Mr. Darcy's Foreboding: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Read online

  Mr. Darcy’s Foreboding

  A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  by

  Glenna Mason

  Dedicated to all my friends who bought my first book, Mr. Darcy and the Lady with the Fine Eyes.

  Cover illustration by Erin Shore.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I can’t have you standing around here looking like a statue,” Bingley attested. “You must dance, Darcy.”

  “Why? You know I hate these assemblies, and anyway you’re dancing with the only pretty girl at this affair.”

  “She is an angel, but look!” Bingley said, nodding toward a young lady nearby. “There’s her sister. She’s quite attractive too.”

  Darcy glanced Elizabeth’s way. “Tolerable! But I’m in no mood to give consequence to a lady on the wall. Now go and enjoy your dance. Leave me be. I’m fine.”

  As Darcy turned back, he saw the “tolerable” lady talking animatedly with a decidedly less “tolerable” young lady and pointing his way.

  “Oh, no! She heard me.” Suddenly feeling quite at odds with his own character, Darcy severely reprimanded himself. Darcy was an enigma to most, sometimes himself included. On the one hand, he was astonishingly handsome and unconscionably arrogant, but, on the other hand, he was studiously serious and sometimes socially inept or was it insecure?

  Right now he was unhappy with himself for his thoughtless remark. It was not the “tolerable” lady he needed to recompense. She was currently vacillating between casting him looks of disdain and giggling behind her fan. He had to re-secure his own self-esteem. “I shall redeem myself by penance,” Darcy decided.

  Thus the haughty Fitzwilliam Darcy began to request the hands of the young ladies at the Meryton Assembly, beginning with the most homely. So it was that Miss Charlotte Lucas, Miss Mary Bennet and the two Long sisters stood up with Mr. Bingley’s house guest, rumored to have 10,000 a year.

  Throughout these stilted performances on the dance floor, Darcy surreptitiously observed the “tolerable” lady. He now knew her to be Elizabeth Bennet, sister to the beautiful Jane, who had so easily captivated his friend Bingley.

  To his surprise, he began to find Elizabeth Bennet intriguing. She was no longer just “tolerable” in his sentiment. Her zestful exuberance and carefree conversations resounded through the room. She brought life to the party and a smile to Darcy’s lips.

  So after escorting the second Miss Long back to her father, Darcy vacillated. He was ready to dance with the pert, pretty Miss Elizabeth Bennet. “Do I dare?” he asked himself. “Yes, I do,” he concluded. Darcy briskly crossed the room to where Elizabeth Bennet stood conversing with Charlotte Lucas and Charlotte’s brother John.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he requested, “may I have the honor of the next dance?”

  Elizabeth, surprised, hesitated and then answered, “No. I thank you, no.” With that she escaped in the direction of the refreshment table. Charlotte quickly followed her.

  Mr. Darcy remained quite still. He had never been refused before. He hardly knew how to handle his chagrin.

  John Lucas said quietly, “I’m sorry, Mr. Darcy, but I understand from Charlotte that earlier in the evening you upset Miss Elizabeth. I’m very much afraid that means her wounded pride has prejudiced her against you.” With that, John Lucas bowed and left Darcy standing alone in the center of the room.

  Just then Charles Bingley, gazing over his shoulder at Jane, who had followed her sister to the punch bowl, inadvertently bumped into Darcy, who still stood immobile and dazed, himself staring sightless in the direction of the two Bennet sisters.

  “Oh, I say, ole man,” Bingley apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, I meant I wasn’t looking where I was going. Of course I would have certainly have noticed a six foot friend, if I had not been thinking of Miss Bennet.”

  “Miss Bennet?”

  “Miss Jane Bennet, Darcy. I say are you quite well? You don’t seem yourself right now.”

  “Well?” Darcy inquired, still staring into space.

  Bingley snapped his fingers. “Darcy, it is I, Charles Bingley, Esquire, or some such nonsense.”

  Darcy shook his head, as if to expunge some lingering spell. Bingley patted him on the shoulder. “I say, Darcy, are you back?”

  “Back?”

