A Companion For Miss Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 2

  Mr Darcy made allowances, too. If she were not Mr Bingley’s sister then he would not mix in her company. As it was, he often had to spend time with her. But it was a small problem, after all.

  The butler came in to ask if Mr Bingley would be staying to dinner and both gentlemen were glad of the interruption. It broke their chain of thought and the awkward moment passed.

  ‘Will you be ready to set off first thing in the morning?’ asked Mr Bingley. ‘I have some small matters of business I need to take care of in town before I go but I will have completed them by the morning.’

  ‘I will be ready,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘I will give my servants their instructions. My valet will have everything packed and the grooms will have the horses and carriage ready by nine o’clock. We will take my equipage. It will be quicker and more comfortable than yours.’

  To anyone who did not know him, this speech might have sounded arrogant. But Mr Bingley knew him well, and he knew that his friend was simply speaking the truth. The Darcy carriage was not only well made by the finest coach makers, but it had all those little touches of luxury that only the very wealthy could afford. It had deeply padded seats upholstered in velvet, with velvet curtains at the windows. It had leather straps hanging from the ceiling above the windows so that passengers could grasp them when the coach went briskly down steep hills. It was spacious, with plenty of room for the tall Mr Darcy to stretch out his long legs. Outside, it was just as luxurious. The coachman’s box was roomy, with plenty of space for a footman to sit beside him. The running boards were broad so that the footmen could stand there with ease. The coach was usually pulled by four horses, although six could be accommodated, and it was always accompanied by outriders who went on ahead and paid the tolls so that Mr Darcy was not held up by these practicalities on his journeys.

  Travelling with Mr Darcy was travelling in style!

  ‘Good,’ said Mr Bingley. ‘We should be able to cover the twenty-four miles to Meryton tomorrow morning without difficulty. I will send an express to the agent, telling him that we will view Netherfield in the afternoon. I will send an express to the inn at the same time, so they will have rooms ready for us when we arrive.’

  The two men parted, agreeing to meet again on the following morning. Mr Bingley would arrive at Darcy House first thing and the two men would breakfast together before setting out.

  Chapter Two

  Miss Elizabeth Bennet was wandering round the garden at Longbourn, taking a sad leave of all the corners that she so loved. She had lived there all her life, and had expected to live there for many more years. But her parents had been killed in a tragic carriage accident and now her future was uncertain. Her parents’ death had come as a shock. Mr Bennet had been a relatively young man, not much more than fifty, and he had always been in good health. Mrs Bennet had suffered from her nerves but otherwise she had been healthy. But with the accident, Elizabeth had lost her father and mother in one moment. Now she was to lose her home, too. Longbourn was entailed on the male line and it had passed to Mr Collins, her father’s cousin. She had never met him. He had been unable to attend the funeral because of a minor indisposition. However, he had promised to wait upon them as soon as he had recovered.

  The time had come. He was now in good health and he was to call upon them that very afternoon. He was allowing her and her four sisters to remain at Longbourn until the end of the year because he was taking holy orders, and he wanted to finish his studies. Then he wanted some time to think about his future: whether to fulfil his ambition of becoming a clergyman, or whether to take up the life of a country squire instead.

  Elizabeth’s uncle and aunt, Mr and Mrs Philips, had moved into Longbourn temporarily to chaperon the girls. But Elizabeth knew that, once Mr Collins was ready to move into the property, she and her sisters would have to leave.

  She knew it must come sooner or later and so she was saying goodbye to all the places she loved. In every corner there were memories. The lawns reminded her of years gone by, when, as a young child, she had held her sister Lydia’s hand as Lydia had learned to toddle. She had sat beneath the spreading chestnut tree in the middle of the lawn, making clothes for her younger sisters’ dolls. She had stitched sober grey gowns for Mary’s dolls, who always seemed to be governesses, and more frivolous gowns for Kitty and Lydia’s dolls, who were always going to balls. She smiled as she remembered it. There had been dolls’ tea parties on bright summer days that had seemed as if they would never end.

