Mr Darcy to the Rescue: A Pride and Prejudice Regency Variation

by Diana Enright

  He scrutinised her face, wanting to see her reaction. She intrigued him still—he wondered if she would ever stop intriguing him, even when…

  He shook his head. He knew rationally that he should not think in such a way, especially now. But he couldn’t help it. It was as if his feelings for her were set to overpower his other senses. And even knowing that, he was powerless to stop them.

  “Ah,” she said. “What a shame. Has Mr. Bingley stayed with you for long?”

  She did a fine job of appearing unaffected, but the upward turn of her lips betrayed her relief to him. It made him swell with happiness to think that he had spared her from further discomfort.

  “Just a few weeks. You remember him from Netherfield.”

  “Yes.”

  “A wonderful fellow. He holds you in high regard.”

  This time, her reaction puzzled him.

  “Hardly,” Elizabeth said.

  “I do not know what you mean,” Darcy said. “He told me as much.”

  Bingley had been incredibly fond of the Bennets, indeed to a greater extent than was healthy, which was why Darcy had prevailed on him to remove himself from Hertfordshire.

  Her reaction to this was even more curious. Instead of being flattered and smiling politely, she winced and looked away. For a fraction of a second, she appeared almost sour. Darcy pretended not to pay much attention.

  “I did not get that impression,” Miss Elizabeth snapped.

  Darcy looked up in time to see a warning look pass from aunt to niece. He knew it was impolite to press her on the matter, but something told him it was too significant to ignore. He had understood her discomfort stemmed from Miss Bingley’s presence: had he been wrong?

  “You do not think he is an agreeable fellow?”

  “Oh, quite agreeable,” she said, an unmistakeable darkness passing over her face. “Rather too agreeable.”

  “I’m afraid,” he said with a confused laugh. “That I cannot discern the meaning of your words.”

  She would only shake her head in response.

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Gardiner said, appearing embarrassed. “I hate to speak about a private matter, but I do not wish for you to be confused after you have been so hospitable to us. Elizabeth simply means that my other niece, Jane, was immensely fond of Mr. Bingley and was greatly disappointed when he left Hertfordshire.”

  Chapter 12

  Lizzy paid scant attention to the rest of the conversation, pretending to focus all her energy on the book she was reading. It was an unremarkable volume that she had been surprised to find in Darcy’s library, but it was a perfect excuse to stay silent. As soon as Mrs. Gardiner stood and announced her intention to retire for the evening, Lizzy jumped to her feet and followed her aunt from the room, almost forgetting to thank Mr. Darcy for his hospitality.

  “Why did you do that?” Lizzy hissed as soon as they reached the first landing. “Why would you tell Darcy about Jane’s feelings? She would be thoroughly embarrassed if she knew you had done so.”

  Mrs. Gardiner shook her head and remained uncharacteristically stern. “I felt I had no choice, Lizzy. Your reaction when he mentioned of Bingley… it was surprisingly harsh. We are his guests: I did not wish for him to think you rude and ungrateful!”

  Lizzy shook her head. It was as if she had been struck—that was how keenly she felt the sting of her aunt’s words. “It was never my intention to come across in such a way. I was simply shocked when he mentioned Bingley’s affection for me. How ridiculous!”

  “There now,” her aunt soothed. “It is quite understandable that you feel this way given what has happened. I am sorry if you feel I have broken Jane’s confidence. I simply spoke of her affection for the man: it was not as if I was indiscreet. It was the only thing I could think of to explain your sudden change in mood. I thought it better than telling him about Lydia.”

  Lizzy sighed. Her indignation abated and she felt tears prick at her eyes. “I am sorry for accusing you, Aunt. You are right. I suppose I felt aggrieved on Jane’s behalf because she feels things so keenly.”

