Together in Perfect Felicity Read online

  Together in Perfect Felicity

  A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  P. O. Dixon

  Contents

  Introduction

  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 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Featured Book Excerpt

  Your Free Book Offer

  Parting Thoughts

  Bonus Offer

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by P. O. Dixon

  Introduction

  “Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance.” –Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

  Miss Elizabeth Bennet believes the state of matrimony is not something to be entered into lightly. She is determined to do anything rather than marry without affection. On the other hand, indulging her cousin’s fanciful marital scheme is harmless enough. What does she have to lose? Other than perhaps her heart?

  Fitzwilliam Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by Elizabeth. Owing to the inferiority of her circumstances in comparison to his own, he makes up his mind to admire her from afar.

  The mind, however, does not always rule, especially in the game of love. Will Darcy lose his heart to Elizabeth, and in so doing, end up winning hers?

  “Do anything rather than marry without affection.”

  Jane Austen

  Chapter 1

  In Want of Diversion

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that the topic of discussion among four unmarried young ladies who are gathered together in the same room and in want of diversion must invariably center on the prospects for marital felicity for each of them in their turn. Such was indeed the case in Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s bedroom at Longbourn manor that day.

  “I contend that happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance,” declared Charlotte Lucas, who was visiting from the neighboring village.

  “Spoken by the least likely of the four of us to reach the altar.”

  Elizabeth, the second eldest of five Bennet daughters, stared at her cousin in utter dismay on behalf of her intimate friend, Charlotte. Elizabeth’s junior by two years, Phoebe Phillips paid her no notice. Not that Elizabeth expected any real sort of regret on the young lady’s part. If ever one might be described as her mother’s daughter, unquestionably, it was Phoebe. Though closest in age to Elizabeth’s younger sister Mary and closest in terms of sensibility to Elizabeth’s two youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia, Phoebe much preferred the company of the two eldest Bennet sisters, Jane and Elizabeth.

  What with Phoebe being the only daughter of Mrs. Agatha Phillips, and Mrs. Phillips being the only sister of Mrs. Fanny Bennet, it was generally expected that the cousins would be the dearest of friends, even if the girls’ temperaments were as varying as day and night. To her credit, Phoebe was not quite so vulgar as her mother was thought to be. Elizabeth rather supposed it was merely a matter of time.

  Whereas the embarrassment of it all caused the eldest Bennet daughter’s angelic face to redden, the younger daughter’s astonishment was not so easily repressed.

  “Phoebe!” Elizabeth exclaimed with energy.

  “What did I say that is not true?”

  “It is not what you said so much as it is the manner in which you said it. You owe Charlotte an apology,” Elizabeth declared.

  A very plain-looking, intelligent woman and the oldest in the group by at least four years, Charlotte said, “Dearest Eliza, you need not censure your cousin on my behalf.”

  Phoebe smirked. “There, you see, Lizzy,” the young lady cried, “Charlotte knows the truth when she hears it. She is not at all offended.”

  “Heaven forbid,” replied Charlotte. “Were I to be affronted by any of the things you say, Phoebe, I might be as miserable as you are.”

  Pleased by her friend’s retort, even at her own relation’s expense, Elizabeth covered her mouth to mask her smile. She loved nothing more than laughing at the ridiculousness of others: a trait she inherited from her dear father, Mr. Thomas Bennet.

  Jane’s disposition demanded a more amicable resolution to the ebbing tension among their little group. “I believe no one is ever really too old to find happiness in marriage,” said she.

  “Says the second least likely person among us to find a husband.”

  “Phoebe!” Elizabeth exclaimed once more.

  “Although, I will allow that Jane is the only one of us who has ever come close to securing a marriage proposal. How many times have we heard my aunt Bennet boast of the young man at my uncle Gardiner’s home in town who was so much in love with her and the general belief that he would have made her an offer even though he did not?”

  “Lest you forget, Phoebe, Jane was only fifteen at the time. I recall Mrs. Bennet saying that likely was the reason,” Charlotte said.

  “Oh, but he wrote such pretty verses on her,” Phoebe waxed poetically. “Pray, whatever became of your young beau, Cousin Jane?”

  Elizabeth said, “Who really gives a care? Poetry or no poetry, the man is no doubt a fool.”

  Charlotte scoffed. “I wager all men are fools. How else might one explain the abundance of single young ladies in want of husbands among our general acquaintances?”

  “Owe it to our rather exacting standards,” Elizabeth promptly asserted. “That and the limited variety of single young men in this part of the country.”

  “Exacting? Pray what exactly is your opinion on the ideal husband, Lizzy?” Phoebe asked.

  “I should like to think the ideal husband is respectable and kind and one who honors his wife and protects his family.”

