This is the book that was never planned in this series… but when I sat down to write what I wanted Book 3 of the series to be, Elizabeth Bennet had other plans . . .
XOXOXO Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 37 - The Whisky Wedding, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
THE FIRST MEAL of the day at Darcy House in London practically began at noon courtesy of the previous night’s adventures for most of the residents. Even Georgiana, who did not go on the midnight ride to rescue Miss Lydia, did not sleep until all were home safe and as Richard Fitzwilliam predicted, forgave Jane for losing her cloak.
Jane pursed her lips and absent-mindedly counted the petals on a rose in the table’s centerpiece instead of eating the food in front of her. Lydia had shared her bed, but the arrangement yielded fitful hours of nothing resembling restful sleep. Lydia tossed and turned and flailed about when she slept, not allowing Jane a moment of solid rest. Sitting slumped in the well-upholstered chair in Mr. Darcy’s dining room, Jane’s bones and muscles felt wobbly from the toll of stress and lack of respite.
Richard Fitzwilliam entered in his regimentals with no sign of fatigue anywhere on his face.
“Miss Bennet, I was hoping to find you alone.”
In another circumstance, those words would have raised the hopes of many a lady. But Jane thought nothing more about it. Richard continued as she had no comment.
“I have received an express from my cousin and your sister and he did not leave Scotland as they originally planned. Though this must have become lost, as it is nearly five days old from the date . . . ” Richard frowned at the letter in his hand, making a mental note to interview the rider.
“You mean to say they have not begun their journey?”
Richard clasped his hands behind his back and gave her a grim frown of disappointment. “There appears to have been complications from her injuries–”
“What injuries!” Jane frowned as her outburst annoyed even her. She swallowed and tried again. “Please explain? How is Elizabeth hurt?”
“When she left your aunt there was a carriage accident with the post chaise. She survived, as did the footman with her, but it was not until two days later when she began to lose her memory that Darcy realized she was very grievously injured.”
“No one said a word about a carriage accident, did my father know?”
Richard opened his mouth and closed it dramatically in chagrin.
“Unbelievable!” her voice rose two octaves in honest surprise. “He could not have,” she declared. Then wincing, second guessed herself. “He did?”
Richard held up his hands in a mock surrender. “I was not privy to the letter Darcy wrote your father. My first letter from him did mention the accident.”
“Then why did you not tell me this days ago? I thought we had an accord between us in regards to information.” Jane crossed her arms in front of her chest, still kind in her tone, but unable to completely hide her pique.
Richard walked forward and pulled out the chair at the head of the table, next to Jane. “I was not aware you did not know about the accident. I thought Darcy would have told your father and in turn, he would have appraised you of the details.”
Jane looked down once more at her plate of food, the mocking orbs of color and textures blurring before her eyes. She blinked back tears as Richard handed her a serviette.
“Lizzie is hurt? Would you . . .” Jane paused as she looked intently at Richard. “May I read your cousin’s letter?”
Richard pressed his mouth into a thin line as he tried to recall if the letter contained any sensitive material, but could remember nothing out of the ordinary.
“Certainly, his words might reassure you in a way this old soldier cannot.”
Absently, Jane accepted the express from Richard and answered him, preoccupied with opening the missive. “You have given me many reassurances, Colonel.”
Jane missed Richard’s look of shock at her compliment, one so freely given without arts or devices on his purse or an introduction to his elder brother or cousin.
Richard was just about to thank Jane when the butler entered the dining room, soon followed by a visitor.
“Mr. Charles Bingley, sir.”
Charles entered the dining room with the face of an energetic puppy that melted away at Jane Bennet’s scowl.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet, Colonel.” He bowed and then with a bewildered gaze noticed the rest of the room remained empty. “Where are Mr. and Mrs. Darcy? I thought they were to arrive today.”
“Delayed.” Richard tersely answered Bingley as the man refused to stop staring at Jane.
“Oh, that is unfortunate, terribly unfortunate. Nothing serious, I hope?” Mr. Bingley addressed his question to Jane, who still held the express in her hands that gave a most serious reason.
