Foiled Elopement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  “Look, Papa.” Elizabeth passed him the paper, folded over to display an article. “Look what the Americans have done now.”

  The rest of the meal passed in an amicable discussion of world events. The three of them were not equally aligned, but all seemed to enjoy a rigorous discussion and be capable of having one while keeping clear heads. They were forced to break off when the majority of the others, minus Mr. Hurst, arrived to dine. Mr. Hurst, Mr. Bennet was led to understand, preferred to sleep late most mornings.

  Not long after, Mr. Darcy stood. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Bennet, are you available now for our meeting?”

  “I am,” he said, agreeing with Mr. Darcy’s silent retreat. The arrival of the womenfolk, at the instigation of Miss Bingley, had turned to how their afternoon should be spent. As Mr. Bennet was sure his opinion was neither sought nor valued, he saw no reason to remain.

  Pleasantries were exchanged, with Mr. Darcy turning to Elizabeth last. “I shall see you at eleven in my office.” He accompanied this with a smile.

  The walk to Mr. Darcy’s office emphasized Elizabeth’s point about the considerable size of Pemberley. Mr. Bennet was duly impressed not to pass a single room or corridor not in perfect repair and well appointed. Such a holding and accompanying estates much put considerable pressure on a gentleman. He should find himself further impressed that Mr. Darcy’s honor had bade him wed Elizabeth without any expectation she would add to his wealth, but didn’t. Mr. Bennet was fairly sure his new son hadn’t had a real choice in the matter. Darcy was besotted with Elizabeth, which should aid Mr. Bennet’s negotiations.

  In the end, no negotiating was required. The settlement Mr. Darcy had in mind for Elizabeth was generous indeed. On top of that, he was arranging for a pension for Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth’s sisters, should Mr. Bennet die before his wife and leave any daughters unmarried. All in all, Mr. Bennet was a bit startled by Mr. Darcy’s generosity. He was, however, finally fully satisfied that his daughter was married to a wealthy, generous man.

  “Will that all be satisfactory?” Mr. Darcy concluded.

  “Only a fool would find it otherwise,” Mr. Bennet said. “You are being far more than generous. I can’t help but assume you care for my daughter.”

  Mr. Darcy had his eyes on the papers before him, from which he’d been reading notes he must have penned at some point since returning to Pemberley. He glanced up, then set to neatening them, placing them alongside another stack of pages. “She did a very noble thing for my sister. Is still doing a noble thing. What I propose hardly thanks her enough.”

  “Is thanking her your intention? You should know that Elizabeth will be grateful, but not see this as thanks. She considers accepting payment for a good deed intolerable.”

  Something that might be a smile ticked at the corner of Mr. Darcy’s mouth. “Yes. She already acquainted me with that belief. I attempted to give her an allowance of a hundred pounds a year to thank her so she would feel less pressured to marry me. She threw the letter to my man of affairs in the fire.”

  “Then we’ll keep your thankfulness between us and just tell her that she is receiving what is appropriate for her position as your wife,” Mr. Bennet said. He leaned forward in the thickly upholstered armchair he occupied. “Now, if you don’t mind me asking, I seem to recall there was mention of a library?”

  “There was. I believe you will find it adequate to your needs.”

  “I expect to.”

  Mr. Darcy walked him to the library himself, which amused Mr. Bennet. Darcy certainly liked to show off his home, of which he was justifiably proud. Noting how his new son watched him as they entered, though, Mr. Bennet realized it was something more. Here was a man who, for perhaps some time, hadn’t had anyone to share the things he loved most with. Certainly, it was obvious in the way Mr. Darcy suffered Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst so he might have Mr. Bingley’s and Mr. Hurst’s company that he had few close friends. Nether gentleman struck Mr. Bennet as much of a reader.

  The library at Pemberley was a two-story room, simply yet elegantly adorned. A shallow balcony encircled the upper floor, permitting the selection of volumes without impeding the openness of the space. Both above and below, ladders with wheels rested on rails to permit access to higher shelves and a spiral staircase connected the two levels.

