Excentryke's Musings

Title: Replacement
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandom(s): Pride & Prejudice / Twilight
Pairings: Bella/Darcy, (former/one sided) Anne/Darcy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 6k
Summary: Anne dies and Lady Catherine finds the new heiress to Rosings Park is none other than her erstwhile nephew’s only daughter, Bella Swan…

Replacement

Renee came and woke up Bella early one morning, shaking her by the shoulder.  Bella was having a strange dream about heat and desert sands, but she quickly woke and squinted into the candlelight.  “Mama?” she asked into the darkness.

“Come,” Renee told her.  “A carriage is here.”

“A carriage?”  Bella blinked twice, attempting to dispel her dream.  “What carriage?”

“It is your aunt, Lady Catherine.” 

Bella’s eyes widened.  Why was Lady Catherine De Bourg here?  Lady Catherine was her wayward father’s aunt by marriage, and as such was Bella’s great aunt.  Bella and her mother, Renee, lived off of a small pension that Sir Lewis De Bourg had left Charlie Swan in his Last Will and Testament, and the two women were dependent on Lady Catherine’s good will for any additional monetary benefit.

Lady Catherine had even paid for Bella to be sent for Bath for three years so that she could become an appropriate young lady of substance.  Bella, at the age of seventeen, was finished as it was now called, and Renee had applied to their patroness for Bella to have a season in London.

Neither had expected for Lady Catherine to appear in the flesh—especially not before sunrise.

Renee set the candle down on the bedside table and helped Bella get out of bed, their one maid, Charlotte, coming forward with a dressing gown for Bella to put on.

“Now,” Renee was saying, a little flighty.  “You must show all deference to your aunt.  If she makes mention of London, you must be suitably grateful.  Ask—but do not push—for an increase in my allowance.  You know we need to pay the butcher.”

Bella had now placed her feet in her slippers and was combing her midnight black hair out behind her shoulders so it would not get in her face.  “Yes, Mama,” she agreed wryly, looking at Renee.  “And I will not mention Phil.”

“No, no,” Renee agreed quickly.  “If she knows I have a suitor, she will stop my allowance completely.”

Sighing, Bella picked up the candle and exited the room.

The Swan women lived in a small house that they had inherited from Charlie Swan upon his death (an unfortunate shooting accident with his friend Billy Black), which had but two bedrooms upstairs, a kitchen, and a small parlor downstairs.

Lady Catherine, of course, was waiting in the small parlor with a glass of their best—in actuality, their only—wine.

Renee, her blonde hair a bit frazzled but still in its night curlers, hesitated outside the door.

Bella turned to her.

“She wishes to see you alone.”

Bella felt her stomach clench.  She had not seen Lady Catherine since Sir Lewis’s death when she was but eleven years old.  Bella remembered her as being quite imposing.

Biting her lip, she nodded, opened the door, and went through.

Lady Catherine sat imposingly on the settee, surrounded by their limited candles.  Renee never allowed Bella to light more than one candle in the evening because they could not afford to burn them.  Lady Catherine was burning five.  The sight seemed quite extravagant to Bella.  She took it in and breathed in deeply.

Lady Catherine had blonde hair streaked with grey piled on her head despite the earliness of the hour and was dressed elegantly in blue silks and a deep brown traveling coat.  She had several rings on her thick fingers, and Bella, taking this all in, quickly curtsied to her great aunt.

“Ah, Isabella,” Lady Catherine greeted imperiously, taking her in, from her midnight black hair, to her violet eyes, to her white nightshift and robe.  “I see you have grown into a beautiful young lady.  Good.”

Bella took a moment and then realized she could rise.  “Lady Catherine,” she murmured, trying to find her voice.  “What an unexpected honor—”

“Yes,” Lady Catherine interrupted, her blue eyes flashing.  “It is certainly unexpected.  Your cousin Anne is dead.”

Shocked still, Bella’s eyes widened.

