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 1 - The Blessing of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
“You are too cruel, Lizzie. I cannot believe Mr. Darcy’s aunt makes faces like a swollen elephant if things do not go her way.” Jane Bingley twisted her lips into a half frown of disapproval of her sister’s antics. Elizabeth had pantomimed the observation to the laughter of her future husband and gentle chuckling of his friend, Mr. Bingley.
“But it IS true. Her face turns a wicked shade of beet red and at first, I feared she would suffer apoplexy right there, in the drawing-room, as she called me the most vile names . . .” Elizabeth slanted her eyes to mimic Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s harshest critique.
A few days after their arrival in London, Elizabeth Bennet had begun to heal enough from her injuries to tolerate company for longer and longer spells. Her ribs still ached. Murderous headaches plagued her in unpredictable measures. But for one night, she wished to push the attack by her cousin in Kent to the back of her mind and enjoy the visits of her intended, Mr. Darcy, and her sister, Jane, and Jane’s husband, Charles.
The romantically twined couples sat down to dine in Elizabeth’s sick room at Mr. Darcy’s townhouse. Coincidentally, the room was once the suite used by his mother as the mistress of the home. In other circumstances, the presence of his betrothed in the mistress chambers, let alone in his home without a chaperone, would provide an insurmountable scandal. Thankfully, or ironically as Elizabeth chose to reflect upon the situation, plenty of scandal remained swirling around the Darcy family from the hastily patched up marriage of Darcy’s sister to the steward’s son she ran off with the previous summer. Publicly, it was a love match bound at Ramsgate. Truthfully, the marriage did not occur until December, a union not yet six months’ old.
“Why should she be so rude? She had never met you before that day you arrived with the Colonel . . .” Jane furrowed her brows at such a recounting of her sister’s arrival in Kent. Certain subject matters were safe: Elizabeth’s arrival, the walks Darcy and Elizabeth enjoyed on the grounds, even the clandestine wedding ceremony between Darcy’s cousins with him no longer forced to be the groom as his aunt wished. No one brought up the last night in Kent. The last night barely saw Elizabeth escape alive to a tenant on the glebe lands after a concussion – inducing thrashing by her cousin, William Collins.
Darcy struggled to regain his composure as the image of his future wife ballooning her cheeks played over and over again in his mind. Her likeness was spot on and yet more comical than the original lady in question. Restoring his countenance with a well-timed sip of wine, the dashingly handsome man of Derbyshire gazed with love over the candlelight at the impromptu dining table.
“Elizabeth is precisely correct in her estimations of my aunt. She is known to be entirely disagreeable in my family and uncouth for well-mannered company. You sister held her own most admirably.” Darcy tilted his glass and head towards his beloved, who blushed at the compliment despite her bruised face.
“Hear, hear!” Charles Bingley found a place to interject and squeezed his wife’s hand beside him. The intimate dining experience created by three chairs, a table, and the foot of Elizabeth’s bed provided a calming repast from the strictures a formal dining room would impose.
Elizabeth involuntarily grimaced. Darcy raised an eyebrow at the small adjustments Elizabeth made with her torso.
“We have taxed you too long,” he announced with a firmness to his voice.
“No, no! We’ve only just begun to eat. See, I am well.” Elizabeth took a larger than normal bite of her meal in an attempt to persuade him.
“Lizzie, we can all see you are uncomfortable. It is early to support your weight upright without the aid of pillows. Gentlemen, perhaps if you give us a moment of privacy I might help my sister find a more comfortable position?”
The two men gallantly rose from their places at the small table usually reserved for playing cards and exited the suite in quick succession.
“Thank you, Jane. I so desperately needed relief!” Elizabeth breathed in and out very painful breaths as her gown impaired her ability to find a comfortable position.
“Perhaps we ought to change your attire, would you be in less pain in your robe and chemise?”
“I cannot! It would be indecent. Then the men would have to leave us.”
Jane giggled and left to fetch the clothing she required. “You wore the same when you were unconscious at Netherfield. Both men have seen you thus.”
“That was different; I was not awake to feel morbid shame.”
“You do play a perfect damsel in distress,” Jane said in a deadpan tone as she gingerly helped her sister lift the offending gown.
