Yes, Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Novella

by J Dawn King

  Yes, Mr. Darcy

  A Pride and Prejudice Novella

  J. Dawn King

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy!” Copyright © 2016 by Joy D. King

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems – except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews – without permission in writing from its publisher Joy D. King.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, locations, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover: JD Smith – Design

  Cover photography © Richard Jenkins 2016

  Interior Formatting: Anibal Renán Ramirez

  Published by Joy D. King

  EBook-13: 978-0-9975376-0-4

  Library of Congress Control Number - 2016906671

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  My sincerest thanks go to the editing team of Debbie Fortin and Anji Dale. Do you realize you are the most patient individuals on the planet? You are.

  This project is my first novella length story. I found out during the process of developing this tale that I am, as my husband and mother have accused me of on more than one occasion, wordy. Who knew? Well, my husband and mom did, of course.

  Richard Jenkins, you proved to be a miracle worker. After weeks of searching online for an appropriate cover image, I found your site and almost swooned with the quality and variety of your work. You, too, proved to be patient as together we chose the best Lizzy Bennet. Isn’t she lovely? Sigh!

  Finally, to the many readers who left hundreds of comments and reviews on fanfiction.net. You rock!!!

  To my Mom—with affection and love. I’m proud to be your daughter.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Elizabeth Bennet knew heartbreak when she heard it. She had listened to its mournful wails from her mother each time a birth resulted in a daughter rather than the needed son. The expected joy turning to hopelessness when the midwife announced the sex. Years after the last child was born, Elizabeth had sobbed when her father finally explained to his favorite daughter the circumstances of the entail on their home, which they would lose to a relative stranger if a son was not to be had. It was the first of many small cracks in Elizabeth’s heart.

  She had witnessed the depths of despair when her eldest sister shed salty tears as another year passed and no suitor came to Longbourn asking for her hand. The sweetest sister in the world with no hope caused the cracks to splinter, like a pane of glass that did not shatter on impact—where the fracture spread out like a bolt of lightning across a cloud-covered sky.

  Her own dear father’s demand that Elizabeth marry Longbourn’s heir to protect her mother and sisters was an arrow that pierced the remains of her distressed organ. She was crushed. The visit to Derbyshire with her beloved aunt and uncle was to be her last opportunity for freedom before the marriage was arranged. Until this point in their travels, Elizabeth had been able to force the future from her thinking. Hearing the woman cry brought it all back. Yes, Elizabeth Bennet knew heartbreak.

  The lady standing in the churchyard was younger than Elizabeth had assumed. She was dressed finely in pastel colors. Elizabeth was surprised to find there was no black; the grief seemed fresh. Yet the headstone was weathered and elegantly carved, attesting to the passage of time since the loved one died. Was it a parent? A brother or sister? A mate?

  The Gardiners, accompanied by their niece, had arrived in Lambton the day prior. Madeline Gardiner had grown up in the small market town and had been pleased when her husband offered her the opportunity to visit old friends. Days of travel had left Elizabeth feeling restless, something she would mend with a walk through the village into the countryside. This was already the third trip from one end of the town to the other. Touring the small town took very little time.

  The cemetery was beside an old stone church which looked to have been in place for centuries. It was solid, with climbing ivy surrounding each window opening as if trying to spy on those who attended services—and account for those who did not. Black wrought-iron gates, standing open, invited the curious and those suffering a loss. The young girl appeared to be the latter.

  Elizabeth was more than curious. She felt the young miss’s pain in her own heart. The girl appeared to be the same age as her youngest sister, Lydia. How could she not offer assistance? She approached quietly, stopping only to gather some wildflowers growing by the gate.

  When she reached the girl’s side, she extended the hand clasping the blossoms. It caught the attention of the mourner. Embarrassed at being found in tears, the young lady put her finely embroidered handkerchief to use. Then she reached for the posy.

  With not a word spoken, she knelt to place the flowers on the grave. Elizabeth looked to the carving. One year to the day.

  “Mrs. Mildred Northam”

  Born 2 May 1734

  Died 30 July 1810

  “Beloved Nurse and Companion”

  “Would you mind telling me about Mrs. Northam? Was she a kindly woman? Did she enjoy children?” Elizabeth whispered her questions. She was pleased when the girl turned her eyes towards her. They were brilliant blue. Kind, troubled eyes.

  “She was the wisest woman I have ever known. When my mother passed at my birth, Mrs. Northam cared for me as if I was her own. Though elderly, she was spry and inventive and imaginative—everything a little girl could possibly want in a friend. She had tended my brother before me and my father as well so Norty was family.” The young girl sighed. “My brother wanted to place her alongside our parents in the family crypt. However, before she died she insisted on being outside in the sunshine. Nature was her greatest pleasure.” The girl’s chest heaved, the sigh more audible than the sobs had been. “I have missed her presence many times over the last year, but never more so than now.”

