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

by Diana Enright

  Lizzy nodded, biting her cheeks to try and stem the tears that had overwhelmed her as soon as she closed her bedroom door behind her. “I am fine, Aunt.”

  “You don’t look fine. Tell me what happened. Please.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. It was too painful; she could not put it into words just yet.

  “Please, Lizzy. I shall not tell a soul but you must tell me.” She squeezed Lizzy’s hands in hers. “Oh, I am sorry, my dear. You must believe me when I say I would never have left you two alone if I had known he would say something cruel. Why, I myself am shocked beyond belief. I thought he was a good man; quiet of course, but I would never have imagined he could treat a lady disrespectfully. Tell me, what was it he said to offend you so?”

  Lizzy shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Oh come now. You can confide in me. I shall not tell a soul. Though I tell you this: I shall never have a kind word for that man after this. I can promise you that!”

  “No!” Lizzy cried. She couldn’t bear the thought of her aunt being unnecessarily unkind to him, especially on her behalf. “He did not say anything unkind. He was lovely, in fact. There is not an unkind word I can utter against him.”

  Mrs. Gardiner stood and paced the small room. No doubt she was wondering if Lizzy had indeed injured herself when she fell on the cobblestones that day. Finally, she turned back to Lizzy with a look of utter confusion. “I must say, I do not understand at all. If he had been nothing but a gentleman, surely he would not have caused you to become so upset. Your eyes are red and sore-looking, my dear. Please, if you won’t tell me what went on, at least let me order up some soup for you.”

  Elizabeth sighed and lay back against the pillows. “He asked me to marry him,” she said at last.

  At this, Mrs. Gardiner emitted a strange sound that was part groan and part laugh. “Oh Lizzy! You wicked girl! How could you tease me like that? Oh, it is wonderful!”

  Lizzy sat up, tears streaming down her face again at the illusion her aunt had created. “How can you say that? How can you claim it is anything other than devastating?”

  “But Lizzy. I know how highly you regard him. Is it not a blessing to find out that he feels the same way towards you?”

  “It is a curse,” Elizabeth muttered, with a vehemence that shocked even her. “After everything that has happened. Don’t you see?”

  “Perhaps Darcy can help you find Lydia and put this matter to rest. He is a sensible man. No doubt he is a capable fellow with the connections to do so.”

  “Oh Aunt,” Elizabeth wailed through fresh tears. “Don’t you see? Yes, he is a sensible man. A clever, wonderful man. And you know what a clever, sensible man would do if he learnt the truth of my situation, don’t you?”

  Mrs. Gardiner said nothing. She shook her head. “You do not know that.”

  “But I do,” Lizzy said, nodding slowly. “I know him, you see. I like him very much but that does not prevent me from seeing the truth of the matter. Fitzwilliam Darcy is a proud, stubborn man. On the one hand, it fills my heart with happiness to know that he loves me, but I must be logical. I could not expect him to marry me once he learnt the truth about my family’s situation. He cares too much about society. Indeed, it would besmirch the reputation of his dear sister, Georgiana. He would never countenance that and I do not blame him for it.”

  “Lizzy—”

  “No,” Lizzy said. “It is true. We must not pretend otherwise for doing so will only injure me and prolong this pain. I do not blame Darcy for his ways. I turned down his proposal because I knew in my heart there was no way we would ever end up married. And the truth is I would rather I never see him again than cause Darcy to hate me for deceiving him. And I would have to deceive him: can you imagine? I love the man, but the only way I could marry him would be to lie to him and prevail on my entire family to deceive him too. It is unthinkable. Impossible.”

  “Perhaps,” Mrs. Gardiner said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Perhaps it is for the best. You may meet a gentleman you like even better when all this is over.”

  Lizzy nodded, but inside she disagreed. She had been such a fool, she realised now. She had tried and tried to remedy the situation, but what could she have done? She knew now that she would never have been able to lie to Darcy about her presence in town. There was no possible set of circumstances that might have resulted in their marriage, she was certain of that.