  Placed in careful groups around the room were comfortable looking armchairs and sofas, several tables and desks. Candelabras and candlesticks abounded and huge windows took up the only non-shelf filled wall space on two sides of the room. One long side of the room faced south, sunlight streaming in. The scant dust moats floating in it spoke of how well cared for the space was. Before departing, Mr. Darcy explained the logic of where the books were shelved.

  Mr. Bennet soon lost himself in the room. At first, he didn’t settle on anything to read, simply moving from section to section to survey the Darcy collection. He’d expected to be impressed. He was not disappointed.

  After an hour in the room, Mr. Bennet settled into one of the armchairs with a smile. It was as comfortable as anticipated. The small table on one side was perfect for stacking books, while the one on the other had a not-yet-required candelabra. Smiling in contentment, Mr. Bennet set to reading. He only stopped for a brief time near midday, to request writing materials. It occurred to him he and Jane might remain in Pemberley for some while. They would require more of their clothes.

  Chapter Fifteen – Resolve Tested

  As Darcy neared his office, he was surprised to see the door stood open. He frowned, sure he hadn’t left it that way. He hadn’t paid much heed to the mantel clock in the library, more interested in observing Mr. Bennet’s reaction to his collection, but he didn’t think it was later than ten. He’d deliberately given himself time to catch up on some of his more urgent tasks. Not that he minded. His work could wait until after he spent time with Elizabeth.

  Entering, he was surprised to find Miss Bingley waiting for him. He stopped, deliberately staying just inside the doorway. It wouldn’t do to be found closeted with her. “Miss Bingley.”

  “Mr. Darcy. I wish to speak with you on something of a delicate nature. Do you think we might close the door?”

  “No, I do not. However, you may join me in full view of the hall, so you can see for yourself that no one is listening.

  She pressed her lips into a thin line, but nodded. Moving away from his desk, she came to stand with him in the doorway. Too late, Darcy realized that wasn’t optimal either, as it put her much too close. The way she looked at him combined with the false sense of intimacy her nearness suggested made his skin crawl.

  “What is this delicate topic you wish to speak on, Miss Bingley?” he said, keeping his tone cool.

  “Mr. Darcy, your honest, honorable nature is to your credit,” Miss Bingley said. “We all respect you for it. Nay, love you for it.”

  He eyed her stonily.

  “You know nothing of this Miss Elizabeth or her family,” Miss Bingley continued after a pause. Her eyes darted toward his desk. “Given the circumstances of your meeting, and of your wedding, no one could blame you for casting her back where you found her. We want you to know that. No one will judge you.”

  Darcy followed her gaze. Too late, he realized he’d left his copies of Mr. Matthew’s records of how Georgiana had been saved and the duel he’d fought, unpacked that morning, on his desk. He had no doubt she’d read them while waiting for him. Anything else aside, the pages were no longer perfectly aligned with the edge of his desk, as he’d left them.

  “I’m afraid you’re under several misconceptions, Miss Bingley,” he said, not hiding his displeasure. “One is that you seem to think there is a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, when my wife is Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy.”

  Her face twisted with scorn. “The wedding took place in Scotland, without her father’s knowledge or consent. No family was there to witness the event. It’s as if it didn’t happen.”

  “There was a priest, and over thirty witnesses, includ
ing several of my people, if Scotts aren’t witness enough for you. If you care to see just how many people participated in our union, I have a list of them.”

  “But that’s perfect,” she exclaimed, looking pleased. “If you have a list, you know who to, ah, encourage to forget they ever saw the union take place. Thirty people is a considerable number, and they’ll have told others, but you’re a very wealthy man, Mr. Darcy. You can afford to make this go away, both with the Scotts and the Bennet family. They look as if any paltry sum would be a fortune to them.” She leaned closer, her expression turning coy. “I promise you, no one will think badly of you. We won’t spread any word of this among the ton. Especially if a certain union we all long for takes place to shore up the rumor.”

  Did she imagine she was being appealing? A sharp featured, even sharper tonged, grasping creature like her, instead of his Elizabeth? “Another of your misconceptions appears to be that I would wish to end my union with Mrs. Darcy.”

