An Unwanted Proposal: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Read online

  An Unwanted Proposal

  Lane Cossett

  An Unwanted Proposal © Lane Cossett 2018

  Amazon Kindle Edition.

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events or locations is purely coincidental.

  An Unwanted Proposal is set in Regency England and uses British English throughout.

  The characters are all a product of the author’s imagination, apart from those characters and locations bequeathed to us by Jane Austen.

  Contents

  Prologue

  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 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Epilogue

  Preview - The Lost Letters

  A note from the author

  Prologue

  Fitzwilliam Darcy stood on St. James’s Street looking around him. The street was notorious for being busy and that day was no different. Carriages were coming and going dropping people off mainly at Whites, the fashionable gentlemen's club. Some men were very open about being there and strode in exchanging a word with the doorman or an acquaintance in passing, but there were others who pulled down their hats, kept their eyes on the ground and hurried inside as quickly as possible.

  Darcy wondered why, if someone was embarrassed at being seen, they continued to inhabit such a place. Everyone knew that Whites, as well as being a popular club with a library, a reading room and a dining room that offered some of the best French cuisine in London, in the back rooms was one of the most popular gambling clubs in London. Many a man had lost and won their fortunes in Whites. It was only about a month past that an acquaintance of his, the Earl of Harwich, had blown his brains out allegedly because of gambling debts accrued at Whites.

  Darcy sighed. He was not there for the gambling but to meet his friend and barrister, Sir Jeffrey Honeyfield. He took his watch out of his pocket. Sir Jeffrey was late, which was unusual. He was a man who prided himself on maintaining certain standards and good timekeeping was one of them.

  Darcy looked up and down the street but could see no sign of Sir Jeffrey’s carriage or the man himself. He turned to go in and was nearly knocked off his feet by a man hurrying by.

  “Sir be careful,” he called out, but the man took no notice and rushed through the half-open door past the doorman who was trying to open it.

  The doorman came out to Darcy. “Are you hurt, sir?”

  “No, it was just a knock,” said Darcy brushing some dust off his jacket where he had been pushed back against the wall.

  “I have a brush inside, sir,” said the doorman.

  “It’s nothing.” Darcy hated anyone making a fuss.

  The doorman held open the door for him and Darcy went in. He saw the gentleman who had just knocked into him talking to the manager, Mr. Briscoe.

  Darcy was tempted to speak to the man, but at that moment Sir Jeffrey arrived full of apologies.

  “My dear Mr. Darcy. Forgive my tardiness, but I was delayed by urgent business.”

  The men shook hands.

  “It does not matter,” Darcy assured him. “I have only just arrived.”

  “Then I shall not feel guilty,” said Sir Jeffrey, taking off his coat and handing it to the hovering attendant. “Are you free to dine?”

  “I am looking forward to it.” Darcy passed his hat and cane into the willing arms of the attendant and the two men went along to the dining room. On their way Darcy spied the man who had knocked into him. He was sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. He looked like a man in despair. Darcy almost turned back, but he was suddenly distracted by a man calling out his name

  “Darcy, I never thought I would see you here.” The man had an insolent grin on his face and Darcy immediately felt a tightening in his chest.

  “Hello, Langley.” He couldn’t stop a note of coldness creeping into his voice.

  Viscount Langley’s eyes widened. “Is that a sound of disapproval I hear? This is a place where there are many pleasant diversions. They might improve your mood. Perhaps you would like to join me for a game of cards.”

  “Thank you, but no. I’m here on business.” Darcy carried on walking. He did not like Viscount Langley and saw no reason to waste time in conversation with him.

  Did he hear Langley laugh? Probably. The man was a wastrel. As he glanced back he saw him approach the man on the bench, who raised his head and said something.

  Darcy didn’t know why but the man looked out of place.

  “Darcy, are we going in?” asked Sir Jeffrey as they stood outside the door to the dining room.

  Darcy nodded. Langley’s business was his own. It was nothing to do with him.

  He and Sir Jeffrey were shown to seats in the dining room and it was not long before they were enjoying a plate of ragout of beef and sharing news of each other’s families. Langley and the man who had knocked into him were quickly forgotten.

