Foiled Elopement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

Prologue - Elopement Discovered

Darcy enjoyed the solitude of his ride to Ramsgate, and the anticipation of surprising his sister, Georgiana. He was looking forward to spending some quiet days with her before they returned to Pemberley. A sort of calm before the storm, as it were, though the storm was only Bingley, his sister Miss Bingley, and the Hursts. Bingley, one of Darcy’s closest friends, was pleasant company, and Mr. Hurst amiable enough. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were well mannered, which made them tolerable for the sake of the gentlemen.

The trouble was, Georgiana didn’t care for Miss Bingley or her sister, Mrs. Hurst, and was quite withdrawn in their company. Therefore, Darcy had elected to retrieve her from Ramsgate himself, lingering there with her for a time before heading to Pemberley. Georgiana could show him her newest paintings, for she quite enjoyed the activity. They could take walks by the sea. He would even escort her to shops, if she so desired. All by way of apology and to fortify her for her role as hostess to his guests.

The change from rumbling over dirt roads to clattering on cobblestone alerted him when they entered Ramsgate. Darcy didn’t pull back the curtain, as he would have years ago. He wasn’t a child, to gawk at the sea or buildings. Instead, he tugged at his coat sleeves and adjusted his cravat, making sure he was in good order. It was several hours since they last stopped.

His carriage came to a halt and Darcy alighted in a pleasant frame of mind. He was looking forward to Georgiana’s pleasure at seeing him. As they’d been apart for some time, she was sure to be joyful at his presence. It gratified him to know he was one of the few people whose company his sister cared for. It made him feel as if he’d done well by her since their parents passed.

Darcy’s pleasant feeling lasted even after there wasn’t an immediate response to his knock. When seconds turned into minutes and repeated knocks brought no answer, he frowned, trying to imagine what would cause both Georgiana and all her servants to be gone. Whatever the trouble was, he could easily smooth it over. For his little sister, Darcy would mend any ill. He was, after all, wealthy and competent enough to do so.

It wasn’t until hours later, when increasingly frantic inquiries yielded little information about where his sister was, but much about with whom, that Darcy realized the full scope of the disaster.

Chapter One - Help Arrives

Elizabeth pressed herself as firmly against the wall of the carriage as she could without appearing to do so. She didn’t wish to give offense, but the woman she shared a seat with, Mrs. Muir, took up nearly the length of it. Turning toward the window to watch the passing landscape helped, but Elizabeth also didn’t wish to appear to rudely ignore the cheerful conversation about her.

Across from her, Mr. Muir filled a similar amount of his seat, leaving their daughter, Miss Phoebe Muir, in the same predicament as Elizabeth. She felt more sympathy for Miss Muir than herself, for Miss Muir must always ride with one parent or the other. Elizabeth need only endure the journey this one trip, to and from Scotland, and they were already embarked toward home. Of course, Miss Muir wouldn’t be riding with her parents much longer. She was to be married soon, for the Muirs’ trip to meet Miss Muir’s fiancé’s family and to see the home their daughter would live in had been a resounding success.

Miss Bennet, Miss Muir said.

Elizabeth turned her head, relinquishing a view of rolling hills, dotted with flocks and neatly parceled by low stone walls.

Scotland is beautiful. Don’t you agree? Miss Muir accompanied the question with a nod toward the window.

Elizabeth used the fact that Miss Muir was catty-corner from her as an excuse to angle her shoulders nearly parallel to the window she turned from. She reminded herself she’d endured the journey north and so could endure the return south. Above, the carriage creaked. She had the momentary vision of it collapsing under the combined weight of their luggage strapped to the top, the footman and coachman sharing the driver’s seat, and those within. Yes, Scotland is very lovely.

How was your visit with your aunt, dear? Mrs. Muir asked Elizabeth.

It was very pleasant. Thank you again for taking me. I hadn’t met any of my cousins before, or seen my Aunt Beth since I was too young to recall. She’s lived in Scotland nearly all my life. Her father’s older sister, for whom Elizabeth was named, had married a Scot, as Miss Muir intended to.

It’s a shame she didn’t visit you more, but then travel was difficult in our youth, Mrs. Muir said. We’re fortunate it’s easier now. I’m sure we’ll be making many trips to visit our Phoebe, although this trip was a bit more expensive than we expected. You’re welcome to join us again sometime, dear, isn’t she, Mr. Muir?

Quite right. Miss Bennet is always welcome, Mrs. Muir.

Thank you, Elizabeth said, offering a smile. That’s very generous of you.

Mrs. Muir had a kindly face, as did her husband. Both had greatly impressed Elizabeth’s mother, these friends of the Gardiners who’d agreed to take Elizabeth north to visit her aunt. Mrs. Bennet had proclaimed that anyone who ate as well as the Muirs was surely wealthy and it was a shame they had only a daughter, not any sons. She’d then gone on to lament daughters as a general rule.

And I shall make the journey as well, Miss Muir said. You’re always welcome to join us. She blushed. Well, not when we return together after the wedding. I think then I shall want to be alone with my new husband.

Phoebe, Mr. Muir said, looking a bit shocked.

