Mr. Darcy & Elizabeth: London in Love, a Pride and Prejudice Variation Romance
by Alyssa Jefferson
Chapter 1
"Surely you wouldn't have me go to London just on the very remote chance that I would meet Mr. Bingley!" Jane Bennet cried, dismayed.
The sisters were in their bedroom, and the rest of their rather loud, clamoring family had gone to bed.
Elizabeth Bennet smiled at Jane and shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, I certainly would. You know that he only went to London because his horrible sisters insisted that he go. And you know that they only made him leave because they saw how much he loves you. If you go to London, as their acquaintance and friend," Elizabeth emphasized the words pointedly, knowing how duplicitous their professed friendship with her sister was, "they must visit. You will see Mr. Bingley, and more importantly, he will see you."
Jane stared unseeingly at her reflection in the mirror. "I wonder if Aunt and Uncle will find my coming burdensome."
"They invited you!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"They feel sorry for me," Jane answered morosely.
"They would be delighted," Elizabeth insisted. Their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were, in Elizabeth's opinion, their most fortunate family connection. Sensible and dignified, generous and kind, her mother's brother and his wife lived in the somewhat unfashionable London neighborhood of Cheapside. Still, London was London, and while their Uncle's occupation in trade was nothing to boast about, it was certainly respectable and brought a degree of prosperity that allowed the family to live in more than common comfort.
"Our cousins will be thrilled," Elizabeth continued, "and Aunt Gardiner will be very glad for your help with the children."
At this reminder, Jane smiled. "I do love our dear cousins," she said. "It will be very pleasant to spend more time with them."
"And if you happen to spend more time with another certain person," Elizabeth added, "all the better."
Jane sighed and put out the light; Elizabeth knew that this meant she was ready to stop discussing it, and she decided to let her sister sleep on it. Jane was more thoughtful, less impulsive than Elizabeth. There was no point in belaboring the matter any further when, for all Elizabeth knew, her persuasion would have done its work by morning.
At the breakfast table the next day, Elizabeth found she was only half right.
"Well, Jane, have you decided what you'll do?" Mr. Bennet asked. He was seated at the head of the table, bookended by the family's guests, the Gardiners. All turned their faces expectantly to the eldest Bennet daughter, whose mild manners and sweetness led her to blush that so much attention was being paid to her.
"I have, Father," Jane answered. "I am so very grateful for the kind invitation, and of course I would be delighted to pay my Aunt and Uncle a visit. But my spirits would be so much more lifted if my sister Elizabeth were also invited, for I know that I would miss her terribly if I were to come alone."
At once, Elizabeth's uncle smiled and said, "What a wonderful idea!" and Aunt Gardiner added, "Yes, Lizzie, do come—what a pleasant time we will all have together."
Elizabeth turned to look at her sister, surprised. Being currently involved in an almost certainly doomed, but nonetheless enjoyable, flirtation with a military officer named George Wickham, she was not a bit eager to join Jane in her covert quest for Mr. Bingley. For one thing, his sisters were incredibly proud and disagreeable, and had never shown Elizabeth even the smallest degree of favor. For another, Mr. Bingley was also continually accompanied by his friend, Mr. Darcy, who was so much more disagreeable and proud than the others that they seemed sweet and dear by comparison. Moreover, it would surprise her greatly if her father felt he could spare them both from home at once, for it was no secret to any of the family that these two were his favorite daughters, that he preferred their company even to his silly wife's, and that they were the only two whom he believed had any sense.
Elizabeth chose to object only on the grounds of this final point: "Dear Aunt and Uncle, I am flattered, but Mother and Father will not be able to spare us both, surely!"
Elizabeth looked at her father, who misinterpreted her objections and said, "You are quite correct, Lizzie, that I would prefer you to stay. Without your influence, your sisters' silliness is likely to worsen considerably. It is a shame that silliness is so contagious, and sense is its only cure, but that is the fact."
The two youngest sisters, seated around Elizabeth and only half understanding, giggled and smiled. The middle sister merely stared at her breakfast with an expression of great seriousness.
"But," Mr. Bennet continued, "as it means so much to Jane, I have no objection to you spending a fortnight, or even four weeks, in London with your sister."
