This might be broken up into separate chapters once I publish . . . but it’s a deliciously long chapter, nonetheless. And just in case it wasn’t obvious, just like the beginning of the book, oh yes, she HEARD!! 🙂Â
Chapter 9 - A Test of Fire, a Pride and Prejudice Variation Novella
An act of subterfuge was required to enlist the attendance of Miss Bingley. The Hursts politely declined the dinner invitation, sending their regrets that Mrs. Hurst was feeling unwell. Caroline tried to employ the same ruse against the obligation, but Mr. Darcy preyed upon her baser nature. Quietly, he promised to observe the Bennet family more carefully and hear her objections with an open mind. She giddily agreed to attend the dinner then, and Mr. Darcy hoped the loss of a couple would not thwart Mrs. Bennet’s careful plans too drastically.
What Mr. Darcy did not count on was Caroline complaining the entire carriage ride over to Longbourn.
“What will you do, purchase that drafty, leaky estate? You will have to put more money into than what it’s worth, won’t he Mr. Darcy?” she countered her brother who had just extolled the graces of Jane Bennet and announced his plans to ask for her hand in marriage that very evening.
“It is not so bad as all of that,” he said.
“No, it’s worse. Half of the chimneys smoke the room up if you attempt to use them! Louisa and I cannot open the windows in our suites. The sash in Mr. Darcy’s room leaks!” Caroline enumerated the problems with Netherfield Park, all common problems for any home that sat unattended for a span of years.
“Surely every house has its issues. As an owner and master, that is what you do, Caroline. You repair and make improvements, securing your legacy,” Bingley said, arguing back with his sister the very words they heard their father say over and over again. It was John Bingley’s dearest wish for his daughters to be raised as ladies and for his son to buy an estate. The work of generations was a never-ending sermon in the Bingley household.
Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and thanked Providence that although his sister Georgiana had recently given him some trouble on a recent holiday to Ramsgate, though the disaster was averted due to her good nature and proper behavior, she never raised her voice like Miss Bingley. He wasn’t entirely certain how Charles abided the snipes and complaints of his younger sister, but not wishing to ruin his appetite with indigestion, he wished to put an end to the sibling squabble.
“Tomorrow, let us ride out together, Charles, and we will inspect the property. If you are considering an offer of purchase, at least have valid information or at least confirm the information that Phillips gave you,” Mr. Darcy suggested.
“And then you will tell my brother how unsound his plan is,” Caroline urged.
“Caroline!”
Mr. Darcy blanched as the space was entirely too small for them to both be yelling at each other. He lowered his voice to barely above a whisper, questioning how he had ever come to place himself in this situation. But Bingley had been of such a service to him to avoid the higher social circles since inheriting Pemberley, and Darcy genuinely enjoyed his company, he couldn’t fault the man. “Your bother’s decision is his own. But please, both of you, my head is beginning to ache.”
After suffering the sudden concerns by Miss Bingley for his health, the last of the short carriage ride to Longbourn was quiet.
Upon entering Longbourn, however, the chaos of all five Bennet sisters; a new acquaintance, the aforementioned fortunate cousin; Mr. and Mrs. Bennet; and the grieving Mr. Phillips stunned the arriving Netherfield Party as soon as they were shown into the parlor. There was scarcely any place to sit, so Mr. Darcy found a close corner to stand in. Introductions were made, and no soon had his name been pronounced, that Mr. Darcy found himself suddenly receiving the very low bow of Elizabeth’s tall cousin.
“Mr. Darcy! Of Derbyshire and Pemberley?” The man asked as soon as he rose again.
“Yes,” Mr. Darcy said, cautiously, offering the man a slight nod of his head in polite greeting.
“William Collins, at your service, sir!” he exclaimed, promptly bowing once more even lower. Mr. Darcy frowned, until he caught the tinkling sound of Elizabeth’s giggle from across the room, and looked up to share a look with her in solidarity. The cousin had been quite close to her when they entered the room but suddenly shifted allegiance upon hearing Mr. Darcy’s name.
“Forgive me, but do you know me?” Darcy asked.
“Of you, most certainly! I am parson to your kind, wise, and most gracious aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh! I am happy to say that I left her in the best of health and spirits not two days ago, and your intended Miss de Bourgh was very well, as well,” Mr. Collins said, loudly.
Mr. Darcy sneered at the man before him. “I beg your pardon, but Miss de Bourgh is not my intended,” he said, sharply.
