Elizabeth Bennet's Deception: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary

by Regina Jeffers

  “Yes.” He pointed to a letter resting upon a stack of books. “You have an admirer.”

  With as much calmness as she could muster, Elizabeth crossed the room to snatch up the post.

  “From Charlotte or Aunt Gardiner?”

  Yet, before her father could respond, the familiar script set Elizabeth’s hands trembling.

  “From your reaction, I assume you know the sender, and you will not attempt to convince me the letter came from a female. A gentleman’s script lacks the delicate touch of Mrs. Collins or your aunt.” Her father did not chastise, but dissatisfaction laced his tone.

  “It is from Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said obediently.

  “And the gentleman believes it acceptable to correspond with my unmarried daughter because…”

  “I did not ask him to write to me,” Elizabeth protested. “In fact, when we parted last, we spoke most ill to each other.”

  “And where did this ill parting take place?”

  Her father did not move a muscle or raise his voice, which set Elizabeth’s nerves off kilter. She knew immediately that in her rush to deny knowledge of Mr. Darcy’s correspondence she admitted her latest deception.

  “Pemberley.”

  “Pemberley? I see. And this parting occurred recently?”

  “A fortnight before Mary and I returned to Longbourn.”

  A long silence had Elizabeth shifting her weight self-consciously.

  “I suspect your being at Pemberley had something to do with the illness, which followed Mr. Darcy to Pemberley.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Her father shook his head in disbelief.

  “I am confused, Elizabeth, in regards to your relationship with Mr. Darcy. For many months while the gentleman resided with Mr. Bingley at Netherfield, you decried Mr. Darcy’s worth as a man, but after your journey to Kent, your disdain softened. Most recently you admitted Mr. Darcy proved to you the depth of Mr. Wickham’s wayward tendencies long before this situation with Lydia occurred. Your Uncle Gardiner says Mr. Darcy proposed to you twice.” Elizabeth’s shoulders sank further with each of her father’s assertions. “You permitted the man to think you carried Wickham’s child in order to provoke Mr. Darcy into assisting us in locating Wickham. According to your uncle, you told the Gardiners, you accepted Mr. Darcy’s most recent proposal so you might race off to tend to his health.” With a sigh of resignation, her father added, “I always thought you the most intelligent of my children. Now, I discover you are more of the nature of Kitty and Lydia.”

  Disappointing her father brought Elizabeth as much pain as losing Mr. Darcy.

  “Guilty as charged,” she whispered.

  Her father stood and crossed from behind his desk to catch Elizabeth up in his embrace.

  “Tell me, Lizzy, if you care for this man. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man, but this would be nothing if you really liked him.”

  The tears Elizabeth withheld from the time she walked away from Pemberley came pouring out.

  “It would not matter,” she admitted on a hiccup of sobs, “if I wished the acquaintance. A man once shunned…will not…seriously claim…a woman whose connections to Mr. Wickham would bring her shame.”

  “Even so, the man played with your affections.” The hardness lacing her father’s tone was not often heard at Longbourn.

  “We argued.” Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief her father provided without her asking. “I appeared upon Mr. Darcy’s doorstep, but the gentleman ordered me removed. Mr. Darcy wished nothing to do with me.”

  Her father set her at arm’s length from him.

  “Did you leave when Mr. Darcy sent you away?”

  “No. Colonel Fitzwilliam pointed out I could not take a public coach for we all knew the sick room for several days. We were not ill, but who is to say if my presence on the public coach would not spread the disease?”

  “How long did you reside under Mr. Darcy’s roof?”

  Elizabeth did not understand her father’s questions.

  “Some four days.”

  “I see.” Her father returned to his desk. “What will you do with Mr. Darcy’s letter? Will you read it?”

  “If you prefer I return it unopened, I shall do so. Or I could burn it,” Elizabeth offered.

  Her father’s features appeared grave.

  “I know you, Lizzy. You wish to learn of Mr. Darcy’s reason for writing to you.”

  A red flush crept up her neck.

  “I do.”

  Mr. Bennet sucked in a quick breath.