It would have been impossible, in front of her Aunt and Uncle and all her cousins, to decline now that her father had given his consent so wholeheartedly. Elizabeth forced a smile, heart sinking. The Gardiners were leaving today for London; indeed, their carriage was due to arrive just after breakfast, and their luggage had already been packed. There would be no time for Elizabeth to tell Wickham goodbye, or to do much of anything except hastily pack a trunk.
She and Jane excused themselves from the table to ready themselves for their journey shortly thereafter. Jane was all effusive gratitude for Elizabeth's agreeing to come, and she was so genuine in her belief that her trip would be far happier with her sister present that Elizabeth gradually came over to her way of thinking. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad; she would almost certainly have the opportunity to walk out with her Aunt and cousins instead of waiting at home every morning for visitors. She could also send Jane alone to make the obligatory visit to the Hursts'; she was sure that everyone would prefer it to be so. London was an exciting, invigorating city, filled with things to do and see. She needn't worry herself that she would run into unpleasant persons—least of all, Mr. Darcy.
She was wrong.
The party arrived in London on Sunday afternoon. On Monday afternoon, she saw him.
Elizabeth and her Aunt had agreed to take a morning walk through the neighborhood, while Jane, still in rather depressed spirits due to the nature of Mr. Bingley's departure, stayed at home with the children. After a short walk during which both expressed their worry about her sister, Elizabeth confessed her desire to see an old friend who had moved out of the neighborhood years ago following a prosperous marriage to a London barrister. The friend lived in Grosvenor Street.
"Of course," Elizabeth said, "I won't even think of going if it is any inconvenience to you and my Uncle, particularly leaving Jane in such a state. But I would very much like to see Anne, if it can possibly be arranged."
Mrs. Gardiner said, "It certainly can be arranged! I would be a poor host indeed if I prevented my niece from visiting a friend who is so nearby. I'll ask Mr. Gardiner to call the carriage."
Mr. Gardiner, who had been finishing some work at home that morning, readily obliged.
"Jane," Elizabeth said, coming into the sitting room where Jane had been gazing out the window to the street below. "Won't you join me? Our Aunt and Uncle are calling the carriage so I can come to Grosvenor Street and visit Anne Webb."
She looked up. "Anne Webb?"
"Our old friend, Anne Goulding, who married Mr. Webb."
"Oh! Do you still correspond with Mrs. Webb?" Jane seemed surprised, and Elizabeth found it odd that Jane hadn't been aware of Elizabeth's continued communication with her friend, which had been carrying on by letter for the four years since Anne's marriage.
"I do," she said. "I wrote to her last about two months ago, and she was doing very well, although confined and recovering since the birth of her son."
"I did not realize she had a son," Jane said, and Elizabeth was rather astonished that Jane had missed this joyful piece of news—either by her own omission, or because of Jane's excessive distraction at being the beloved of Mr. Bingley.
"Will you join me on my visit?"
"I think I will just be in the way," Jane said, and Elizabeth could see in her eyes that it would be useless to press the issue. Jane was cross and did not wish to be cheered up, and those who do not want to be happy are impossible to make happy.
Half an hour later, Elizabeth arrived at the home of her old friend, and was pleased to find her much healthier than her previous letter had described. She was glowing in the joy of new motherhood, and Elizabeth felt almost envious of her, had she not been so truly happy for her that any baser emotion was all but erased.
Her visit lasted until Mr. Webb arrived to remind Anne of their engagement to dine with their friends, the Morrises. Elizabeth had not realized that it was almost three, and she graciously made her leave.
This part of town was much more elegant than where her Aunt and Uncle lived, and Elizabeth, seeing that the weather was favorable, decided to take another short walk. It was there on the street, ambling past many elegant houses, that Elizabeth walked directly into the path of Mr. Darcy.
"Miss Bennet!" he exclaimed. Mr. Darcy was wearing his winter coat, and his handsome, angular jaw was dropped in surprise.