  “May I offer my sympathies to you?” Elizabeth was sincere. She could see by the girl’s countenance that she was a gentle soul. With the loss of her parents and the mention of only one brother, who may not have been much older, this sad young lady was alone. Elizabeth sought to share her pain, a way to emotionally meet on common ground. “All of my grandparents are gone. It has been many years, but I miss them still.” She moved a bit closer, within arms distance. “My aunt, uncle, and I are merely passing through these parts, so you may speak to me with impunity should you like. I have four sisters and no brother at home. I know how much it helps to speak of grief.” Elizabeth took another small step towards her. “Might I share your burden?”

  It was boldly done. However, the facts could not be denied. Elizabeth would remain in Lambton for no more than three days before pressing home to Hertfordshire and the misery which awaited her. For some reason, hearing someone else’s sorrow eased her own.

  “You would do this for a stranger?” The girl was bewildered.

  Elizabeth smiled at her and asked, “Would you not do it for me?”

  The girl paused for only a moment before directing Elizabeth to a bench placed at the edge of the cemetery.

  “I grew up but a few miles from here. My brother is much older than me and has been more like a father for the past five years since the death of Papa. His friend and companion while he was growing up showed me special attention while I was at the seaside this summer.” The tears again started falling. “I acted as a foolish child.” Her breath shuddered in and out. “I convinced myself that he loved me. However, it was my dowry which caught and held his attention. Nothing else.”

  Elizabeth rea
ched over and placed her hand on the young girl’s. “I am deeply sorry. You must have been devastated when you realized his treachery.”

  The girl bowed her head, her chin almost touching her chest. “I was.” She sniffed inelegantly. Elizabeth smiled, touched that the young lady was so comfortable in her presence. “A million times I have wished Norty was here.”

  “What do you believe she would do if she was?”

  “She would hold me and scold me and remind me how young I am. Then she would call me a silly girl and tell me to wipe my tears and then have me walk with her in the gardens on the south lawn with the tall oak trees so I would realize how small my problems are in comparison to the world around me.”

  Elizabeth softly chuckled at the haste with which the girl spoke. “Ah, she sounds a wise woman.”

  “Oh, she was exceedingly wise. It was as if she knew what I was thinking before I thought it.” The girl chuckled as well. “One time, when I was but ten years of age, I had been spending much time in the gallery in our home, studying the portrait of my mother. My brother is dark-haired like Papa and I have my mother’s straw-colored hair. My father used to call me a miniature of her. However, it was not their faces that interested me. My mother’s clothing and hair intrigued me. Before I could mention my interest, Norty had brought down one of my mother’s ball gowns and dressed me up to be a small replica, tall powdered hair and all.”

  The girl laughed. “I looked atrocious. There were not enough pins at Pemberley to make the dress do anything other than hang on me and the powder kept getting into my nose and making me sneeze each time I moved my head. When I asked to have it removed, Norty told me I had to wear it downstairs to dinner, just as my mother had done. Unfortunately, my brother was home from university and was witness to my foolishness.” She sighed with the memory. “He did not laugh like I thought he would. Instead, he offered me his arm, as if I was a grown up lady, and escorted me to the dining room.” She giggled.

  Elizabeth smiled along with her, grateful the girl was sharing a treasured event from her youth.

  “It was my first time eating out of the nursery. However, each time I moved my head to take a bite of soup, white debris would drop into the bowl. Fitzwilliam and I both received a stern look from Papa at the laughter neither of us could contain and I was asked to return upstairs and dress appropriately. My brother helped me from my seat as the dress was a challenge to walk in, bowed to me, and then escorted me upstairs. He called me, ‘my lady’. A tray was brought up and he ate with me, his big form bent double trying to fit on one of the small chairs. Norty laughed at us both. She never minded a bit of mischief from either of us and she always understood why we wanted what we did.”

  “I comprehend your love of such an incredible woman.” Elizabeth smiled at her.

  “She was special in every way.” The girl’s eyes looked to the skyline beyond the cemetery, lost to years past.

  “Then might I ask again: What instruction do you believe she would give you now?”

  “I do not know.” The answer came fast.

  Elizabeth waited.

  “Oh, I do know.” For the first time the girl looked directly at Elizabeth. “She would remind me that I am not yet sixteen and have two years before I am ready to be out in society. Norty would reason with me until I figured out whatever lessons I had learned from my decisions. She would then inquire, bluntly, I might add, when I would get around to learning them.”