“Yes, she has been in ill health for so long,” Lady Catherine agreed, picking up her wine and taking an elegant sip.  She then made a motion with her free hand.  “Turn, girl.  I would like to see all of you.”

Bella hesitated for a moment.

“Turn,” Lady Catherine insisted.  “Put down that candle and turn so I can see you.  My, my, what did they teach you in Bath?”

Quickly, Bella reached over to a small table and put down her candle.  Then, carefully, she turned in her spot.

“The dressing gown obstructs your figure,” Lady Catherine complained.  “Oh dear.  You shall simply have to get dressed.  But before that,” she motioned Bella forward.  “You must be wondering what I am doing here.”

“Yes, Lady Catherine,” Bella admitted, carefully coming forward.  “You have taken me completely by surprise.”

“As I have said, my daughter Anne is dead.  Just this past four hours.”

Bella sank down into a chair and put her hands neatly in her lap, just as she had been taught.  She nodded to show that she was listening. 

“I had my solicitor over yesterday when it was clear Anne was not long for this world.”  She looked a little unsettled.  “I am not certain if you know this, child, but Anne was mistress of Rosings.”

“Was she?” Bella asked carefully, wondering how she came into it.

“You were Sir Lewis’s grandniece and goddaughter,” Lady Catherine continued.  “On the occasion of Anne’s death before she could beget heirs, Rosings goes to you.”

Bella blinked.  She was not quite certain she had heard correctly.

Lady Catherine appraised her.  “I have a life’s share in Rosings until my death, but Rosings is very much yours.  And now I have come to take you to Rosings.  I will oversee your coming out.  Mrs. Swan,” this she said quite carefully, clearly referring to Renee, “is not equipped for your debut.  Charlie Swan was a good man, but he married beneath him.”  Here she sniffed.  “We must get you to the modiste, young lady, and into proper mourning.  I ordered your maid to pack a bag for you, you shall say your farewells to your mama, and after you get dressed, you will come back with me.  Is that quite understood?  I will see to it Mrs. Swan does not object.”

Bella took a moment and considered.  “Anne is dead?” she checked.

Lady Catherine nodded once again.  “Very much so, my dear.”

“And I am heiress to Rosings?”

“As I said.”

“Mama wants me to have a London Season.”

“It is March now.  You will not be eighteen until October.  We can go to London next May when we are both out of mourning.  It will all be very tasteful.  I will see to it that your mother is well compensated for the loss of your company.”  She sniffed.

Bella looked over her shoulder toward the door where she knew Renee was undoubtedly listening in at the keyhole.  “She would be very grateful,” Bella conceded.

“Well,” Lady Catherine decided.  “If that is all settled.  You need to change, young lady.  We should be on the post road long before breakfast.  We can stop at an inn for your repast.”

Bella stood and curtseyed.  “Yes, Lady Catherine.”

“Do try to wear a demure dress,” Lady Catherine suggested.  “We are in mourning.”

“Of course.”  Bella picked up her candle and headed toward the door.  Before opening it, she looked back at Lady Catherine once and saw her sitting there magisterially, as if she owned the room.  She did, in all actuality.

Bella left as gracefully as she could.  She was lucky she had not tripped over the doorway when she had entered.

Renee was waiting for her with a gleam in her eye. 

“Not now,” Bella told her.  “You have a raise in your allowance.”

“To think—mistress of Rosings!”

Bella did not listen.  She lifted her skirts and ran up the staircase, not wanting to hear Renee’s effusions and found Charlotte had laid a dark blue dress out on her bed, but had disappeared herself.  A bag was packed up and on the dresser.  Bella put down the candle and made herself ready.

Not fifteen minutes later, with her hair pinned in a bun to the base of her cranium in the way she always wore it, Bella was bundled into the De Burg carriage and left the small house she had called home for the past several years.

She was not sad to go.  Renee was a trial.  Bella was essentially running the household on a small budget as her mother had not the capacity nor the inclination.  Charlie Swan had left them with nothing but their allowance from the De Bourg estate.  They lived off of the pleasure of Lady Catherine.