  “Is there an echo in here? I saw that you took my advice and danced a few times. Sir William Lucas was pleased that you favored his daughter. And Miss Mary Bennet was ecstatic.”

  “Oh? Miss Mary was ecstatic?”

  “See how much pleasure you can bestow with very little effort. Miss Jane Bennet was very proud of you. You made Miss Mary’s evening special.”

  “I’m glad one of the Bennet ladies likes me.”

  “Two, Darcy. At least two Bennet ladies like you.”

  “Well, the third doesn’t.”

  “Miss Catherine? Miss Lydia?”

  “No. Miss Elizabeth. She despises me.”

  “Surely not despises, Darcy. She barely knows you.”

  At that moment the men looked toward the refreshment table, where Jane and Elizabeth were in a heated discussion, occasionally glancing their way.

  “There they are together. Shall we join them?”

  “No. I told you Miss Elizabeth doesn’t want me anywhere near her. I guess I’d better clarify. She overheard my ‘tolerable’ pronouncement.”

  “Oh-h. Well, now everything makes more sense. She did momentarily step out of the line, when she was my partner for the reel, just as you came down the set with Miss Long,” Bingley acknowledged.

  “Strange that I didn’t notice.”

  “She bent down, saying that she’d snagged her hem. But now I wonder.”

  “Yes. Her hem looks quite undamaged,” Darcy smirked.

  “Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth appear to be having an altercation about something—albeit a quiet one.”

  “Yes. They are too ladylike to sling tea cakes at one another.”

  “I wonder what it’s about.”

  “I think I know,” Darcy said, grimacing.

  “Of course. You. Miss Bennet likes you since you danced with Miss Mary. She’s trying to dissuade Miss Elizabeth from her disparagement of your character.”

  “Probably.”

  “Then let’s go over and help her out. You can apologize.”

  “Very well. But I’m very much afraid she won’t accept my apology. Yet,” Darcy said, seeing how strikingly pretty Miss Elizabeth was when anger gave a rosy glow to her cheeks, “I’m willing to try.”

  The two gentlemen crossed the floor, just as the sisters began to separate. “Ladies,” said Bingley, “would you join Mr. Darcy and me in a glass of wine?”

  Elizabeth smiled at Bingley, before she turned her ire on Darcy. “I’m sure Mr. Darcy has more ‘tolerable’ things to do than drink wine with me.”

  “No, actually I do not. May I get you a glass? Do you prefer red or white? You look like a champagne aficionado to me.”

  “And you, Miss Bennet?” Bingley quickly inquired, hoping to keep Miss Elizabeth from fleeing. His life at Netherfield would be much improved, if he could somehow mend this fracture between his best friend and the beautiful Miss Bennet’s sister.

  “I’d like a glass of claret. Elizabeth?” Jane said.

  “Claret is fine,” Elizabeth agreed reluctantly, and then snippily retorted, “This isn’t London, Mr. Darcy. Meryton assemblies don’t serve champagne.”

  Darcy raced off to obtain a tray and four glasses of claret. When he returned, he could easily comprehend that Elizabeth Be
nnet was still fuming. It was now or never.

  “Miss Elizabeth, I owe you an apology. My friend Bingley was trying his best to coerce me into dancing—”

  “Seems appropriate at a dance.”

  “—which he knows full well is not one of my favorite pastimes.”

  “Then why show up at an assembly?”

  “I am here to support my friend at his new estate.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “And I was very rude to say, after a momentary glance, that you were merely ‘tolerable’, Miss Elizabeth. I can say quite candidly, after an evening of observing your effervescence and charm, that you are one of the handsomest ladies of my acquaintance. I sincerely apologize for both my misconception and my rudeness.”

  “Oh?”

  “I would truly like to dance with you, if you would be so kind as to accept my apology and my offer.”

  “Well,” Elizabeth murmured, “I guess one dance would be acceptable.”

  “Good. May I ask which you have available? I am quite at leisure myself.”

  “There are three dances remaining. I have partners for the next two. I can dance the last with you, if you wish.”

  “The last is perfection, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said and, bowing, retreated before he could cause another rift.

  “Whew!” he exclaimed, when Bingley joined him a minute later. “What an evening!”

