Prevailed On To Marry (A Pride and Prejudice Alternative Story) Read online

  ‘I insist,’ said Mr Collins. ‘I will instruct the servant to bring you something on a tray in your room, but you must not leave your room until morning. By then, we will know whether you are really ill. If so, we will send for the physician. If not, you will be pleased to know you did not risk the health of your friends and you will be free to join us again in our daily activities.’

  Elizabeth did not protest any further. It had just occurred to her that if she took to her room, she would not have to see anything more of Mr Collins that day. His company was something of a trial to her and she would be glad to have a respite. Ordinarily she could overlook his stupidity but today she felt it would be better if she was out of his way. Besides, she had some letters to write, and if she wrote them in her room then she would not be disturbed.

  ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I will retire to my room. Please give Lady Catherine my compliments and send her my apologies.’

  ‘We will, we will,’ said Mr Collins. He turned to Charlotte. ‘And now you had better get ready. We must set out before long and it does not to do to keep Lady Catherine waiting.’

  The ladies went upstairs, Elizabeth to write her letters, and Charlotte and Maria to put on their outdoor clothes.

  ‘Do you really think you might be coming down with a fever, Lizzy?’ asked Charlotte. ‘I only ask because I want to know if I need be concerned. If you are truly ill, I will stay here with you, no matter what Mr Collins might say.’

  ‘I will stay, too, if you need me,’ said Maria.

  ‘Thank you, but it is just a headache. I would prefer to spend a quiet evening by myself.’

  ‘Then we will leave you to enjoy your solitude. The servants will be glad to help you if you need anything, but I will tell them not to disturb you unless you call for them.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Elizabeth, giving her friend a hug.

  Charlotte and Maria left the room and Elizabeth went over to her night table, where she took up her quill and began to write a letter to her sister Jane.

  Chapter Three

  Mr Darcy was looking forward to seeing Elizabeth again. No matter how much he tried to convince Colonel Fitzwilliam that he did not care for her, and no matter how much he tried to convince himself of the same thing, the fact remained that he was deeply attracted to her.

  Instead of feeling thankful that at last he had found a young lady he cared about, however, he was so proud that he merely felt aggrieved. She was beneath him, and he despised himself for caring about her.

  When he was a child, his parents had made him so conscious of his exalted position in life that not even Miss Elizabeth’s sparkling eyes could cure him of his conceit.

  And yet despite all this, he could not help looking forward to seeing her. He wondered what she would have to say for herself today. She always had some new and witty remark to make, some different way of looking at life which would amuse him despite himself, and some clever comment that would have him chortling inwardly, even if he was too stiff-necked to chortle outwardly.

  He wondered which gown she would wear and which style she would choose for her hair. He particularly liked her white muslin gown edged with lace because it set off the lustrous dark brown of her hair and the deep glints of gold in her eyes. He liked her hair best when she wore it with a looser chignon, with little curls arranged around her face. They danced most engagingly when she laughed, and she laughed often because she was such a good-humoured young lady. In fact, he had never met anyone so good-humoured and just thinking about her made an unwilling smile tug at the corners of his haughty mouth.

  He heard the carriage arrive and knew it contained the rectory party, for Lady Catherine had sent the carriage for them. She was very attentive in practical matters, even if she did like to play the high and mighty lady of the manor with all and sundry. In Mr Collins she had found a most grateful recipient of her condescension, and his fulsome thanks and praises satisfied even Lady Catherine’s notions of what was due to her rank.

  The door of the drawing-room opened and Mr Darcy stood up politely. Beside him, Colonel Fitzwilliam stood up also, and Mr Darcy found himself sneaking a sideways glance at the colonel to see if he was really as besotted with Miss Elizabeth as he appeared. For Mr Darcy could not help the green-eyed monster, jealousy, rising whenever he thought of the colonel paying attention to Miss Elizabeth.