  She strolled into the pretty little wilderness where she had played hide and seek with her sisters in years gone by and then she went into the rose garden. The roses were still in bloom and the garden was very pretty. The pond was glinting in the sunlight and the fish were darting between the weeds in the water. There was a seat next to the pond and Elizabeth sat down, thinking of the future.

  ‘Lizzy!’

  Her sister Jane’s voice brought her out of her gloomy thoughts. Elizabeth could not help but smile at the sight of her beautiful elder sister walking across the lawn towards her. Jane was a vision of loveliness. Her fair hair was gleaming and her lithe figure was displayed to great advantage by her simple muslin gown.

  ‘I thought I would find you here,’ said Jane, as she sat down beside her sister.

  ‘So you, too, felt a need to get away,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Our Aunt Philips has been very good to us, but sometimes her chatter is hard to bear. She talks of nothing but getting husbands and I confess I find it tiring. Today she has been worse than usual. She is determined that one of us should marry Mr Collins, so that we can all remain at Longbourn.’

  Their Aunt Philips was their mother’s sister, and very like Mrs Bennet in personality. It had been very kind of her to move into Longbourn with Mr Philips, to give the girls countenance, but her company could be trying. Elizabeth was glad she would not have to live with her Aunt Philips. When they had to leave Longbourn, the three younger girls would go to live with Mr and Mrs Philips in Meryton, whilst Jane and Elizabeth would go to live with their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner in London.

  ‘She says only what must be said,’ replied Jane. She spoke in her usual mild and gentle manner. ‘We must all find husbands sooner or later, and our aunt is right to make sure we are aware of it. If Mr Collins shows a preference for one of us, then we must encourage him, as she says.’

  ‘You do not believe that any more than I do,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You will not encourage Mr Collins and neither will I, unless one of us happens to fall in love with him. We both want to marry for love. We have talked about it often enough.’

  ‘That was before . . . before our parents died,’ said Jane, with a catch in her throat. Her beautiful mouth turned down at the corners and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. ‘But now things are different. Our aunts have been very kind in offering us homes when the time comes for us to leave Longbourn, but we cannot trespass on their hospitality for ever. They are not poor, but neither are they rich. I know my Uncle Philips is worried about the cost of looking after Mary, Kitty and Lydia.’

  ‘He has never said so,’ remarked Elizabeth, looking at her sister in surprise.

  ‘I heard him talking to my aunt about it,’ said Jane. ‘The drawing-room window was open and I heard them as I passed by on my way to pick some herbs. Our Uncle Philips is only an attorney and although he and my aunt will always provide our sisters with a home, it will cause them some hardship. I fear it is the same with our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. They are richer than Aunt and Uncle Philips, I know, but they have their own four children to think about. It is not easy for them to suddenly have to look after two more children.’

  ‘You and I are not children,’ Elizabeth reminded her. ‘We are both young ladies.’

  ‘That is true. And as young ladies we must do our duty and marry. Mr Collins hinted that he would like to make amends for inheriting the house when he wrote to Aunt Philips recently. She thinks he means to marry one of us. If he likes me then I will do my duty and encourage him . .
. within the limits of decorum, of course.’

  ‘No,’ said Elizabeth firmly. ‘Jane, you are to do no such thing. It is too great a sacrifice.’

  She took her sister’s hand as she said it. She could not bear the thought of sweet, lovely Jane having to do it.

  ‘But if I marry him, our home will be secure,’ said Jane patiently. ‘He and I will live at Longbourn, and all my sisters will be welcome. It is not a sacrifice for me to help my sisters. We can then all go on as before.’

  ‘We will not go on as before. You will be married to a man you do not love,’ protested Elizabeth vehemently.

  ‘Who knows? If he is an agreeable man I might love him, or I might come to love him in time, after we are married. But whatever happens, my mind is made up, Lizzy. Marrying Mr Collins is our best protection from want and our best security for the future. If Mr Collins proposes to me, then it is my duty to accept him.’

  ‘I would sooner take a job as a governess than let you do so!’ declared Elizabeth with passion.