“This time, it was the furthest desire of my heart,” Elizabeth said with more emotion than she intended.
For a moment, a silence fell between the sisters as Jane tied a perfect bow in the front of the heavy brocaded robe.
“I know,” Jane whispered.
Elizabeth sniffed in pure defiance of any tears that thought twice about falling. Changing her mind’s focus, she turned the conversation on her elder sister’s sudden lack of propriety.
“When did you become so free of rules and proper manners?” Elizabeth accosted her prim sister with a heavy accusation. “If Mama could hear you encouraging me to entertain gentlemen in my bedroom, in a gentleman’s home, in my nightgown and robe . . .” Both women burst out laughing heartily at the escalation of ridiculous situations they now found themselves living. Elizabeth sucked in a breath as the laughter stung her ribs most fiercely.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, truly sorry,” Jane wiped the happy tears forming at the edge of her eyes. “Perhaps it is because I am now married and learned the mystery of familiarity they keep away from gentlewomen is a disservice to a happy life. Or perhaps I am finding in my new condition that new matters are of greater importance and other matters . . .”
“Less so?” Elizabeth finished, looking hopefully up at her sister. Jane nodded and Elizabeth felt a cheer in her heart. There were more important matters, life and death matters, matters of love, that all trumped the arbitrary rules set for men and women. Some protection made good sense in the case of complete strangers, but surely Elizabeth was safe with her sister and brother present. She and Mr. Darcy had bonded too deeply over their varied adventures to be merely an ordinary courtship.
Setting her face firm, Elizabeth gave Jane a nod and the gentlemen were invited to reenter. Only this time, Jane and Bingley took to the table, and Mr. Darcy moved his chair to eat bedside with his Elizabeth.
“I do believe after we are wed; I should like to continue this tradition of private dining in a bedroom, Miss Elizabeth.”
“You mean I won’t have to seek injury to keep your private company?”
Darcy leaned closer so that Jane and Charles might not hear his response, but the newlywed couple was already preoccupied with their own concerns. “You never needed such schemes, my dearest.”
Elizabeth caught her breath as Darcy’s voice washed over her heart like a warm brandy. The man vexed her with his ability to stir improper feelings in her body that she had spent a lifetime being told were wanton and inexcusable in a lady. The idea of marrying such a man both excited and terrified her, but there was time yet before they could leave for Scotland.
Dr. Matthews had said at least two weeks’ wait, if not more, before he wished for her to make such a journey. Elizabeth had at first protested, pointing out she made it just fine from Kent, but Dr. Matthews defended her arguments by saying she very likely cracked a rib and was lucky to have not punctured a lung. Such a possibility was grave enough to convince Mr. Darcy there was no need, nor reason, to risk her life further.
“I shall take that into consideration, sir.” Elizabeth offered her intended a small smile despite the constant pain she was in and trying her best to hide. Although it was very unchristian of her to think so, she rather wished her cousin was dead — or at the very least in thrice the amount of pain she was enduring.
Eventually, the pleasant visiting grew to be unbearable, and Elizabeth caved, making a rare request for a drop of laudanum to be added to her wine.
The strong medicine made her very sleepy, but she managed to continue the meal. The evening passed in perfectly polite company as all attendees found the arrangement greatly to their mutual liking.
Chapter 2 - The Blessing of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
Dinner downstairs at Darcy House remained conducted in a much more somber manner with only two attendants. Georgiana Wickham and Caroline Bingley sat across from one another in the far corner of the dining room table from the main doors with very little conversation. The two friends experienced a slight estrangement when Caroline confessed her altercation with Georgiana’s husband in the study, including his attempts to attack her and his involvement in Lord Strange’s scheme.
Caroline Bingley swirled the wine in her glass as she sized up the little mouse before her. She had overplayed her hand in making such a bold declaration to Mr. Darcy about Mr. Wickham’s nefarious dealings nearly instantly upon his arrival. Either Darcy was too distracted by that chit, Elizabeth Bennet, he dragged from Kent or Caroline had not truly distinguished herself as instrumental in preserving his family and livelihood. Unwilling to give Elizabeth Bennet any credit for her abilities to captivate Darcy’s attentions, Caroline decided she must not have exhibited enough yet to show Mr. Darcy how well she would play the role of Mrs. Darcy.
