With the Colonel’s Help: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

The sun was just stretching its fingers above the horizon, poking them into windows, waggling them under noses and across eyes, and stirring the occupants within their dwellings when Elizabeth stretched and yawned as she rose. Her sleep had not been sound, and her body wished for her to pull the blankets up to ward off the advances of the day and continue its repose. However, Elizabeth could not indulge in such luxuries if she wished to have a cup of tea before her walk. If she lounged in bed for too long, she would doubtlessly meet with either Charlotte or Mr. Collins, and she felt unprepared to meet either this morning. The information contained within the letter under her pillow still weighed heavily upon her mind, and she wished for some fresh air in which to think before she met with the colonel and Mr. Darcy.

She paused in her morning rituals and ran a hand over the book of verse that sat on her dressing table. She flipped it open to the place that was held by a length of material stitched with several small flowers and a heart. At the bottom of the bookmark was a single elegant G, indicating it had obviously been made for him by his sister.

She read the poem on the marked page and wondered again at Mr. Darcy’s having given the book to her before he had even finished reading it. She knew he had not completed it, not only because of the marker but also because this was a book they had discussed wishing to read when at Netherfield, and at that time, neither of them owned it.

She closed the book and hurried through the rest of her preparations, slipping into a green day dress and styling her hair simply. Then, she tucked his letter into her pocket and, taking up her bonnet and his book, slipped out of the room and down the stairs.

She was just finishing her tea when Charlotte arrived in the morning room. “Good morning,” Elizabeth greeted as she rose to leave. “I was just on my way for a walk.”

“Are you planning to spend some time reading?” asked Charlotte, noting the book Elizabeth carried.

“Yes, it is a book I have not yet read.”

Charlotte raised a questioning brow.

“Mr. Darcy loaned it to me,” Elizabeth explained, “and I would like to return it to him before he leaves for town.”

Charlotte’s eyes grew wide. “Is he not leaving today? I know you read quickly, but surely even you could not be finished in time to return it to him before he departs.”

Elizabeth sighed and stood impatiently at the door. She did not wish to answer questions. She longed to be outdoors and alone with her thoughts. “Colonel Fitzwilliam said they may not leave until tomorrow or Monday.”

“Interesting,” said Charlotte, the corners of her mouth turning up ever so slightly. “It seems their departure will coincide with yours. I wonder…” her voice trailed off as Elizabeth gave an exasperated sigh.

Elizabeth did not wish to hear Charlotte’s theories on Mr. Darcy’s actions, for Elizabeth was no longer certain how to interpret that gentleman. She had thought she knew him. However, after having read that letter — the letter that shared all the details Mr. Wickham had conveniently left out of his tales, the same letter that told how Mr. Darcy’s sister had fallen prey to the schemes of Mr. Wickham –, she knew that whatever she had thought Mr. Darcy to be was completely and utterly wrong.

Seeing that her friend was not going to provide any further information or argument, Charlotte sighed in resignation. “Very well,” she said, “I shall wonder on my own until you return.”

Elizabeth nearly flew out of the room and the house, desperate to be away and alone for the time it would take her to walk to the grove and meet the gentlemen.

Darcy and Richard were waiting on a bench under a large tree in the grove. As Elizabeth approached, they both rose to greet her and then joined her, each gentleman taking a place on opposite sides of her. Together, they walked in silence for a short distance. Elizabeth knew what must be done, but an admission of errors was never easy. Eventually, she spoke.

“I must apologize, Mr. Darcy,” she began the small speech she had practiced. “I should not have listened to Mr. Wickham, and I should not have been so critical of your behaviour when you were in Hertfordshire.” She drew a quick breath and hurried on, hoping that haste would make the shame of her previous actions more bearable. “You may find it interesting to know that Jane told me not to listen to Mr. Wickham. She also scolded me about my criticism of you and insisted there must be a reason for your behaviour, for a gentleman could not be friends with Mr. Bingley and be anything less than perfect in her eyes. However, I chose not to listen and allowed my pride to rule my actions. For that, I am truly sorry.” She studied the ground in front of her. Her cheeks burned, and tears stung her eyes.

