Page 56 of Without Pride and Prejudice

Oh, but Elizabeth was meant to trifle with Lady Catherine. Only one question remained: Was I a strong enough Elizabethto emerge the victor? I needed to write down everything I could remember of how Elizabeth had taken her down in their epic tête-à-tête.

“Are you saying that Mr. Darcy is not a man of integrity?”

Miss Bingley’s jaw dropped, appalled. “How dare you misconstrue my words.”

A rush of Elizabeth swept through me. “Did I, Miss Bingley? If Mr. Darcy,” I whispered, “is to be engaged to another woman, and if he is a man of integrity, there would be no need to warn me.” Game, set, match. Or at least I thought.

Miss Bingley gripped my arm ever tighter. “I do not doubt Mr. Darcy’s integrity. It is yours I question.”

“Mine?”

“Yes, Miss Eliza. You do not think I notice your cunning ways?”

“Cunning ways?” Was she serious?

Her severe look said she was dead serious. “It is apparent that not only do you mean to orchestrate a match above your station for yourself, but for your sister as well. Your efforts to secure a husband for your friend Miss Lucas only further expose your scheming nature.”

I craned my head to watch Charlotte dance with Mr. Rutledge, one of the men who had asked me to dance at the Meryton assembly. I’d learned that Mr. Rutledge’s father owned the most successful mercantile shop in town, and as the eldest son, he helped run it. While Charlotte smiled and danced with enthusiasm, he glanced frequently at Mary at the pianoforte. That was unfortunate. I’d been hoping that Charlotte and he might hit it off. I admit that earlier in the evening, I’d mentioned to Mr. Rutledge that Charlotte was interested in knowing more about the mercantile shop—a day-in-and-day-out take. He’d seemed most pleased about it and had started chatting her up. Had Miss Bingley noticed that? I’d thought I’d been discreet.

Regardless, I was only trying to help a friend who believed she was over the hill at twenty-seven—which was crazy, since I was two years older than that in real life. Granted, life expectancies were a lot different here, as were societal norms. And let’s not forget these women weren’t properly moisturizing. They were all bound to shrivel up early.

“My only intent, Miss Bingley, is to be a good sister and friend.” And, you know, to avoid totally ruining this story.

“Yes, I see what a dutiful sister you are, always putting dear Jane in the spotlight and even your sister, Mary. And you with your books and insights, it is almost as if you had someone spy on Mr. Darcy to learn all about him.”

She wasn’t exactly wrong; I had the manual, so to speak, and Fitz. Oh, Fitz. Where was he when I needed him?

“Spy?” I laughed nervously as we walked slowly around the room, which had suddenly become stuffy. “What an imagination you have. Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps Mr. Darcy and I have many things in common?”

It was her turn to laugh. “Miss Eliza, you lack connections and accomplishments. Those are the things that matter most.”

I knew she was only jealous and it would be best if I held my tongue. Instead of levelheadedly walking away, I stopped and directed my gaze toward Mr. Darcy, who was staring at us with interest, and added more fuel to Miss Bingley’s fire. “Or perhaps he cares more about my figure.”

“Shocking girl,” Miss Bingley scolded me. “I have never heard anything so abominable.”

No doubt Mr. Darcy hadn’t either, but I bet he was going to.

I was the worst Elizabeth ever.

“Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me.”

MONROE

THE NEXT MORNING SAW A lot of excitement at the breakfast table, which seemed to be a common occurrence here. Not only had Mr. Bingley promised the night before to throw a ball at Netherfield, but the regiment was arriving in Meryton, and last but certainly not least, a letter arrived from Hunsford. A letter from Hunsford could only mean one thing: Mr. Collins was soon to appear. The timing of this seemed suspicious to me, in light of my conversation with Miss Bingley last night. But the timing of everything had been thrown off since my arrival. Maybe I really had gotten sucked into some space-time continuum thing and we were doing theWithout Pride and Prejudiceversion. Except, I had let my pride get the better of me last night, and I might have been prejudiced against elegant and accomplished women.

I wasn’t sure if I’d ruined my chances with Mr. Darcy last night. He wasn’t a very talkative guy, and I didn’t know how much pull Miss Bingley had with him. All I knew for sure was that he was an excellent whist player. Honestly, I was waiting for a letter any moment now to inform me that Mr. Darcy was returning to London, or something of the sort.

Breaking into my thoughts, Mr. Bennet announced to the room at large, “This letter from Hunsford is from the man who can turn you all out once I am dead.”

Mrs. Bennet choked on the tea she was sipping, making her splutter. She dabbed her dress with a napkin, trying to remove any liquid. “Mr. Bennet, what a thing to say. Although”—she smiled at Jane and me, who sat across the table from her—“we might not be in such poor circumstances even if you died.”

And who said love is dead?

Mr. Bennet didn’t skip a beat. “Well, my dear, since you do not care whether I live or die, I dare say you shall not care if the heir to Longbourn, Mr. William Collins, arrives tomorrow and trespasses for a fortnight upon our hospitality.”

Mrs. Bennet sat up in a dignified manner. “I most certainly do care. What is the meaning of this? Does he wish to lord it over us? I hate false friends.”

“False friends indeed.” Mr. Bennet held up the letter and prepared to read it.

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