By Bethany Delleman
“I cannot believe you declined, Caroline!”
Caroline turned back towards her sister, “I said I am feeling unwell, Louisa.”
“I know that is a lie,” said her sister, taking her hand to hold her in place.
“I have not yet made up my mind about accepting a second dance from Mr. Rushworth. And until I do, I am ill.”
“He has twelve thousand a year!”
“I am well aware of his fortune,” Caroline snapped, “equally am I aware of his many demerits. I may want to marry rich, but I have standards.”
“Oh really?” said Louisa, raising one perfectly coiffed brow.
“I met Robert Ferrars in my first season and my taste has significantly improved since then. It is too much, to remember at two-and-twenty all the foolish things that were done in one’s youth.”
“Mr. Rushworth is not… un-handsome.”
“No, his figure is not disagreeable.”
“He is well-mannered.”
“Yes, he is passable in high society.”
“He is… manageable.”
Caroline rolled her eyes, “He is a little too manageable, dear sister, and seems to agree with whomever has last spoken. I have a good deal to fear from his mother, I gather.”
“Only if you are foolish enough to run off with another man while married to him.”
“I can guarantee you; I am not that sort of foolish. But Louisa, how can you want for me a marriage so similar to your own in-,” she paused to think, “inequality of mind?”
“I think it rather a blessing to have the upper hand in that domain. I have at least enjoyed it thus far.”
“Am I so foolish to want a man who is at least somewhat clever? Rushworth has wealth, but on those long summers nights in the country one wishes to have some rational, perhaps even playful conversation.”
“Then you simply shall ask me as your guest.”
“Ah, the truth comes forth in its full glory. I have lost you summers at Pemberley, by no fault of my own I may add, and you have decided that summers at Sotherton will do just as well.”
“Mr. Hurst has no country home.”
“He has.”
“Caroline, it has no roof!”
“It exists. Whether it functions as a home or not is besides the point. That is what you have always told me.” Caroline winked.
“Well the best thing about Sotherton is that it both exists and is habitable.”
Caroline shook her head, “I need some more time.”
Louisa frowned, “You know he will fall in love quickly; men like him always do.”
“One night will not be the death of all your dreams, my dear. I can recapture him tomorrow if I so choose. It will not be very difficult.”
Louisa sighed.
Caroline snorted, “You are right, someone will fall on this sword eventually, but I have not yet resolved that the pleasure will be worth the pain. Good night.”
Louisa watched her sister go and turned back into the ballroom.
—————————–
“I cannot believe you declined, Isabella!”
Isabella turned back towards her brother, “Did you not see that Mr. Bertram is here?”
“What of it?”
“Mr. Rushworth may be rich, but Mr. Bertram will inherit a title. Does not Lady Bertram sound very well?”
John rolled his eyes, “Isabella, a bird in the hand. Do you not remember how this turned out last time?”
“Mr. Rushworth is far less perceptive than Mr. Morland, John.”
“He’s the richest man in the room, what more could you possibly want?”
His sister smiled and her eyes lingered on her last dance partner, “There are some things that a woman as beautiful as myself desires, things that Mr. Rushworth does not have in abundance.”
“Isabella! You cannot be serious. Women are not supposed to care about such things!”
Isabella caught a quick glance at Captain Tilney. There was the perfect man. But Mr. Tom Bertram was extremely well-looking. He would do very nicely.
“Isabella, you know how many friends I had to ask to get this invitation!”
She scoffed and said in her low, silky voice, “Once I secure Bertram, we will never have to ask a favour again. Now go speak to Miss Elliot.”
“But she’s so old!”
“Now who is too picky! You are no prize yourself.”
“I am so!”
Isabella hid her laugh behind a fan, “Now please excuse me, I have a man to make love to.”
John sighed and walked towards Elizabeth Elliot. He was immediately dismissed from her presence with the most cold, withering look he had ever seen. Not even the bravado of a Thorpe could overcome such a look. He wandered off to see if any other heiress would dance with him. (Elizabeth Elliot is the daughter of a baronet, she must be rich, right?)
—————————–
“Fitzwilliam, why did you tell me to turn Mr. Rushworth down? Now I shall miss half the dances.”
Darcy turned to his sister, “I have no desire to see my sister dancing with a man of little intelligence, no sense of business, and a tarnished reputation. Dancing far too often leads to matrimony.”
“Is that the whole of your objections?” asked Mrs. Darcy archly, “I seem to recall you having a penchant for pointing out deficiencies in possible marriage partners.”
Georgiana sighed and turned away. It was rather embarrassing how her brother and his wife carried on sometimes, and in public too. She did not wait to hear her brother’s response but went and found a warm place by the fire. She was not at all disappointed by the change in activity, for one such as her, it was pleasant to have a moment to sit and think. Mr. Rushworth was the furthest subject from her mind. She was still meditating on the wholesome Mr. William Price. She hoped to meet him again soon…
—————————–
Lady Russell began, “My dear Elizabeth-”
“No,” said Elizabeth Elliot sternly. Then she arched a brow questioningly at her companion.
