Trapped With the Most Vexing Man in the World (Pride and Prejudice Happily Ever Afters)

Chapter One

Jane is well. Jane is well. Jane is well.

That was the mantra that Elizabeth kept repeating to herself as she made her way slowly down the wide staircase at Netherfield.

The sweeping oak steps, with a bannister polished to a mirror shine, opened up into a large hall whose elegant proportions had been undermined by a range of garish hangings and statues in the Greek style.

Miss Bingley—the current mistress of the house—felt that it reflected everything fashionable and elegant.

Elizabeth felt it was like living in a theatre set for a poorly written melodrama.

Every moment she expected a damsel to swoon from behind a marble goddess or a gallant hero to leap from behind a silk screen.

She sighed, the exuberant "interior decorations" meant she could not escape from Miss Bingley’s influence in any part of the house, and even now she could hear her piercing tones drifting from the parlour.

But now, after three weeks under the same roof as the occupants of the estate, it was all she could do not to retreat to her room and scream into a pillow.

Mr Bingley was everything amiable and, to all appearances, deeply devoted to her sister.

But his sunny personality could not disguise the deficiencies of its other occupants.

His sister Miss Bingley, aside from her appalling taste in decor, was shrill and grasping.

Her sister Louisa and her husband Mr Hurst were idle, gluttonous and casually cruel to the servants.

And Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley’s friend and guest, was the most aggravating man she had ever had the misfortune to sit across a dining table from.

He was haughty, stubborn and persisted in picking apart her every utterance and action for flaws.

He stared constantly, as if assessing her for faults and made it perfectly clear that she was not what a young lady ought to be.

The previous day they had sat in the library together for half an hour and he had not uttered a single word, only swept his eyes across her with disdain.

Simply being near him made her feel hot and itchy, as if she was allergic to his very presence.

But now, Jane, dear, dear Jane, was so much better and she hoped that they would be removed from the house in a matter of days.

Knowing she could avoid it no longer, Elizabeth pushed open the door to the parlour (decorated in a shade of green she could only describe as bile) and straightened her spine.

The occupants all turned to look at her and she dipped a shallow curtsey and uttered a small "Good evening," before retrieving a book from a pile on the side table.

"Miss Eliza," said Miss Bingley in the manner of a cat that had trapped a mouse and was anticipating the pleasure of torturing it. "You look so divinely… rustic. What a charming gown. Is it not a charming gown, Louisa?"

Mrs Hurst laughed, a sound that had an unfortunate resemblance to a braying donkey and, in doing so, woke her husband who had been reclined, gently snoring—a thin line of a spittle reaching down to his waistcoat.

"Quite charming, Caroline," echoed Mrs Hurst. "It is surely such a singular design one would only find it in Meryton." With that she let out another bray, clearly pleased with her own jest.

Elizabeth simply nodded and settled down on a sofa with her book, although she had not so much as glanced at the title. She breathed slowly through her nose and counted to ten. Mr Bingley bounded across the room to sit by her, and she favoured him with a genuine smile.

"Miss Elizabeth," he said as he folded his long legs and dropped down beside her. "How is your sister? I hope she is feeling better and has everything she needs? Anything she wants—anything at all—you need but ask. There is nothing I would not do to see to Miss Bennet’s comfort."

"I thank you, sir," said Elizabeth. "But Jane is feeling much better. I am hoping she will be able to join us for dinner tomorrow and that we shall not trespass on your kind hospitality much longer."

"Why I do not know what we shall do without you," sneered Miss Bingley from across the room. "You have quite become part of the furniture."

There was another braying laugh from Mrs Hurst and a surprised snort from Mr Hurst as he was again shocked into consciousness.

Mr Bingley coloured faintly but made no response to the unkind behaviour of his family.

"I am very glad," he said, bringing his hands down on his knees with enthusiasm before jumping up again, "very glad indeed that she is well.

But there is no rush at all to depart. The weather is, in fact, looking very changeable and I would not like her to sacrifice her health by travelling in the damp. "

As he strode over to the window to examine current meteorological conditions, Elizabeth hoped that the portion of the evening that would see her under scrutiny had come to an end.

But as she raised her eyes from the carpet she noticed that Mr Darcy was once again staring at her.

At this point, she was surprised that the man had not bored a hole clean through her head.

She was in no mood for his disapproval so instead of looking away as she had often done in recent days, she stared straight back at him, a look of challenge in her eyes.

He blinked twice, seeming shocked that she would return his gaze and then—to her horror— walked over to the settee and took up Mr Bingley’s unoccupied seat.

Mr Darcy looked incredibly uncomfortable on the small, elaborately carved settee which was upholstered in a pattern of frolicking nymphs and it took him a moment to regain his normal stiff bearing. "Miss Elizabeth," he said, "I did not know you had a passion for all things horticultural."

His words were so unexpected that for a moment she just looked at him.

He was pressing his lips together tightly and there were spots of colour high on his cheekbones.

If the man disliked her so much why did he insist on seeking her out?

Now he was talking nonsense to boot. He motioned with a stiff jerk of his head to her book. "It seems an odd topic for a lady."

She looked down and realised she was holding a copy of The Complete Gardener.

She had picked it up blindly as she entered the room, feeling so uncomfortable in the company that she had not so much glanced at the title.

"A lady’s interests may be wide and varied, Mr Darcy," she said, unwilling to give the man a single inch.

"So I see," he frowned.

Miss Bingley again spoke from across the room. Something that seemed less than elegant behaviour to Elizabeth. "Miss Eliza is sooo fond of the outdoors," she purred to Mr Darcy. "It’s little wonder she enjoys scrabbling around in the dirt."

"Caroline!" said Bingley, clearly this comment had crossed some invisible line. She simply smiled sweetly at him and turned her attention back to Mr Darcy.

"That it is unusual does not make it unworthy," said Mr Darcy quietly. "It is perhaps a little out of the ordinary way, but my mother was inordinately fond of her rose garden."

Elizabeth studied his face with interest. Was Mr Darcy agreeing with her?

Or at least not actively disagreeing with her?

It was little matter that she had no particular fondness for gardening, this was the first time he had commented something vaguely positive in relation to her thoughts or actions and she wondered whether a pig might fly across the room at any moment.

"Though a lady would never do the actual planting and such," he mused.

There it was. "I think, sir, that your definition of a lady is very narrow. It is not only fine gowns and accomplishments that determine a gently bred woman, but the contents of her character. And I hardly think some light gardening is cause for panic as regards a woman’s station in life. You are very strict on my sex."

"I was just thinking that my sister would never…" he said, looking slightly panicked.

"You are quite right, Mr Darcy, " said Miss Bingley who was now moving across the room in a stilted manner that Elizabeth suspected she believed showed off her figure to most advantage. In reality, it made her look a little like a demented chicken.

"Your sister is all things ladylike and she would never engage in such pursuits.

Why, I was telling Louisa just yesterday about her beautiful playing and embroidery.

She is a paragon of her sex. Indeed, a shining example to every young lady of the ton.

" She looked to Mr Darcy expectantly. But he simply sighed and returned to his place at the mantelpiece looking pointedly at nothing at all.

Miss Bingley, now addressing the empty space on the settee, gave a tinkling but uncomfortable laugh and moved to her sister’s side.

Well, at least he is disagreeable to everyone equally, thought Elizabeth.

Even if I believe Miss Bingley deserves his ire more than I.

Just a few more days, she thought, as the conversation in the room resumed around her and she settled down to read about the proper way to propagate petunias.