Pride, Prejudice & Secrets

Also by C. P. Odom
A MOST CIVIL PROPOSAL
CONSEQUENCES

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

PRIDE, PREJUDICE & SECRETS

Copyright © 2015 by C. P. Odom

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any format whatsoever. For information: P.O. Box 34, Oysterville WA 98641

ISBN: 978-1-936009-38-1

Graphic design by Ellen Pickels

Dedication

To my wife and family for their support and understanding, and a special note to my eldest daughter, Mikaelie, for giving me a critical idea for this book since, like the heroine, she also “never gets sick.”

Introduction

History is often regarded as merely a collection of facts, people, and dates, but a closer inspection will reveal that many scenarios, which we regard as settled fact or even as inevitable, could easily have had dramatically different outcomes. If Julius Caesar had heeded the Ides of March and stayed home from the Senate, what direction would the Roman Empire have taken? What if Britain had won the Revolutionary War and kept control of the Colonies in much the same way as Canada and Australia? What if the South had won the Civil War? The possibilities are almost endless, with a branching web extending in all directions that gives rise to considerable speculation and is even reflected in a sub-genre of fiction referred to as “alternative history” novels. Since I am a long-time science fiction and history buff, I’ve purchased and read quite a few of those novels. A critical component of the best of such works is to restrict the change in history to a single critical event or decision, with all subsequent happenings hewing as close to the demonstrated characteristics of the players and the situation as possible.

But this approach can also be a lot of fun when applied to one’s favorite literary works instead of recorded history. I’ve tried to do that in this novel as well as my two previous efforts, all set in the imaginary world of Jane Austen’s signature work,
Pride and Prejudice
. The objective is the same as for alternative history: pick a critical point (Jane does give us quite a few, after all!) and then continue the story, trying to keep the characters true to the persona that Austen set down. For example, I would find it difficult to write a scenario that matches Elizabeth Bennet and George Wickham. I simply do not think I could make such a situation believable. Jane Austen created a heroine who could stand up to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who was loyal to her friend George Wickham (even though he did not deserve such loyalty), and who was independent enough to think for herself. But she also created a character too sensible to marry a man with no income. Elizabeth Bennet is as much a part of Regency society as Austen herself, and I could not make such a concept work.

I tried to keep these thoughts in mind in crafting the following tale, though I also had some fun in imagining some less likely possibilities without (hopefully) causing the affected players to break character. I’ll leave it up to the reader to determine how well my efforts succeed. Above all, have fun with this modest effort; I did when I wrote it.

— C. P. Odom

Prologue

“Not every sheer truth is the better for showing her face. Silence also many times is the wisest thing for a man to have in his mind.”

— Pindar, Ancient Greek lyric poet

Wednesday, April 8, 1812: Rosings, Kent

Fitzwilliam Darcy stretched his long legs toward the fire, grateful for the warmth on his slipper-shod feet, and took a sip of his brandy, luxuriating in the warmth that spread from his stomach. But he stoutly resisted the desire to take another sip because the last thing he needed tonight was to impair his thinking processes with an excess of drink. He had a decision to make, one with which he had struggled during the entirety of his visit to the home of his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

It was a momentous decision, the most important of his life to date, and one that brought him into emotional conflict with his own character. He was proud of his ability to control his emotions, to refrain from impulsive and illogical reactions, and he was equally proud of the honour and prestige of his family. Yet these parts of his character were at war with just that part of him which he had previously imagined fully under control  —  his passions and desires. For many days he had struggled with what his logic said he ought to do against what the emotional part of him wanted very badly to do, and he was finding the contest more contentious than it ought to be. He was, in point of fact, one very confused young man on this cool April evening, and he raked his fingers through his dark hair in the extremity of his agitation, unconscious of this mannerism and what it might reveal of his inner turmoil to those who knew him well.

One of those who knew him best sat with him tonight in his room at Rosings, sharing a late night libation before retiring. Darcy glanced up to see the penetrating eyes of his cousin upon him, and he was uncomfortably aware that those eyes were all too familiar with him, his mannerisms, and even much of his inner nature. But Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, who was his cousin by accident of birth and a close friend by years of association and affection, said nothing, glancing away to look down at his brandy snifter as he warmed the glass between his hands.

Satisfied with his efforts, Richard raised his nearly empty glass and drained it, closing his eyes in appreciation for several leisurely seconds. Then he gave a prodigious yawn, stretching his long arms and arching his back before putting down the glass and standing.

