Mr. Darcy & Elizabeth Read online

  Contents

  Mr. Darcy & Elizabeth: The Fashionable and Young

  DEDICATION

  PREFACE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  Elizabeth & Mr. Darcy:

  The Fashionable and Young

  a Pride & Prejudice variation romance

  by Alyssa Jefferson

  Copyright 2019 Alyssa Jefferson, all rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or distributed without the author’s permission.

  This novel features characters from Jane Austen’s beloved classic, Pride & Prejudice.

  For Clara

  PREFACE

  __________

  Dear Reader,

  As I considered where to take Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet next, I was drawn to the idea of renaissance. If I could bring Elizabeth to life in an environment that matched her personality, that accentuated all that is lively, vibrant, and charming about her, what would that environment be? From that idea was born The Fashionable and Young, a story that places Elizabeth and Jane in a position of relative freedom—yet does not ultimately change her fate to such a degree that she is liberated from the worries that plague her in Pride and Prejudice.

  Because this story is set approximately four years prior to the original, we also have the opportunity to see Mr. Darcy at a different stage of his life. When Mr. Darcy first inherited his family estate, yet had not grown used to the responsibility, how would his character differ? These questions led naturally to the evolution of a story that positions our dear couple as fated for each other due to an emotional kinship that lends an even deeper intimacy to their connection.

  While several popular characters are omitted from this variation, there are also new characters whose virtues and flaws alternately amuse and annoy. Those characters who remain are seen as slightly altered from the original, as I reimagined how their personalities, flaws, and strengths might change in this new reality. A background story of approximately twelve thousand words is available on my blog, AlyssaJeffersonBooks.wordpress.com, for those who are interested in reading more in this alternate universe.

  Thank you so much for your loyal readership, and if you liked my book, please kindly give a review. For new indie authors like myself, those reviews are incredibly valuable as I build a readership and continue to dedicate more time to producing content for all of us to enjoy. Likewise, if you notice a problem with the book, I want to make it right. Please feel free to contact me at [email protected] in order to share any issues.

  If you love this book and want to see more like it, I recommend you try What Time Has Done next. This is the first book in a series (still in progress) that imagines a reality in which Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy’s romance resumes about eight years after his failed proposal in Kent. Click here to snag a copy.

  Those who wish to be kept abreast of all my new releases are encouraged to sign up for my newsletter. You will receive a free novella about two hours after you sign up, and I also send early notice of all my releases to subscribers, plus occasional free short stories and novellas just for fun. Click here to join the tribe.

  Finally, since I first began composing this novel, I have had the complete joy of welcoming into our family a new baby girl. It’s been crazy around here for the past six months, but it is the absolute best kind of crazy. This story is dedicated to Clara, who is the youngest, most fashionable, most beautiful person on the planet.

  Happy reading! Gratefully,

  Alyssa

  CHAPTER 1

  __________

  Elizabeth Bennet awoke with a burst of energy that brought her almost instantly to her feet. Her sister Jane, sleeping in the same room, seemed for a moment to notice the bustle enough to rouse her from sleep. Almost, but not quite. Elizabeth scolded herself into calmness and watched Jane fall back against her own pillow before standing to creep quietly to the door. It was no ordinary day in her mind, for it would be the final day of her tutelage at a highly prestigious finishing school in London. Jane, nearly two years her elder, had elected to stay an extra year as a boarder rather than go back to Longbourn without her sisters, and therefore Elizabeth knew intellectually that no substantial change was likely waiting for her after today. Completing finishing school was nothing more than a rite of passage for a young lady—yet it felt momentous to her. The shy ray of the sunlight peeking through the space between the curtain and the window seemed to quiver with the same anticipation Elizabeth felt in her heart. It was not only the closing of this chapter, but the opening of a new one that beckoned her. She could not bear to miss a single moment of the day.

  At almost seventeen years old, Elizabeth had all the accomplishments a young lady of gentility could want. She played piano and harp, sang and danced admirably, sewed and drew, walked and rode, and had read all the most important texts in English, and a good many more in Italian and French. Her education, financed by her stepmother with a goal of making her and her sisters marriable despite their paltry dowries, was as thorough as such endeavors could be, and though it had necessitated their removal from Longbourn, the village in which they had been brought up, it had not deprived them of their beloved governess. Miss Hattie Watson, the woman who had been Elizabeth’s guide and friend since the untimely death of her mother when she was only five years old, had been kept in the family and had gone with the eldest girls to school to chaperone, assist, and bring them up as best she could.

  Elizabeth’s governess was attentive, but not even she could be expected to awaken at so early an hour as seven o’clock. The hallway was quiet, but the dressing room the girls shared had a bell, and Elizabeth rang it with confidence that some maid or other must be walking about, and anybody’s assistance would do. She must dress and be moving instantly; she must be doing something. The bustle created among the servants by one of their mistresses having awoken so early can be guessed, and Elizabeth insisted that the girl who came down do nothing more than assist her into her gown.

