A Very Merry Masquerade Read online

  A Very Merry Masquerade: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Novella

  Meg Osborne

  Published by Meg Osborne, 2016.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  A VERY MERRY MASQUERADE: A PRIDE AND PREJUDICE VARIATION NOVELLA

  First edition. December 12, 2016.

  Copyright © 2016 Meg Osborne.

  ISBN: 978-1540104281

  Written by Meg Osborne.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

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  About the Author

  To my family, who indulge (or endure) my love of everything Christmas; and to Jane Austen, who first created Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

  Chapter One

  “This is very unusual!” Mrs Bennet murmured to herself, reading over Mrs Gardiner’s letter again. “Lizzy!” she cried, weaving from one room to another, paying closer attention to the words on the paper before her than to her progress across the house. “Jane! Where are you both? Come at once, I have something to discuss with you!”

  Lydia, who had bent to retrieve a lost ribbon, served nearly to trip her mother had she not moved at the last moment, and instead won a scathing look from her impatient mother.

  “LIZZY!” Mrs Bennet screeched, hoping this might, at last, have the desired effect of bringing her wayward daughter to her notice.

  “She is out walking, Mama,” Kitty observed, glancing up from her book to provide a disinterested answer.

  “In this weather?” Mrs Gardiner’s letter momentarily forgotten, Mrs Bennet turned wide eyes to the windows, pebbled with thick raindrops. “She’ll catch her death, and -”

  The door opened, then, and Elizabeth Bennet tumbled through the doorway, laughing breathlessly.

  “Goodness! That rain came on out of nowhere,” she said, stomping her feet to will some warmth back into her numb toes. “Still, the cold is delightful.” She shook her head, sending drops of icy water splattering in all directions. “Mama, you ought to take a turn once the rain clears.”

  “I certainly shall not!” Mrs Bennet cried, looking with dismay at her daughter. “Elizabeth Bennet, you are covered in mud. Where do you get these wild, rambling ways, I’m sure I cannot be held responsible for such behaviour!”

  “I am part horse, I don’t doubt,” Elizabeth said, laughing again. “For I do love to be outside, to walk and to run.” Stepping out of her shoes, she slid, stocking-footed towards the fire and held her hands out towards it, watching the pale fingers warm to flesh colour once more. “I don’t know how you can all stand to stay cooped up in here all day.”

  “I find it quite relaxing!” Lydia said, with a loud yawn.

  “Lydia, please!” Mrs Bennet hissed. “Do any of us wish to see the inside of your throat?”

  “Sorry, Mama,” the younger Miss Bennets both giggled, interrupted only when Mary sighed loudly from her seat in the corner. She did not look up from the book she was immersed in. Lizzy’s eyes sparkled. “And Mary, so lovely to see you just where I left you this morning. How is dear old Fordyce?”

  “Instructive,” her sister mumbled, and pointedly turned a page.

  “Mama, did you call?” Jane pushed the door open and joined her sisters in the sitting room. “I’m sorry, I had taken a nap to try and clear my headache.”

  "You ought to have gone walking with Lizzy," Lydia remarked. "Apparently we are all dreadfully idle and lazy for staying indoors like cats and ought to instead grub about in the rain and catch colds if we are to be truly worthy humans." She stuck her tongue out at Elizabeth, who swallowed any retort she might otherwise have given, and turned her attention to the sister she most considered a friend.

  “Are you feeling better, dear?” she asked, turning her back to the fire that she might regard her family more easily, and toast her back side to match the front.

  “A little,” Jane said, with a faint smile.

  Lizzy frowned. She knew the true cause of Jane’s headache would not be cured by half an hour’s extra sleep. No, it would not fully depart until she received a letter from Mr Bingley - or, at a stretch, his sister Miss Caroline Bingley - that might explain their sudden departure for London, and the abandonment of all Jane’s hopes of that young man’s affections. The girls shared a wordless glance which communicated all the sympathy that existed between them, interrupted only by Mrs Bennet’s recollection of her letter.

