Designed for Each Other: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

Prologue

Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the surprise of what had happened. It was impossible to think of anything else, and totally indisposed for employment, she resolved, soon after breakfast, to indulge herself in air and exercise. She was proceeding directly to her favorite walk when the recollection of Mr. Darcy’s sometimes coming there stopped her. Instead of entering the park, she turned up the lane which led farther from the turnpike-road. The park paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one of the gates into the ground.

After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was tempted by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent had made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the verdure of the early trees. She was on the point of continuing her walk when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove which edged the park. He was moving that way, and fearful of its being Mr. Darcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was now near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronounced her name. She had turned away, but on hearing herself called, though in a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again towards the gate.

He had by that time reached it also, and holding out a letter, which she instinctively took, said, with a look of haughty composure, I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honor of reading that letter? And then, with a slight bow, turned again into the plantation and was soon out of sight.

Pride and Prejudice – Chapter 35

Chapter 1

To Reconsider Her Refusal

For the second time in as many hours, Elizabeth retraced her steps along the path leading from the park right up to the gate of the parsonage house.

I absolutely must find Mr. Darcy’s letter.

Indeed. Were it to be discovered by another would mean life-changing consequences for both Elizabeth and the gentleman, to say nothing of the devastating harm to his young sister’s reputation.

With its bountiful white clouds floating overhead on what otherwise was a perfect day, the picturesque blue sky above presented a stark contrast to the muddled mixture of conflicting emotions warring inside her. Amid the turmoil in her mind from reading Mr. Darcy’s letter, folding it, tucking it into her pocket, retrieving it, and rereading it in frequent repetition, Elizabeth misplaced it somewhere along the way.

How could I have been so careless with something so delicate as a letter from a gentleman so wholly unconnected to me as Mr. Darcy—a letter revealing his family’s most closely guarded secrets no less? Such had been Elizabeth’s silent self-interrogation over and again.

For her own part, her rejection of yet another man’s proposal of marriage would be discovered. And not just any man, but a man of consequence. Even those closest to her would consider her a laughing stock for refusing the hand of one of the most eligible bachelors in all of England.

Many would also argue one of the most desirable, she silently reminded herself. Being the second eldest of five daughters living at an estate that was entailed to the male line of the family, she had spent the better part of her twenty years listening to her mother’s favorite complaints of the importance of finding a husband.

Indeed, a marriage to such a man might have been something wonderful for her family’s prospects, and most importantly, her sister Jane’s chances for felicity with the gentleman’s best friend, a Mr. Charles Bingley. Making matters worse was the opening of the letter where he vowed there would be no repetition of the sentiment he had espoused the previous evening, which meant that even if she had been tempted by the eloquence of his letter to reconsider her refusal, it was too late.

Elizabeth had made an enemy of the one man who could right the wrong to her beloved sister. But was he indeed an enemy, she wondered, for he had also confided in her a great secret about his own sister’s brush with scandal, the general knowledge of which might have severe consequences even now. What better evidence that he trusted her.

All that will change if I do not manage to secure and destroy the tell-all letter before it falls into the wrong hands.

How miserable her life would be should the letter be seen by Mr. Darcy’s haughty aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who credited her own generosity of spirits as the reason for Elizabeth’s being in Kent. How wretched if her cousin, Mr. Collins, should stumble across the letter. Having been spurned by Elizabeth, he would no doubt relish in the opportunity to expose her before his noble patroness for censure.

Either would result in my being forced to return to Longbourn, my father’s home, in shame. Such a prospect would contribute greatly to the detriment of her sisters as well. Her elder sister, Jane, whom Mr. Darcy had mentioned by name would surely be ridiculed. Indeed, no one in her family would escape condemnation, she considered as a most disparaging account of their behavior in Hertfordshire was cited: The situation of your mother’s family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison to that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father.

So much as she was concerned about how the contents of the letter reflected on her family, the more serious potential harm would befall his very own sister. Mr. Darcy had explained at length how he had arrived in Ramsgate just in time to prevent her from eloping with his worst enemy, George Wickham. All this he had disclosed with the expectation of secrecy, Elizabeth considered in reflection of his heart-wrenching written words:

"I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to the guardianship of my mother’s nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and myself. About a year ago, she was taken from school, and an establishment formed for her in London. Last summer she went with the lady who presided over it to Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived.

Elizabeth’s silent recollection of Mr. Darcy’s letter was soon interrupted by the sound of someone’s voice.

Pardon me, Madam. You seem to be in search of something. May I offer you my help?

Startled by her unexpected companion, Elizabeth spun around on her heel. Her eyes met those of a stranger’s, which was some consolation, for it spared her the embarrassment of confiding what she was searching for.

No! Elizabeth exclaimed with energy. Remembering her manners, she said, That is to say, I should hate to inconvenience you.

It is no bother, replied the stranger, a stout woman on the best side of thirty with a pleasant countenance. Her manner of dress suggested she might be a servant—a servant from Rosings Park. I assure you I am more than happy to help you find whatever it is that you are looking for. Perhaps you might describe it.

Despite being surprised to meet anyone other than Colonel Fitzwilliam or Mr. Darcy in that particular lane, if she were to encounter anyone at that precise moment, far better it was a servant. She had lost count of the number of times she had accidentally met the latter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s aforementioned nephews only to have him turn and take the empty space by her side and proceed to accompany her on what was meant to be a solitary ramble. How odd it always struck her that he would even wish for her company. She always supposed he did not like her, and as she had never consciously done anything to garner his good opinion, his opinion of her was of little consequence.