The ride was but a couple of hours and they did stop at a coach inn for their repast.

Bella, nonetheless, was travel weary when they reached Rosings Park in the mid morning hours, and was granted leave to rest in a well appointed room.

The first order of business was to attend a modiste for mourning clothes.  Bella was dressed in black silks as befit her station, almost her entire wardrobe having been left behind.  The funeral was the next day, only the village being in attendance.  No one questioned the identity of the well dressed young woman in attendance to Lady Catherine, even when she visited Anne’s grave regularly with a small nosegay of flowers.

A routine was set into motion. 

Bella spent her days playing the pianoforte and singing, embroidering cushions, and riding around the estate.  Lady Catherine was strident in her conversation, but Mrs. Jenkinson, her companion, was a fast friend in the quiet hours when Bella repaired to the library or wished a walk.

Then, just before Easter, Lady Catherine received a letter at breakfast that caused her to dismiss Mrs. Jenkinson and the servants from the room.  Waiting until everyone had withdrawn, she looked over her monocle and pierced Bella with her blue gaze, “Isabella, you know I do not expect you to make a good match until you have your Season in London a year hence.”

Startled, Bella set down her dish of tea and gave the conversation the attention it deserved.  “Yes.  Of course.”

“My nephews, a Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and Colonel Fitzwilliam always come to spend Easter here at Rosings.  It was always my wish that Anne would marry Darcy—”  She paused and looked at Bella meaningfully.

Bella chewed her lip.  “I thought I was permitted to wait.”

“You are,” Lady Catherine agreed, putting down the letter.  “However, if Darcy should show interest—”

Bella leaned forward and could tell that Lady Catherine wished for her to finish the thought.  “You wish for me to consider him.”

“Exactly, my dear,” Lady Catherine concluded.  “It was Lady Anne’s and my dearest wish that Darcy and Anne should marry—”

“But I am not Anne.”

“No,” Lady Catherine agreed, clearly thinking.  “However, you are Sir Lewis De Bourg’s heir.”

Ah.  Bella was the next best thing.  She seemed to be functioning as some sort of surrogate.  She had already noticed that.  Lady Catherine had already requested that Bella address her as “Aunt,” even in company, not that they had been in company.  She even chose Bella’s dress every morning, the maids coming in and selecting three dresses—all of them black silks for mourning—parading them out of the room, and one coming back having clearly been decided upon by Lady Catherine.  Bella then had to present herself to Lady Catherine at the breakfast table for inspection before she could join her for the morning’s meal.  She felt like a doll.  Lady Catherine had already changed her hairstyle from the severe bun to a complicated chignon.  She tried to have Bella’s hair curled, but that was where Bella drew the line.

Bella looked down into her milky tea and took a deep breath.  “Did—did Mr. Darcy wish to marry Anne?” she inquired, wondering if Darcy would be amenable to exchanging one young woman for another, although Bella understood that Anne had been sickly for several years and was much older than Bella at three and twenty.

She lifted her violet eyes and caught Lady Catherine’s gaze. 

“He had not come around to my frame of thinking,” Lady Catherine confessed.  She regarded Bella carefully.  “However, Isabella, you are so youthful, so accomplished.  You have a pleasant turn of face when you are not looking down at your feet.  He may very well prefer you to Anne.”

“I see,” Bella sighed.  “I will take your wishes under consideration, Aunt.”

Lady Catherine looked decidedly pleased.  “That is all I ask.”

However, Bella considered it a tall order.  She did not necessarily wish to come out into society.  She was a little hesitant around new people, and although her dancing master in Bath had declared that she was prepared to enter society, she was afraid she would trip on her skirt in an actual dance.  Bella much preferred to read her poetry at the Greek Folly and speak to other young women her age, not that there seemed to be any young women of rank in the vicinity of Rosings Park.

Within a se’ennight of Lady Catherine receiving the letter from her nephews, the very same gentlemen arrived in a carriage and presented themselves. 