  Chapter 19

  Darcy left the house in Gracechurch-street in a daze. He had spent a lot of time reflecting on how such a proposal might work out in reality, but he had never once even considered that she might reject him so swiftly and decisively.

  He signalled to his footman that he desired to walk awhile. The thought of returning to his townhouse now was abhorrent, what with the presence of Miss Bingley, who would no doubt launch into some fresh tirade against Miss Bennet.

  “My reading of the situation was entirely inaccurate,” he muttered to himself as he strode to put as much distance between himself and that house as possible.

  “What’s that, sir?”

  Darcy hadn’t noticed the trader perched in the narrow mouth of a laneway between two houses. “Nothing. I was pondering something aloud.”

  “Something troubling, it seems,” the man winked. “Can I interest you in a mussel?”

  “No thank you.” Darcy marched on, in no mood to engage with anyone on any matter.

  Of course her reaction had been an unknown, but he realised now that he had never accounted for her turning him down. It was unthinkable. There she was in a state of crisis and she had still rejected his proposal of marriage.

  How she must loathe him!

  He walked on, telling himself to focus on other matters. But he could not.

  He had never proposed marriage to a woman before; had never even found someone whom he contemplated marrying. And now this! Why, she must thoroughly despise him. If that wasn’t true before, it certainly was now, for she would have no hope of ever marrying once word got out of the fate that had befallen her sister.

  She would prefer not to marry than to marry me, Darcy thought furiously, kicking a lump of coal that had fallen off a cart and landed on the street in front of him.

  It was not like him to lose his cool, but he could not help it. How could he have misread her? But then it was all there in front of him, he had just chosen not to pay any heed to it. She had been so eager to leave his home. He had justified it as a desire to resume her hunt for her sister, but perhaps that had been a convenient conclusion for him. She had always been cool towards him when they knew each other in Hertfordshire, but he fancied that there had been a sort of cordiality when they became reacquainted in London.

  “My goodness,” he muttered, his rapid pace bringing him to the river’s edge. He stared down into the murky brown waters dismayed. He had taken a moment to look inside himself and he did not like what he saw. “I was horrified when my dear Georgiana was so misled by that damnable Wickham, but I am no better! I allowed myself to think that Miss Elizabeth held me in high esteem when really she would rather face certain ruin than be wed to me. What a fool I am!”

  Darcy’s mood was somewhat restored when he re-entered the house in Mayfair. Thoughts of Miss Elizabeth still filled his mind, but she had scorned him so thoroughly that he was beginning to win the battle against his heart. An idea had struck him on the way home. He had no doubt that it was an impulse reaction to Miss Elizabeth’s rejection, but he could see there was a modicum of sense to it. He saw everything clearly now. After all, had he not, until the previous winter, always thought a wife was a necessary thing to ensure the continuation of one’s line? He had never before thought of marriage as something born of love and appreciation.

  Elizabeth Bennet had blindsided him; made him hope for love like some romantic fool of a poet.

  Well, no more. From now on, Darcy would make his decisions based on reason and logic, not on some foolish flight of fancy of the heart.

 
He would marry—and soon. After all, what place did love have in legacy and history? It was a source of distraction for fools, that’s what it was.

  Chapter 20

  Elizabeth Bennet stood as far away from the counter of the dingy tavern as she could while still being able to hear the soft-spoken words of the landlord. This was the fourth or fifth establishment they had visited that morning, and so far her sister’s trail remained as cold as it had ever since she arrived in London. Worse still, her father and uncle were not having better luck in St Giles. In fact, her father had declared his intention to leave London and return to Meryton. Elizabeth was aghast. Not only had he refused to believe Lydia was in Clerkenwell, leaving her aunt to stoop to the role of escort, he now planned to abandon the hunt altogether.

