A Most Handsome Gentleman

by Suzan Lauder

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Book Club Questions

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Most Handsome Gentleman

  Copyright © 2017 by Suzan Lauder

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any format whatsoever. For information: P.O. Box 34, Oysterville WA 98641

  ISBN: 978-1-68131-020-6

  Front cover design by Janet Taylor from images in public domain

  Back cover photograph © JT Originals

  Back cover 3-D render by Jeff Taylor

  Layout by Ellen Pickels

  Dedication

  To Bubba, the handsomest cat I ever had and all my kitties before and after him,

  and

  Mr. Suze, my handsome man of 32 years.

  A brief note on the spelling and language in A Most Handsome Gentleman:

  To help with the authentic feel of this novel, a genuine effort was made to avoid the use of words developed later than 1811, the year in which A Most Handsome Gentleman takes place. In addition, British English spellings of the time period were chosen because the story takes place in England. Because British English spelling changes took place after the American Revolution (with the Americans keeping the old spellings) some words may look misspelled to American readers (colour, honour), while others may look misspelled to modern British readers (apologize, realize).

  The author’s list of non-Regency, non-British words is in excess of 700 and growing, but the author and editors still may have missed a word or expression or two from later than 1811. Hopefully, readers won’t be distracted out of the Regency moment alongside Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Collins, and friends in A Most Handsome Gentleman!

  Chapter 1

  The carriage jerked into motion while I was not attending, so my head flew back and then forward like a whip. How had we come to leave Netherfield Park without my order? Had Jane given Mr. Hill permission to depart? An agreement to leave would be in contrast to her desire to linger and gape at Mr. Bingley.

  A motion caught the corner of my eye. I turned quickly to her side of the carriage and discovered I was correct. Instead of encountering her calm countenance looking forward, the best I could observe was her ear as Jane’s hand rose to wave. Her neck was craned, and a quick glance behind the carriage confirmed that Mr. Bingley stood waving in the drive alongside Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy was half a head taller than his friend. Jane did not see me roll my eyes when I settled back in my seat.

  The departure was unfortunate for Jane’s romantic inclinations but fortunate for me. After five days at Netherfield Park, spending another day in the presence of those judging Bingley sisters and their compatriot Mr. Darcy would not be beneficial to my equanimity. Without doubt, as soon as I was out of the room, they would spend their time criticising Jane and me. They scarcely held back their comments in my presence!

  “Miss Elizabeth knows no accomplished women.”

  “Miss Elizabeth is not interesting as she only reads and walks. Nothing else amuses her.”

  “Miss Elizabeth does not mind if her friends change their plans on a whim.”

  “Miss Elizabeth’s friends are common and uninteresting.” No. Mr. Darcy said, “Confined and unvarying.”

  Recollection of the mortifying incident made me squeeze my eyes shut while it ran through my brain as if it were a vision. My mother and younger sisters know no bounds when it comes to determining ways to mortify me with their gauche manners. Mr. Darcy’s sketch of my character must be complete. His first impression was that I was not tolerable enough to dance with, and he had little reason to think better of me since the assembly where he had made that comment. My family’s embarrassing display did not support the opposite one whit.

  Even though he does not much care for me, I discovered his expression would change beneath the effects of my irreverent humour and gentle teasing. I pride myself in the smile count, and Mr. Darcy smiled at my comments four times more than at Miss Bingley’s whilst I was at Netherfield. His natural appearance is superior in comparison with most men, but when his lips curve upward at my teases, changes occur on his face to render his features magnificent: his eyes sparkle and dance, crinkling at the corners, and some rather fine dimples appear next to his bow-shaped mouth. I admit to baiting him to near laughter at times. What would his chuckle sound like?

  For a short moment, his opinion of me seemed to have altered for the positive when he indicated his admiration of Miss Bingley’s and my figures, but I must have been mistaken in the immediate assumption. Sharing the remark was far too generous. Miss Bingley’s figure is elegant, and she walks well; thus, she deserves his praise, whereas I have more than one failure of perfect symmetry. However, Mr. Darcy should be careful of paying Miss Bingley too much attention, as any opportunity for her to believe he is one-tenth as partial to her as she is to him will have her ordering wedding clothes. At least she cannot coax his smiles even when they conspire to mock me—improvement of her mind by extensive reading, indeed!

  The carriage was beyond sight of Netherfield, and the views ahead of us were the same as in the rear: undulating hills with hedgerows snaking through them and tufts of tall grass waving gently in the light breeze. The sunshine on the haystacks made a pretty picture. We passed light copses of trees and fields of labourers.

  Jane adjusted herself in the seat next to me. How long had she stared behind us? Since she was no longer preoccupied, I started a conversation.

  “I shall be glad to be home.”

  “Papa will have missed you.”

  “And Mama will have missed you. Our sisters will not have noticed our absence except to pilfer our things without being caught.”

  Jane laughed. Soon enough we passed the busy market village of Meryton and took the bend in the road that led to our home, Longbourn.

