A Surprise Engagement Read online

  A Surprise Engagement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  A Convenient Marriage, Volume 6

  Meg Osborne

  Published by Meg Osborne, 2018.

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

  A SURPRISE ENGAGEMENT: A PRIDE AND PREJUDICE VARIATION

  First edition. February 27, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Meg Osborne.

  ISBN: 978-1386252092

  Written by Meg Osborne.

  Also by Meg Osborne

  A Convenient Marriage

  A Convenient Marriage Volume 1

  Longbourn's Lark: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Three Weeks in Kent: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Suitably Wed: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  A Visit to Scotland: A Pride and Prejudice Variaton

  The Consequence of Haste: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  A Surprise Engagement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Fate and Fortune

  Too Fond of Stars: A Persuasion Variation

  A Temporary Peace: A Persuasion Variation

  Three Sisters from Hertfordshire

  A Trip to Pemberley

  An Assembly in Bath

  An Escape from London

  Standalone

  After the Letter: A Persuasion Continuation

  Half the Sum of Attraction: A Persuasion Prequel

  A Very Merry Masquerade: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Novella

  The Other Elizabeth Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Novella

  In Netherfield Library and Other Stories

  Mr Darcy's Christmas Carol: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Such Peculiar Providence

  A Chance at Happiness

  The Colonel's Cousin: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Watch for more at Meg Osborne’s site.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By Meg Osborne

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Also By Meg Osborne

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Mary Fitzwilliam crept through the familiar corridors of her childhood home until she reached the room that had always been her favourite. She paused outside its door, holding her breath as she listened, straining to ascertain whether there was anybody within or if, at last, she might have found a place of refuge, away from the rest of her family. Her husband, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, was absent “on business”, which news Mary took to mean he was visiting potential properties located in the environs of this particular part of Hertfordshire. She had unsuccessfully offered to accompany him, eager to escape the chaos of Longbourn for an hour or more. How is it, she had remarked, that the house is emptier than it has ever been, with both Lizzy and I married and moved out, yet it is noisier than ever? Her question had been punctuated by a screech from Lydia and even Colonel Fitzwilliam had flinched at that, a pained expression crossing his features. “Clearly you and Elizabeth were the steadying influences. I do not know how your father bears it.” He had glanced towards Mr Bennet’s study, but its heavy oak door, closed against enquiry or interruption answered Richard’s question. “Well, my dear,” Colonel Fitzwilliam had said. “I shall make some enquiries of my own today and leave you to find yourself a quiet corner while I am away...”

  And so she had. Their own rooms had been quiet only until mid-morning, for once Kitty and Lydia were awake they had bounced in, like a pair of jack-in-the-boxes and peppered Mary with questions about London, all of which she had answered to the best of her ability, seeking an escape when her sisters descended into squabbling about the most enjoyable spot in a city they had only ever visited once before but had each nominated herself an expert in.

  She had tiptoed past Mrs Bennet’s quarters, pleased to note that her mother was thoroughly occupied in considering the particulars of Jane’s wedding to the as-yet-unmet Mr Heatherington.

  Mary pushed the door open, rejoicing internally to find the parlour deserted, her own piano empty. She flew to it, happily sifting through a selection of sheet music books she had left behind like so many abandoned children. She selected one at length and fell to playing, never minding to check her volume or her enthusiasm, instead enjoying the escape both literal and metaphorical that music afforded her.

  Time passed without her notice, so contented was she, and it was not until Mrs Bennet herself shouted into the room that Mary’s peace was shattered, her playing ended as abruptly as if her mother had physically stalked into the room and slammed the lid of the piano closed.

  “Mary!” Mrs Bennet shrieked from the stairs. “Cease that infernal playing immediately! Did you not hear me say that Mr Heatherington’s carriage approaches?”

  “No, Mama,” Mary said, meekly. Inwardly she marvelled. How is it I escaped such an announcement? She had not time to wonder if her sisters were likewise surprised, for both Kitty and Lydia hurried in, squabbling over some half-forgotten dispute, and hurling themselves energetically onto the sofa.

  “Girls!” Mrs Bennet shouted. “Do not run about, so! Such exertions give your complexions a raucous, ruddy glow. What on earth will Mr Heatherington think when he finds you so dishevelled?”

  “That he must rescue Jane immediately from so dull a home!” Lydia exclaimed, a little irritated at being bid to behave, yet again, for another sister’s suitor, and never yet securing her own.

  “Where is Jane?” Mary asked, determined to play peacemaker and more than a little interested to set eyes at last on the mysterious Mr Heatherington.

  “Jane?” Mrs Bennet blinked, her watery eyes struggling to focus, for she never would wear her spectacles, being vain enough to think they obscured her fading, but still not inconsiderable, beauty. “Is she not here? Oh dear! Wherever can she have got to?” Her voice rose again, a shout of agitation. “Jane? Where are you, Jane? Jane!”

  The door to the parlour opened again, but when it admitted not the wayward elder Miss Bennet, but her father, Mrs Bennet rounded crossly upon him.

