Page 31 of Moments Frozen in Time (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

ELIZABETH

I found the family already gathered at breakfast when I returned home. Mama immediately launched into a loud lament about the state of my hem, declaring it disgraceful. I offered no reply and quietly slipped into my usual seat.

To my surprise, Papa was holding a letter, his expression a mixture of amusement and mild annoyance at the delay. Once I had served myself, he cleared his throat with theatrical purpose.

“We are to have a visitor today, Mrs. Bennet,” he announced, drawing everyone’s attention. “I do hope you have ordered a fine dinner.”

Mama’s face lit up at his words. “Oh! Is it Mr. Bingley? Oh, my dearest Jane, I knew it—I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing! He has come to propose; I am certain of it. We must prepare immediately! You will be married before Christmas—oh, what a joy! A daughter married.”

“It is not Mr. Bingley,” Papa replied drily. “Our guest is a Mr. William Collins. A man whom I have never laid eyes on, yet who holds the honour of one day being able to throw you all out of this house. He is, as it happens, the heir to Longbourn. ”

“That odious man?” Mama gasped, clutching at her handkerchief as though she might swoon from the insult of his very existence. “Why is he coming here? What have we done to deserve such misfortune?”

“Perhaps it is not a misfortune,” Papa remarked, a faint smirk playing about his mouth.

“He reminds me—several times, in fact—that I have five daughters, as though I might have overlooked the fact. And to ease the insult of inheriting my estate, he offers what he calls an ‘olive branch’ as a gesture of reconciliation.”

“What do you suppose he means by that, Papa?” Mary asked earnestly.

Papa read the letter aloud to us all. When Mama, looking somewhat bewildered, asked what he supposed the letter implied, he replied with a shrug of indifference:

“I rather suspect he means to marry one of our girls,” he said drily.

“We shall see what sort of man he proves to be when he arrives, although, if nothing else, I daresay he will be diverting. It seems he is a rector, recently installed at a living somewhere in Kent, and—being so respectably settled—his patroness has urged him to mend the long-standing rift between our families.”

At this, Mama sat up straight, eyes alight with fresh determination.

“Girls, you must all be on your very best behaviour this afternoon. Lizzy,” she said, eyeing me with a critical tilt of her head, then shifting her gaze towards Mary, “since Jane already has Mr. Bingley nearly secured, I suppose it falls to one of you two next. But I wonder…” She trailed off, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

Her unfinished sentence lingered. I could not quite guess what plan was forming in her mind, but if Lydia’s tale from yesterday was true, she had already promised to remove me from Mr. Darcy’s path.

Surely she could not be so bold as to push me towards Mr. Collins, but that would fulfil her promise to Miss Bingley, would it not?

But, still, I would be here, and that was not what Miss Bingley wanted.

If I understood Lydia correctly, the lady wished me out of her way .

Having delivered his news, Papa soon excused himself from the table and retreated to his study. Unexpectedly, Mama rose not a moment later and followed him, presumably to his study, her skirts swishing behind her. Lydia glanced at me, and I nodded in quiet reply.

An hour later, as my sisters and I worked together in the stillroom, Mrs. Hill entered and announced that Papa required my presence in his study.

“Well, Lizzy,” Papa said as I entered, leaning back in his chair with a look of mild amusement, “it seems your mother has received a letter from her sister Gardiner. According to her, you are now urgently required in London. She has decided it would be best if you were not present when Mr. Collins arrives. Apparently, his being a clergyman makes her fear your impertinence will frighten the poor man off, and she is quite insistent that you depart as soon as may be arranged.”

He glanced at his desk. “A trunk is to be delivered to your room directly, and you are to leave at noon. My carriage will convey you to town.”

“Yes, Papa,” I replied, my voice calm despite the flurry of emotions beneath.

I was not surprised. I had suspected Mama might resort to such a scheme.

It seemed she had decided that the potential promise of Miss Bingley carried more weight than the idea of securing Mr. Collins for me.

Evidently, removing me from the neighbourhood entirely was a more convenient means of fulfilling her bargain.

I arrived in my room just as the trunk was delivered, and the lady’s maid shared by all my sisters remained to help me pack my things.

After she had assisted with my gowns, I sent her away and secured a few final items that were hidden around my room.

Since I suspected that I may never return to Longbourn, I did not want to leave anything of sentimental value.

Just before eleven, my sisters joined me in my room. When I told them of my departure, all but Lydia appeared surprised .

“I cannot imagine Aunt Gardiner demanding your presence so abruptly,” Jane said with a frown. “Is something the matter?”

I hesitated only a moment. “Jane, I hate to say it, but I believe Mama has invented a reason to send me away. She claims it is because I might frighten Mr. Collins off—and if the man is as foolish as his letter suggests, I admit I would find it difficult to hold my tongue in his presence.”

Mary crossed her arms, frustration clouding her features. “She means to offer him to me instead.”

“They cannot force you to marry him, Mary,” I said gently.

