The Choices Series: Pride and Prejudice Novellas Read online

  The Choices Series

  Pride and Prejudice Variation Novellas

  Leenie Brown

  Leenie B Books

  Halifax

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, without written permission from its publisher and author.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, events, and places are a product of this author’s imagination. If any name, event and/or place did exist, it is purely by coincidence that it appears in this book.

  The Choices Series © Leenie Brown. All Rights Reserved, except where otherwise noted.

  Contents

  Her Father's Choice

  Book One

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  No Other Choice

  Book 2

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  His Inconvenient Choice

  Book Three

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Her Heart's Choice

  Book Four

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Other Books by Leenie Brown

  About the Author

  Connect with Leenie Brown

  Her Father's Choice

  Prologue

  October 1811

  Not handsome enough but with fine eyes? Mr. Bennet chuckled to himself. It was as he had suspected when he had first met Mr. Darcy ─ Elizabeth would make him a fine wife. If only she had not heard that slight and taken such a strong disliking to the man. He sighed and shook his head. He knew to bring the two together would be quite the undertaking ─ difficult but necessary.

  “I tried to arrange a dance between them,” said Sir William as he handed his long-time friend a glass of lemonade. “But, she is quite set against him, it seems.” The two gentlemen moved to a corner where they could sit and watch the proceedings of the party while conversing in relative privacy.

  “I saw,” replied Mr. Bennet. “And then I heard him mention her fine eyes. Miss Bingley is quite put out by the comment. I do not envy his position of having an unhappy woman yapping at his elbow.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked as he took a sip of his drink.

  Sir William lifted his glass in salute. “Here, here. I have had it happen a time or two in the past eight and twenty years myself. There is nothing quite like the continual complaining of a disgruntled woman robed in supposed humour to try one’s nerves.”

  “He is a patient one. I am sure I could not abide Miss Bingley’s comments so graciously as he.” Mr. Bennet shifted in his chair. “But, if he can tolerate Miss Bingley in a fit of pique, he should be able to handle my Lizzy.”

  “Aye, he should, but Lizzy’s tongue and mind are a bit sharper. And her opinions are not so easily swayed.” There was a hint of caution in Sir William’s voice. He agreed with his friend that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth would make a fine match, but he was not convinced Elizabeth could be swayed from her current dislike of the gentleman.

  “She will come around, but,” Mr. Bennet lowered his voice, “that may not happen until after they are married.”

  Sir William laughed. “Exactly how do you propose we get her to marry him when she does not like him? Surely, you would not suggest a compromise?”

  Mr. Bennet tapped his finger against the side of his glass. “I would do most anything to assure the happiness of my Lizzy, even if it meant bearing her anger and forcing her hand.” He watched Elizabeth, who was talking intently to her dear friend, Charlotte Lucas. He smiled as she sneaked a third glance at Mr. Darcy. If Mr. Bennet was not mistaken, and he rarely was when it came to understanding Elizabeth, she was fascinated by the man from Derbyshire. It was a fascination that he was certain was foreign to her. “I pray it does not come to it, but if a compromise is necessary, can I count on your assistance?”

  Sir William studied his friend and then Elizabeth for a moment. “You are convinced she will be happy?”

  “Completely.”

  “Then I will happily assist you with whatever you need.”

  Chapter 1

  November 26, 1811

  The music swirled about Elizabeth as she completed the final few steps of the dance. As the last notes of the song faded into the expanse of Netherfield’s ballroom, she dipped a curtsey and moved silently away from her dancing partner. The swirling feeling, however, did not die with the music. From the corner of her eye, she could see Miss Bingley moving toward her. Speaking to anyone, let alone Miss Bingley, was not something she wished to do at present, so seeing an opportunity to slip away from the crowds, she took it. She smiled at her father as she slid behind him and out of the room into the hallway. Assuring herself that no others would see her escape, she hurried to the library. A need for solitude, somewhere to gather her thoughts and sort through the strange feelings that had her nerves all aflutter, consumed her. She clicked the door quietly shut behind her and retrieved a book of poetry from the shelf. It was one of the books she had enjoyed reading when she had stayed here to tend to her sister.

  Darcy watched her slip off her shoes and tuck her small feet under her skirts as she curled into the chair and flipped the pages of her book. His book lay open on his lap, but not one word had entered his mind for it was filled with the lady who now presented such a charming picture before him. This, he thought to himself, this is how an evening at home should be spent. The thought both shocked and pleased him. He shook his head and smiled, for he could not help it even in his unsettled state of mind. Thoughts of Miss Elizabeth often led him to smile. He allowed himself several moments to consider her, to play again in his mind many of their interactions before he turned his mind to his book.

