Elizabeth Bennet's Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary

by Regina Jeffers

  Darcy could hear the house stir to life, but he kept his eyes closed to the world. Only behind the façade of sleep could he woo and win Elizabeth Bennet’s affections. Only then did he speak words of love, rather than censure. Only then did Elizabeth look upon him with favor.

  * * *

  Elizabeth again found her way to the window seat. It was a beautiful night, a starry night with a gentle breeze, but it brought her no comfort. After the confrontation with Mr. Darcy, the gentleman returned to his quarters. From what she overheard, Mr. Darcy sought his bed and had yet to rise from their encounter. To Elizabeth’s relief, Mrs. Reynolds disclosed Mr. Darcy did not succumb to his illness again. She did not think she could bear to be responsible for Mr. Darcy knowing greater suffering.

  “Master William simply requires his rest,” the housekeeper shared while the woman and Elizabeth changed out the linens upon the servants’ sick beds. Other than the two latest patients, the others progressed nicely. Despite Elizabeth’s resolve to leave Mr. Darcy behind, she could not but be sorry to leave him.

  Reluctantly, Elizabeth climbed upon her bed. She required sleep for the colonel announced that he meant to depart for London after the morrow’s breakfast.

  “Finally,” Elizabeth spoke softly to the shadows as she drew the linens over her head. “I shall be rid of this madness and of Mr. Darcy.”

  * * *

  “Darcy?” His cousin’s voice came close to Darcy’s ear.

  “What is amiss, Fitzwilliam?” Darcy kept his eyes closed, praying his cousin would leave him so Darcy might grieve for his loss.

  “I mean to depart for London today. You and Georgiana will be well soon, and General Leigh-Hunt expects me to join him for supper on Friday.”

  Although Darcy thought he knew the answer, he asked, “What day is this?”

  “Wednesday.”

  Darcy rolled to his back.

  “Have a safe journey, and keep me informed of Leigh-Hunt’s wishes.”

  Darcy knew the general often called upon Fitzwilliam for his most pressing assignments, a fact of which Darcy disapproved.

  The colonel waited for him to say more, but Darcy refused to ask of Elizabeth.

  “Should I inquire after Wickham when I return to London?”

  “Not on my account,” Darcy said in bitterness. “I could do nothing even if the scoundrel reneges upon his promise. I am not well enough to execute another search, and the Bennets would not welcome more interference upon my part. Mr. Gardiner will deal well with Mr. Wickham.”

  “As you wish,” the colonel said with a lift of his eyebrow, indicating his concern. “And what of Miss Elizabeth?”

  Darcy closed his eyes to ward off the inevitable rush of regret.

  “Miss Elizabeth means to walk away from Pemberley and me. When she departs with you today, our connection ends.”

  * * *

  In spite of his spoken resolve to permit Elizabeth to leave without another confrontation, after the colonel departed to call upon Georgiana, Darcy donned a favorite banyan over his wrinkled shirt and breeches and slowly made his way to Elizabeth’s door. Bracing his weight against the frame, he knocked lightly and waited for her appearance.

  When the door swung wide, his heart stuttered to a halt. A silky wrapper covered her night rail. Her toes peeked from under the hem, and her hair–those glorious unstyled locks, which he viewed only once on the day Elizabeth walked from Longbourn to Netherfield to tend her ill sister–hung about her shoulders, draping to her waist. Auburn curls caressed her cheeks. Darcy wished to claim fistfuls of the fire-touched strains.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she hissed. “Why are you here? And at this hour?” She pulled the wrapper close about her. “Do you mean to ruin me?”

  “I would never,” Darcy said in defense. As he made his way to Elizabeth’s quarters, Darcy rehearsed his apology, but her reaction to his appearance had him swallowing the words he meant to say. “I thought we held unfinished business.” It was all Darcy could do not to reach for her. He thought if he could only hold Elizabeth in his arms all would be well.

  “We do not!” Elizabeth reached for the door to close it.

  Darcy leaned heavily against the framing.

  “Wait! Please wait,” he whispered.

  “Why?” Elizabeth spoke with cool indifference. “So you may humiliate me further? I understand: You spoke the words Society expects from a gentleman, but I am not one of those seeking a husband on the Marriage Mart. All I ever required in any gentleman was honesty.”

