What Would Mr. Darcy Do? (pemberley variations) Read online

  “I… actually, it is probably just as well that they know, and I certainly would not want them to have… the wrong impression of you. The Gardiners’ good opinion is important to me,” she said, struggling for the right words.

  “And your good opinion is important to me,” Darcy replied, gazing intently at Elizabeth. “I hope I have not harmed that today.”

  “Sir, I…” Elizabeth stopped. Why could she not complete a thought in a coherent manner when he looked at her like that? “Please understand that this is not a situation I have found myself in before, but… you need have no regrets.”

  Darcy’s eyes kindled, and Elizabeth forgot to breathe. Just then they heard Mr. Gardiner’s voice calling Elizabeth to the carriage. “It appears it is time for our adieus, Miss Bennet. Had we more time, there is much more I would wish to say. But, as it is”—he glanced out the door, and seeing no one there, he added softly—“be warned I made no promises to your uncle that it would never happen again.”

  “I shall keep that in mind, sir,” said Elizabeth demurely. “However, as you know, I am not easy to intimidate.”

  Darcy’s slow smile seemed to melt her bones. “I suppose that if you do not appear at the carriage very soon, they will probably come looking for you.”

  “I would imagine so, sir,” she said, feeling breathless.

  “But perhaps it is worth taking the chance.”

  “Perhaps so,” murmured Elizabeth, shocked at her own daring. Closing her eyes, she felt the touch of his hand on her cheek, then his lips brushed hers just long enough for her to realize that she never wanted him to stop.

  “Your carriage awaits, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy huskily. Elizabeth, unable to trust her voice, turned and headed for the door. Darcy followed her to the street, then handed her into the carriage. After a glance at Mr. Gardiner, he raised her hand to his lips for a moment before releasing it.

  “Good day, Mrs. Gardiner, Mr. Gardiner,” he said. “Good day, Miss Bennet.”

  * * *

  “I have been thinking it over again, Elizabeth,” said her uncle as they drove from the town, “and really, upon serious consideration, I am much more inclined than I was to judge this matter of Lydia as your eldest sister does. It appears to me so very unlikely, that any young man should form such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected or friendless, and who was actually staying in his colonel’s family, that I am strongly inclined to hope for the best. Could he expect that her friends would not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed again by the regiment, after such an affront to Colonel Forster? His temptation is not adequate to the risk.”

  “I wish I could believe it,” said Elizabeth. “But I do believe him capable of every form of neglect. He has been profligate in every sense of the word. He is as false and deceitful as he is insinuating.”

  “Upon my word,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “I am of your uncle’s opinion. It is really too great a violation of decency, honor, and interest, for him to be guilty of it. I cannot think so very ill of Wickham. Can you, yourself, Lizzy, so wholly give him up, as to believe him capable of it?”

  “I wish I could pretend that I do not believe him capable of it, but I know too much of him!”

  “I do believe it is time, Lizzy, for you to tell everything you do know about this situation,” her uncle said gravely. “It is clear there is a great deal you have kept from us, and it seems that we now need to know it.”

  Elizabeth flushed. “I know, and now it is obvious that I should have told the world, but at the time it seemed otherwise. Till I was in Kent, and saw so much of both Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the regiment was to leave Meryton in a week’s time. As that was the case, neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I thought it necessary to make the knowledge public; for what use could it apparently be to anyone? That such a consequence as this should ensue, you may easily believe was far enough from my thoughts. And, to my shame, I knew it would not be to my advantage to reveal all that I knew, for then I should have had to say more than I liked about my sources of information, and I considered it unwise to apprise my family of my interactions with Mr. Darcy.”

  “And that is another piece that I need to ask you to relate,” said her uncle. “I think you had better tell us the whole story of your Mr. Darcy.”

  Elizabeth would, in fact, much rather not have told this part, but she acknowledged her uncle’s right to question her about it after the events of the day. “He is not my Mr. Darcy, uncle.”

  “I think he might disagree with you there,” her uncle replied mildly. “But pray continue.”