The one in regimentals was certainly the Colonel.  He was slightly taller, with curling brown hair, a patrician nose, and muddy eyes.  The other gentleman—Darcy—he appeared quite similar but with a sharp verdant gaze that caused Bella’s breath to catch.  Darcy regarded her for a moment before turning to his aunt.

“Ah, Darcy, Fitzwilliam,” Lady Catherine greeted from where she and Bella were standing in the receiving room.  “You made excellent time.”  She was resplendent in her black silks with a black widows bonnet on her head.  Bella was a black column beside her, her pale skin a stark contrast to her violet eyes and raven hair.

“Lady Catherine,” Darcy greeted, coming up and kissing her hand.  “May I offer my condolences on Cousin Anne’s passing?  Georgiana likewise sends her sympathies.”

“Thank you, Darcy,” Lady Catherine replied solemnly.  “I cannot say it was unexpected.  She had been ill for so long.”  She sighed.  “Fitzwilliam.”  She held out her hand to the Colonel who likewise took it and offered his sympathies.

Lady Catherine regally sat, which Bella took as her cue although she had yet to be introduced. 

The two nephews—who were not related to Bella by blood, being Lady Catherine’s nephews on the Fitzwilliam side—likewise sat and tea was called.

“I immediately had the solicitor call up Sir Lewis’s Last Will and Testament,” Lady Catherine explained as tea was called, “as I was uncertain the providence of Rosings Park if Anne should die without issue.  I was quite surprised.  Sir Lewis favored his nephew, Charles Swan, who himself is deceased these many years, but Mr. Swan left an heir—or an heiress, I should say—Isabella.”  She indicated Bella with her hand and both nephews immediately turned their attention to her.

Bella was sitting on a side couch, just now accepting a dish of tea from Mrs. Jenkinson, and stilled at everyone’s sudden scrutiny of her.

“Isabella is just now returned from Bath,” Lady Catherine further explained.  “I will take her for a London Season in a year’s time.  I have great hopes for her.”

The Colonel set down his dish of tea.  “Well met, Cousin Isabella,” he greeted.  “May I congratulate you in your rise to fortune.”

Bella considered him for a long moment.  “I do not consider it in a rise in fortune”—and she certainly did not.  She was still adjusting.  She was secretly pleased to be away from her mother’s influence.  Renee was a trial on the best of days, but Lady Catherine was a trial all her own.  Bella might be heiress of Rosings Park, but Lady Catherine had a life’s interest in the property.  Bella certainly was not her own mistress.

Picking up her dish of tea, she considered to herself, and then took a sip.  She realized someone’s gaze was upon her and she realized it was Darcy.  She met his verdant eyes head on despite her natural shyness, although she was forced to look away when Lady Catherine again spoke:

“Isabella is all natural modesty.”  Lady Catherine looked at her approvingly.  “I find little fault with her, except a natural shyness which belies her age.”

Blushing down her neck, which Bella found embarrassing, Bella looked back into her dish of tea and did not respond.

“As you can see,” Lady Catherine concluded.

Darcy was regarding her again.  Bella wondered at it.

Lady Catherine controlled the conversation at dinner, but Bella did not much mind it.  She was content to eat her soup and cut her chicken, listening to Darcy and the Colonel update Lady Catherine on their families and hear of Pemberley, Darcy’s estate in Derbyshire.  She wondered why Lady Catherine and Lady Anne wished for Darcy and Anne De Bourg to marry if they each had separate estates at separate ends of the country.

That night Bella dreamed of torrential rain and young men sparkling in the sun.  It was such a strange dream that she woke up gasping, but the sun was shining and she could hear birdsong.  Climbing out of bed, she went to the window and pulled back the sash, looking out at the beautiful front gardens.

She waited while her dresses were taken out and one was brought back in.  Bella was then poked and prodded, her maid having especial orders to make her more than presentable.

When she went into the breakfast room, she found Lady Catherine sitting regally at the head of the table, with Darcy staring out the window, a dish of tea in his hand.

“Ah, Isabella,” Lady Catherine greeted.  “Let me see you.”

