This Disconcerting Happiness: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Christina Morland

  However, he did express the prescient fear that he should die before either you or your sister married. I call it prescient now, but at the time, I thought his fear was borne entirely from a case that was circulating in Derbyshire. Sir Ellington, an acquaintance of your father, had died, leaving his young daughter in the care of his bachelor son. The son, though a respectable young man, was too much swayed by his own business—chiefly, that of finding a wife for himself—to give proper attention to the education of his sister. As a result, the young woman, caring less for convention than was prudent, brought a scandal upon herself and her family.

  When relating this story to me, your father stated quite clearly that he did not believe you or your sister would ever fall into such a situation. And though I know not the details of your current troubles—nor would I wish to, unless knowing them could help me serve your cause—I am certain that so respectable a young woman as Miss Darcy could have little in common with the wild Miss Ellington.

  Yet I do believe that this story motivated your father to add the stipulation to his will—not because he believed you unable to fulfill your duties or your sister likely to run wild but because he knew that all young men, no matter how dutiful, are too busy to remain at home with their younger sisters and oversee their education. He hoped that, should he die before Miss Darcy was of age, you would have a wife who would be able to watch over Miss Darcy while you went about the business of the world. He considered making Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine guardians outright, but he feared the effect this might have on you and your sister. Therefore, he decided that a provisional guardianship would represent the most prudent course of action, allowing family to intervene if they felt it necessary to do so.

  Forgive me for digressing, especially when you have asked for a succinct response. I did feel, however, that I should advise you on your father’s reasoning, as I understood it, before I addressed the question you posed: could you, by marrying now, nullify the provisional guardianship clause and thereby deliver Miss Darcy into your care?

  The simple, yet incomplete, answer is yes. Because Miss Darcy is still legally under your care, were you to marry before your uncle and aunt made an official complaint, they would, according to the letter of the law, have no justification under your father’s will for claiming guardianship.

  However, I would not be fulfilling my duty to your father—or to you—if I did not write that such an action might be within the letter of the law but would not satisfy the spirit of your father’s will. The cause of your troubles took place while you were a bachelor, and Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine might use this point to press their suit against you. In other words, you might not avoid a legal confrontation, which you have said is, aside from regaining custody, your greatest desire. Moreover, I am certain your father would not have wished his will to be interpreted as such, nor do I believe that you would wish to disrespect the intent of your father’s wishes.

  I beg forgiveness for any offense I may have caused, but you, like your father before you, have always encouraged me to speak openly. My counsel, sir, would be to seek a compromise with your family. If I can be of any service in this regard, you need only to write, and I will do all in my power to aid you.

  With sincere wishes for your health and happiness,

  John Vernon, Esq.

  Chapter Six

  Elizabeth had tiptoed her way to the side door of the house before realizing she had not put on a bonnet. Peering out the window, she saw the threatening clouds and decided she had better go back for her cap if she wanted to brave the late November weather.

  “Cousin Elizabeth!”

  Then again, perhaps not.

  Without glancing back to see if Mr. Collins had spotted her, Elizabeth pulled open the door and hurried outside. Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, she gathered her skirts and ran past the shrubbery, through the pretty little gate at the back of the park, and up the hill until she had reached one of the large oaks at the edge of Longbourn estate. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, Elizabeth stared up at the dying leaves and tried to catch her breath.

  Despite everything, she could not help but smile. Had this tree not been her friend for many years, sheltering her when the sun shone too brightly and the rain fell too heavily? And had it not taught her to climb, fall, and climb again?

  Caring little for the state of her dress—she would have to change later for the Netherfield Ball—she sank to the ground, enjoying the rough texture of the bark against her back and the chill of the ground against her legs. She gazed across the meadow and tried to think only of the high wind stripping the trees of their few remaining leaves. When that failed, she attempted to focus on the smell of the earth, damp and fresh from the frequent showers that had kept the people of Hertfordshire indoors for much of the past week.