  “Yes. I am well aware of your brand of honesty, Miss Elizabeth. You prefer scoundrels such as Mr. Wickham to a man who offers you respectability,” Darcy snapped.

  Her chin notched higher.

  “Leave me, Mr. Darcy. Claim your victory. I dared to rebuke a man of your consequence, and you successfully repaid my prideful act. You proved yourself superior to Mr. Wickham and to my family.”

  “Do I hear you correctly? It is your belief that I enticed you to follow me to Pemberley specifically so I might reject you as you rejected me in Kent. Explain to me, Miss Elizabeth, how I planned to contract measles so you would feel empathy for me. I have known convoluted thinking previously, but never to this extent,” he charged.

  They were nearly nose-to-nose, so close, Darcy considered kissing Elizabeth senseless.

  “I never thought you ‘enticed’ me to Pemberley, but…”

  “But what?” Darcy pressed. “I spoke promises that you denied possible, yet for which you secretly hoped.” She flinched when Darcy traced a line across her cheek with a single fingertip. “Is that the way of it, Elizabeth?”

  “No!” Her denial lacked conviction as Elizabeth’s eyes drifted close: A familiar longing crossed her expression. They stood as such for several elongated seconds as their breaths came faster. Fascinated by the feel of her skin beneath his finger, Darcy hesitated in kissing her. Unfortunately, the pause rekindled Elizabeth’s ire.

  “Unhand me!” Elizabeth accused.

  Irritated by Elizabeth’s continued stubbornness, Darcy held up the finger with which he stroked her cheek.

  “Unhand you?” His eyebrow rose in challenge.

  Sarcasm laced Elizabeth’s words.

  “You win again, Mr. Darcy.”

  “There is no winner unless we are together,” Darcy insisted. “Can you not see every move I make is meant to protect you? Even when I thought you knew Mr. Wickham…” The image of Wickham touching Elizabeth always tore of Darcy’s soul, and Darcy searched for the right words to express his affections.

  “You mean when Mr. Bingley demanded you act with honor?” Fury sparked in Elizabeth’s eyes. “Do not speak to me of your devotion.”

  Unable to resist the urge to lash out, Darcy responded with his own unkind accusation.

  “Did you know of Miss Lydia’s elopement when you and the Gardiners came to Pemberley? When you walked along the riverbank, did you know regret not to discover me at home? Were your ‘innocent’ remarks to Bingley of Miss Bennet’s pining for his homecoming a means to prove my early estimations in error? I know Mrs. Reynolds informed you of my expected return to the manor with the Bingleys in company. Did you wait for the coaches to pass through Lambton in hopes of drawing Bingley’s attentions?”

  “You knew I visited Pemberley; yet, you made no attempt to renew our acquaintance? What does your inaction say of your regard, Mr. Darcy? Were you at home when my family toured the estate? Did you spy upon me? Did you count the number of times I returned to your portrait in the gallery and recognize my susceptibility? Is that when you hatched the plan to humiliate me?” Elizabeth reached for the door again. “Perhaps you should know, Mr. Darcy, that when I tended Mr. Wickham at Gracechurch Street, that gentleman welcomed my presence in his quarters.” With her pronouncement, the door closed in Darcy’s face, and his heart plummeted into more despair.

  * * *

  Darcy watched from the gallery as Mrs. Reynolds and a weakened Mr. Nathan bid Elizabeth and the colonel
farewell. It was pure torture to observe the kindness with which Elizabeth treated his servants and to know no such tidings were meant for him. Mrs. Reynolds’ expression spoke of his housekeeper’s approval of Elizabeth Bennet. His servant presented Elizabeth with what appeared to be a strip of crocheted lace. Elizabeth blushed from the notice and quickly added it to the pages of the book she carried before placing her arms about Mrs. Reynolds in a lingering embrace. With a glance about the foyer, she accepted the colonel’s proffered arm. And then she was gone. Elizabeth walked from Darcy’s life once again.

  “How could what began with such promise end in misery?” Darcy whispered.

  With nothing to which to look forward, he turned his dejected steps toward his quarters.

