You Willfully Misunderstand Me (Pride and Prejudice Adventures)

CHAPTER 1

“There is I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil — a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”

“And your defect [Mr. Darcy] is a propensity to hate everybody.”

“And yours, [Miss Bennet]” he replied with a smile, “is willfully to misunderstand them.”

—Jane Austen

Longbourn was unusually quiet for an August morning.

Mrs. Bennet had gone with Kitty to Meryton in hopes of learning the latest news from the regiment, and Lydia had accompanied them with great enthusiasm, Jane was occupied with Mrs. Hill addressing a household matter, and Mr. Bennet had retired to his library.

Thus, Elizabeth found herself in possession of the family parlour, a book, and the rare luxury of some much desired uninterrupted solitude.

Unfortunately, solitude had lately become less agreeable than it once had been, as whenever her thoughts were left to themselves, they invariably wandered to Kent the quiet parsonage at Hunsford, where one extraordinary evening had shaken her entire being.

Mr. Darcy's proposal had been as astonishing as it had been offensive. She had rejected him with every resentment his manner had inspired, and had done so without the slightest hesitation.

His letter, however...Elizabeth closed the book resting upon her lap.

She had read those closely written pages often enough that portions had nearly committed themselves to memory.

However unwilling she had been to credit his account at first, subsequent reflection had forced her to acknowledge uncomfortable truths.

Wickham had not been the injured innocent she had imagined, nor had Mr. Darcy been guilty of every charge laid against him.

The discovery mortified her still. To have judged so confidently, and so wrongly, was no pleasant lesson.

"No," she murmured to herself. "I was determined to dislike him, and I succeeded all too well."

She rose and crossed to the open window. The gardens glowed with spring colour, while beyond them the fields rolled peacefully toward Meryton. Nothing in the familiar landscape suggested that anything remarkable might occur before the day was done.

One of their maids, Sally, knocked on the ajar door before opening it fully, "Excuse me; a letter for you, Miss Elizabeth."

"Thank you, Sally,” Elizabeth said, accepting the envelope, expecting to find a letter from her aunt or perhaps dear friend Charlotte.

Upon looking at the handwriting, however, Elizabeth was surprised to see a script familiar to her.

She smiled, "I wonder what could have occasioned this?"

Breaking the seal, she unfolded several neatly written pages. The letter was warm, lively, and written with such ease that she could almost imagine hearing the writer's voice. It was from none other than Anne de Bourgh.

Elizabeth's first letter from Anne had arrived scarcely a fortnight after her return from Kent.

It had surprised her exceedingly, for during her stay at Rosings they had exchanged little more than a handful of words.

Yet the letter itself was thoughtful, intelligent, and marked by a warmth that Anne's habitual reserve had never permitted her to display in person.

Elizabeth concluded that Miss de Bourgh possessed far greater ease with a pen than in conversation, and, encouraged by the sincerity of her sentiments, readily replied.

To her surprise and pleasure, another letter soon followed, then another, until what had begun as an unexpected courtesy gradually settled into a regular correspondence that continued into the summer.

Anne, however, spoke of the island with great affection, describing its rugged coastline, invigorating sea air, winding glens, and the remarkable hospitality of its inhabitants.

Her admiration for the landscape and its people surprised Elizabeth, who had never imagined such a place to be the setting for a prolonged residence.

Yet even more surprising was the thought that Lady Catherine had permitted such a journey at all.

Elizabeth could scarcely reconcile the strictness of Anne's mother with the freedom required for travel to so remote a place.

That Lady Catherine would allow her daughter to leave familiar surroundings and reside upon an island across the sea seemed, in itself, a matter worthy of consideration.

This supposition, however, was soon overturned by the next lines of Anne's letter.

Elizabeth's surprise at the idea of the Isle of Man as a residence was only compounded when she discovered that Lady Catherine herself was present upon the island.

The mystery of Anne's journey was thus altered.

It was not that Lady Catherine had permitted her daughter to venture so far from home unattended, but that she had undertaken the journey alongside her.

Even so, Elizabeth found the circumstance no less remarkable.

She knew Lady Catherine too well to imagine that such a decision had been made lightly.