Bella came and presented herself and, just as on every morning, she spun in place slowly so Lady Catherine could see the full effect.  When she faced forward, she saw that Darcy was also regarding her.

“Quite lovely,” Lady Catherine declared.  “In another four months, you can come out into half mourning and wear greys and purples.  Those colors will no doubt suit your complexion.”

Bella blushed at Darcy’s continued scrutiny.  “Thank you, Aunt.”

“Not at all,” Lady Catherine agreed, indicating Bella’s usual seat.

Darcy had turned back toward the window.

The Colonel came in when they were about all finishing up, having been on a brisk ride, and inquired as to Bella’s health.  She answered in the affirmative, before leaving the room for her own constitutional. 

Darcy found her in the Greek Folly, her horse grazing a little ways off.  It appeared that he had come on foot.

“What are you reading?” he inquired, as he settled down next to her in the wildflowers.

Showing him the spine, he nodded, and she turned the page.  They sat in repose for several long minutes, Bella having almost forgotten he was there, except for the feeling of his eyes upon her.

After turning another page, she inquired, “Do you always regard strangers thus or just wards of your aunt?”

“I did not mean to disquiet you,” he apologized.  “I remember Sir Lewis and you bear a great resemblance to him.”

She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes.  “How so? I do understand that I resemble my father, who was Sir Lewis’s nephew.”

“You have the same look of concentration, the same violet eyes, which I found so unusual as a child, the same raven hair.  There is something about the mouth.”

Bella went and touched her chin, feeling self-conscious. 

“You are most certainly a De Bourg, even though you do not carry the name,” he continued.  “Anne looked more like a Fitzwilliam.”

“You and the Colonel resemble each other.  I take it, then, that is the Fitzwilliam look, though I remember Anne quite differently.” 

Darcy’s face remained impassive, but he solemnly said: “No, we do not have the Fitzwilliam look.  The Fitzwilliam look is delicate and fair.  You see it in Lady Catherine.”

“I would not call Lady Catherine delicate.”  Bella looked away toward her horse, thinking of her guardian.

“No,” Darcy agreed, “but she is slight in figure.”

Bella returned her focus to him and nodded.  “Anne was always delicate, wrapped up in her shawls.”

“Yes,” Darcy mused, his regard of her seeming to get slightly more intense.  “As I said, you are very much the De Bourg.”

“Mama,” Bella admitted, thinking of Renee, “quite despaired over my looks.”

Darcy seemed surprised.  “I see no cause.”

Bella startled.  It was certainly a compliment although a subtle one.  She felt a blush suffuse her cheeks and slide down her neck.  She was glad she was wearing a blusher as it would hide much of the flush of her skin.

Looking away from his verdant gaze, Bella looked up at the sun and realized, “Luncheon will be soon.”

“Shall I escort you back, Miss Swan?” Darcy offered.  Standing, he offered her his hand.

Neither of them were wearing gloves.  Bella carefully marked her place in her book, and accepted his hand, standing.  She stepped on the hem of her black gown and tripped into his arms.  He caught her and Bella looked up into his eyes, stuck on his gaze.  Darcy was so much taller than she was, although Bella herself was quite tall for a girl of seventeen.

They clung to each other for a moment too long, until Darcy seemed to recollect himself and pulled away from her, leaning over and picking up her discarded bonnet.  Offering it to her, he then went to fetch her mare.  Bella stood, holding her bonnet, before she realized she should put it on and quickly did so.

When he returned to her, she offered him a shy smile and he led her back onto the pathway toward the house.

She knew someone was espying them from the window when they came up the garden path, but she did not know if it was Lady Catherine or the Colonel.  When they entered the Drawing Room, they were both in positions of repose and Lady Catherine asked after her ride with a twinkle in her eye.

Now that Darcy and the Colonel were in residence, Lady Catherine had decided to do some light entertaining and invite the vicar and his wife.  They themselves had a guest, a young woman by the name of Elizabeth Bennet, with whom Darcy said he had become acquainted in Hertfordshire.