  Elizabeth blushed furiously. Slowly, and not very fluently, she attempted to relate the events that had happened in Kent, skimming only over the worst of her verbal interchange with Mr. Darcy after his proposal. She did not want them to think ill of her for her bitter words, nor did she wish to alter their perception of Mr. Darcy from the pleasant gentleman he had been at Pemberley. She explained how she had gradually given up her former prejudices after reading his letter, and of her shock at seeing him in Derbyshire, as well as her present doubts about the wisdom of her continuing any acquaintance with him after Lydia’s shame and the involvement of Wickham.

  Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner exchanged glances. The distress in their niece’s voice clearly spoke of the struggle between her heart and her head on this subject. “Time will tell,” said Mr. Gardiner. “But I would ask you to keep in mind that Mr. Darcy is a young man in a good deal of pain over his feelings about you.”

  “What did he say to you?” Elizabeth cried.

  “I believe that should remain between him and me, Elizabeth. I only urge you to consider that, whether or not you return his affections, I believe that a certain degree of gentleness on your part would be in order.”

  Elizabeth made no reply to this, and in fact did not speak again for some time, and then only on a different subject. That she had injured Mr. Darcy with her harsh words she could easily believe, but to think about him in pain because of her hurt more than she cared to admit. And if the Gardiners noticed an occasional tear in her eye, they were wise enough to say nothing of it, but had they seen the handkerchief she clutched so tightly in her hand, they would have seen that the initials on it were not her own.

  Chapter 3

  They reached Longbourn by dinnertime of the next day. Elizabeth was very glad to see Jane, who greeted them with alternating smiles and tears, and perhaps even gladder the long trip was over, for it had left her far too much time to dwell not only on the painful subject of Lydia, but on her recent meetings with Mr. Darcy, which caused such feelings that it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the greatest share. Unaccustomed to struggling with such conflicting emotions, she was determined to keep her thoughts concealed, but all too often she had found the perceptive eyes of her aunt and uncle upon her, and she feared that they might be observing more of her struggle than she would choose.

  Jane had no news from London to report, but was able to impart to them all the details of Lydia’s flight and Mr. Bennet’s plans for discovering her. Mrs. Bennet had secluded herself in her rooms with greatly shaken spirits.

  In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be for half an hour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly availed herself of the opportunity of making many enquiries, which Jane was equally eager to satisfy. For her own part, however, she told very little of her travels and adventures, and nothing at all of Pemberley. Though she longed to unburden herself to her dearest Jane, she knew that it would only add to her sister’s distress. That night, as she was preparing for bed, she held Darcy’s handkerchief in her hand for a long while, thinking back on all her history with him. Then, with a firm resolve, she folded it and carefully tucked it away in the box which held his letter to her from Kent. I cannot allow myself to dwell on these thoughts, she told herself resolutely. Either I shall see him again someday or I shall not, an
d for now my family needs all my energy and affection.

  The whole party was in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him. His family knew him to be on all common occasions a most negligent and dilatory correspondent, but at such a time, they had hoped for exertion. They were forced to conclude that he had no pleasing intelligence to send, but even of that they would have been glad to be certain. Mr. Gardiner, having only waited for the post, set off for London, promising to write as soon as he knew anything.

  Mrs. Bennet, to the relief of her daughters, continued to be in seclusion; Mrs. Gardiner was most valuable in taking turns sitting with her.

  On the following afternoon, Elizabeth and her sisters were in the drawing room, working predominantly in silence, when the sound of hoofbeats in front of the house was heard. Kitty immediately rushed to the window—she was having difficulty enduring the restriction to home, and dearly wished to go to Meryton—and said loudly, “Now what is he doing here?”

  “Who is it, Kitty?” asked Elizabeth.

  “It’s Mr. Bingley!” Kitty cried.

  Jane dropped her sewing, the color draining from her face. “It cannot be!” But a moment later they heard his familiar voice greeting the servant at the door. Elizabeth quickly handed her sewing back to her, and by the time he was shown in, a semblance of calm had been restored.

  “Why, Mr. Bingley, what a surprise! I thought you still at Pemberley!” Elizabeth greeted him as he was shown in, covering for Jane’s confusion.