“Quite right, Lady Catherine told me your alliance was of a particular kind, not yet announced,” Mr. Collins said, conspiratorially, winking at Mr. Darcy. He turned around to look at Elizabeth Bennet on the settee talking with Miss Bingley. “An alliance I hope to model myself. Yes, yes, families such as ours should strengthen our roots from within, would you not agree?”
Mr. Darcy panicked for a moment as he worried that Elizabeth might have heard her bombastic cousin. However, she playfully spoke to Miss Bingley and her grieving uncle on the other side of the room, and he felt relief. Not wishing to speak to Mr. Collins anymore, but finding his other preferred people engaged, he walked away to stand closer to Miss Elizabeth. Unfortunately, Mr. Collins followed him there like a lost puppy.
Caroline Bingley believed she had attracted Mr. Darcy over through her display of kindness, and so she laid her condolences on thickly. “Mr. Phillips, I am so sorry for your loss. How wonderful it is that you can seek solace in the bosom of your dearly departed wife’s family,” she said.
Mr. Phillips stared blankly into his teacup. “Magdalene loved socializing,” he said, with a sniff. “Our home is so quiet without her,” he managed, emotion choking in his throat.
Mr. Darcy watched the man closely with great sympathy for his situation. He had felt wrecked the nights he worried that Miss Elizabeth might not survive and as he risked a glance to the crown of her head, his eyes flicked involuntarily to the rather felicitous view of the lady’s bosom, restrained tightly in her gown to boost her cleavage to the greatest advantage. Shaking off his inappropriate stirrings, he opened his mouth to say something polite but was usurped by Mr. Collins.
“At least you can take solace in your children,” Mr. Collins said.
Mr. Phillips looked up with his tormented, red-rimmed eyes, gaping at Mr. Collins.
When her uncle could not speak, Elizabeth gently interceded.
“You are thinking of my mother’s brother and his wife, in London. My Aunt and Uncle Phillips had not yet been blessed with children,” Elizabeth said, giving her uncle a strained smile of empathy.
“No, I’m sure they have four children,” Mr. Collins said, looking to Mrs. Bennet for support.
Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose and Mr. Darcy almost laughed as he identified so wholly with the sentiment of her body language.
“Can you not offer the man words of comfort from the Almighty?” Mr. Darcy asked, thoroughly put off by the man of the cloth, even if he was Elizabeth’s cousin.
“Yes, yes, that is, in times like these, my patroness, the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh, says that we must be grateful in our suffering, so that, that is, our suffering is paramount to our future suffering when—” Mr. Collins struggled until Mr. Darcy finally interrupted him.
“Hear my prayer, O Lord, and give ear to unto my cry; hold not thy peace at my tears: for I am a stranger with thee, and a sojourner, as all my fathers were.” Mr. Darcy’s rich tone silenced the other conversations in the room and nearly all had to turn to him as he looked most intently at Mr. Phillips.
The aggrieved widower softly thanked the stranger from Derbyshire and Mr. Bennet used the pause to encourage everyone to the dining room. Hoping to catch Elizabeth for a brief moment, Mr. Darcy was again thwarted by his aunt’s sycophant.
“Cousin Elizabeth, may I lead you in to dinner?” Mr. Collins asked.
Under the stern eye of her mother, Elizabeth sighed and accepted the offered arm of Mr. Collins without argument. Mr. Darcy blinked as he watched Elizabeth leave, without even looking back at him. He caught the eye of Mr. Bennet across the room and heard an echo of the man’s words in his head. In front of him, Mr. Bingley escorted Jane into the dining room and Mr. Darcy began to wonder if he was entirely mistaken about Miss Elizabeth, perhaps she did not hold any particular regard for him. A tug on his coat sleeve attracted his notice below him. Miss Bingley gazed expectantly up at him, waiting for him to offer to escort her. Feeling trapped, Mr. Darcy spied a quick alternative.
“Mrs. Bennet, may I be so bold as to offer you an escort into your lovely dining room?”
“Mr. Darcy! My, this is unexpected,” she said, looking at the clearly disappointed Miss Bingley and making a quick calculation. “Yes, that is very kind sir, and you shall sit next to me. Since the poor Hursts will not be able to join us this evening, we shall have their places removed from the middle.”
Unfortunately, this left Mr. Bennet to escort in Miss Bingley, and he graciously led her to her chair, next to Mr. Darcy at his wife’s end of the table. At the other end, Mr. Bingley and Jane and Elizabeth and her cousin Mr. Collins sat closest to the head. Even worse luck was that he was seated on the same side of the table as Elizabeth and Mr. Collins, so not only could he not hear their conversation, he could not even see her for the majority of the meal except for passing glances. Yet, any time he leaned forward or tried to attend to the conversation down at that end of the table, he never could seem to catch her eye as he had in the parlor.