  She blinked, straightening. “But of course you do. She’s no one, with nothing. Why, her father and sister walked in here nearly threadbare. Miss Bennet didn’t even have a dinner dress. She had to wear some castoff of Georgiana’s. What will people think of you taking on a woman and relations like that? Much worse than if you rid yourself of her now and put the whole incident behind you.”

  “And yet another way in which you error is to believe I care what anyone thinks of me, least of all the ton.” He leaned closer now, but not in an amorous way. “I chose to marry Elizabeth for reasons of my own. They will not be shaken by you, the ton, or King George himself. If you make any move to defame her, or treat her in any way I deem disrespectful, you will no longer be welcome here. It will be up to Bingley and the Hursts if they wish to share your exile, but I will make it clear to them they don’t need to.”

  She stared at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging open slightly.

  “Is that clear, Miss Bingley?”

  Closing her mouth, she nodded.

  “And was that all?”

  Another nod. He stepped back into his office. Shooting him a look that verged on tears, she all but ran away.

  Darcy pushed a hand through his hair, letting out an explosive breath. The nerve of the woman, suggesting he cast Elizabeth off. Even if he didn’t already respect and care for her too much for that, Elizabeth’s life would be ruined. If Miss Bingley had read the pages on his desk, she must know how much Elizabeth had helped Georgiana. Did she really think Darcy would show his gratitude through betrayal?

  Footsteps sounded in the hall. Darcy tensed before realizing they were solid, booted steps, not soft scurrying slippers. He looked down the hall to find Richard approaching, carrying several envelopes but looking back over his shoulder. He turned to Darcy, his expression confused.

  “Did Miss Bingley come by here?” Richard asked as he drew near. “She just charged past me, weeping.”

  “I often have that effect on unmarried women.” Darcy’s tone was flat.

  Richard raised his eyebrows. “I see. Come to give her desired union with you one final chance?”

  Darcy swallowed a harsh rejoinder, realizing the truth in Richard’s question. He was suddenly struck by Miss Bingley’s point of view. Though he’d never been more than correct with her, he’d known of her aspirations. He’d always considered himself polite, but the truly kind thing would have been to set politeness aside and put an end to her dreams years ago.

  Richard was studying him. “I have the mail, and I came for a word, but it can wait if you aren’t--”

  “No, come in. I want you to know what transpired.”

  “And I have something important to tell you.” Richard looked grim.

  This time, Darcy did close the door, moving to the back of the room to seat himself behind his desk. Richard took the seat opposite, so recently vacated by Mr. Bennet and his likely more amiable conversation. Richard tossed the pile of envelopes on his desk.

  Darcy frowned, reaching out, the handwriting on one catching his eye. He tore it open, finding only a few hastily scrawled lines.

  I hear congratulations are in order, but marriage to you won’t protect the meddling chit. You know I’m capable of implacable resentment. I will have my revenge.

  There was no signature. Darcy hadn’t received a written correspondence from George Wickham in years, but there was no doubting who’d penned the letter.

  “You look as if someone shot your favorite horse. What does it say?” Richard asked.

  Darcy pushed the letter across the desk, his mind rereading the words as Richard read. What did Wickham mean, have his revenge? He’d already struck Elizabeth. What further lengths would he go to?

  Richard let out a low whistle. “Wickham?” he asked.

  Darcy nodded, knowing any words would come out a growl. He unclenched his hands from the arms of his chair, unsure when he’d locked them in a grip as tight as the one he’d like to have around Wickham’s throat.

  “This changes my suggestion,” Richard murmured. He frowned down at the page.

  “Suggestion?”

  Richard grimaced. “You aren’t going to like this, Darcy, and there’s no easy way to say it.” He drew in a breath and let it out. “After you left, Georgiana confessed something to me.” He met Darcy’s eyes. “It went farther than we first thought. There is the possibility she’s with child.”

  Darcy nodded, relieved it wasn’t anything more. “Yes. Elizabeth informed me of that. It’s one of the reasons we wed.”

  “One of?” Richard made the words into a question.