  ‘If Mr Collins does not like me, then it may come to that for all of us,’ said Jane soberly. ‘There are few options for impoverished gentlewomen, for that is what we are now. Seeking employment as a governess or a companion is our only alternative to marriage, unless we are content to burden our relatives with expenses they can ill afford.’

  Elizabeth squeezed Jane’s hand with sisterly affection.

  ‘Oh, Jane, I never thought it would come to this. I used to laugh at Mama when she fussed about the future, but it seems she was right to be concerned after all. It is only a year since we were all living here so happily, but now the future looks bleak. Unless . . .’ Elizabeth’s usual optimistic temperament started to reassert itself. ‘Unless Mr Collins decides not to live here after all. We must encourage him not to waste his talents and his education, but to go ahead with his original plan to become a clergyman,’ she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. ‘We must tell him that the church needs him, and that we will manage the estate for him whilst he follows his calling!’

  Jane laughed.

  ‘I am so glad to have you as a sister,’ she said. ‘You always make me smile! Very well, let us hope Mr Collins joins the clergy and that he does not find a tenant for Longbourn. Then he will live in a rectory and leave us all here!’

  They were distracted by the sound of running footsteps and their youngest sister, Lydia, burst into the garden. Her hand was clamped to her bonnet, which was askew, and her shawl was falling off her shoulders, and she was running so fast that her skirt was flying up around her knees.

  ‘There you are! I have been looking all over for you. Aunt Philips sent me to find you. She wants you to come in and dress at once. Mr Collins will be here soon and she says you are to put on your best gowns and your newest shawls, and Jane, you are to wear her pearls. I wish I could wear some pearls!’ Lydia exclaimed. ‘I am sure I would look better in them than any of you. If Mr Collins does not want to marry you, Jane, I hope he might marry me! What fun it would be, to be married before all of you and to go in to dinner ahead of you!’

  ‘You are a little young to be thinking of marriage just yet,’ said Elizabeth, laughing at her.

  ‘I can have a long engagement, so I am sure I am just as eligible as the two of you. Once I am Mrs Collins, you will have to do what I say. You will have to hem my handkerchiefs and write my letters for me, and look after my children and teach them their alphabet, whilst I recline on the sofa and eat grapes!’

  She continued to chatter in this manner as they walked back to the house. The three of them then retired to their own rooms to change into their best gowns. As Elizabeth dressed, she decided that she would not let Jane marry to save the family. If Mr Collins turned out to be charming and Jane genuinely loved him, then a marriage between them would be a welcome solution to all their problems. But, if not, Elizabeth decided she would rather go as a governess or a companion than allow her precious sister to make such a sacrifice. She would give her earnings to her aunts, and in that way she would make sure that her sisters were not a burden to them.

  Elizabeth had not long been in the drawing-room when the sound of a carriage announced the arrival of Mr Collins.

  ‘Now, girls, remember, Mr Collins can turn you all out of the house whenever he chooses so you must make an effort to be agreeable,’ said Mrs Philips. ‘Gentlemen like ladies who listen, so make sure you smile and nod encouragingly when he is speaking, and do not say too much in return. The sooner one or other of you is betrothed to him the better. I do not despair of it. Indeed, Jane, I feel sure he will fall in love with you, for as your mother was always fond of saying, you cannot be so beautiful for nothing. But hush! Here he comes.’

  The drawing-room door opened to reveal a tall, heavy looking young man. His air was grave and stately and his manners were very formal. He bowed to Mrs Philips and then bowed to each of the young ladies in turn, making a clumsy compliment to each one. Mrs Philips smiled on these attempts at pleasantries, but Elizabeth’s heart sank. She had been hoping that Mr Collins would be an intelligent man, but it seemed that he was something of a fool. However, he might simply be feeling awkward in the company of so many strangers and she knew she must give him the benefit of the doubt.

  ‘We are very glad to meet you at last,’ said Mrs Philips. ‘Will you not sit down?’

  ‘An excellent idea, dear Madam, I am obliged to you for your attention. May I say that this is a very elegant chair, and its position in respect to the rest of the furniture is exemplary. I hope I may say so without being considered boastful, since the room and everything in it now belongs to me.’