Miss Bingley asked the rudest questions of Mrs. Bennet, and the woman lapped up the attention, divulging the most embarrassing personal details. Jane apparently had suitors before, some man who wrote her poetry. When Mr. Bennet died, they would all share her meager settlement of £400 per annum for all six of them if interest rates remained steady.
“But it shan’t come to that, I think,” Mrs. Bennet said, drinking her wine.
“Do you have a family estate or some other means of rescue?” Miss Bingley inquired in a voice dripping with false sincerity.
Mr. Darcy felt the food in his stomach somersault within the confines of his body, increasing his discomfort tenfold.
Mrs. Bennet laughed. “No, my family is from trade, same as you,” she said, almost making Mr. Darcy choke on his wine as he wished he could turn and see Miss Bingley’s face at the ‘friendly-reminder.’ “But look down the table, your brother and Jane are most assuredly half in love with each other, and my clever Lizzy has caught the eye of her cousin who will inherit everything. We shall be quite fine, indeed, but what about you my dear? You must have had two or three seasons in London by now?”
Mr. Darcy coughed as the meat pie he had taken a bite of to avoid adding to the conversation became stuck in his throat as he tried to laugh and chew at the same time. Miss Bingley motioned for a footman to pour him more wine, and Darcy could barely breathe as he coughed and coughed until finally, a large mouthful of wine pushed down the dry pastry and large chunk of stewed meat.
Before Miss Bingley could answer, a sharp tinkling sound of silverware striking glass ceased all conversation at the table. All eyes turned to Mr. Collins who struggled to push back his heavy, oaken chair that had been a fixture at Longbourn for generations. Still, the man managed to scrape it against the rug in the time of only a few giggles from his youngest cousins, sitting across from Mr. Darcy. Then he stood.
“I lift a glass, to the family of Bennet, our host, my relations, and soon, I hope to call something even more tender,” he began, looking down at Elizabeth sitting next to him. “I have heard of the incomprehensible tragedy that has befallen this hamlet and thanked our merciful God that my cousin, Mr. Bennet, was spared.”
“I bet he did not,” Mr. Darcy said, under his breath.
“And to my dear Cousin Elizabeth, who took it upon herself to try to rescue more the night of the fire, suffering great pains in her efforts, spared from certain death by a hero amongst us, you, Mr. Darcy!” he shouted, raising his glass further and causing all attention to be on his patroness’ nephew at the opposite end of the table. Mr. Darcy avoided their stares but tried to find one. Only she refused to look his way and instead contemplated her hands in her lap.
“I should not have known what a debt I might owe you, sir, of hearing of your impeccable character and good judgment, I was quite aware. And I shall happily carry back to your most prestigious aunt all that I have learned here of your selfless behavior,” Mr. Collins finished.
“To Mr. Darcy!” Mr. Bingley added, causing everyone to raise their glasses in a cheer. Elizabeth also raised her glass but remained focused on her sister across the way.
“That was lovely Mr. Collins. Is there anything else you’d like to impart? Hmm?” Mrs. Bennet encouraged.
Mr. Collins gaped his mouth open and closed like a misplaced fish upon the land. Sensing an opportunity, Mr. Bingley pushed his chair back without the same difficulties as Mr. Collins. He raised his wine and looked lovingly next to him, beginning to extoll the virtues of Jane.
“I would like to say that Miss Bennet has captured my heart—”
“That’s quite enough! Dinner is at an end.” Mr. Bennet said, leaning over to Mr. Bingley, whispering something in his ear. Mr. Bingley turned a deep shade of red, and chaos erupted at the table.
Mrs. Bennet began to fuss at her husband, while Lydia Bennet and Kitty Bennet complained that they had not finished eating and wanted dessert. Mr. Darcy tried to keep up as many began moving in the dining room all at once: Mr. Bennet and Mr. Bingley going one way to his study, and Elizabeth scurrying over to her sister, Jane.
“Now will you help me? No one in their right mind would join this family,” Miss Bingley said, through clenched teeth.
When Mr. Darcy turned his head for a moment as Miss Bingley had again pulled on his arm before she spoke, he lost sight of Elizabeth. Servants began clearing the dishes and then started bringing them back as Mrs. Bennet gave a conflicting order. When he tried to find the two eldest Bennet daughters, he was left wanting. Somehow, they had disappeared from the dining room completely. A tap on his shoulder startled Mr. Darcy and he pushed his chair back to rise, practically squashing Mr. Collins against the wall.