  They wished each other good night and went to their respective rooms. Elizabeth was exhausted after such an eventful day, but she found sleep evaded her. All she could think about was Mr. Darcy. What a strange complicated man he was! He seemed wise and prudent but he had thoroughly misread Bingley’s feelings towards her family. The man she had spoken to tonight was nothing like the prideful man she had first met at Meryton. She did not know what to think. Certainly she knew she was deluding herself by thinking about any kind of future with Darcy. Neither she nor any of her sisters could ever expect to marry a man with any standing in society.

  And that was the main cause of her guilt. She knew it made sense to wait until the apothecary made his final pronouncements, but she could not stop thinking that the fate of her family rested on her shoulders. She should be searching for Lydia instead of relaxing in the home of a man who would want nothing more to do with her as soon as he learnt what had happened. It was not just Elizabeth who would be doomed, but her sisters.

  All of this frantic thinking was causing her head to throb in a most painful way. She dipped a flannel in the long-cold water of the washbasin and applied it to her burning head. It provided some relief from the pain, but unfortunately it was not effective in combatting the disturbing thoughts that plagued her.

  She lay awake for hours, recounting their conversations in her mind before telling herself sternly that she must stop such pointless reflection. When she tried to focus on the Lydia problem, her thoughts invariably returned to Darcy. It was an endless, frustrating cycle from which she only gained relief long after all of the candles in the windows of Mayfair had been extinguished.

  Chapter 13

  Neither knew it, but Elizabeth Bennet was not the only one who lay awake that night in Mayfair. Fitzwilliam Darcy could not sleep either.

  The main reason for his sleeplessness was not something Miss Bennet had done, but rather her aunt’s statement. She had seemed adamant that Jane Bennet had been devastated by Bingley’s departure. Could it be so?

  Usually Darcy would not concern himself with such matters as a young lady’s secret affections. Nor would he normally have rued his intervention. After all, had Bingley not been saved from a union with a family that would soon be disgraced? Darcy had saved his friend from a difficult situation. He had commended himself for doing so.

  He supposed he might feel a lot more pride if the family in question was not that of the remarkable Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He found he could not reflect rationally on matters that concerned her. In this instance, he could not help but reflect that Bingley would have married Miss Bennet if Darcy had not convinced him to leave Netherfield. That, at least, would have provided a degree of insulation for Miss Elizabeth.

  He sighed. “It is my fault. And to think I took such pride in the success of my intervention. What a fool I was!”

  Similar thoughts continued to strike him late into the night. He thought and thought, eventually convincing himself that he was mistaken when he had viewed Miss Elizabeth as an inferior. Late into the night in his bedroom alone, his feverish mind wondered how he might resolve the trouble hanging over Miss Bennet’s life.

  At last, as dawn lightened the sky above the rooftops of Mayfair, he landed on a plan. It was so simple—so brilliantly simple—that he felt he should execute it swiftly. With any luck, he could draw this whole unfortunate matter to a close.

  Darcy felt differently in the morning. He blamed his foolishness on lack of sleep. He lingered longer in his room than he might usually have done, chiding himself for even considering such a ludicrous plan.

  Marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet! He groaned as he remembered his enthusiasm from the previous night, relieved that sanity had prevailed and shown him how idiotic an idea that was.

  His resolve lasted just as long as it took him to descend the stairs and enter the breakfast parlour. There, he met the woman he had thought about for m
ost of the previous night. All logic and sense might as well have flown out the window, he thought in despair, for he had again begun to think of how he might propose.

  “Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth remarked drily. “It appears as if my aunt and I aren’t the only ones to have suffered ill health.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She smiled and it had the immediate effect of soothing his nerves. “From your appearance, one might assume that you too have been in some sort of altercation.”

  Darcy baulked and she must have misinterpreted his expression as anger.

  “I am sorry,” she said, smiling apologetically. “I meant no offence. Perhaps we can blame on to my head injury.”

  “I am not offended,” he said. No, his shock had come at the thought that he might look untidy in her presence. His appearance! He had never given it much thought before, but now pleasing her was apparently chief among his concerns.

