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  For Miss Bennet's Honour

  A Darcy and Elizabeth Pride and Prejudice Variation

  By

  Sophia Woodford

  Copyright © 2018

  For Miss Bennet's Honour

  Peace has been declared with France, and it seems all Elizabeth Bennet has to worry about is avoiding her mother's insistence on marriage – until her youngest sister, Lydia, runs off abroad with Mr. Wickham. Though her father seems unconcerned, Elizabeth is determined to rescue her sister and save the family's reputation. After a misunderstanding leaves her sailing alone except for her maid, Elizabeth encounters the one man she never hoped to see again – Mr. Darcy.

  Still stung from Miss Bennet's spirited rejection of his proposal, Mr. Darcy offers to help his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, track down a runaway turncoat in France. The Channel ought to be wide enough to put Elizabeth's bright eyes behind him. But no sooner has he set foot on board ship but he runs into the very woman he was hoping to avoid.

  Caught between admiration and dismay, protectiveness and scorn, Darcy and Elizabeth are soon thrown together on the trail of Lydia and Wickham – a hunt that will take them across Normandy, from officers' balls to subversive book clubs. Can they track down the runaways? And will their grudging collaboration turn to a different kind of respect?

  Author's note on timeline

  I have moved the action of Pride and Prejudice a little back in time, to 1803, to take advantage of an odd historical moment known as the Peace of Amiens, when Great Britain and Republican France, under the new government of Napoleon Bonaparte, were cautiously and optimistically at peace. Although Pride and Prejudice was published in 1813, and the events in the novel are usually dated to 1811-12, it existed in draft form at the time of these events (Jane Austen first drafted it in 1796-7); and I hope readers will accept this book as a variation on the story.

  Table of Contents

  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.

  Chapter 26.

  Chapter 27.

  Chapter 28.

  Chapter 29.

  Chapter 30.

  Chapter 31.

  Chapter 32.

  Chapter 33.

  Chapter 34.

  Chapter 35.

  Chapter 36.

  Chapter 37.

  Chapter 38.

  Chapter 39.

  Chapter 40.

  Chapter 41.

  Chapter 42.

  Chapter 42.

  Historical notes and further reading

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Chapter 1.

  "Peace, peace, joyful peace," Lydia sang. Various items of clothing were strewn around the front room of Longbourn: ribbons thick and thin, gloves of many lengths, a comb here, flowers there. Elizabeth, sitting on the sopha with her stockinged feet up and her head on the arm, frowned as she tried to read her book.

  "Should I wear my blue and white ribbon tonight, do you think? With a red sprig?" Lydia held them up to her face to compare. "It is very funny that they are the same colours here and there, do you not think?"

  "I do not know," Elizabeth said sourly.

  "Lizzy!" Jane said low.

  "I do not care for any shade of red, never mind blue and white. I would be happy if I never saw another young man in my life," Elizabeth grumbled.

  For perhaps the first time in her life, Elizabeth did not want to go to a dance. Being offered two marriage proposals, by the two most disagreeable men in England, had put her off young men for good, or at least the next month or so. She wondered who would offer for her next – perhaps First Consul Napoleon Bonaparte might ride up to Longbourn's door and ask to speak to her father. Elizabeth could hardly look less favourably on such a proposal than those that had already been thrown at her feet.

  Her bad mood was worsened by her mother's dire insistence that the loss of Mr. Bingley from Netherfield had scuppered Jane's chances with that gentleman, and therefore her daughters must pay especial attention to their marital prospects. After long years of war, a careful peace had been declared with France, and there was a dance at the Assembly Rooms in Meryton to celebrate; and so the girls must dress up, and put on their best attitudes. Mrs. Bennet had pulled Louise, their French housemaid, from helping in the kitchen that night to style the girls' hair. Many of the officers had good private incomes, and would be leaving Meryton soon due to the disbanding of the militias. Mrs. Bennet was keen that the evening should not be wasted.

