Alone with Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation (13 page)

A short time later they were settled in
Darcy’s study, Richard gingerly sipping hot coffee. “So, you need my help. Is
it Georgiana?”

“No, not precisely.” Darcy drew the letter
out of a drawer in the writing desk and held it out to his cousin. “
She
is back.”

Richard’s brows flew up. “Not…”

“Yes.
Her
. She wants to see
Georgiana.”

“Absolutely not. Under no circumstances.”
Richard opened the letter and began to read it. He snorted at one point. “ ‘I
can understand you might hold the past against me.’ She is good at stating the
obvious.”

“She writes an excellent letter, and there
is nothing at all objectionable in it – except that
she
wrote it.”

“And that she is coming to London and
wishes to see Georgiana, which is
not
going to happen.”

“Even though Georgiana has asked to see
her?”

“What? You told Georgiana?”

“No, but she found out recently her mother
was alive, and asked me if she could meet her. I said no, but of course I had
no reason to think
she
had any interest in Georgiana. Now it turns out
she does, so perhaps we should allow them to meet. Carefully supervised, of
course.”

“What could possibly be the benefit?”

Darcy shrugged. “Relieving Georgiana’s
curiosity, I suppose.”

“At the expense of exposing her to
whatever ploy that woman has in mind? I think not. I know you hate to
disappoint your sister in any way, but this is not the time to give in to her.
What would your father say?”

He scuffed his boots on the rug. “I think
we both know the answer to that.”

“Well, then.” Richard folded the letter
and stuffed it in his pocket.

“What are you doing?” demanded Darcy.

“I think I should be the one to respond.
She cannot charm me, and I am Georgiana’s guardian as well. Yes, I know; you
are always the one to be in charge. But this once, you are not the right person
to handle this. I can be more direct with her.”

“I can be blunt as well.”

Richard crossed his arms and glared.

“Oh, very well,” said Darcy ungraciously.
“If you must.” He did not want Richard to guess how relieved he was not to have
to write to her. His hand would probably refuse to hold the pen.

“I will tell her she is not to come near
Georgiana, and should she come to London, I expect her to keep a good distance
from Darcy House or anywhere Georgiana is likely to go.”

“What makes you think she would listen to
you?”

Richard laughed dryly. “She is afraid of
my father.”

“Like everyone else.”

His cousin smiled. “Yes, like everyone
else. I might as well put it to use.”

“The question is
why
she is
suddenly so interested in Georgiana. I think I shall send Stanton to make some
inquiries. Perhaps he can discover what it she is really seeking from me.”

Richard snorted again. “Money. What else?
Most likely she had got herself into debt and hopes you will rescue her.”

“That could be. After my father’s death, I
discovered he had been paying her an allowance, a generous one, and he left
instructions I was to continue it unless she remarried. That was only a matter
of weeks, of course, just long enough to call the bans, so the question never
arose.” Her letter to the family solicitor informing him of her remarriage had
arrived a month to the day after his father’s death.  How odd that she had
bothered to inform him, since likely he would have never have found out and
would have kept paying the allowance, but her reasoning had always been a
mystery to him.

“Naturally. She would not have left
without a fuss unless he made it worth her while. Women are so mercenary.”

Not all women. Not Elizabeth Bennet, who
had refused to marry him despite his riches.

***

Elizabeth held out the dish of chicken
scraps. “It is food,” she coaxed. “You like food.”

Snowball’s furry white form emerged from
behind a bale of hay. With a dubious expression, she took the tiniest bite,
appeared to consider the matter, and then wolfed down the rest.

“Better than boiled turnip, is it not?”
Elizabeth stroked her soft fur, now well groomed and no longer matted. Snowball
rubbed against her hand and purred. “Well, I am happy to see you as well, but
we must decide what to do with you. Perhaps the people who live in the cottage
are wondering what happened to their little cat.” While she was growing
increasingly attached to Snowball and would be happy to have her continue to
live in the Longbourn stables, this question had been troubling her more each
day. But she was oddly reluctant to return to the cottage and to put faces to
the unknown owners. “I suppose there is nothing for it but to send someone to ask,
perhaps with a gift of dried venison.”