  “I was indeed, Miss Bennet, but some urgent business called me to Netherfield, and here I am!” His eyes drifted immediately to Jane.

  “You must have left Derbyshire soon after I did, then.”

  “Just a few days. I have only arrived here today.”

  Elizabeth risked a glance at Jane, whose face was still pale, but composed. What could it mean, that he had only just arrived and was already calling at Longbourn, without even the prerequisite call to Netherfield by Mr. Bennet? Surely it must be because of Jane!

  “I hope that the business which brings you here is not an unhappy one, Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth said.

  “Ah… Nothing serious, just some… matters of the estate. I… ah… have not truly had a chance to assess the situation yet. I have another task, you see—I was asked to deliver a letter to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, so I thought I had best call here as soon as possible.” This excuse might have been more credible had he not been gazing at Jane the entire time he was speaking.

  “A letter for me?” Elizabeth asked, looking far more calm than she felt regarding an unexpected letter from Pemberley so soon after her own departure.

  “From Miss Darcy,” said Bingley. “As soon as she heard I was departing for Hertfordshire, she at once decided she must write you.” He handed Elizabeth an envelope.

  Jane, still ignorant of Elizabeth’s encounters in Derbyshire, shot her a strange look.

  “How lovely. I thank you for the service, sir. You are far more prompt than the post, and more welcome,” Elizabeth said. “But, since you have already come so far, will you not stop with us for a bit of refreshment?”

  Bingley beamed. He looked at Jane, noticed the empty seat beside her, and it was decided.

  Estate business indeed, Elizabeth thought. Why is he really here? Darcy must have said something to him after their meeting at the inn. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of those moments with Darcy. How shocked Jane would be if she knew! She turned the letter over in her hands, wondering at its contents.

  It was fortunate that Jane had by now sufficiently recovered herself to be able to carry on the conversation with Mr. Bingley, since now it was Elizabeth’s turn to be distracted. Mr. Bingley’s smiles at Jane continued unabated until his departure, with many promises to meet again soon. As soon as he was gone, Elizabeth walked out to recover her spirits and to find privacy to read her letter.

  Dear Miss Bennet,

  I hope this letter finds you well, and I hope you do not mind my seizing the opportunity to write to you since Mr. Bingley is traveling to Hertfordshire. My brother had told me that I might write to you if I wished, but I was not sure of the direction, so Mr. Bingley is performing a very useful service!—I hope your sister is better, I was most concerned when my brother told me that she was ill and that you had to go home immediately.—We have been all astir here.—Immediately the day after you departed, Fitzwilliam received news from London and had to leave for there on an urgent basis. Then the very next day, Mr. Bingley announced that he had business that could not wait in Hertfordshire, and would be leaving on the following day, so our party is quite depleted!—I confess that I wondered briefly about this rash of urgent business, especially as I had not known Mr. Bingley to have received any word from Hertfordshire—but I must have been unaware of it. But I realized I had been foolish—had there been any conspiracy, I am sure it would have been my brother who would have gone to Hertfordshire, and Mr. Bingley to London!

  This situation has led me to some concern, though, and I hoped I might beg your advice on it. I hesitate to ask Fitzwilliam, since he would worry so, but I know that you would be the one he would want me to consult in his absence. I am sure my brother would expect me to solve this on my own—but I lack confidence in my solutions. Here is my concern—as you may know, my companion, Mrs. Annesley, has taken leave to visit her family during my stay at Pemberley, since I was to be with Fitzwilliam, but then of course he left, but Mr. Bingley is such a dear friend of his, and one I have known for years, that I felt all would be well. Now that he is leaving as well, but his family show no inclination toward going with him, nor returning to London, I have concern about being left the hostess here for Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley.—It is, of course, quite improper for me to entertain anyone since I am not out.—I know you will respect my confidence when I tell you that Miss Bingley makes me most uncertain of myself. She asks so many questions of me, and I sometimes do not know how to answer, especially when her questions are about Fitzwilliam—and I know that she asks the servants as well. And Mr. Hurst’s acquaintance with drink is something I do not know how to handle—how am I to behave?—But I also do not feel that I can ask them to leave. My brother said that he did not know when he would return, but that it might be several weeks. So any advice on what I should do would be most greatly appreciated!