  Lizzy would not hear a word of it. She vowed to continue her hunt until such time as she found them. At this rate, though, she thought as she waited for the man to ponder her question, I shall spend my dotage in this city, alone and penniless.

  The thought of Jane kept her going, though. Lizzy herself could handle the adversity, but she doubted her elder sister could bear the reality of such disgrace. Indeed, Jane’s last letter referenced some thinly-veiled remark that Mrs. Thomas had made when Jane crossed paths with her in Meryton. It had been clear from her words that even good-hearted Jane had heard the malicious undertone and this was before the lovers had even been located!

  No, Lizzy thought. I will find Lydia and convince her to leave with me. We shall invent some excuse or other. For all people know, she was with my aunt and uncle this whole time, caring for their children while my aunt recovered from a cold. That’s it. And then maybe Mr. Darcy and I can…

  “No,” she muttered, shaking her head as if trying to shake any thought of him away.

  “What’s that, love?” the man said, tilting his head to one side and watching her as if she was the most curious creature he had ever seen.

  “Nothing,” she snapped, more irritated at her own lack of resolve than she was at this poor man. “I must leave.”

  “Wait,” he said in his soft, slow burr. “You know, I think I have seen someone like that. A young woman. Voluptuous.”

  Lizzy winced at his vulgarity. “If you must waste my time—”

  He appeared not to have heard her. He was smiling to himself as if proud of recalling something of relevance. “Yes, I remember remarking about it to myself. She doesn’t sound like the usual crowd you get around here. Well-bred, like, though she had the air of someone trying to sound common.”

  Elizabeth’s ears perked up. “That sounds like the girl we are searching for. Where can I find her?”

  He nodded, looking pleased with himself. “I’ve seen ‘er come and go from Bakewell’s. It’s down the street, second alleyway on yer left.”

  They stood outside the door. Lizzy gripped her aunt’s hand as she wondered what sort of filth she might find inside. She prepared herself to argue her case: Lydia had never entertained an idea unless there was novelty or sport in it and she would surely dismiss Lizzy’s pleas that they return to Longbourn at once. Lizzy even shuffled her foot as close to the door as she could, fearing Lydia might slam it closed in their faces when she discovered they had come for her.

  Oh, what a place it was. The musty smell hit them immediately and hardly any daylight penetrated the gloomy corridor. Lizzy realised that was probably a fortunate thing as she walked along looking for the room number she had been directed to. After all, the poor light probably hid even more dirt.

  Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she reached forward and knocked sharply on the door. A shuffling sound came from inside. They waited, scarcely daring to breathe as they waited for something to happen.

  “Perhaps that man was mistaken,” Lizzy whispered. “It may not even be her.”

  But she felt sure it was. Her palms were perspiring and if she relaxed her jaw, she found she could not stop her teeth from chattering together. The place was warm and stuffy, but her skin was cold and clammy. If there had been a looking glass in that terrible place—which there was not—she fancied the face that looked back at her would be white as a sheet.

  They heard a key scraping in the door. A second later, it began to open. Lizzy’s first instinct was to push all her weight against it, but she held off when she saw there was something blocking the door on the other side. That scuppered her plan to force her way inside.

  “Lizzy,” said a weak voice from inside the door.

  Lizzy’s eyes widened. She would have recognised that voice anywhere, even though it was quieter and humbler than usual. “Lydia! Yes, it is me. For heaven’s sake, please open the door!”

  The door closed again. For a moment, Lizzy thought that she had been tricked, but she heard a scraping sound and the door opened wide.

  “Oh, Lizzy!”

  To her surprise, her youngest sister threw herself at Lizzy and clung to her as if she had just narrowly escaped from a sinking ship. It was not hard to see why.

  The room was small and dingy. Even from outside the door, Lizzy could feel the bone-chilling damp despite the warm air outside. It was dark too. There was a window, but it appeared to have been boarded shut. A small bed was pushed against a wall and didn’t appear to have been made for days. Ragged clothes littered the ground and there were at least three bottles scattered about the place. Lizzy recognised them as gin bottles: her father kept a bottle in the cabinet in the dining room.

