A Sister's Fault: A Season of Misunderstanding, #1

By Meg Osborne

Jane Bennet is determined to win Mr Bingley's heart, even if that means feigning illness to stay longer under his roof and in his affections. Her plan is working - until her sister arrives, bedraggled and covered in mud, ready to spoil everything she is working for!

 

Witnessing Elizabeth's devotion to her sister, before falling ill herself, Fitzwilliam Darcy finds himself rapidly developing an affection for the young woman he scorned at the Meryton Assembly. When he overhears a conversation that suggests the illness that kept both ladies at Netherfield was a lie, he realises his first assessment was correct. Elizabeth Bennet and her sister are manipulating their way into marriage, and he is determined to stop them.

 

A Sister's Fault is book one in the Season of Misunderstanding series of Pride and Prejudice variation novellas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meg Osborne
• Release date: Feb 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386436485

Meg Osborne

Meg Osborne is an avid reader, tea drinker and unrepentant history nerd.  She writes sweet historical romance stories and Jane Austen fanfiction, and can usually be found knitting, dreaming up new stories, or adding more books to her tbr list than she'll get through in a lifetime.

Book preview

Chapter One

Rain pelted the window of her room at Netherfield Park and Jane Bennet felt a tiny inward thrill at her good fortune. She could not have planned things better herself and must remember to thank Mama when next they met for unwittingly providing her with the cause of her illness.

Footsteps in the corridor disturbed her peace, and she hurried back to bed, pulling the sheets up to her chin just as she heard a light knock at the heavy oak door.

Miss Bennet? Caroline Bingley’s was softer than usual, but still held an undeniable trace of irritation. Jane?

Yes?

My brother asked me to check on you. You must not think of returning home today, for the rain persists with such ferocity it would make the journey unwise, even if you were not feeling a little delicate. Please do not worry about anything, but rest. You may stay here as long as you need.

Jane murmured her thanks and held her breath as she listened to Caroline’s footsteps retreating back down the hallway. She was not quite so thrilled at Jane’s staying at Netherfield, Jane thought, but that did not matter. Mr Bingley had made her welcome and this was his house, so his sister must do his bidding. She recalled the very moment she had chosen to swoon at the table, and it had been in part a response to Caroline’s sniping. Were they alone, she might have offered a sharp rebuttal, for having grown up with four sisters Jane was certainly capable of holding her own in any argument. But Mr Bingley and - worse - Mr Darcy were present at the table too, along with Mr and Mrs Hurst, and to return insult for insult would be to undermine the very picture of gentleness Jane Bennet had been cultivating in the presence of her neighbours. Mr Bingley might be persuaded to ignore the occasional flash of meanness in an otherwise elegant picture, for he was naturally generous, but Mr Darcy would notice the incongruity in a moment. Any reply to Caroline’s insinuating words was therefore impossible. Jane had settled on an alternative course of action, lifted a hand to her temple and moaned, and before she could say another word had been spirited upstairs to rest. Mr Bingley declared he thought it entirely likely that she must have caught a cold from travelling all this way in such dire weather.

Jane’s stomach grumbled loudly and for a moment she feared she truly was taken ill, but then she recalled that, no, it was merely hunger. She had eaten only a little before her performance at the table had forced her from it, and now, sent to rest, she was unlikely to be brought even a cup of tea for some hours yet. She laid a hand over her stomach until the hunger passed and reminded herself that this was all to the good. If she felt weak from lack of food then her feigned sickness would be all the more convincing.

And it is not a lie, she told herself. Not really. She summoned a sneeze and shivered. Yes, now that she thought about it, she wondered if she was, in fact, feeling really very unwell.

She rolled over onto her back in the bed, blinking up at the high ceiling, and let out a breath. She needn’t feel guilty about this slight deception, not when it had a good end in mind. Mr Bingley liked her, she thought, but he did not love her yet. With the additional time in her company afforded by this short stay, who knew how rapidly his feelings might develop?

This was enough to bring a smile to her features, and shift any lingering guilt she felt at deceiving her hosts and her family. They would not be too concerned, surely? They would receive word from Mr Bingley and feel sympathy, but as far as they knew Jane only suffered a cold, which was hardly cause for concern. She might write herself, and thus reassure them that she was not so very unwell. And it would all be worth it when she returned to Longbourn certain of Mr Bingley’s affections. Mama would approve, as well as Lydia and Kitty. Jane’s smile faltered. Lizzy would not, of course, and neither would Mary, but that could not be helped, and they need not know the truth of the matter. Why a cold might be got over quite quickly and completely. It was the time the ruse had bought her, under Mr Bingley’s own roof, that had made it necessary.

Time ticked by slowly, and after what felt like hours, Jane rolled to sit upright, before peering out of the window. The rain continued in rods, obscuring any other view. She sighed, and shuffled once more to her feet, sliding cautiously towards the door. She opened it a crack, listening for any sign that she would be observed out of bed, and, discerning none, pulled open the door and tiptoed out into the corridor.

...of course, it is a shame!

Caroline Bingley’s voice carried easily, for she made no attempt to temper it, evidently believing Jane to be asleep and unable to hear her. Jane frowned, leaning over the bannister and listening, for if she was being discussed she wished to know what was being said.

