Rose Cottage Read online

  Rose Cottage

  a Pride and Prejudice Variation

  A. K. Madison

  Copyright © 2020 A. K. Madison

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

  To G. G. M.

  April 17, 1949 - July 17, 2011

  . . . and if God choose,

  I shall but love thee better after death.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Acknowledgement

  About The Author

  Preface

  Gentle Reader,

  I hope this brief introduction will acquaint you with the background of my variation on Jane Austen's incomparable Pride and Prejudice.

  This story assumes that Elizabeth never went into Derbyshire with her aunt and Uncle Gardiner. She and Fitzwilliam Darcy part after the failed marriage proposal at Hunsford Parsonage and do not see each other again until the opening of the story. Darcy, however, has done his work of reconciliation, and Jane Bennet marries Charles Bingley in a ceremony that takes place in early December. Bingley purchases Netherfield. Lydia Bennet never elopes with George Wickham, though she does maintain her interest in the officers of the __shire Militia.

  Tragedy strikes after the New Year with the sudden death of Mr. Bennet. His wife’s greatest fear, that of losing Longbourn, will be realized in a few short weeks. Bingley has located a cottage on the property at Netherfield Park. Rundown, and unfit for habitation, it is nonetheless spacious, ample, and beautifully situated. Bingley begins to plan for renovations in consultation with Mr. Phillips and Mr. Gardiner. Due to a misdirected letter, Fitzwilliam Darcy arrives at Netherfield on the very eve of Mr. Bennet’s funeral, and the events of the story begin to unfold.

  A warning note: You will find within these pages two episodes of violence. They are neither graphic nor are they sensational. They are necessary for the advancement of the story, but they do exist. You will also find a love scene involving our hero and heroine on the evening of their wedding day. We shall draw the curtain and tiptoe away before things grow too intense.

  Enjoy!

  A.K. Madison

  June, 2020

  Chapter 1

  She sat in the silent parlor lit only by two candles. Her head ached abominably, probably from the number of tears she had shed, and she leaned it against the cool surface of the dark walnut from which the coffin had been constructed. She found the coolness soothing, and in a moment or two, wiped her eyes on her sodden handkerchief and opened her prayer book to the service for the Burial of the Dead. Somewhere on the ground floor, she heard a clock chime midnight. Outside, the wind picked up and began blowing from the north. She could hear it howling, and the dry, scuttling sounds of leaves being blown across the gravel sweep.

  Anyone looking in through a window would have perceived her as a sort of wraith. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with her dark hair and her sad-colored gown. Her eyes seemed enormous. She looked out over the room for a few minutes and then lowered her eyes and began reading again:

  The Lord is my shepherd, Therefore can I lack nothing.

  The familiar words brought no solace, but she continued to read, her lips moving slightly as though she were reading the psalm aloud.

  She was startled to hear a rustle in the hallway as someone entered. Her mother’s face was illuminated in the dim candlelight.

  “Mama! You should be abed and sleeping. We will watch over him for you.”

  “Oh, Lizzy,” cried her mother, choking back tears. “I need to spend some private time with him. Go to your bed. I will awaken Mary in an hour or two. I promise.”

  She stood and embraced her mother, knowing that argument was useless but determined to try anyway. “But you are exhausted! And tomorrow—or today rather—is the day of the funeral.”

  “I know it. But, Lizzy, I have been so foolish. All these years I have been going on about the entail and the hedgerows and all the rest of it. I made his life a misery. And now he is gone. And I never asked his forgiveness.” Fanny Bennet burst into tears.

  “Oh, Mama. He has already forgiven you. Try to remember the past only as it brings you pleasure.” She led her mother to the chair where she had been sitting and handed her the prayer book. “Sit here in peace, but do not weep so! Someone will come to be with you in an hour’s time.” She kissed her mother’s cheek, squeezed her hand, turned, and left the room.

  Once upstairs, Elizabeth was quiet out of habit as she entered the bedchamber that she had shared with her sister Jane. But Jane was not there. She was three miles away, sleeping by her husband’s side at their estate at Netherfield. Their wedding, just two months before, had been an occasion of great joy for the family. Charles Bingley was devoted to his bride. He had arranged to purchase Netherfield despite its proximity to his mother-in-law, and as soon as the honeymoon was over, he had scouted over the property and found a spacious, attractive old cottage that could be renovated into an eventual home for Mrs. Bennet.

  Elizabeth allowed herself a ragged sigh as she removed her dress. No one had expected that Rose Cottage would be needed so soon. She got beneath the bedcovers, shivering a little at the chilled sheets and the sound of the wind outside. Nevertheless, she fell quickly into an exhausted, dreamless slumber. She did not awaken until shortly after dawn when Susan came in to help her dress. “Oh, Susan. I have slept right through the time when I should have awakened Mary. Is my poor mother all right?”

  “Yes, miss. Miss Mary sat up with Mr. Bennet until dawn, and she is resting in her room. Mrs. Bennet is also asleep. Mrs. Philips is keeping watch over him now and will stay with him until the funeral. She has had coffee, but she has not breakfasted.”

