One thing I love about this series is the devotion I get to write between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet! Can’t wait to start Book 5.
XOXOXO Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 4 - To Capture Mr. Darcy, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
November 18, 1811
Elizabeth woke in a bed quickly becoming too familiar. Full of half hope and half agony that a dry morning would greet her, she rolled off the bed on a clear mission to the drapes. The sky remained a stubborn gray and light rain fell; only observable from the small ripples each drop made in the puddles on the path below. Two days of heavy soaking followed by the current day’s refusal of dryness meant, at least, another full day at Mr. Bingley’s estate.
Remembering the previous evening’s musical concerts brought a smile to her face as she stretched and yawned. The gentlemen had applauded both sets of sisters as they had taken to the instrument three times, but it was Mr. Darcy’s admiration she had sought more than any other. And in this cause, Elizabeth felt light in her heart that she was finally making an impression on the man to his improvement.
Apparently no longer worth a maid’s assistance, Elizabeth did not tarry in her toilette, removing her hair from a braid and washing her face. At least the water in her basin was fresh, even if cold, so someone had come into her room in the early morning hours.
Elizabeth sighed at her paltry selection of gowns. Thankfully, her mother had sent a trunk for both her and Jane on their second day at the grand estate, but it was clear to Elizabeth her mother took greater care with her elder sister’s trunk than with her own. Two of the gowns were ready to be passed along to their maid at home as the hems were two inches too short and Elizabeth could not possibly wear them in polite company. Her only remaining frock for the day was a drab, brown calico that Elizabeth did not even possess a ribbon to enhance. Laughing at her own vanity, she pulled the disappointing gown from her trunk and smoothed the wrinkles as best as she could. Attired to the fullest extent of her abilities for the day, Elizabeth exited her lavishly decorated guest room to find how Jane fared on their sixth day away from home.
Two raps upon her door went unanswered. Elizabeth cautiously peeked inside to see if Jane were indisposed. Spying only an empty room, Elizabeth’s curiosity caused her to open the door wider and step inside.
“Jane?”
The pristinely made bed left little doubt Jane had left her bed. Elizabeth opened the small adjoining dressing room only to be met with more emptiness. Jane must be feeling remarkably well to have already dressed and joined the larger party downstairs.
Just as Elizabeth was turning to leave, she spied the books she had been reading to Jane sitting on a nightstand. With Jane feeling well, there would be no need for Elizabeth to read to her and trips to the library appeared to always hold such grand adventure. Elizabeth lifted the stack of books and revealed a folded letter underneath them. Not recognizing the piece of parchment as her own, she picked up the missive and flipped it open with a twitch of her fingers.
Dearest Jane,
I am sorry your stay in my home has only extended through suffering the most vicious cold, but your continued presence provides a balm to my aching soul. I pepper your sister with constant inquiries as to your health, for it is your bright smile I see over again in my mind. I patiently await your recovery and return to our happy talks…
Elizabeth’s eyes flicked to the bottom of the letter to find it signed by none other than Mr. Bingley! Gasping, Elizabeth refolded the letter, placed it back on the table, and tried to stack the books in the same manner in which they were when she first entered the room. The little green book on top fell, and she bent to pick it up, bumping her head against the table.
“Yeow!” she exclaimed, then covered her mouth and stood absolutely still lest anyone hear she was in her sister’s room alone. When no one came, Elizabeth moved carefully to right the book stack and rubbed her head until the sting of clumsiness subsided. The evidence of her chaste sister, Jane, flouting propriety by accepting a letter from Mr. Bingley confused her. Had Jane found private time with Mr. Bingley in a similar manner as Elizabeth had with Mr. Darcy? Were the two gentlemen working in concert to woo and seduce a pair of sisters so circumstantially within their clutches?
Elizabeth frowned. She wished she could call for their father, but sending such a message to Longbourn would be an acknowledgment of inappropriate behavior. And sadly, Elizabeth was not entirely confident her father would see the problem.
