Foiled Elopement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  It didn’t take long for Mr. Buchanan to reappear with a dram of scotch and several sheets of paper. “Complements of the house,” he said, setting the scotch on the table. “This first is the tale of how Miss Elizabeth ended up remaining here. The second concerns Mr. Darcy’s arrival and the, uh, duel. It’s not for me to say if the two are related,” he added with a meaningful look that rather suggested they were.

  “Thank you.”

  Scotch in hand and Jane reading over his shoulder, Mr. Bennet read first the account of Elizabeth giving up her place in the Muirs’ carriage for a Miss G. who was in danger of being forced to elope with a Mr. Wickham. From what Mr. Bennet could tell, based on what was said and what was easily inferred, Miss G. was very young, afraid, wealthy and alone.

  “Yes,” Jane murmured. “Papa, you can see why Lizzy had to help her. She couldn’t let that poor girl be carted off by Mr. Wickham. It’s obvious he was after her dowry and not a pleasant individual at all.”

  Mr. Bennet nodded. It did, indeed, seem the sort of thing Elizabeth would be compelled to put right. He set the account aside, took a sip of scotch and began the second.

  He nearly spat his scotch across the page when he read that Mr. Wickham had struck Elizabeth. Jane let out a startled squeak, indicating she’d reached the same information. Mr. Bennet quickly read on.

  When he was through, he pushed the pages away, waving Mr. Buchanan over. “Thank you for giving me some insight into what’s taken place.”

  “Of course, Mr. Bennet.” The innkeeper glanced at the two gentlemen. “You may keep those if you like. We have other copies.”

  “Is this Mr. Wickham still about?” Mr. Bennet didn’t consider himself an aggressive man, or as having much of a temper, but he should like to give Mr. Wickham a sound tongue lashing. He could appreciate why Mr. Darcy had felt compelled to duel.

  “No.” Mr. Buchanan shook his head. “No one would put him up, feed him or gamble with him after what he did. He left town as soon as he was finished writing.”

  “What about what he was made to write out?” Mr. Bennet asked, tapping the pages which described the event and the punishment meted out.

  “I can get you one of those, certainly. We’re dispersing them through the countryside and would be happy if you would take one with you.”

  “Thank you. I think we should also like a meal. It seems we’ll be waiting for some time.”

  The food at the Sleeping Cat was better than the typical inn fare. Mr. Bennet tried to put aside his worry for Elizabeth and enjoy the fact that he and Jane were someplace new, doing something rather more interesting than he really cared to do. As they were finishing their meal, the two respectable looking gentlemen came over and asked to join them. They turned out to be Mr. Matthews, the local magistrate, and Mr. Gregory, the local rector. Both were highly complementary of Elizabeth, and of Mr. Darcy, though they admitted to not knowing him well. When pressed, they wouldn’t confirm Mr. Bennet’s suspicion that Miss G. was related to Mr. Darcy, but they didn’t deny it either.

  While various patrons came and went, it wasn’t until late afternoon that Elizabeth and a tall gentleman of perhaps twenty-seven or eight years entered the common room. Jane leapt to her feet, her face wreathed in joy. Mr. Bennet stood more slowly. Mr. Matthews and Mr. Gregory excused themselves.

  “Lizzy,” Jane called, rushing to her sister.

  Mr. Bennet watched his daughters embrace then turned to size up the man at Elizabeth’s side. His demeanor was a touch reserved, his carriage upright. If his tailoring was any indication, he was quite wealthy. On top of that, though Mr. Bennet knew he wasn’t the best judge, the man was rather well put together.

  Mr. Bennet came to stand beside Jane. “Mr. Darcy, I presume?”

  “I am,” he said with a nod, even those two words cultured. “Mr. Bennet?”

  Mr. Bennet nodded back, vaguely amused to present a demeanor as stiff as Mr. Darcy’s. The man obviously took himself rather seriously. “Mr. Darcy, I believe you owe me an explanation.”

  Another grave nod. Mr. Bennet wondered how Elizabeth would get on with such a formal gentleman. “I agree, but I would prefer to give it in private.” He turned toward the bar. “Mr. Buchanan, is your private parlor free?”

  The innkeeper hurried over. “It is, Mr. Darcy. Would you care to use it?”

