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  Surprised by Love

  A Darcy & Elizabeth Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Jane Wentworth

  Copyright © 2018 by Jane Wentworth

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  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 One

  “Who, Mr. Darcy, is that?”

  Elizabeth Bennet stared at the young gentleman who had entered the ballroom at Netherfield. She had never seen a young man dressed so ostentatiously. He was uncommonly handsome and carried himself with an easy grace that set him apart from the other young men present.

  When Darcy did not answer, she turned to him with a curious look. She had come to know him well since her sister married his dear friend Mr. Bingley, though there were still times when Darcy perplexed her beyond all reason.

  “What is he doing here?” Darcy muttered, almost to himself.

  “So you know him?”

  Seeing that she was not going to let the matter lie, he shook his head and sighed. “Yes, I have that misfortune.”

  Darcy gave no indication of wanting to discuss it further. His reluctance only served to heighten Elizabeth’s intrigue. “Oh Mr. Darcy,” she cried when a few moments had passed. “You cannot leave it at that. You must tell me. You are a reasonable man: what can he have done to earn your dislike?”

  He watched her for a while. “Very well then,” he said at last, shaking his head. “I suspect I shall have no peace until I tell you what I know. Let us dance.”

  Elizabeth was puzzled. It was not at all like him. In the three months or so that she had known him, she had often had to coax him into dancing. In fact, she was the only person that he seemed to be able to bring himself to dance with, which secretly gave her a great deal of pleasure.

  He must have taken her silence as reluctance. “Do you not wish to? You are always harassing me to dance.”

  She laughed. “Of course I do.” And she did. Because for all his initial reluctance to take to the floor, Darcy had proved himself a rather fine dancer. “I was surprised that you suggested it. That is all.”

  She stared up into his eyes as the next set started up. She had heard the whispers within her family. Her mother was no longer quite so frantic about finding them husbands now that Jane had married Bingley, but she had not fully retired from her meddling. Speculation was rife within the Bennet household that Darcy would ask for Elizabeth’s hand any day now. She did not know how she felt about that. The truth was, she did not dare to hope. They were friends—that did not mean Darcy’s feelings for her ran any deeper.

  “Now Darcy,” she teased, as the dancing started. “You must not force me to dance in utter silence as you usually do.”

  He groaned. “I am beginning to regret even suggesting it. What is wrong with dancing in silence?”

  “Everything! It is a social occasion.” He spun her around and she caught sight of the dapper young gentleman once again. He was breathtaking in his finery, which was all the more apparent in contrast to his companion, who seemed to almost resent being there. “Who is she? She does not seem at all happy to be with him.”

  Darcy sighed heavily. “I can see I shall have no peace until I tell you. It is not a particularly pleasant story. She is Cynthia Wickham, formerly St. John. He is George Wickham.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Are they married or related? She does not seem at all happy to be in his presence.”

  “I doubt she is,” he said with a small humourless laugh. “It is all quite regrettable really. I cannot imagine anyone being happy in that awful man’s presence—especially his wife.”

  “Why?” she gasped, staring at the man again. “He looks the very picture of elegance.”

  “Ah yes,” Darcy said, swinging her around to face him again. “He does. And that handsome facade hides a heart of stone and a mind as devious as a snake’s. He is her husband. And she adored him once. Believe it or not, she was the most beautiful girl in town at one point. Sadly, her parents were less than strict with her. Wickham charmed her at every ball in town and then ensured he was invited to the same country estate as she was for the summer.” He shook his head sadly. “I do not know if he played a hand in it, but their party went to Dunheights, which is coincidentally only a short distance from the border to Scotland.” He shook his head. “I do not think it was a coincidence at all.”

  “No,” Elizabeth gasped, forgetting herself entirely. She stopped and almost collided with another dancer. “What did her family do?”

  “There was nothing they could do,” Darcy murmured. “It was too late by the time they got wind of it. What could they do? As their daughter’s husband, Wickham took control of the fortune she had inherited from her mother’s side, as was his right by law. And he proceeded to squander it away. Every penny. Rumour has it that he pawned her jewels too. The poor girl now relies on her parents’ charity, though every penny finds its way into Wickham’s pockets to spend as he pleases.” Darcy turned and stared in his direction. “Is it any wonder he is so well turned out?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. She had never heard anything so scandalous. “My goodness. How frightful. What a shame it is that no-one could warn them of his ways.”

  At this, Darcy appeared almost repentant. “Indeed,” he said. “I have known Wickham for years. At one point, we were as brothers growing up on my father’s estate, where his father was the steward. As shocking as this marriage was, it was not entirely a surprise, we shall say. If I had only known…” He shook his head. “Wickham is not without wits. I only learned of the courtship when it was too late and they were already married.”

