Ardently Read online

  ARDENTLY

  A PRIDE AND PREJUDICE VARIATION

  CAITLIN WILLIAMS

  KINDLE EDITION

  Copyright © 2015 Caitlin Williams

  Cover Design: © 2015 Caitlin Williams. Cover Photo: © L Roberts

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All characters and events in this publication are fictitious or are used fictitiously and any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal use only and may not be sold or given away to others.

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Longbourn, May 1813

  At the Bennet family breakfast table, an oval mahogany affair, which over the years had seen many exclamations of joy, tears and tantrums, there was an unusual lack of noise. Longbourn, being a house of five daughters and one very excitable mistress, was often cacophonous. Now, though, only the rustle of a newspaper as it was turned, studied and folded carefully by Mr Bennet, occasionally broke the silence.

  There were two other readers in the room. Jane Bennet had received a letter; the sentiments it contained were doing much to soften and warm her already lovely features. Mary Bennet sat with a book in her lap, a sententious and dull tome. Her sisters and mother were all secretly wishing she was not planning on reading aloud from it later, after dinner, as was sometimes her habit.

  Kitty Bennet yawned.

  There was a clink of china as Mrs Bennet drank her coffee and set her cup down again afterwards. She had a distinct lack of news to impart; no recent scandals, no new young gentlemen in the neighbourhood to speculate upon and no balls to plan for. She was at a rare loss for words.

  Elizabeth Bennet gazed out of the window and wished she had taken a longer morning walk. Longbourn felt very dull and she could not think of a single thing she might do that day to pique her interest, or lift her spirits. “How is your letter, Jane?” she asked her sister. Jane tore her gaze away from the sheets in front of her for a few moments to smile at Elizabeth in response, but she said nothing.

  “When you reply, Jane, you must be sure to mention the setting of a date,” Mrs Bennet instructed her eldest daughter.

  “Mamma, you know very well the reason for our delay,” Jane replied with a quick, nervous glance at her father.

  Mrs Bennet sniffed.

  Elizabeth picked up her fork and considered the food on it for a few moments, before laying it back down again on her plate, too apathetic even to eat.

  Kitty yawned again.

  Mrs Bennet scolded her for not covering her mouth.

  Mr Bennet’s paper turned again and the minutes ticked by slowly.

  Elizabeth stared out of the window once more and watched the progress of a low grey cloud in the distance, until her father’s voice unexpectedly interrupted her thoughts.

  “There is an announcement in the paper regarding your old adversary Mr Darcy, Lizzy,” Mr Bennet said over his spectacles, which were perched precariously on the end of his nose.

  Elizabeth was startled at the mention of the name and as much as she wanted to be disinterested, she could not be; not after all that had passed between that particular gentleman and herself. “He was hardly an adversary, sir.”

  “Well, whatever. You were not exactly the best of friends were you? It says here he is married. ‘On 4th May, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire, married to Anne de Bourgh, daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park, Kent’. It was the match he was supposed to make, was it not? I am surprised I have not had an account of it from my cousin Mr Collins.”

  Elizabeth felt Jane’s gaze upon her but would not meet it. Her sister was still her only confidante; the only person at the table who knew Mr Darcy had once made Elizabeth an offer of marriage, almost exactly a year ago now. She turned instead towards her father. “Our cousin is probably still penning it. It may take him several weeks, for it is sure to contain much detail, including the cost of everything and the value of nothing.”

  “Too true,” chuckled Mr Bennet. “No doubt, I shall hear much more of it in good time than I should ever have wished to know.”

  “I never liked that Mr Darcy,” Mrs Bennet remarked. “Always fancying himself so important; so proud and disagreeable. What of the new Mrs Darcy, Lizzy? What was she like? Did you not meet her in Kent?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I did. I am afraid I cannot offer much of an opinion. Her health was not good. She was very quiet. I was there for several weeks and I do not think I exchanged more than ten words with her.”

  “Too ill to speak was she? Probably just proud too, like him, I daresay. Well, they are well suited then.”

  Mr Bennet threw the newspaper aside and reached for a letter he had read and discarded earlier. He waved it at the table. “Although I have not heard from Mr Collins, my sister is a better and more welcome correspondent. She has suggested one of my daughters might like to visit and keep her company for some months.”

  “I will not send one of my daughters so far north just for Mrs Mountford’s benefit, Mr Bennet. I have heard it is very rugged country. Who knows what may befall them there!”

  “It is Staffordshire, Mrs Bennet, not the wilds of Africa. I am pleased that, since her husband’s passing, some efforts have been made on both sides towards reconciliation. I find I am not opposed to the idea. She has a pretty little estate, I believe. One of the girls might enjoy such a visit.”

  “Papa, I confess I would much rather remain at Longbourn. It is within an easy distance of London and…”

  Mr Bennet cut short Jane’s protest. “Yes, yes. You want to be somewhere your intended may visit you, I understand. I had no intention of sending you, Jane. I was thinking this might be of benefit to Mary.”