  * * *

  Although Elizabeth attempted to speak in all politeness to Colonel Fitzwilliam, it was all she could do not to deliver a waspish denouncement of the colonel’s abominable cousin. Elizabeth wished to question Fitzwilliam upon what he knew of Mr. Darcy’s insinuations, but she did not. At length, they parted, and Elizabeth knew instant regret at not having the opportunity to claim the colonel as family.

  “You have returned!” Lydia called from where she sat beside Mr. Wickham upon a settle in Aunt Gardiner’s favorite drawing room.

  “Yes, I have.” Elizabeth curtsied to Mr. Wickham, who rose upon her entrance. “I am pleased to observe a bit of health has returned to your person, Sir.”

  “I am not yet prepared to attempt a country dance, but I can claim a steadier stance.”

  Elizabeth gestured his return to his seat while she perched upon the edge of a nearby chair.

  “Lydia and I could not help but notice that Colonel Fitzwilliam set you down from one of Darcy’s coaches. I thought Mr. Gardiner said you tended his business associate.” A lift of his eyebrow said Wickham was more than curious.

  “I did. Mr. Hacker resides near All Hallows Church, and as Uncle Gardiner’s coachman assumed the care of his children when we welcomed your illness to uncle’s household, I sent word to Colonel Fitzwilliam at Darcy House. Mr. Darcy offered his cousin’s escort if I required anything in his absence. The colonel delivered me to Hacker’s door and retrieved me today. I am most grateful for his kindness, especially as he holds duties with General Leigh-Hunt later today.”

  Elizabeth smiled at Mr. Wickham before asking Lydia of the wedding. Oblivious to the contest, which just passed between Elizabeth and Mr. Wickham, Lydia perked up immediately.

  “I wish it could be grander, but Aunt Gardiner says I ‘cannot flaunt my fortune’ before others. To which I said, ‘Why marry if not for the notice of others?’”

  Elizabeth heard the hint of frustration in Lydia’s tone, and so she swallowed her “Why indeed?” response. Instead, she offered her sister an enticing alternative.

  “Yet, even without a larger ceremony, you should rejoice for you shall be the first among your sisters to marry.” Elizabeth knew Lydia well enough to know her youngest sister would enjoy the distinction among the Bennet daughters.

  Lydia’s countenance brightened.

  “And perhaps my dearest Wickham will be permitted to wear his Regimentals.”

  “We may only hope,” Elizabeth said with pleasure.

  Lydia suddenly sat straighter. She worried her bottom lip, which told Elizabeth her sister had a confession of sorts to divulge.

  “I pray you shall not be angry with me. I did not know when you might return, and certainly did not wish Aunt Gardiner to be my attendant. I would prefer Kitty, but Papa refused Kitty’s coming to London.” Lydia paused before saying, “I asked Mary to serve as one of our witnesses.”

  “I could not be more delighted,” Elizabeth said with all honesty. “It was kind of you to involve our sister. Mary is quite special in her own way.” Elizabeth held no desire to observe her youngest sister marry Mr. Wickham. She would say a prayer of thanksgiving not to be a part of the actual ceremony. When she stood, Elizabeth motioned Mr. Wickham to remain seated. “Now, if you will pardon me, I should find Uncle and inform him of my time with the Hacker household.”

  As Elizabeth climbed the stairs to her quarters, her mind drifted again to the look of devastation upon Mr. Darcy’s countenance when she spoke of spending time in Mr. Wickham’s quarters. Elizabeth meant to damage his pride, but she did not think the gentleman would know such pain. Witnessing it, she wished to reach out to him–to comfort him.

  “Foolish chit,” she murmured in self-chastisement. “It is all part of the act. The man cares nothing for you.”

  * * *

  Ten days passed since Elizabeth departed with the colonel. Darcy returned to his duties, but without much enthusiasm. He sent Mr. Gardiner a note stating his and Georgiana’s health required Darcy’s remaining at Pemberley rather than returning to London to witness the wedding. Knowing Elizabeth would likely remain in Town for Miss Lydia’s nuptials, Darcy absented himself from the ceremony.

  “Odd that I would prefer to encounter Mr. Wickham more than the woman I love.”

  He ran his fingers distractedly through his hair while making a poor attempt in updating his ledgers. None of the symptoms of the illness remained, other than the occasional queasiness in his stomach, which Darcy suspected had more to do with the pangs of unrequited love than the measles.