“But if they try, write to Uncle Gardiner—I will speak to him as well, and we will see what can be done. Of course, if you find Mr. Collins to be someone you could care for, then from a practical standpoint, it could be a good match. I have always said I would only marry for love, but as Papa’s heir, he would one day inherit Longbourn, and you would be mistress of the estate after his death. ”

Mary gave a short laugh, though there was no amusement in it. “If Mama is still alive, she will never relinquish her hold on the household.”

“Perhaps not,” I allowed, “but everything depends on what sort of man Mr. Collins turns out to be. Just promise me, Mary, do not agree to marry him simply because you feel you have no other choice.”

I turned to the younger girls. “Kitty, Lydia—you must help Mary, too. And all of you must write to me as often as you can. I want to know everything that happens here, as much as you are able to share. And I hope we can continue our conversation about books through our letters. Do not allow my departure to change your determination to do better, sisters.”

“La, Lizzy,” Lydia exclaimed. “You worry too much. I should like to think we have improved at least a little. We may still admire a man in a red coat, but we know that doesn’t make him a good husband.

Kitty and I have agreed to make an effort to flirt less, and I daresay others have noticed the change.

Lady Lucas and Mrs. Goulding even spoke quite kindly to both of us at Lucas Lodge the other evening. ”

“That is progress, Lydia,” I replied with a fond smile.

“Jane, I already know you will write to me. I shall miss you all, but I do hope I can be of help to Aunt Gardiner whilst I am in London. Promise me this—you must all enjoy the Netherfield ball, whenever it happens, and I expect all four of you to write and tell me every detail. Strive not to miss me too much.”

All my sisters hugged me tightly before Mr. Hill arrived to carry my trunk to the waiting carriage. Jane, Mary, and Kitty went downstairs to see me off, but I held out my arm to stop Lydia from following.

“Lyddie, will you give this to Mr. Darcy if you see him?” I asked, pressing a small note into her hand. “We met this morning at Oakham Mount and spoke about what you told me yesterday. If you cannot deliver it to him discreetly, then simply tell him I have gone to my aunt and uncle in London.”

“Of course, Lizzy,” she told me.

All too soon, I was settled in the carriage. I stared out the window, watching the familiar lanes disappear behind me. But when we reached the road that led south to London, the carriage turned north instead.

Alarmed, I questioned the maid who had been sent to accompany me, but she offered only vague replies and would not meet my gaze.

She was not one of our regular servants, I realised, but someone hired solely for this journey—as were the footman and the manservant.

That knowledge unsettled me further. None of them were familiar, none loyal to me. And none would say where we were going.

As dusk fell, the carriage pulled into an unfamiliar inn. The footman, silent and grim, escorted me and the maid inside and secured a room for us both. I was too unsettled to sleep easily, and by morning, I found that my father’s carriage had already departed—without me .

Instead, the hired manservant greeted me with a sealed packet of travel documents and informed me that he had tickets for a post coach to Dumfries, Scotland.

We were to leave at once, and the journey was expected to take more than a se’nnight.

He had funds, apparently provided by my father, to see us through the trip.

I tried to send a letter—first by asking the man, then the maid—but both refused. “It is not permitted,” they said, repeating the phrase like a mantra. Worse still, they kept constant watch and never left me alone long enough to appeal to anyone else.

Where I was being taken—and for what purpose—I could not say.

I did not know whether my father had consented to this scheme or if it was entirely my mother’s doing.

But a darker suspicion soon crept in: could Miss Bingley be behind it?

Had she contrived to have me sent away, out of Mr. Darcy’s reach, in the hope that my absence would clear the path for her to secure him?

The idea felt far-fetched… and yet, with every passing mile, it seemed less implausible.

Once again, I heard my grandmother’s voice urging me to be patient—but for the first time, her words brought me no comfort.

How long would I be kept wherever I was going?

Was I in true danger, or simply being hidden away to remove me from Mr. Darcy’s company?

Did anyone know where I was being taken?

Surely Papa and Mama knew something. But would they allow my sisters to write to the Gardiners? Would they concoct a story to explain my absence and the lack of word from me? Most unsettling of all—would I ever be permitted to return home? Or would this ruin my reputation somehow?

Earlier today, the idea that I might not return to Longbourn because I would soon be married to Mr. Darcy had filled me with excitement rather than fear. But now, the thought that I might never return to my home left me deeply unsettled. I no longer knew what to think.

Would Mr. Darcy look for me? He had said he loved me, that he wished to marry me. What would he do when he went to the Gardiners’ home and found I was not there? Would he be worried or think that I had abandoned him?

The questions circled endlessly in my mind, offering no answers.

I had not prepared for a journey of several days and possessed little to occupy my time.

My small sewing basket that I had carried in the carriage with me held only a few projects, hardly enough to sustain me for more than a day or two.

I had a modest amount of money tucked safely away, but instinct warned me not to reveal it—not to these people, whoever they truly were.

Were they my guardians on this strange journey… or my captors?

My imagination, already stirred by fear and uncertainty, turned to wild possibilities—most drawn from the novels I had read with my sisters in recent weeks. I could not help but wonder if my current situation would soon rival even the most improbable of those stories.