  As fair as thou, my bonnie lass,

  So deep in luve am I;

  And I will love thee still, my dear,

  Till a’ the seas gang dry.[1]

  Darcy closed the book. So deep in love am I, the words of Mr.Burn’s poem, repeated themselves in his mind. That must be it. His disquiet, his agitation of spirit, the joy of having her near and the torment of hearing her speak of another were not symptoms that his heart might be in danger of being engaged but rather signs that it was already engaged and, he feared, to an unalterable extent. Quietly, he lay the book on the table next to his chair and rose to leave. He would return later to retrieve the book so that he might ponder the words and what he was to do about his heart.

  Elizabeth glanced up at Darcy as he walked to the door and flipped yet another unread page. The book had not been able to capture her mind or quiet her spirit. The ro
om still spun slowly, her heart still fluttered, and her eyes were drawn of their own accord to the man sitting across the room from her. Perhaps once he took his leave of the room, she might find the peace she sought. She turned her mind back to her book; but it was of no use, the desire to read seemed to be leaving with Mr. Darcy. So she stood, smoothed her skirts and slipped her feet into her slippers.

  The door opened as Darcy reached it, and Elizabeth’s aunt, Mrs. Phillips, entered. She looked from Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth, who was still smoothing her skirts, and then peered around the room as if searching for someone or something. Her eyes grew wide and her hand flew to her chest. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, my. Oh, Lizzy. And…and Mr. Darcy.” She spun on her heels and very nearly ran from the room. “Mr. Bennet,” she called. “Mr. Bennet, you are needed.”

  Elizabeth gasped. “I must stop her, ” she said as she moved toward the door, but Darcy stopped her.

  “The damage has already been done, ” he said. “Should you follow after her, she will only make a greater spectacle as she either scolds or questions you. It is best to await your father here.” He led her back to her chair. Reluctantly, he let go of her arm as she took a seat. “Are you well?” he asked.

  “I hardly know,” she replied. Thoughts of the things her aunt might be saying filled her mind. She sought a solution, an explanation that might explain her current circumstances in such a way as to repair her reputation. She watched Mr. Darcy pace about the room and replied to his inquiries after her health. He sat for a moment but stood again and resumed his pacing, which only stopped when her father entered. Then she noted how very rigid his stance became.

  “Papa,” she said rising and going to him, “it is not how my aunt presented it.” Her father pulled her into his embrace.

  “It is not about what has happened, my Lizzy, but about what others think has happened,” he said quietly. “I do not doubt your honour, but you know how the gossips work.” He released her from his arms and grasping her chin, forced her to look at him. The pain in her eyes was nearly his undoing. “Have a seat while we discuss what might be done to save your reputation,” he faltered for a moment before adding what he knew would play most heavily upon her heart, “and the reputation of our family.” He clenched his jaw as he saw her eyes grow wide and fill with tears.

  “There is only one option, sir,” said Mr. Darcy. “I must marry your daughter. My reputation may be tainted slightly by a situation such as this, but the damage that would be done to Miss Elizabeth….” He silently reproved himself once again for not having left the room when she entered.

  “I believe you have the right of it, Mr. Darcy. There seem to be few other options. I know my wife’s sister is not one to keep a story such as this to herself. I fear the entirety of Mr. Bingley’s guests have already come to know of it.”

  Panic gripped Elizabeth’s heart. Surely, her father could not be serious. Marry Mr. Darcy? She shook her head. “No, Papa, please,” she begged. She blinked against the tears that threatened to fall.

  “Elizabeth, there is no other option. You will marry Mr. Darcy.” His voice was gentle but firm, and she knew from his use of her full name instead of Lizzy that there was no hope of changing his mind.

  “No,” she said softly as she buried her face in her hands and allowed the tears to fall.

  She felt his arm come around her shoulders. “My dear daughter, it is for the best. Aunt Phillips is not known for her discretion, and the story of your being alone in the library with Mr. Darcy will be circulated, and embellishments will be added. Your betrothal is all that will save your reputation. We must also think of your sisters.”

  Her shoulders shook as she sobbed quietly, but she nodded her head as if she understood the reality of the situation.

  Mr. Bennet swallowed the lump in his throat and strengthened his resolve. This was for the best, even if his heart broke at seeing her so unhappy. “It will be a good thing, Lizzy. I know you do not see it now, but I truly believe there is no one better suited to you than Mr. Darcy.” He kissed the top of her head. “Dry your eyes.” He gave her hand a squeeze as he stood to address Mr. Darcy. “I do not question your honour. I am convinced this is nothing more than an unfortunate chain of events, but the gossip will not present it as such.” His conscience pricked him as he said it. Truly, it was not Darcy’s honour he questioned as much as his own.

  “How shall we proceed?” Darcy’s voice was tight.

  “It might be best if we give everyone time to adjust to the sudden circumstances,” suggested Sir William. “A meeting could be arranged for tomorrow.”