A terrible liar, Jane gaped as she tried to think of an answer, but Richard saved her once more.
“Come on Bingley, Darcy is a married man! Who could blame him for an extra day or two with his new wife, no matter what silly justification he gives for a delay. My pardons Miss Bennet, I do not mean to speak crassly about your sister.”
“On the contrary, Colonel, I am aware that my sister’s feelings for Mr. Darcy are very deep and have been with her since Kent. She, too, may have wished to delay for more time, as you say, with her husband.” Jane nearly spat out the last word, her eyes slanted at Mr. Bingley.
Richard witnessed a slight indentation along her jawline, a sure sign the lady clenched her teeth with great force. Ever a perceptive interrogator and studier of people, Richard realized Mr. Bingley made Jane uncomfortable. And he could not blame her, now knowing the caliber of woman the buffoon gave up on the complaints of his sister and concerns of a friend. Charles Bingley did not deserve Jane Bennet.
“Since Darcy is not here, perhaps you have other business?” Richard rose from the table.
“I would be happy to visit with Darcy’s nearest relation. Perhaps visit with you, too, Miss Bennet?” Charles again looked hopefully at the woman he once called his angel.
“I cannot, that is, I am afraid —” Jane could not think of a lie and hated herself for it. How did other ladies so easily give misdirection?
“Miss Bennet here is too kind to say she has a previous engagement and I have to report to the barracks today. A condition of my leave.”
“Oh, and what exciting adventures do you have planned Miss Bennet?” Charles would not give up as Miss Bennet also rose and they were now slowly escorting Mr. Bingley towards the front parlor and the entryway beyond.
“Shopping. I am to go shopping with Miss Darcy this afternoon, she insisted.”
At the mention of Miss Darcy, Bingley had a new cause to extend his stay. “Oh, Miss Darcy, yes, is she home? My sister wished to extend her an invite . . .” Bingley frowned as he realized Caroline had been very ungenerous in asking him to only invite Miss Darcy for dinner. He held the card in his pocket, but was now too embarrassed to give it, certainly not in front of Miss Bennet.
“Miss Darcy is indisposed at the moment.” Richard bandied the universal denial of a young lady just as a chorus of tinkling giggles carried from above stairs down into the entryway with an echo.
Bingley gazed up the stairs, his head cocked to one side. “Why, that sounds like, is one of your other sisters here Miss Bennet?”
“What? No. Just me.”
More giggles from above stairs wafted down, attracting greater notice. “Well, whoever it is, it sounds like Miss Darcy enjoys their company.”
“A new maid. Miss Darcy has employed a new maid and you know how young girls can be.”
Bingley shrugged his shoulders and took Richard’s word for it. He had never seen his sister get along so well with a hired staff member, but he would not dare to continue to further contradict the colonel or Miss Bennet.
“Well, seeing as I am embarrassingly early for an interview with Darcy, please accept my farewells and let me know when we might expect his arrival. I’m finding myself hopelessly outnumbered at the Hurst household. . . ” Bingley gently ribbed the colonel, but then looked to Jane and swiftly apologized.
“I have sisters, sir, they can be quite irksome at times. Your secret is safe with me,” Jane said, honestly, forcing herself not to look up at the ceiling as she thought of a particularly irksome sister.
When the man finally left and the door shut, Jane leaned against the bannister as if catching her breath.
“I thought he might never go.”
“He is irritating, I never quite understood Darcy’s friendship with him.”
Jane grimaced as the two girls could be heard again in what sounded like a jolly party. Richard raised an eyebrow and Jane shrugged.
“Two sixteen-year-old girls, trust me, Lydia and Kitty are a year apart and always sound like that.”
“It’s a shame Georgiana didn’t meet her sister Lydia under better circumstances.” Richard walked into the parlor and Jane followed him, the letter still in hand.
“Can I pour you a glass of wine?” Richard helped himself to the stronger spirits in the room.
“Yes, and I shall read the letter, if you do not mind.”
Richard shook his head.
