The Maiden’s Stratagem
A Pride and Prejudice Variation
By Margaret Gale
Copyright © 2019 by Margaret Gale
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either borrowed from the great Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, or the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, businesses, organisations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights Reserved under the Copyright Act 1968 (Commonwealth of Australia) and International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be used or reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, translated, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means whether electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, etc., now known or hereinafter invented, without the written permission from the author and copyright owner except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Contents
A Terrible Prospect
A Sorrowful Sister
A Visit to Netherfield
Mixed Emotions
Caroline’s Comeuppance
Elizabeth’s Stratagem
The Lengths Young Ladies Will Go To
Home Again
Caroline’s Stratagem
An Unexpected Announcement
Confession
Another Proposition Altogether
A Father’s Heart
A Disappointed Suitor
Better Late Than Never
An Honourable Offer
A Season of Courtship
A Terrible Prospect
No. No! NO! Elizabeth fled from the house to escape her mother’s shrill demands that she come back and accept her cousin’s proposal. She could not do it. She would not do it. A life tied to Mr Collins was unthinkable.
The man was a repellent fool: physically nauseating, intellectually risible, morally bereft, and totally free of any self-regulating diffidence. Marriage to such a man would be purgatory: she could not imagine anything worse than being subject to his control, forced to endure his sycophantic pandering to the tyrannical Lady Catherine and pretending respect for his puerile sermons, let alone being required to submit to his physical advances.
She would run mad in a fortnight.
She had not known him a day before she felt he was the last man in the world who she could ever be prevailed upon to marry.
Elizabeth Bennet was no fool. She knew she had poor prospects. Her dowry was negligible. Her father was a gentleman, but an insignificant one. His estate brought in only enough to keep his family in a modest style, and was entailed on his death to that very Mr Collins who had offered her his hand. Collins had warned her that her prospects of ever receiving another offer were small, and much as she might wish otherwise, on that point he was correct. If she did not accept him, she might well never marry. Surely that was a better fate than marriage to her cousin, but it was not a prospect that filled her with joy.
Elizabeth and her older sister Jane had often talked of marriage. It was the only respectable ambition for a woman of their class, but they were determined to marry only for love. Without true affection and respect for their husbands, and from them, they felt the risk of putting their lives into the hands of another was too great. Elizabeth knew she would have Jane’s support for her refusal of William Collins’ proposal, even though it meant the heir to the Bennet family estate might not marry a Bennet at all.
Her mother was another matter. Mrs Bennet would do everything possible to have her daughters safely married, and her focus for the past month had been evenly divided between encouraging a match between Jane and their new neighbour, Mr Bingley, and securing her husband’s heir for one of her other daughters. While she knew Elizabeth to be the least suited to such a match, since she was Mr Collins’ choice Mrs Bennet would not stand in his way. Indeed, she would insist that the ungrateful girl accept his hand before he changed his mind and went away without marrying any of her daughters.
Mr Bennet was harder to predict. He was fondest of Elizabeth amongst all his daughters. He would be sorry to see her tied to such a man. But Collins was his heir, and the thought that he would be entrusting the future of his family estate to the smartest of his daughters might sway him in favour of the match. Elizabeth could not be secure in her expectation of his support.
Her younger sisters would be indifferent. Mary clearly had more tolerance for their buffoon of a cousin than the rest, but even she had tired of his endless praise of his patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Kitty and Lydia only noticed him as an object of fun, giggling behind their hands and rolling their eyes in response to his pontifications on the proper conduct befitting young ladies. They were far more interested in finding potential beaux among the officers of the militia regiment recently billeted in Meryton.
Elizabeth walked the woods and fields surrounding Longbourn for near an hour before she felt composed enough to face her parents and plead her case. She returned to the house through the kitchen, to avoid encountering her cousin, and made her way directly to her father’s study.
Mr Bennet was, it seemed, awaiting her. He had received the petitions of both his wife and Mr Collins that he should direct his wayward daughter to accept the proposal of such an eligible gentleman. He had promised them nothing more than that he would think on the matter. He did not need to see Elizabeth standing before his desk, slightly dishevelled from her walk and clearly anxious, to understand that she would not be happy with the match. The man was beneath her in every way except his expectations as the future master of Longbourn. Marriage to him would be abhorrent to Elizabeth. He was reluctant to compel her, even though he understood, and to some extent shared, the very practical motives that led his wife to promote the match.
“Well, Lizzy, it seems Mr Collins has come to the point at last. What say you to his offer?”
“I cannot marry him, Papa. Please do not make me. I would be utterly miserable.”
“He is not a sensible man, but you would be able to guide him, and perhaps to help him become less silly over time,” he offered.