  But Elizabeth did not want to go. She hardly wanted to leave the house. She wanted to walk in the fields around Longbourn until she forgot herself, and made herself too tired to dream that night. She wanted to sit in the library with her father and share a glass of brandy, as she did after dinner some evenings when Lydia and Kitty had been particularly difficult. She wanted to be left in peace to finish her novel.

  But Mrs. Bennet would not hear of it. Elizabeth had already disfavoured herself in her eyes with her refusal of Mr. Collins, and she must put on a good face and dance with as many officers as would have her.

  "Now, if one of them tries to draw you out of doors for a breath of air, be hesitant but not too hesitant," she instructed the girls from the landing. "Men like to work for things – but not too hard!"

  The door to the library creaked open.

  "Mrs. Bennet," said her husband, "is it no longer possible to get even three minutes' peace all together? The Government and the French have managed it, and I do not see that our present situation is more difficult or fraught than theirs."

  Mrs. Bennet asserted that Mr. Addington may be a fine Minister in many things, but he did not have to manage with five unmarried daughters.

  Elizabeth, agreeing with her father, closed her book rather too loudly, and stalked upstairs.

  Chapter 2.

  Two hours later, she and Jane were dressing, Jane excitedly, Elizabeth reluctantly.

  "Just get through tonight, then we will be off to London tomorrow," Jane said, catching her sister's bad mood. The two were going for a short visit to their aunt and uncle's, setting off the next morning.

  Their bedroom door opened, and their mother inserted her head, the curl-papers still in her ringlets.

  "Do not forget your new flowers!" Mrs. Bennet said. "The poesies for Jane, I think – and the twists of daisies for Lizzy – no – perhaps – "

  "Thank you, Mother," Elizabeth said. She quietly shut the door and returned to helping Jane dress, but seconds later it opened and Louise blew in. "Un minute, I need to see what your sisters are wearing!" she said over her shoulder to Kitty and Lydia.

  Louise's French accent was still very strong, after more than ten years in England. She had come here as a refugee from the Revolution, where she had been a lady's maid to a minor member of the aristocracy; but fearing for her life during the Terror, she had fled to London, and ended up in the employment of the Gardiners, as a maid for Madeleine. Several years later, the Gardiners had taken her on a visit to Longbourn, and Louise had loved the country so much that she w
istfully asked if she could stay. After discreet enquiries, Edward Gardiner found that the Bennets' housemaid Sarah would be more than happy to go live in London in the employ of a lawyer's household; and so a simple exchange was made, and great happiness increased on both sides. More than both sides, for Mrs. Bennet appreciated the touch of fashion that a "real French maid, haute de toity!" brought to her daughters' coiffure, and Mr. Bennet appreciated Louise's strong hand on the spices in the kitchen.

  Closing the door behind her back, Louise pushed a stray curl out of her face and put her hand on her waist. "These girls, I swear!" she said. Elizabeth and Jane looked at each other and smiled. They often commiserated with Louise about their younger sisters' demanding ways, and were more than happy to provide their bedroom as a refuge when it was needed.

  "Jane and I will be easy to manage, don't worry," Elizabeth said, with good humour. "I have no aspirations in the direction that Kitty and Lydia have, with the regiment, and anyway I suspect there will be enough competition for their attention tonight. And Jane is so pretty by nature that there is never much work to do with her, since artifice would only spoil it."

  "Mm, but it is the natural beauty that is often the most difficult," Louise said, looking critically at Jane, who blushed. "It must be displayed to its best advantage. If you will please, one moment – " she retrieved a pin case from the bag at her waist, and began to pin up Jane's hair, stopping every once and again to look at her own work and tilt Jane's head here and there. Elizabeth watched her in half wonder, half admiration.

  Soon Jane's hair was soon set to a perfection that even Elizabeth had to admit was an elevation of her inherent good looks; and with their sisters impatient at their heels, all the girls were soon seated in the carriage, and off to Meryton.