  As we entered the hall, Lydia rushed past us in pursuit of Kitty.

  “She used my best ribbon on her horrid old bonnet!” Lydia cried out in explanation.

  A quick glance up the stairs showed Kitty holding one of her bonnets that was decorated with Jane’s new ribbon. It was tied in an elaborate bow before its ends trailed down below Kitty’s bare arms. Although it was mid-morning, Kitty wore one of my evening gowns with an uneven hem; she must have attempted to shorten it herself. Before I could protest, my mother burst into the hall from the west parlour and addressed Jane in an indignant tone.

  “What are you doing home so soon? You were instructed to stay one week complete to secure Mr. Bingley! Now it will be twice as difficult for you to catch him. You will have to wait for balls and teas to see him when you could have seen him every day in his own home. Oh, why did you return so early? You may not catch him now! What do you have to say for yourself? I demand an explanation!” My mother was never one for an economy of words if repetition of her concerns tempted her.

  Jane glanced at me to signal that she would respond. “Do not be concerned, Mama. I am well and could no lo
nger be a burden to Miss Bingley.”

  “You, a burden! You could never be a burden. You are a joy! But, dearest, you still look rather poorly. You really should have stayed to rest and recover. If you remained in Mr. Bingley’s house longer, he would no doubt fall in love with you. How shocking to have travelled in your state! Did not Miss Bingley protest your departure?”

  “A little. We expected to leave yesterday, but she convinced us to wait until this morning.”

  My mother’s face took on a hopeful expression. “On her brother’s behalf, I am sure.”

  Jane turned pink and looked away.

  “You are a good girl, Jane. Miss Bingley sees you as a great friend, and she desires you as part of the family. That is why I contrived for you to stay there.”

  Jane would not commit to the supposition but was gracious in her response. “Indeed, Miss Bingley is a kind host.”

  At that moment, my mother noticed that I stood alongside Jane. “Lizzy, did you behave?”

  “I did, Mama.”

  “I am relieved to hear it, though I am vexed with you for allowing Jane to return to us earlier than I had planned.” She redirected her attention back to Jane. “When did Miss Bingley or Mr. Bingley say they would come to call?”

  “They did not, but I expect they will be at Longbourn to see after Lizzy and me soon enough,” Jane replied.

  My mother’s gaze became soft as she touched Jane’s arm and looked into her eyes. “You are tired. I can see your fatigue. I was correct that you should not be moved for a few days. Such a short trip between Netherfield and Longbourn, yet it has worn you down. This is not good at all.”

  My family was what wore on my beloved sister. All the silence and sense at Netherfield benefited her greatly, but it was broken when we returned to the cacophony that was Longbourn.

  I jumped at the chance to sequester us both within the peaceful confines of our bedchamber. “She should rest. I shall assist her upstairs.”

  On the way, we were treated to the chatter of all three of my sisters as each descended. We had barely enough time to settle our possessions when Aunt Phillips called unexpectedly, and we had no choice but to make an appearance in the parlour even though Mama had just declared Jane too tired. How my aunt heard so soon that Jane and I had returned from Netherfield was no mystery as one of her maids was the niece of the Bingleys’ housekeeper. Aunt Phillips was kind to Jane and ready for any and all gossip concerning the Bingleys, but my mother and sisters soon abandoned that topic.

  Instead, the talk was nothing but officers, officers, officers. Lydia declared herself half in love with Captain Carter, Colonel Forster had gone away for a week and would return with a bride, and some poor fellow was flogged in the colonel’s absence because the major was cruel. Mary tried to redirect the conversation to a religious treatise, but Lydia hastened to Mary’s side and snapped the book shut, giving Mary a start. Lydia did not notice the hot glare she received for her actions as all she cared for was attention.

  Moments later, she and Kitty broke out in another argument over clothes, each claiming items as theirs that belonged to Jane or me. My mother and Aunt Phillips disregarded them and discussed the exorbitant price of new muslins at the drapers yet questioned how young ladies could catch worthy husbands in a gown from goods less dear. I was half listening as I attended to my work, but Lydia distracted me from my occupation.

  “Are you not excited about the ball, Lizzy?”

  The ball? Oh, yes. The ball Mr. Bingley agreed to host in response to Lydia’s forward and embarrassing demands. He did not seem to mind though. Mr. Bingley is as sociable as Lydia. “Yes, I anticipate the evening with pleasure.”

  “I shall dance with all the officers, and Kitty will be so jealous!”

  Kitty protested. “I shall not!”

  Lydia named the officers who preferred her, and they resumed their quarrelling.

  Mama attempted her method of smoothing things over. “Oh! Your noise is wearing on my poor nerves. How can I bear it? I demand that you stop this foolish bickering at once. There are plenty of officers for everyone.”