“Oh Papa, if it were only that he is stupid, I might be able to reconcile myself to marrying him out of duty. But it is more than that. He bows in all matters to the edicts of his patroness – from all reports a termagant of the first order – never has a thought of his own, unless it is a very tedious one, and would demand I model my life on the copious advice of the Reverend Fordyce. You know I could not do it. How could I respect such a man? How could I tolerate his advances? How could I …” she broke off in tears, and sank into a chair. “Do not ask me to do this, Papa.”
“I confess I did not expect you to welcome his offer, Lizzy. But have you thought what it might mean for your mother and your sisters if you refuse him? I will not live forever, and one day he will be in a position to throw you all out of house and home. As his wife, you could influence him to show kindness to your family.”
Elizabeth huffed. She had heard this argument already from her mother, and saw the selfishness of it. It disappointed her that her father would attempt to blackmail her into taking sole responsibility for the support of her family in the case of his demise. What of his own obligation to plan for such an eventuality? What of her mother’s obligation to make economies in the household budget to put aside a nest egg for a time of need? What of the chance that any or all of her sisters might marry well and be able to offer refuge to their family if Collins should throw them out?
“Father,” she said (and he did not fail to notice the formal address instead of her usual “Papa”), “would
you condemn me to a lifetime of misery simply to insure against a chance that may never happen? You may outlive my mother. My sisters and I may be long gone from home before Mr Collins ever takes possession. Mr Collins may predecease you. Our uncles could provide shelter to any of us still living at Longbourn when Collins becomes its master. Marrying me to Mr Collins is not the only solution, and it is too high a price to ask of me. My life would end and be replaced with merely existing – trying to endure – for the rest of my days. You cannot ask it of me.”
Mr Bennet sighed. He knew Elizabeth was right, but did not want to weather the storm that would be his wife’s reaction to him siding with his daughter. There was sense in Mrs Bennet’s position, even if she could not express it well, and while Elizabeth could argue her case impressively, there might be little option for her in the end. He gazed sorrowfully at his favourite daughter, and she could see that he would not protect her from the looming calamity.
With desperation, Elizabeth bartered for time. “Do not decide today. Give me a week to consider his offer. If I can reconcile myself to the marriage within that time, I will do so. If I cannot, then you may decide my fate, as is your right as my father. But please, I beg of you, do not make me accept him today. I could not bear it.”
Looking at the pale, frightened face of his daughter, Mr Bennet seized the solution she offered. A week’s delay could do no harm, and some other solution might present itself. There seemed a reasonable prospect that Mr Bingley might offer for Jane, and he was certainly rich enough to take on the whole family should the need arise. Or perhaps … but no ... he really could think of no other way to secure his family’s future. Still, a week was not too much to ask.
With a small smile, Mr Bennet agreed. “One week, Lizzy. I can convince your mother and Mr Collins to wait that long, I think. But I ask you to think carefully on his offer. You would be mistress of Longbourn one day. Much might be endured for that, I think. In the meantime, I will not badger you, but cannot promise the same for your mother. Now get along with you, and ask Mrs Bennet to step in, please.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath before emerging from her father’s study. She was not surprised to find her mother waiting impatiently in the corridor. Carefully keeping her face blank and her eyes fixed on the carpet, Elizabeth informed Mrs Bennet that her husband wished to speak to her, and then quickly made her escape to her bedroom. She did not want to hear her mother’s first reaction to the news of her being granted a week’s grace.
Safely ensconced in the window seat in her bedroom, knees drawn up and head resting on the window pane, Elizabeth Bennet searched for a solution to her problem. She had seven days to find a way out, although at the moment she could not quite see what that might be.
A Sorrowful Sister
Jane Bennet sought refuge in the bedroom she shared with her sister Elizabeth. The tumult following Mr Collins’ unsuccessful proposal to Elizabeth that morning had been completely forgotten when she read the note just delivered from her friend Caroline Bingley. Jane had only recently met the lady, when her brother Mr Charles Bingley had taken a lease on the neighbouring estate, Netherfield Park. She had found Caroline a congenial friend, if a little too concerned with fashion and high society for Jane’s taste, but her real interest had soon been fixed on Caroline’s brother. Mr Bingley was just what a young man ought be – sensible, good humoured, lively, with happy manners, perfect good breeding, and handsome. Jane had tried to guard her heart, but it was quickly lost to the gentleman. And she had reason to think her affection might be reciprocated. Mr Bingley had paid her the most particular attentions, even dancing with her twice at the Meryton assembly and twice at the Netherfield Ball. She had begun to nurse a gentle hope of one day being Mrs Bingley.