  "Au revoir!" Lydia said, waving gaily at the housemaids. She turned to Mary. "I've been practicing with Louise, for my accomplishments. That means 'I'll see you later'."

  "Do you really pronounce the 'r' like that?" Elizabeth said, but she was not attended to, which in her current state of mind was well enough. She was thinking of the last dance she had attended in the Assembly Rooms, and ruefully hoped that this evening would be more pleasant than that one had been.

  The rooms were lit up brightly, although rationing meant they were using tallow candles which gave the room a difficult smell. Elizabeth surreptitiously asked a servant to open a window, and was gratified with a thankful nod.

  Despite her sour mood, Elizabeth sparkled. While Jane was, as always, the belle of the evening, Elizabeth managed to attract her fair share of interest, and for the first set she did not sit a dance out. She also managed to avoid speaking to Mr. Wickham, whose company she regretted; and anyway, he was getting more than enough attention from Kitty and Lydia.

  Elizabeth was a little dispirited at her younger sisters' blatant appeals for the handsome soldiers' attention, but she could not see how to persuade them to behave without appearing to be jealous herself. She simply kept to the other side of the room, as much as she could, and tried to pay as little attention to their antics as possible.

  After a particularly vigorous country set, Elizabeth slipped away to sit outside the hot room and fan herself without the risk of being interrupted. The prospect of leaving Hertfordshire had agitated the militiamen, and all of them were keen to dance. Elizabeth did not want to decline and risk it getting back to her mother, but nor did she want to spend the next twenty minutes in dancing.

  Elizabeth's tread was light, and her slippers were soft, which was why Kitty and Lydia did not hear her approach, and she was able to hear the end of their conversation:

  "It would be such a joke," Lydia said, "can you imagine? And what a surprise for Mama – after all it's exactly what she's always wanted for us!"

  "But are you sure that's what he meant?" Kitty said.

  "Don't be stupid, what else could it be?" Lydia scoffed. "And it will be so glamorous, of course – just think!" She did not wait for a response before pressing on: "I'm sure I shall be the most interesting lady there, and maybe the first English lady they have met! I'm sure they will want to talk to me, and dance with me, and maybe even – oh, just think!"

  Elizabeth, who had by now hear enough to become more than alarmed, stepped forward and interrupted her sisters. "What is the meaning of this?" she cried.

  "Never you mind, Lizzy," Lydia said with a haughty tone that would have been comic in one so young, if Elizabeth had not been truly worried. "It is none of your concern."

  "It mostly certainly is my concern," Elizabeth said. But none of her badgering would persuade Lydia to share any more of what she had been speaking of, and Kitty only shook her head and pressed her lips together.

  More annoyed than ever, and verging on genuine alarm, Elizabeth retreated to the punch bowl. She told herself that Lydia was silly, but she was not necessarily stupid. She would dearly like to have believed this, and after several minutes of thinking it, halfway convinced herself that it was true.

  A gentleman's voice, low and close, surprised her.

  "What are you thinking of, Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Wickham asked. "Will this peace be a boon or a curse?"

  Not expecting to be interrupted, Elizabeth was startled into honesty. "I am pleased for the young men, but I do not think it will last," she said. "Bonaparte is ambitious."

  "Indeed," he said. "He is both ambitious and clever, two things very dangerous in an enemy."

  "But of course, I hope the peace will continue," Elizabeth said hastily. "I do not see that anything good has come of this war."

  "Anything good!" Mr. Wickham said. "Come, I am sure you can think of something. A small thing – anything will do. No? I will begin. It has given many men a good living, who might not otherwise have found one. It has sent many men overseas who might otherwise be a danger to their neighbourhoods. And," he said, smiling and opening his hands, "it has given many ladies in England a dancing partner, when they might not have had one. The dancing in Meryton was much duller before the regiment came – come, you cannot deny it, your sisters have told me so."