  “We would. May we also have refreshments? We’ve eaten little today.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Mr. Bennet, is there anything you would care for?” Mr. Darcy asked.

  “Tea would be fine, Mr. Buchanan.”

  “And wine,” Jane said.

  Mr. Bennet looked at her in surprise.

  “We should toast Lizzy’s marriage.” Jane’s tone was firm.

  “Yes, we should,” Mr. Darcy said. “Elizabeth deserves her wedding to be celebrated. I am pleased she has family here to do so.”

  Mr. Bennet turned back to Mr. Darcy, surprised. He was looking down at Elizabeth, who was smiling at Jane, seeming completely oblivious to the love-struck expression on her new husband’s face. Mr. Bennet looked away, hiding a smile. He wouldn’t have thought it possible for anyone to fall in love so quickly, but Elizabeth was a unique young woman. Suddenly, Mr. Bennet felt considerably better about the entire situation.

  “Right,” Mr. Buchanan said. “Tea, wine and supper for the newlyweds. I believe you know the way to the parlor?”

  “We do, and thank you, Mr. Buchanan,” Elizabeth said.

  She led the way to the parlor, which was spacious and comfortable. The windows were open, allowing for fresh air, and one of the seating areas was far enough removed from them that Mr. Bennet didn’t think anyone could listen in, were they so inclined. The fireplace was banked, and unlit candles abounded. All in all, as with other parts of the inn he’d seen, it was a pleasant room.

  They were seated and Elizabeth introduced Jane to Mr. Darcy, who was cordial. Mr. Bennet watched carefully, but didn’t see the usual look overtake Mr. Darcy’s features, the adoring one that most young men got when speaking to Jane. They then proceeded to talk of nothing significant until their food, tea and wine were brought. The servants closed the door behind them when they left.

  “Now,” Mr. Bennet said, making no move to eat or drink. “How is it I’ve arrived here to find my daughter married? To simplify things, you should know Jane and I have read both the account of how Elizabeth came to remain here and of the duel and what led up to it.”

  Jane reached across the table to squeeze Elizabeth’s hand, her look one of sympathy.

  Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “I believe you said your father and elder sister are two of the four people who can be trusted with the truth?”

  Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows. He wondered if the other two were Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, or Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Phillips. Surely Elizabeth hadn’t included her mother or any of her other sisters in her list of most trustworthy individuals.

  “That is correct.” Elizabeth offered Mr. Bennet a reassuring smile.

  “I believe the description of how Elizabeth helped Miss G. avoid Mr. Wickham is entirely accurate,” Mr. Darcy said. “However, some of the claims therein are not, and some information was deliberately left out.”

  Mr. Bennet nodded, having suspected as much. “You are her brother. Miss G. is Miss Darcy.”

  Mr. Darcy nodded. “Yes. Furthermore, as I do not wish to begin my relationship with my father-in-law in lies, I believe you should know that Georgiana willingly eloped with Mr. Wickham. She did not realize, at the time, that he was not in love with her, but with her dowry. He made the mistake of telling her, once he felt she had no recourse, that he was wedding her for money and to spite me.”

  “Which was why she was so miserable, Papa,” Elizabeth said, her demeanor earnest. “She’s only fifteen and a very young fifteen at that. Her governess permitted herself to be bribed into giving Mr. Wickham access to Miss Darcy. Though what you know of him doesn’t suggest it, I believe he could be quit
e charming if so inclined.”

  “Poor girl,” Jane said, always ready to take the side of the wronged.

  “Fifteen is old enough to know better and a more suitable governess should have been hired,” Mr. Bennet said. “She traded her mistake for your reputation, Elizabeth. I can’t immediately forgive that.”

  Mr. Darcy stiffened, frowning.

  “I can, Papa, and my reputation was perfectly salvageable until the duel.”

  “Yes, the duel,” Mr. Bennet repeated, turning a hard look on Mr. Darcy.

  Mr. Darcy launched into a lengthy explanation, delving back into his and Mr. Wickham’s childhood and touching on many slights, not the least of which was a disagreement over a promised living. Mr. Bennet made no comment until the end of Darcy’s recital, except to glance occasionally at Elizabeth with slightly raised eyebrows, which caused her to nod in agreement. Finally, Mr. Darcy fell silent, looking a bit spent.