  “At last, you are both here and I might share this news I received, just this morning, from my dear sister-in-law.”

  “Are they writing to tell us of their arrival for Christmas?” Jane asked, crossing the room and sitting down on the narrow sofa next to Lydia, who grumpily folded her feet under her in order that her sister might sit unhindered.

  “Well, this is just the thing!” Mrs Bennet said, lifting the letter again. Too vain to wear eyeglasses, she was forced to squint terribly in order to make out the tiny, delicate writing of Mrs Gardiner. “She says...bless me, where did I read it...aha, here it is. My husband, your brother, is sadly unwell and not fit for our usual trip to Hertfordshire in order that we might celebrate Christmas with you. Oh, you need not have any concern for his health, for he has been attended by the finest doctors who assure us of his recovery if he is sensible of care and remains at home. We are both so dreadfully disappointed to miss seeing family at Christmas, and as such have a suggestion I do hope you will agree to. Might we invite Jane and Elizabeth to stay with us for two weeks, ending in January, that they might enjoy the festivities of London at Christmas time, and offer their poor old Aunt and Uncle a little jolly society during Mr Gardiner’s recuperation?

  “Oh, may we?” Lizzy ran forward to her mother, quite forgetting her intent to warm herself by the fire. “Jane!” she cried, turning to catch her sister’s eyes. “London!”

  Jane looked up, meeting Elizabeth’s gaze and understanding all the unexpressed excitement surrounding a trip to London. London was where Mr Bingley’s party had retreated to. Here, at last, they might see him again, and discern the truth of his feelings for Jane.

  “I don’t know...” Jane began.

  “How can you hesitate?” Lizzy prompted. “Surely -”

  “I can well understand it,” Mrs Bennet said, affecting a deep, sympathetic tone. “For I, too, prefer a quiet Christmas at home, surrounded by family, to the hustle bustle of town. Indeed, it is quite unfeeling of my sister and brother to snatch you away -”

  “They merely write to invite us, Mother,” Lizzy said. “And I think we should go.” She took a breath. “Oh, are you not eager for some change in scenery, some new experiences?”

  Jane wavered, still, though Lizzy felt sure she was beginning to catch her own excitement at the thought of spending Christmas in London, and with the Aunt and Uncle both she and Lizzy were so particularly fond of. Fearing their mother might immediately attempt to sway Jane back into staying in Hertfordshire, Lizzy played the card that she knew would leave Mrs Bennet incandescent with enthusiasm for the proposed trip. “After all, we might cross paths with Mr Bingley once more, in London. Did not his sister write that they were staying there for Christmas?”

  “Oh, indeed!” Mrs Bennet breathed. "Well, in that case, you must definitely go. For I don't doubt they are both eager to see you, Jane, dear, and it will be so wonderful for you
to be reunited at Christmas. And in London!" She clutched the letter to her ample bosom and sighed. "How romantic!"

  Jane smiled, admitting she was beaten, and lifted her gaze to Lizzy’s one more. Her eyes were cloudy, but not entirely unhappy at this turn of events.

  Do not worry! Elizabeth telegraphed silently. We shall have a jolly time, Bingley or no Bingley. To herself, however, she firmly determined that they would not leave London without an agreement settled between her sister and the man who was clearly in love with her. I defy even Mr Darcy to prevent the magic of the season from uniting this pair of lovers, she thought, with a sly smile.

  ***

  “Why London?” It was the thought Fitzwilliam Darcy had had often, since their party’s arrival in the rowdy capital. Rowdier still, by virtue of the season.

  Do these people not have homes to go to? he thought, with a glum observance of the crowded inn he, Charles and Miss Bingley dined in. Mr and Mrs Hurst had had the good sense - though it pained Darcy to credit the pair with sense at all - to wait only a day or two in London. Enough to admire the sights, Charles, but then we must repair home, Mrs Hurst had said, offering an apologetic embrace to her sister and bidding the group farewell. Darcy had rejoiced inwardly at their leaving, hoping the two remaining Bingleys would acknowledge their wisdom and do likewise. It had been a full twelve hours and as yet no move had been suggested.