  But to his surprise, Miss Elizabeth did not enter the room. Instead, Mr Collins made ridiculously effusive apologies and said that Miss Elizabeth had a headache.

  Mr Darcy felt an irrational fear clutching his vitals. He could not bear to think of Miss Elizabeth being in pain. She was so vivacious and lively that the thought of her being brought low by a headache caused every anxious thought to rise before him. Had she had a fall and hit her head? Did she have a concussion? Ought he to send to London for his surgeon to come and examine her? Or was her headache a sign she was sickening for something, in which case he should send for his physician?

  But Mrs Collins was speaking. In answer to Lady Catherine’s enquiries, she was saying that Miss Elizabeth was otherwise well, and that no doubt her head would have recovered by morning.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. It was just a temporary thing, then, and he need not be concerned.

  But no matter how much he told himself it was only a trifling matter, he could not stop thinking about it. He scarcely heard anything that was passing between his aunt and her guests. The trivial conversation could not hold his attention and he kept thinking about Miss Elizabeth. All through tea he thought about her, while he absent-mindedly picked up his cup and held it to his lips, putting it down again without drinking. When at last tea was over, his cousin Anne was persuaded to play the pianoforte and his thoughts were free to wander. And wander they did, right down to the rectory, where Miss Elizabeth was sitting all alone. He could not bear to think of her being lonely, and ill, and having no one to talk to, and so as soon as he could politely do so he excused himself.

  ‘Where can you be going, Darcy?’ asked his aunt in the most inquisitive fashion.

  She always had to know where everyone was going and what they were doing.

  ‘I promised to see Sir Thomas about a horse,’ he said. Sir Thomas Milsom was one of Lady Catherine’s neighbours and he bred horses. ‘He tells me he has a very fine stallion I ought to see. I have been wanting a new horse for some time and so I promised I would go and take a look at it. I will not be long.’

  ‘In that case, I will call the carriage,’ said Lady Catherine.

  ‘There is no need. I would like to walk.’

  ‘Oh, very well, but remember we dine at six and I expect you back for dinner,’ said Lady Catherine ungraciously.

  Mr Darcy bowed and left the room.

  He went across the magnificent hall and then out of the stately front door. He could not stop thinking about Miss Elizabeth. His memory roved over their entire history together, from their meeting at the Meryton assembly about six months previously, to the last time they had seen each other, the previous day.

  As he thought about her health, his turbulent thoughts went through a variety of stages. He began by worrying about her, which led him to acknowledge his finer feelings for her. This in turn led him to think about Colonel Fitzwilliam’s suggestion he should marry her.

  Preposterous! he thought, as he reached the end of the drive and turned in the direction of the rectory. I cannot marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

  But was it really so preposterous? His cousin was right, he was a wealthy man and he could do as he pleased. If he wanted to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet then he could do so. She would undoubtedly accept him – how could anyone refuse him? He could be betrothed in an hour and he could be married before the summer was out.

  He thought of Miss Elizabeth in a pure white silk gown, walking down the aisle in the Pemberley church, with a lace veil over her face and a bouquet of roses held in her white-gloved hands. He felt all the feelings of a bridegroom as he imagined her smiling
up at him as she joined him at the altar, and he practically heard the hymns as the service began.

  He could make this fantasy reality, and all he had to do was propose.

  She would accept with alacrity. In fact, she was probably expecting him to propose. She had certainly been encouraging him. She had been provocative when she had been staying at Netherfield, when she had refused to dance attendance on him, like Miss Bingley. She had suggested Miss Bingley tease him, and when Miss Bingley had been unequal to the task, Miss Elizabeth had shown that she was fully equal to it. She had been most impertinent, but oh! how it had brought out the sparkle in her eyes. And then again, at the Netherfield ball, she had excited him with her insouciance. Instead of fawning over him, as every other lady had done, she had pretended to be indifferent to him.

  A moment of doubt assailed him. Had she only been pretending to be indifferent to him?