“Will you go warn them to stay quiet?” he asked, arching his eyebrows but Jane was already reading. “Right, I suppose a fatherly figure might instill more fear.” He finished his drink and left Jane to read.
Mr. Darcy’s words about Elizabeth’s condition and signs of recovery did calm Jane’s nerves, but she fretted that Mr. Darcy spoke of what events Elizabeth did not remember, namely their nuptials.
“Oh Lizzie,” Jane’s heart ached for the sister closest to her in age and alliance.
Above stairs, she heard Richard’s militaristic, booming voice chide the girls for carrying on so recklessly. Nothing but silence ran through the house once he was finished. His footsteps thundered down the stairs as he still wore his boots. When he entered the parlor to pour himself another drink, a new chorus of giggles even louder than the first, filled the room.
“Perhaps you should tell your cousin’s staff to remove the door knocker.”
“Yes, I believe that is wise.” Richard turned his back to Jane knowing the woman made the sauciest look of “I-told-you-so,” that he found absolutely delightful.
Remembering he was not long for this country and that his business was half-way through, Richard refused his heart any further emotions. He simply could not afford them.
Chapter 38 - The Whisky Wedding, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
MR. BINGLEY WAS not the only visitor to Darcy House in London that anticipated the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Lady Matlock arrived no less than an hour after Charles Bingley and found her son and Miss Bennet enjoying each other’s company in the front parlor.
“Mother!” Richard Fitzwilliam could never shrug off the childhood reaction to his mother’s presence. Even if he was not engaged in any sort of improper conduct, he always felt guilty under her watchful gaze.
“You found the girl?” Lady Matlock did not bother with platitudes or social niceties as she entered the room and took a seat near Jane. “Your sister, the note said you found your sister.”
“Yes, your ladyship, they had her locked away and it does not appear they fed her very much. She was weak and rests above stairs.”
“And what has she said? Hmm? Where can we find the scoundrel who started this entire mess. Richard?” Lady Matlock’s sharp questions made both Jane and Richard red with embarrassment. After the disastrous call of Mr. Bingley, Richard found himself distracted from his aim of leaving to help the search for Wickham. He had worried more about Jane’s feelings and then became captivated by her genteel nature and kind company.
“Now that you are here, I feel comfortable leaving the household. I did not wish to leave the ladies unprotected since we rescued Miss Lydia.” Richard’s excuse sounded lame even to his ears as he bowed to his mother and Miss Bennet.
“For whatever the logic is this? How would I protect these girls?” Lady Matlock tilted her head to one side, well aware of why her most steadfast soldierly son was suddenly behaving so peculiar. Daft, practically, if she had to put a label on it.
“You brought your footman, did you not?”
“And my nephew does not employ any footmen? No, no Richard, your explanation is preposterous. We all know you do not wish to leave Miss Bennet.”
Jane’s mouth opened in surprise and she covered it with her hands when Richard scowled at his mother.
“Mother, Miss Bennet does not deserve your rudeness.” Richard stepped forward and pecked his mother on the cheek before bowing low and taking his leave.
As soon as Richard quit the room, Lady Matlock leaned over and patted Jane’s leg as the young woman still sat in a state of shock. “I was half teasing my son, and half giving him a warning. I shall not go so far as to say he could never have a future with you, but as his mother I would not delight in a decision to align himself with the Bennet family.”
Jane looked down and murmured that she understood. And she did, Lady Matlock was not being unkind but realistic. She had one sister who attempted to elope and another who managed to actually do so. Mr. Darcy’s wealth and status would go a long way to absolving Elizabeth of any scandal, but not completely. And though there was a plan to obscure Lydia’s disgrace, no matter how carefully they executed their plans, at any time in the future the truth might be revealed.
After all, it was the career and social protection of one colonel in the militia there was even such effort to find and rescue her sister. But Jane’s thoughts did not continue in this vein as Lady Matlock did come for business purposes.
“Have you interviewed the girl?”
Jane did not answer right away. She could not assess the aims of Lady Matlock with her question.
“I do not understand, I spoke to her briefly this morning and Colonel Fitzwilliam scolded the girls about an hour ago.”