Still, she could not help but search her brain trying to remember the other occasions of their being alone—just the two of them, since his arrival in Kent.

He certainly made a point of visiting me at the parsonage house during those times when the Collinses were away.

For the first time since their argument at the parsonage house, the motives behind the haughty gentleman’s confounding behavior dawned on her.

How could I have been so blind as to be wholly unaware that Mr. Darcy was courting me?

Remembering the kind stranger awaiting a reply to her offer of assistance, Elizabeth said, Actually, it was nothing at all—at least nothing of consequence. No doubt, it will turn up sooner or later. With that, Elizabeth smiled a little. Good day, she said, effectively sending the older woman on her way.

Now free to dwell on the contents of Mr. Darcy’s missing letter, she recalled in great detail what Mr. Darcy had written about the means Mr. Wickham had employed to deceive young Miss Darcy.

By Mrs. Younge’s connivance and aid, Wickham so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love. Thus, she consented to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be her excuse; and after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add, that I owed the knowledge of it to herself.

I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement, and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she looked up to almost as a father, acknowledged the whole to me.

This must surely attest to the strength of Miss Darcy’s esteem for her older brother that she would do so, Elizabeth could not help but reflect. She had heard so much about the young woman from those who knew her best. By all accounts, she was very accomplished, especially as evidenced by her excellence on the pianoforte.

Some thought of George Wickham’s portrayal of Miss Darcy could not help but intrude.

He accused her of being haughty and above her company. How could I possibly have been so deceived by another? Am I so shallow that I mistook his physical beauty for personal integrity?

Her silent question summoned her once again to what she could recall of Mr. Darcy’s letter.

Mr. Wickham’s chief object was unquestionably my sister’s fortune, which is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have been complete indeed.

Consumed with such dreadful thoughts conjured up by the notion of what might have happened to young Miss Darcy had it not been for the timely intervention of a devoted older brother, Elizabeth resolved once again to retrace her steps.

I simply must find Mr. Darcy’s letter.

Chapter 2

Prospects for Felicity

Charlotte’s leisurely morning escape allowing her to avoid her husband’s company came to an end the moment she espied a letter on the side of the lane.

She threw a quick glance over her shoulder and seeing no one else about, she retrieved it. The opening salutation gave her great pause. Eliza must have dropped this, but it does not look like Jane’s penmanship. She frowned. I would say it is from her father, but by Eliza’s own account, Mr. Bennet never writes such long letters.

As tempting as it was to read the lengthy missive, doing so would have been the means of a most egregious violation of her intimate friend’s privacy. A hasty perusal of the last page drew her eyes to the letter’s closing — a somewhat charitable one at that: I will only add, God bless you. FD

Utterly astounded, Charlotte’s heart slammed against her chest.

She always knew Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy admired her friend a great deal. Realizing that the relationship between the two of them had progressed in such a manner that allowed for the exchange of written correspondence surprised her.

Charlotte, more than anyone, knew Elizabeth was rather free-spirited, but such a breach of etiquette was wholly uncharacteristic.

That is to say nothing of Mr. Darcy, himself. What might tempt him to flaunt proper decorum in such a manner as this? Unless… Charlotte silently speculated.

Folding the letter and tucking it into her pocket, she sped her pace in return to the parsonage. She planned to surrender the letter to its rightful owner. Her busy mind was full of suppositions and unanswered questions, but she did not intend to pry into Elizabeth’s private affairs. On the other hand, she certainly was not opposed to hearing whatever explanation Elizabeth might provide.

After all, Charlotte had been the one to suggest early on that Mr. Darcy was in love with Elizabeth. All the clues were there for anyone who wished to see. There was Mr. Darcy’s peculiar interest in her friend when they were all together at her father’s home, Lucas Lodge, in Hertfordshire.

Also, there was the honor he had bestowed on her by singling her out for a dance during the Netherfield ball as well as the manner in which he could often be observed looking at Elizabeth when he supposed no one noticed him doing so. True enough, Mr. Darcy had committed a most egregious error by insulting her friend at the onset of their acquaintance last autumn. By an account from none other than Elizabeth herself, the gentleman had bruised her ego quite severely when he complained to his friend, Mr. Charles Bingley, that she was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him.

I am confident he would not have spoken so harshly if he had even the vaguest hint that his words would be so hurtful if overheard. While Mr. Darcy is a proud man, I never supposed he was mean-spirited.

Charlotte recalled her exact words to her friend when Mr. Darcy called on the parsonage house not very long ago: I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would never have come so soon to wait upon me.

While Elizabeth was not eager to acknowledge, and much less appreciate, such a compliment, Charlotte was grateful enough for herself and for her friend and what it might mean for the latter’s prospects for felicity.

Finally, Mr. Darcy’s telling reaction and prompt departure from Rosings yesterday upon learning of Eliza’s ill health did not escape my notice. Surely others in our party noticed it too.

Charlotte congratulated herself for being right the entire time. With such a confirmation as this, her friend could not possibly deny it.

I know precisely how to act, Charlotte said softly. With that in mind, her spirits rose with every step she took.

What a lucky woman my friend is to have garnered the ardent affections of a man like Mr. Darcy. Surely Mrs. Bennet will be beside herself with joy, as will all the Bennets no doubt. Perchance, the matriarch of Longbourn will