  For once, Elizabeth was speechless. It was eminently worse than she thought. All she could do was hold her sister, stroking her matted hair and whispering soothing words, while trying to ignore the stench. She may have been angry at her sister, but they were family and she had never seen anyone look so pitiful in all her life. Lydia actually looked like she fitted in in this area.

  Lizzy gathered her composure. She could see her sister was alone—there was nowhere to hide in the threadbare room. “Lydia, I must speak to you,” she said, pushing her sister into the squalid room and closing the door behind them.

  It was most alarming. She could see the fleas dancing on her sister’s skin and was horrified by the prospect that she herself might have become infested by them. What a place. If her mother could see this… she cleared her throat.

  “Lydia, it is okay. Not one of us blames you for what you’ve done. But I must implore you to come with us now. You have made a foolish mistake, but we shall come up with some tall tale to justify your absence. I’m sure there has been talk, but we will overcome this.” She stopped and looked at Lydia, expecting some sort of spirited objection. Instead, she saw that Lydia looked as young as her years. The girl was so pale and drawn that Lizzy couldn’t help but pity her.

  “Yes, Lizzy,” she whispered, seemingly too exhausted to cry though her face screwed up as if she was. “Please. I want to go home. That is all I want.”

  They sat on the filthy mattress because there was nowhere else for them to sit. Lizzy learnt that while Wickham had been kind and attentive to begin with, he had soon grown bored of Lydia. Now he spent most of his time gambling and carousing with all sorts of undesirables, leaving her alone in this sordid quarter. She was too afraid to venture out, for when she had, she had been set upon by thieves who had stolen her turquoise necklace.

  “Oh Lydia, of course. Let us get you out of here.”

  Lizzy stood to leave and looked to her aunt. To her surprise, Mrs. Gardiner did not look at all pleased despite their victory. Lizzy frowned.

  In response, Mrs. Gardiner pointed at the chamber pot, which was half obscured by a ratty chair. Lizzy shook her head, wondering why her aunt had highlighted such a foul sight. Mrs. Gardiner made no attempt to explain, but simply gestured to her stomach.

  She marched over to where Lydia slouched and stood over her, appearing uncharacteristically stern. “Have you been ill, Lydia?”

  Lydia looked up at her, wincing from the severity of her voice. She appeared entirely changed from the confident, brash young girl who ha
d irritated Lizzy to no end. Now, she had to admit, she missed the old Lydia.

  I am sure she will return to her old ways when we get back to Longbourn, she thought, eager to get away from that awful place and scrub her skin until it was red and raw.

  But Mrs. Gardiner seemed rooted to the spot. “Just today?”

  Lydia shook her head and sniffed. “No. I’ve been feeling rotten for days now. George does not care at all.” She burst into tears and huddled over, complete in her misery. “I have been sick more often than I have been well.”

  Lizzy bent to comfort her, but her aunt gripped her arm before she could think of a word to say.

  “Come, Lizzy. We must go.”

  “But…” Lizzy looked up, wondering why this sudden change had come over her aunt. Her calm eyes now blazed with anger. “Aunt?”

  It was only when they were outside the door that Mrs. Gardiner spoke again.

  “She is with child, Lizzy. It is too late. I hate to say it, but I do not wish to mislead you. It is too late. All is lost.”

  Chapter 21

  Lizzy’s mind raced as she worked to understand this new development. It was her nature to try and think up solutions when there appeared to be none, but on this matter she was stumped.

  “You are sure?”

  Mrs. Gardiner nodded. “I am afraid so. It is not oft spoken about, being rather of a personal nature and I am sure you are too young to remember the time of your younger sisters’ births, but it is a common malady. It is too early to tell for sure.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “But if the smell and the sight of that pot is anything to go by, she is suffering from the side-effects of being with child.”