“I believe I am now ready to seek my bed, Darce,” he said, studiously not commenting on his cousin’s discomfiture. He knew Darcy was struggling with some dilemma, and he was mightily curious as to the nature of what troubled his usually imperturbable cousin. While he had certain suspicions in that direction, he found it hard to give them credence since they conflicted so greatly with Darcy’s usual nature. But, despite his interest, he had not been asked for advice, and he was far too polite to intrude uninvited into his cousin’s affairs except under circumstances more dire than this appeared to be.

“Are we still on schedule to leave Saturday?” Richard asked. “I really do need to return to the regiment soon; we are supposed to receive a draft of new troopers, and I am highly doubtful they will be anything close to fully trained.”

Darcy nodded, forcing his voice to casualness. “Yes, we leave early Saturday morning.” He had not previously explained why he had twice delayed their departure, and he did not do so now. But he could not delay his departure further as he knew his cousin Fitzwilliam did indeed need to return to his duties. Richard was a younger son, and his employment as a colonel of cavalry was required, even though his pay was not sufficient for the expenses of a young man of his standing. His father, the Earl of Matlock, provided an allowance to help make up the difference, but there were still times, such as the present, when Richard found it quite difficult to meet his obligations. His pay was predicated on the number of men available for muster, and the regiment was depleted from losses suffered in the Peninsular War in Spain and Portugal. Thus he was anxious about returning to his regiment to see to the training of the new troopers needed to bring his unit back up to strength — and to restore his finances to their former level.

“Good. Well, g’night, Darce.” The door closed behind Fitzwilliam, leaving his cousin alone with his thoughts.

Well, at least one of us is retiring,
Darcy thought, settling lower into his chair and again stretching his feet out to the warmth of the fire. He was uncomfortably aware that he was exceedingly unlikely to find the solace of his own bed any time soon, and he again wondered whether he should have asked Richard for his advice.

No,
he thought,
my own mind is too confused. How can I ask Richard if I should marry Elizabeth Bennet when I cannot determine whether I am being true to my heart or am hazarding the very name and honour of my family? It is a certainty that such a match would not be an advantageous one. Both of my parents would be aghast at the mere thought, were they still alive.

When he thought back to the previous autumn, when the two of them first met while he was visiting his friend Charles Bingley in Hertfordshire, it was still difficult for him to understand just how he had arrived at his present quandary. Nothing could have been less propitious than their first meeting at the Meryton assembly when he coolly evaluated her beauty as “tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me” and flatly rejected Bingley’s suggestion that he dance with her. He had, at the time, given little thought as to whether this thoughtless remark might or might not have been overheard, for he cared little for any of the inhabitants in the neighbourhood. Now, as he thought back to that night with mortification, he could only hope she had not heard him.

But somehow, without really understanding how it happened, his attitude toward at least one of the neighbourhood inhabitants gradually changed. While his friend looked upon Jane Bennet, Elizabeth’s older sister, with obvious admiration, Darcy initially observed the younger sister only to find points to criticize. But by some twist of fate, hardly had he made his opinion clear to his friends than he began to regard her differently. First, he was struck by the manner in which the beautiful expression in her dark eyes rendered her face uncommonly intelligent. And he scarcely had time to recover from that inner discomfiture before other observations began to intrude on his notice and disturb his composure. The first was his increased appreciation of the grace of her form. He had earlier found little symmetry in her figure, but subsequent encounters at social events caused him to change his mind. After further consideration, he came to the conclusion that her shape could be more accurately described — at least by him — as light and pleasing. And her carriage, which he first deemed to be unremarkable, later drew his eye due to its supple grace and liveliness. And his early criticism of her manners, as not being those of the fashionable world to which he was accustomed, was later overcome when he found himself attracted to her easy, playful demeanour.

But his growing attraction, as he met Miss Elizabeth Bennet at other social events and even danced with her at Bingley’s ball at Netherfield, had foundered on the rocks of what was expected of a gentleman from a family such as his own when choosing a wife. He tried to resist the growing attachment he felt for this free-spirited young lady; the selection of a suitable wife was not to be made hastily or be based on an “attraction.” Instead, as his parents had stressed, he should carefully choose a young lady from his own social class, a young lady from a good family who could bring either enhanced fortune or connections in their society to the match. And Elizabeth Bennet, despite being the daughter of a gentleman landowner, came from an undistinguished family, and her father’s estate was so modest that he had not settled anything like a suitable dowry on his daughters. So Darcy had left Hertfordshire in company with Charles Bingley, whose own romance with Elizabeth’s sister had run aground due to that sister’s serene detachment and indifference.