A barely audible sniffle from her dining companion brought a swift smile to Miss Bingley’s lips. That little mouse was her ticket to Darcy’s heart! If she could salvage the disastrous situation of his sister’s husband, Mr. Darcy would have no choice but to see Caroline as the superior candidate for his wife. After all, what was a marriage other than an alliance of social and economic forces?
“Oh, Georgiana, dear Georgiana. I cannot continue in such a manner. Please. Tell me how I might serve our friendship and seek your forgiveness? I am wretched over how my actions have hurt you.” Caroline pushed her dinner plate away as an indication her turmoil over their discord affected her appetite. With any fortune, the little sister of her true aim would begin talking and give Caroline the insight she needed to further her own plans.
“’Tis not your fault, Miss Bingley. I was wrong to say such harsh words to you the other evening.” Georgiana’s fingers nervously picked at the tablecloth while she refused to make eye contact with the only person in her life who even attempted to make her life easier with George. “It is difficult for me now that Brother has banished my poor George from the home. I know not what a good wife should do in this instance? I’ve had no communication from George, he has not sent for me, nor has he instructed me on how I might help him by remaining with my selfish brother.” Georgiana scowled at the retelling of her helplessness.
Miss Bingley’s ears pricked up at the description of Mr. Darcy by his sister. She had suspected there to be a great rift between the siblings, but she had never afforded Georgiana the maturity and wit to see how her guardians had played her false. Still, Miss Bingley had to be careful; to speak ill of Mr. Darcy could very easily come back to haunt her even if her plans should succeed. Chewing her words thoughtfully, Miss Bingley offered a vague statement about the entirely inappropriate situation developing up upstairs.
“I hope I have shown our small disagreement was not strength enough to send me packing from your corner?” Caroline’s question was made more as a statement with a light tone. “I had expected your brother to show you more consideration and care for having to remove your husband from the home. I can only submit that the Bennet women are quite savvy at keeping the attentions of men when they so choose.”
Caroline flinched and offered a sincere look of solidarity as Georgiana flitted her eyes up to meet her friend’s face. “I experienced the same dismissal from my own brother when we were in Hertfordshire.” She neglected to include that she had utterly failed in keeping her own brother from marrying a Bennet girl. Nor did she expound that it was in response to her own rudeness at a sick guest that her brother berated her.
“You were ignored and neglected by Charles? But you are so good at insisting your needs be met, that is what I tried to do myself.” Georgiana rested her chin on her hand in frustration. “I thought perhaps if I was more forceful with Fitzwilliam, he would notice me more. But instead I am utterly lost to him now and he refuses to acknowledge any mistakes on his part, instead only focusing on my shortcomings.”
Georgiana looked off at a portrait of her late mother standing amongst the roses of Pemberley. Fitzwilliam had imparted that as their mother grew sicker and sicker, their father became nearly obsessed in commissioning artists to capture her likeness. With a surfeit of portraits for the late Lady Anne, Georgiana grew up with images of her mother constantly in her eyesight. She wondered how it might feel to be so cherished.
Caroline hummed in agreement along with an encouraging nod in her friend’s direction. This spurred Georgiana to channel her anger into a more convenient turn for Caroline’s plans.
“And now, his actions are entirely beyond comprehension!” Georgiana hissed. “If these Bennet women are as penniless as you say, how is he any different from myself? Has he not also cast off all of society’s demands and done precisely what he wants when he wishes much like a spoiled child? And is he being punished for such actions? No.”
Caroline held her breath for Georgiana to continue, nodding her head in sympathy at each additional out burst.
“He still holds access to all of his purse strings and I am left a beggar relation, pleading for consideration that is rightfully mine.” Georgiana shoved her dinner plate away to place both of her elbows on the table.
Caroline’s eyes widened as another piece of the tangled mess that involved the marriage of Darcy’s sister fell into place. Of course, Mr. Wickham could never be trusted with such a substantial fortune as Georgiana’s dowry, but how had Darcy managed to restrict the Wickhams from the money? And if all Georgiana wanted now was the freedom of her funds, well that was a sympathetic cause Caroline Bingley understood all too well. Her own brother had threatened to cut her off should she not make a match this same season. With her ties to the disastrous Darcys, it was uncertain if Caroline would receive the invitations she had previously enjoyed from the same coattails.