  “And handsome—”

  Her spirits rising to playfulness, Elizabeth said, “I see no reason why the ideal husband should not be handsome. I posit one might just as easily fall in love with a handsome man as one who is rather less pleasing to the eye. Handsome men deserve love too.”

  “Oh, Lizzy!” Jane said in response to her sister’s jest.

  “It is not as though you need ever concern yourself in that regard, Jane. You are far too beautiful to catch the eye of any man whose beauty does not equal yours.”

  “How a gentleman looks on the outside can mean nothing at all if he does not possess goodness within,” Jane said.

  “I could not agree more,” Charlotte began, “and as we all know how much Eliza enjoys professing opinions that are not always her own, she surely does not measure a man by his physical attributes either.”

  “Indeed,” Elizabeth said, reaching out to take her friend by the hand and giving it a gentle squeeze in solidarity. “You know me very well.” Releasing her friend’s hand, she continued, “But that is enough about me. What characteristics do you look for in a potential husband, dearest Charlotte?”

  Charlotte shrugged. “I always like to think of myself as being a very sensible woman. At seven and twenty, I have long given up the idea of meeting my very own charming prince. So long as I can marry a decent man and be the mistress of my own home, however large or small, I should have no cause to repine.”

  “La!” ex
claimed Phoebe. “Decent. Respectable. Handsome. If neither of you is willing to say what is the most important characteristic of the ideal husband, then I surely will.”

  “What else is there?” Jane asked.

  “Why the gentleman must be rich, of course!”

  “Surely you have heard it said that money does not buy happiness, Phoebe,” Elizabeth said.

  “I have heard it said time and time again, and I simply do not believe it. And on the oft chance it is true, what does it signify, especially since one might just as easily fall in love with a rich man as a poor one.”

  “Says the youngest of the four of us,” Elizabeth responded.

  “If by that you mean to say I am merely young and foolish, perhaps I am, but I shall not be deterred from my opinion. Besides, as Charlotte said, happiness in marriage is purely a matter of chance. I prefer to take my chances with a rich man.”

  “I wish you nothing but the best of luck,” Elizabeth said.

  “Laugh at me if you dare, Cousin Lizzy, but I seriously doubt there is one among us who would refuse the hand of a wealthy gentleman, regardless of his character.”

  Elizabeth did not mean to be cruel, but she could not help but laugh a little. She threw a quick glance to her right and then another to her left. “In spite of your strong resolve, your assertion is one that will no doubt go unproven. It is not as though there is an abundance of wealthy young men in want of wives in our midst.”

  Phoebe clutched a soft pillow to her bosom. “Surely you are aware that particular dilemma is soon to be resolved.”

  “Are you speaking of the imminent arrival of Mr. Charles Bingley—the young man who recently let Netherfield Park?” Jane inquired.

  “Indeed, I am. To be more precise, the young man of large fortune from the north of England. He is said to have five thousand pounds a year, and he is also said to be handsome, which must surely count for something with you, Lizzy. But wait until you hear the best part of it all. Mr. Bingley will be accompanied by a rather large party when he returns. He is single, after all, and where there is one single man there is bound to be another and another and another.”

  “What can the size of Mr. Bingley’s party have to do with any of us?” cried Jane.

  “The greater the number of single men in his party, the better are our chances of meeting our potential husbands among them,” Phoebe cried. She tilted her head in a moment of contemplation and then continued. “Oh! I have a brilliant idea. What say you, ladies, that we make a pact that the four of us will do everything in our power to find husbands during the course of the next twelve months?”

  “Even if what you propose were viable, marriage is a serious commitment. I do not know that I would be comfortable approaching such a consequential endeavor in such a frivolous—dare I say tactless—manner as you are suggesting.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Lizzy, it is not as though I have suggested a wager or anything of the sort. I am merely suggesting that we seize control of our own destinies. If not now, then when? None of us is getting any younger, and who is to say? One of us might very well succeed.

  “Think about it, Charlotte… Jane… Lizzy. What is there for any of us to lose?”

  Chapter 2

  In Due Time

  London, England - Darcy House, 1811

  “Brother, may I be allowed to travel with you to Hertfordshire? I promise you will scarcely be aware of my presence.”

  Fitzwilliam Darcy laid his newspaper aside, thus giving his younger sister his full attention. “Georgiana, you know how much it pains me to cause you displeasure, but in this case, I fear I have no other choice.”

  “What would be the harm in my joining you and the Bingleys? Are you concerned about my age? Do you still consider me too young to be out in society?”

  “You are far too young to be out in society. However, that fact has nothing to do with my belief that now is not the time for you to travel to Hertfordshire.”

  “You are unfair, Brother.”

  “Georgiana, you have never expressed an interest in traveling with me before. What is the reason for your sudden change of heart?”