  “I will not have everybody up because of me,” Elizabeth said to the parlor maid, who mostly spoke French and did not quite understand her. Speaking in French herself, she added, “Please, I beg you, do not trouble yourself! I only need the smallest bit of assistance, just a shred of time, and I shall be done with the business. There, now—you see? I am dressed, and I shall set my hair myself.” When the maid refused to depart, Elizabeth finally submitted to her care and emerged, dressed smartly with hair set in curls, from the boarders’ quarters. Breakfast could not be thought of so early; she had nothing to do but wait. As luck would have it, however, waiting was a skill she had mastered long before. Since a little girl, Elizabeth felt she had been waiting for something—though she hardly knew for what.

  The school in London where Elizabeth and her three sisters had been sent was one of the very finest of its kind. While such schools were designed for social climbers, this one had many young ladies among the elite. The girls here were sent to be out of their families’ way for some reason or another. Some had been orphaned by both parents or one, as Elizabeth and her sisters were. Others had fa
milies abroad. The admission of the Bennet girls into the school had been a signal of its preference for noble, wealthy families, for their stepmother was the youngest daughter of an earl, and quite rich. Lady Sarah’s placing them in the school was her way of doing for them all she could do without actually doing much. She sent them away with a hope of giving more of her attention to her own young son and daughter, who had been born shortly after she had married their father. However, she never wanted to be cruel to her husband’s children. Though they could not be entitled to any inheritance from her, they also could not disgrace her. She would do enough for them that they would be respectable—and what else would make a woman respectable but to marry well? And how could a young lady find a husband but to become worthy of one through a proper upbringing? Thus had been her reasoning, and thus had been her excuse for sending all four of the girls—Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, and Catherine—to London as soon as they were old enough, that she might imagine they did not exist at all.

  The school was run by a former governess from a family of educators, supported by the wealth of her husband’s family, and offered continual board to the young ladies who attended, along with their own governesses. Better known for finishing than educating, most of the pupils were either out or soon to be out. Tutors in the school’s employ were only available certain months of the year, and as a result, there were frequently holidays in which no lessons were given at all. Perhaps this lent to the school’s popularity more than anything else, for it was known to be a place of leisure and amusement as well as training. Though there would have been plenty of time for it, Elizabeth and her sisters were seldom called home by their father and stepmother. They received letters, packages, allowances, and gifts—but not invitations. It was not that their father did not have affection for them—quite the opposite, in fact. It was much more common that, on holidays or on any days at all, the Bennet family would come to town themselves. Well-connected and wealthy as their stepmother was, she was never without business and people to visit, and the girls were just as comfortable living at school as they would have been in any of the many townhouses, inns, and dwellings where Lady Sarah sometimes induced her husband to stay. Yet the girls missed Longbourn, and the village where they had grown up remained a place they were eager to see but mostly doomed to avoid.

  “Are you awake then?” Miss Watson said, walking rather hurriedly into the drawing room where Elizabeth had been pacing the wall, looking for books in a tall shelf where most of what interested her had already been read. “Annette said you were, and I was astonished.”

  Elizabeth smiled apologetically. “I would have stayed in bed if I thought that my arising so early would force you to do likewise. I could not be still! It is nonsense, I know—utter nonsense. I will be exhausted by five o’clock, and I daresay I will hardly have an appetite for dinner, but I cannot talk my mind out of its excitement. I tried, I assure you, but I simply cannot!”

  Miss Watson shook her head, but there was laughter in her eyes. “I would have thought,” she said, “that it would be Jane who is too excited to sleep.”

  The mention of Jane made Elizabeth’s pulse quicken, though she knew very little more about Jane’s current sensibilities than Miss Watson did. Hesitatingly, she said, “Yes, I believe that is what most people would have thought.”

  “And what does your sister say? She is so reserved, I could hardly get a word from her on the subject last night. Shall she accept his proposal?”

  The “he” in question was the man on everyone’s mind of late—Mr. Richard Pembroke. Having met Jane at a party two months prior, he had declared himself to be in love with her. He had begun rather aggressively courting her ever since the time of their first meeting, the culmination of which was a proposal made only the evening before.

  “You must ask her yourself,” Elizabeth answered.

  “I would ask her myself,” Miss Watson answered, “but she—like many other sensible persons—is still asleep.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I do not need a chaperone, Miss Watson, if you should choose to return to your own room. I would not have come out of bed if I thought—”

  “Nonsense, nonsense,” her governess replied. “I am dressed, am I not? I arose as soon as Annette told me you were awake, and I could not sleep again now if I tried. Now then, we ought to make good use of our time. You will be examined today in French, I presume. Have you any last questions?”