Mr. Bingley’s affection for her sister had appeared genuine when they first met at the assembly. Yet girlhood warnings regarding the nature of gentlemen and the responsibilities of young ladies involuntarily echoed in her mind. Elizabeth Bennet worried for not only her safety but now also that of her sister. It was of vital importance that as soon as the weather let up, they remove themselves at once and any continued courting occur within the expected constraints of society.
As Elizabeth stepped out of Jane’s room to find her sister elsewhere in the house, she now thanked her good fortune to have such a dull gown to diminish attention to her person. Let Miss Bingley’s flashy silk gowns of London and Paris attract Mr. Darcy’s eye.
Afternoon tea at Longbourn carried on in a dull, gray manner as the poor weather outdoors heavily affected the moods of the inhabitants indoors. Unable to escape for an errand or some other business, the only convenient time in which Mr. Bennet performed as an interested party in an estate he could not bequeath to his heirs, the entire Bennet family, save the eldest two daughters, engaged in a rare gathering. Kitty Bennet, the second to youngest daughter, enjoyed a childish game of subtly poking her young sister, Lydia, with the points of their sharp elbows. Despite the absence of Jane and Elizabeth, the Bennets sat at their prescribed chairs with no interest in upsetting tradition for such a silly reason as altered circumstances.
The middle daughter, Mary, sighed as she slowly watched the swirls of milk dissipate in her teacup.
“Must you sigh so loudly, Mary? My nerves can handle no more this day.” Mrs. Bennet worried incessantly about her own comforts above those around her.
“And whatever vexes you today, my dear? Has the unscheduled rain ruined your most careful social plans? I rather thought you were cheerful and encouraging that the rain go on for a week or more if it means your daughter be stuck at Netherfield.” Mr. Bennet’s acidic tone derived as a direct result of the continued loss of his favorite. To be holed up in a house with four women as the torrential storms beat down upon the structure was nigh on impossible under most circumstances but absolutely impossible without even so much as the comfort of his favorite daughter to play chess and hold lively discussions in his study.
Where his wife favored the sweet and docile Jane, Thomas Bennet cajoled and catered to the wild fiery nature of his Elizabeth. The proud papa found absolute delight in her contrary nature and had, on more than one occasion, fostered her disagreements with her mother for sport.
“I am not vexed by the continued rain, but by the impolite manners of your kin. Your cousin is now two days late. All my plans for dinners have had to be rearranged and reconsidered and it is a gross insult to this household.”
“But Mama, surely if Lizzie and Jane cannot come home, our cousin, Mr. Collins, must be delayed in his travels as well. We must pray for safer weather.”
“I still do not understand why his delay should be my inconvenience. He might send a note, a messenger, that we were to expect him on one day and that he will not be fulfilling such an arrival and further direction as to when we might expect him.” Mrs. Bennet continued her unreasonable expectations for a poor vicar to have the means of private messengers or funds to send an express. Her stubby middle finger and thumb pecked indifferently at the crumbs remaining on her plate from the piece of shortbread she had devoured.
“Perhaps he is gravely ill, come down with a fever from an attempt to valiantly traverse the dangerous London roads in this weather.” Lydia’s fanciful imagination offered a scenario best fit for a novelization.
“Or perhaps he was absconded by bandits. Those Highwaymen and gypsies that the papers talk about. I bet the next note we receive will be a demand for ransom!” Kitty met her younger sister’s imagination with a trumping of her own.
“I find these suppositions to be entirely without reason. And it is an abuse of our spirits to even utter such nonsense for fear the Almighty may confuse it for prayers,” Mary scolded.
“But he could be kidnapped by bandits, it is possible. I do not wish ill to befall the man.” Kitty chafed at the small taste of Mary sermonizing.
“I’m afraid you are assigning a great deal of interest and intrigue to my cousin who is most likely dull and boring if his letters are any indication as to his nature. He has come into a living of sorts at the behest of a great lady, but I should hardly think his purse heavy enough to entice the notice of gypsies and bandits.” Mr. Bennet settled the brewing disagreement between his daughters to head off any squabbling before it began. A father of five, preemption was worth more than a hundred pounds of cure.
“Illness or bandits, he is still very rude to not send word in his absence.” Mrs. Bennet reminded the table the entire conversation began with her complaint.