  He remembered her attitude to George Wickham and he grew jealous. She had seemed very taken with George Wickham. Had she really liked George, or had she simply used him to attract the better man? To make Mr Darcy jealous and provoke him into proposing?

  Yes, that must be it!

  All those saucy remarks, all those shafts of brilliance from her fine eyes, all that talk of George Wickham, had been meant to make him jealous, so that she could become Mrs Darcy of Pemberley.

  In his pride and his arrogance he really believed this.

  He had a good mind not to propose, just to foil her plans. After all, he had every reason not to propose. Her awful family would drag him down in the eyes of his friends, his relatives and his neighbours.

  Mr Bennet was intelligent enough, but he did not put his powers to good use and let his daughters run wild. Only the oldest two were saved from disaster by their own innate goodness, but the younger three were almost beyond repair.

  Her mother was even worse. She was silly and vulgar and thought of nothing but finding husbands for her daughters. How she could crow when Miss Elizabeth caught Mr Darcy of Pemberley!

  He had worked himself up into such a state by the time he reached the rectory that his proposal was already forming itself on his lips, but in such a way that no gentleman should ever propose. He was ready to tell her that it would be degrading for him to marry her, that his own better judgement told him he should not do it, that he would be condemned by everyone who knew him if he married her, and that the only reason he was prepared to do it was because he could not live without her.

  And that was true enough. He had had experience of trying to live without her and he had failed. The only thing he had managed to do without her was to exist. Oh, he had carried on in the usual manner. He had been a good landlord and a good brother and a good friend. He had attended to business and gone about his daily routine. But his heart had not been in it, because his heart had been elsewhere, with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

  He went up the path and rapped on the rectory door.

  He waited impatiently until he heard footsteps on the other side of the door and a minute later the servant opened it.

  ‘I am here to see Miss Bennet,’ he said, almost forcing his way inside, so eager was he to see her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sir,’ said the servant, as she opened the door to let him into the hall. ‘Miss Bennet is not to be disturbed.’

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  ‘Not to be disturbed?’ he repeated, momentarily at a loss.

  ‘No, Sir. She is feeling poorly and she has retired to her room. I have strict instructions that she is not to be disturbed and I dare not disobey them.’

  Mr Darcy stared at her.

  All his plans, all his preparation, all his rehearsal of what he was going to say – all wasted. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was not to be disturbed.

  ‘I’m very sorry, Sir,’ said the servant.

  Mr Darcy pulled himself together, for the servant was looking at him curiously and he did not want to be the subject of gossip.

  ‘It is no matter,’ he said, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘My aunt, Lady Catherine, was concerned that is all. Pray give Miss Bennet Lady Catherine’s best wishes for a speedy recovery and tell her that Lady Catherine hopes to see her at Rosings Park again when she is well.’

  ‘Yes, Sir. I’ll tell the young lady. I’m sure she’ll be very grateful for Lady Catherine’s concern.’

  Mr Darcy nodded. Then he gave a formal bow and the servant showed him out.

  He walked down the road scarcely seeing anything around him. He felt numb with all his confused and confusing feelings. He had been about to propose to Miss Elizabeth Bennet – yes! he had actually been about to propose.

  How fortunate that she had retired to her room. That simple action had saved him from making a catastrophic mistake. Just think, if she had been in the parlour, he would have burst in and made her a proposal that no gentleman should ever make to a lady. Even worse, he would have betrothed himself to a young woman of inferior birth and negligible fortune, who would, by now, have congratulated herself on landing one of the most eligible bachelors in the country.

  How she would have crowed about it to her friends! How she would have replayed the scene for Mr and Mrs Collins! How she would have told her family everything about it! She would have told them she had brought the great Mr Darcy low, making him forget what he owed to his family, all because of her saucy nature and her remarkably fine eyes!

  He ran his hand across his brow, shaking his head and heaving a deep sigh as he thought of what a fool he had almost made of himself.

