A Required Engagement #3 Read online

  A Required Engagement: Part Three

  A Pride & Prejudice Variation

  Nora Kipling

  Copyright © 2017 by Nora Kipling

  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.

  * * *

  For information contact;

  [email protected]

  www.heartcandies.com

  www.audreynoire.com

  * * *

  Book design by Heart Candies Publishing & Elias Fox

  First Edition: August 2017

  For Mr. Darcy

  Thank you for capturing my imagination.

  And for allowing me to put you in so many unfortunate, difficult circumstances and handling it with all the elegance and grace you possess.

  Please forgive me.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Nora Kipling

  Chapter 1

  Fitzwilliam Darcy

  Longbourn, Hertfordshire

  * * *

  He should have been angry. He should have been angry that Miss Elizabeth Bennet wished to accompany him to find Jane, but he was entirely, helplessly unable to be displeased whatsoever. This was his chance, his foolish mind told him, his chance to show her the kind of man he was, and that he was worthy of not only her friendship, but perhaps even more than that. He felt his pulse race as he waited for Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Elizabeth to finish their packing for the trip. It had been a few hours, and he felt as if he had worn a rut in the wooden floors of the Bennet drawing room with his pacing.

  “Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet said, “would you not like some tea?” He turned to look at her as she spoke and she gave him a weak, meek little smile. She had tried almost everything to make the family’s apologies known to him, but he would not have it. They did not need to apologize for Jane. Personally, he felt as if he was rather envious of Miss Bennet, soon to be Mrs. Bingley. She had not let such a thing as familial duty and filial obligation get in the way of what she desired most. No, she had chased down her dreams, and she would be resting in Bingley’s arms, happy, content, a wife to the man she loved. He, Mr. Darcy, could not say that he would be happy and content… as the object of his own desire was upstairs in the Longbourn home, packing a trunk full of things so that she might hunt down her errant sister with him and bring her to her senses.

  Good Lord, what was wrong with him? He wondered as he stared out the windows onto Longbourn’s fine grounds. He was mooning after Elizabeth Bennet as if he were a lost calf. His father had made it quite clear that he was to marry the elder Bennet girl or suffer the complete consequences of his actions… and not just for himself, but for Georgiana as well. The thought of his sister suffering due to his own choices was reprehensible, and utterly unacceptable to him. He would not stand for it. But at the same time, he did not think that he could bring himself to ruin his best friend’s happiness, or even, as his father had briefly implied to him in a quiet moment, challenge his best friend to a duel for the insult of Bingley ‘stealing’ Jane Bennet. It was utter and complete nonsense!

  He rid himself of that thought with a rough shake of his head, refusing to entertain it further, and instead waited patiently for Miss Elizabeth and her aunt to return.

  “Mr. Darcy,” offered Mrs. Bennet as he stood at the window for what must have been the fiftieth time. “Are you sure you would not like me to call for tea?” He turned to look at the older woman. She had a softness in her face that he rarely saw, and for a moment he saw what possibly his Elizabeth would be like as she aged, a sweet smile, the dark brown eyes- although Elizabeth’s would be brimming with intelligence more than simpering softness.

  “No, that is quite alright,” he said in a low voice, “you have had enough trouble on my account this day for me to ask for tea.”

  “Oh it is no problem,” Mrs. Bennet said, wringing her hands in distress. “I do think that a good tea service is always the measure to judge a household by, and not so much…” she trailed off and Mr. Darcy presumed that she meant to say she did not wish to be judged by her family’s behavior over the last few days. If she thought that Mr. Darcy were judging the Bennets in this matter, than she was sorely mistaken. If anything, he felt the monster, having forced her into accepting his father’s reprehensible and unforgivable behavior, and then putting them all in the position of needing to go and fetch their errant daughter back.

  Mr. Darcy had, in his own way, come to care for Jane Bennet, beyond that as a simple sibling to his own beloved, Elizabeth. He knew Jane’s desire was Mr. Bingley, and he did not wish to intrude on such a yearning. He did not wish to take her for a wife, knowing that he would go to her bed while she longed for his friend instead. That thought disgusted him, and he had never, in all his life, touched a woman who was unwilling. He had no doubts that Jane Bennet would be entirely unwilling Had something occurred to Mr. Bingley naturally in the course of time, as accident or illness took him, then perhaps Mr. Darcy could have made peace with marrying Jane Bennet… but in his heart he knew that neither he nor Miss Bennet would ever love each other as anything more than companions, or perhaps even very close friends.

  Jane Bennet would never make his heart thump in his chest as Elizabeth did.

  With that thought in mind, he heard a very audible thump that came from nowhere near his body.

  Miss Elizabeth stood in the doorway, in a traveling dress of sturdy linen, a pair of determined boots meant for mucking in the fields, and a knit shawl pulled tight around her shoulders. She looked every inch the country Miss, and while women in London would turn their noses up at her lack of current fashion, there was something so beautiful in the basic lines of her gown and the way the soft blue reflected on her darker complexion, giving her a healthy golden glow…

  He found himself lost, and only came back to himself when Mrs. Bennet coughed, and Mrs. Gardiner crowded behind Miss Elizabeth.