  Elizabeth could not, though Mr. Wickham's familiarity with her sisters made her uncomfortable. "This war has indeed brought our introduction, that is something I can say of it," she said.

  As she had intended, he took this as a compliment. "And now it seems the militia must leave Meryton, which is a great shame for me, to lose the friendship of such amiable ladies," he said. "But I hope it will not be the last I see of you. For who knows – the ways of Fortune are mysterious."

  Elizabeth made no reply but a curtsey, and Mr. Wickham bowed, and seeing that she would not be drawn further in conversation, he moved away in the direction of the card tables.

  The dancing ended very early, at barely midnight, as the officers were meeting the regional commander that morning and wished for some sleep, and some of the soldiers becoming rather too merry.

  To make up for the curtailment of the evening's entertainment, Sir William and Lady Lucas offered the Bennets a nightcap at Lucas Lodge. Jane, Kitty and Lydia were agreeable to the proposal, while Elizabeth and Mary preferred to return home and retire early, Elizabeth now with a bad headache. This presented a problem with carriages. First it was proposed that the Lucases drive Elizabeth and Mary home, then return to theirs, but this would mean the Bennets' carriage arriving first at Lucas Lodge, with their hosts following, which would not do. Then it was proposed that all the Bennets take their carriage first to Longbourn, and exit Elizabeth and Mary, with Jane, Kitty and Lydia continuing to Lucas Lodge, and returning again; but Mr. Bennet did not want to tire the horses with so much travel, as they would be carrying Elizabeth and Jane to London the next morning. Elizabeth got into and out of her own carriage three times, before finally sitting herself there and refusing to move. Mary sat next to her; then Kitty came in, sat for a moment, and got out again; and finally the carriage left, containing Mrs. Bennet, Mary, and Elizabeth, and travelled to Longbourn – via Luca
s Lodge, where they deposited Mrs. Bennet.

  Between the bundling back and forth, goodbyes, and exchanging of coats and pelisses, neither Mrs. Bennet, nor Sir William, nor any of the girls noticed that neither of the carriages contained Lydia.

  Chapter 3.

  "On! Faster, blast it!"

  Darcy was out early. Unable to sleep in, he had ordered his favourite horse saddled and ready before dawn, and had been riding for nearly three hours as the morning light crept over the hills and turned the misty sky from soft grey, to lush pink, to summery blue. The green dales of Pemberley spread before him – but his horse was flagging. Understandable; but Darcy was not yet tired, nor was he ready to return to the house.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam was staying at Pemberley for the summer, as he usually did. In years previous, the cousins needed the time together after their Easter visit to Rosings to laugh over whatever silliness their aunt had come out with this time. But this year, Darcy was in no mood to discuss the visit's events with his cousin. Richard had got on very well with Miss Bennet – Darcy could still perfectly picture her laughing face turned up to his cousin's easy joking – and compared that face with his own reception.

  "Faster!"

  But with a protest, his horse refused, panting; and Darcy realised what he had been asking of the poor creature. He dismounted and patted him, reassuring him he would not press him any further, and turned back to the house.

  The mist was rising over the green leaves of the walk, and Darcy breathed in the fresh early morning air. Although the sun promised a warm day, the air was still cool and pleasant, and he was glad he had chosen this time to go outside. The sky was a clear, pale blue, deepening into a brighter shade towards the east, over Pemberley house. It was, in every way that nature could make it, a perfect day.

  Why on this blasted earth did he still feel so miserable?

  He knew why. He did not know Miss Bennet's mind. Not in that area – that he had written off entirely. But he had hoped that his explanation of his behaviour would at least bring her to be able to speak to him. Instead she had hidden from him for the rest of his visit, petulantly refusing to show herself, to give him any sign of her mind or understanding after he had bared his heart to her – twice! – in person and in writing.