“My apologies,” he offered, moving the chair so that Mr. Collins could escape.
Mr. Collins tugged on his simple parson’s coat, setting aside the injury to his dignity.
“I should see to my cousin, I feel,” he began, looking towards the back door that Mr. Darcy knew led towards the staircase.
A surge of jealousy coursed through Darcy’s veins as he despised the very idea of Mr. Collins sleeping under the same roof as Elizabeth!
“She is with Miss Bennet, and while I am certain you have secured Mrs. Bennet’s good opinion, may I offer a small piece of advice?” Mr. Darcy asked, watching the buffoon drool over his every word.
“Any guidance your illustrious person would grant me I would be most gracious to accept, sir.”
Mr. Darcy schooled his reaction to mask his intent of leading Mr. Collins astray.
“Seek out Mr. Bennet’s approval. He is the head of this household and if your aims are as you say, to repair the great breach between the branches of your family long ago, make him your ally.” Mr. Darcy hoped that Mr. Bennet would at least be equitable in his treatment of suitors for his daughters’ hands: unhelpfully equitable.
Mr. Collins brightened and smoothed his hands over his chest with pride. “Yes, that is most excellent advice, thank you!” And Mr. Collins sauntered towards the eastern side of the home towards the study. Mr. Darcy, unfortunately, was torn between what to do. He wanted to go to the study and be a part of the discussions behind that closed door but knew Mr. Bingley would tell him all. He also did not trust himself to remain calm and sensible when that oaf of a parson spoke as though an alliance between him and Elizabeth was already formed.
Presented with no better options, Mr. Darcy resumed his seat and ate what he could of his meal. He continued to hope that Miss Bennet and Elizabeth returned to the dining room, but there was nothing he could do to put such a plan into motion. As Mrs. Bennet prattled on and on about Mr. Bingley most assuredly working out details of an engagement with her husband, she drank more wine than was sensible. Miss Bingley began a discussion with the younger Bennet sisters across the table about the latest fashions, enjoying their rapt attention as she described various gowns she had worn and seen in ballrooms.
“Are there ladies who wear all white and drench their fronts with water to make the fabric sheer?” the second to youngest Bennet sisters asked.
Mr. Darcy could not believe his ears and looked to Mrs. Bennet or Mr. Phillips to discipline their charges. But no rebuke came. Without a thought, he demonstrated the same tone he used with Georgiana when she would need a verbal correction, rare as it was.
“Such a topic should never leave the mouth of a lady, most especially in mixed company,” he scolded.
To his surprise, neither Mrs. Bennet nor Mr. Phillips took the opportunity to reinforce his chastisement and the two younger Bennet sisters made faces at him. The middle daughter, the quiet one, nodded enthusiastically at him.
“I have told you, Kitty, and you too, Lydia, that you are dangerously flirting with the path of a fallen woman,” she added.
Mr. Darcy cringed. In the misguided attempt to shepherd her younger sisters, Mary Bennet had introduced an even worse topic to the table.
“Mrs. Bennet,” he began, praying that if he changed the subject, he could avoid another uncomfortable subject. “Forgive me if this pains you, but I was not well-acquainted with your sister. Can you share more about what she was like? With your consent, of course, Mr. Phillips,” he said, nodding to the sad, silent man who sat as almost a hollow shell of a person.
“Maggie was my eldest sister and always quick to make new friends. Why when we were growing up in London, she knew all of the best parties and dinners to attend. . .”
For the better part of half an hour, Mr. Darcy listened patiently to Mrs. Bennet recount how her sister’s romance with Mr. Phillips, meeting him when he was a student, led her to move to Meryton. Visiting her sister one summer, she met Thomas Bennet, the son of the local squire who despised the idea of his son marrying anyone considered beneath his station. The Bennets had been attached to Longbourn for generations, back to the days of Plantagenet mischief under various surnames, but it was the current Mr. Bennet’s father who insisted on the entail. Knowing his son to hate all matters of estate management, he feared that Mr. Bennet would sell Longbourn and move to London.
“So we married and I was so young, what did I care about a document insisting I would bear his son?” she asked, sloshing her wine goblet freely.
The three remaining Bennet daughters watched their mother with their eyes widened in equal measures of shock and trepidation.
Suddenly, Mrs. Bennet began to sob. Mr. Phillips stoically rose from his seat and set a hand on his sister-in-law’s shoulder.