The cat washed her face delicately, then
bumped up against Elizabeth’s leg and circled around her.

“Yes, I know who you are looking for!”
said Elizabeth with a laugh. “Your favorite person is not here, I fear.”

No matter how much she might wish
otherwise.

***

“Lizzy! I declare, that girl will be the
death of me. Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet’s shrill voice echoed through the house.

In the stillroom, Elizabeth made a face at
Mary. “I wonder what I did this time,” she said with a laugh. She untied her
apron and hung it over a chair back. “Yes, mama, I am coming.” Had she been
seen receiving the letter from Mr. Stanton? She had best concoct an acceptable
explanation quickly.

In the sitting room, her mother reclined
on the fainting couch, fanning herself vigorously despite the chilly air. Her
sister, Mrs. Phillips, hovered over her. 

“There you are,” cried Mrs. Bennet, waving
a handkerchief through the air. “What do you say to
that
?”

Elizabeth glanced around the room, but
nothing seemed out of place. “To what are you referring?”

“Lord save me, to
this
!” Mrs.
Bennet shook the handkerchief once more.

“Your handkerchief?” Puzzled, Elizabeth
reached out to take it.

“Not
my
handkerchief, young lady!”

Indeed it was not her mother’s, nor hers,
for that matter. It was a man’s handkerchief using a finer linen than her
father employed, with a large stain in the middle. Then she saw the initials in
the corner and froze. It was
his
. She had pressed it against his
bleeding head.

“I see you recognize it! What do you have
to say for yourself now?”

Elizabeth wished she could clutch the
handkerchief to her, as if it contained the essence of Mr. Darcy. “It… It is a
man’s handkerchief. That is all I know. Where did you come by it?”

“I should think
you
could guess!
Oh, my poor nerves! How could you do this to me?”

Her aunt Phillips said, “Did you not ask
Nell to take a basket of food to the cottage where you took shelter during the
storm? They were bewildered to receive it, saying you had left a pile of silver
already, far more than they deserved.”

“A pile of
silver
!” interrupted
Mrs. Bennet, wiping her brow.

“And they gave Nell this handkerchief,
saying you must have left it behind,” Mrs. Phillips said triumphantly.

“Well, obviously they were mistaken, since
it is not mine.” Elizabeth’s heart started to race. If only Nell had thought to
bring the handkerchief directly to her instead! This was not a discussion to
have in front of her aunt, who was even more inclined to gossip than her
mother, and had less reason to protect her.

“Then someone else must have been with
you, for it was found
after
you stayed there. Oh, my nerves! Alone with
a man for three days! Lizzy, how could you do this to us? It would have been
better had you frozen to death alone in the snow!”

A charming sentiment indeed! “Someone must
have been confused. But wait, let me see that again.” She did not need to
examine the handkerchief, but she did need the time to collect her wits. “Oh, I
remember now! I found this by the side of the road and picked it up, planning
to return it to its owner later. But I forgot all about it in the storm, and
must have left it behind. All we need do is to find the gentleman it belongs
to.”

Mrs. Bennet frowned suspiciously, then
squinted to examine the handkerchief. “FD. I know no one with those initials,”
she said fretfully.

“Nor I.” Mrs. Phillips crossed her arms
over her chest.

Just then Mr. Bennet passed beside
Elizabeth and plucked the handkerchief from his wife’s hands. “It is obvious,”
he said dismissively. “Fitzwilliam Darcy. He was stranded here during the
storm. No point in returning it, though; I doubt he would notice its absence
among all his possessions. Now that is resolved, Lizzy, I require your
assistance in the library.”

This brisk behavior was so unlike her
father’s usual indifference that Elizabeth followed him without a word, leaving
her mother in mid-sentence of a new complaint.

Once the door of the library was closed,
Mr. Bennet sank into his favorite chair. “So, you met him on the road, did
you?” he said coolly.

Elizabeth’s shoulders tightened. “No, he
was stranded with me, but it seemed better if no one knew that.”

“Including your own father? Well, never
mind that. What did he do to you?” His voice was weary.