  It had been the same with Elizabeth’s father. He appreciated curiosity, but he thrived on improving Elizabeth’s understanding of what made the world go around, what her place was on the earth, and how she could benefit herself and others by living there.

  “So I will ask you, since your dear Norty is not here, what lesson did you learn?”

  The girl pondered and Elizabeth could see she was giving the matter her full attention.

  “Before this summer, I did not fully appreciate my own value, my heritage. Our family is gentry and I am the granddaughter of an earl. Had my brother not rescued me before it was too late and had my actions become known, I would have been solely responsible for damaging my family name. Norty taught me how to behave properly. I know the rules of society. Nevertheless, I allowed myself to believe that love justified breaking the rules. I was wrong.”

  “Solely responsible? What about the young man?”

  “Yes, he was wrong in approaching me, trying to take advantage of my ignorance and innocence. Nonetheless, because of his position in society, the repercussion would have come back on me, not him.”

  “I am sure you are correct.” Elizabeth again reached over and patted the back of her hand. “Since I am assuming it has not become known, what will you do the next time a young man professes his love? How will you act?”

  “I will not put my trust in my own emotions as I know my heart is treacherous.” She stiffened her spine and lifted her chin. “My brother and my cousin, who both serve as my guardians, are intelligent men. I will trust their judgement from now on.”

  “Then, Norty is here, miss.” Elizabeth glanced back to the grave. “The principles she instilled and the closeness you felt is still within you. It will never leave you as long as you remember her voice.” Elizabeth asked, “Has your brother said as much to you?”

  “I cannot bear to look at him to see his disappointment.” She whispered as her chin dropped again. “He inherited the weight of responsibly managing our estate and the care of me. I have caused him no end of pain because of what I have done.” Tears dripped on the front of her dress.

  A deep voice spoke from behind them. “Never, dearest.”

  Both Elizabeth and the young lady turned. Before them was a handsome man dressed in fine clothing. His chiseled face was without expression, though his eyes were filled with sorrow.

  “Fitzwilliam!” The girl stood and ran to his opened arms. “However did you find me?”

  He hugged her to him, whispering soft words of reassurance, and rested his cheek on the top of her bonnet. “Where else would you be, Georgie?”

  Elizabeth could not take her eyes away from them. So much pain for two people so alone. Remembering her own troubles, she was surprised at her longing to climb inside those strong arms and hear his promises of comfort.

  The young girl needed her no longer. Standing, she quietly left the graveyard, knowing she would never see them again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Fitzwilliam Darcy was perplexed. Where could she have gone?

  He had diligently searched Lambton for the woman who had provided solace and imparted such keen insight to Georgiana, to no avail. She seemed to have vanished into the air. For months, each time he had ridden through the small hamlet, his eyes examined the footpaths and the shops. Yet he did not find her.

  When he had taken Georgiana to London to resume her studies with the masters, he looked there as well. Many times over the past months he regretted not speaking up, not seeking an introduction. But it was not the time nor the place to have done so. The words the young woman uttered to his sister had started the process of healing so that Georgiana was restored to him. Her confidence in her ability to make decisions and to be independent had blossomed. Darcy owed the woman his undying gratitude.

  Everywhere he went, he searched. Eventually, he hoped in his heart that if he looked long enough and hard enough, he would find her.

  Finally, he did.

  The autumn assembly in the market town of Meryton was held in a crowded room attached to the inn. Darcy’s party was late arriving. The music was almost ready to start.

  She stood before him, her face as beautiful as he remembered. But her eyes…gone was the kind intelligence and the flash of life he had observed when she had comforted his sister. In their place he saw misery of the acutest kind. He recognized her mask, the impenetrable shield worn in public so observers could not see the pain and agony of heart that threatened to overwhelm her. He wondered at the cause.

  Elizabeth Bennet. A regal na
me for a queenly countenance.

  He bowed. Before he did, he spied the flicker of recognition.

  “Mr. Darcy,” the screech of the woman’s mother, heard above the musicians tuning their instruments before beginning the dance, drew his eyes back from where they longed to remain. “You have yet to meet my husband’s cousin, Mr. William Collins, rector of Hunsford, who serves under the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, a grand woman of substantial means. Mr. Bennet and I hope that soon we will have a much closer familial relationship, with both the Lady and our cousin—when a particular blessed event takes place.”

  Darcy was horrified to see Mrs. Bennet look towards Elizabeth as the means of establishing that closer relationship. She was taken?

  Darcy’s eyes shot to the man standing far too close to the young woman. He knew him. In the spring when he had visited his aunt’s home, Rosings Park in Kent, the rector had been newly installed in the living his aunt held. It had taken only a few minutes to know the man as a groveling sycophant who sought to please his patroness, rather than the God he had sworn to serve.