Richard gave Darcy a surprised look, which was returned in kind. An apology was not at all what either gentleman had expected. However, it was a fortuitous advance in their position, for which Richard was pleased. However, he also did not want Miss Bennet thinking herself unworthy of a man such as Darcy and once self-depreciation began, some individuals fell prey to its destruction more quickly than others. He did not know if Miss Bennet was one of those sorts of people, but he was not willing to accept the risk.

“Do not regret listening to Wickham,” Richard said in an attempt to mitigate the damage over-blown guilt might wreak. “You must remember he is a practiced liar of the worst sort. Many, many people have fallen victim to his lies.”

“I appreciate your words, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the fact that Mr. Wickham is a practiced deceiver does not negate the fact that I failed to listen to sound reason and chose to disparage your cousin because of my wounded pride. I will not so quickly place my responsibility beside the road. It is mine to own.”

“As you wish, Miss Bennett,” conceded Richard. He had heard similar comments all his life from Darcy and knew that argument was useless. “Do you have any questions regarding what you read last night?”

She shrugged. “The letter was so very thorough and clear that I do not find I have any issue with the content. I do, however, wish to ask you how you feel I should use this information to protect myself as well as my friends and family from Mr. Wickham.” She attempted to brush a wayward tear away unnoticed. However, she was not successful and soon found herself in possession of Mr. Darcy’s handkerchief. It was difficult in and of itself to consider how she had been fooled and how foolishly she had acted without her emotions being stirred, but when one added to that the knowledge of how perilously close Miss Darcy had come to ruin, the task became insurmountable.

“His tales are convincing. They contain just enough truth to be believed.” Darcy smiled at her, hoping she understood that he did not blame her for being drawn in by Wickham. “Sharing the information regarding the living at Kympton, and the money that was given and squandered, should do some good in discrediting Mr. Wickham.” He paused. “As to my sister. I should think her ordeal may be spoken of in generalities — a young lady of means was deceived, he sought not her heart but her fortune, that sort of thing. Your father must know of any danger Wickham might pose to your sisters.”

Elizabeth stopped and looked up at him. Could she trust another with such information about one of her sisters as he was willingly placing in her hand? He must think very highly of her to do so. The small furrow between his eyes and the set of his mouth let her know that it was not easily done. It was a decision to trust — a decision he needed to know had not been made in error.

“I will share what I know of Mr. Wickham’s true nature,” she said, “but please know that I will protect your sister.”

“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth.”

His reply was little more than a whisper, and she was startled by the glistening she saw in his eyes before he quickly looked away. How he must have suffered!

“Was there anything else you wished to know?” Richard asked. Elizabeth was as fine a lady as he had met. Her willingness to admit her wrong and to not excuse it when given a chance, as well as the fierceness with which she pledged to protect Georgiana, stood as a testament to that fact. Darcy would do very well with this woman at his side.

Elizabeth’s brows furrowed as she thought. “No,” she finally said slowly, drawing out the word as her head began shaking from side to side and then stopped. “Actually, yes. There is one thing I would like to ask.”

“Go on,” Richard encouraged.

“How is Miss Darcy?”

Her question touched the hearts of both men, one perhaps more than the other. Richard was able to speak first, “She is not quite herself yet. She is making improvements, but the process is slow.”

They walked in silence for a while before Elizabeth spoke again. “She will never be herself again, you know. Every experience changes us to some extent, and the greater the emotional drain, whether happy or sad, the greater the change. When she recovers, for how can she not with such good guardians, she will be stronger, but she will not be the young girl she was before the incident. And, you gentlemen will no doubt experience a period of mourning as a result. Have you prepared yourself for that?”