“And I am certain when Mr. Collins does arrive, by grace of the clouds, he shall effuse an abundance of charm that will more than compensate for his tardiness. Now if you ladies will excuse me, I have some business to attend to.” Mr. Bennet lifted his teacup and left for his study. As he expected, continued discussion about Mr. Collins reignited the disagreement between Mary and her younger sisters and no sooner had Thomas Bennet stepped out of the dining room and into his study than a great squawking of female voices filled the air. Leaving the girls to their mother, Mr. Bennet picked up the volume of Chaucer he had been reading before and continued where he left off.
The familiar drawing room of Netherfield Park appeared starkly different upon first entrance. The creams and greens of the furniture were banished mostly to the far wall and a number of tables were aligned with extravagant candelabras offering a romantic glow. Elizabeth furrowed her brows as she spotted Mr. Bingley and her sister Jane engaged in a private conversation by the fireplace when Miss Bingley linked her arm inside Elizabeth’s, startling her as the woman began to pull Elizabeth in the opposite direction.
Chapter 4 (cont'd) - To Capture Mr. Darcy, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
“Miss Eliza, you are just in time. I have convinced Mr. Darcy to sit as our subject and wondered if you would join me for an afternoon of sketching.”
Caroline Bingley led Elizabeth to an elaborate display of two canvases with an array of charcoal pencils and watercolors situated between them. Mr. Darcy indeed lounged in the armchair just beyond with a copy of Don Quixote in his hands. Elizabeth smirked at the gentleman’s cheeky movement to blink twice at her before turning a page of the thick tome.
“I am afraid drawing has never been one of my favorite hobbies and my efforts at capturing Mr. Darcy’s likeness will be laughable in the extreme.”
Caroline laughed and patted Elizabeth’s arm in a patronizing fashion. “We are all friends here. You need not worry about the quality of your creation. Think of it as an afternoon folly at the impolite request of your hostess.”
“Miss Bingley, I do not offer false humility when I say I cannot draw well. It is a skill I have little aptitude for.”
Caroline sighed with a slightly spitting end of full exasperation. “There are no professional portraitists present. My skills are of a rudimentary sort only honed by my time at school. I assure you, it has been many a year since I have thought to capture a landscape or still life in my free time. But as nature has limited our opportunities for diversion, I implore you to indulge me in this little activity of ours.”
“And what say you, Mr. Darcy?”
“Hmm?” Darcy continued to appear quite focused on his book.
Elizabeth pinned her free hand to her hip as she just knew the man was toying with them both. “Are you not the least bit nervous for two ladies to sketch your likeness for an afternoon, to sit in one attitude should be frightfully boring.” Elizabeth attempted to enlist Mr. Darcy as an ally in removing her obligation to humor Ms. Bingley.
“Not at all. I should have enjoyed the afternoon reading this novel and see very little intrusion on my plans by offering you and Miss Bingley my stoic posture for your own amusement.”
“Even Atlas would find holding such a book for over an hour a taxing endeavor.” Elizabeth observed.
Caroline Bingley handed Elizabeth a perfectly sharpened pencil and chastised her for stalling. “Then we should get to work. Since your skills are below mine, I shall start by demonstrating the proper technique to capture your subject’s outline.” Caroline began a squiggly line with questionable proportions to start a profile of Mr. Darcy’s forehead, nose, and lips. As Elizabeth watched Caroline’s work, she could not help spending less time inspecting Miss Bingley’s work and more time considering the sultry and handsome features of their subject matter. Caroline continued to speak about the varied steps and techniques she had learned from Masters in London and at school, but Elizabeth said little as she concentrated her efforts on producing the best Mr. Darcy she could in a two-dimensional form.
Elizabeth concentrated so deeply on the small nuances of Mr. Darcy’s face, a loud tinkling of Jane’s laughter served as the only reminder she was not alone in the room with Mr. Darcy, but in fact part of a group of five. As she considered the eyes of her canvas and gazed up for a better estimation of Mr. Darcy’s actual features, the man’s gaze met her own. If they had been able to discuss the entire ordeal of the posing and sketching, his eyes conveyed the truth of the matter had little to do with humoring Miss Bingley, but everything to do with an uninhibited excuse to stare at Miss Elizabeth.