A shame? My dear Caroline, it is a tragedy! Poor Miss Bennet. Do you know, I really wonder if we ought not to send for a doctor right away. Darcy, what do you think?

Jane held her breath. If there was any person present at the table that she felt unlikely of convincing of her sudden bout of ill-health it was Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. He was clever, she thought, and canny, but even he could not be so cruel as to think her a liar.

It seems a little rash to send for him right away.

Mr Darcy’s voice was low, and Jane had to strain to hear it. How did that gentleman manage to frown with such intensity that it could even be heard in his words?

Miss Bennet may rally after a few hours’ rest and quiet. Let us see how she fares in the morning, and we shall know, then, whether she is able to return home or not. I remain convinced it is nought but a trifling cold and will be easily remedied by morning. He paused. Did you send a tray up?

Jane hurriedly retraced her steps, closing the door silently behind her and returning to bed.

Nought but a trifling cold? And was Mr Darcy now a medical man as well? Were there no limits to his talents?

Jane’s face was heated, and she reached her hand up to her forehead, startled by its temperature. Surely this could not be just anger at hearing herself thus discussed? She was unwell after all, giving truth to her lie!

Hot tears sprung into the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away angrily.

You will see, Mr Darcy, how easily remedied my illness is. I do not believe there is an ounce of compassion in you. How fortunate for me, then, that dear Mr Bingley is six times the gentleman you are, however wealthy you may be.

I FIND MYSELF VERY unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not hear of my returning home ‘til I am better...

Elizabeth Bennet read the note from her sister through twice in quick succession, but some notion of its contents must have shown in her face, because her father inquired almost immediately thereafter.

It is not bad news, I hope, Lizzy?

Yes, do tell us what Jane says, Lizzy, and do not keep her letter to yourself as if we all were not fit to hear from her. Mrs Bennet bristled at it being Lizzy, and not she, to whom her eldest daughter wrote.

Jane is ill, Lizzy blurted, passing the note to her father, who held it aloft, safe from his wife’s grasping hands, reading it through and then responding in his brisk, sensible manner.

Well, well. Poor Jane! To have been struck down in the company of friends. And to think! All on account of her being out of doors in such bad weather. He eyed Mrs Bennet severely, but she felt no guilt, only despair at not having been permitted to read Jane’s letter for herself as if she might deduce from her style of penmanship whether there was truly any danger.

I think I might be allowed to read the note, now that half the table are freely discussing its contents and I - Jane’s own mother! - am left in ignorance.

Lifting his eyebrows, Mr Bennet wordlessly handed over the short missive and turned to Lizzy.

Do not fret! It sounds as if Jane will be receiving the very best of care. You must not fault Mr Bingley’s intent - see, he has even promised to send for a doctor. I do not think, were she under our own roof, Jane would have such a deal of care lavished upon her.

Lizzy drew her lips into a tight smile. It was true, of course, for doctors were an expense only to be afforded in extreme cases, and if Jane was well enough to hold a pen, to think clearly enough to write a note, she could not be so very sick. But still, she was amongst strangers! Very nice strangers, Lizzy was sure, but strangers nonetheless. She turned her options over in her mind before arriving, swiftly and resolutely, at a decision.

I will go to her. She stood, feeling that the decision, having been made, must be acted on immediately.

Now?

Go to her?

Lizzy, you can’t be serious! This was Lydia, who had at last been afforded the opportunity to glance over Jane’s note and, finding it containing nothing interesting by way of gossip or scandal, passed it on down the table to Mary.

Why not? Lizzy began thinking of all the things she would need to take with her to ensure the effective nursing of her sister, were she to be found at death’s own door. "It is not raining any more. And I am of a much stronger constitution than Jane anyway. I dare say were I to walk in the rain I should not fall ill - but as you see it is not raining, and so I can think of no reason for my not attending to my sister’s bedside."

But - but it is so muddy! Kitty exclaimed, turning in horror from the window to Elizabeth and back again. Your dress will be ruined!

I have other dresses, Elizabeth remarked, lightly.

Oh, indeed! Mrs Bennet threw up her hands. And what will Mr Bingley think of you turning up on their doorstep thick with mud and wailing to see your sister? What will Mr Darcy think?

Lizzy was reminded of her first meeting with Mr Darcy, the opinion he had shared of her that she had clearly not been intended to know, and yet had over-heard all the same. She is not handsome enough to tempt me. It was enough to provoke the slightest of grim smiles, as she laughed off her mother’s concerns.

I do not suppose it will endear me to him, Mama, but as Mr Darcy has made no secret of his disdain for me thus far I do not think that is anything to consider! Mr Bingley will, I am sure, understand my concern, for he seems to be an amiable, pleasant gentleman and in any case - She paused for breath. I do not suppose I care what they think, no, nor Miss Bingley either. Let her be as scathing as she likes, for my only concern is for Jane and that I might see for myself that she is alright. She turned to her father, knowing that Mr Bennet would be won by a simple petition where her mother might not. You will not forbid it, Papa? I may go, mayn’t I, and nurse Jane myself?

Mr Bennet smiled, touched by this display of sisterly affection.

Of course you may, he said, softly. "In any case, I do not suppose myself capable of stopping

Reviews for A Sister's Fault

[esther madamidola · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Good story. It’s a different plot. Looking forward to the continuation.