  “Oh,” she said, for she could think of nothing else. She could not stop looking at the young lady now. How forlorn she seemed.

  “I urge you to stay away from him and tell your sisters to do the same. No good can come of associating with that fellow.”

  Elizabeth smiled. She might have been worried about her youngest sister at one time, but Lydia seemed to have her heart set on marrying one of the young men from the regiment that was currently quartered in Meryton.

  The song ended and they moved away off the floor.

  “There you both are,” Mrs. Bennet said with a smile. “What a handsome pair you make.”

  Elizabeth cringed and wondered why her mother had to be so indiscreet. She did not even dare look at Darcy, who was no doubt horrified.

  Indeed, it did not take him long to make his excuses and leave. “I must go and speak to Bingley.”

  She nodded, still not able to bring herself to look him in the eye. She watched him go with a sense of loss she could not quite explain.

  Chapter Two

  Elizabeth wandered around the crowd in a daze. She had once taken much pleasure from dancing the night away, but lately she had lost her passion for it. She could not quite explain why. She danced whenever she was asked, of course, but it did not feel as wonderful as
it had before. Even with young men who danced well.

  Darcy.

  He was the one exception. It was as if he had soured her to every other gentleman of her acquaintance. He was more intelligent. More handsome. He was more amusing, even, though it had taken her months to realise that his rather serious demeanour hid a wonderful sense of humour.

  She sighed as she watched Jane and Bingley move gracefully across the floor. What she would not give to find a love like they had. They adored each other equally. All of her female relations had made a great deal of fuss about how Jane’s marriage would widen the other girls’ social circles—which it had. The problem was the new young men she met were inferior to Darcy too.

  She looked around. She had not seen him for a while. She smiled at the sight of Caroline Bingley on the other side of the dancers, also scanning the crowd. Miss Bingley’s eyes lit up and Elizabeth followed her gaze, not at all surprised to see it was Darcy she had been searching for.

  She was surprised by the knot of jealousy she felt in her gut at the thought of it, for Miss Bingley was surely a more suitable wife for him than she would ever be.

  My goodness, she thought. How could I have fallen so deeply for him without even realising it?

  Darcy was in the corner speaking intently to the Wickham fellow who had made such an entrance earlier. Beside him, any other young man would have looked so ordinary and unremarkable, but not Darcy. He looked proud in his fine coat and breeches. No, not only that. The other man did not seem quite so elegant in Darcy’s presence.

  She looked away, dismayed.

  This cannot be! I must not allow myself to think about him in this manner. After all, Darcy speaks his mind. If he felt any affection at all towards me, he would surely have expressed it. It was Darcy, after all, who had encouraged Bingley to follow his heart and propose to Jane. He was not a man who allowed anything to stand in the way of love.

  She swallowed and returned her gaze to Jane and Bingley. How could she feel sorry for herself when watching them, the very picture of love?

  “Where is your Mr. Darcy?”

  Elizabeth turned. With all the noise of the crowd she had not heard her younger sister Lydia approach. “Lydia,” she snapped, embarrassed. She had laughed off their rather unsubtle remarks before, but now that she was realising the true extent of her feelings, it was not as easy to do so. “Stop that nonsense. It only reflects poorly on you.”

  Lydia said nothing, which was unusual. She tended to rail against her elder sisters when they scolded her. When Elizabeth turned, she found her sister was not even listening. “Who on earth is that?” Lydia gasped, pointing towards the corner of the room.

  “That’s Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth started to say, before shaking her head. Of course Lydia was not referring to Darcy, whom they had all known for months; who dined with them several times each week. “That is Mr. Wickham.”

  “Have you ever seen anyone so handsome, Lizzy?”

  Elizabeth frowned, troubled by what she had just heard. The last she knew, Lydia had declared herself besotted with Mr. Denny, one of the men from the regiment. “It is all rather ostentatious, do you not think?”

  “No, I do not,” Lydia cried, twirling on the spot. “He is magnificent! And so handsome.”

  “Well he is married,” Elizabeth said. For a moment she almost added Darcy’s warning that they ought to stay away from him, but it seemed an odd thing to say since Darcy himself was talking to the man.

  “Oh.” Lydia pouted as if she had never received such bad news. “What a pity. To whom, Lizzy? She had better be pretty.”

  “What does it matter?” Elizabeth turned around, feeling no small amount of irritation. Her sister could be so callous sometimes. She may not have known Wickham’s wife, but who could fail to feel sorry for such a sad-looking young woman?

  “Well? I expect she is a beauty,” she said with a dramatic sigh.

  “I cannot see her,” Elizabeth said, looking around. “She was standing by the door a short while ago.”

  “She must be here somewhere! If I was married to him I would not let him out of my sight.”