  “The boys have loaded the trunks onto the back of the carriage,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a wheeze that intimated she had been outside directing the activity. As a woman of trade, she would be used to a bit of rough and tumble herself, and he was grateful that she would accompany them. They would need to travel quickly if they were to catch Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley, even if Mr. Darcy did not wish to.

  It was no matter what he wished anymore, it was a matter of what he needed to do in order to save his family and protect his sister. The steady ache in his heart would need to be ignored, as he chased down a woman he did not want for a wife.

  “I suppose we shall be off then,” Mr. Darcy said, and Elizabeth looked at him, her gaze unwavering.

  “Yes, I suppose we should be,” she agreed, and then turned to her mother, embracing her. “I will write, Mamma, as soon as I’ve word.”

  “Oh, my dear, my dear, do be careful, as it is not an easy journey,” Mrs. Bennet whimpered, hugging her daughter tight, and then went to embrace Mrs. Gardiner. “I shall wait for your letters, if you would send them by express, it would settle my nerves all that much more,” she said, and Mr. Darcy nodded as she came to him. They clasped hands gently, as might not have been done in grander society, but given the circumstances, it was appropriate. He did not dislike Mrs. Bennet, for
all she was a troublesome lady to her progeny and the rest of her family alike. He did not wish her to worry, and yet he could see the lines around her eyes, and the pallor in her skin.

  She was terrified for a negative outcome in his hunt for her daughter.

  “It will be well, Mrs. Bennet, no matter what,” he reassured her gently, as gently as he could. She nodded, her lips trembling, and wetness in her eyes. He wished he could have stayed to offer her more comfort, and if anything, delay himself finding Mr. Bingley so the man could safely marry his chosen woman and be beyond Mr. Darcy’s reprimands.

  It was not to be however. He could make no more excuses, and in short order, they were all packed into the carriage and rolling away from Longbourn.

  Elizabeth looked the longest out of the window, quiet as she did so and Mr. Darcy made a covert study of her attitude while Mrs. Gardiner read.

  Elizabeth was painfully beautiful to his eyes, her hair twisted into curls and braids, simple, for the journey of course, the gentle wave of her part that lead to a clear, high forehead that suggested intelligence and wit. Her eyes were soft, giving a hint of the affection and love she might share with the man who captured her attention, and her lips…

  Her lips were flushed pink, and he wished to trace his thumb along the bottom one, feel the plump softness beneath his touch as he did so, and watch her mouth part as she stared up at him before he kissed her.

  It was a wholly inappropriate daydream to slip into while his knees were inches from hers, but he could not help himself. In Elizabeth’s presence he was enthralled, and the grip she had upon him could not be shook loose.

  So he watched her, and dreamed of seeing her walk the grand staircase of Pemberley, of hearing her at the pianoforte in the drawing room, of coming across her in the stillroom, cheeks smudged with the dust of greenery. It was the very picture of domestic happiness, and he felt utterly cheated that he would never have it. Instead he sat there, miserable and grouchy as the carriage jostled them forwards, to Gretna Green.

  He sent a fond, if slightly vicious wish, Mr. Bingley’s way. Hopefully the man had been less than predictable, and had chosen another Scottish village to make Miss Bennet his wife. Perhaps they would waste precious time looking for the couple in Gretna Green, only to find out later that they had already been wed and bedded, their union irrevocable in the eye’s of God and the ton. Truly, God may not have judged them for marrying in such haste, but the ton would, surely.

  Although, Mr. Darcy thought, if he were to take Elizabeth to the Scottish anvils and make her his wife, he did not think he could bring himself to care a whit what the ton thought of a hasty, patched up marriage.

  For he would wake each day to her sweet sighs, and the softness of her arms…

  They hit a bump in the road, and he cursed softly, his thoughts scattering to the four corners of the world.

  It was perhaps for the best. He did not wish to make a fool of himself, mooning after Elizabeth Bennet while he chased down her sister to ‘marry’ her.

  He closed his eyes and relaxed against the inside of the carriage bench as best he could, letting out slow, even breaths to calm himself.

  Georgiana, he urged himself, he must think only of Georgiana, and what he needed to do in order to keep her safe. If that meant marrying Jane Bennet… despite the fact such a thought left a sour and unpleasant taste at the back of his mouth, he would do it. He would do anything for his sister, as well his father knew.

  Curse the old man, for knowing Darcy’s flaws and weaknesses, and exploiting them for his own benefits and schemes. Mr. Darcy sat there, thinking of his father. At least the anger he felt towards the elder Mr. Darcy was helping to forget Elizabeth’s nearness, and was a good distraction in keeping him from observing her too closely, the way her hands rested against one another, and the way she was moving her lips, as if speaking to herself ever so silently.

  He jerked his gaze from her. Even the thought of his father was not enough to keep his mind from wandering!

  With a scowl to his own weak will, he settled again, determined the this time he should not be so powerless against her charms.