  Mrs Philips assured him that he could and thanked him for his kind words.

  Elizabeth’s spirits sank still further.

  ‘It is very good of Mr Collins to notice the chair, is it not, Jane?’ Mrs Philips asked, looking at Jane pointedly.

  Jane blushed at being drawn into the conversation in such an obvious manner but replied that it was very good of Mr Collins.

  ‘I thank you for saying so,’ he replied in a cumbersome fashion. ‘I am very sensible of the hardship to you and all your sisters that the entail has caused, and I could say more on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing forward and precipitate. But I can assure you that I come prepared to admire you. At present I will not say more, since I have only just entered the house, but perhaps when we are better acquainted I may be permitted to speak more fully.’

  ‘I am sure we would all like you to feel at home and say whatever you please,’ said Mrs Philips encouragingly.

  Elizabeth could bear no more of this and so she said, ‘Mr Collins must be thirsty after his journey, Aunt. Shall I ring for tea?’

  ‘That is a very good idea,’ said Mrs Philips.

  Elizabeth went over to the bell and its bright tones could be heard ringing in the kitchen far away.

  ‘All my nieces are such good girls, Mr Collins,’ said Mrs Philips as Elizabeth sat down again. ‘I am sure you will be quite delighted with them. They think only of the comfort of others and never once think of themselves.’

  ‘An amiable quality, dear Madam. In fact, I dare say it is the most amiable quality a young lady can possess. I see that all my dear cousins have been raised in an exemplary fashion.’

  ‘Indeed they have, Sir. My dear sister wore herself out in raising them —’

  Here Lydia looked at her aunt in astonishment, and Elizabeth could tell that she was about to say something embarrassing. Fortunately, the door opened at that moment and the maid entered with the tea tray. There was then some little bustle as everything was arranged and tea was poured. Elizabeth made sure that Lydia was occupied with handing cakes round and the awkward moment passed.

  ‘We were all very pleased to hear you intend to continue your studies, Mr Collins. A young man needs a profession and I can see you are suited to the church. You have the air of a clergyman. You look the very image of a learned gentleman, with just the right ai
r of gravity and yet, if I may say so, a friendly countenance.’

  Mr Collins sat and smirked at this praise.

  ‘Thank you, dear Madam, for your kind words. I thought of quitting my studies when I learnt I had inherited such a magnificent residence, but my tutors encouraged me to finish what I had started. I hope to be ordained before the year is out.’

  ‘Our rector in Meryton will be retiring next year,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Perhaps his living will suit you. It is very respectable and there is a large rectory attached. It would be a shame for you to waste your skills and talents, now that you have spent so much time attaining them. You should share your talents with the world.’

  Mr Collins smirked again.

  ‘You are too amiable,’ he said, ‘but I think I will not enter the profession. I owe it to my tutors to finish my studies, but I owe it to my dearly departed cousin, Mr Bennet’ – here he spoke in a more sober voice, and pulled a grave face – ‘to inhabit the life I have been bequeathed.’

  ‘A worthy aim,’ said Mrs Philips, nodding. ‘It is a pity you have no wife to help you. A squire does so need a good woman by his side: a gently bred young lady, not too high but well thought of by all her neighbours. If he is lucky she will be a beauty besides.’

  Here she looked at Jane, and poor Jane blushed again.

  Elizabeth blushed, too, for a different reason. Whereas Jane blushed because it was obvious she was being offered to Mr Collins as a potential wife, Elizabeth blushed because she thought her Aunt’s pointed remarks would embarrass even Mr Collins. But she had underestimated him. Not even so blatant a remark could discountenance him.

  ‘As to that, dear Madam, I fully intend to take a wife,’ he said, with a self-satisfied glance at Jane.

  No, thought Elizabeth in horror. This cannot be.

  She looked at her aunt, but her aunt was smiling.

  ‘An excellent plan,’ said Mrs Philips approvingly. ‘I am sure any young lady would be glad to have such an estimable young man as a husband.’