  1

  Six months later

  “Mr. Bingley, I hope you are going to eat some pheasant. I am sure you will find it a great deal tastier than the bird Lady Lucas had on her table last week. I thought it was rather tough myself. Not one of their best birds at all.”

  Mr. Darcy observed his friend Charles Bingley trying to form a suitable answer to Mrs. Bennet’s remark, opening his mouth several times and then closing it again. Darcy was amused by his friend’s predicament
, but there really was no need for Bingley to say a word. Mrs. Bennet as usual had not waited for a reply and was still talking.

  “Mr. Bennet, did you not think that was the case? The pheasant at Lucas Lodge was very tough.”

  Mr. Bennet smiled at his wife. “Tough, you say, my dear. I do believe you’re right…”

  Mrs. Bennet looked delighted that her husband agreed with her and started to wave a handkerchief in the air. “I knew I was correct.”

  “My dear, you did not let me finish,” said Mr. Bennet, a mischievous tone in his voice. “I was going to say that you were right. Their bird was every bit as tough as ours.”

  Darcy nearly dropped the glass of wine he was holding. Mrs. Bennet looked as if she was about to expire. Her face was pale and three little beads of sweat were visible on her brow. “How …. How could you say such a thing?” she spluttered furiously.

  Mr. Bennet did not say a word but continued to quietly eat the ‘tough pheasant’ while his wife dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief and moaned that the pheasant was not tough, and it was cruel of him to say such a thing.

  Jane Bennet gently touched her mother’s arm. “Mama. Do not upset yourself. Father was only teasing. Cook has surpassed herself as always.”

  Mrs. Bennet sniffed loudly and inelegantly and smiled at her eldest daughter. “You are a good girl, Jane. You always have been.”

  Miss Bennet’s cheeks were tinged with red and Darcy saw a look of affection pass between her and his friend Charles Bingley. It would not be long before the two were wed.

  Darcy had been unsure about the suitability of Miss Bennet to become his friend’s wife when he had first met her and had told Bingley that he did not believe she held any affection for him.

  He had hurt them both and he now realised he should never have interfered. Miss Bennet shared the same serene nature as his friend and she was not someone to openly display her feelings. Having had the opportunity to observe her a little more closely, he had concluded that he had been wrong in his judgment and had come to see that Miss Bennet was as fond of his friend as he was of her. He hoped the two would have a long and fruitful marriage.

  Thanks to Miss Bennet, Mrs. Bennet had stopped talking about pheasant, but she was now moaning about her other three daughters not being married.

  “It is time they were all married, before they become old maids. Mr. Bingley, I shall be relying on you to find them all rich husbands,” said Mrs. Bennet.

  Charles Bingley could not hide his horror at such a suggestion, but Mrs. Bennet did not even notice and continued with her inconsequential chatter.

  Darcy did not think he had ever met anyone like Mrs. Bennet, who was almost bereft of manners that polite society considered the norm. She spoke in a loud screeching voice, she never listened to others and frequently spoke of matters that any true lady would consider private.

  “As soon as you are wed, Mr. Bingley, I hope you will hold another ball at Netherfield. I am sure you will be able to find suitable gentlemen for them although Lizzy has already had her chance…”

  “Mother, pleeeease.”

  Elizabeth Bennet, the second of the Bennet daughters, glared furiously at her mother.

  Mrs. Bennet was unconcerned by her daughter’s irritation. “Well, you did, Lizzy. You could have had a very comfortable home by now if you were not so stubborn and selfish.”

  A determined smile touched Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s lips. “Stubborn perhaps, mother. But I want to marry for love.”

  Mrs. Bennet, who had been about to take a sip of wine, thrust her glass back on the table, not noticing that some of it had splashed onto the table. “Love. What utter nonsense you talk, Elizabeth. Do you think I loved your father when we married? Naturally I did not. Love has nothing to do with it. You are a very foolish girl.”

  Mr. Bennet gazed down the table at his wife. “There is nothing foolish about Lizzy and we will have no talk of marriage this evening.”

  Darcy wondered if Mrs. Bennet would continue, but she did not and at last there was peace around the table. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet both looked embarrassed at their mother’s outburst. Miss Mary Bennet’s eyes were cast downwards, and Miss Kitty Bennet was smiling admiringly at her mother. The two women had much in common. They were both pretty, but with little breeding or education.