  Mr. Bennet contemplated his new son. “You’ve had years to settle your differences with Mr. Wickham. Why did you permit him to finally draw you into a fight? You’ve done Elizabeth’s reputation great harm.”

  “I lost my temper,” Darcy admitted. His eyes flicked toward Elizabeth. “When he struck your daughter . . .” He shook his head. “I finally lost my temper. He went too far.”

  “Not far enough for you to kill him,” Mr. Bennet said. He supposed that was fortunate, because killing Mr. Wickham might very well have ended up with Elizabeth’s reputation ruined and no Mr. Darcy available to marry her. Murder was a hanging offense.

  “No, not enough to kill him,” Mr. Darcy’s words were clipped, stiff. “I apologize, Mr. Bennet. I should have insisted on proper protocol.”

  “From what you’ve said, Mr. Wickham is not a gentleman,” Mr. Bennet said. “You had no need to even consider dueling him.”

  Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth again. “As I said, I was not thinking with perfect clarity. I wanted only to punish him for what he’d done.”

  “I believe Mr. Wickham struck me with the intention of provoking Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, wincing as if in recalled pain. “He knows Mr. Darcy well. I’m sure he knew seeing a woman struck would drive him momentarily beyond reason. Once Mr. Darcy agreed, he couldn’t back out.” She offered her husband a smile.

  Mr. Bennet suppressed a sigh. Young people and their ideals. “One lapse in temper caused Mr. Darcy to ruin you, shortly after one lapse in judgement brought Miss Darcy to the point of requiring your assistance. You can see, Lizzy, why I am not pleased with the Darcys at this juncture.”

  To his surprise, Elizabeth lifted her chin, a familiar stubborn look molding her features. “I am a Darcy now, Papa.”

  “I realize that, Elizabeth.”

  Beside him, Jane made a sound that was oddly like a stifled giggle.

  Mr. Bennet maintained his stern façade. “I can see, Mr. Darcy, why you offered to marry Elizabeth. That was nobly done of you, sir, and I thank you for it. I concede that it was likely the only way to salvage her good name.” He turned to Elizabeth, frowning. “Forgive me for asking this, Lizzy, but why were you willing to marry Mr. Darcy? You must have known I would rescue you and will always look after you.”

  “I was concerned my ruined reputation would make it harder for my sisters to marry,” she said, looking down at her hands. “Also, Mr. Darcy promised he will give mother an annuity if you predecease her.”

  Mr. Bennet narrowed his eyes. Was Elizabeth implying he hadn’t set aside enough to care for his wife and daughters? The accusation stung all the more for being true. He was unwilling to fight his wife over spending except to the point of not going into debt.

  “Five hundred pounds a year,” Mr. Darcy confirmed. “I also promised her I would cover your travel expenses.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” Mr. Bennet said, truly offended for the first time.

  “It is if I’m to start out my marriage by keeping a promise I made my wife.”

  Mr. Bennet held up a hand. He could see a lengthy discussion ahead, for he wouldn’t be a charitable endeavor for Elizabeth’s new husband, or permit Mr. Darcy to salve his guilt by paying off his new bride’s father. Mr. Bennet had a final question to ask first, though. He could sense a hole in their logic, and Elizabeth wasn’t given to faulty logic. As she didn’t wear a besotted look, there must be more to the story. “Before we discuss financial matters, I have one further question.” He adopted a stern expression. “Why did the marriage need to take place so hastily?”

  Elizabeth looked to her husband, eyes questioning. Mr. Bennet felt a pang of sorrow. Already, she had secrets with Mr. Darcy. Already, she was no longer his Lizzy, one of the few bright points in his life, but this man’s bride. He suppressed a sigh. As Jane had stated, it was bound to happen eventually. Mr. Darcy gave a slight nod.

  Elizabeth turned back to them. “There is one complication we haven’t told you, because it must remain the strictest of secrets.”

  She grimaced, as if reluctant to voice the words. Mr. Bennet had the sudden fear his daughter really had compromised herself. Why, he would duel Mr. Darcy if that turned out to be the case, age and reason be damned.

  “Miss Darcy may be with child,” Elizabeth said in a low voice. “If that is the case, we plan to raise the child as ours to protect her.”

  Jane gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Better she should cover her ears, Mr. Bennet thought. He raised his eyebrows. “I see. No need to say more, then, on that. We shall never speak of it again, shall we Jane?”

