Crossed in Love Chapter 1, a pride and prejudice fanfic

CROSSED IN LOVE

Summary: What if Jane Bennet didn't wait for Charles Bingley during her stay in London? A Pride and Prejudice / Northanger Abbey crossover.

Jane Austen Quote: "Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then." (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 24)

Chapter 1

Monday, 30 December 1811

"I will see you next week."

Try as she might, Jane Bennet could not forget Charles Bingley's parting words, spoken when she left the Netherfield ball on 27 November. He had explained that his business in London would be easily dispatched within a few days and promised to dine with the Bennet family at Longbourn as soon as he returned. That promise had haunted Jane every day for the past month.

Had he truly meant to return? Did he know then that he would break his word or had he just intended that statement as a commonplace sentiment? At the time, she had no reason to doubt him. As a man of honour, he had always been true to his word. He had afforded her every civility; even his family had treated her with the utmost courtesy. While she had to admit that his sisters had not always extended the same civility to her family, they had never slighted Jane.

Since the first moment of their acquaintance, Jane had been flattered by Mr Bingley's unwavering attentions, but the night of the ball had been the most magical of her life. That evening, he had singled her out by dancing with her twice and spending the supper hour with her. Blissfully enamoured with him, she was certain her feet never touched the floor during those two sets. While she could always admire a handsome, well-mannered man who dressed in understated elegance, she had been even more impressed with Mr Bingley's modesty and sincerity; she could want nothing more in a suitor. What's more, the glowing admiration in his eyes surely reflected the light in her own. She had no doubt that when he returned to Netherfield, the bonds of friendship would grow into something more lasting.

However, the day after Mr Bingley had gone to town, his sisters and guests packed up the house and followed him. In her farewell letter, Caroline Bingley stated that her brother had moved back to London and had no intention of ever returning to Hertfordshire again. Worse yet, Caroline's second letter continued to sow the seeds of doubt, suggesting that he admired someone else.

My brother admires Miss Darcy greatly already; he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing; her relations all wish the connection as much as his own, and a sister's partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles the most capable of engaging any woman's heart.

Jane wondered if Caroline meant to warn her that Mr Bingley had transferred his affections to another woman. A month had elapsed since he had gone away; perhaps a stronger attachment had prevented his return. She had heard nothing but praises of Miss Darcy's accomplishments, but Jane could boast of no extraordinary skills worthy of a gentleman's notice, especially one of Mr Bingley's stamp. A man of fortune could choose anyone for his wife; why should he settle for a woman of little consequence? Besides, if Bingley's closest friend, Mr Darcy, approved of the match for his sister, there could be little doubt of its eventual success. Jane had once been so certain of Bingley's return, but each perusal of Caroline's letters had raised new doubts. With each passing day, every shred of hope seemed to slip from her grasp.

Upon resigning herself to his abandonment, Jane's world had shattered, and her spirits had sunk to the lowest depths. Christmas had been a sombre affair, even with the addition of her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and their four high-spirited children. For her family's sake, she had disguised her heartbreak during the daytime, refusing to reveal a trace of sorrow. However, after the house had descended into slumber each night, she submitted to her misery and allowed her tears to flow.

Apparently, she had not disguised her wretchedness as well as she thought; Mrs Gardiner easily guessed her despair and invited her to return to London with them, confident that a change of scene would restore her sunny disposition. However, Jane could not fathom how that might come to pass. How does a man change from showering a woman with attention one day to absolute indifference the next? Despite her doubts, Jane accepted her aunt's kind invitation.

Now, cramped in the carriage with her uncle and aunt, and four cousins, they sped down the road to London. Releasing a beleaguered sigh, she wondered if she would ever find love again.

"You must not give up hope, Jane," Mrs Gardiner said, patting Jane's hand.

Jane straightened her shoulders, chiding herself for allowing any trace of discontent to escape her. She could not be ungrateful for her uncle's generosity in extending this unique opportunity of passing the next few weeks in London. What's more, the children would not understand such melancholy, especially during the holiday season. "You are right, Aunt Madeline. I shall persevere," she said with more enthusiasm than she felt.

"You need have no fear of meeting Mr Bingley in London. I doubt he ever ventures to our side of town."

