The Winter of Our Discontent: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

by Grace Gibson

…artifice and disguise…must constitute the crown jewels of your talents…

I crossed my arms and marvelled at the man’s condescension. He had made an error with that smirk because upon seeing it, my courage rose up like a tidal flood.

Mrs Darcy stood ready to be taken to the bear’s den to be mauled for sport.

“Before you go,” I said coldly, “perhaps you might explain to my husband why I must conduct this interview while standing.” “That was badly done of me, Mrs Darcy. I beg your pardon.”

I regretted my inability to disguise my dislike of my new bride. She had done as much as could be expected to minimise the appearance of discord, but then, she was an accomplished liar—an actress, an adventuress.

The Elizabeth Bennet of not five months ago would have excoriated such a man with her tongue for his highhanded disdain. I would have raged and bitten at his pride with my frightful fangs.

I held the letter in my lap and knew my eyes glittered with tears. This would not do! I made a little jest to rescue myself. “You know, Wilson, that if you ever take up with a footman and end with a belly full of his child, I will side with you against the world.”

She had ensnared me, obligated me to marry her against the inclination of my soul, and now, at last, she showed her hand. Bit by bit, her family would arrive. They would be made useful at first, and then slowly earn privileges and positions and introductions. I would subsidise their livings, fund their entrance to society in London, dower, and promote them.

“Mr Darcy, do you have any idea who I might be to you?” he said abruptly. If I had not known better, I would have thought his tone rather confrontational. “To me, sir?” I replied coldly. “I am Elizabeth Bennet’s uncle,” he said in a slightly victorious manner. “I bid you goodnight, sir.”