For her part, Caroline Bingley recognized the silent tête-à-tête between her adversary and her aim, and she interjected her wishes to put a stop to it. “Yoo-hoo, Mr. Darcy? Kindly cast your gaze this way. There is a veritable spark in your eye, sir, I am most anxious to capture.”
Darcy coughed and blinked profusely before turning in Caroline’s direction with a frown on his face.
Elizabeth shook herself as she realized just how desperately sentimental her feelings were becoming, all on the same day she had vowed to make sure she and Jane left this house with their hearts guarded! No longer caring about the subject or the challenge, Elizabeth held back her own laughter as she completed her portrait of Mr. Darcy with Don Quixote in the similar manner of a young child.
Deciding she was through with the painting adventure, Elizabeth put her brush down and drifted over to Mr. Bingley and Jane. The two were sitting across from one another and Jane leaned forward to match Mr. Bingley’s position in his chair. As she neared, she heard a bit of conversation that worried her.
“I have never kept a secret from . . .” Jane’s face slackened to one of indifference as she spotted Elizabeth standing ever so close to her chair.
“Mr. Bingley, your home is so lovely and well attended. When the Kemps held Netherfield, they say there were such beautiful balls and gatherings. . .” Elizabeth glanced above at the impeccably painted high ceilings and intricate moldings along the edges.
“Well, let that put a rest to it! Your sister and I were just discussing holding a ball in seven night’s time though it was to be a secret until after you returned home.” Mr. Bingley’s eyes squinted in mirth with his confession.
“Mr. Bingley,” Jane chastised as he reached forward to place a kiss on her hand. Jane craned her neck to look up at her sister, “He did not wish for Caroline to enlist our aid in planning such a fete though I did offer we would be happy to help.”
“Of course, we would . . .” Elizabeth trailed off as her eyes caught movement in the other corner of the room. Mr. Darcy was now standing and stretching from his pose and Elizabeth realized if she did not return to the canvases, then Caroline or Mr. Darcy or both would come and intrude on Jane and her beau. “Excuse me, I appear to be needed for the judging.”
“Judging?” Jane asked but with no real interest. As soon as Elizabeth walked away, she smiled and laughed again at something Mr. Bingley said and did not pursue her sister across the room.
A smug look of satisfaction filled Caroline Bingley’s face and Elizabeth remembered now how she had thrown the competition to be done with such folly. Mr. Darcy was waiting patiently on the other side of the canvases for permission to join them.
“She’s here. Now you can see for yourself the fruits of our labors and declare which painting best captures your essence, Mr. Darcy.” Caroline’s voice positively sang the sentence as Elizabeth snorted quietly and held her laughter at bay with tightly pressed lips.
Fitzwilliam Darcy’s experience in sitting for portraits stretched back to when he was a babe and repeated no less than every three years after. To sit for a simple sketch involved a far less aggravating spell though tiring all the same. He looked to Caroline’s canvas and found an undeveloped offering, completed though in all of the main areas, with his nose slightly crooked, his chin muddled, and the proportions of his shoulders much too large in comparison to his head.
“That is a very admirable piece of art, Miss Bingley. I am flattered by your use of color to contrast the book to my skin tone.”
Caroline beamed at such high praise as Mr. Darcy turned to the utter mess that was Elizabeth’s painting.
The eyes were impeccably drawn, a more accurate portrayal not possible unless he punched holes in the painting and stood behind it. The rest however, a haphazard display of lines and washes of color, was hardly the study of a serious artist. Something appeared to have happened halfway through and despite her claims to the contrary, Miss Elizabeth held a very natural talent for drawing she apparently wished to conceal.
Darcy looked behind him at the lady who drew the masterpiece of a mess to read her expression, but the woman gawked back at him, daring him to make a choice. Either he would be honest or lie, a gambit the two enjoyed throwing at one another’s feet at every turn.
