Madam and Missy — A Pride and Prejudice Variation
This is dedicated to all the writers both here and on KU who've released their stories for free! As I enjoy reading them so much, I thought that I'd have a go, and here it is.
[Note that I'm a Brit, so have written with British spelling, punctuation and terminology 😏]
In which the Bingleys and the Hursts travel to Hertfordshire and Miss Bingley's ambition is revealed
London
Miss Bingley
Miss Caroline Bingley was not pleased. Her brother, Charles, had leased an estate in the wilds of Herefordshire. She did not wish to live in Herefordshire. If she must leave the delights and entertainments of London, then it would be only to journey to Derbyshire. Pemberley in Derbyshire, if I must leave London.
Her brother's carriage left his house close —very close, really— to Mayfair in London. She sighed, looking cross. One of her companions in the carriage, her older sister, looked at her with slight disapproval.
"Caroline, be careful to adopt a more pleasing expression when we stop for refreshments," said Louisa Hurst.
Mr. Hurst, Louisa's husband, snorted, "You would not care for Darcy to see you with that unappealing look on your face!" Miss Bingley scowled at her brother-in-law. "Nor that look!" he laughed.
"Really, Hurst! Stop goading me! I shall be charm personified when I am freed from your company."
"I look forward to seeing that!" Shifting to get comfortable, Mr. Hurst closed his eyes and settled down to sleep.
Watching disapprovingly from the carriage window as they left the better parts of London and travelled north into the arable hinterlands, she waited until Mr. Hurst started to snore. Then, clutching her sister's hand, Miss Bingley said, "You must help me to catch Darcy while we are in Herefordshire."
"Hertfordshire," corrected Mrs. Hurst.
"Hertfordshire, Herefordshire, Hampshire — wherever it is, I must catch Darcy while we are there!" Miss Bingley paused for a few moments to consider Darcy's wealth and his magnificent estate of Pemberley. "When I am Mistress of Pemberley— "
They quietened for a moment as Mr. Hurst snorted in his sleep and changed position.
"You are not, yet, so you must be careful and clever to catch him."
"I shall, I shall. There must be a silver lining to this visit to the wilds of Herefordshire— "
"Hertfordshire," said Mrs. Hurst with a small sigh.
" —it will be that," continued Miss Bingley, ignoring her sister, "no-one there will have half of my elegance and sophistication. Darcy will— "
"'Mr. Darcy' — do not allow him to hear you call him by such a familiar name."
"Darcy will fall for my charms and see that I am perfect for the role of Mistress of Pemberley. 'Mrs. Caroline Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley' — how well that sounds!" Her face lifted with avaricious anticipation.
"'Mrs. Darcy' or 'Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy' not 'Mrs. Caroline Darcy' unless you are widowed," Mrs. Hurst pointed out.
Miss Bingley ignored her. "Of course, we shall not spend much time at Pemberley, but shall spend our time in London where we shall be the most sort-after guests at the most elegant balls and where we shall host the most exclusive dinners at Darcy House. The very best of society will be clamouring to entertain us."
The carriage rolled on, further away from civilisation into the wilds of Hampshire. Miss Bingley no longer scowled through the window; her gaze was unfocussed as she dreamt of the wealth and consequence that she would have as the Mistress of Pemberley.
Herefordshire (no, no, Miss Bingley, it is Hertfordshire)
Mr. Bingley's carriage stopped at a small inn to rest the horses and to allow the passengers to refresh themselves. Seeing her brother and Darcy dismounting from their horses, Miss Bingley rushed, as elegantly as she could, across the muddy courtyard to them. She attempted to hold Darcy's arm, but he seemed to be stroking his horse's legs.
"Cannot the servants do— whatever that is to your horse, Dar— Mr. Darcy?" She simpered up at him.
"They could, Miss Bingley, but I should like to find out for myself if my horse is injured," Darcy replied.
"Of course, Mr. Darcy, no-one knows Apollo like you do." She smiled and tried to gain his attention.
"Caroline!" laughed Mr. Bingley, "Darcy's horse is called 'Ajax'. I thought that you knew that."
"Charles!" she hissed back at him with a snarl on her face. Then, adopting a more conciliatory manner, she continued, "Of course, all of Mr. Darcy's horses are named after Roman gods. I cannot remember all of their names."
Mr. Hurst had ambled over to them. Baiting his sister-in-law, he said, "Ajax was neither Roman nor a god, he was Greek and a hero."
"Really, Hurst. I do not think that Mr. Darcy's horses are Greek, but I am sure that they all think of him as a hero." Why are Charles and Hurst laughing?
Mrs. Hurst joined them and asked, "Let us go in, shall we?" As the others nodded in their agreement, she continued, "I should like a cup of tea."
"It will not be worth calling it 'tea' at such a rude place," Miss Bingley said as she sniffed and looked at the door of the inn in disdain.
She caught Darcy's eye as he, too, looked disdainful. He agrees with me. It will not be long until he asks for my hand. Oh, Mistress of Pemberley — I cannot wait!
They sat in a private room at the back of the inn.
"This is barely adequate for people of consequence such as us," Miss Bingley moaned as they sat down.
"Oh Caroline, it is clean and snug and warm, and, look, here are the tea things," objected Mr. Bingley. "Thank you," he added, smiling to the maid.
"Really, Charles. There is no need to thank servants — they are here to serve us." She tried to catch Darcy's eye to show that she understood that her brother was being too friendly. Darcy was handing the maid some coins so did not share a sympathetic look with her. He is too good, but he will stop rewarding servants when we are wed.
Mrs. Hurst poured the tea and they helped themselves to cakes.
"What a shame that they do not have lemon cakes," Miss Bingley moaned.
"Lemons are expensive, Miss Bingley. Not everyone can afford them," said Darcy.