  “You did fine, Darcy. Miss Elizabeth is a lovely lady, quite sparkling. I certainly enjoyed my dance with her. I’m sure you will also.”

  “She will find fault with me, if she can. I’m not out of the woods, by any means.”

  “Good thing then that you and I brushed up on the cotillion this past spring.”

  “Yes, I’d say so,” Darcy said, finally smiling.

  Since Miss Jane Bennet’s card was full, Darcy decided at ask Miss Kitty to dance. Perhaps he could learn some pertinent things about Miss Elizabeth during the dance. The more information he gained about her interests, the less chance there would be of his creating another debacle during their dance at the end of the evening. He was in Meryton, after all, to assist Bingley in his first venture into the realm of the landed gentry.

  Darcy had no intention of causing a neighborhood problem for his friend. Therefore, he needed to assuage the vibrant Miss Elizabeth’s dislike of himself, in order to enlist her as a partner in helping Bingley adjust to country life. He easily recognized that Elizabeth Bennet was the belle of this ball, and so assumed she could smooth Bingley’s acclimation with her spirited knowledge of the community. And now that he had jousted with her in a minor way, Darcy instinctively realized that this was a combat he himself might enjoy.

  Darcy had already seen enough of Miss Lydia, the youngest Bennet sister, whose raucous voice and flirtatious manner filled the assembly room, to know not to request a dance with her. He could easily perceive her claiming compromise right on the dance floor and laying claim to his 10,000 a year. However, Miss Kitty seemed both pretty and interesting. He hoped she had a dance free.

  “Miss Catherine,” Darcy said, bowing. “I hope you might be free for the next two dances. I believe it is a quadrille.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Darcy. But . . . “

  “Then perhaps the second to the last?”

  “Why, yes, a bourree. What fun!”

  “Excellent! Just have your partner lead you to me.”

  “I will.”

  *****

  Fitzwilliam Darcy stood on the wall and watched the flighty, flamboyant Lydia, the spontaneous Elizabeth, the ethereal Jane and the as yet unknown Kitty take their places for the quadrille across from their attentive partners. How could sisters be so diverse? And where was the studious Mary? He looked around. There she was down the wall from him. He didn’t know if requesting a second dance was appropriate in Meryton, but he would not leave the fifth Bennet sister on the wall.

  Darcy moved quickly. “Miss Mary, the dance is about to begin. We can just fit ourselves in with the three couples at the end. That is, if you will allow me the pleasure of a second dance.”

  “Why yes, Mr. Darcy, please. I would like that very much,” Mary accepted, placing her hand on his arm.

  “Good. Let’s hurry then.”

  Elizabeth stared at them as the couple passed her, heading to the far end of the crowded floor. “How astounding,” was all she could manage before her partner claimed her hand in the dance.

  Nonetheless Elizabeth constantly stared down the aisle to see Mary and Darcy enjoying the dance and each other’s company. Darcy had decided to charm Mary. Perhaps she and Jane could be compatriots in assisting him to re-establish at least a minimal stature with Elizabeth.

  Darcy soon discovered that Mary was plain only in her own eyes . . . and, well, definitely also in her habits. Her basic features were similar to Elizabeth’s. However, her pretty hazel eyes were hidden behind a pair of unprepossessing spectacles. Her hair was fashioned like that of a matron of forty. And as to her conversation—it bordered between dull and drab, causing a stifling case of ennui.

  Nevertheless Darcy could tell she had distinct potential. She was obviously smart. He refused to let her tell him about Fordyce’s sermons, instead leading the conversation to the poetry of Wordsworth and the novels of Scott. By the time their dance had ended, Darcy had convinced Mary to raid her father’s library for new reading material and to practice the sonatas of Beethoven, so he could hear her read dramatically and also play the Moonlight Sonata for him on a visit to Netherfield in the near future.

  He bowed and left her with Mr. Bennet, just as Kitty’s partner found him.

  “Well, Miss Catherine, do you read Fordyce’s Sermons also?” Darcy joked, when they took their places on the dance floor.

  “Lord, help me, no,” she laughed.

  “I don’t think that Mary will any longer either. I’ve given her enough new ideas for the next millennium.”