Bella had of course attended Sunday services with Lady Catherine, but was inattentive to the sermon.  She had seen the vicar’s wife and had noticed her friend, but had never spoken to either.

The morning of the dinner, Bella was once again at the Greek Folly when she realized she was no longer alone.  Looking up, she saw none other than Darcy.  She raised her eyebrows at him, but went back to her book.

Darcy came over to her and sat in the grasses, not at first saying anything.  Then, “I saw Miss Bennet walking the paths this morning.”

She sighed.  “I am glad you did not show her the Folly.  Then I would have to make conversation.  There will be enough of that at dinner.”

“Miss Bennet seemed quite surprised to see me.”

Bella glanced up at him.  He was regarding her again.  “Perhaps she expected you in Hertfordshire.”

“I quit Hertfordshire in November with no plans to return.”  He said this dismissively.

“Then perhaps she expected you in Derbyshire and not in Kent.”  Bella turned the page.

“You are most likely correct.”  They fell into the silence.  Then, “I hope we will have the pleasure of hearing you perform tonight.”

“Lady Catherine would expect no less.”  She turned another page.  “Does Miss Bennet play?”

The next moment, Bella found that the book was taken out of her hands, and she was forced to look up at Darcy.  “I do not care if Miss Bennet plays or sings.”

Bella was reclining on one arm, but she quickly pushed herself up to a sitting position and reached for her book.  Darcy was fortunately good natured enough to return it to her.  “I do not care if Miss Bennet plays or sings,” she told him.  “However, she seemed to be the subject of conversation this morning.—I might easily ask if Mrs. Collins plays, but as neither of us knows the lady, neither of us can say.” 

Darcy looked her over carefully and he leaned back, showing that he took her point.

She returned her eyes to her book, but she did not recline back into the grasses.

“I am acquainted,” Darcy began carefully, and Bella flicked her eyes up to him, showing that he should continue.  “I am acquainted,” he repeated, “with Mrs. Collins.  I was present when Mr. Collins was in Hertfordshire to find a bride.”

“Hmm,” Bella agreed.  “Why would he go to Hertfordshire to find a bride?  Surely there are women in Kent.”

“Mr. Collins is a Bennet cousin,” he told her, and she flicked her eyes back up to him.  “He went to Hertfordshire, or so I understand it, to marry a Bennet daughter.”

“Then Mrs. Collins is a Bennet.”

Darcy shook his head.  “Mr. Collins’s plans went awry.  He ended up marrying a local knight’s daughter, Miss Lucas, and not one of the Misses Bennet.”

Bella did not usually indulge in gossip, but this was certainly unusual.  “And now a Bennet daughter is visiting?”

“Indeed,” Darcy told her.

“How peculiar,” she agreed.  “Does Miss Bennet seem—agitated?”

“She seemed in excellent spirits to me.”

“Hmm.”  She turned another page.  “I shall have to observe Mr. Collins, Mrs. Collins, and Miss Bennet closely tonight, and I initially had no such plans.”

“If I can be of any assistance,” Darcy offered, his verdant gaze regarding her again.

Bella paused and then she put her book down.  “I should not speak so plainly,” she told him, finding a well of inner courage, “but I thought you were supposed to marry Anne.”

Darcy did not even blink.  Instead, he answered, “Lady Catherine had some such notion.”

“She told me,” Bella admitted.

“What else did she tell you?”  He looked at her openly, as if expecting an honest answer.

She considered for a moment.  “That,” Bella answered carefully, “I am now the heiress of Rosings.”

He nodded.  “I think I understand you.”

“I do not understand myself,” Bella admitted, reopening her book.  “Lady Catherine has promised me a London Season in a year when I am of age.  I am not certain I shall not faint if I am presented to Queen Charlotte.”

“Not just debutants are presented to Queen Charlotte,” Darcy told her carefully, and her eyes flashed up to his.  Their gazes held.

“Do these ladies still wear white?”

“Indeed they do,” he informed her.