  “That is good,” she said, smiling. A moment later, he witnessed a vast change in her demeanour. She seemed worried; ill at ease. “Have you heard any word from the apothecary? What time is he due to arrive?”

  Darcy waved his hand. “Does it matter? He should arrive by late morning. But you must not worry. Haven’t I assured you that you are not imposing in the slightest?”

  She nodded, still uneasy.

  Of course she is, he thought, cursing himself for his idiocy. She is worried silly over her sister. And I have selfishly sought to keep her here as long as possible. I shall send for the apothecary at once.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said, taking a seat at the table. This was another matter he had considered at length. Of course it wasn’t just her sister’s perceived lack of feeling that had caused Darcy to intervene in the matter of Bingley and Jane, but it had indeed been a significant driver of that involvement. “I must ask you a question. You may find it impertinent, but I feel I must ask all the same.”

  Instantly, her cheeks turned the colour of dusky roses. He swallowed, feeling ashamed of himself but compelled to continue.

  “If it is so impertinent, then surely you can resist the urge to ask,” she said, with a hint of amusement.

  “Alas I cannot,” he said. “For it concerns a third party. Please, try to accommodate my question as well as you can and do not think badly of me for asking it.”

  She tilted her head to one side, clearly curious. He admired her for remaining silent and refusing to promise anything until she heard what he had to say.

  He sighed and stared at the old clock on the mantle. It seemed to have grown loud all of a sudden, and he realised the two women had fallen silent and were waiting to hear what it was he had to ask them.

  “Very well,” he muttered. “You aunt mentioned that your sister held no small amount of regard for my friend Mr. Bingley. I must ask you: do you agree with this assessment?”

  Her cheeks flushed even more. “You are asking me to betray the confidence of my sister.”

  Seeing that she was set quite firmly against answering him, he spoke again. “I ask only to help.”

  “I’m sure you do,” she said with a wry smile. “I have never known anyone to admit to having questionable motives.”

  “It is true,” he said. “Though I appreciate your cynicism. Is there any way I can prevail on you to share your knowledge with me?”

  “Perhaps,” she said, pretending to think about it. “You could seek an authority from my sister. If she gives me permission to discuss her feelings with you then I would be happy to oblige.”

  He shook his head. Part of him was frustrated that his curiosity had not been put to rest, but another part was impressed by her loyalty and headstrong refusal to break a confidence.

  “No, I believe that would be laborious in the extreme. My solicitors have enough work to do without drafting agreements that would be acceptable to your discerning eye.”

  She laughed and seemed relieved that he had ceased his questioning. Perhaps she was surprised that he had relented so easily. For Darcy’s part, she didn’t need to say any more. He had received his answer: her reticence had told him all he needed to know.

  Chapter 14

  Lizzy heaved a sigh of relief when Darcy turned his attention to her aunt and asked about some merchant on Gracechurch-street.

  For a moment, she thought the worst had happened; that he had somehow learnt of the reason for her visit to the city. She had been almost relieved to hear Jane’s name, even though she had no intention of revealing anything about Jane’s feelings. She couldn’t figure out why Darcy was showing such an interest. He didn’t seem like the type to meddle in matters of the heart.

  Thankfully, it appeared his interest had waned. She watched him. He was deep in conversation with her aunt.

  No, she thought. This is dangerous. Not to mention utterly futile!

  She stood so quickly that she banged her knee against the leg of the table. Her companions’ heads snapped around at the sound of the loud thud. She gritted her teeth and pretended nothing had happened, even though the pain in her knee was searing.

  “I must go and gather my things.”

  “It was quite a blow to the head, but she was lucky,” the apothecary told Mrs. Gardiner after he had examined the back of Elizabeth’s head and asked her various questions about current affairs and geography. She had asked him, jokingly, what the outlook would have been had she been a simpleton with an aversion to books. He had grunted and muttered something about her mental faculties appearing perfectly fine.