“Absolutely not!” snapped Lady Russell.
And that was the extent of their discussion of Rushworth.
—————————–
“Do you have any objections to Mr. Rushworth?” said Kitty, as she returned from a dance with him.
“Many, but you can choose for yourself, Kitty. I am merely here to advise you,” said Mrs. Darcy.
“What do you advise?”
“Well, I think if you could find someone with half of Mr. Rushworth’s wealth and twice his portion of intelligence, you would make a far better match.”
Kitty frowned, “He did not seem so very terrible when I danced with him.”
“Kitty, I really wish to see you married to someone you may truly esteem. I have a high opinion of your merits and Mr. Rushworth is not equal to them, twelve thousand pounds or no. Now who did you dance with before Mr. Rushworth, he seemed rather pleasant.”
“Mr. Morland. Yes, he is quite the gentleman, but he is only a clergyman and has less than a thousand a year.”
“I would rather see you with a sensible young clergyman than Mr. Rushworth, and our mother will make the best of it however you decide.”
Kitty said very softly, “I would rather dance again with Mr. Morland than anyone else.”
Elizabeth smiled and pressed her sister’s hand lovingly, “Then put Mr. Rushworth out of your head.”
—————————–
Mrs. Lucy Ferrars and Miss Anne Steele had done their very best: they had trimmed Anne’s dress with expensive pink satin ribbons (reputed to be Mr. Rushworth’s favourite), and curled her hair, and Lucy had given her sister the most careful and inclusive lesson on flirtation. And yet, it all came to nothing. Mr. Rushworth never asked Miss Steele to dance.
Anne ended up dancing only two sets, one with the kind Mr. Morland, who only wished to relieve a woman not standing up with anyone else, and the second with Mr. Thorpe. Anne thought Mr. Thorpe was a rather clever fellow, and he talked so well and so much that she hardly needed to say anything.
Lucy was rather disappointed. She would not have minded for Anne to marry wealthier than herself, as she had a great many plans for how the Rushworth fortune could be wielded to her own benefit. It was too bad she was not single herself, but then, Robert was exactly the sort of man she liked.
—————————–
“Oh Mary, we should ask Jane if you can join her in London,” cried Mrs. Bennet.
“Why, mamma?” said Mary, not looking up from her work.
“Mr. Rushworth is looking to marry!”
“Is he not the man who was only married a six-month and then divorced?”
“Yes, but it was not his fault, and besides, he has twelve thousand pounds a year! That is even better than Mr. Darcy!”
“I do not think I should like to be married to a man who has so little respect for the bonds of matrimony,” said Mary sternly.
“Mary, I do not understand you at all. I hope Kitty catches him. Would be nearly as good as a lord!” said Mrs. Bennet. Mary shrugged her shoulders and kept on sewing.
—————————–
Lady Catherine, during dinner at Rosings, said to her daughter, “Anne, I have written to Mr. Rushworth and invited him to come to Kent and pay his addresses to you.”
“Have you mother, how interesting,” said Anne, who was trying to remember if the servant standing to the left of her mother was named Sarah or Mary. It seemed to her that all servants were named either Sarah, Sally, or Mary. It was so very boring. Was it Sally? It did not really matter; the girl would probably answer to anything.
“Mr. Rushworth may have procured a divorce, but he is still a very reputable man, and I think perfectly suited to yourself. I have told him so…”
Lady Catherine continued, Anne, in a great fit of boredom and fancy, said, “Eugenia, please come here.”
The servant girl immediately rushed to attend her. Anne ordered her to move the screen, “And by the by, what is your name?” she asked.
“Harriet, ma’am.”
“Ah, that is another possible one,” said Anne. She really did wish she had a servant named Eugenia. It was such a pretty name. It would add some spice to her day.
“Yes ma’am.”
“You are right, there are many possible men who may be worthy of your hand,” Lady Catherine declared, “I have half a mind to host a ball here myself. Why, it would be a great opportunity…”
“Harriet,” Anne said in a near whisper, “will you please send a message to Miss Pope at Lady Metcalfe’s and tell her I am longing for a visit?”
Harriet nodded and left. Anne ignored everything her mother said. She had no intention of marrying. Maybe once she inherited Rosings, Miss Pope could move in? That was a pleasant idea…
—————————–
“Have you heard mother, Jane has written that a Mr. Rushworth, you recall, he was the one who had that dreadful business with his wife last year, he is about town and looking to be married! Well Jane thinks he will make some unfortunate match again, she does not think him very judicious in his method of finding a wife. I think Jane is very wise in these matters- oh! But I ought to call her Mrs. Churchill now, I am always forgetting, she has been Jane to us for so long and Mrs. Churchill- well, I will not speak ill of her. Let me read you the rest of Jane’s letter…”
—————————–
(earlier that same day)
Mrs. Penelope Clay was sitting across from Mr. Elliot at the breakfast table, both reading the newspaper. “Have you heard about this Mr. Rushworth?” said she.