Elizabeth concealed her annoyance by turning her eyes toward the ground. She made a small curtsey and answered as civilly as she could, "Good day, Mr. Darcy." It was her first time seeing him since the ball Mr. Bingley had thrown at Netherfield before their departure, and only the second time since learning the horrible history of how he had mistreated Wickham, who had been his old childhood friend. Remembering the good nature in Wickham's voice as he had described forgiving Darcy for cutting off his rightful living and reducing him to poverty, she attempted to be similarly unaffected. "How do you do?" she asked demurely.
He shook his head, looking up the street in apparent confusion. "Are you-? Forgive me. What brings you to London, Miss Bennett? You are not here to visit the Hursts, surely?"
Elizabeth could hardly hide her contempt. Did this man honestly believe that everything that happened in the world was designed around him and his friends?
"No, indeed, sir. I am all surprise to have the pleasure of meeting you this morning, as I was just on my way back to Gracechurch Street after visiting an old friend."
"Gracechurch Street. Ah. Your Aunt and Uncle."
Elizabeth nodded, surprised that Mr. Darcy had bothered to remember that she had family connections in London, let alone where they lived. "Yes, I arrived yesterday and hope to stay a fortnight. Perhaps more, if London proves agreeable."
Mr. Darcy frowned and glanced at his pocket watch. "That it always does. You must forgive me," he said abruptly. "I am nearly late."
Elizabeth nodded and said nothing, not returning Mr. Darcy's hasty bow as he turned and walked away. She waited for him to enter a home she assumed was the Hursts' before she let out a huff. What awful luck! To run into Mr. Darcy on her very first day here—and to discover that he was still very much engaged with the Bingleys! Although there had been little hope of that changing, she still felt, for Jane's sake, that the unfortunate connection would do her own family few favors.
She hurried back to the carriage, wanting very much to be back at her Aunt and Uncle's house, where she could think. As they rode back toward Cheapside, Elizabeth watched the family houses become smaller and less grand, and she considered: Mr. Darcy would be at the Hursts often, as would the rest of the Bingleys. She now knew where they lived—a confirmation of the earlier letter Jane had received from Miss Bingley. Elizabeth must encourage Jane to call there, and soon—perhaps tomorrow morning.
Elizabeth then realized that she had missed the opportunity to mention Jane's being in town to Mr. Darcy. If she did that, then perhaps a visit would be made without Jane's needing to venture all the way to Grosvenor Street. While the journey itself was not particularly burdensome, Jane's spirits were so low that Elizabeth worried the exertion would overwhelm her, and Jane simply wouldn't do it. Now Jane must go, because the knowledge of Elizabeth's being in town certainly would never prompt a visit from any of that family—except perhaps Mr. Bingley, whose kind manners and genuine good nature made him the only person Elizabeth would have wanted to pay her a visit, anyway.
But it wouldn't do; this was far too important to leave to chance. Jane would have to come to Grosvenor Street herself. Elizabeth resolved to persuade her to go alone, however. The risk of seeing Mr. Darcy again was too great. Remembering his arrogance, she let out another angry huff. To think, that he believed she had come to the neighborhood to call on him and his friends! As though they were her only acquaintances in the world; as though she would seek out that family in London, or indeed in any part of the world! Furthermore, she was well aware that Mr. Darcy was coming to the Hursts' to dine, and it was a glaring omission that he had not invited her—although she would never have accepted. He was impolite, proud, and selfish. He was horrible, and every time their paths crossed, Elizabeth became more convinced of his total incivility. How a man like him could have a single friend in the world was beyond her imagination.
Well, perhaps that wasn't true. Those with money always seemed to have friends.
Returning to her Aunt and Uncle's house, Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised by an invitation to a ball from her dear friend Anne. She must have sent it with a servant almost as soon as Elizabeth had left her house, for it to be waiting when she arrived.
Elizabeth showed the invitation to Jane, whom Aunt Gardiner had prevailed upon to join her in needlework in the parlor. The ball was on Friday night, and in a very elegant neighborhood.
"Jane, look what has arrived! We will certainly meet many persons here."
Elizabeth showed the note to her Aunt next, who smiled and said, "How delightful! I suppose you and your friend must have had a pleasant visit, then."
"Yes, indeed," Elizabeth said. "And I imagine this ball will be her first since dear Henry was born last summer. I am very flattered that she thought to invite me."