“The eyes are impeccably captured, but I am afraid your fatigue shows through the rest of the painting.”
“I did grow extraordinarily tired part way through the exercise, but find myself much revived now the ordeal is over.” Elizabeth teased Mr. Darcy just the same even though the man did impress her with his willingness to be fair, but kind, regarding her painting.
“So which effort did you enjoy best? Which of us is most accomplished?” Caroline Bingley whined as she took off the apron she had been wearing to protect her clothing from the watercolors.
Darcy and Elizabeth looked at one another, briefly, stunned that Miss Bingley would act like such a child.
“I think both paintings show that only multiple sessions or a much lengthier session than I am able to provide, would offer the opportunity for a perfect likeness. While I find the one detail in Miss Elizabeth’s painting to be superb, your painting, Miss Bingley, did capture the overall subject.” When Darcy finished, Caroline looked at the two of them expectantly, and both Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet offered their hostess a mild round of applause.
Caroline preened and batted her eyelashes at Mr. Darcy for what she decided was the proclamation of herself as the winner. “I should be happy to sign the portrait and give it to you to keep, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy cleared his throat and shifted his weight between his feet. A small hand rested on his arm with a gentle, caring touch and not the vice-like grip of Miss Bingley to gain his attention.
“We both shall sign and gift our paintings to him. Offer him this souvenir of an afternoon’s folly!” Elizabeth laughed at her painting, it truly was horrendous in the styling, but a visual representation of her frustration.
As both ladies committed their names to the bottom right corners, Darcy’s face lit with an idea.
“I wonder if you two artistic ladies would join me on a short jaunt in the main halls? There is an inordinate amount of artwork hanging throughout the house and since we are stuck inside, I find the inclusion of stretching my legs to be another inducement.”
Caroline did not need to be asked twice to join Mr. Darcy on a walk, but Elizabeth hesitated. The temptation to stretch her legs seemed insurmountable as her pent-up energies from three days of rain were snarling inside of her like a caged tiger at a menagerie. But to leave Jane and Charles? The thought appeared to translate to Mr. Darcy as he followed her gaze to the happy couple sitting by the fire.
“We could invite Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet, but do you think a walk would tax Miss Bennet’s strength?” Mr. Darcy asked.
Elizabeth nodded her head. “Today is the first day she has been out of bed the whole time, let’s not disturb them but leave the doors open.”
“But, of course,” Mr. Darcy bowed as Elizabeth walked past him towards the double doors out of the drawing room. Anticipating Miss Bingley taking his arm, Darcy bent his elbow slightly and indeed, the lady attached herself forthwith.
NEW RELEASE
For the Love of a Bennet
What if Elizabeth Bennet traveled with Lydia to Brighton?
A reimagining of Jane Austen’s most beloved tale, Pride & Prejudice, join author Elizabeth Ann West as she writes the romantic adventure story she always wanted! When Lizzy and Lydia arrive in Brighton, it’s very clear that the younger Bennet sister came with very serious plans towards Mr. Wickham. Thankfully, an old ally is also in town, with problems of his own to solve. After Mr. Darcy, himself, is summoned to Brighton to hopefully solve two dilemmas with one wealthy member of the gentry, the whole militia is thrown into an uproar by Wickham’s most dastardly deed, yet. Together, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy have to save Lydia from her own undoing, or it will mean more than just mere reputations are ruined.
For the Love of a Bennet is a novel length story, currently being posted chapter by chapter on Elizabeth’s author site. This story was originally conceptualized in 2019 as a part of the All Go to Brighton challenge.
Chapter 4 (cont'd) - To Capture Mr. Darcy, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
The halls of Netherfield Park held six generations of art carefully collected by the Kemp family. The scandalous death of Lord Kemp occurred when Jane and Elizabeth were but young children, and while the debts of Lord Kemp were long since paid, Lady Kemp, never blessed with children of her own, preferred to live in town on her meager portion. Mr. Jonathan Gilmartin, Lord Kemp’s eldest son from his first marriage, did not have a title to inherit and saw no need to leave his businesses in London to play the part of a disgraced eldest son of a once great family.