  While the maid had been talking, Elizabeth had busied herself washing and dressing. Susan helped her put on the new black dress, especially made for the occasion, and Elizabeth was soon seated for the maid to do her hair. Within a few minutes, she was downstairs. She ignored the headache that was beginning behind her eyes and shook off the feeling of unreality that came from too little sleep. Despite the cloudy day, everything seemed just a little too bright, a little unreal.

  Mrs. Hill intercepted her in the front hallway, her starched white apron and cap stark against her black gown. “Miss Bennet, we expect the party from Netherfield at any moment. I am having the breakfast laid out on the sideboard in the dining room. I will sit with Mr. Bennet during breakfast so that Mrs. Philips can have something to eat. Miss Mary and your mother will be down later.”

  “That is very kind of you, Mrs. Hill.” Before Elizabeth could say
any more, Kitty and Lydia, the two youngest, came down the stairs at a sedate pace. Both girls had obviously been weeping, and both looked far too young to be wearing their severe black gowns. Elizabeth’s heart went out to them, and she hurried over to embrace them. “You girls go and get some tea. We’ll be in . . .” Before she could finish, they heard carriage wheels. Elizabeth and her sisters were swept into the embraces of the Gardiners and the Bingleys. Mrs. Hill went into the drawing-room, and Mrs. Philips emerged to be embraced in her turn.

  “Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth managed to keep her voice quiet, but she could not suppress her shock at seeing him. He stood just by the front door, attired in black, keeping apart from the family. Any other man would have looked awkward, but Fitzwilliam Darcy was never awkward.

  “Miss Bennet.” He stepped forward and bowed. His face was solemn, but was that kindness she saw flickering in his eyes? Impossible. “Mr. Bingley and I had a prior engagement to meet for a few days at Netherfield, and his letter informing me of the recent tragic event was misdirected. I arrived last night and was informed of your loss, and I am here to express my condolences and to offer to be of service.” His eyes seemed to search her face for the briefest moment before he turned to her sisters. “Miss Catherine. Miss Lydia. I am deeply sorry for your loss.” He bowed again to the girls, and both bobbed curtsies in return, as did Elizabeth.

  “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Please join us for breakfast.” The group began moving toward the dining room, and Darcy followed behind the others. Once everyone had filled a plate, they took seats around the table, and the maid poured out coffee and tea for them.

  Charles Bingley spoke first. “Lizzy,” he began, for he had come to regard her as part of his own family. “A great deal of progress has been made on Rose Cottage, but winter has set in. I have some concern about finishing it before Mr. Collins wishes to take over the property here.”

  His wife chimed in. “We want you and Mama and the girls to come and stay with us at Netherfield until the spring. Any items of furniture Mama wishes to bring, and perhaps Papa’s books, can be stored in the attics there. There is more than enough room for all of you. It seems the best way to us.”

  Mr. Gardiner raised his eyebrows. “Work on the cottage has stopped?”

  “Essentially, yes. Why do you ask, sir?”

  “In Town, building work continues virtually unabated except during intervals of snow or heavy rain. Even then, there is usually work that can be accomplished on the interior of a building. A London builder would say that time is money.”

  “Very true, sir,” observed Darcy. “It seems that in this case, time is of the essence.” He turned to Bingley. “Here is a task with which I might be of service. I have overseen enough renovations to know what is involved in getting the work done. If local labor is insufficient, we might see about bringing in workers from London.”

  “That is very kind of you, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth finally spoke up from her place. “But what of your various occupations in town and on your estate in Derbyshire? You must be a busy man.”

  “I would hate to think of myself as being so busy as not to be able to help friends when I can. At this time of year, I have little to do. My sister is in town with her companion studying with several masters under the supervision of our aunt, Lady Matlock. Pemberley is usually quiet at this time of year. Any business I need to transact can be easily taken care of by an occasional visit to Town. I would be honored to assist if you approve, Miss Bennet.”

  Elizabeth inclined her head with as much grace as she could muster. Darcy’s assertions astonished her because they seemed so unlike him. “I thank you on behalf of myself and all my family,” she replied.

  “Bingley, let us arrange to go to the cottage first thing tomorrow, after Mr. Bennet’s final rites have been observed.”

  They were interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Bennet, leaning on Mary’s arm. Mrs. Bennet was quiet and composed. She greeted everyone, including Darcy, and accepted a cup of coffee, but she would do nothing but toy with a plate of fruit. Jane finally persuaded her to accept one half, then the other half, of one of her favorite muffins. Mary ate gratefully but did not say much beyond greeting everyone. The table grew quiet, and the silence became awkward.

  The clock chimed the hour of nine, and Elizabeth stood and announced, “They will be here to take Papa to the church at ten. The funeral is to be at half-past ten. Please make yourselves comfortable in the east drawing room or feel free to linger over your coffee here.” Her Aunt Gardiner signaled to her to come to the library.