  He had not just been a fool, he had been mad! Yes, completely mad! What had come over him?

  As he thought about it, he realised that a mixture of concern for her health, jealousy of Colonel Fitzwilliam and his own undeniable attraction had almost made him commit an act of the gravest folly.

  He had only been saved by the fact that Miss Elizabeth had taken to her room.

  Thank goodness for that!

  Already the madness was passing.

  The cool spring air, the sight of the spring blossoms and the daffodils and the scent of new-mown grass combined to restore him to his proper state of mind. As he walked briskly up the drive, the sound of gravel crunching beneath his boots was a reassuringly normal sound. The gardeners were tending the flower beds, digging out the weeds and making all tidy. The deer were grazing under the trees. This was real. This was normal, not the feverish imaginings of the last hour.

  He breathed in deeply. As his pulse began to return to normal he felt as if he were waking from a dream – a mad, feverish dream. He had almost forgotten everything that was due to his family name, his standing in the county and his undoubted fortune. He had almost thrown it all to the winds for the love of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

  Love! He laughed at himself. He looked about him at his aunt’s grand estate and reminded himself of the practicalities of life. As if love had anything to do with marriage! His parents had taught him, early on in life, that love and marriage did not go together. Marriage was altogether too serious a business to be confused with love. It was about preserving property and combining wealth and maintaining social standing – all perfectly sensible reasons for proposing, and for being accepted.

  Yes, he had been taught that from his earliest days and he had believed it.

  He still believed it, he told himself fiercely. Nothing else made sense. It certainly did not make sense to put all those considerations aside and marry for love.

  And yet, for the first time in his life, he began to think that marrying for sensible reasons was, itself, not sensible; that he did not need a marriage to preserve his property or his wealth or his social standing. And that even if he did, he would still prefer to marry a woman with remarkably fine eyes and an irresistible smile who set his soul on fire.

  He stopped walking and stood in thought.

  Miss Elizabeth, what have you done to me? he thought. You have turned my world upside down and I do not know if I will ever be the same.

  Chapter
Four

  Elizabeth was glad to find herself alone in the rectory, apart from the servants. She took her time and wrote her sister a long letter, giving her all the little snippets of news that Jane would like to hear. She did not say anything about Mr Bingley, of course, but she said plenty about the Rosings neighbourhood and all the new friends she had made in the village. At last she finished her letter. She sanded it and folded the paper, then wrote the address on the outside.

  As she finished, she happened to glance out of the window and she saw Mr Darcy walking away from the rectory. She was astonished! What had he been doing at the rectory? Did he think that Mr Collins was here? No, surely not. He must know that Mr Collins was at Rosings. Then why had he come?

  Curiosity got the better of her and she decided to take the letter downstairs so that she could leave it on the hall table, ready to be posted in the morning. Once downstairs, she could ask the servant about Mr Darcy’s visit. Mr Collins might have told her to rest in her bedchamber, and she might have been pleased to go along with his suggestion at the time since it would relieve her of him presence, but Mr Collins was out and she had no qualms about going downstairs in his absence.

  When she reached the hall, she put her letter on the table and then went into the small parlour. She rang the bell and asked the servant to bring her some tea.

  ‘Very good, Miss. Shall I bring it to you in your room?’ asked the servant.

  ‘No, thank you,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I will take it here.’

  The servant curtseyed and was about to leave when Elizabeth said, ‘Have there been any callers while Mr Collins has been away?’

  ‘Yes, Miss. Mr Darcy was here.’

  ‘Oh?’ Elizabeth made her voice nonchalant. ‘What did he want?’

  ‘He came to give you Lady Catherine’s compliments and her best wishes for your speedy recovery,’ said the servant.

  Elizabeth was surprised. She was sure Lady Catherine had not sent Mr Darcy down to the rectory to wish her well, so why had he really come? It was a mystery. And one which, at the moment, she had no hope of solving.