“Nothing. He was injured and confused
after a fall. I tended to his injury. You can still see the bloodstain on that
handkerchief.”

“Or was that a different sort of blood?”

Her cheeks grew hot. “Father! I give you
my word that the only blood came from Mr. Darcy’s head. He was injured, and I
have never been handsome enough to tempt him, as you know. Why would you think
anything had happened?” She pushed the memory of what Darcy had told her to the
back of her mind.

Her father looked down at his hands. “He
is a man unaccustomed to a lack of entertainment or to be denied anything he
wants, and in circumstances like that, men will often settle for what is
available.”

For some reason, his doubt infuriated her.
“Well, some men might, but this one did not. All he did was to keep the fire
lit so we did not freeze.”

His eyes narrowed. “And what did
you
do?”

“Tried to stay warm, talked to him, and
attempted to make soup. It was not a complete success, so it was fortunate we
were both very hungry and disinclined to turn up our noses at anything.” She
smiled, hoping to distract him with humor.

“Three days alone with a man, and you
expect me to believe
nothing
happened?”

“Do you think I would throw myself at an
injured man?”

 Bile rose in the back of her throat.
“He did not seem injured to me when I saw him in Meryton, when presumably he
had already walked several miles through the snow.”

“I could almost believe you
want
me
to say he compromised me!”

“Only if it is true.”

She huffed and looked up at the ceiling.
“Nothing happened between us beyond ordinary conversation.” The last thing she
wanted was for her father to confront Mr. Darcy.

He observed her closely for a minute, then
removed his spectacles and sighed. “Very well. I hope for your sake that no
word of this gets out.”

At least this time she could tell the
truth. “I hope so, too.”

Unfortunately, her hopes were in vain.

“I am so sorry, Miss Lizzy,” whispered
Nell as she took Elizabeth’s pelisse at the door.

So even the servants had already heard.
Elizabeth should have known Lydia and Kitty would tell everyone in earshot
about what had happened in town. But she had not been able to face the walk
home in their company, not after the mortifying way the townspeople had treated
her, so she had gone off on her own and taken the long way back, and her
sisters had returned to Longbourn first.

Her mother’s piercing wail came from the
sitting room. “He must be made to marry her!”

Elizabeth winced. “I will be in my room,”
she told Nell. “There is no need to tell anyone I have returned.”

“Yes, miss. Shall I bring you a cup of
tea?”

At least Nell was being kind to her, which
is more than she could say for her own sisters. Lydia had laughed at her
discomfort, and Kitty had not known where to look. She could not expect
sympathy from her mother. If only Jane were not far away in London! It was a
sad state when only the maid seemed concerned for her well-being. “That would
be most welcome.”

She tiptoed up the stairs, skipping the
third one from the top which always creaked loudly. A few more steps and she
would be safe. Once she had quietly closed the door behind her, she could let
down her guard.

Sinking down on the bed, she let loose the
tears she had been holding back for hours. Never before had she been the
subject of malicious whispers and comments, and she had not known how much it
would hurt to see people she had considered friends shunning her. And all of it
based on hearsay and the evidence of a handkerchief! Her stomach churned anew.

But crying would solve nothing. She rinsed
her face in the basin, then sat at the vanity, staring into the mirror at her
red-rimmed eyes.

What should she do? Ignoring the gossip
was not an option; her very presence would keep adding fuel to the fire.
Repeating her story about finding the handkerchief on the road might convince a
few people, but enough would still choose to believe the worst. She could leave
Meryton, but some might see that as a proof of her guilt.

Then there was the option that frightened
her most of all – writing to Mr. Darcy. She had never intended to act on
the option he had given her, but that was when she thought discovery, if it
ever occurred, could be laughed off.

There was no other choice. Half of the
townsfolk in Meryton had failed to meet her eyes, and she could hear the
whispers that followed her. No, she had no option but to write to him because
of the scandal. It was not
just
that she desperately wanted to see
him. 

But what should she say? She tapped the
end of the quill against her nose as she thought, then dipped the point in the
inkwell.

Dear Mr. Darcy,

As you may have surmised, I have a
powerful dislike of being proven wrong, but I try to balance it by openly
admitting my failings when they occur.  You were correct about the
consequences I would face, and I was incorrect. 