“I had not thought of it in such a way,” Darcy admitted, looking at Richard.

“Nor had I,” Richard agreed, “although it makes perfect sense.”

“It often takes a woman to make sense of things, you know,” teased Elizabeth in an attempt to lighten the mood. Thankfully, it worked, and both men chuckled.

“While we are on the topic of sisters,” Darcy’s heart beat a loud rhythm in his chest. He hoped that the discussion he was about to begin would not end in disaster. “Might I inquire as to how your eldest sister fares?”

Darcy noted how Elizabeth’s posture became noticeably more rigid and knew that the topic he had introduced was one that was, as he had feared it might be, fraught with unpleasant emotions. However, it could not be helped. The subject must be broached. His guilt in having committed a grievous wrong must be either confirmed, as he very much suspected it would be, and felt more fully or denied and, therefore, allayed.

“My sister, much like yours, is not herself at the moment, I am afraid.” Elizabeth gave him a tight smile.

Scenes of the tears of anguish that he had witnessed from his sister upon her first discovering of Wickham’s perfidy and the sorrow that followed and still played with his sister’s heart rose unbidden in Darcy’s mind, and he steeled himself before continuing. That he could be the cause of such suffering was not easily faced, but it was necessary that it be, for there could be no correction of an error if the wrongdoing was not first recognized. “Is this due to the defection of Bingley from Netherfield?”

“Yes,” was her only response.

Darcy waited to see if she would say anything further on the subject, but after a minute or two of listening only to their footfalls on the path, he pushed on.

“Why has Bingley’s departure affected her so?” It was a rather forward and prying question, he knew, and he attempted to ask it as gently as he could. However, he needed to know how much damage his actions might have caused.

“Because she is heartbroken, sir,” Elizabeth’s reply was barely above a whisper, and though the thought of her sister’s unhappiness pierced her heart, to Elizabeth’s surprise, she felt no anger.

“So she had formed an attachment to my friend?” It was as Bingley had claimed, and Darcy had refused to accept. Silently, he rebuked himself for his arrogant assumption that Bingley was merely caught in a moment of infatuation and thus unable to see the situation for what it was.

Elizabeth nodded. “A deep one, I fear, though she has not admitted such. My sister, you see, does not show her feelings openly. There are many times that not even I know what they are. However, at present, she is incapable of concealing her hurt, and that is why she is in London. In town, she may grieve without question.”

Darcy shook his head. How excruciatingly wrong he had been! “I did not know. If I had known, I would have never…” His voice trailed off, and he looked away.

“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth laid a hand lightly on his arm, “I am not justifying whatever part you have played in my sister’s present sorrow. However, I can understand it, for I am fairly confident I would have done the same thing if I suspected that Jane or some other friend was in danger of being hurt.”

“You are not angry?” Darcy asked in bewilderment.

“You seemed angry yesterday,” added Richard.

Elizabeth laughed. “I was angry.” She looked at him sheepishly. “You did not truly believe I had developed a headache from overexertion, did you?”

“No,” Richard admitted. “I suspected it was what I had said about Darcy’s friend that overset you, but I did not know why.”

“I am a terrible liar,” said Elizabeth. “I am also deplorable at holding my tongue when put out, so I thank you for not pressing me for the truth yesterday.”

“Why are you not angry now?” asked Darcy. He had not known many females who did not cling tightly to an offense. Richard’s sister would grumble on and on for days about some slight or another, and then, months or even years later, it would be dragged out again for a renewed evaluation. Miss Bingley was much the same, as was Mrs. Hurst. Georgiana was less given to such bitterness of spirit, but then she was more gentle in nature than many, and she was yet a girl. Even he, himself, was given to resentment when injured by another. Consequently, the fact that Elizabeth could speak of the harm he had done to her sister with such composure so soon after learning of the injurious act was startling to him.