"I am sure she wishes to show you off," Aunt Gardiner said, smiling. "It is not often that she has a friend from home to share with her general acquaintance, particularly any as young and pretty as you and your sister."
Elizabeth smiled at her Aunt's flattery, and Jane blushed. "Oh! I was not included in the invitation, Aunt."
"You were," Elizabeth corrected, showing her the card again. "There. 'The Miss Bennets,' it says."
Jane raised her eyebrows. "Oh! How very kind. I suppose you must have mentioned my being in town, Lizzie. I hope she isn't angry with me for not having come to visit."
Elizabeth assured her that she wasn't.
"Then it is settled," Aunt Gardiner said. "You will both attend, and your Uncle will send you in his chaise and four."
The sisters expressed the requisite surprise and gratitude for such stylish and comfortable accommodations, and all was settled. Elizabeth knew Jane was thinking of meeting Mr. Bingley there, and therefore she purposely did not mention making a visit to the Hursts to her sister. What need would there be? It was highly likely they would see each other soon enough.
Mr. Darcy stomped up the steps to the Hursts' house and rang at the door. When he walked inside, he was immediately assaulted by the aggressive attentions of Miss Bingley.
"Oh! Mr. Darcy, I thought you would never come!" Caroline Bingley threw herself off the couch where she had been reclining and rushed to Mr. Darcy's side. He managed not to frown at her, though he couldn't quite bring himself to smile, and asked her how she did.
"It has been such a dreary, dull day. But all that will come to an end, now that you have arrived," she said smiling.
Mr. Darcy sighed and removed his gloves and coat. The Hursts' servant, an attentive young man who had been hovering near Mr. Darcy anxiously while Miss Bingley greeted him, took them and hurried away. All the while, Miss Bingley continued to watch and wait. It was never calm in this house; there was never any space to think.
He had not been expecting to see Elizabeth Bennet. Now his thoughts were all in confusion.
He found Mr. Bingley at the writing desk, where he professed he was taking some time to attend to business. He greeted Mr. Darcy with a smile, but it lacked the usual cheer. He was still, it seemed, pining for the eldest Miss Bennet. If only he knew how very much Mr. Darcy was similarly afflicted, they could perhaps together talk each other out of their affections for unsuitable women.
And the Miss Bennets were totally unsuitable. Being daughters of a gentleman, there was nothing necessarily objectionable about their descent—at least, not in terms of a match for Charles Bingley. Bingley was the son of a prosperous tradesman and had inherited a great fortune; he was not born noble or wealthy, and thus was not to be necessarily guided by the scruples of which Mr. Darcy must be continually aware.
But the Bennet family was so…ridiculous. Their mother was the daughter of nobody worth noting, and none of her relatives could possibly run in the same circles as the Bingleys, and certainly not the Darcys. Furthermore, excepting the eldest two daughters, the whole Bennet family was dim-witted, silly, and frankly embarrassing. If Mr. Bingley were connected to that family, he would certainly come to regret it. Mr. Darcy knew that he would, as well.
And yet, his thoughts continually returned to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Meeting her on this very street had been so unexpected! For her to be in London, of all places—and to have a friend who lived nearby the very house where he was continually visiting and dining. It was a coincidence that he couldn't comprehend.
Did she truly know a family in this part of the city? But she must! She certainly had not been in town to visit Mr. Darcy, which she had made very clear. If she did have friends here, he had underestimated her; he had not thought her acquaintance so varied and so respectable as this. Perhaps unfairly, he had assumed she only knew people in the country.
No, certainly it was unfair—for he did know of her relations in Gracechurch Street. He had plenty of evidence that she was connected in London, but he still thought of her as simple and unsophisticated. It was his own prejudice that made him feel that way, he began to acknowledge, and not any actual impression or fact. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was clever, talented, well-mannered, and pretty. Whatever may be said about her family, she was not embarrassing in the least. A connection with her could not embarrass a man of sense.
Then again, her mother could embarrass anyone, at any time, in any place. Her capacity for embarrassment was astonishingly broad. Mr. Darcy cringed. What did it say about his judgment that he was still infatuated with the second-eldest daughter?