  All eyes turned to Mary, who not having attended to the conversation was quite surprised to find so much focus upon her. “Excuse me, Father?”

  “Your aunt, Mrs Mountford, has requested the pleasure of some company and I wondered if you might consider a visit there?”

  “You mean to go on my own? To a lady I have never met!” Beneath her spectacles, Mary’s eyes widened in horror at the idea.

  “It will do you much good, my child, to strike out on your own path, away from your sisters and home; to broaden your experiences.”

  “Oh no, sir, I would not wish it. Please.”

  “Well, I feel it would be wrong to refuse the invitation completely, when such efforts have been made to patch up the connection. Kitty, may I tempt you?”

  Kitty pulled a face and shook her head vehemently, “companion to an old lady, no thank you.”

  “Old lady,” her father protested, “I shall have you know she is my younger sister.”

  Elizabeth sighed and decided to offer before she was inevitably asked. “I
shall go, Father. You may write and tell Mrs Mountford to expect me.”

  “But, my dear, you have only just returned from the Lake District, after your tour with Mr and Mrs Gardiner.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “That was almost eight months ago, Papa, last summer!”

  “Was it now? How time flies. Are you sure, Lizzy?”

  “Yes, quite sure, I should like to meet your sister and I would welcome a change of scene.”

  If Mrs Bennet had to lose a daughter for a few months, she would always choose Elizabeth, so her agreement was soon easily won and the plan became a fixed thing. Mr Bennet spoke to his daughter in the warmest terms of his sister and Mary and Kitty were very grateful to her for having spared them the nuisance of going.

  Later in the day, on passing the music room, Jane found her sister picking out a complicated, sombre piece on the pianoforte in the music room. She sat next to Elizabeth on the seat before the instrument, without a word, until she had finished. “I shall miss you, Lizzy.”

  “Aye, and I you. Yet I confess, Jane, that I feel a great desire to be away doing something. I cannot always be at Longbourn. I have walked every path many hundreds of times. I have read every book in papa’s library. I might sew and practice, but I find myself restless. I do not have clear sight of a future, as you do.”

  “Maybe you will find life just as quiet in Staffordshire.”

  “Perhaps, but I do not go to prison, Jane. I may come home whenever I wish. I shall certainly return home for any happy events. I hope you and your Mr Turner do not have to wait too long.”

  “He expects an improvement in his circumstances very soon and has already begun his search for a home for us. He said so in his letter.”

  Elizabeth smiled and squeezed her hand. “Well, that is news to make even your most cynical sister happy. Why did you not tell our mother this morning?”

  “Is it wrong of me not to have done so? I know how she will be. There will be such talk of wedding clothes, lace and furniture. I am not sure I could bear it just yet, Lizzy, before there is an actual date. Is it ungenerous of me?”

  “No, I am all agreement. Preserve your sanity and keep your own counsel.” Elizabeth was thoughtful for a while. “How are you so certain of Mr Turner? Your life with him will not be as comfortable as it is here.”

  “No, he is not wealthy, but he is a determined and clever man, handsome and kind. I confess nothing gives me greater pleasure than his company. I could talk to him all day. He makes me laugh, as you do and when he holds my hand…”

  Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, “when he holds your hand?”

  Jane shook her head.

  “Oh, Jane! How I am to live vicariously through you when you give me no details?”

  “I will give you this detail, my dear sister. To me he is the best of men. I love him.”

  “He is certainly a persistent man; to have been refused by papa two times and still to try once more! His devotion to you certainly makes him a favourite with me.” Elizabeth began to play again from memory, a soft sweet tune.

  “May I ask,” Jane ventured, “what you thought of the news of Mr Darcy’s marriage?”

  Elizabeth faltered, played a wrong note, but quickly recovered. “What is it to me?”

  “Oh nothing, except it might have been your name next to his in the paper, if you had accepted him.”

  “He has done what he ought to do. He has married a woman whose connections will not embarrass him; whose position in society and fortune will complement his.” Elizabeth bit her lip and when she spoke again there was hardness to her tone. “There is no ‘degradation’ to be suffered, for which I am sure he is exceedingly grateful.”

  “Elizabeth,” Jane touched her arm. “You do not suffer from something like regret, I hope.”

  “I regret, perhaps,…no, I do not regret. Rather, I am unhappy that I once misjudged him so badly, as regards Mr Wickham, and I hope he does not despise me for rejecting him so bluntly, so rudely. But I cannot regret my refusal, Jane, can I? I cannot envy the new Mrs Darcy her taciturn and haughty husband. I would not have been content in such a marriage, with a husband I did not respect or love. Though, I do confess to being a little jealous of your happiness,” she said, in an effort to change the subject.

  “You know, I will never be truly happy until I see you likewise.” Jane tucked an errant curl of Elizabeth’s back into its rightful place. “What shall we do with you, Lizzy? If only I could find a man as good as Mr Turner for you.”