  “A letter, Sir.” Mr. Nathan carried in the post upon a silver salver before exiting.

  Darcy caught up the thick letter and turned it over to read the direction. He recognized the script, and his heart fluttered in his chest: It was from Elizabeth’s uncle.

  “The deed is done; Miss Lydia has a husband,” Darcy whispered as he broke the seal and opened the folded over pages.

  Within, Mr. Gardiner elaborated upon the unrepentant attitude of the “happy couple,” but the gentleman assured Darcy all the terms they negotiated with and upon Mr. Wickham’s behalf were executed as promised.

  Even though they have but a few days to spare, Mrs. Wickham insisted upon her and the newly minted officer calling upon her family before parting for the North. Mrs. Bennet was most anxious to greet her daughter’s new husband, and so my brother Bennet sent his carriage for the couple. Naturally, Elizabeth and Mary returned to Longbourn also. Mrs. G and I will miss their sweet ways with the children.

  “So she returns to the bosom of her family,” Darcy murmured. “I pray Miss Elizabeth finds happiness.”

  The next part of the letter praised Darcy’s intervention in the Bennet family’s trials and held a promised devotion to Darcy’s self. Although Darcy thought that he did not deserve Gardiner’s kindness, he expected such sentiments from Elizabeth’s uncle, who was quite a remarkable gentleman. Yet, it was the last paragraph, which had Darcy’s heartbeat hitching upward.

  Our Lizzy has not been her customary vivacious self since her return from Derbyshire. Mrs. G. believes our niece concerned for your full recovery, and neither of us think it would be inappropriate if you wrote to Lizzy at Longbourn to assure E of your continued health. We would never have permitted E to travel to Derbyshire if Lizzy did not insist that you renewed your proposal and that, as a couple, you simply awaited the Wickhams’ joining before you made the announcement public. As you are betrothed, an exchange of letters would be acceptable. There is no need to worry each other because of the necessary distance of the moment.

  E. Gardiner

  “Betrothed?” Darcy did not know whether to be angry at Elizabeth’s conniving or to celebrate her creativity. “Needless to say, Mr. Gardiner suspects something of Miss Elizabeth’s perfidy.” Darcy shook his head in amused disbelief. “Even if I wrote to Elizabeth, she would burn the letter without reading it. No,” he said as he placed Gardiner’s letter to the side to return to his ledgers. “I will not provide Miss Elizabeth the pleasure of rejecting me yet again.”

  Darcy dipped his pen in the ink and began to add the transactions regarding Mr. Wickham’s marriage to his books, but the recording had him thinking of the manner in which Elizabeth’s breath caught
in her throat when Darcy edged her into his arms.

  “Elizabeth is not immune to me.”

  Distracted, Darcy returned the pen to the well. He leaned into the leather of his favorite chair while he examined the possibility.

  “If I simply show up on Elizabeth’s doorstep, the lady will call off the false betrothal without considering a lifetime together. Her pride would never permit Elizabeth to admit her error,” Darcy reasoned. “Yet, Elizabeth risked everything to know more of my health. I cannot permit her to claim ruin simply because we argued over something insignificant.”

  Darcy allowed the idea to take root.

  “I do express myself better in writing,” he mused. “Perhaps I could woo Elizabeth without her knowing my purpose.”

  Darcy began to construct plans on how best to proceed.

  “My initial letter should say nothing of my hopes of a reconciliation. I should simply state the obvious: The lady’s family is under the assumption we are engaged, and before Elizabeth ends our acquaintance it would be best if we continued the farce for a time because too many people know of her coming to Pemberley under the guise of being my betrothed.” Darcy liked that idea. “No manipulations. Simple logic. The honesty Miss Elizabeth claims she desires in a man. Elizabeth will respond with an agreement to continue the sham for a bit longer or demand my withdrawal.” Darcy chuckled. “The ball returns to your court, Elizabeth Bennet. Shall you continue to play the game or forfeit?”

  Chapter Twelve

  “You sent for me, Papa?”

  Elizabeth found her father buried behind a stack of books. Since Mrs. Bennet’s returned to her duties at Longbourn, Mr. Bennet retreated further into his isolation.