“Girls, perhaps you ought to retire,” he said, gently.
Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley took this moment to give their thanks for the meal and made their way back to the parlor to wait for Charles. The evening, intended to welcome a new relation to the neighborhood and grant a grieving man a well-cooked meal with family, was an unmitigated disaster. The Netherfield party had been the interloper. Darcy suddenly felt very ashamed of himself for accepting the invitation. Before the arrival of Mr. Collins, the family had little choice but to encourage any would-be suitor that presented himself. But now that the heir presumptive was happy to marry one of the daughters, the pain and fear of ruin that had haunted Mrs. Bennet for the last decade and a half since she birthed her last surviving child could be eliminated. If only she was not also dealing with the untimely loss of a most beloved sister.
“These people are in pain, we have trespassed,” he said, softly.
“It is I am who is in pain,” Caroline Bingley whined. “Where is Charles?”
No sooner had she wondered about her brother that the study door far down the hall opened and Mr. Bingley walked in a daze to the room. They accepted their outerwear from the butler and waited as their carriage was fetched, offering a ride to Mr. Phillips who declined, stating that he would stay the night.
For once, the carriage ride back to Netherfield Park was silent as Mr. Bingley sat gazing out the window up at the full moon. When they reached their temporary home, Miss Bingley complained of a headache and retired straight away. Finally alone with Mr. Bingley, it was now Mr. Darcy who was so desperate for information.
“What did you decide with Mr. Bennet?” he asked, straight to the point as his head ached as well from the evening’s tumultuous entertainments.
Mr. Bingley gave his friend a lop-sided grin as though he were the cat who caught the canary.
“He has accepted my request to court Miss Bennet, so long as we do so at their home and my own, chaperoned, of course, but not out in public, for not less than six weeks.” The man used his fingers to recount the various stipulations placed upon him, happy he was able to recount them all.
Mr. Darcy furrowed his brow as Mr. Bingley bid him a good night and made silly, shuffling dance-like steps to the stairs, talking to himself. He could not imagine, if he was ready to ask for Mr. Bennet’s approval to ask for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage, finding cause to celebrate a courtship that was over a month and a half long. Then again, it wasn’t Mr. Bennet’s approval he craved at all. It was hers. And no matter how long her approval took to secure, Fitzwilliam Darcy would burn with desire.Â
Thank you for reading and for your comments below. 🙂 -EAW
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Chapter 1 A Test of Fire
October 2, 2021
10 Comments
NOVELLA CHALLENGE! From the #Janeside on Facebook, a group I run with fellow author April Floyd, I threw down the gauntlet of challenging myself with
Chapter 2 A Test of Fire
October 3, 2021
3 Comments
This was a hard chapter to write. Sorry for the delay, I am writing the book out of order in another experiment. Still aiming to
Chapter 3 A Test of Fire
October 6, 2021
8 Comments
I am back to work this week and next, so not going to be done by Friday. Still, I’m trying to make time to write,
Chapter 4 A Test of Fire
October 15, 2021
10 Comments
I resigned earlier this week than I anticipated, my health has been a bit of struggle lately. However, when I can, I have written like
Chapter 5 A Test of Fire
October 17, 2021
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Had a slight set back, but I am still butt in chair, hands on keys. 🙂 And if you make that an acronym . .
Chapter 6 A Test of Fire
October 18, 2021
4 Comments
I do love writing the men uncomfortable. I never planned on drawing attention to the trade aspect of the Bingleys, but I’m imagining with the
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.
Darcy needs to speak up about Elizabeth because Collins is lusting and drooling all over her. Honestly I’m amazed Mrs Bennet hasn’t realized that Darcy compromised her when he rescued her from the fire. I’m shocked she’s not celebrating his capture with all the jewels, pin money and carriages that 10,000 a year would give.
I don’t really think anyone would say she was compromised. That’s the thing, compromised is super popular in literature, but in practice, the father typically needed to be more powerful/rich than the suitor in order to compel capitulation. It was still very rarely used, because who wants their daughter married to a man who doesn’t even want her? Austen wrote a romanticized version of marriage which appealed to her readers . . . because it was almost always just a business decision/proximity. Today, JAFF authors write romanticized and fictionalized versions of the Georgian era. 🙂
Mr. Bennet does not deserve his 2 eldest daughters. And I hope Jane, for a change, finds it within herself to stand up to Mr. B for her sister’s sake! The one who ran back in to a burning building, thinking Jane was still stuck inside.
Will we soon witness the warmer side of Darcy revealing himself even more to Elizabeth?