“With the feathers?”

“I am afraid so.”

She sighed.  Bella did not like the idea of wearing feathers.  She also did not like the idea of wearing white.  Black was bad enough—but white?  She shuddered just thinking of it.

“Miss Swan, are you cold?” Darcy asked solicitously.

She looked up at him with her wide violet eyes.  “I was imagining wearing white,” she admitted.  “I have never owned a white muslin in my life.”

“Indeed, I cannot imagine you in such a color.”

Bella grimaced at him and returned to her book.  The conversation had reached its natural conclusion and so Darcy remained silent.  They only came back to Rosings when it was time for luncheon, Darcy once again escorting Bella.

When it was time to change for dinner, which was quite early given they had guests, Bella had to change from a black day dress into a black evening dress.  She sat at her vanity and had her hair elaborately put up and pinned every which way.  Her evening gloves were even black.  She even found that she had a black and silver fan.  At least she had been taught the art of the fan in Bath.

Darcy was waiting for her at the base of the stairs, and she found herself blushing crimson at the attention.  Of course, she had to present herself for Lady Catherine’s approval, turning in a circle and then unveiling the fan.  She even did a fan toss, which earned applause from the Colonel.  Darcy glanced at him sideways from his position still at Bella’s side.

When the vicar and his wife arrived, Bella was sitting on a settee with Darcy in attendance.  The vicar was a deferential man, his wife was plain with dull eyes and in a widow’s cap.  The friend, who was undoubtedly Miss Elizabeth Bennet, was pretty with honey blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a pleased look.  She was, however, very badly dressed for her complexion. 

Lady Catherine was extremely strident, making pronouncements. 

“What, all five sisters out, the younger out before the elder are married?” she demanded of Elizabeth Bennet during the soup course.  “Your youngest sister must be very young.”

“Yes, ma’am, my youngest is not yet sixteen.”

Darcy and the Colonel exchanged a look from across the table, which Bella caught.  She wondered what it was about.

“I saw that,” she told Darcy when he set her down at the pianoforte to perform, although she did not need anyone to turn the pages.  She was playing from memory.  “Why did you exchange a look with the Colonel when Miss Bennet mentioned the age of her youngest sister?”  She started shuffling music around to have an excuse to continue the conversation.

He leaned slightly closer to her.  “It is only Georgiana recently turned sixteen.  It is full young to be out in society.”

Bella’s violet eyes flitted up to him.  “She comes out a year after I do, I suppose.”

“You are quite correct.  Neither of you are seen at the local Assemblies or out in company.”

“I am present here, am I not?”

“You are with your cousins and the vicar, that is not ‘in company,’” Darcy corrected.

“In case you have not noticed,” Bella corrected, “you and the Colonel are not my blood relations.”  She set all the music aside and sat down at the pianoforte.  “I think Aunt Catherine should like to hear Mozart.  Do you not think, Mr. Darcy?”  She flicked up her eyes to him and then prepared herself to sing.

The next morning, when Bella came into the breakfast room to present herself to Lady Catherine, she found that only Darcy and the Colonel were in the room, and they were clearly in conference.

“Where is Aunt Catherine?” she asked, confused.

Darcy looked up from the window.  “I believe you are early, Miss Swan, by a full half hour.  She is not yet down.”

“She is not?” Bella inquired, coming around the table and then looking between the two cousins.  “You are in deep conversation.  Is anything the matter?”

The Colonel looked nervously between her and Darcy.  Darcy shared a glance with him and then led Bella to sit at her usual place.  “We were speaking of Miss Bennet’s loose tongue.”

Confused, Bella asked as she sat down, “Does she have a loose tongue?  I saw you laughing with her at the pianoforte last night, Colonel.”

“Only to hide her indiscretions,” the Colonel admitted darkly.  “I am afraid she was free in sharing her ill opinion of Darcy.  She has no compunction of keeping her counsel even when speaking in his aunt’s house to his own relations.  Who knows what other lies she has been spreading throughout Kent and Hertfordshire.”