That Mr. Gilmartin, as he was now fashioned, saw Netherfield Park, the only property to survive the ancient family’s downfall, as little more than an investment property, worked in Mr. Bingley’s favor. Gilmartin’s agent, Mr. Phillips, had been instructed to take a keen interest in selling the land and house by parcel or whole lot. A fancy gentleman from London seeking to lease before purchasing seemed the perfect tenant for the property, despite it being so close to harvest when the property let.
As Caroline Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and Elizabeth Bennet briskly walked the halls of Netherfield to admire the many works of art, a subtle discordance brewed between the two ladies. As one viewed the artwork as her family’s future possessions, Miss Bingley’s comments were of a critical attitude as opposed to Miss Elizabeth’s perspective of respecting the heritage of her home country.
As the group came upon a heavily dated portrait of a woman in a gilded frame and boxy, Tudor styled gown, Miss Bingley sneered at the ancient likeness. “I could never imagine wearing such a frilly collar and decadent brocades. Why the weight of the fabrics alone would tax even a woman as hale as Miss Eliza.”
Elizabeth leaned closer to the painting to read the small inscribed name of the subject on a gold plate affixed to the frame: Mary Bennet Gilmartin. Elizabeth laughed.
“It would appear it is one of my ancestors to disappoint you, Miss Bingley. May I present my excessively great-aunt Mary Bennet Gilmartin, the second Lady Kemp.”
“Your family is connected to this estate? I never would have guessed.” Miss Bingley scoffed again at what she perceived to be her rival’s lowly connection.
Elizabeth sighed, taxed in biting back a sarcastic rejoinder. “My family has lived on the land here for over ten generations. It is only fitting that where the Bennets have held Longbourn since the time of Henry VIII, that the Gilmartins were similarly situated on their lands.”
“Yes, but I am to understand the Bennet name will also soon lose their seat in the county. Such a pity for the county to bear the loss of two great families in one lifetime.” Miss Bingley offered a false statement of sympathy.
As the threesome proceeded down the hall to leave Mrs. Mary Gilmartin behind, Mr. Darcy offered his opinion on the matter.
“It is unfortunate that the laws of property preserve the land at the expense of those who love and care for it.”
Elizabeth tilted her head and turned towards Mr. Darcy to see if there appeared a look of sincerity on his face to match his words. To her surprise, he was not mocking her. Still, she could not help but needle him further about his opinion that flew in defiance of her expectations. “I should think most men of your stature would celebrate the custom of entailment. The contract keeps an estate together in one piece for the continued prosperity of those who dwell on it. That the family residing in the great house should change out is of little matter to the tenants and the farmers who work from sunup to sundown for a meager existence.”
“I am afraid you are mistaken in my position, Miss Elizabeth.” The way he spoke her name with such tenderness still unnerved her. “The stewardship of an estate as large as Netherfield Park, or even of your father’s, is a significant matter for the pleasant existence of those who dwell on the land, as you put it. A tenant farmer would most enjoy a diligent master who was both fair and industrious. Few are groomed for such a role without a start at birth.”
Darcy’s words embarrassed Elizabeth, and her cheeks tinged pink. A flight of fancy in her mind wondered if Mr. Darcy was criticizing her father’s lackadaisical stewardship, but the most sensible part of her wits reminded her he was but a stranger in a strange land. While Miss Bingley might have diligently collected gossip on every major family in the area in just a few week’s time, it was not a necessity for Mr. Darcy in his daily business. Still, for the very knowledge of her father’s lack of leadership, Elizabeth felt ashamed. That a cousin of hers would inherit her family’s holdings was painful, but it was not the most illustrious parcel in the county.
Discussions of land management ceased as the three strollers came upon a petitely painted landscape that was in contrast to the monstrous portraits they had seen so far. Elizabeth gasped at the prospect captured in what appeared to be the glory of dawn’s light cascading over the verdant fields of Hertfordshire.
“It appears this artwork pleases you, Miss Elizabeth. Is it the subject or the skill of the artist that has captured your attention?” Mr. Darcy’s warm question caused Elizabeth to forget Miss Bingley had joined them on this inspection of the art at Netherfield.