  “Well, as you may or may not know, Miss Bingley and I have grown rather fond of each other of late, and she thinks this trip would provide the perfect excuse for me to get better acquainted with her brother.”

  Darcy drew a quick breath. “Does she now?”

  “You need not pretend the thought of an alliance between me and your friend, Mr. Bingley, has not crossed your mind. Do you deny it?”

  Frankly, Darcy had no wish to deny it. Neither did he wish to confirm it. His young sister was only six and ten—far too young to entertain thoughts of marriage. He held firmly to that view, despite having interceded on her behalf some time earlier to prevent her from eloping with the one man in the world whom Darcy thought of as his worst enemy: George Wickham.

  He knew how much the discovery that Wickham’s primary motive in the scheme was her dowry of thirty thousand pounds had pained his young sister. He even feared that suffering a broken heart owing to her disappointed hopes at such a tender age might color her views on marriage.

  What a shock it was to learn that she had put that part of her past behind so soon and subsequently transferred her girlish hopes and dreams to his friend Charles Bingley.

  “I will only say that Miss Bingley ought not to place the burden of an alliance between our families, which she so desperately covets, on your shoulders. You are far too young to find yourself in such a position.”

  “Marriage at sixteen is certainly not out of the question. Indeed, it happens all the time.”

  “Perhaps for young ladies who are far beneath you in consequence. So long as it is within my power to prevent it, no sister of mine shall suffer such a weighty burden. There will be time enough for all that after you have enjoyed a Season or two.”

  “By my calculation that might be two or three years hence, at most. By then I may have lost my chance to garner Mr. Bingley’s affections. Miss Bingley often says her brother is of an age where he is always making new acquaintances everywhere he goes. Desperate young ladies and their eager mamas who are constantly in search of single young men with large fortunes whom they naturally suspect are in want of wives abound.”

  He arched his brow. “If engaging in such intercourse defines the nature of your association, I think you and your new friend, Miss Bingley, are spending far too much time in each other’s company. It is all the more reason why I do not believe it is a good idea for you to accompany us to Hertfordshire.”

  “And this is your real opinion—this is your final word.”

  “It is.”

  “Very well, but mind you, I like Mr. Bingley, and I suspect he likes me too. I will not be dissuaded in my quest to become Mrs. Charles Bingley someday.”

  “So long as someday is several years in the making, I shall have no cause to repine.”

  “It is good to know that I have your blessing.” With that Georgiana stood in preparation to quit the room. “Good day, Brother.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I think I should like to call on Miss Bingley this morning. Who is to say how long she and I will be separated what with your upcoming departure for Hertfordshire? Perchance, I shall see her brother as well. I shall be happy to convey any message to him that you might wish.”

  “You will remember to ask Mrs. Annesley to join you I trust, and you will remain in her company at all times.”

  Mrs. Annesley had been employed by Darcy to be his sister’s companion in the aftermath of the discovery that her former companion, a Mrs. Younge, had been complicit in the Wickham debacle at Ramsgate. In subjecting Mrs. Annesley to a thorough investigation before hiring her, Darcy intended never to make such a mistake again. His sister meant everything to him.

  “Indeed. I would never dream of doing otherwise.”

  The young lady was gone directly, leaving her brother alone with his thoughts.

  Still a bit
taken aback by the candid discussion with a sister more than a decade his junior, Darcy sat at his desk, barely attending to the mounds of paperwork he needed to get through in preparation for his upcoming trip.

  I have no one to blame other than myself for Georgiana’s belief that an alliance between Bingley and her would meet with my approval.

  Indeed. Miss Bingley had given the strongest hints of how favorable such an alliance might prove to be. As it was on the heels of Georgiana’s thwarted elopement scheme with George Wickham, his former friend and current nemesis, Darcy had said nothing to dampen the young lady’s enthusiasm. At the time, he was more concerned about how London society might react should his young sister’s actions be discovered. Her reputation would have been ruined. Surely she did not deserve such a dire fate merely for trusting someone whom she had known all her life and, as a consequence, formed a strong attachment which she mistook for love.

  Even now, the notion of a possible alliance between his sister and one of his closest friends comforted Darcy. What better two people for each other, he liked to think.

  All in due time, however. All in due time.

  Chapter 3

  Her Next Recollection

  The lady of the manor house threw open the door of her older daughters’ room and poked her head inside. “You girls must hurry, or we shall arrive at the assembly after all the best gentlemen in the Netherfield party are taken. I can assure you my sister Phillips and her daughter will not be late. Even though Phoebe is not so pretty as you, Jane, and she is not so lively as Lydia, she is pretty enough, and she is certainly lively enough, and I cannot bear the thought of her outshining either of my girls.”