  Yet no matter how alluring the primal beauty of the stormy autumn morning, Elizabeth’s mind could not help but return to the more mundane affairs of men: she thought of Mr. Collins, her silly cousin whose clumsy pursuit of her and whose reports of a Miss de Bourgh—“A most beautiful young lady, shortly to be married to her cousin Mr. Darcy”—disturbed her; of Mr. Wickham, an officer new to Meryton whose handsome face and ugly tales of a will unfulfilled upset her; and of Mr. Darcy, whose entire being seemed designed to cause her distress. The apparent coldness he displayed to most everyone in Meryton, not to mention his boyhood friend, belied the warmth he had shown her at Netherfield.

  Had she, as her Aunt Gardner worried, been fooled?

  Oh, she had not given her heart to Mr. Darcy—her aunt was quite mistaken about that!—but she had grown to like him. How could she not respect a man who quoted Shakespeare, enjoyed a good argument, and kept her father’s secret so well?

  He certainly seemed to have experience at keeping secrets.

  Not that it was any of her concern if he was engaged. As for Mr. Wickham—well, she knew not what to think on that score. Wickham’s face had been so open, his voice so full of sincerity, and yet…

  “A headache, Lizzy?”

  She started at the appearance of her older sister, who failed to look stern despite her raised eyebrows and crossed arms.

  Elizabeth smiled and patted the ground beside her. Hesitating for just a moment—“I suppose we will have to change soon for the ball,”—Jane sat down and put an arm around her sister.

  “It is a miracle, Jane. My headache disappeared the moment I left the table.”

  “Oh, Lizzy!” Jane laughed. “I suppose Mr. Collins has his eccentricities, but—”

  “Eccentricities? If I had to hear about Lady Catherine’s fireplaces one more time, I would have thrown my plate of kippers at him!”

  “I do not think Mama would have approved that.”

  “No, but Papa would have.”

  Jane’s smile slipped. “Have you noticed…Something is different about Papa lately.”

  Elizabeth looked away. “What do you mean?”

  “I do not know if I can put words to it. He looks fatigued, though he seems to sleep more than ever. And there are moments when I have caught him staring at us in such an odd way.”

  It was the perfect opportunity to speak the words…

  “I do wish he would go with us to Netherfield this evening,” Jane continued with a sigh.

  Elizabeth released a long breath. “Oh, he would only complain about our silliness. And I have no wish for him to see me dancing with Mr. Collins. He would be certain to make sport of that for quite some time!”

  “I have noticed that our cousin admires you a great deal.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “It is his only show of good sense! No, that is not true. He admired you first, which shows even greater sense. But when he learned of your Mr. Bingley…”

  “He is not my Mr. Bingley!”

  “Jane, if you were not so good, I would despise you for your false modesty.”

  “Truly, Lizzy! I think it is far too soon to attribute any feelings beyond friendship to Mr. B
ingley. Indeed, his sister seems to hint that he has feelings for Mr. Darcy’s younger sister.”

  “I would not believe a word from Caroline Bingley’s mouth, Jane.”

  “No, you are being too hard. She has always been very kind to me. It was very considerate of her to write after we left Netherfield, to ask after my health and your health, too, remember! When she mentioned that Mr. Bingley was considering leaving Hertfordshire soon after the ball, that he had expressed eagerness to return to old friends such as Miss Darcy, I feel certain she was trying to warn me.”

  “It is clear that Miss Bingley wishes to become a Darcy, so it is no surprise that she would imagine her brother would wish to marry one, as well.” Elizabeth scoffed. “Perhaps we should introduce her to Mr. Collins at the ball tonight. I am certain she would be overjoyed with the news of Mr. Darcy’s engagement to his cousin.”

  As overjoyed as you were, Lizzy.

  “It is strange that their engagement was not mentioned when we met,” Jane said.

  “There seems to be a great deal about Mr. Darcy that we do not know.”