  Elizabeth’s proficiency in the language, as in nearly all her other school subjects, was such that her accomplishments hardly required traditional examination. She was the picture of a well-brought up, well-educated, well-mannered young lady—when she wished to be. The sparkle in her eyes, the fire of liveliness in her temper, had never been extinguished or even reduced by the efforts of her school to model her into the very admirable young lady she now was. “My only question for you, my dear Miss Watson,” she said with a twinkle in her eye as she sat down beside her governess, “is whether I might not take the examination now and be finished with it!”

  As the sun rose higher in the sky, more young ladies began to fill the drawing room—but before Jane had come down, breakfast began to be served. Miss Watson went straight away to the breakfast table with the younger girls, but Elizabeth lagged behind, though she was hungry. To speak to Jane was an object of much higher urgency.

  “There you are at last!” Elizabeth said, seeing Jane enter the now almost deserted drawing room. “I thought I would starve to death before you came.”

  Jane, fair-haired and lovely, entered the room with a certain sensibility in her consciousness that made her cheeks seem even rosier than usual, and her gentle eyes even more inviting. She was the undisputed beauty of the family—an amazing compliment, when one considered that two of her three sisters were exceptionally pretty. “We cannot all be awake before the sun rises, Lizzy,” she replied.

  “It was not so bad as that,” Elizabeth said dismissively.

  “I heard from three servants already this morning,” Jane replied, “that you awoke so early there was nobody to help you dress. My Lizzy, why should you do such a thing?”

  “I am…anxious, I suppose,” Elizabeth answered, rising to her feet from the chair where she had been sitting to read.

  “What have you to be anxious about? You have nothing to fear in French.”

  “French? Now, do not tease me, Jane. You know as well as I do that something much more important than French, or examinations, or anything else has been on my mind. Jane, you must know that I am thinking of you!”

  “Must I?” Jane looked away, blushing slightly as she moved toward a distant window, where the last few ladies in the drawing room would not hear them. “I will not pretend to be unsure of what you mean—only, Lizzy, please do not trouble yourself. I assure you, I think of it not.”

  This startled Elizabeth enough that she said, rather louder than she meant, “You think not of what? You cannot mean you do not think of Mr. Pembroke!”

  Jane’s eyes widened and Elizabeth, instantly chagrined, lowered her voice. “Have you forgotten last night?” she whispered. “He will be expecting your answer today, Jane. I daresay he will come before the morning is over to call on you.”

  “I believe he will not,” Jane replied, “for I have written to him this morning.” Then, as though oblivious to Elizabeth’s astonishment, she said with apparent calmness, “Shall we not go in to breakfast?”

  “No, we shall not!” Elizabeth replied in a whisper. “Now, be honest with me, Jane, for I am quite in suspense. You have already answered him? But what have you said?”

  “What have I said? I would not expect that question from you, Lizzy—you who know me so well.”

  “It is because I know you so well that I am uncertain!” Elizabeth answered eagerly. “I have seen Mr. Pembroke about town with you only recently, but I have heard of his reputation.” She paused, not wanting to say anything insulting about the man whom she might henceforth call brother. “—And I know that he
was much better in person than we expected before we met him. I daresay in person he is perfectly charming.” She paused, smiling, and added, “As charming, at least, as most rich young men tend to be.”

  “Not most!” Jane protested. “I rather fear most young men tend to be too little what he is. They are inconsiderate, boasting, headstrong—and he is none of these things.”

  “No, he has not those faults, but—” Elizabeth stopped, again recollecting that her accusing him of having any faults might be inappropriate, should her sister at this moment be engaged to him. “But I know,” she said at last, “that you felt conflicted about him. That you did not feel you could love him.”

  Jane looked out the window beyond them and said calmly, “Yes, that is how I felt. That is how I still feel. I like him, certainly. In many ways, I admire him. His character, however, I cannot be confident of. I fear he may only have the appearance of a gentleman, when the principles that ought to guide his behavior come to the test. I believe he may be lacking many things.”

  This was so unforgiving an assessment of the man who wanted to marry her that for a moment Elizabeth was encouraged. “That is just how I feel about him, Jane!” she began to reply—but Jane interrupted her.

  “I do not mean to insult him, however,” she said. “I would tell anybody that I admire him, and I would certainly hope that, influenced by the right people, he would not be totally hopeless.”

  “Influenced by the right people? What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked, again fearful. “Do you mean, perhaps, influenced by a good wife?”

  “Yes,” Jane answered, “or good friends.”

  Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face, and she reached for Jane’s hand and said shakily, “Ought I to congratulate you, then? Shall I soon call him my brother?”

  Jane looked at Elizabeth in surprise. “Why, no, Lizzy! No, of course not! I have refused him. No matter how I admire him, no matter what I might hope for him, how could I marry him when I do not love him? Is not that more important to me than anything else? Have not I always said so?”