To Mend Mr Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation: Meetings and Misunderstandings, #3

By Meg Osborne

 

With his family fractured, Fitzwilliam Darcy does not know where to turn. Can he learn to trust his heart, even if it means overcoming his own stubborn opinions?

If Elizabeth Bennet's happiness is ruined - perhaps forever - she is determined to work a happier ending for her sisters. Can a gathering at Pemberley resolve all of their problems, or will it merely make everything worse?

 

To Mend Mr Darcy is the final book in Meetings and Misunderstandings, a series variation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meg Osborne
• Release date: Jul 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201458348

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

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam leaned back in a comfortable, high-backed chair in his cousin’s elegantly appointed Pemberley study and sighed. The exhaustion of his solitary journey north had been put out of his mind momentarily, arriving as he did only a short time before disaster struck, but now, left alone and waiting for news, he felt tiredness sweep back over him. His eyes fluttered closed and he let them, surrendering to rest if not sleep for a few minutes until his cousin returned and commanded his attention once again.

I pray poor Georgiana is not badly hurt, he thought, recalling the pinched, pale expression on his previously sunny cousin’s face as she was helped into bed by servants. There had been some accident, that was all Richard had gleaned. She had fallen from her horse. His eyes flew open and he gripped the arm of his chair tightly. He had known men die of little more than a fall from a horse. Georgiana will not die. He shook his head at his own foolishness. Georgiana would likely not need more than a few days in bed to be herself once more.

Yet, here, he stopped himself. Which Georgiana was herself these days? She seemed changed at some deep and unreachable level since her doomed romance with George Wickham. Richard straightened in his seat, his urge to rest put to flight at the mere memory of the man who had made it his mission in life to ruin his cousins’ health and happiness. Both cousins, he thought, his scowl darkening as he recalled the numerous times Darcy had been forced to make good on Wickham’s mistakes. Richard fancied that Wickham had acted as bad as he did simply because he knew Darcy would be around to clear up his messes.

Not any more, he thought, grimly. Wickham’s fatal mistake had been in targeting Georgiana and after securing her safety and Wickham’s secrecy - at great personal cost - Richard knew Darcy would never again bring himself to bother with the man. He might be on fire and Darcy would not even stop to admire the blaze. This was an amusing thought and Richard’s lips curved upwards in a grim smile that dissipated only at the sound of sharp footsteps coming down the hallway. He launched himself upwards, finding his feet and standing to a weary kind of attention just in time for the door to the study to swing open and Darcy himself to stride in.

At ease, Colonel, he said, with a surprised frown in Richard’s direction. You are not in the regiment at present.

Richard laughed and sat, stretching out his long legs once more and folding his arms. He grew serious again at once.

How is Georgiana? He tried to read more truth from Darcy’s body language than was forthcoming in words. What did the doctor say?

Nothing of great use. Darcy took the empty chair opposite Richard and nudged it round to face his cousin before sinking into it. He is still with her, giving directions to the servants. He cannot say very much at present but suggests she stays in bed and rests. He will return tomorrow, unless she worsens before then, in which instance we are to send for him at once.

That is good news, surely? Richard ventured, wondering why this report should cause his cousin to scowl so very fiercely. A night’s rest and Georgiana will rally and be herself once more. The phrase be herself tripped him a second time and he swallowed his uncertainty. Just because Georgiana had grown weary of writing him the funny, cheerful letters that had once been her regular occupation was not necessarily indicative of a great shaking of her character. Perhaps it is merely bitterness on my part that she finds better things to occupy her time than writing to her old military cousin. His heart lifted. Yes, this was surely it. The fault was in his perception, not in his cousin’s spirit.

There is some question... Darcy’s frown deepened so that it looked almost painful. She does not seem quite able to move her legs as she should. Darcy looked up at Richard immediately, attempting to smile in a manner he evidently thought would bring reassurance but it only made Richard’s heart sink further. The doctor says it is likely just bruising and will mend itself in time. He cannot say for certain, though.

You think - she may be lame? Richard shook his head, refusing to accept such a thought. It was too cruel. Georgiana was yet young and lively. Her pretty feet loved to dance. The thought that one unhappy fall could take all that away from her was beyond imagining. Surely not! The accident could not be so bad, surely.

I don’t know, Darcy confided, hoarsely. I was not there when it happened, I only came upon them afterwards, and -

Then you must ask Mrs Darcy, Richard said, wondering why it was Darcy had not done just that. The two were together, were not they? Surely she will be able to offer any information required. She is with Georgiana now, I suppose? Offering what assistance she may to the doctor?

Again Darcy hesitated over what to say. Richard was mystified. It seemed to him a perfectly natural suggestion that the new Mrs Darcy would be at the bedside of her sister-in-law at this hour of trial.

In truth, I do not know where my wife is. Darcy’s voice was so quiet, his words so brisk that Richard might have missed them, had he not been regarding his cousin with care. And Georgiana would not have her with her, even if I did. He pursed his lips as if he struggled to find the right words to use. The two are not...close.

Richard was bewildered. He could not imagine a woman alive who would not immediately adore Georgiana Darcy. And, true, he had met Elizabeth for only the briefest of moments but she had not struck him as a cruel or a careless young woman. Indeed it seemed to me rather that she cared too much! Pale and drawn she had seemed to him, her dark eyes swimming with tears and entirely oblivious to the scrapes, scratches and muddy stains she had won while helping Georgiana into Darcy’s capable arms.

Darcy looked up at him at last, nodding his head slightly as if he had decided that his cousin could be trusted with the truth. At last, he spoke it, the words calm, quiet, and devoid of any hope they might be a mistake.