A woman so devoted to propriety, tradition, and the careful management of her family's affairs would not ordinarily exchange the comforts of Rosings for the remoteness of an island across the sea without some compelling reason.

That she had willingly traveled to the Isle of Man, Elizabeth thought, suggested there was more behind their travels there than perhaps Anne let on.

Still, Anne’s writing served only as an introduction to the true purpose of Anne's correspondence. The pleasant descriptions of the Isle of Man and its people were a prelude to a matter of far greater consequence, one that Elizabeth had neither anticipated nor prepared herself to receive.

She read, ‘Would you, Miss Bennet, do me the great kindness of paying me a visit?’

Elizabeth reread the line thrice. Had Anne just invited me to visit her on the Isle of Man?

The season, Anne had assured Elizabeth, was particularly delightful.

Packet boats crossed regularly from Liverpool, accommodations would already be prepared, and she promised every comfort if Elizabeth could spare a few weeks.

Elizabeth read the invitation once more, lowering the pages, and said, "The Isle of Man?"

She had never expected to visit the island, nor had she given it much thought beyond vague recollections from a British isles geography book she had skimmed over from her father’s library.

Yet the descriptions awakened her curiosity.

Dramatic cliffs overlooking the Irish Sea, ancient castles, quiet fishing villages, and miles of open country promised precisely the sort of scenery she most enjoyed.

Jane entered just then and immediately noticed the letter, "Oh, Lizzy, have you heard from our aunt Gardiner?”

“No, I have not,” Elizabeth handed Jane the letter.

Jane read with growing pleasure, "What a thoughtful invitation, Lizzy! Anne seems genuinely anxious for your company."

Elizabeth wore a slight frown, "So it appears."

Jane turned from the letter to look at Elizabeth, noticing the hesitancy written on her lips, "And will you accept?"

Elizabeth hesitated. Only four months had passed since her return from Kent, but they had seemed considerably longer.

Longbourn, though always dear to her, suddenly felt very small, as every lane reminded her of conversations she wished to forget.

She thought, perhaps a change of scene might be exactly what I need.

"I confess," she said slowly, "the prospect is exceedingly tempting.

Though I can hardly pretend that Anne and I formed any great intimacy while I was in Kent.

Indeed, I scarcely spoke with her beyond the ordinary courtesies one owes to a relation of a gentleman's household. We have been writing letters frequently, but I’m not sure.

To arrive now as a guest in her home, particularly in so distant a place, may prove rather awkward. "

Jane smiled, her expression softened by the affection she always carried for her sister.

"Lizzy, you have in you the very talent for pulling people into conversation," she added, "Anne has written to you herself, has she not?

She would hardly have extended such an invitation if she did not wish for your company. "

Her eldest sister returned the letter to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth in turn folded the letter thoughtfully in her hands. "Perhaps you are right. It is only that I wonder what she thinks of me. We exchanged so few words in Kent that I cannot imagine she considers me a close acquaintance."

"I think Anne is merely shy," Jane replied gently.

"Perhaps your letter gave her a means of expressing what she might otherwise have struggled to say.

Some people are not easily drawn into conversation, but that does not mean they do not value the friendships offered to them.

She may have been waiting for a reason to renew your acquaintance, and this letter has provided precisely that opportunity. "

Jane looked again at the invitation with quiet amusement.

"And perhaps she knows you better than you imagine.

Of all the ladies she has met, she may believe you the one most likely to appreciate such a place as the Isle of Man.

You have always preferred a thoughtful walk, and perhaps Anne thought such things would appeal to you. "

Just as Elizabeth was about to respond, they sisters were interrupted by Mrs. Bennet's cheerful voice sounded from the hall.

"Lizzy! Jane! You will never guess whom we have seen in Meryton!"

She entered in considerable excitement, followed by Kitty and Lydia, each speaking at once.

Elizabeth slipped the letter safely into her workbasket, knowing the invitation could wait until after her mother's latest intelligence had been delivered.

What Elizabeth did not know that, at that very moment, another letter, written in a different hand and bearing a different purpose, had already set events in motion that neither she nor any member of her family could possibly foresee.

Nevertheless, before many days had passed, Elizabeth Bennet would leave England believing herself expected by her friend, Anne de Bourgh.