“Mm,” he said, not looking away from his paper.
“I have half a mind to try for him myself,” she muttered.
Mr. Elliot laughed and put down his newspaper, “Penelope, I have the highest admiration for your skills, but you are maybe two months from confinement? I know he is reputed to be rather dense, but he cannot be that stupid.”
“That may be, but if you will not marry me and give our child a name, maybe I should find someone who will, William.”
“I have taken it under consideration,” said he, taking his newspaper back up.
Mrs. Clay made a rude gesture unseen, and then took up her own paper again.
—————————–
Mary Crawford, standing beside her brother Henry, pinched him on the arm.
“What was that for?” Henry cried.
“You know,” Mary said sternly.
“You cannot be angry that my affair has disqualified you from pursuing Mr. Rushworth. Are you? I would do everything in my power to stop you if you ever tried to marry a man like him.”
“Oh no, I would not marry Rushworth if he had twenty thousand a year and a house in Paris besides. No, I am being unfortunately reminded that your actions lost me Mr. Bertram’s brother.” She gestured at Tom, making his way down the set.
“How many times must I apologize?”
“I may never be done scolding you,” said Mary seriously. Then she pinched him again, “And that is for ruining your own chances with Fanny Price.”
“Did you not hear? She is Mrs. Bertram now,” said Henry quietly.
“I have known for a few weeks; how did you not find out sooner? But now that you do know, out of pity I will let that offence rest.”
“How gracious of you.”
She did it a third time. He glared at her, “Mary, you are tiny but you might eventually give me a bruise.”
She glared back and said, “They never would have married if you were not such an idiot.”
“Fair enough.” Henry turned to Mrs. Grant, “You are still young, care to try for Rushworth?”
Mrs. Grant laughed. She laughed so indecorously hard that in response to her brother she could only shake her head in a firm no. She laughed so hard that Mary began to worry that she would not be able to draw breath and she sent Henry to get them some water.
—————————–
The clock struck midnight and the doors of the ballroom burst open. The butler called out, “Lady Susan Martin” and in swept the beautiful and (relatively) young widow. She was dressed in the customary lavender and black trim of half-mourning and she announced rather loudly to the crowded ballroom, “I would like to be introduced to Mr. Rushworth.” There was a general gasp and then urgent whispers. Louisa Hurst ran out of the room. Everyone’s calculations had very suddenly changed…
Mrs. Lucy Ferrars walked over to her dearest friend’s side, after the general bustle had resumed. “Are you really interested in Mr. Rushworth, dearest Lady Susan?”
Lady Susan smiled slyly and in a very low voice, replied, “Of course not, my late husband left me a generous jointure, it is even up to my exacting standards. And was Sir James not very good to shoot himself while hunting right in front of his brother? There was absolutely no blame to be levelled at me!”
“I still wonder how he managed such a physical feat,” said Lucy.
“If I was to tell you half the ridiculous things that Sir James did during our marriage you would not be so surprised, but I honestly have not the time! From what I understand, he was trying to see if something was stuck in the barrel after a misfire. I would not have married him if I had not been certain of some disaster carrying him off in a year or two, but even I was taken by surprise by how quickly he obliged me.”
“And your son does well?”
“He is a very wealthy little angel.”
“Then what are you doing here?” said Lucy.
“Ah, my young friend,” said Lady Susan, with a malevolent smile, “When one is widowed, rich, and beautiful, there is nothing so amusing as stirring the pot.”
Lucy and Lady Susan shared a knowing smile. “I must see to Anne,” said Lucy, “but do not forget our appointment next week. I need to discuss a problem I’ve been having with Fanny.”
“I am at your service,” said Lady Susan with mock solemnity, and with an affectionate kiss on the cheek, the two women parted.
Four weeks later…
“Somehow, I still cannot believe that you married him.”
“It may have been a rather rash decision, but you were the one urging me to catch him.”
“That was before I had to sit through dinner with him.”
“There is no going back now.”
“Well,” said Louisa, “I suppose you could always try flirting with Mr. Crawford.”
“Do not tempt me!” said Mrs. Caroline Rushworth. “At least I have the satisfaction of knowing that I stole one away from Lady Susan.”
Louisa very kindly did not tell her sister that Lady Susan Martin had been seen about town with the recently widowed Mr. Mainwaring. It was quite clear now that she had never wanted Mr. Rushworth at all. “You outdid them all,” she said.
“Well,” Caroline said, smoothing out her wedding gown and preparing herself for what was to come, “I guess the only thing to do now is encourage him to hunt!”
FINIS
For more short stories, go here
For my crossover romance, staring Caroline Bingley, Prideful & Persuaded
For my Mansfield Park Varation, Unfairly Caught
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