  "The city is so crowded," he observed once more. "And I cannot help but reflect we might be just as comfortable spending Christmas at Pemberley. Some of us more so." This last had been muttered under his breath, intended only for Charles' ears. Unfortunately, at that moment an inexplicable, momentary hush had fallen over the inn and Miss Bingley, who had been attending most carefully to Darcy’s every breath, leapt on his suggestion.

  “How generous you are, Mr Darcy, to invite my poor brother and me to stay with you for Christmas!” She flashed a brilliant, and entirely too enthusiastic, smile at him. “Yet I do feel Charles is most determined that we enjoy the city, arrayed in all its finery, are not you, Charles?”

  Charles Bingley did not respond. Indeed, it was apparent that the entire exchange had completely passed him by. He kept his gaze fixed on the plate of food before him, largely untouched, his usually jolly countenance downcast.

  Darcy frowned. Bingley had been that way since leaving Netherfield. Since leaving Miss Jane Bennet, a quiet voice reminded him.

  Not for the first time since their leaving Hertfordshire, Darcy wondered if he had done the right thing in spiriting his friend away. Would he rather his friend morose and miserable, or mooning after someone entirely inappropriate? He shall rally soon, he thought, with an effort to wrangle his own thoughts into order. He, himself, felt certain he had left a part of his heart in the country, though he would scarcely own it even to himself. Elizabeth Bennet still tugged at his memories, flashing into view when he least expected her to. That very day he could have sworn he had seen her, passing in the crowded street. But the notion was absurd. If Bingley is broken hearted, I am bewitched - and perhaps the capital is just the place to reclaim my right mind.

  “Charles!” Caroline hissed.

  Bingley sat upright, suddenly, and fixed a wary gaze on his sister.

  “What is it?” he asked, recalling himself to their present location.

  “Mr Darcy made a very kind invitation to us to join him for a quiet Christmas at Pemberley, instead of here. Is that not generous of him?”

  “Oh, er, yes.” Bingley turned a weary smile towards him. “Most kind, old chap. I suppose you would rather that than, er...” He waved his hand to indicate the heaving masses surrounding them, and nodded in understanding.

  “Actually...” Darcy straightened, feeling every word catch in his throat. “Actually I rather feel that London is the better situation.”

  Both Bingleys reacted with common surprise, and Darcy felt his frown deepen.

  “I feel rather convinced that Pemberley is...cold...this time of year. And here, we are...warm...” He glanced about him desperately, seizing on the roaring fire that was gently toasting the entire room.

  “We are warm because the room is populated by at least twice as many as it was designed to hold comfortably,” Bingley said, with a chuckle. “Dear me, Darce, has the Christmas spirit got to you already, that you would rather be here among bustling London society than closeted away in your own domain?”

  “Society?” Darcy choked.

  “You cannot mean to spend Christmas in London and see no-one!” Caroline laughed, but the sound was grating. Darcy recalled, in spite of himself, the musical laugh of Elizabeth Bennet as she chided him on his inability to both dance and hold a conversation. Oh, who will rid me of this woman! He blinked his eyes rapidly to clear the memory.

  “I fear that is exactly what he intends, sister.” Charles laughed. “Yet we shall not let him. No, Darcy, I expect you are right and London is the best place for us to lodge this season. We shall do what fashionable people do, and attend balls - there will be the New Year masquerade of course...” His friend began listing the popular gatherings that would take place over the following fortnight, and Darcy groaned inwardly.