  Darcy glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past ten. “I’ll start from the beginning,” he said, proceeding to tell Richard everything he knew of what had befallen Georgiana, the duel, and why he and Elizabeth had wed. As Richard knew much, it didn’t take as long as Darcy had feared. In conclusion, he pushed Mr. Matthew’s reports across the desk. “These are the official versions, which you can read at your leisure. They’re along the lines of what Elizabeth said in the foyer yesterday.”

  Understanding dawned in Richard’s eyes. “I wondered at her impromptu speech.”

  “Hopefully no one else did. I believe she wished to acquaint Georgiana with the story as quickly as possible. She can’t know how unlikely it is for my sister to speak with the Bingleys or Hursts.”

  Richard nodded. He remained silent for a long moment, thoughtful. “You could have waited, you know. After Georgiana told me, I formed two plans for her possible contingency.”

  “Which were?”

  “If she turned out to be pregnant, I was going to encourage her to consider if she does love Wickham. She has known him for many years, and she did seem sad over what happened.”

  Darcy gave his cousin a flat look. “Obviously, that’s impossible. The man is intolerable.”

  “Yes, from what I learned yesterday and today, I now see that.” Richard shrugged. “The other option I came up with was that I would marry her. The baby would be early, but they often are.”

  “It was my failure that got Georgiana into this situation. It was my place to rectify it,” Darcy said stiffly. Was Richard, too, going to urge him to cast Elizabeth aside?

  “Darcy, we both vetted Mrs. Younge. We are joint guardians, neither one of us subservient. It was my responsibility as much as yours.”

  “She is my sister,” he said, aggravated.

  “She is my cousin. More importantly, she is my ward,” Richard said, exasperation clear in his tone. “I accepted responsibility for her.”

  “You could raise Wickham’s child? Wickham’s son?” Darcy demanded.

  “Can you?” Richard shot back. “Darcy, I have no estate to leave. My brother has more than satisfied carrying on the Fitzwilliam name.”

  “You don’t want to marry her and she doesn’t want to marry you,” Darcy said, nearing anger. Couldn’t Richard see that marrying Elizabeth was a necessity?

  “True.” Richard offered a shrug, some of the tension leaving him. “Thir
ty thousand pounds wouldn’t even mitigate it. If I planned to marry one of my cousins for money, it would be Anne. Speaking of which, do you want to write to Aunt Catherine or shall I?”

  Darcy grimaced, his anger instantly replaced with dread. “I will. I did this. I’ll write her.”

  Richard nodded. He leaned forward, tapping the unsigned letter resting on the desk. “What about this?”

  Darcy shook his head. “I will have to keep her near. No forays, no unescorted walks. She won’t be allowed out of my sight unless I know where she’s going and who with. She will be followed by two footmen at all times. What else can I do?”

  “I’ll ask about. Knowing Wickham, he’s bound to have done something for which we can have him arrested and transported. Once I find out what it is and ensure there’s enough evidence, we’ll go looking for him. Will you warn her?”

  Darcy looked down at the letter. Wickham was usually more talk than action. He had struck her, true, but he’d done it to a specific end. Would he dare so more? Hadn’t Elizabeth been through enough in recent weeks without the threat of Wickham hanging over her head? The thought of him harming her in any way, even by impinging on her happiness with his threats, sent rage coursing through Darcy.

  “I’m not certain we can keep her safe even here,” he finally said. “Although Wickham would be recognized, he could come at night. He would know how to sneak onto the grounds of Pemberley better than anyone.” Darcy and Wickham had roamed over every inch of Pemberley’s grounds as children. “I’ll have to make sure she’s escorted whenever she leaves the house.”

  Richard nodded. He studied Darcy for a long moment. “You care for her. That’s the real reason you married her.”

  Darcy went still, surprised. Did he? Yes, of course he cared for her. He’d been intrigued as soon as he learned about her selfless deed, beguiled from the moment he saw Georgiana’s portrait of Elizabeth at the pianoforte. Seeing her play the previous evening had reminded him of that abstract beauty. “I find her appealing, certainly.”