  “I will tolerate the correspondence for the time being, but we must keep your relationship to Mr. Darcy secret. If Mrs. Bennet learns of it, there will be no peace at Longbourn until I demand a duel to protect your honor.”

  Silence rose between them.

  “I shall not disappoint you again, Papa,” Elizabeth whispered into the quiet.

  “Ask Mr. Darcy in the future to address his posts to ‘Mr. T J P Bennet.’ Few know my full Christian name. I will know it is he and present the letter to you. Continue the correspondence or end it. The decision is yours, Lizzy, but know, either way, you remain my dearest child.”

  * * *

  After assisting Mrs. Hill to tie and hang the herbs from the garden, Elizabeth made her way to the privacy of her chambers. She knew Mr. Bingley escorted Jane upon a ride in the gentleman’s new gig, and she would be alone. Climbing upon her bed, Elizabeth placed the letter before her to examine the flow of Mr. Darcy’s script. The gentleman wrote the way he lived: with confidence and pride. At length, she broke the wax seal to find two pages.

  11 September 1812

  Miss Elizabeth,

  Although I am certain this is not a letter you welcome, I thought it prudent we have further conversation. From both Colonel F and your uncle, I learned you broke with propriety to come to my aid. For this kindness I am forever grateful. Even before the death of my parents, it was I who provided the care to those I most affect. I am unaccustomed to others seeing to my welfare.

  “Apologize,” Elizabeth pleaded. “Explain what went awry if you are grateful for my attentions.” Yet, the frustrating man did not speak more on her intrusion into his quarters.

  For many months, I hoped to host you under my roof–to show you Pemberley’s grounds–to entertain you in its music room and to share Pemberley’s many vistas. Yet, the circumstances robbed us of those memories, leaving behind the taste of bitterness.

  “I did not come to Derbyshire to enjoy its splendor,” Elizabeth whispered to her broken heart. “I came because I could do nothing less–because you were there and ill.” She dashed away a single tear upon her cheek.

  Recently you charged me with the duty of speaking honestly, and so I will. Although our relationship is often provoking, it also knew moments of tenderness and understanding. I believe the latter is grounds for a connection.

  In truth, the pretext you practiced to oversee my care is well known at Pemberley and in the Gardiner household. As such, many believe us betrothed. We might ignore those rumors if you did not travel with the colonel to Derbyshire and did not stay at inns often used by the Fitzwilliam and Darcy families–if my staff did not know of your previous visits to Pemberley–if you did not demand access to my quarters from my housekeeper–if I did not order Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Sheffield to remove you from my sick room–if we did not argue before two maids and a footman–if you did not insist before others that you would never return to the private quarters–if I did not stubbornly refuse to see you upon your journey to London–if you did not deny a visit with Miss Darcy–if you did not swear to my offer of marriage before you set out for Derbyshire–and if I did not neglect to announce our engagement.

  Even though you likely hold no desire to place your life under my protection, there are issues present, which demand our attention. Whether either of us cares to admit it or not, your reputation could be as tattered as Mrs. Wickham’s if we do not act. Mr. Bingley is a devoted suit
or to Miss Bennet, but Bingley still desires an entrance into Society. If Miss Bennet possessed two sisters who knew ruination, it would make it more difficult for my friend to act upon his desire. And what of your younger sisters? What future would they claim if another scandal plagues your family? More importantly, what would your ruination say to Society of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet? How will others judge your parents?

  Therefore, I propose we continue the farce, at least for the time being. We will exchange letters regularly, an act only the betrothed are permitted. In doing so, we have the time to learn more of each of other. Perhaps at the end, we will discover we do not suit. Yet, there is also the possibility we may choose to join for life. I await your response.

  FD

  Elizabeth expected many circumstances, but not the one presented in Mr. Darcy’s letter. There was no passion. No words of love or censure. Only one line where he spoke of the least bit of affection.

  “Mr. Darcy proposes a marriage of convenience! What more did you expect after performing in such a gormless fashion? You squelched any affection the gentleman once held for you! Well, I shall not do it!” Elizabeth refolded the letter and stuffed it in a drawer so no one else might read it. She did not permit herself to recognize that if she truly meant to deny Mr. Darcy her response, she would burn the dratted letter. In truth, Elizabeth could no more part with this second letter than she could the first one.