  “Lydia, you cannot…”

  “Oh Lizzy, why are you such a prude? It is true! He is a catch and we are at a ball. Perhaps I shall go and stand close to him to see if he will ask me to dance.”

  “You shall do no such thing!” Elizabeth looked around in vain for their mother. Jane and Bingley had disappeared now. “Lydia, you must promise me. You cannot go off chasing a married man. Think how it would look!”

  Lydia pouted and seemed about to respond, but then she turned away. Elizabeth looked back to see what the reason was for this and almost collided with Mr. Darcy.

  “Miss Bennet.”

  Mr. Darcy.”

  He looked from one sister to the other. “Have I interrupted?”

  Lydia huffed and started to walk towards the corner. Elizabeth started after her.

  “What is it?” Darcy asked, alarmed.

  “It is your Mr. Wickham,” she said, knowing she ought not to say anything but unable to stop herself. None of her family was in sight and she had to stop Lydia. “She seems intent on pursuing him.”

  Darcy’s expression darkened. “My goodness, Miss Bennet. I told you—you and your sisters must stay well clear of that man!”

  “You had no problem speaking to him.”

  “I was telling him in no uncertain terms that he must watch his behaviour here.”

  By now, Darcy was red in the face. Elizabeth watched in horror as Lydia twirled her way towards the corner, catching the man’s eye almost immediately. He watched her with a half-amused look that seemed to Elizabeth the very definition of predatory.

  “Oh my goodness,” she muttered, clasping her hand to her chest. Was there no end to that girl’s foolishness? “Excuse me, Mr. Darcy. I must stop my sister before she does something we all regret.”

  “No.” Darcy grabbed her wrist to stop her. He held her for no more than a second, but it was enough. His touch seared through Elizabeth, setting off feelings she had never know before or ever thought possible. “I will go. I will get rid of him for good, as I should have done a long time ago.”

  Chapter Three

  Elizabeth watched in horror, convinced that a terrible scene was about to unfold. How could it not, with Lydia involved and with what she knew of Wickham’s nature?

  But it did not. Darcy marched over to the man and pulled him back towards the corner. She could not see his face, but she could tell from the stiffness of the man’s back that he was not pleased with whatever Darcy was saying. Meanwhile, noticing that her target had been waylaid, Lydia turned and shot a disgusted look in Elizabeth’s direction. Elizabeth shrugged. She would put up with Lydia’s bad humour if it meant saving her from a scandal that would not only ruin her own reputation but that her unmarried sisters.

  What was she thinking? she thought, furious at the girl.

  “Lizzy, there you are,” Charlotte Lucas said breathlessly.

  Elizabeth turned and smiled. Charlotte was her dearest friend, who had become engaged to Elizabeth’s cousin Mr. Collins after Elizabeth had turned down his proposal. She was not entirely thrilled about the union—or about the fact that Charlotte would soon depart for Kent, which seemed impossibly far away.

  They were close confidants and both delighted in discussing their younger sisters’ foolish behaviour. “Oh Charlotte, you have missed a rather terrible scene. Lydia got it in her head that she ought to charm the new arrival and—“

  “That handsome young man with the poor waif of a wife?”

  “Yes, that very one. Have you seen him?”

  “How could I not? Mama was intent on securing him for Maria until we learnt that he is married to that poor thing who accompanied him. I assumed she was a sickly sister before we were all introduced.”

  “As did I! The poor thing, she does not look at all pleased to be here,” Elizabeth whispered. “As well she should not. Lydia has set her sigh
ts on him despite knowing he is taken.”

  “No,” Charlotte gasped, looking around. “Where is he?”

  “He is over there with Mr. Darcy. Close to where Lydia is…” she frowned. There was no sign of either man now.

  “I cannot see him anywhere.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. They had been there just a moment before. How had they simply disappeared like that? She did not know, but she felt no small amount of relief. She could not help but think they had come close to catastrophe.

  * * *

  Later, after Elizabeth had spoken to her father and he had insisted on taking Lydia home at once, she decided to walk in the gardens. She had spent a lot of time at Netherfield since it became her sister’s home and she was now intimately familiar with every inch of the place. Even though it was a fine house, she loved the gardens most. They had discovered a maze in the grounds, which seemed to have been forgotten and let go to seed. Bingley’s gardener had set to work on restoring it and now it was a well-manicured oasis of peace and tranquillity. At the centre, there was a little fountain with two benches on either side. To Elizabeth, it was the most peaceful place imaginable and she often went there when she wished to clear her mind.

  The beauty of it was that no-one else seemed aware of the maze—or if they were, they showed little interest in finding their way to the centre. It often seemed like it was the only place that was truly hers.

  So it came as a surprise when she arrived breathlessly at the centre to find one of the benches occupied.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she cried.

  “Miss Bennet.” He stood and bowed. “You are so very fond of this place. I fear I have intruded.”