Georgiana claims her fall was not an accident at all, but engineered. She says Lizzy is to blame for her injury and does not wish to see her ever again.

ELIZABETH DARCY GLANCED fitfully at the book she held open in her lap. When she had first come to her library that afternoon it had been with the intent to read.

No, it had been with the intent to hide.

Closing the book with a thump, she leaned back in her chair and let out a long, low sigh. She had wanted to be of help. Truly, she had tried to be! But with Georgiana’s pointed refusal to see her and Darcy’s silence Lizzy had seen her opportunity when the doctor arrived and slipped away to find some other, useful occupation.

And finding none, I sought the sanctuary of my very own paradise! The word did not land as it ought. Paradise had been her first thought when Darcy had shown her this room. A small study, a secondary library - Pemberley was grand enough to house two! - this was to be her own personal space in the grand estate that had become her home. She had been in raptures over the thought of it. A room of her own! And one lined with bookshelves filled with titles she had not read, and several that she had. She laid a hand affectionately over the front cover of the volume she had taken down that afternoon, hoping to find comfort or distraction in its familiar pages. She had found nothing, for her eyes barely graced the words it contained, let alone managed to make any sense of them. Her mind had strayed consistently back to Georgiana and she found herself playing and replaying their disastrous outing over and over in her mind.

They had gone riding. It had been Darcy’s idea, of course. Long before they were married he had spoken of his plan to take Elizabeth out on horseback. She had been enthusiastic when the plan was first suggested, for she was fond of riding and had not been afforded the chance to do it for some time. At last, arriving at home in Derbyshire, the idea had resurfaced and instead of Caroline Bingley, she had the elegant Georgiana Darcy for a companion.

I almost wish it had been Caroline! Lizzy drew in a sharp breath. Not that she would wish misfortune on Caroline Darcy. That young lady was suffering a misfortune of her own, for it had been her bout of ill-health that had removed the Bingleys to Bath, which circumstance, Lizzy knew, grieved her sister Jane at home in Hertfordshire. Just then, Elizabeth felt a wave of loneliness sweep over her. Oh, what she would not give to have her sister with her now!

I have a sister with me, she reminded herself, wondering what had become of Lydia. A grim smile snaked its way onto Lizzy’s face, as she was forced to reflect on the direness of her situation that she even longed for counsel from her youngest and flightiest, sister. Being together at Pemberley had done wonders in overcoming their usual differences, she thought, and Lydia had begun to become a true friend. But that does not mean I can confide in her the way I would do with Jane. She bit her lip. Even Jane did not know the secret truth that Lizzy had hidden, almost from herself. They knew what she had told them: that she and Mr Darcy had agreed to marry as friends, nothing more. It was true, after a fashion, and yet there was so much more than that! I did not know, when I accepted his offer, that I would so soon grow to love him - or that I could love him! She had suspected there might be some feelings of admiration or affection, for she was not so out of touch with her own heart that she did not recognise these feelings when they first emerged. But since their wedding, they had grown still further. She had seen Mr Darcy in his own world, master of Pemberley, and she had realised, quite surprisingly, that she loved him. Not that that would help her now. He did not love her. He would not.

If only Georgiana had not been hurt! This latest development was only the culmination of events since Elizabeth had arrived at Pemberley. Georgiana had not welcomed Lizzy as a sister or as her brother’s wife. She had barely tolerated her, making her dislike plain to all and none more so than Elizabeth. Ordinarily, Lizzy found it so easy to make friends that the impossibility of this friendship was hard to bear. The inclusion of Georgiana on their ride that morning had, Lizzy thought, been a chance to finally broach whatever barrier lay between them and become friends.

Georgiana’s skill as a horsewoman far outstripped her own and Lizzy had struggled to keep pace with her, even more so as the road grew unsteady beneath them. It was then that disaster struck and poor Georgiana had been thrown from her horse. Thrown, or slipped, the result had been the same. Lizzy had not seen the actual impact but she had certainly witnessed its aftermath. Tears had streamed down Georgiana’s face and she had not hidden the pain she felt as Darcy - appearing from behind them like a merciful spirit - lifted her in his arms. Lizzy closed her eyes, recalling the anguished, bitter cry that Georgiana had directed at her.

It is all her fault!

And had it been? The idea of a horse ride, whilst not Lizzy’s own suggestion had been undertaken on her behalf. Perhaps, eager as she had been to impress Georgiana, the younger lady had been equally eager to impress her, exhibiting the very best of her prowess as a horsewoman and - perhaps - taking risks she ought not to have taken. That she had come to injury might well be Lizzy’s fault.

The sound of sharp footsteps coming along the corridor caught Lizzy’s ear and she sat up, brushing at the few tears she, herself, had shed in worry for Georgiana and self-pity for the mess of things she now found herself in the midst of. She brightened, leaping out of her chair and crossing the small library in a skip. She recognised those footsteps, surprised that, already, they were familiar to her.

Darcy?

She pulled open the door but alas! She was too late and saw only her husband’s back as he continued away from her, intent on his study, which door he pulled open and disappeared behind.

Elizabeth’s heart sank and she closed the door, leaning back against it and thinking that this room, which had been for her a sanctuary, had become a prison. She dared not step out from within it, not until she knew Georgiana’s fate.

Not only that but until I know my husband’s opinion. She shuddered to recall that dark look Darcy had shot her upon their chaotic return to the house with the injured Georgiana. He looked at her as if he did not know her, as if he believed Georgiana’s feverish accusations and laid the blame for her condition firmly on Elizabeth’s shoulders.

If he ever did love me, or if he might have grown to, he certainly does not now. Lizzy drew in a shaky breath. And perhaps he never shall.

Chapter Two

The Pemberley dining room, whilst it could perhaps