Well I shall, Papa. I’m a grown woman now.

Not yet you aren’t, Mr. Muir said. Not until after you wed. Right now, you’re still my little girl.

Of course, I am, Papa. Miss Muir offered him an indulgent smile, then rolled her eyes at her mother.

How many cakes shall we have at your wedding breakfast? Mrs. Muir asked.

I should think three at least, Mr. Muir said, his eyes bright. No daughter of mine is having any fewer than three cakes, don’t you agree, Mrs. Muir?

Oh, I quite agree, Mr. Muir. Three cakes at the least.

And drinking chocolate, Miss Muir said. I should very much like to have drinking chocolate.

The conversation, as it often did with the Muirs, turned to a detailed discussion of food. Elizabeth returned to her study of the Scottish countryside, wanting to capture it in her mind. For all their kindness, the Muirs had taken her with them as a favor to her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and would be under no obligation to bring her again. Elizabeth may never have the opportunity to return to Scotland.

There were similarities to England, to be sure, but she could pick out differences as well. Scotland was more rugged. The hills higher and steeper, some of them grown right up into mountains. There was a certain wild, misty quality to Scotland that Elizabeth hadn’t observed in the parts of England she was familiar with. She could see how it pulled on the imagination and lent itself to the sort of romanticisms and myths the northern region was known for. She was happy to be going home, but she could understand how Scotland had captured her aunt, and why Miss Muir was more than pleased to wed her Scottish suitor.

Elizabeth had spent a very enjoyable month visiting her Aunt Beth and her cousins, five of whom still lived at home. They lived near enough to Glasgow for several day trips to explore the city, yet far enough out to be immersed in the beauty of the countryside. In Scotland, everything was new and interesting to Elizabeth, who had never travelled so far before. Her aunt and cousins had kindly taken her on tours of the nearby sites and invited other young people for Elizabeth’s entertainment, as if five cousins at home and three more nearby didn’t offer enough amusement.

Elizabeth smiled, anticipating being home. As alluring as Scotland was, she missed Longbourn, her father and her sister Jane. Elizabeth had obeyed her father’s instructions to learn what she could and behaved in a way that made her aunt assure her that she was welcome to visit again. She looked forward to reporting the details of her visit to him, conveying his sister’s regard and proclaiming the journey a success.

Her smile widened. She hadn’t obeyed her mother’s instructions to come back engaged to, or even married to, a wealthy man. Her mother would lament that. Never mind that Elizabeth hadn’t met a man she felt any stirring of interest for. Her mother had five daughters and wished fervently to see at least one of them wed.

Elizabeth’s smile faltered. While it was amusing to contemplate her mother’s silly ravings and her father’s acrid interjections, such thoughts did touch on a deep worry. Home, in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth didn’t fancy a single gentleman and never had. Not to please her mother, but herself, she’d hoped being among so many new faces would lead her to someone who drew at least a spark of feeling. Her four sisters, even Jane, had all fancied themselves attracted or in love at one time or another, but Elizabeth never had. She was beginning to wonder if something was wrong with her.

They rolled into a forested area, cutting off the more sweeping views, and Elizabeth wriggled back around in her seat. The Muirs went on to talk about smoked and salted fish. Elizabeth joined in. Anything was better than worrying over how she, at barely twenty, had yet to make herself properly foolish over a man.

They came to a small town when the sun was low in the sky. They passed a busy inn called the Red Lion, where the southbound stage was discharging passengers, and continued the short distance toward another, the Sleeping Cat, which had been recommended to them. As the Red Lion was at one end of town and the Sleeping Cat at the other, Elizabeth could observe the whole of it as the coachman maneuvered them down the rutted street. It was little more than a village, in truth, obviously surviving on the business of those traveling in easy stages, but the people she saw appeared pleasant enough.

While the first inn had looked crowded to the point of riotous, the Sleeping Cat was quiet, living up to its name. It’s location on the far side of town was slightly removed from other buildings, further set apart by a large innyard. Elizabeth let the footman help her down with a murmur of thanks and carefully hidden relief. She resisted the urge to arch her back or stretch her arms over her head. She wouldn’t behave so poorly in public, or insult the Muirs by letting on how cramped she’d been.

Take a turn about the yard with me while father arranges for rooms? Miss Muir asked.

Certainly, Elizabeth agreed, pleased the yard was so large.

Mrs. Muir waited on the porch while they headed toward the far end of the dusty innyard in silence. Elizabeth had noticed on the journey north that her companions grew quiet as evening arrived. It was as if they exhausted all topics for the day by supper. Elizabeth knew she did. As a result, Mr. Muir was spared the expense of a private dining room. He, Mrs. Muir and especially Miss Muir quite enjoyed dining in common rooms. They ate well, spoke little, and absorbed what went on around them. Anything interesting noted was sure to be the first topic brought up once ensconced in the carriage the following day.

They make an odd couple, don’t they? Miss Muir asked when they turned back toward the inn.

Elizabeth looked through the fading light to find a man and woman walking up the inn steps. They quickly disappeared inside, but not before she observed the miserable expression on the young woman’s face. The man, handsome even from a distance, appeared quite cheerful. They do seem rather opposite in feeling.