But this morning she had received a letter from Caroline that was like a bucket of cold water. Couched in the warmest language of friendship, Miss Bingley had wielded a knife directly to Jane’s heart. The missive explained that the Netherfield party were returning to town for the winter, with no expectation of coming back to Hertfordshire. Caroline hinted at her brother wooing Mr Darcy’s sister, and being much engaged with the distractions of London society. Even kind-hearted Jane could see the cruelty in Caroline Bingley’s calculated snub. She might have thought it well-meant, perhaps intended to gently relieve her of any expectations, but for the way Caroline’s disdain dripped through every line. This was indeed written with a poison pen.
Jane was distraught. Not only was her friend exposed as being no friend at all, but the man she had held in the highest regard was apparently leaving without even a farewell, and with no expectation of return. Her hopes were shattered, and with them, her heart. She wanted nothing more than to curl up on the window seat and cry.
When she entered her room, she found the window seat already occupied. “Lizzy,” she blurted, “what are you doing here?”
“Hiding from Mama, Jane. And you?”
Tears began to trickle down Jane Bennet’s cheeks, and she could not bring herself to speak. Mutely, she held Caroline Bingley’s note out to Elizabeth, who drew Jane down to sit beside her as she began to read. It did not take long – although long enough for Elizabeth to let out several outraged gasps and snorts. When she finished it, she drew her sister into her embrace and sighed, “Oh, Jane. How could she be so horrible?”
The two sisters comforted each other for a time, before Jane sat up and dried her eyes. “I will not regret him, Elizabeth. He has made no declaration. I have no right to an expectation. I will remember him as simply the nicest man of my acquaintance.”
Struck by a sudden idea, Elizabeth asked when Miss Bingley said they would be leaving. “She speaks of removing to town immediately,” replied Jane.
“Then we must go straight away,” her sister said.
Elizabeth did not explain, nor give Jane time to question her, but pulled her sister down the stairs, tossed her pelisse and bonnet into her hands, and, grabbing her own outer wear, set off down the lane, ignoring the surprised faces of Mrs Bennet and Mr Collins as they emerged from the parlour to see what the commotion was. Jane followed, tying her bonnet and buttoning her pelisse as she went, and hurried to catch up to Elizabeth, who was already striding quickly towards Netherfield.
“What are you about, Lizzy?”
“It would be most remiss of us not to bid our neighbours goodbye, Jane.”
“It will seem we are throwing ourselves in their path, Lizzy. What will they think of us?”
“Well, we know what Caroline Bingley already thinks of us. The real question is whether her brother shares that opinion, and if we do not seek them out, we will never know.”
Elizabeth did not break stride, and Jane worked valiantly to keep up with her. She recognised the fixed determination on her sister’s face, and knew better than to argue with Lizzy when she had made up her mind about something. Perhaps it was indecorous to call on the Bingleys without an invitation, but Jane did agree that it would be better to know if Charles Bingley was really severing their acquaintance, than to be left wondering. Warding her heart in expectation of further pain, she ceased debating the wisdom of their journey and devoted her energy to keeping pace with her sister.
Elizabeth’s mind was working fiercely at the several problems the day had presented her with. Of most immediate urgency was to find out whether Caroline Bingley’s bitter little missive represented only her own views, or also spoke for her brother. If the latter, then the cad did not deserve Jane. But he had given every impression of being better than his sisters – a genuinely kind gentleman, perfectly suited to Jane – and if that we so, he no more deserved such a cruel separation than Jane did. The chance to bring them face to face once more before he departed Netherfield was no sooner considered than it was acted upon. Until that encounter, there was little more Elizabeth could do to gain more insight into Jane’s situation.
Her own dilemma, however, she had only begun to ponder when Jane had interrupted her. There
was a small chance that, despite everything that had been said, her father might support her in refusing Mr Collins a week hence, but Mr Bennet’s remarks that morning did not give her comfort. There was every chance that he would insist on her accepting the parson’s hand, and as she had not yet reached her majority, she would have no choice but to obey. Some other solution must be found, and must be found quickly. If Mr Bingley departed without prospect of return, then she could not rely on Jane to save her by herself marrying well.
Her own marriage was obvious solution, if only there was someone else to marry. Elizabeth knew all the eligible men of the neighbourhood, and none of them had ever expressed the slightest interest in her. Charlotte’s brother, Peter Lucas was too young. Mr Goulding carried a tendre for Mary Long. Even Mr Johnston, a widower gentleman of middle years whose estate was some ten miles distant and who had a brood of children, was courting the widow Mrs Anderson. It was indeed a limited society, and the prospects were few.
Elizabeth methodically considered the entire male acquaintance of the Bennets. Although the list did not include anyone for whom she felt the slightest inclination to marry, at least there was no one so distasteful as her cousin. In order to avoid marriage to Mr Collins, she might accept almost any gentleman of good sense, regardless of property or person.
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