  Jane studied her sister. “You are referring to Mr. Wickham’s story? Lydia told me his tale. It is very shocking!”

  Elizabeth looked sharply at Jane. “How does Lydia know anything of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham?”

  “Perhaps he told her. They danced several reels together at Aunt Philip’s.”

  Elizabeth frowned.

  “Does that bother you?” Jane gasped. “Oh, Lizzy, you have not lost your heart to him, have you?”

  “What? I hardly know Mr. Darcy!”

  Jane blinked. “I meant Mr. Wickham.”

  Elizabeth tried to laugh. “I know even less of Mr. Wickham! No, my heart is fully my own. Unlike yours.”

  Jane blushed. “It is very obvious, is it not? I must try to behave with more composure tonight. I would not want him to think that—”

  “Jane, listen to me. No one but those who know you best are aware of your feelings. You are ever so proper in his presence.” She hesitated. “Perhaps too proper.”

  “Too proper? What do you mean?”

  Elizabeth shook her head, regretting her words. She sounded too much like Charlotte, and as much as she loved her friend, she did not like her attitude toward marriage. “Never mind me. I am only teasing.”

  “No, I do not think you were. Lizzy, how should I behave? I feared I was being too forward, that my regard was painfully obvious! Surely, he cannot doubt…”

  “I hardly know what he thinks, Jane. Please, forget I said anything at all. You should behave as you always do. Be yourself, and he cannot help but love you.”

  Jane sighed. “It is all so very confusing.”

  “Indeed. I am, from this day forward, going to say exactly what is on my mind.”

  “I hardly see how that is any different from now!”

  Elizabeth smiled. “You have given me a great compliment. Now, if only we could convince the rest of the world to behave as well as we did. We should all be able to trust everyone.”

  “I cannot think,” Jane said, leaning back against the tree and staring up at the sky, “of a single person in Meryton that I do not trust.”

  “If Papa were here, he would say that is the silliest comment he has heard all day. Since he is not here, let me say it for him.”

  “You may laugh at me if you wish,” Jane replied, “but I am in earnest.”

  “It is impossible, Jane, or at least foolish, to believe everyone.”

  “I suppose that must be true. However, I would like to think that most conflicts arise out of misunderstandings, not malevolence.”

  “That is because you would like to see the best in everyone. What if…” Elizabeth paused and bit her lip. “What if you discovered that someone you trusted, someone you admired, was keeping something very important from you.”

  “You are thinking of Mr. Wickham’s story, are you not? It must have been very hard for him to have received such a blow from a man he considered his childhood friend.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Very well, let us take Mr. Wickham’s tale. Either he is telling the truth—and Mr. Darcy kept him from taking his rightful place in the church—or he is lying.”

  “Surely you do not think he would lie about such a situation, especially when Mr. Darcy is in Meryton to contradict it.”

  “Then you believe Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth said. “That would mean Mr. Darcy is a very selfish and cruel gentleman.”

  Jane shook her head. “I cannot believe that, either. I do not think the Bingleys would associate with such a man.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “But it is a contradiction to believe Mr. Wickham honest and Mr. Darcy kind!”

  “Perhaps Mr. Wickham misunderstood his relationship with the late Mr. Darcy. Or perhaps Mr. Darcy misunderstood his father’s intentions. I do not know much of anything about wills, I grant you, but there have been many cases in which two parties—both well meaning—have interpreted the same will in different ways.”

  “I do not give you enough credit, Jane. That is a very clever response.”

  “It is not clever. It is simply my observation.”

  “Well, I am not as good as you. I believe one of them is at fault.”

  “Yet you are not sure which. That is unlike you, Lizzy. You are usually very decided in your opinions.”

  “Yes, one of my many faults.”

  “When Lydia told us of the story, Mama and my sisters were quite ready to believe Mr. Wickham. Actually, Mary quoted scripture and said that they should not be so quick to judge.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Apparently I do not give Mary enough credit, either.”