  Aloud, she protested the gentleman’s injustice.

  “I cannot spend a lifetime at Mr. Darcy’s side and pretend my heart not engaged!” Elizabeth lay back upon the bed to close her eyes. “I would rather remain a social outcast than to know less than love.”

  * * *

  Despite reading Mr. Darcy’s letter more often than she would admit, Elizabeth did not respond. Like his previous letter, she was in a fair way of knowing this second one by heart. She studied every sentence, and her feelings toward its writer were at times widely different. When Elizabeth recalled their encounters at Pemberley, indignation claimed her; yet, his dedication to discovering Mr. Wickham and Lydia remained exemplary. Often Elizabeth’s anger turned against herself for permitting her heart to lead her head–for destroying what once held great promise, and Elizabeth felt no inclination to see Mr. Darcy again.

  “How could I face him? It is best if we hold no connections, and marriage is the deepest of connections,” Elizabeth cautioned, but then as was her nature, she turned her thoughts to sarcasm. “Of course, a marriage of convenience would be the easiest means to avoid a disagreeable husband.”

  The thought had but taken root when Elizabeth turned a corner of the house to discover her mother bent forward at the waist and sobbing.

  “Mama!” she rushed forward to place her arm about her mother’s shoulder. “What is amiss? Are you ill? Is it your nerves?”

  A flush of embarrassment claimed Mrs. Bennet’s cheeks.

  “I did not mean to frighten you, Lizzy,” she said in apology. “It is just your mother being her customary insensible self.” Her mother stood straighter, but Elizabeth noted the self-chastisement remained.

  “Come sit with me in the arbor,” Elizabeth encouraged. “We shall be insensible together. I sincerely miss the games you once invented to entertain us girls.” She tugged upon her mother’s hand.

  Mrs. Bennet paused but a brief moment before following.

  “I should return to the manor. There is much to be done,” her mother protested.

  “Nothing that cannot wait a few minutes. We so rarely have moments to reminisce,” Elizabeth insisted. “Look! There are patches of clover.” She did not know what she meant to convey with pointless chatter, but Elizabeth knew something of import bothered her mother. “Do you recall how you made endless chains of flowers for Jane’s and Mary’s and my hair?”

  Her mother stared off as if seeing the scene playing before her eyes.

  “Jane adored them as if they were tiaras, but Mary found nothing whimsical in them.”

  “And what of me?” Elizabeth asked.

  Mrs. Bennet patted the back of Elizabeth’s hand.

  “You preferred for me to form the flowers into chainmail. You were always the adventurer–the one who chose her own way. You reminded me of that particular fact most recently when you refused Mr. Collins.” Her mother sighed heavily. “I should not have insisted upon your acceptance of Mr. Collins’s hand. I knew you would not suit.”

  “Yet, the alliance would secure our futures,” Elizabeth reasoned. “I acted with selfishness.”

  “I considered the matter much while I was abed with my nerves. Instead of you, I should have directed Mr. Collins toward Mary. Your sister would be a better match for Mr. Collins, and Longbourn would know a Bennet in its future.” Elizabeth would not wish Mr. Collins on any of her sisters, but she would agree that Mary’s nature was similar to Charlotte Collins’s in many ways. Her mother added softly, “I failed to secure the estate by delivering an heir for Mr. Bennet.”

  “Oh, Mama.” Elizabeth slipped her arms about her mother’s shoulders. “You did not fail Papa or the estate. With no male heir, you have done the next best thing: Placing your efforts to securing your daughters’ futures.”

  “At least, Mr. Bingley returned to Jane’s side. If Jane can bring Bingley up to snuff this time, a flicker of hope exists that we shall not be destitute after Mr. Bennet passes, and the Collinses claim Longbourn.” A small smile tugged at her mother’s lips. “Although Mr. Wickham did not act honorably toward Lydia, they are settled in the North. I never worried for Lydia finding a husband for she is quite pretty and very inviting.”

