Posted on: 2009-05-15

Chapter Four

The return trek to the clearing with the water pump was not as jovial as the trip to Pemberley's cave had been. Aside from the pall that had been cast by Pemberley's tears, there now seemed to be a sense of dangerous urgency to the proceedings, even if the faun now exuded a glow of excitement over the prospect that The Hero had arrived to bring warmth and sunshine to his world, which during his entire lifetime had been blanketed with snow. Lizzy found it very likely that Mr. Darcy had arrived in Darcinia - he could have seen her enter the wardrobe, she thought, and if he had come in after her, he may have discovered this place as well. Still, in spite of all the incredible things that she had seen and experienced since climbing into Miss Bingley's wardrobe and pushing her way through the voluminous dresses into a new world, Lizzy could not quite make herself believe that the warmth of love in Mr. Darcy's heart had brought springtime there along with him. Though admitting to herself that she did not know Mr. Darcy very well yet, she was certain that he felt no love for Miss Bingley, and probably not for anyone else, either. However, if Mr. Darcy was now in Darcinia as well, Lizzy knew it could only be to her benefit to find him - her own position there, due to the beliefs of the inhabitants, was not a safe one, and she would be glad of any help in finding her way back home.

Lizzy was glad that Pemberley had decided to help her, since the landscape was now completely altered from the way it had looked when she had walked the same path before. She was certain that she would not have been able to find her way, and was not insensible to the gratitude she should feel to the faun for helping her at his own risk. She could not really feel any danger, though, walking through the warm, lovely woods, alive with birdsong and wildflowers, and so Lizzy soon lost all such dire thoughts in the beauty of the day, and was thus surprised when Pemberley suddenly stopped, a look of alarm gripping his countenance.

"Someone is there! I can hear water - someone is pumping water from the pump!"

Pemberley was unwilling to go any further (fearing it might be the queen, even though she would never deign to pump water for herself) and wanted very much for Lizzy to return with him to his cave. She refused, however, and thanking him as profoundly as she could in a whisper, she watched him scurry back into the forest.

Once she was alone, Lizzy did begin to feel some qualms about entering the clearing, but she knew she must proceed, so, very quietly she crept around a pine tree and looked to see who was there. It was a man, and he was, indeed, pumping water from the curiously placed pump, but even more curious was the fact that the man was pumping it over his own head! He was wearing breeches and a white shirt which had become plastered to his body by the soaking, and he had dark hair. Presently, he stopped pumping and stood up, throwing his head back in a spray of water droplets, and revealing to Lizzy that he was a tall man, and muscular, and when he turned around, wiping the water from his eyes and running his fingers through his dripping hair, Lizzy was startled to find that she knew him.

"Mr. Darcy!" she cried, almost involuntarily, as she stepped from behind the tree.

Mr. Darcy was clearly startled as well, and if the blush suffusing his cheeks was any indication, somewhat embarrassed. He had grown quite overheated during his hike, and succumbed to the temptation of the cooling water when he finally found his way back to where he had started. To be surprised in such a state of dishevelment by Miss Bennet, herself looking just as hot, muddy and gloriously beautiful as she had when she appeared in the Netherfield breakfast parlor only days before, rendered Mr. Darcy speechless for some time as he drank in the vision of her bright, fine eyes, rosy cheeks, and the tumbling waves of hair down her back.

"Miss Bennet!" he was finally able to say, and he grabbed his coat, waistcoat and cravat from the ground where he had left them during his impromptu ablutions. Before he was able to reach her side, though, pounding hoof beats were heard and, though he could not believe what he was seeing, Mr. Darcy watched aghast as a centaur wearing a starched white shirt, neatly tied cravat, silk embroidered waistcoat, and black frock coat on his human torso grabbed Miss Bennet so quickly that one of her shoes was left behind in the mud, tossed her over his shoulder, and galloped off into the woods.

Though still unable to believe what he had just seen, Mr. Darcy reacted quickly, grabbing Miss Bennet's shoe out of the mud and running in the direction the centaur had gone. He was caught off guard, though, when he heard more hoof beats thundering behind him, and was himself suddenly grabbed around the waist and hauled off his feet by another of the galloping mythological beasts.

"Unhand me, you -" Darcy cried out, struggling to free himself, but his position did not allow for an effective defense. Eventually, despite his humiliation at being dragged off in such a way, he ceased to struggle, reasoning that if the creature were to drop him, he could be trampled and badly injured, and that he was, in all likelihood, at least being taken to wherever Miss Bennet was being taken, and considering that finding her was him primary objective, he should acquiesce at least for the moment in the interest of being reunited with her at journey's end, even if every moment they were carried farther and farther away from the probable location of the pathway back to Netherfield.