  Chapter 2

  Elizabeth Bennet

  On the road to Gretna Green

  * * *

  Elizabeth’s nerves were fretting her, and she was truly concerned that she was becoming afflicted much like her mother seemed to be at all times. There they were, in the carriage, prepared to go and ruin Jane’s perfect happiness, and Elizabeth could hardly stand it. She wished to speak up, cry out, yell, demand the carriage stop and they turn, but she could not.

  It was only her aunt’s reassurance, that the older woman had no intention of forcing Jane into a marriage to Mr. Darcy, that kept Elizabeth quiet. That, and Mr. Darcy’s mien. She had never seen him so somber, so quiet, and he was a very somber and quiet man as a regular thing, she had observed.

  But now, with the carriage jostling along, he did not say much, if anything at all. Mrs. Gardiner kept up a steady stream of chatter, of Mr. Gardiner’s trade dealings, and the travels they had made to the Lakes district.

  “You should come, Lizzy, when this is all in the past,” Mrs. Gardiner said, laying a hand over Elizabeth’s. Lizzy managed a smile for her aunt, but saw beyond her, the almost imperceptible shift as Mr. Darcy twisted his head to look at her and then back again, out the window.

  “A visit to the Lakes district would be most welcome, but I must confess, right now I am entirely occupied with the outcome of our travel,” Elizabeth said.

  Mr. Darcy sighed.

  “I am ashamed that my father has caused you all such grief,” he said, speaking plainly and with such raw and urgent honesty Elizabeth couldn’t help but be surprised by it. It was unlike Mr. Darcy to speak ill of anyone.

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy, you must not fret,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Your father is in his later years, and it is the manner of all great men to take a funny turn, or form a strong opinion on a subject.”

  “I appreciate your kindness, Mrs. Gardiner, however this is no mere strong opinion,” Mr. Darcy said. “His determination that I should marry Miss Bennet will ruin her happiness as well as the happiness of my closest friend. This is not a trip I make with any sort of joy.” He pressed his lips together until they were a thin, pale line. “I wish my position was that I could refuse him, but at this point, I must not.”

  He sat back and rubbed his temples with both hands, his head clearly paining him. Elizabeth reached into her reticule and produced a small vial of scented oil that the apothecary had prepared for her.

  “Here,” she said, offering it to him. “It does well to chase away the pain, Mamma gets dreadful headaches, when her nerves take her.”

  He accepted the vial with a wry smile.

  “Are you saying that I am having a fit of nerves?” he asked, although his voice suggested he was amused at the prospect and not offended. Elizabeth could not help but smile back at him.

  “Is that not what we are all suffering?” she asked, turning the comment back to him with a teasing lilt to her voice. He opened the vial and shook out a few drops onto his fingers before rubbing them into the skin below his hairline. He passed the vial back to her and she tucked it away.

  “If any one of us were to go to our beds tonight with peaceful dreams, I would be quite surprised,” Mr. Darcy said. Mrs. Gardiner chuckled.

  “Whiskey in your tea this evening then, Mr. Darcy, that should alleviate all your concerns and send you to sleep with ease,” she commented, as she took out a bit of embroidery. Mr. Darcy’s face went blank for a moment and then he laughed, softly, a noise that ended too soon. He glanced out the window and stared at the passing scenery.

  Elizabeth settled in for the long trip, finding herself alternating between panic of their arrival at Gretna Green, and dozing. Her naps turned into a full, dreamless sleep, that only had her rousing once- her eyelashes fluttered as she felt pressure upon her, and she barely opened her eyes to look.

  Mr. Darcy
was leaning over her, balancing with his fingers wrapped around a handle near the ceiling of the carriage. With the other, he was tucking a travel rug around her with such gentleness that he might not have woken her at all if it hadn’t been for a sudden bump of the carriage.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes tightly again and let herself drift, the quiet conversation between Mr. Darcy and her aunt melting and fading away into the black of her sleep.

  * * *

  “Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner’s voice was low and hushed, bringing Elizabeth back into the world of the waking. Elizabeth yawned and stretched, noticing the carriage was stopped, and the door was open. It was still light outside, so they could not have travelled for the full day.

  “Mmm,” Elizabeth said as the scent of greenery outside reached her. “Where are we?”

  “Stopping for a luncheon,” Mrs. Gardiner said as she straightened her skirts and stepped out of the carriage. The conveyance rocked with the weight, and then straightened. Elizabeth rubbed the back of her neck with one hand; it was sore from her sleeping at odd angles, and her back was stiff from the ride. She was looking forward to being on solid ground for at least a little while, and having the opportunity to stretch her legs. Even though the Darcy carriage was very comfortable, it was still a carriage, and its occupants were prone to the small annoyances that traveling inside of one brought.

  She alighted from the carriage, pulling her pelisse tight around her as there was a swift breeze. They had stopped in the scrubby dirt courtyard of a little road-side inn, that backed onto a copse of trees, and beyond it, a meadow where a few fat and lazy cows munched in the grass. Chickens pecked across the dirt, and the inn was little more than an extension onto what must’ve been the innkeeper’s house, although it looked likely enough.