Jane thanked her aunt, forcing a smile in an attempt to appear calm. However, if she were to encounter Mr Bingley in town, Jane would not have the smallest objection.

Unfortunately, Bingley's desertion had not been the only reason Jane had accepted her aunt's invitation to stay at her house in town. Mrs Bennet's ceaseless laments that she had failed to secure Bingley had sorely tested Jane's forbearance. Unfortunately, her mother had little control over her emotions, relentlessly mentioning Bingley and how wrong he had been to go away, all the while professing her confidence in his eventual return. That persistent reminder that Jane had lost her most promising suitor was more than she could withstand; her aunt's invitation came as a welcome means of escape from the constant reminder of her failure. Staying with supportive Uncle Edward, level-headed Aunt Madeline and their delightful children might be just the remedy she needed. While she would miss Lizzy, her beloved sister and closest confidant, London would provide a distraction from this shattering disappointment.

Her youngest cousin broke the extended silence. "Mr Bingley is a bad man," the four-year-old said, his face twisted into a menacing snarl.

Jane gasped at this bitter accusation, and Mrs Gardiner immediately challenged him. "Phillip! How can you say such a thing?"

"He made Janie cry, and if I were older, I would call him out."

Jane regretted allowing the children to witness her sorrow, but could not help admiring the young boy's gallantry. "You are very noble, Phillip, and I thank you for your concern, but you must not dislike people you have never met."

Despite his diminutive stature, Phillip refused to relent. "If I ever do meet him, I will teach him a lesson he will never forget."

"That will be enough, Phillip." Upon hearing his father's stern voice, the boy remained silent, but his eyes retained an angry glare. Amanda, Martha and Eddie stared in wonderment at their younger brother, but none dared to risk their father's ire by speaking.

While Jane loved all her cousins equally, little Phillip had just risen in her esteem. "I assure you; Mr Bingley is the best of men. We merely had a misunderstanding which will be resolved with no difficulty whatsoever."

While this simple explanation may have mollified Phillip, she had yet to convince herself of such an easy resolution to her dilemma. Indeed, on the one hand, she dreaded seeing Bingley in town. How lowering it would be if he were to discover that she had followed him to London. Even the smallest suggestion that she had placed herself in his path would be too mortifying to bear. A young lady never chased after a gentleman; at least, not one who valued her reputation.

On the other hand, even worse was the thought she might never see him again. Her heart had been touched for the first time and she had every confidence that they shared a special connection. She preferred to believe that some trivial mistake or misunderstanding had been the cause of their separation. If, by some chance, she could speak with him and resolve their misunderstanding, they might go on as they were before.

Unable to reconcile these opposing desires, she resolved to put him out of her mind for the present time and give her full attention to the children. How imprudent she had been to expose them to such unbridled emotion and cause them to worry about her welfare. She dared not take advantage of her aunt and uncle's hospitality by making a scene or giving them any reason for concern. No, from that moment on, she would disguise her sorrow and be the shining beacon in a stormy sea.

Monday, 30 December

James Morland drummed his fingers on his knees as he sat with his brother-in-law, Henry Tilney in a small waiting room next to the lying-in chamber. His sister Catherine was about to give birth to her third child. Six hours had passed since she had quietly announced that her time had come and had summoned the midwife and her sister-in-law, Lady Crampton, to her chamber. James and Henry, both unassuming clergymen, had already fortified themselves with several glasses of wine, and nothing remained but to wait.

James had come to Gloucester to spend the holidays with Catherine and Henry, who had assured him that the babe's arrival was still some weeks hence. However, earlier that morning, the babe had decided to make an early entrance into the world, and the quiet routine at the parsonage had been thrown into chaos. The two older children had been borne off to the manor house with their nurse to visit their grandfather, while James and Henry awaited events.

James had been in good spirits until Catherine had begun to moan, quietly at first, then with greater urgency. Her cries had become increasingly more earnest over the past few hours, alarming James with each passing moment.

"I assure you, James, it was much worse the first time. Catherine knows what to expect now and is not the least afraid," Henry said.

This account of his niece's successful birth gave James no solace. Unfortunately, he had no experience in these matters. Although he was the eldest of ten children, he had no memory of the birth of his siblings closest in age and had been away at school when the others were born.