  That was all the encouragement Elizabeth needed. She threw herself off the bed as soon as the man had closed the door and hastened to the other side of the room where her aunt stood.

  “I cannot understand your haste!” Mrs. Gardiner cried. “I have sent word to Edward and urged him to continue the search for Lydia. He knows of the considerable anxiety you feel regarding the matter so I have no doubt…” she trailed off and her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps it is not Lydia that makes you wish to hurry from here.”

  “I do not know what you are referring to,” Lizzy said, busying herself with tidying the few things she had been carrying when the accident took place. “But we should go.”

  “Why are you in such a hurry?” Mrs. Gardiner said, her expression suspicious now. “Mr. Darcy is a wonderful gentleman and he has practically begged us to remain here awhile. And I have no need to remind you that the apothecary urged you to rest! Just because he doesn’t foresee any lasting damage it does not mean that a little rest won’t do you the world of good. You told me yourself that your shoulders are aching.”

  Lizzy shook her head. “I can rest at the house in Gracechurch-street.”

  Mrs. Gardiner sighed. “Just tell me this, Lizzy. What has made you so impatient to leave? Is it Mr. Darcy? He seems like a wonderful, generous man. So why do you wish to hasten away from him?”

  Lizzy debated telling her the truth and decided there was no sense in trying to mislead her aunt. She sighed. “That is the problem,” she admitted at last.

  “What is?” Mrs. Gardiner looked utterly perplexed, as if Lizzy had been speaking in riddles.

  Elizabeth smiled. “His goodness, of course. He was much easier to countenance when I believed him to be a proud, difficult man with little regard for the welfare of others.”

  Her aunt’s face fell and Lizzy immediately regretted sharing her feelings. She had not wished to make Mrs. Gardiner feel bad, rather it had become too much of a burden to keep the truth to herself any longer. She shook her head, telling herself she must stop dwelling on the impossible problem of Mr. Darcy.

  “Come,” she whispered, squeezing her aunt’s hand. “Let us return. We must help my father and uncle.”

  “But Lizzy. I have never before heard you admit such feelings for a young gentleman. It is not like you to walk away from something like this. Shouldn’t we—”

  “No,” Lizzy said. “This is not like some fabric I covet that I know I can purchase if I simply forgo a sash or brooch in favour of it. The
simple truth is I know Mr. Darcy has a high regard for me. I have only learnt of it recently, but it is already too late. He is a respectable gentleman and you know the terrible fate that is about to overwhelm our family. My dear aunt, it is not that I walk away from him easily; more that I am walking before he pushes me away with all of his strength and revulsion. I could not stand such a thing.”

  Chapter 15

  “Your guests have departed,” Mrs. Hudson said, standing in the doorway of the library. She appeared confused by their haste.

  Darcy shrugged. He knew how she felt.

  It was as if Miss Elizabeth had been driven by some powerful force of nature. He had seen horses gallop at a more sedate speed than that which carried her down the stairs, practically on the heels of the apothecary as he left. She had been perfectly cordial and polite, but it had been impossible not to notice her eagerness to get out of the house. Her aunt, too, had acted strangely. He had come to know Mrs. Gardiner as a calm woman, but the woman who left that morning had been watchful and shrewish, almost like she was scrutinising him for some misdemeanour. He could not figure it out.

  “I thought the young lady was supposed to rest a while longer.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Hudson. That is what the apothecary recommended, though I’m not sure how much that mattered to her. You see, she is the most head-strong person I have ever encountered. The regent himself would not be able to compel her to cooperate if she did not wish to.”

  “She seemed good-humoured to me,” Mrs. Hudson said mildly.

  “Yes, I’m sure she did. It is strange how mildness and stubbornness can coexist together in one person.”

  “Well she is a fine young woman,” Mrs. Hudson mused.

  “That will be all,” Darcy said, suddenly unable to even talk about Miss Elizabeth any longer. “I must persist with these papers if I am to have any hope of leaving London tomorrow.”