Not only that, Miss Muir said, lowering her voice. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, and he at least a decade older.

It does happen. Though Elizabeth felt, privately, that it was generally an error to permit a very young girl to marry. Perhaps he’s her brother?

Perhaps, Miss Muir agreed, though her tone was at odds with the word.

Elizabeth concurred. Something about the possessive way the gentleman looked on the girl didn’t speak to her of brotherly affection. She shrugged. I daresay it’s none of our concern.

Miss Muir looked at her askance. No, I suppose it isn’t.

Miss Muir’s prim tone relayed that she was insulted. Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. She hadn’t meant her words as censure . . . except that she had. She considered the Muirs’ habit of eavesdropping and gossiping ill-mannered, especially in Miss Muir. Where Mr. and Mrs. Muir were both generous of heart and meant no harm by their chosen amusement, Miss Muir was more liable to judge and condemn those she listened in on.

Mr. Muir joined Mrs. Muir on the porch, waiting while Elizabeth and Miss Muir walked back to them. I’ve rooms for us, if you wish to freshen up, and I’ve ordered dinner, he said when they drew near.

Entering the inn, Elizabeth took in pleasant white walls delineated by thick wooden beams. The ceiling was a bit low, but the windows wide and made up of many rectangles of leaded glass. There was a vast fireplace at one end of the common room, in front of which two gentlemen played backgammon. A polished bar stretched the length of the back wall. She was surprised to catch sight of a pianoforte at the end opposite the fireplace, near where the couple they’d seen enter now sat.

The instrument recalled to mind the sheaves of music Elizabeth had with her and how long it had been since she’d practiced. Her aunt, once an accomplished player, had no access to a pianoforte. As a parting gift, she’d given Elizabeth much of her sheet music, lovingly kept these many years. Ascending the steps to the room she would share with Miss Muir, Elizabeth wondered if the nearly empty common room would afford her the opportunity to play.

Once in their room, Miss Muir gave every indication of being over her pique as she and Elizabeth readied for dinner. When they headed back down, it was with the appearance of being cheerful companions. This lasted until after dinner, when she turned to Elizabeth with a guarded expression.

I thought I might retrieve the playing cards, Miss Muir said, eyeing Elizabeth meaningfully. Would anyone be up for a hand or two?

Elizabeth recognized the look and knew what was required of her. No, thank you. I believe I shall attempt the pianoforte, if the innkeeper agrees. I’m going to fetch the sheet music my aunt gave me. Shall I bring you the cards?

That would be very kind, Miss Muir said, looking relieved.

Elizabeth excused herself to retrieve the music and deck, hearing Mr. Muir call for his footman as she headed up the steps toward her room. She considered herself perfectly adept at whist, but wasn’t up to the standards of the Muirs and their footman. When Elizabeth joined them, Mr. and Mrs. Muir always insisted she partner Miss Muir, citing age. With the less skillful Elizabeth on her side, Miss Muir was hard pressed to win against her parents. They didn’t play for money, but took the activity very seriously. Elizabeth knew where she wasn’t required. Far from resentful, she was relieved for the excuse to spend a small amount of time on her own.

Returning to the common room, Elizabeth deposited the cards with the Muirs and went to speak with the innkeeper, a Mr. Buchanan, who stood behind the brightly polished bar. Neat rows of glasses and tankards lined the shelves beyond him, along with some choice liquor. He had an apron tied round his waist and a white cloth draped over his shoulder. All in all, Elizabeth felt the recommendation of the Sleeping Cat to be a good one. It was a clean, pleasant inn.

Mr. Buchanan offered a friendly smile as she approached. What can I do for you, Miss Bennet?

I was wondering if I might play your pianoforte, she said, gesturing toward the wall where the instrument stood, near the table occupied by the couple. She held up the sheet music. I’m afraid there’s little here I know, but much of it looks simple enough to learn quickly.

Of course, Miss. It would be a delight, I’m certain.

Thank you, sir, and the moment you realize it is not a delight, be sure to approach me. I shouldn’t wish to drive off your customers.

Oh, I hardly think you’re in danger of that.

Elizabeth retired to the bench to sort through the music. Selecting a simple piece, she tested the keys. She was pleased to find the instrument mostly in tune.

The piece she’d selected, like all of the offerings that weren’t church music, was one popular in her aunt’s youth. Elizabeth played it haltingly at first, running through it once quietly. She played it again, in better time. She began a third pass in full time and gave the pianoforte its voice.

I want to go home, the young woman seated at the table near the pianoforte whispered, likely thinking Elizabeth couldn’t hear her over the music.

Georgiana, your home is with me. The man’s voice was a mixture of ingratiating and demanding. As soon as I get your dowry, I’ll buy you a home. With thirty thousand pounds, I’ll buy you two if you like.

I don’t want you to buy me a home. I want to go back to mine. The girl sounded on the verge of weeping. I should never have agreed to run off. Mr. Greyson was right about you.

You’re art instructor? The man spoke with derision. A gentleman who would give up his place in society to instruct witless, spoiled girls? I find it difficult to believe he could be right about anything.

"Well, he was right about