“Colonel, you may wish to teach your cousin not to poke the hornet’s nest,” Elizabeth replied, causing Richard to chuckle. She turned towards Darcy. “Well, Mr. Darcy, my cousin, as odious and obnoxious as he can be, married a very wise woman, who happens to be my dear friend. After allowing me to wallow in my emotions privately in my room yesterday — which consisted mostly of tears and cursing you –, she made me talk to her about it — not that I wished to do so. However, Charlotte is persistent, and I knew she would not stop until she had the full story. So, I told her how evil you were to separate my beloved sister from the object of her affection and how arrogant you were to criticize my family. She made me admit that I would have done the same thing to protect a friend. Then, she made me realize that your criticism of my family only made me angry because it was true. They are ridiculous at times. They even embarrass me — especially my mother and Lydia. However, they are my family, and I love them. What family does not have its share of embarrassing relatives?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and gave him a significant look. Then she laughed lightly. “Perhaps that is where my wealth lies — in having an abundance of silly relatives.” Turning serious again, she said, “I am still not happy about the situation, but I am no longer angry.”

Darcy felt his shame and did nothing to conceal it from her. “I was wrong — dreadfully, horribly wrong. I should not have spoken so.”

“No, you should not have,” Elizabeth agreed. “However, you are forgiven.”

The three had turned back toward the parsonage, and for a few moments, their conversation lapsed once again into silence. It was not, however, a strained silence but rather one of respite, giving each time to contemplate all that had occurred. It was Darcy who at last spoke first.

“Miss Elizabeth, you travel to London the day after next, do you not?”

“Yes, Maria and I will be meeting her father in London on Monday. She will proceed to Hertfordshire straightaway, and I will remain with Jane at my aunt and uncle’s home for a fortnight before returning home.”

“I was wondering if perhaps you and Miss Lucas would allow Colonel Fitzwilliam and me the privilege of escorting you back to town so that you do not need to ride post.”

Elizabeth blinked in surprise at the offer. “While that is a most generous offer, my uncle will be sending servants to accompany us, and I do not wish for him to do so without cause.”

“An express can be sent today,” Darcy argued. “It would arrive in time to forestall the departure of your uncle’s servants.”

“Please, Miss Bennett, riding in Darcy’s carriage would be much more pleasant for me if I had more company than just him. Take pity on a poor, old soldier and say you will join us,” pleaded Richard.

“You, sir, are not old, nor do I suspect you are truly poor,” Elizabeth said with a laugh, “but, if the servants’ departure can be prevented, I will take pity on you and not decline the offer.”

“It is settled then,” said Darcy. “I will return to Rosings directly and dispatch an express. Do you wish to include anything with it? I can have the rider stop by the parsonage on his way.”

“That is very thoughtful.” Indeed, this offer also surprised her. “I am certain my uncle would be happy to hear from me. The directions for the express are 18 Gracechurch Street.” She observed his face carefully as she gave the address to a residence in the trade district of London. If she had expected him to raise a critical brow or curl his lips in disgust, she was to be disappointed.

“18 Gracechurch Street,” he repeated, committing it to memory. “I know that district well. I do business with some men in that area. I will send the rider to you in about half an hour. Would that be long enough?”

“Yes, that should be plenty of time.” She looked at Darcy with some bewilderment as he and the colonel took their leave of her. She had expected a more critical response, not the praise that he gave. He continued to surprise her at every turn, and she wondered anew if she had correctly interpreted anything about his character. She shook her head and tucked these thoughts away to dwell on later, for, at this moment, she had some missives to write — one to her sister and a second to her aunt and uncle. After that, she had some information about a particular scoundrel to share with her friend. She sighed. And she would also likely have some speculations to endure from Charlotte once she told her about the new travel arrangements. However, it could not be helped. Riding in a carriage with the surprising Mr. Darcy was a far superior prospect than travelling post — and not merely for the comfort it would afford, but in a greater measure for the company it would provide.