  I must tell you how very much I enjoyed meeting you. You are everything Fitzwilliam led me to expect, and I look forward to having the chance to get to know you much better.—Please do write soon.

  Yours, etc.

  Georgiana Darcy

  It was well that Elizabeth had formed no expectations of the letter, as its contents were quite unforeseen, and excited a contrariety of emotions. That Bingley had no true business at Netherfield was hardly a surprise, though she was glad to have it confirmed. But it was clear Miss Darcy thought her relationship to Mr. Darcy was much closer than it in fact was. What had her brother been telling her, that Miss Darcy would approach Elizabeth so much as a family member? And had he spoken of her to his sister enough for her to have expectations, even before she came to Pemberley? Her thoughts whirled with all that Miss Darcy had let slip unknowingly.

  It was then necessary to fend off the inquisitiveness of her family regarding her letter. She chose to say only that Miss Darcy was a sweet girl, and that they had agreed to correspond after meeting briefly in Derbyshire, though this explanation drew questioning glances from Mrs. Gardiner.

  Elizabeth’s curiosity regarding Miss Darcy’s concerns would not rest; she resolved to write back to her that very same day, and was able to send her response with the next post. She was not overly surprised, then, to receive another letter as soon as could be expected, only a day after her father’s discouraged return from London.

  Mr. Bennet took the occasion of the arrival of Georgiana’s second letter to Elizabeth to tease her about her conquest of the Darcys. “Mr. Gardiner could not say enough good abo
ut Mr. Darcy while I was in London, though I certainly do not know what he could have seen in him. He went so far as to suggest that Mr. Darcy might be partial to you, Lizzy! But I assured him that he was imagining things, given your pointed dislike of the man and his perfect indifference to you.”

  Elizabeth, who was by this time tolerably well acquainted with her own feelings about Darcy, forced herself to smile. “Well, he does improve upon acquaintance. My uncle was no doubt struck by his condescension in allowing his sister to correspond with me.”—among other things, she added to herself. She blessed Mr. Gardiner’s discretion regarding the episode at the inn. She felt quite unready to discuss that with her family.

  Miss Darcy’s letter contained thanks for Elizabeth’s good advice; Georgiana had, as advised, spoken with Mrs. Reynolds about finding a woman of good repute in Lambton to be her temporary companion, and was much relieved by this. She reported that Mr. Darcy remained in London, and that Miss Bingley grew daily more vexed with his absence. There were no references this time to Mr. Darcy holding Elizabeth in special regard, a fact which caused Elizabeth more distress than she cared to admit. She wrote back a cheery note—far more cheery than she felt, given the circumstances—detailing life at home with her sisters and the visits of Mr. Bingley and his obvious partiality to Jane—though Elizabeth cautioned her not to breathe a word of that to Miss Bingley.

  The next day’s post brought a letter from Mr. Gardiner with the happy news that Lydia and Wickham had been found, and that preparations were underway for their wedding. The relief this brought to the household was great. The violence of Mrs. Bennet’s transports of joy was enough to make Elizabeth seek refuge in her own room, where she might think with freedom.

  Although she rejoiced at Lydia’s recovery from shame, Elizabeth found herself in an unusual lowness of spirits. Hard as it had been to bear the dread of Lydia’s infamy, it was the more difficult when she thought of her last meeting with Darcy. The more she considered it, the more she saw in Lydia’s elopement and marriage a probable end to her hopes. Although Darcy clearly had not given up all affection for her, Elizabeth’s vanity was insufficient to believe that he could overcome, for a woman who had already refused him, a sentiment so natural as abhorrence against any relationship with Wickham. Brother-in-law of Wickham! Every kind of pride must revolt from the connection. Even if he could tolerate it, how could he ever expose Georgiana to the possibility of Wickham as a relation? She could see no hope. As she began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man, who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her, she mourned that it was not to be.