“Scolded them for what? Is your sister a bad influence on Georgiana?” Lady Matlock became quite put out as she had assumed the child ran off in a momentary lapse of judgment. She had not considered there might be a disastrous flaw of character and the youngest sister of a woman she had taken a great measure and found quite impressive.
“No, your ladyship, at least there was nothing dangerous. Lydia and Miss Darcy enjoy a similar age and I believe they have found comfort in each other’s company. But the giggling was heard by Mr. Bingley–”
“That mopey man was here? Gracious, that man lacks a spine and will allow my nephew to direct his affairs all the way to the grave.”
Jane began to cough when she nearly laughed out loud at Lady Matlock’s assessment of Mr. Bingley. She could not argue with the great woman, similar sentiments very lately became her own opinion; that Mr. Bingley lacked the backbone that she could trust.
Rising from her chair, Lady Matlock glided halfway to the door before she turned around to frantically wave for Jane to get up. “Well come along, we have much to discuss.”
Startled, Jane stood to follow Lady Matlock and nearly ran into the back of the woman when she stopped suddenly at the door.
“Forgive me, I am too hasty. Perhaps we ought to call for your aunt, no? Should she not be present when we ask your sister to speak for her actions?”
A quiet anger smoldered in Jane’s heart as mention of her Aunt Gardiner reminded her of the letter they received that morning from Mr. Darcy. Her aunt had not only abandoned Elizabeth in Scotland, but Elizabeth had been grievously injured. If she had not found Mr. Darcy, her favorite sister might be dead. Recollection of such disloyalty did not lend consideration for her aunt or any of her elders in her family that botched the search and rescue for either of her sisters, in Jane’s opinion.
“No, we should not bother her. She has been unwell and she will not be in a position to help support our plans for concealment.”
“As you wish.” Lady Matlock accepted Jane’s answer, with no further questioning, and led the way up the stairs to take Miss Lydia to task for the first time in the young woman’s life.
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 39 - The Whisky Wedding, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
AS THE AFTERNOON brought more soldiers to the far edge of Old Pye Street, Sally Younge peeked through her curtains to take a new count. That morning there’d only been the two who watched her every move, but now there were suddenly five that she could see. Something had to have changed for such a response. The soldiers believed they would find George Wickham, the deserter, at her home.
“Your stew is growing cold. They will keep sending soldiers to find that Wickham man whether you stand at the window or not.” Gaston, Sally’s hired man and sometimes paramour, took a swig of ale as he scowled at Mrs. Younge.
“Makes me less nervous is all. To count them, to know. Eventually, they’re going to start interrogating and they’re going to start interrogating with the hides of you and me if we don’t do something about this.” Mrs. Younge came to the table and tried to ignore her misguided heart still carried hope for George Wickham. By rights, she owed that man nothing. He had abandoned her at Ramsgate, ruined their plot then. And when he showed up with that mouse of a girl on her doorstep thinking she would hold her, Sally Younge gave him another think coming. Sally was the one who had sent him to Lady Bowman’s to sell that bit of muslin and come back and split the coin with her.
Of course George being George, Sally never saw him again. With coins in his pocket, the only place to find George Wickham was the nearest gambling hall and it did not suit Sally Younge to go chasing after the unreliable man all over London.
“You’re coming up with a scheme. I can see it. You frown like that when you’re thinking hard.” Gaston slurped his stew noisily, willing to push the boundary of social niceties with his lover, but not naïve enough to think she wouldn’t close her purse strings if he truly vexed her. It was not much, but the widow of Patrick Younge enjoyed a small income from her marriage settlement. Enough to keep a roof over their heads and three meals a day which was more than Gaston had enjoyed in France before he fled.
“I am reflecting on how to double-cross a double-crosser.” Sally Young clicked her nails on the modest table and continued to work out the particulars in her mind.
“Ah, the slippery fella, the one they’re looking for.”
“Aye.”
“You sure you want to get mixed up with him again? Sounds like both times he got the best of you.” Gaston shrugged as he helped himself to more of his supper, a meal he was not accustomed to eating so early, but doing so provided an economy with the candles. It was not his house, he could hardly argue about the timing of meals.