  Elizabeth thought, Too inviting, but she said nothing.

  “And I hinted to my Sister Phillips that perhaps Mr. Phillip’s new apprentice, Mr. Robert Grange, might find a sensible wife in Mary.”

  “Perhaps soon,” Elizabeth teased, “you will only need to contend with Kitty and me.”

  “What else may a mother do? It is her lot in life to put forward her daughters as good mistresses of an eligible gentleman’s household. Naturally, I would wish you and Kitty as well placed as Jane. It would be a great imposition if only Mr. Bingley were to support us. I do not expect the Wickhams in a position to contribute to our comfort.”

  Elizabeth privately agreed for the couple was not built to know economy.

  “Mr. Grange,” her mother continued, “will be some time as an apprentice before he can claim a wife and home. All we can do is hope Mr. Bennet delays his passing until all our daughters are settled.”

  “Is there an urgency?” Elizabeth knew her father not always the most robust of men, but she held no news of possible complaints regarding his health.

  Her mother shook off Elizabeth’s worry.

  “Nothing immediate,” her mother assured. “But a man can be thrown by his horse or choke upon a bite of lamb stew or fall upon the stairs. Fate is not always kind.”

  Mr. Bennet said something similar in regards to Lydia’s folly.

  “I promise Kitty and I will plan our appearances in society with more care,” Elizabeth said good-naturedly. “If we are successful, only you and Papa will remain at Longbourn. What shall you do then?” she teased.

  As if the idea was not one Mrs. Bennet would welcome, her mother frowned.

  “What we do now: Avoid each other. Any tenderness Mr. Bennet once felt for me no longer exists.”

  * * *

  Elizabeth spent an hour in the orchard before coming to her decision. What if Mr. Bennet passed this day? Where would they go? How would her mother and sisters survive? If their father passed, Jane could not marry Mr. Bingley for a year because of the required mourning period? Who would take them in? Uncle Gardiner could not stand the extra expense after all he did for Lydia, and Uncle Phillips could not support two households on his income.

  “But if I chose an alliance with Mr. Darcy, all would be well,” Elizabeth reasoned. “I could tolerate the correspondence between us long enough to see Jane settled with Mr. Bingley, and then I
could end it if we cannot come to some understanding.”

  With resolve, she marched into her father’s study.

  “Papa, I decided to correspond with Mr. Darcy. I pray you shall permit this aberration from propriety.”

  “I see,” Mr. Bennet said, but her father did not appear surprised by Elizabeth’s declaration. He leaned into his chair and studied Elizabeth’s features. “What brought on this change of mind? Only two days prior you swore you wished nothing to do with the man.”

  “I considered what you said and what Mr. Darcy freely states in his letter: My impetuous spirit led many to believe I claim an engagement with Mr. Darcy. Heaven knows this family cannot bear more shame. Mr. Darcy proposes a betrothal for appearance sake, and if we choose to remain together, the gentleman will honor the engagement.” Elizabeth added quickly. “What I share will sound of a bit of lunacy: Despite our multiple disagreements, Mr. Darcy remains my most devoted friend, and such is more than many may claim in a relationship.”

  “Yes,” her father said sagely. “A marriage based on friendship is preferable to one based upon passion.”

  * * *

  It took a week for her response to arrive, but Darcy’s instincts proved correct: Elizabeth agreed to accept the “fake” engagement he suggested. Finally, Darcy’s breathing eased.

  “I simply must employ the words, which will bring the lady into my embrace forever.”

  Darcy reread Elizabeth’s response. It was even more carefully worded than his initial letter. He smiled when he imagined her scratching out words and rewriting passages to eliminate any display of affection.

  “Nice volley,” Darcy mused aloud. “The game continues.”

  He picked up his pen to write:

  My dearest Elizabeth,

  Chapter Thirteen

  My dearest Elizabeth,

  Elizabeth rushed to her quarters to read Mr. Darcy’s response. She spent hours purging any sign of the affection she felt for the man in her letter to him, but she prayed for a glimmer of such in the gentleman’s response.