“Is there anyone in your family that would be supportive in a campaign to restore the family’s good name? While the actions of your brother are unfortunate, they are not yet married. Perhaps there’s still a chance that we might help you find a stronger negotiating position and your brother avoid a permanent tarnishing of the Darcy name.” Caroline was careful to not add the word ‘another’ before permanent tarnishing.
The younger Darcy sibling grinned with genuine relief at her friend’s support. “You do not think it is too late?”
“On the contrary, there is nothing London loves more than a scandal. If you and I position ourselves, perhaps with the assistance of some more powerful allies, we shall be invited to every drawing room, every ball, and every dinner the illustrious Bon Ton holds this season. And your version of the situation will be the accepted gossip. Perhaps with enough social pressure, your brother shall relent and restore your lifestyle.”
Georgiana bit her lower lip and moved the peas on her plate around with her fork. It was tempting, seeking social recognition for her marriage while finally punishing Fitzwilliam for his actions. But who would possibly help her with a plan to restore the Darcy name?
Georgiana slumped her shoulders and shook her head. This gave Caroline the opening she craved.
“What about your aunts? Could either of them perhaps have an interest in making sure your brother makes a smarter match than an unwashed, unconnected woman from some backwater country?
Slowly, Georgiana lifted her face with her mouth in a perfect circle of surprise. “Miss Bingley, you are now officially one of the smartest women of my acquaintance.” Georgiana laughed as Miss Bingley joined in.
Both women feeling the encouragement of coordinated effort resumed eating their respective dinners. As course after course came out of the kitchen, the two began a spoken list of all of the top events of the season to which they would relentlessly pursue an invitation.
Miss Bingley sat unsure of the endgame of her strategies, other than finding a way to separate Mr. Darcy from that harridan, Miss Elizabeth. But Georgiana Wickham provided the strongest leveraging piece to work on Darcy, and for that reason, and that reason alone, Miss Bingley would make it her aim to find a way to rid the poor girl of that demon husband. The idea was simple: save the sister, win the brother.
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 3 - The Blessing of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
Bawdy reveling spilled into the roadway at spontaneous intervals as Rosemary Younge weaved her way towards the Whitby Pub. A bar wench by eve with favors to share if a sailor’s purse be heavy enough, the woman knew how to survive. Ducking her head as a bulky object sailed in her general direction from across the avenue, her anger at such a near injury distracted her momentarily. She collided directly with a drunken patron leaving her place of employ.
“Don’t you watch where you’re going?” Her petite hands quickly shoved the offending patron back a few inches, enough to make him stagger a step and fall against the door frame.
“Is that any way to greet your Georgie?” The slobbering drunk was none other than Mrs. Younge’s former co-conspirator, George Wickham. Where the man possessed ample amounts of charm and flattery, he rather lacked any shreds of loyalty or honesty.
“Leave me be. I played your tricks once before and I shan’t do it no more. Quick to retreat as I remember in Ramsgate, leaving me high and dry to foot the bill.”
“Aye, but I see you landed on your feet. And I had to make quick to keep that bit of muslin from her brother. Worked too, her last name now shares mine.” George Wickham grinned as an unflattering belch escaped his gut. Mrs. Younge leaned away from the offending smell and moved aside as the man calmly pivoted his position while holding onto the door jamb.
“You’re drunk, find yer home, George Wickham, and never darken this inn again!” Rosemary Younge had no patience for Wickham’s lies.
“I speak truth, I married the girl last November.”
“Where have you been the last six months?” Mrs. Younge entered the establishment with George staggering on her heels. The owner of the pub, a burly man by the name of Alfie, was no one to trifle with on a good day. He raised a bushy eyebrow at the well-dressed man hounding his top earner in both drinks and dearies.
“Skag off, I already told you there’s no more drink for you here.”
“Patience, patience, my good man. I have business with the lady.”