  “Where is your daughter, sir? Does she not care that her beloved is but moments away from arriving at our home?” She paused. “Yes! Listen, there is his knock. Oh, how disappointed he will be to find her gone!”

  “I am sure he will survive the trial, my sweet,” Mr Bennet said, drily. “Mary, dear, so pleasant to see you once more at your piano. The poor instrument has been sadly ignored since your departure and I dare say she loses her tune for want of playing.”

  Mary smiled, assuring her father that the piano held its pitch admirably, and determining, privately, that she would play it all the more while she and Colonel Fitzwilliam remained at Longbourn.

  “What care have we for piano playing when Jane is miss - oh. Oh! Mr Heatherington! Good afternoon!”

  Mrs Bennet’s complaint had been halted by the arrival of their guest, and she turned a simpering smile on her soon to be son-in-law.

  “Good afternoon Mr Bennet, Mrs Bennet.” A tall, fair-head figure with a cane turned a jolly smile upon each member of the family in turn, his blue eyes narrowing a fraction as he reached Mary. “And this must be Miss - ah Mrs?” He frowned, helplessness creasing his features.

  “Mrs Fitzwilliam,” Mary said.

  “Mary,” Lydia declared, with a
n expansive sigh. “She’s just our sister.”

  “The musical one.” Mr Heatherington raised an eyebrow. “Recently married to a colonel, if I recall correctly?”

  “I see Jane keeps you well informed,” Mary said, with a shy smile.

  “Where is the colonel?” Mr Bennet asked, glancing around in confusion as if he had just realised Colonel Fitzwilliam was not in fact amongst them.

  “He has gone to view prospective properties.” Mrs Bennet laughed, a silly, ingratiating sound that did not altogether disguise her irritation with her husband. “He said as much at breakfast, my dear Mr Bennet.”

  Mary’s father nodded, vaguely, and turned away from his wife, suitably chastened.

  “I had endeavoured to press him to a game of chess. Fine strategist, the colonel. Comes of being in the military, I don’t doubt.”

  There was an audible intake of breath from at least half the feminine contingent in the room and Mary turned, confused, to inquire as to its cause. Before she could ask the question Mr Heatherington provided an answer, accompanied with an amiable smile that revealed to Mary a glimpse of just how her eldest sister had come to form an attachment to the friendly gentleman in front of her.

  “They’ll not care to mention the war in front of me, Mrs Fitzwilliam, so I shall do it myself. In fact, I’m surprised you did not know if its impact on me and my circumstances already.” His smile faded a fraction. “I am a trifle lame, but sound in mind still, if not in body.” He turned to Mr Bennet. “Sound enough that I am content to offer myself as an opponent in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s stead. I assure you, Mr Bennet, I may seem a good-natured gentleman but that is entirely deception. On the chessboard, I am as treacherous a foe as Napoleon himself.”

  Mary laughed, feeling rather sorry that Richard was absent, for she felt sure he would like this new addition to life at Longbourn and approve of him winning Jane’s heart and hand, even if he had not the good fortune of being named Bingley.

  COLONEL FITZWILLIAM strode purposefully back towards Longbourn. His day had given him much to think about, and he was glad he had not been making the journey entirely alone. Mr Bennet had given him the information of a man in Meryton, a lawyer, who would offer his assistance to Richard as he had done to many of Mr Bennet’s acquaintances, and that gentleman himself, in visiting a number of local properties and securing one for Colonel Fitzwilliam and his wife’s first home. The number of houses they had viewed that day had given Richard a great deal to consider. Ought he to stretch to the very limits of what his modest income could afford, and secure a house to rival Netherfield Park? Such an estate would require a good deal of maintenance but would secure their position in Hertfordshire society. Ought he, instead, seek for something more modest, where they might be comfortable, but not risk ruin in maintaining? He leaned towards the latter, grateful that the wife he had married was a modest, sensible creature and not one who wished for the best and the biggest property in order to impress their new neighbours. I will discuss it with her this afternoon, he promised himself, already settling on one or two of the properties that were his favoured options. If she agreed with his assessments they might ride over together tomorrow to view them, for he was reluctant to make a final decision without his wife’s canny gaze having passed over the property and giving her a chance to offer her own opinion. She would be living their alongside him, after all, and ought to be consulted upon the place they would call home.

  This idea cheered him, and his pace increased in energy as he drew closer to Longbourn. A movement in the shadow of the house caught his attention, however, and he slowed to a sudden stop, before recognising the figure and waving, with a cheerful “Good afternoon Miss Bennet!” to Jane, who was hovering in the shade of a tree.

  “Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam!” she said, not appearing disappointed to have been thus disturbed, and by him. “I thought you were inside.”

  “I am surprised to find you not indoors!” He drew level with her, concern colouring his face. “There is no problem, I hope?”

  “No,” Jane smiled, ruefully. “No problem! I merely needed to escape.” Her smile faded as she perceived Colonel Fitzwilliam attributing rather more seriousness to her words than she had intended. “To escape Mama, I mean. Her head is filled with the wedding and she can barely let a moment pass without some mention of it.” She sighed. “I needed a few moments’ respite.”