  Darcy nodded mutely, perhaps a few hours to accept their new relationship was what both he and Miss Elizabeth needed. He had been pleased to watch Elizabeth resting in the library. He had imagined her reading at Pemberley, an idea which had taken him by surprise. He had known he was somewhat in danger of having his heart engaged, but he had not expected it to happen so suddenly and without a greater amount of warning. There had been no unease at the thought. It had been as natural as wishing to see his sister, Georgiana. And now as he watched Elizabeth weep at the idea of marrying him, his heart ached.

  “Might I have a few moments with Miss Elizabeth before she leaves?” He was not sure what he could say to ease her distress, but he felt an overwhelming need to at least attempt some sort of comfort.

  Mr. Bennet gave him a sympathetic smile and nodded his consent. The request, coupled with the look of concern on Darcy’s face, eased his mind a bit. His daughter would be loved. Indeed, it appeared she already was. If only she could see past her first impression of the gentleman….

  Mr. Bennet had attempted to paint Darcy in a favourable light, but no matter how hard he had tried, Elizabeth had clung to her opinion that Darcy was proud and disdained everything about her, her family, and the neighbourhood. She was wrong, of course. He had done some shooting with Darcy and Bingley and had found both gentlemen to be pleasant; although, Darcy was more reserved and thoughtful. He pulled the door closed as he and Sir William entered the hall.

  “We have done what is best, have we not?” Mr. Bennet looked to his friend for reassurance.

  Sir William shrugged. “Whether it is best or not, it is done. We must trust that they will eventually be happy together.” He leaned against the door frame across from Mr. Bennet. “Consider the facts. Collins was set to make an offer which would have led to a great upheaval in your household when Elizabeth refused him ─ for you know she would.” Mr. Bennet nodded his agreement. Elizabeth had made her dislike for the gentleman perfectly clear to everyone save to her mother and Mr. Collins.

  Sir William continued, “Then, there were Miss Bingley’s comments about quitting the neighbourhood. That will not happen so quickly now, which will give Jane a greater chance of being happily matched. After all, news of one wedding often leads to news of others. And,” he held up his finger to highlight the point, “it would be desirable to Bingley to be closely related to Darcy. His standing would increase and the felicity between their wives would serve both men well.” He shifted and crossed one leg over the other. “There is also the fact that Mr. Wickham has been showing particular attention to Elizabeth, and from rumors I have heard, he is not the sort of man a father wishes to have pay court to his daughter.” He sighed. “There are no guarantees, but I do believe your choice will prove to be best…in time.”

  Mr. Bennet leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He prayed that he had made the right choice and that, one day, his daughter and his new son would forgive him for his interference.

  Within the library, Darcy cautiously took a seat next to Elizabeth. He longed to pull her to his chest and assure her all would be well, but he could not. Instead, he placed his handkerchief in her lap, giving her the only token of his care he was allowed.

  She took the piece of cloth and dried her eyes as she mumbled her thanks. Then with a slight shake of her head to gain control of her emotions, she spoke. “I am so very sorry. I should not have come
in here. But the people and the noise and the…” Her control failed, and she slipped back into tears as she remembered the turmoil of her feelings after dancing with the man who now sat beside her.

  “It was overwhelming.” Darcy grasped his knee so that he would not take her hand. Those were the very reasons he had sought refuge in the library. Those and the wish to contemplate the desire which had overtaken him during their dance. A desire to relieve Wickham of his life. A desire he had felt once before but never with such intensity as when he considered Elizabeth being taken in by the wastrel.

  She nodded. “And now you are tied to me because I allowed my desire for solace to overwhelm my good sense.” She buried her face in his handkerchief. “I am so very sorry, but my family…my sisters…” The words were muffled somewhat by the cloth she held to her face.

  “No, I should have made my presence known or left as soon as you entered, but I chose to stay.” Colour crept up his neck. He prayed she would not ask him why he had made that choice.

  She shook her head. “I knew you were there. I chose to ignore propriety. Oh, what you must think of me!” Though she had uncovered her face, her eyes were still firmly focused on the handkerchief which she wound in her hands.

  “And what you must think of me.” He gave her a gentle smile as she peeked up at him. “We both chose to ignore propriety.” She nodded. “But, what concerns me more is that you find the prospect of marriage to me to be so horrible as to bring you to tears. Surely, I cannot be that bad.” There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice which made the statement sound more like a question than a statement.

  Elizabeth looked at her hands again. How did one tell the man you were to marry that although he stirred deep and strong emotion in you, you were not sure if you even liked him? “It is the shock of the situation, I am sure,” she mumbled.

  “Of course,” he agreed, although she suspected he did not. They passed a very long and strained moment in silence. “You have not yet deciphered my character. You do not trust me.” There was that uncertainty in his voice again though it sounded more pained than questioning this time.