“Lady? There ain’t no lady here.” Alfie roared, to the laughter of other men sitting at the bar. Rosemary Younge scowled but didn’t say nothing. Alfie didn’t take too kindly to being corrected.
“I just need a word.” George pleaded with Mrs. Younge as she grabbed a dirty cloth and began serving customers. She dodged George Wickham as he continued to pursue her while Alfie’s shouts became more unpleasant. The pub began to take an interest in the fine-clothed stranger, too much of an interest.
“Go away,” she hissed, smiling at Old Man Shaughnessy as he swatted her backside in appreciation for a fresh drink.
“Ye need help there, lass?”
“No, I will manage. How about you, ‘nother ale?” Rosemary asked the next table as George continued to pester her.
“I can make it worth your while.” George flicked a gold coin onto the crude tray Mrs. Younge held to serve multiple mugs. The glittering piece made her sigh, but she schooled her features and frowned.
“Wait outside until I come out when I’m done for the night.”
“But that will be hours,” George Wickham pleaded.
“I said for you to get out!” Alfie roared, beginning to move his wide girth from around the bar, making Mrs. Younge smile.
“Either you’ll be there or not. I’ll know what your mettle be then.” She sidestepped her employer as George Wickham dashed out of the Whitby Pub and hot stepped half the block before Alfie reached the door to keep yelling at him.
Rosemary Younge, a widow of war though hardly married when it happened, went about her business that night serving a jolly good time to all. No woman of a proper upbringing would relish her position though it was better than selling herself blindly in the street. Alfie saw all right by her and never let any man get too rough. But George Wickham. The man clouded her thoughts and her heart sang the familiar tune of love she had so hoped to quell after the last time he abandoned her for another.
Married was he? He couldn’t be living too high up on the hog if he was coming to her in the armpit of London looking for aid. She tried to keep that thought first in her mind as the wee hours of the morning sprung and her job was over. Taking the little pittance that Alfie offered as her cut of the proceeds, Rosemary Younge half hoped and half dreaded that George Wickham would be waiting outside for her.
As she left the bar that night and walked down the lane, she was two blocks away and feeling relieved until she heard that velvety voice float in the air.
“My sweet Rose, sweet Rose, your thorns prick too fierce.” Wickham stumbled out of the alleyway, clutching his chest as though he were properly injured.
“I have no use for a silver tongue.”
“Oh, but it has many uses for you.” George leered over her, inhaling her scent and his own inflamed Mrs. Younge’s senses.
“I’m done with all that. Tell me what you need or be off. I’m dog-tired.”
Wickham pulled out a handful of coins and pressed them into Rosemary’s hand. “I need a warm bed and your friendship. In exchange, I will have much more to offer than this.”
Rosemary Younge looked about her and realized the street was far too public a place for any plans a well-lined Wickham would have to impart. She hesitated for but a moment before nodding her head.
“Come along, I live but a stone’s throw this way. And you can tell me what you are up to now, but I won’t say that I will be of any help.”
Wickham kissed her hands and gallantly slipped her arm in his to escort her properly down the lane. “A rose so sweet, so kind, a talented find who shall be mine.” His voice lowered to a husky promise on the last word.
Mrs. Younge involuntarily shivered at his breath so close to her neck and she smiled. The night would be a fun romp, what was left of it, even if she had to endure the poor poetry of George Wickham to partake.
You’ve been reading The Blessing of Marriage
Book 3 of the Moralities of Marriage. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet find nothing but a mess in London after they escape Kent. The town home bare and the Wickhams caught up in Lord Strange’s illegal business venture, Darcy has little choice but to make unsavory friends as Elizabeth heals from her cousin’s attack. With the support of the Bingleys, Darcy and Elizabeth are finally ready to secure their future at the anvil in Gretna Green when Elizabeth has one small request.
A novel of 55,000 words, The Blessing of Marriage continues the rewriting of Jane Austen’s amazing story of Pride and Prejudice, wondering what might have happened if Darcy never saved Georgiana from the clutches of Mr. Wickham.
The Blessing of Marriage, Book 3 of the Moralities of Marriage
a Pride and Prejudice novel variation series
Release Date: March 14, 2016
310 pages in print.
+ 23 additional Pride & Prejudice variations are available at these fine retailers . . .
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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.