  “Mr. Darcy, please tell me about your estate,” Kitty said, as she began her crusade to capture a rich husband. After all, Kitty was her mother’s daughter.

  Darcy, a true proficient in avoiding the machinations of unmarried young ladies, described Pemberley, while casually eliciting all the knowledge he could in one short dance about her sister Elizabeth.

  “Elizabeth spends all her time either reading or walking . . . so boring. Oh, and she sings and plays the pianoforte too.”

  “I see. And what do you do? Reading, walking and music sound like pleasant pastimes to me—exercise, knowledge and artistic pursuits.”

  “I like to draw and paint and create scenes in my needlework. However, I like going shopping the best.”

  “What does Miss Elizabeth read, do you know?”

  “Novels, histories, poetry, agricultural journals.”

  “Really!”

  “Whatever Papa has in his library. She devours it.”

  “And her favorite music?”

  “Italian love songs for sure. Oh, and Beethoven and Mozart.”

  “And Miss Elizabeth likes to walk. Where in particular?”

  “Sometimes all the way to Oakham Mount. Other times to the stream. She likes to take off her boots and wade.”

  “And this stream?”

  “Runs between the border of Longbourn, our estate, and Mr. Bingley’s Netherfield.”

  “Oh, ho!” Darcy’s mind filled with Elizabeth crossing the rocks of the stream with her skirts held up. He happily blushed at the sight in his mind’s eye. He next envisioned her seated at the piano, singing just to him, and an Italian love ballad at that. After which, he saw the two of them moving to a love seat, lounging before a crackling fire, taking turns reading the sonnets of Shakespeare aloud.

  Kitty suddenly realized she was losing ground to Elizabeth. She flashed her eyes prettily at Darcy and batted her lashes. He didn’t notice, so intent was he on the picture of Elizabeth’s ankles, barely above the brook’s gentle flow.

  Kitty suddenly had a revelation. “Maybe I should spend
more time in Papa’s library and less in the shops of Meryton,” she thought. “What does Mr. Darcy care about a new bonnet? And Jane seldom shops and she has apparently already enchanted Mr. Bingley in one evening’s assembly.”

  She and Mr. Darcy reconnected in the dance. “Hmm,” Kitty said aloud inadvertently.

  “Yes, Miss Catherine, hmm. If you were my daughter, I’d recommend more reading and much less shopping. Oh, and a continuation of your drawing, of course.”

  “Thank you for the advice, Mr. Darcy. I think I shall heed it.”

  “That’s a wise decision for your future, Miss Catherine.”

  The dance ended and Darcy once again returned a daughter to Mr. Bennet.

  “My, my, Mr. Darcy. Any more of my daughters on your dance card tonight?” Thomas Bennet joshed.

  “Actually, sir, that is a yes—Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Elizabeth, well, well. Good luck, young man. She’s a handful.”

  “I think I already recognized that, sir. But thanks for the warning. I’d better hurry. They’re lining up already.”

  Darcy crossed the dance floor to where Elizabeth was talking to Mary. “Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary,” he said with a bow. The two sisters curtsied.

  “I believe this is our dance, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Yes,” she replied, looking askance at Mary.

  “However,” Darcy said, realizing their dual dilemma, “if you ladies prefer, we could just adjourn to some lovely tables I noticed on the veranda. I will get us all a claret or a punch.”

  Elizabeth smiled with gratitude. “Yes, could we please?”

  “Elizabeth, I . . . “ Mary began.

  “Miss Mary, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, offering an arm to each.

  Elizabeth shot Darcy the most mesmerizing smile he’d ever encountered. He actually faltered on his next step.

  Having returned with punch for three, Darcy said, “I understand that you both play the pianoforte quite delightfully. Hence I have a request.” The sisters listened intently. “Would you two ladies and Miss Bennet please come to Netherfield tomorrow evening for dinner, so that I can hear you perform afterwards?”

  He’d not checked this invitation with his own host, the owner of Netherfield, of course, since the idea was an inspiration of the moment. However, having included the eldest Bennet daughter in the request, Darcy had no qualms about Bingley’s hearty approval.