Catherine's anguished scream brought James to his feet. With tears stinging his eyes, he crossed the room to the door and attempted to turn the knob, but it would not budge.

"It's no use trying to get inside. Believe me, I tried with Tessa and Freddie. They refused me both times."

"I cannot bear to hear Catherine in such pain." She had been the picture of health these past few days, but now he feared for her life. His heart pounding, James paced absently over the carpet, in part wishing to break down the door and be of some assistance to his sister, part praying that she would be relieved of this pain, and another part hoping that the endless wait would soon be over.

"Sit down, James. Your pacing is driving me to distraction," Henry said. "The women have Catherine well in hand."

Not wishing to add to his brother-in-law's distress, he resumed his seat but could find no comfortable position. James agreed that Henry's sister Eleanor, who Catherine trusted above all others, would do everything in her power to help Catherine. Also attending the birth were the midwife, the housekeeper, a lady's maid and a housemaid. These five women would surely know what to do if complications should arise.

Finally, the sound of an infant's wails filled the air. Henry jumped to his feet and launched himself at the door. "Catherine, are you well?" he called out, pressing his palms to the door. When there was no answer, he pounded with his fists. "Eleanor, I beg you," he said with a strangled voice.

"Please be patient, Henry." Lady Crampton's curt voice offered no clues.

Henry collapsed into the chair, holding his head in his hands. An unendurable period of time elapsed. The infant continued to make its presence known, but James could detect no women's voices. He kept his eyes fixed on the door, willing it to open. What were they doing in there? He knew perfectly well that childbirth was the greatest risk to a woman's life. Had Catherine been spared? A horrifying thought sprang to James's mind; he had not told his sister how proud he was of her. She had married well and had made a beautiful, loving home for her husband and children. Should he not have shared those thoughts with her before now? What if he had run out of time?

The sound of the sliding bolt diverted him from these dark reflections. James held his breath as Eleanor entered with a tiny bundle in her arms. "You have another son, Henry," she said.

Henry bounded across the room. "Catherine?"

Smiling, Eleanor handed the bundle to Henry. "She wants to see you."

Cradling the child in his arms, Henry placed a kiss on the infant's forehead. "I must go to her immediately," he said, then dashed into the lying-in chamber with his new-born son.

"Is Catherine well?" James asked, hiding his sense of dread. Eleanor assured him that although tired, she was in good health and delighted with her handsome boy. He finally allowed himself to release a sigh of relief.

Although James would have preferred to see his sister for himself, he did not expect to be admitted into the lying-in chamber for another few days; Eleanor had clearly made that point upon her arrival that morning. Eleanor sat in the chair abandoned by her brother, no doubt exhausted, and helped herself to a cup of tea from the tray. Knowing the water had gone cold hours ago, he rang for a servant, to order another pot, then thought better of it. The servants were most likely attending to Catherine's needs at the moment. He ran downstairs to the kitchen and requested a tea tray for Lady Crampton, and a footman promised to see to it directly.

When he returned to the sitting room, he found Henry awaiting him, still holding the infant. "Catherine wants to see you." James approached the bed with no small amount of trepidation, alarmed to see his vibrant sister appearing pale and listless.

Smiling meekly, she reached out her hand. "How do you like your new nephew? His name is Richard," she said with a raspy voice.

Kneeling next to the bed, he held Catherine's small hand in his, comforted by her good spirits. "Very well, indeed," he said, finally allowing himself to relax. "Our father will be overjoyed with his namesake."

None of the Morland children had been named for their parents, but Catherine had now set that to rights with her own children. She had named her oldest child after Mrs Teresa Morland, her firstborn son, after General Frederick Tilney, and the new infant was named after Mr Richard Morland.

Eleanor returned and gently chided them. "Catherine must have her rest, gentlemen."

Clinging to his sister's limp hand, James refused to waste this opportunity. "Catherine, I am blessed to be your brother. Through your love and devotion, you have created a wonderful home for your husband and children." She rewarded him with a weary smile. He recited a brief prayer that Catherine might be restored to perfect health, then reluctantly left the chamber. The birth of his nephew had been a harrowing but wonderful experience James would never forget.

Author's Note: Hello JAFF Fans! I hope you will enjoy my latest project.

When I imagine James Morland, he resembles the actor James Norton when he played Sidney Chambers in the Grantchester series.