A smile crept across Elizabeth’s face and the gloom and doom of the last three days of rain melted from her memory. “This view is from the top of Oakham Mount, my favorite destination for on morning jaunts. There is a stone just out of view over here,” she pointed with her hand to a place that was beyond the painting’s frame. “And it is one of my greatest pleasures to sit and take in the Lord’s bounty and beauty as it rolls over the gentle hills and fields before me. I feel quite small . . .” Elizabeth caught her breath when she realized such a personal confession had escaped her lips. “When I sit there, I enjoy the reminder that as we are here for but a short time, the rocks and hills and trees endure.” She attempted to minimize her personal attachment to the painting by inspecting the length of the hall they still needed to cover.
“I had no idea you were such a philosopher, Miss Eliza. Why you should commit your thoughts to paper when you go to your little mountain. I am sure all of London would be most eager for the musings of a gently bred lady from the countryside.” Caroline attempted another swipe at her guest, one that would fit in beautifully in the ballrooms of London, but only earned a stern look from Mr. Darcy on a royal blue carpeted hallway a few miles from a small market town.
“What I mean to say is your hillside offers a novel perspective on the world. I could see many of my friends enjoying the spectacular descriptions you might offer.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips and arched her eyebrow. She was not fooled by Miss Bingley’s haphazard revision of her words, the insult that Elizabeth might need some employment came up all too often, becoming a pattern. Just that morning, Miss Bingley had mused about the hypotheticals a young widow and unmarried daughters might find themselves facing should the patriarch pass. Charles had asked Caroline to change the subject, and the harpy from London’s fast set attempted to play it off that she had been worried for her own welfare, should anything happen to Charles as her protector.
“It is fortune enough for me to share my observations with my close friends and family. The world proper must suffer their exclusion as best as it may muster.”
Mr. Darcy coughed at the sharp, yet simple, set down Elizabeth offered to Caroline, and they were soon further on their way down the hall when Miss Elizabeth halted their progress.
“Forgive me, but I am worried the hour is growing late. Ought we not turn back, see to Jane and Mr. Bingley, and begin preparations for dinner?” Elizabeth twisted her mouth back and forth in a wistful manner, happy she had found a way to stop this charade of a stroll but unhappy once again she was insulting Miss Bingley’s household management skills.
“If you are fatigued, Miss Eliza, I am certain Mr. Darcy and I may continue alone–”
“I have just remembered I was to write a very important letter to my solicitor in London. Forgive me, Miss Bingley . . .” Mr. Darcy bowed low, echoing the words used by Miss Elizabeth, “but if we could return to the drawing room, I should like to take advantage of the better lighting before the sun retires for the day.”
“Yes, yes, we must return at once. We may inspect the creative offerings of the home at another time.” Miss Bingley snaked her arm once more in Mr. Darcy’s. While the great man paused for a moment for Elizabeth to take his other arm, she remained defiantly unattached.
Watching her slippered feet peek from beneath her drab, brown hem, Elizabeth Bennet counted her steps and her breaths in an alternating pattern. She disliked how quickly her anger rose around Miss Bingley and how often she caught herself competing for Mr. Darcy’s good opinion. If only the rain would stop, she just might walk all the way home as quickly as she was able!
You’ve been reading To Capture Mr. Darcy
Nature’s a fickle thing. When four days of rain occur earlier in Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice to trap Jane and Elizabeth Bennet at Netherfield Park, new romances, misunderstandings, and alignments are made. Volatile tempers never did well cooped up together. Not even when there’s a chessboard to help pass the time.
Fall in love with the romance of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet all over again in this new variation by author Elizabeth Ann West. A stand-alone novel of over 300 pages in paperback, this story is sure to make you sigh and swoon many times over!
To Capture Mr. Darcy a Pride and Prejudice novel variation series
Release Date: April 28, 2016
334 pages in print.
+ 23 additional Pride & Prejudice variations are available at these fine retailers . . .
A Jane-of-all-trades, mistress to none! Elizabeth Ann West is the author of 8 novels and 11 novellas, 18 of which are story variations of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.