That much was simple, but how should she
proceed from there? ‘Pray come marry me as quickly as possible’ hardly seemed
the sort of thing one could say in a letter.

She was rescued from her dilemma by a
knock at the door. She slid the letter under a fresh sheet of paper before
opening the door. Her welcoming look faded when she realized it was not Nell
with the tea as she had expected, but her father, lines of worry etched between
his eyes. Wordlessly she held the door open for him.

He sighed deeply as he sat down beside her
bed. “Well, Lizzy, it seems your little escapade with Mr. Darcy has become
general knowledge. Your mother is demanding that I do something about it.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “There is no need.
Mr. Darcy told me he would marry me if anyone discovered I had been with him.”

Her father blinked. “He said he would
marry
you? You must have misunderstood him.”

Stung, she said, “I did not misunderstand.
He said it several times. All I need to do is to write to him, and I am certain
he will do what is right.”

He shook his head, then removed his
spectacles and began to polish them with his handkerchief. Finally he said
tiredly, “Lizzy, my dear, of
course
he said he would marry you. Why
would he not say that? If he told you he would
not
marry you, you might
have cried, or pleaded, or been angry with him, and he could not escape you
until the storm was over. So he said what he thought would keep you calm and
pleasant, knowing there were no witnesses and it would be his word against
yours if it ever came up.”

Could it be true? Her stomach roiled. “No,
that is not how it was. He offered to marry me regardless of discovery, and
kept bringing it up, even after I refused him.”

“You refused
Mr. Darcy
? That is my
brave Lizzy! But still, I assure you, he did not mean it. If he kept asking
you, it was only in the hope you would allow him liberties. Every gentleman
knows this trick. Men laugh about it all the time, how often they have done it
and how it is the best way to… well, to have their way. Believe me, I
know
.”

She looked hard at him. He
did
know. He might not be able to speak for Mr. Darcy, but he was telling her the
truth for himself.
He
had done it; told women he would marry them
without meaning a word of it, hoping only to take advantage of them. Certain
things suddenly began to make more sense to her. “Perhaps many men would, but I
believe Mr. Darcy meant what he said. I will write to him, and then we will
see.”

Her father snorted. “Do not be ridiculous!
If he were even to bother to read such a letter, he would laugh at it. Why
should such a proud, unpleasant man care about your reputation?”

She could hardly say it was because she
believed him to be honorable, not when it meant accusing her own father of
dishonor. “I think he will care.” Despite her best efforts, her voice shook a
little.

“Sometimes you can be as foolish as your
sisters! Very well, write your letter if you must, and I will send it for you,
but we will tell no one about it. It is one thing to provide sport for our
neighbors, but quite another to allow our family to become a laughingstock for
asking for the impossible.”

Her throat grew tight. “Then how am I to
convince everyone in Meryton that I am innocent? I cannot just ignore the
problem!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, of
course not. I have a different solution; I have already written to your uncle
Gardiner, asking him to permit you to join Jane in London. If you are not here,
the talk will fade soon enough.”

“If I leave, it will look as if I have
something to hide, and it will be even worse when I return!”

“You underestimate how short the memory of
fools can be. Your scandal will be forgotten as soon as the next one comes
along.” He must have been able to tell she did not believe him, for he added,
“As for anyone who might still care, such squeamish people who cannot bear to
be connected with a little absurdity are not worth a regret.”

She shook her head. “I doubt it is that
simple.” Her father only wanted the easiest possible way out of his dilemma
with her mother, not a solution to the problem, but why should she bother to
argue? Mr. Darcy would answer her letter, and on her next visit to Meryton, she
would be Mrs. Darcy.

He slapped his hands on his thighs, then
rose to his feet. “In any case, you will be off to London as soon as I receive
a reply from your uncle. I hope you will not have to stay there long; with both
you and Jane away, I shall not hear a word of sense from one week to the next.”

“Very well. I will go to London.” It was
probably for the best; it would be easier for Mr. Darcy to approach her there.

Her father kissed her cheek. “I knew you
were not quite as silly as your sisters.”