  My family. Were Jane and I as obsessed with men when we were Kitty and Lydia’s ages? No officers were stationed near Longbourn when either one of us was fifteen, but we did spend a prodigious amount of time one summer trailing behind Mrs. Long’s nephew. Her youthful guest then seemed a great deal more handsome than any fellow in Meryton, but I have seen finer examples of men since. Mr. Darcy is exceptional in that regard, but I cannot admire him and would never be silly over him like my sisters are for Mr. Denny or Captain Carter.

  Later, before retiring, Jane and I chatted as we brushed out each other’s hair, a nightly ritual since we were young girls. I tried to coax Jane into speaking of her feelings for Mr. Bingley, but she gazed off in the distance and fidgeted with her fingers before she changed the subject. It is just as well. Talk of Mr. Bingley would lead to a discussion of his family and friend, and Jane would be sympathetic to them rather than truthful about their ill manners and airs.

  I missed the dawn the next morning. I am not one to sleep late, but the return to my own bed put me into such a deep slumber, I did not wake at first light as was my wont.

  The downy mattress at Netherfield had been so soft, and I sank so deeply into it, that I had become trapped once I became settled within the coverlet. That made me anxious and interfered with my rest. Even so, I had maintained the habits of home whilst there and risen early each day. Once dressed, I would pin my hair into a simple knot and take a walk before breakfast. Miss Bingley would be shocked to know I could tighten my own stays and style my own hair. Her preference would be to spend hours under the hand of a personal maid, but mine was to use the time in activity. Mr. Darcy was the only person besides me who rose before the others, and during my early morning walks in the park, I would see him riding.

  This particular morning, it was so late that I descended to the breakfast room without my usual walk. The noise indicated my sisters were already assembled there. I took my place, and my father, though laconic in his expression of pleasure, was especially glad to see Jane and me. Officers dominated the conversation once again until my father interrupted to speak of a letter he had received several weeks back. My mother and sisters proclaimed their suspicions as to the identity of the writer, which were all wrong. He was a relation we had never met: a clergyman and the heir to Longbourn called Mr. Collins.

  My mother grimaced. “I am not easily pleased by the news.” She spoke of how it irked her that Longbourn was entailed to this cousin because she and my father were unable to produce a son, accenting her complaint by sharp movements with spoonfuls of eggs, putting too much on her plate. Her concerns of immediate eviction from Longbourn if Mr. Bennet died were of no surprise to any in the neighbourhood. She had protested the eventuality for many years now, certainly since Kitty’s birth and maybe even before. It has always been part of my memories.

  “Do not be concerned. Papa is in good health.” Jane has such patience.

  But my mother’s spirits brightened when my father brought up a part of the letter. “Listen, Lizzy. Said cousin implied his intention to choose one of your fair sisters, or even you, as a wife.” He read the letter aloud.

  I was not so certain this was good news. The letter’s writer displayed a decided lack of good sense, and who would want to marry a man who lacked sense? “He must be an oddity. I cannot make him out. There is something very pompous in his style. And what can he mean by apologizing for being next in the entail? We cannot suppose he would help it if he could. Can he be a sensible man, sir?”

  “No, my dear, I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his letter that promises well. I am impatient to see him.”

  “In point of composition,” said Mary, “his letter does not
seem defective. The idea of the olive branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I think it is well expressed.”

  Perhaps I should be disappointed in my father’s dilatory reception to the communication as he had taken a fortnight to respond. But my true disappointment was to not have heard of this letter until now. I would have enjoyed picking apart the odd, self-important statements with my father in good humour. It was another reason to rue the length of time I was forced to remain at Netherfield Park, enduring its residents—other than Mr. Bingley of course.

  No other situation had the power to set Longbourn into a frenzy more than anticipation of a visitor. My mother enjoys society more than most, and nothing puts her further into a sense of ennui than a lack of callers. Her remedy for this situation is a series of calls in the area around Longbourn to gossip with her friends. She loves to chatter, and what better way to enjoy conversation than speculation on the foibles of one’s neighbours? That must be the common thread between her and my father: he enjoys making sport of others’ defects, and she is not hesitant to return home with news to inspire his witty observations.

  Since he had been generous in providing her with a topic to spread to the far corners of Hertfordshire, my mother itched to reveal the anticipated visit to my Aunt Phillips, who fortuitously called again later that morning. The two discussed my mother’s concerns about this Mr. Collins and what she could recall from his letter. “If he chooses one of my girls, it would make amends for claiming an entail he does not deserve.”

  “He could do no better. And to think, dear sister, one of your own precious daughters would follow you as mistress of Longbourn.” My aunt knew precisely what Mama wanted to hear.

  “Nothing would please me more, and Mr. Bennet could go to his deathbed content that a true Bennet heir—the son of one of our girls—would eventually care for our home.”

  My mother became so worked up with anticipation that she developed a headache and, once my aunt departed, retired to her chamber. In her stead, Jane made the necessary preparations for Mr. Collins’s accommodations in Longbourn’s guest chamber, and my mother’s instructions for an impressive welcome dinner were communicated to the servants. She nearly decided upon two full courses!