  “Jane, if you were to give me forty such men, I never could be as happy as you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I can never have your happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may in time meet with another Mr Collins.”

  Jane laughed and shook her head again.

  “Until then,” Elizabeth went on, “you might as well send me to Staffordshire. What harm can I do there?”

  One

  Bath, in the Spring of 1816, was well supplied with society. The Finchley-Moors had come first, followed by the Potters, the Dalrymples, the Eversleys and then so many Ladies, Lords and other nobility, that there seemed to be a danger of the grander parts of town not being able to accommodate the amount of grand personages clamouring to be housed there.

  Mrs Mountford, in her usual capable way, had secured for herself and her niece, a smart townhouse in Laura Place for the duration of their own stay. She had amazed and bemused her acquaintance in being able to do so both at such short notice, and with very little inconvenience to anyone. Only two Fridays ago they had been sat by the fire at Oakdene in Staffordshire, with Mrs Mountford reading from the society pages and laughing at the absurdity of some news from Bath. When Elizabeth had casually mentioned she had never seen the place, Mrs Mountford had exclaimed loudly and deemed this a terrible oversight that should be immediately remedied. Within five short days expresses had been sent and received, trunks packed and carriages arranged. And now they found themselves taking a turn around the Pump Room as if they had been there many weeks already.

  “Who is the lady in the green feathers who pretends not to know you?”

  “Hmmm?” Elizabeth glanced quickly across the room before answering her aunt. “Oh, tis Caroline Bingley, as was, she may now be married of course. I have not seen her above four years.”

  “I saw no cap,” replied her aunt.

  “Does nothing escape your notice, madam?”

  “I should hope not. When I stop noticing these things, please bury me.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “She is the sister of a man who once paid Jane a great deal of attention. Mr Bingley was quite taken, until his friends and relations persuaded him that Jane was decidedly beneath him.”

  “Did they? Indeed! And who is the young lady with her?”

  “I have no idea.” Elizabeth glanced quickly again and examined Miss Bingley’s companion - a tall, fair, well-dressed girl, with a comely figure, who could not be more than twenty. She was no great beauty but there was a quiet prettiness about her, marred slightly by an awkward self-consciousness.

  They continued walking while Elizabeth watched Mrs Mountford with amusement. Her aunt was quite something to behold. She made it her business to know everybody; her dress and manners were faultless and though now well over fifty, she was still handsome. She waved and nodded where necessary, gave due attention to rank without servitude and spoke with distinction, but no condescension, except to those who proved themselves ridiculous. She gave no false sentiments.

  It had been almost three years since Elizabeth had left Longbourn for her aunt’s house, for what should have been a visit of no more than two months. Although they had been strangers on arrival, aunt and niece soon found in each other such a similarity of tastes, ideas and humour, that they had become the truest of friends. Two months had turned into three, four months into five. Elizabeth had returned to Longbourn for Jane’s wedding to Mr Turner, and then a year later for Kitty’s to the local curate, but she was
always asked back by her aunt, and always went readily to Staffordshire. Somehow, a shift of perception had occurred in Elizabeth’s heart, and as much as she remembered Longbourn with affection and missed her dear father, the word ‘home’ was now synonymous with her aunt and Oakdene.

  “So tell me what you make of Bath and its famous Pump Room, my dear?”

  Elizabeth looked up at the high ceiling and admired the intricate carving. The room was spacious and airy, large windows adorned two of the walls and flooded the area with light. The highly polished floorboards squeaked under the feet of the gentility that walked them. “Tis very odd, Aunt. This walking around in circles, nodding at ones acquaintance rather than saying our hellos, and the water is quite foul.”

  “Well yes, but they say if it wasn’t so awful, it would not be half as good for you. Everything that tastes nice is bad for you and everything that tastes awful is sure to see you healthy, it is God’s little joke.”

  “I do like the arrivals book.” Elizabeth and Mrs Mountford had just added their own names to the large volume that stood on a gilt stand next to the water tap. “What a useful idea; so you can know, with some certainty, which of your acquaintance are in town.”

  “Yes, and you also might discover who is here that you should wish to avoid! We shall come back tomorrow and have a proper sight of it. We’ll make note of the crushing bores and the whining women, and do our very best to dodge them.”

  There was then a bustle and excited whisper in the room, heralding the entrance of the Viscountess Winslow. Mrs Mountford stopped walking and waited until she was approached by the great lady. Only then did she curtsey. Elizabeth followed suit, sinking low and moving slightly behind her aunt to give preference, but she was brought up and forward by the Viscountess, who affectionately pressed a hand to her cheek. “How lovely Elizabeth looks today, Mrs Mountford, such bright eyes.”

  “Yes, I think Bath agrees with her. We are hoping to be much amused, and have plays and concerts lined up aplenty, Lady Winslow.”

  “Well, I hope you will not be too much engaged or you will not have time to visit your friends. We are having cards and supper soon. I will make sure you receive my invitation. Where do you stay?”