The jest which he had made so often now
rankled. “Indeed,” she said coolly, and closed the door behind him.

At least the problem of what to tell Mr.
Darcy was solved. She sat down again at her writing desk, and as soon as her
hand stopped trembling, she wrote:

Owing to the unpleasant nature of the
gossip, I will be leaving Meryton in the next few days to visit my aunt and
uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, who live on Gracechurch Street in London. It
would perhaps be best to communicate with me there rather than to have your
sudden appearance here create even more talk.

Most sincerely yours,

E.B.

Once the ink was dry, she folded and
sealed it, then wrote the address on the outside. When he had told her where he
lived, she had resolved not to remember it, but it had stayed with her
anyway. 

For the first time in weeks, a sense of
peace came over Elizabeth. It was done.

***

When Elizabeth presented her father with
her letter to Mr. Darcy, she asked, “Are you still willing to send it for me?”

He harrumphed and straightened his
spectacles. “In fact, I have decided to do better. I intend to deliver it to
him myself and await his answer. He will know I cannot fight him, but perhaps
it might shame him into doing what he ought. I doubt it, but your mother is
convinced it is worth attempting.”

“
You
are going to London?” It was
hard to convince her father to stir himself to go as far as Meryton. His
willingness to travel so far and actually speak to Mr. Darcy was so
uncharacteristic and showed such concern for her that Elizabeth’s anger toward
him abruptly melted away.

He curled his lip. “Yes,
I
am going
to London, fool that I am!”

She stepped around his desk and kissed his
cheek. “Thank you, papa. I think you will be pleased with his response, and I
am glad you will have the opportunity to become better acquainted.”

Mr. Bennet did not look convinced. “Well,
we shall see.”

***

Just before they climbed the steps to the
house of Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Mr. Bennet stopped Elizabeth with a hand on her
arm. “Remember, not a word to anyone of my business with Mr. Darcy.”

It was at least the fourth time he had
reminded her of this during their journey. “I do not see why they should not
know, but if you insist, I will say nothing.
Now
may we go in?” 

The warm reception Elizabeth received from
her aunt and uncle provided a much needed respite from the waves of disapproval
which had followed her as she waited for the stagecoach in Meryton. Even though
the Gardiners already knew about the scandal, the worry they might disapprove
of her persisted until she could see from their smiles it was not the case.
Jane’s embrace nearly brought her to tears.

The rough and tumble welcome from her
young cousins made for happy moments as well. Elizabeth was a favorite with the
Gardiner children owing to her willingness to join them in their games.

“That is quite enough,” admonished Mrs.
Gardiner. “Lizzy has had a long journey, and she will not be playing with you
tonight. Now, off to the nursery with you.”

This edict was met by some grumbling, but
after a little assistance from their nurse, the children managed to comply with
their mother’s instructions.

“Now, you must be in need of refreshments.
We have laid out some food in the sitting room for you.”

Elizabeth hung back to allow her father to
go first, and said quietly to her aunt, “You are not angry with me, then?”

Mrs. Gardiner put an affectionate arm
around her niece. “If I discovered you had left an injured man to die on the
roadside,
then
I should be cross with you. I fail to see how you could
have behaved differently, and if you say nothing untoward happened, then I
believe you.”

Somehow this statement of trust made
hiding anything more difficult. “I cannot say
nothing
happened. We had
to huddle together for warmth. There was very little firewood, you see.”

The corners of Mrs. Gardiner’s mouth
twitched. “Well, that is a very different story, since clearly it would be
much
better for you to freeze and have your family find both your dead bodies than
to do what was necessary to ensure your survival! Really, Lizzy, I cannot see
why you did not preserve every evidence of propriety even at the cost of your
own life.”

A giggle escaped Elizabeth. “I suppose
that would have been rather silly.”

Jane’s cheeks were pink. “No one blames
you, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth thanked her for the sentiment,
even though her sister’s blushes showed her discomfort with Elizabeth’s
actions. It was nothing to fret over, though. Soon enough Mr. Darcy would know
what had happened and they would be married. Even Jane’s delicate sensibilities
would be satisfied then.

***