“Do not act so smug. His loss is your gain, you would do well to remember that.” Sally Younge pulled a chunk off the soda bread and drank her own ale. She scrunched her nose up at the stew and wondered how old the meat was that her part-time Cook could find this late in the season. The fancy folk had begun their flight and the small remainders of prime cuts were harder and harder to come by for a reasonable price.
“I don’t see why you are protecting him.” Gaston slurped the last remaining bit of his stew from his trench and burped for good measure. But his declaration added another layer to Mrs. Younge’s plan.
“Are you a fool? Go ahead, walk right out there. Tell the nearest soldier you know where George Wickham is holed up. See how fast you’re thrown in irons as an accomplice.”
Though he was a man of broad shoulders and nearly six feet tall in stature, Gaston du Lac trembled at the mention of being arrested and clapped in irons. Starvation in France had run him from his homeland, and it was by sheer luck he escaped the Law’s long arm and crossed the channel.
Sally Younge picked small bits off her piece of bread and flicked them into her stew. She watched as the liquid soaked into each piece causing it to sink below the surface of the gravy and miscellaneous pieces of meat and vegetable, disappearing, never to be seen again. Finally feeling she had played all of the possibilities in her mind, she told Gaston to fetch her writing things. She had an errand for him. Gaston grumbled at the order, but rose from the chair to answer his lady’s call.
A half hour later, she had a letter written and carefully coded should it fall into the wrong hands. She gave Gaston clear instructions to take a pub crawl. He was to visit four different pubs with the White Stag being the third so the soldiers would believe George Wickham to be at the last. He was to give the letter to the barkeep and tell him it was for a friend of Patrick Younge. Using her dead husband’s name had always been the way Sally Young sent communication to George Wickham in the past and she hoped he kept the channel open. No one asked after a dead man, so it was an easy way for Wickham to filter messages. All sorts asked after a George Wickham to pay the bills he left behind.
“But what if the soldiers arrest me! I can go to no English jail.” To be truthful, Gaston du Lac did not want to go to any jail, English or French. But especially English. In France, at least the priests came by to give bread and water to the condemned.
“Sssh, the soldiers will not arrest you, they think I’m going to go warn George. You are just my footman. But, do this and we will have more money then you could ever dream about. Wickham had the girl, and I’m not certain how, but that rich man, Mr. Darcy, is involved somehow. Either Wickham finds a way to pay me what he promised or it will be his neck they stretch.”
Left without a choice, Gaston the footman donned his livery that made him feel absolutely ridiculous and left the house like a proper servant on an errand for their employer. Just as his Sally girl told him, the soldiers paid him no mind as they stood on the corner swapping war stories and keeping an eye out for the movements of Mrs. Younge.
He slipped right by them and began whistling a tune as he headed to the first pub Mrs. Younge told him to patronize. The coin she gave him made him wish he might spend the money on something else, but her instructions had been clear. Perhaps, if he had a few pennies left he would pick up a bit of chocolate for him and his lady to celebrate the plan to blackmail George Wickham. And if the tall bloke without even the courage to wear his country’s regimentals came looking for violence instead of paying up? Although Mrs. Younge would be disappointed, the Frenchman would find himself mighty satisfied to pay him with a pummeling.
You’ve been reading The Whisky Wedding
When Elizabeth Bennet of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice learns of her sister’s elopement before leaving for the Peaks District, she and her aunt are off to Scotland to chase the wayward couple. Inn after inn, there is no sign of Lydia or Mr. Wickham, but Elizabeth won’t give up. A foolhardy decision to continue to search on her own lands Elizabeth right into the arms of a familiar face . . . Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Join author Elizabeth Ann West in a tale of carriage accidents, amnesia, and a forced marriage, but happy endings for all. Well, maybe not Mr. Wickham!
The Whisky Wedding
a Pride and Prejudice novel variation
Release Date: December 28, 2016
514 pages in print.
+ 23 additional Pride & Prejudice variations are available at these fine retailers . . .
Keep reading more by clicking below!
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.