"Too true, and they would be available in the best hostelries." She looked down her nose at the worn wooden floor and, trying, again, to show understanding of their poor situation to Darcy, added, "Unlike this one."
Darcy regarded her sternly. "I often stop here on my way to Derbyshire as I particularly care for their fruit cake."
"Of course, Mr. Darcy, but fruit cake is but nothing to lemon cake." She gave a small titter to show that she recognised that they were of one mind.
Darcy's eyes widened slightly.
He agrees with me that we should always have lemon cake.
Mr. Hurst took the last slice of fruit cake saying, "Quite right, Darcy, excellent fruit cake!"
"Nonsense, Hurst! Mr. Darcy prefers lemon cake!"
Her brothers laughed at her proclamation, while Darcy's face was expressionless.
Northfield (no, no, Miss Bingley, it is Netherfield)
After the ladies had refreshed themselves, they boarded the carriage to continue to Netherfield. It was not much more than an hour later that the carriage turned off the road through a gap in a stone wall.
"This must be it," said Mrs. Hurst. "Netherfield, at last."
"A poor substitute for Pemberley," said Miss Bingley, scornfully.
"Do remember that Mr. Darcy is here with us," admonished Mrs. Hurst.
"And he will not be tempted by that scornful mien," added Mr. Hurst with a smirk.
"When I am Mistress of Pemberley— "
"You? 'Mistress of Pemberley'?" snorted Mr. Hurst.
" —I shall have nothing to do with you. You will not be invited to Darcy House or to Pemberley!" retorted Miss Bingley, angrily.
"Shh, Caroline, we have arrived," said Mrs. Hurst. "Remember to be your most elegant and charming!"
"Remember: 'your most elegant and charming'," echoed Mr. Hurst mockingly. He pursed his lips and put his hands to his cheeks feigning elegance and charm.
The carriage stopped and a footman had opened the door before Miss Bingley could respond. Why did Louisa marry that insufferable man?
The footman handed them out for their first look at Netherfield. The front door opened to reveal the housekeeper.
"Ah, Mrs. Nicholls, we are here at last!" cried Mr. Bingley, swinging down from his horse.
"You are welcome, sir," replied the housekeeper, bobbing a curtsey.
Mr. Bingley offered his arm to his sister.
Miss Bingley paused before accepting it, looking around to see if she could take Darcy's arm instead. Why is he talking with the coachman? We should be making an entrance together. Reluctantly, she took the proffered arm and allowed her brother to lead her up the steps into the house. Entering the foyer, she turned to the housekeeper and said, "When you have shown us to our rooms we shall have tea in the best parlour, Mrs. Nicholas." Good, Darcy will see how I can take charge of the servants.
"Yes, ma'am," replied the housekeeper with a curtsey. "If you would like to follow me, I shall take you to your rooms."
"Before you do that, Mrs. Nicholls," interrupted Mr. Bingley, "let me tell you who has accompanied Mr. Darcy and myself."
"Really, Charles; there is no need for that. Mrs. Nicholas knows who we are and is taking us to our rooms." Charles really must learn how to treat the servants.
Mr. Bingley shrugged. "Go ahead, please, Mrs. Nicholls. Show my sisters to their rooms."
Quite right, even Darcy looks unsettled by your interruption.
Miss Bingley swept up the stairs — elegantly.
Darcy
Darcy was about to start dressing for dinner while Stevens was selecting the right waistcoat, when they were surprised by a knock on his sitting room door followed immediately by the door opening.
"Dar— Mr. Darcy, I do— "
"Miss Bingley!"
" —hope that— "
"What are you doing in my rooms?"
Miss Bingley smiled in a way that she probably thought was pleasant and said, "Leave us, Stanley. I wish to talk to your master."
Darcy was relieved that Stevens would not leave until he himself told him to. Expressionless, he stared at the intruder.
"Stanley, you are dismissed," she repeated.
"Miss Bingley, what are you doing in my rooms?"
"Do send Stanley away so that we can talk in private," she simpered up at him.
"Miss Bingley, what are you doing in my rooms?" asked Darcy, again.
"It is not something to discuss in front of servants." Her smile turned coquettish as she looked up at him through her eyelashes.
"Then it should be discussed downstairs," said Darcy, walking behind her to indicate the open door.
She did not take the hint, but continued, "But such close friends as us should be able to talk anywhere."
"Downstairs, Miss Bingley!"
"Send Stanley away so that we can talk in private." She tried to clutch his arm.
"Leave my rooms now, Miss Bingley!"
"Very well, Mr. Darcy, I anticipate our tête-à-tête downstairs." And, with a last longing look over her shoulder, she left the room.
Darcy closed the door firmly behind her and leaned against it.
"Bottles, sir?" asked Stevens.
"Bottles, Stevens, lots of bottles." I must talk with Bingley about her. What is she thinking to come to my rooms? The sooner that my marriage is public knowledge, the better.
He strode to the sofa and threw himself down. I miss Missy! I miss her so much.
After a few minutes, Stevens approached and, clearing his throat, said, "I beg your pardon, sir. Missy asked me to give you this if I thought that you might need it."
Darcy looked up to see something small and brown in Stevens' outstretched hand. "How did you know, Stevens? How did you know?" Darcy's voice caught in his throat as he took the proffered acorn. "I thank you."
He struggled to his feet and, forcing himself to stand tall, said, "I should better dress for dinner — I cannot wait to find out what Miss Bingley was so eager to discuss."
Stevens finished dressing him and tucked a handkerchief into his breast pocket. Darcy looked in the mirror to see the edges of embroidered oak leaves — or were they brown clouds? — peeping out.
"Perfect!"
Please don't copy, but please do let me have comments/corrections 😏