But, while his friend’s pain had been openly expressed, Darcy had camouflaged his distress by means of rigid self-control. He was certain no one, not even Elizabeth Bennet, ever suspected how close he had come to violating the teachings of his parents and his class by seeking a closer connection to this most bewitching young lady. He knew such a move on his part would have led inevitably and inexorably to an offer of marriage on his part.

Luckily, or so he thought at the time, he fled before he completely lost control of his life. He subsequently managed, over the months since that time in November, to settle his nerves and regain his composure, and he became certain, absolutely certain, that he had managed to lay his transitory attraction to rest. That delusional attraction would distress him no further since he would not return to Hertfordshire and would never see the alluring Miss Elizabeth Bennet again.

Then he and his cousin arrived a little over two weeks previously for their yearly visit to their aunt, who was the sister of both Darcy’s mother and Fitzwilliam’s father, only to find that self-same Elizabeth Bennet in residence in the home of his aunt’s parson, who was both her cousin and who had married her close friend Charlotte!

The stunning impact when he beheld her graceful form and expressive face on his first visit to the Parsonage or later when he met her during her daily walks had shattered his carefully constructed composure, leaving it in such utter ruin that he found himself more strongly attracted to her than had been the case the previous autumn. Of course, he could not avoid her company when she joined her cousin and his wife for dinner or tea at Rosings, which occurred regularly due to the invitation of his aunt; she seemed to be amused by the forthrightness and unpredictability of Miss Bennet. But he absolutely knew he should stay away from the Parsonage. He especially should not seek her out when she walked.

And he found it impossible to do either. He was drawn to the orbit of Elizabeth Bennet as a moth is drawn to a flame — and with the same possibility of doom if the hot flame should ignite a fire that could not be controlled.

What would Mother say?
Darcy squirmed in his seat in agitation at the thought.
She always warned me against allowing myself to be ensnared by feminine attractions or allurements, and now I have done exactly that. I am bewitched, absolutely enthralled, yet my family and friends will be shocked beyond measure if I offer marriage to this lovely and charming, though otherwise rather unremarkable, young lady, even if she is gently born.

But I am possibly more terrified by the thought of not acceding to my desires! How barren will my life be if I again flee without making my wishes known? Elizabeth almost certainly was not aware of my fascination last autumn, but she must be aware of them now. How could she not? My actions could have no other explanation than affection on my part, and the manner in which she has jousted with me shows her awareness. If I leave again, she will know I am too terrified of the conventions, of the strictures of my class, and she will have no choice but to close the door on that chapter in her life. Likely she will be sorely afflicted, and her pride is such that she could never again allow herself to be attracted — or hurt — by anything I might do.

It was this final thought that solidified his aspirations, almost like a puzzle assembling itself, and he was astonished at the manner in which his mind cleared and his hopes became fixed, all in a manner unprecedented to his experience.

I cannot live without her.
He comprehended that simple thought with complete and utter certainty, even as consternation mixed with elation filled him.
How can I turn my back on the woman who is the other part of my soul? How can I live with myself if I capitulate and settle for some vain, supercilious society lady, such as — God forbid — Charles’s sister, Caroline? Every day would be as empty as a desert! I shall have none of it!

He jumped to his feet and began to stride back and forth in his chamber, thinking, considering, and formulating. He knew his aunt had invited the party from the Parsonage to take tea at Rosings tomorrow afternoon. That would be an appropriate time. He could quietly suggest a stroll in the gardens to Elizabeth, who would be expecting something of the sort since she knew of his intended departure on Saturday.

Yes, that’s the way I shall handle it,
he thought.
Then all this discord and anxiety can be laid to rest. I want her to meet Georgiana as soon as she returns to London. She is supposed to stay another fortnight with Mrs. Collins, but that will change after our engagement is announced. And I want to show her Pemberley as soon as the wedding can be accomplished. She may have rambled in Hertfordshire and Rosings, but the walks at Pemberley are quite another matter!

And Darcy’s cheeks flushed as another thought came unbidden to his mind, the thought of the first night of their marriage, of his knock on her door, of Elizabeth turning toward him, clad in her chemise, with a smile just for him.