  Darcy surreptitiously glanced at Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who gave him a sly wink. Normally he would have deplored such a gesture but on this occasion, it warmed him. He was feeling rather nervous and he could not wait until the interminable dinner was over. That afternoon he had asked Miss Elizabeth Bennet to marry him and to his delight and surprise she had accepted with alacrity. They had agreed that after dinner he would speak to Mr. Bennet.

  He thought himself the luckiest man in the world. It had been his second proposal to Miss Bennet and he had feared being refused. It still shamed him to think of his first proposal, when she had described him as ungentlemanly. At first, he had been resentful of her rejection and her criticisms of his character, but he had come to grasp that she was correct.

  The first time he had thought she should feel honoured at his proposal, this second time he thought he was the one who was honoured. He was so fortunate to love so deeply and be loved in return. They had been very discreet and the only people who knew were themselves.

  He had told Bingley that he needed to discuss some business with Mr. Bennet after dinner and his friend who was not a particularly curious fellow had agreed he would find a reason to excuse himself.

  “Mr. Bingley, do you think you will hold another ball after you are married?” asked Miss Kitty Bennet.

  “It is something…. Uhm…. I will …. I will certainly think about,” said Charles Bingley carefully.

  “Naturally, you will have a ball,” said Mrs. Bennet. “And I do hope you will invite my darling Lydia and dear Wickham.”

  Darcy cringed at the name. Wickham, that rogue. One thing he was certain of, there would be no invite for him to any ball at Netherfield. Although Darcy had not given him many details, Bingley was aware of his antipathy towards George Wickham.

  “Mama. You know Mr. Wickham has now joined the Northern Regiment and it will be a long time before they are able to travel south,” said Elizabeth Bennet.

  “Well, I think it is most unfortunate. If only some of his friends had helped him as they should, he would not have been forced to go.” Her gimlet eyes fell on Darcy, but he refused to respond. Only Elizabeth Bennet and her uncle, Mr. Gardiner, were acquainted with the true character of George Wickham and he had no intention of saying anything more, especially to someone as indiscreet as Mrs. Bennet.

  He loved Miss Elizabeth Bennet and he could not wait to make her his wife and take her to Pemberley where they would be many miles away from her family.

  “I still think it is all wrong.” Mrs. Bennet’s brow was furrowed. “To take dear Lydia away from the regiment in Brighton. You know how popular she was with all the officers. Don’t you think it is wrong, Mr. Bennet?”

  “What is wrong,my dear?” asked Mr. Bennet, who as was his custom was not listening to his wife. He helped himself to some more pheasant and Elizabeth passed him some carrots doused in a buttery sauce.

  “Lydia being torn away from all her friends,” repeated Mrs. Bennet.

  “You have nothing to fear, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet pretending to be solicitous. “Our youngest daughter has a knack of being able to ingratiate herself among any group of people and make a fool of herself. I am sure it will be no different in the north.”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in and then Mrs. Bennet screeched with fury. “How can …. How can you say that about our daughter? She is beautiful… she is married to a handsome man … she is….” Mrs. Bennet ran out of words to describe her youngest and favourite daughter.

  Darcy could not help feeling relieved that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was nothing like her mother. However, he still found it hard to believe that he was going to be related
by marriage to such a silly woman. Marriage… a thought suddenly struck him, and Mr. Darcy stared across the table at Miss Bennet.

  Mrs. Bennet had hinted that her daughter had already had a proposal of marriage. He knew Mrs. Bennet knew nothing about his first proposal to her second daughter, so she could not have been referring to that. Someone else had proposed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet and she had turned it down. He felt a pang of jealousy. He had not been aware he had been vying for her attentions with another man. She had never mentioned it. Who on earth was it?

  2

  Elizabeth Bennet grimaced as her mother dominated the conversation. As usual Mrs. Bennet was unaware of anyone except herself and what she wanted to say. Elizabeth had to admire Mr. Bingley, who managed to look at her mother as if he was interested in her conversation. Every now and then he would nod, or mumble a few words in agreement. He was such a nice man. She was glad he had finally asked her sister to marry him. She knew Jane loved him deeply and she had no doubt they would be very happy together.