The Hursts came in, and shortly afterward, dinner was announced. The party of five was seated at the table, and here, where all were face-to-face, it was not possible to ignore Mr. Bingley's morose expressions. He was unhappy, and all noticed it.
"Charles, you seem so unwell since we arrived in London," Caroline Bingley said. "You hardly laugh or joke at all, and I must insist that you cheer yourself, for you will have very pleasant company again this evening."
Ah, yes. The school friend whom Caroline had invited to cards with them this evening, Miss Catherine Eberly, had taken quite a liking to Charles Bingley. A striking young woman, she had plans to attend an upcoming ball with the family, and Mr. Bingley was engaged to dance the first two dances with her.
"I do not feel unwell," Mr. Bingley said, and he forced a smile. "I am delighted to have company. Any young lady of youth and beauty is certainly welcome with me."
The party laughed at his risqué comment, but Mr. Bingley's own smile did not reach his eyes. Suddenly a thought occurred to Mr. Darcy: was Miss Jane Bennet also in town? He certainly hoped not, for having her constantly thrown in Mr. Bingley's way would only prolong and exacerbate his present feelings. If she were in town, she would almost certainly visit, for she seemed to believe herself to be friends with Mr. Bingley's sisters.
And that was another thing: was Miss Jane Bennet really, and could she possibly be truly, as good as she seemed, or was it all an act? More to the point, how was it possible that she genuinely believed her friendship with these women to be sincere? How could she fail to notice how they, like Mr. Darcy, had attempted to dissuade her at every turn from pursuing any relationship with Mr. Bingley? Was she really so daft as to fail to see where she was unwanted?
Mr. Darcy did not trust her. She seemed sensible, and yet her failure to correctly judge—or to heed—the warning behaviors of others was inexplicable to him. Her apparent feelings for Mr. Bingley were also doubtful. She was incredibly reserved, yet positively dripping with goodness. Neither were qualities Mr. Darcy particularly appreciated, and neither were qualities shared with her sister.
No, Miss Elizabeth Bennet had none of her elder sister's failings. She was totally aware of the poor behavior of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. She was clever and had a good intuition. Her feelings were almost always apparent in her expressions; though she never said anything inappropriate, she was certainly not reserved. People had to earn her regard, and she returned goodness in kind. In short, she was everything her sister was not. Women like Jane Bennet, sweet and simple, were everywhere; women like Elizabeth Bennet were singular and rare.
"I am delighted that Miss Eberly will join us at the ball," Mrs. Hurst said, smiling at her brother and sister. "For it has been a very long time since we have had any truly elegant, respectable company at a ball."
This speech seemed only to add to Mr. Bingley's depression.
"But whoever will you dance the first with, Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Hurst continued. She nodded coyly across the table to her sister, who easily picked up her hint.
"Oh! But Mr. Darcy rarely dances, and then, only with people he knows intimately. Surely you know this, sister." Her giggle only added to Mr. Darcy's annoyance. She had been, in the past five months or so, more flirtatious than ever before with him. He knew the reason why: ever since he had made the grand error in judgment of complimenting another woman's eyes, she had been jealous and apparently eager to be the only woman he admired. While he thought her handsome enough, he did not think the two of them to be even remotely compatible. Here was an example. She did not tease him, though perhaps she thought she was teasing. Her brand of teasing was to compliment and laugh. The humor was lost on him; what was so funny about this? What did she expect him to say in return?
It was that giggle, that annoying giggle, that made him realize what he wanted to do.
"You shall find out soon enough," he replied, and took a sip of water. He would make the visit in the morning. He knew where Miss Elizabeth Bennet was staying, and he could find the actual address easily enough. How grateful she should be, to be invited to the ball. And here in London, where no one knew her mother, there was no reason for any scruple when he did it. An evening with the woman he could not forget would either pacify his desires or convince him that they were insurmountable. Either way, it was something he could do, a way he could act—and he was certain it would make them both happy, at least for the night.
This concludes chapter 1 of Mr. Darcy & Elizabeth: London in Love. If you enjoyed what you read, you can find the full novel here. Thanks for reading!