  “I trust you have enjoyed your snatched freedom?” Richard said, gallantly offering her his arm. “And as I return from viewing a number of properties, all of which your mother will doubtlessly enquire upon as to the particulars of their size and location, we might return together and you can consider yourself freed from her scrutiny for at least, at least an hour!”

  Jane laughed, and took his arm, as they made their way up the steps towards the entrance of the house. They had not even crossed the threshold when Mrs Bennet’s voice reached them, tempered with a calm that must have been artifice, for both Richard and Jane exchanged a surprised glance.

  “Jane! Oh, here you are, returned to us at last! Where have you been about? Were not you aware that dear Mr Heatherington intended to call upon us this very hour?”

  “I was not!” Jane relinquished Richard’s arm and hurried down the corridor, shedding her pelisse and bonnet as she did into the arms of a waiting servant. “Oh, forgive me!”

  Richard followed close behind her, eager to see this Heatherington fellow for himself, for, whilst he assumed a manner of polite disinterest, he could not help but be curious to see who it was that had so completely eclipsed Charles Bingley in Jane Bennet’s affections, and to see if he could glean some true insight into the gentleman’s nature. Darcy would undoubtedly wish to know, although he would never own as much.

  “And Colonel Fitzwilliam too!” Mrs Bennet crowed, as he entered the parlour. “Well, now, this is providence indeed! Come and be introduced to Mr Heatherington.” Mrs Bennet’s voice had become little more than a reverential breath as she uttered the gentleman’s name, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was amused to see a flare of embarrassment creep up the stranger’s neck at being so admired. A hearty handshake endeared him to Richard still more, and his good opinion was sealed when Heatherington warmly endorsed Richard’s own wife in his hearing.

  “I have been introduced to Mrs Fitzwilliam and had hoped I might yet meet her husband. I have it on good authority that we are to be friends, Colonel, and so I would like to offer my services to you in securing your property hereabouts. As someone who has but recently undertaken such a task, I fancy I have some ideas as to its scope and scale. I trust your enquiries are enjoyable and have not yet become an unenviable chore?”

  “Not yet,” Richard said, with a grim laugh. He was not fond of business and had precipitously glazed over when his agent began throwing figures around. He was no fool, but he lacked Darcy’s mathematical brain.

  “What business are you in, Heatherington?” he asked, as more tea was fetched and the group broke down into smaller twos and threes.

  “Commerce,” Heatherington said. He exchanged a glance with Mary. “I was lately in the military, but as you may gather, His Majesty has little use for troops that are lamed.”

  Richard’s features drew down in compassion. He knew well enough the trials of fellows maimed by war, and it was on the tip of his tongue to enquire after Heatherington’s well-being, forgetting for a moment that they were not alone, and recalling himself to the present in time to prevent such a personal inquiry in the presence of the ladies.

  “Where do you lodge, sir?” he asked, eager to offer some alternate conversation, and curious to know, now, whether this fellow and they might be neighbours. Country living would certainly not be stultifying with a companionable fellow nearby. They could not ride, of course, but there might be shooting, perhaps, for Heatherington did not seem unduly fazed by his injury. And it would serve Mary well to have one sister she might confide in.

  Heatherington named a place, and Richard attempted to assimilat
e it into his widening picture of Hertfordshire. He did not recognise it, but that was to be expected, for he was still learning his new locality.

  He exchanged a glance with Mary and saw she was won over by their new acquaintance. He would be too, he was sure, and cast a grateful thanks that there would be at least one sensible fellow living nearby.

  Chapter Two

  “I hope you will be happy here,” Fitzwilliam Darcy said, his voice little more than a grumble.

  “Oh, we shall be!” Anne exclaimed, impetuously embracing Elizabeth, and turning back to seek her husband’s agreement.

  The promised day had arrived, and sooner than Darcy thought possible. George and Anne - Mr and Mrs Wickham - were settling in their own home at Pemberley Lodge, vacating the house and clearing the way for Georgiana to return. Darcy was eager to have his sister home again, feeling increasingly aware of her absence. He feared the residents of Lattimer Place felt ill-used, although Bingley had assured him this was not the case. Charles Bingley could never feel ill-used by any soul, however, and his feelings were not necessarily so warmly shared by Mr and Mrs Hurst, so it was not without relief that Darcy established Mr and Mrs Wickham at the further reaches of the estate. They would be pressed into society on occasion, he knew, but the physical distance would enable such occasional meetings rather more enjoyable for all concerned.

  Enjoyable. There was a word he never thought possible of thinking in relation to the man beside him. Yet George Wickham seemed to have undergone some material shift in recent weeks. He had been working long hours in town, often so late as to miss his meals, yet he did not complain about his hours. When first he did not return home, Darcy feared the worst and had been moments away from riding out in search of him. He had begun constructing a mental list of which inns would most likely have enticed George Wickham back into his former hobbies. Yet, before he got as far as the door, it had open, and Wickham himself strode in, full of muttered apologies and smelling of nothing more than india-rubber and ink.