  “So you believe Mr. Darcy, then!”

  “I do not know. As you said, it would make little sense for Mr. Wickham to spread lies about a gentleman who is present to defend himself. And he appeared very sincere in telling me his story. But I cannot help but wonder why he told me. Not to mention Lydia, if that is how she came across the tale. We are practically strangers.”

  “It must weigh very heavily upon him.”

  Elizabeth frowned. She could hardly blame him for wanting to speak of his own misfortunes. Had she not done the same? Yet, she had not intended to tell Mr. Darcy—or anyone else for that matter. And Mr. Darcy—had he not admitted to having a burden of his own? Had he been thinking of Mr. Wickham? Or perhaps even of his fiancée? He had mentioned his sister. Perhaps she was unhappy with his choice of a bride? Or had she something to do with Mr. Wickham?

  The fact of the matter was, Mr. Darcy had not told her of his troubles, though she had given him leave to do so. Mr. Wickham, on the other hand, had not hesitated to relate his own tales of woe. Had she not been entrusted with her father’s secret, Elizabeth would have been inclined to trust Mr. Wickham’s openness over Mr. Darcy’s reticence. Now, though, with her father’s illness weighing on her, she had more sympathy for Mr. Darcy’s inability to speak. There seemed something unnatural—or, at the very least, impolite—about Mr. Wickham’s behavior.

  “Lizzy! Jane!”

  Both sisters looked up and saw Lydia and Kitty running toward them. When Elizabeth spotted Mary attempting to catch up with her younger sisters, she scrambled to her feet.

  “What is it? Is it—is everyone well at the house?”

  Lydia and Kitty made faces, and Mary said, somewhat breathlessly, “Your concern for the family does you credit. But I believe my sisters wanted to inform you that Mr. Collins is searching for you.”

  “Inform?” Lydia snorted. “We wanted to warn you. What a bore he is!”

  Even Mary did not contradict her description of him.

  Kitty squealed and pointed toward the house. “Someone is opening the door! Hurry! Let us go for a very long walk!”

  “Oh, Kitty,” Jane said, rising and brushing off her skirts. “You are not being very—”

  “That is not Mr. Collins. It is Papa!” Lydia cried. “Do you think he will make us return to the house and listen to anoth
er of Mr. Collins’ sermons?”

  “I very well should,” their father called from the bottom of the little hill where they stood.

  Elizabeth hurried down the incline, nearly slipping as she reached him. “Papa,” she whispered, “you should not be out here! It is too cold!”

  “You have become too missish for your own good,” he replied, smiling. “Help me up the hill, my dear. I feel the need for a bit of exercise.”

  She cast him a sideways glance as they made their way toward the other girls. “Mr. Collins must have taken residence in your study again.”

  “You are very perceptive. After he failed to find you, he found me. So, I told him that that he should amuse himself with one of my books.”

  “That was very generous of you.”

  “Not at all. I expect you to return to the house soon enough and relieve me of him.”

  Elizabeth groaned. “I will have to spend enough time with him this evening at the ball.”

  “Will you not come to the ball, too, Papa?” Jane asked.

  He smiled. “I should much rather read.”

  “Read! Sometimes,” Lydia said, shaking her head, “I find it difficult to believe that we are related!”

  “I have that very same thought at least once a day,” he replied. “Oh, do not look so disappointed, Jane. You would not pay me any attention if I did go to the ball.”

  “I would sit with you, Sir,” Mary said. “I have no intention of dancing. We could discuss Thomas Aquinas.”

  “Mary, child, you are too fond of theologians.”

  “Who talks of books at a ball? You should dance with me, Papa!” Kitty exclaimed.

  “A tempting offer, if I did not know that you step on your partners’ toes.”

  “I would offer you a dance, Papa, but I am certain to have too many partners as it is,” Lydia said. “All those officers!”