  Jane shook her head vehemently.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said. “Now, as for the expenses of your journey.”

  A lengthy argument ensued in which Mr. Bennet cheerfully, though not obviously so, tested his new son’s honesty and wit. He found both reassuringly strong. In the end, he did concede, though with a show of disgruntlement. Perhaps it wasn’t only the young who valued their perceived honor.

  Mr. Darcy then offered to accommodate him and Jane at his home in Derbyshire, an offer Mr. Bennet readily accepted. As he now knew his daughter’s union was not wholly official, having taken place in Scotland, without his consent, and being unconsummated, he would cheerfully inspect this Mr. Darcy’s life for flaws before consigning Elizabeth to him forever.

  Lastly, it was agreed that, after spending a brief time with her husband for the sake of appearance, Elizabeth would share a room with Jane, a plan they would follow for the entire journey to Derbyshire. That would ensure the marriage appeared official and save Mr. Bennet the additional expense of hiring one of the inn’s maids for the task of chaperoning Jane. Not that it mattered. It seemed Mr. Darcy would be settling the bill.

  Chapter Thirteen – Pemberley Reached

  Darcy had never imagined it would be so awkward to stand alone with his wife in an inn room. Elizabeth was looking at the floor, her color heightened by a slight blush. Darcy sought about for some topic but, never the most eloquent, he could think of nothing. All he could do was look at her, in her slender perfection, and think of the things people thought they were doing, but which they could not do.

  She peered up at him through dark lashes. “How long, do you think?” she whispered. “That is, I don’t have any notion how long we should remain here for people to think . . .” She trailed off, her blush deepening.

  If Darcy had his way, all night. Since he did not, he could at least salvage his male pride. “I should think the better part of an hour, at least.”

  She looked up, eyes wide. “We’re going to stand here, hardly able to whisper for fear people will realize we aren’t . . . That is, we must stand here like this for an hour?”

  Darcy couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “I would prefer it,” he said softly.

  She threw up her hands. “This is absurd. Come, let’s move to the far corner where we can converse without being overheard. I will not simply stand here for an hour. We may as well have discourse.”

  She led the way
to the other side of the large bed. Darcy did his utmost not to look at it. They crowded into the far corner, beside a cracked and ancient looking painting of fruit. Firelight from both candles and the hearth illuminated Elizabeth’s delicate features, flickering across them.

  “What did you wish to discuss?” he asked, leaning nearer than was strictly necessary. His eyes traced the long, slender curve of her neck.

  “Anything, I suppose,” she said. Did he imagine the breathless quality to her voice? “Something to pass the time.”

  Darcy could think of one way to pass the time. He lowered his lips to hers.

  They didn’t end up spending an entire hour in his room. It took much less time than that for him to realize he needed to rid himself of the temptation of her. He liked to think he sent her away longing to remain, and with a newfound inclination to be pleased with their marriage. He knew he sent her away well-mussed, but as he watched her reach the safety of the room she would share with her sister, no one entered the hall to appreciate their subterfuge. After exchanging a last look with Elizabeth, Darcy closed his door and looked about his empty room. It was going to be a long journey to Pemberley.

  Long, but not unenjoyable. Aside from his nightly moments alone with Elizabeth, something almost more akin to torment than pleasure, Darcy found the trip pleasant. Mr. Bennet was educated and well-informed. Elizabeth and her sister behaved with perfect propriety. Darcy couldn’t even object to the sleeping arrangements, knowing the temptation of having Elizabeth in his bed would be too much to resist.

  Elizabeth proved just as witty and well-read as he’d hoped, with a mischievous streak that added a vivacity he hadn’t before realized his life was lacking. He recalled her claim he would prefer Miss Bennet, but couldn’t imagine doing so. While Miss Bennet was a great beauty, she was soft spoken and meek to the point of being invisible when Elizabeth was near. Elizabeth would not consent to have her opinions go unheard, which wasn’t an imposition as they were well thought out but not so fixed that she would not change them, if confronted with conflicting facts or better arguments. They spent the better part of a morning arguing over who was the protagonist in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Elizabeth claimed it wasn’t Brutus or Caesar, or any single person, but rather, the conspiracy. Miss Bennet had read the play, but ventured an opinion only once.