Bella looked alarmed.  “Are you certain?”

“I had thought,” Darcy admitted carefully as he came from the sideboard with a plate of ham for Bella, “that she had meant to catch me in Hertfordshire.  Perhaps when she saw that I had not been caught, her usually teasing words acquired a cruel edge.”

Looking up at him suddenly, Bella asked a little shakily, “She meant to catch you?”

The Colonel looked between them carefully.  “Many women, Cousin Isabella,” he explained, “mean to catch Darcy for his estate.  Pemberley is quite fine.”

“Oh.”  Bella was not entirely certain how to take that.  Darcy was now fetching her tea.  She took her napkin and placed it on her lap.  Looking down at her ham, she found she had not an appetite.

“At least Darcy’s reputation in Kent is established,” the Colonel continued.  “We have been visitors here every Easter since we were young men.”

“Indeed,” Bella agreed.  “That is most fortunate.”  She opened her mouth to say more, but Lady Catherine swept into the room, and the three of them were forced to conclude the conversation.

Lady Catherine immediately had Bella out of her seat and twirling for her, finding her toilette for the day satisfactory, so she could return to her breakfast.

Most mornings Bella would ride her horse to the Greek Folly with a book, and most days Darcy would follow her there on foot and escort her home for luncheon.  Bella knew that Lady Catherine viewed this development as satisfactory, but at the end of five weeks, Darcy had yet to propose, and Bella was uncertain she wanted him to.

“Do you go to London for the Season?” Bella asked as she read her book in the grasses on the cousins’ last full day at Rosings.

“Lady Matlock has requested my presence,” Darcy agreed.  “Lady Julia is in her third season.”

“Is she another one of your cousins?” Bella inquired.

“She is Colonel Fitzwilliam’s younger sister.”

“Ah.  Lady Julia needs to find herself a husband otherwise she will be placed on the shelf.”  She turned the page.  “At least that is what they taught us in finishing school in Bath.”

“Lady Julia has a suitable dowry.”

“A dowry is not everything,” Bella noted sagely.  “Anne De Bourg was the heiress of Rosings and she did not catch a husband.”

“You are quite correct,” Darcy agreed.  “All of England as her dower could not have caught Anne a husband.”

Bella looked up and arched an eyebrow at Darcy.  He looked back at her resolutely.  He was clearly not prevaricating.  She was that sickly then. 

“Surely a second son—”

“Lady Catherine would not have permitted a second son,” Darcy explained.  “She was quite specific in her desires.”

“Then it was not all Anne’s fault,” Bella decided.  “She could have caught a husband, she just could not catch you.”  She decidedly did not look up.  Bella could, however, feel Darcy’s gaze on her. 

He did not answer.

They lapsed into silence.

After half an hour, Bella heard the rustling of the grass beside her.  She looked up.

“I should like to invite you and Lady Catherine to Pemberley this August.  I will formally send an invitation in a month or so.”

“Does Lady Catherine leave Rosings?” Bella wondered.

“Not while Anne was still alive.  She was too ill to travel.”  He paused.  “If you should not like to come, tell me now and I shall not send the invitation.”

She regarded him a long moment.  “You wish for me to see Pemberley.”

“I also wish for you to meet Georgiana.”

She nodded.  “Thank you.”  Bella meant to thank him for not asking her to marry him that morning.  She glanced up at him and saw that he understood.  He nodded once to her and then looked out over the Folly.  She returned to her book.

“Well,” Lady Catherine said once their carriage departed the next day, “I daresay Darcy is fond of you although he did not declare himself.”

“Perhaps he wishes to give me time to grow up,” Bella suggested as she smoothed her skirts.  “I am, after all, only seventeen.”

“You are of an age to marry.”

“That is true,” she agreed, “but I am only recently come into my inheritance.”

“We shall wait for him then,” Lady Catherine decided.  “How should you like that?”

Bella smiled.  She found she liked that very much.

The End.

Continue onto Replacement, Pt. II & Replacement Pt. III