  Once they were in the library, Mrs. Gardiner took up a small package. “Here are proper black gloves for you, Mary, Lydia, and Kitty. Cloaks will be forthcoming, but they will take a few more days. I suggest you wear your warm wraps and leave them in the carriage. We will not be attending the graveside services in any case, so all you have to do is get into and out of the church.”

  “Thank you, Aunt. You have been such a help to us.”

  “How is your mother?”

  “She is grieving over my father. But she is also mourning her foolish behavior toward him, what she calls ‘the hedgerows and the entail.’ She realizes how difficult she made his life, and she is distressed that she never asked for his forgiveness. She came down a little after midnight and took my watch over the coffin. I assume Mary relieved her at some point.”

  Aunt Gardiner shook her head. “We never know what we have until we lose it.” She laid a hand on each of Elizabeth’s shoulders and searched her face. “You, Lizzy, are going to become the head of the family. It is inevitable. You will always have your uncle and Mr. Bingley, but I suspect the day-to-day management of Rose Cottage will fall on your shoulders.” She gathered her niece into an embrace.

  Elizabeth felt her stomach lurch as it always did when this subject was brought up. She envisioned a lifetime of growing old as she cared for an increasingly irrational mother while her other sisters had husbands and families. “I am ready, Aunt. Truly I am. I know I can always come to you with questions. The Hills are coming with us, as are Cook and Susan. Charles and Jane, and you and Uncle, have been so generous towards us. I shall manage quite well.” She summoned up a watery smile. “Besides, you know how I am. I always behave better when I have something to occupy me.”

  The two women left the library, and Elizabeth looked into the drawing room where her father rested. Aunt Philips bent her head over her Prayer Book. Mr. Darcy stood with one hand resting on the coffin, eyes closed, head bent in an attitude of prayer. Elizabeth said nothing, and she and Aunt Gardiner walked quietly to the east drawing room where the rest of the family were gathered. People were beginning to put on their coats, and Elizabeth distributed the gloves among her sisters.

  The master of Longbourn was to be buried according to the old country ways, and instead of a glass-walled hearse, a farm wagon drawn by a team of Longbourn’s finest draft horses came forward. Six of Longbourn’s tenants, attired in their best, entered the house to bring the coffin to the wagon. The sky was leaden, and rain threatened, but an occasional shaft of sunlight broke through. Elizabeth saw the coats of the horses, brushed to a glossy sheen, picked out in the sunlight like rich, dull satin. There were no flowers to be had in February, but boughs of evergreen and winter berries were heaped around the coffin and a wreath of yew and rosemary had been placed atop it. The gentlemen assisted the ladies into two carriages and took their places behind the wagon. As was fitting, Mr. Bingley and Uncles Philips and Gardiner followed the wagon. Darcy, with perfect propriety, walked among the large group of men who followed the chief mourners.

  The small Longbourn church was packed. Elizabeth and Jane supported their mother between them. The funeral service, mercifully brief and always comforting, was read by their vicar, Dr. Price. There was no eulogy. After the closing psalm, Dr. Price escorted the family out, and the ladies were helped back into the carriages for the short ride home. The men would gather in the churchyard where the body of Thomas Bennet would be c
ommitted to the earth.

  Chapter 2

  The mourners returned to a house transformed. Women of all ranks bustled about. Because of the cold, trestle tables and benches had been set up in the front hall to serve the tenants and local farmers. For the gentry, the rear drawing-room had been converted into a second dining room. Mrs. Hill, standing in the front hall, directed the women in setting out the great quantities of food and drink provided by the neighbors. Servants hurried from the kitchen with platters of meat and other foods.

  Elizabeth and Jane supported their mother, who was silent and dry-eyed. Elizabeth felt a sense of unreality, as though she were watching the scene through a window from some distance away. The men came in, and the Bennet sisters stood with their mother in the front drawing-room to receive the condolences of each guest. It seemed to take hours. Despite the subdued voices of the mourners, the hum of conversation felt deafening.

  “I think I need to go and lie down, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet when the last person had been greeted.

  Hill was at her elbow in an instant. “I’ll see to her, Miss Bennet. You go and get yourself something to eat.” She reached into a pocket. “This express come for you during the funeral.”

  Elizabeth took the letter and put it in her pocket, noting that it was from Charlotte Collins. She then turned to take up her duties as hostess, ensuring that everyone had food and a place to sit down and that no one wanted for anything. She was stopped by Lady Lucas. “Have you had a letter from Charlotte, Eliza? She has sent you an express. The doctor ordered her to bed for some weeks for fear of losing the child. She is bitterly disappointed not to be able to come to you, but it may be some time before she can travel. Mr. Collins will wait and accompany her.” Lady Lucas certainly did not appear to be measuring up for new carpets and draperies, as Mrs. Bennet would once have predicted. She took Elizabeth’s hand in hers. “Your burdens may be heavy, Eliza, as you are the eldest daughter at home now. Please call upon me if you need anything at all.” Her eyes filled, and she held her handkerchief to her face. “I never wanted to see this day, indeed I did not.”