  Yet see how animated he is. The mere mention of Christmas in town and he is almost his old self again. He could not help but acknowledge the difference in his friend, and would succumb to any amount of teasing if it kept Charles content, and no longer dwelling on the loss of Miss Jane Bennet’s affections. Who knew, perhaps he would even find another on whom to fix his heart during this short break away. Someone altogether more appropriate, Darcy thought, more certain now than ever that his intervention had been right. Charles deserved to be loved for more than his money, and a poor family; a loud, obnoxious family such as the Bennets, did not deserve his good-natured affection, or his wealth.

  “Will Georgiana not be pressed into joining us, Mr Darcy?” Caroline's voice insinuated itself into his thoughts. “I cannot but imagine what a jolly foursome we might make." Her voice was loaded with meaning, and when she met his gaze Darcy could not look away quickly enough. He had suspected for some time that Caroline Bingley's interest in him was in rather more than the shared acquaintance of her brother. She had made several comments that would have been questionable in wider society, comments that he would even venture to call loaded, though there had always been some excuse or some chance he had misheard.

  In saving Charles from his fate, I seem to have secured my own, he thought, turning his attention with all ferocity back to his meal. Oh, how I wish this Christmas were already over!

  Chapter Two

  “Here we are, girls!” Mrs Gardiner said, ushering Lizzy and Jane into a cosy looking bedroom a little way down the corridor from her own. “I do hope you are happy to share. We have plenty of space for you to have your own room, of course.” Here her eyes twinkled as if she were pre-empting a comment by the absent Mrs Bennet, but neither sister said a word.

  “I thought, as you are so close, you might prefer to stay together. I know sisters often love to whisper and share secrets into the night and I do think that is so much easier when you are in the same room.” She shivered and cast a glance at the languishing fire, which would need stoking into life before the girls retired that evening. “Warmer, too.” She surveyed the clean, bright room with a satisfied nod. “Well, my dears, I expect you are tired after your journey. I shall leave you here to rest a while and when you are ready please do come down to the sitting room and join Mr Gardiner and me for a spot of tea. We can discuss your plans for your stay in town.”

  She had gone and scarcely closed the door behind her when Lizzy hopped up on the bed.

  “How splendid this room is for us, Jane. I do think it was kind of Aunt Gardner to put is in a room together, for I shouldn’t relax half so easily without you beside me.” She flopped back on the pillows and raised her eyes to the ceiling. London! They had arrived at last! What shall we do first? She began turning over the possibilities in her mind. There would b
e Christmas parties, of course, and places they would need to accompany their Aunt and Uncle to in order to greet friends so close to Christmas. And balls and parties, no doubt, offering plenty of opportunities to dance and meet new people.

  “I wonder if Miss Bingley received my note,” Jane said, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed and peering out of a window that lined the far wall.

  With effort, Lizzy raised herself up on her elbows. “Five minutes in town and your thoughts are with Miss Bingley. I ought to be quite affronted.”

  “I merely wondered if we ought to wait on her card before calling on them...” Jane said, innocently. Lizzy sighed. She need not ask to know who of “them” her sister truly cared about seeing.

  “We shall give her a day or two more and then go ourselves,” she said, secretly sure she could not be fortunate enough to avoid communication from Caroline Bingley for two whole days.

  As it turned out, two days quickly passed without any note. Then another, and another, where Jane’s tentative question of a servant was answered with a cheerful, “no cards today, Miss Bennet.”

  They were sitting at a quiet breakfast with their aunt, Uncle Gardiner having asked for a tray in his room as he was still recovering from their previous evening’s soiree.

  “Has Miss Bingley still not written?” Mrs Gardiner asked, her sharp eyes seeking out Jane’s concern. “But she knows you are here, surely?”

  “She ought to know,” Jane said, meekly. “For I wrote to her that we were coming and would dearly love to see them over Christmas if it were at all possible.”

  “Possible!” Mrs Gardiner sniffed. “It is quite possible your paths will cross at the masquerade on New Year’s Eve, and only right you should desire to renew your acquaintance before then. She has not returned your compliments?”

  Jane shook her head.