The centaur galloped on with admirable speed, such that even though the journey lasted but a quarter of an hour, Darcy felt certain that they had traveled several miles from the clearing with the water pump. Still, due to the speed of travel and the warmth of the day, Darcy's hair and clothes were completely dry by the time the centaur stopped and set him back on his feet. Darcy quickly stepped away from the great beast, overwhelmed with a number of thoughts all at once as his abductor, strangely, bowed reverently to him and backed away into a throng of other creatures just as strange and unbelievable as he. Darcy and his captor had come out of the woods at the top of a grassy knoll overlooking a large meadow filled with a profusion of gaily colored tents. There were more centaurs there, along with other creatures that Darcy had previously believed belonged only in ancient myths and fairy tales - he could see fauns, and fairies, and sphinxes, and satyrs, and a variety of other beings he did not recognize from any myth or story, but all being part human and part some other animal or, in some cases, part plant. All of the males were dressed in the same manner as the centaurs who had seized Miss Bennet and himself, and all of the females dressed in flowing gowns, which were very awkward for some of the creatures. The vast crowd grew silent and turned to look at him. Darcy felt very self conscious as the focus of their intent stares, and embarrassed at his extremely rumpled state. But more crucial and worrisome was the fact that he could not see Miss Bennet anywhere among the crowd - in fact, he could not see any other humans at all. He felt a moment of panic at having lost Miss Bennet after all; he began to despair of ever finding her and returning to Netherfield, when suddenly, hearing his name called, he turned to see her rushing through the crowd towards him, a look of profound relief on her face. The sight of her, her hair flying behind her, her expression eager in a way that he had never before seen directed towards himself, took his breath away.
"Miss Bennet, are you well? You have not been harmed?" he quickly asked her when she reached him, taking her hands in both of his own and peering intently into her eyes.

"I am well enough in body for the moment, but I am afraid, Mr. Darcy, that -" Lizzy began to say when she was interrupted by the booming voice of a particularly large and fierce, if regal looking centaur.

"BEHOLD! THE DARCY!" he bellowed, and all of the crowd of creatures immediately bowed towards Mr. Darcy with great reverence.

"BEHOLD! ELIZA BENNET!" the great beast cried out again, and this time the courtesies offered were accompanied by curious glances and much whispering among the crowd.

"Miss Bennet, do you know what is going on here?" Mr. Darcy asked with amazement.

"Mr. Darcy, I have much to acquaint you with, but I think I must wait until I can find a way to speak with you alone," Lizzy sighed.

"Well, I am most relieved that I have found you, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy said with a look that showed every bit his sincerity.

"Really, Mr. Darcy, you do take a little game of sardines very seriously," Lizzy retorted with raised eyebrows, causing Mr. Darcy to laugh in spite of himself.

When the great mass of mythological admirers had finished paying homage to Darcy and Lizzy, Mr. Darcy managed to convey to the centaurs, who, though they seemed to be in a position of authority, were most deferential towards Mr. Darcy and Lizzy, that he and Lizzy required some privacy to discuss a few things, and an opportunity to clean themselves up a bit. The two of them were ushered respectfully into a very grand, blue and white striped tent with a flag flying above it that seemed to depict an intertwined E and D. The inside of the tent had several screens that partitioned off small rooms, with a central space that held two velvet sofas piled with pillows and resting atop an intricately patterned carpet. Lizzy and Darcy were followed into the tent by two fairies who each supported one side of a heavily laden tea tray, which they placed on a low table between the sofas.

Mr. Darcy escorted Lizzy to a seat, and then gestured to the two fairies that they could leave before turning to face Lizzy again. The fairies performed a funny sort of little aerial curtsey, and flew towards the entrance of the opulent tent, and Lizzy and Darcy were each overtaken by feelings of awkwardness and shyness, until Mr. Darcy suddenly realized that he was still holding Lizzy's shoe, which he had plucked from the mud just before being hauled away himself.

"Please, allow me," he said in a rush, as he knelt to help her put it on.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," Lizzy muttered with a most becoming flush of her cheeks that rendered him unable to stand, move, or even breathe for a few moments. The confusion of both was increased by the swooning sighs of the two departing fairies.

Acutely aware of his improper state of dress, particularly while alone with a young lady, Mr. Darcy hastened to put his waistcoat and coat back on, noticing with chagrin that he had apparently lost his neck cloth as he was being carried off through the woods. Lizzy averted her attention while he tried to make himself presentable, and poured tea for the two of them. Eventually they found themselves seated across the small tea table from one another on the plush sofas, both tired, hot, disheveled, self-conscious, and, to differing degrees, confused about finding themselves there.

"I gather, Miss Bennet, that you have some idea where we are, and what is going on around here?" Mr. Darcy eventually broke the silence.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy, I have managed to discover some information, although what I have to tell you will be difficult to believe," Lizzy replied.

Mr. Darcy raised one eyebrow at her and, with a wry grin, rejoined, "I have just recently been abducted by a centaur, Miss Bennet. I think that you will be hard pressed to tell me anything anymore that I will find incredible."

"I see your point," Lizzy said with a smile. "Very well, then, we are in a land called Darcinia," Lizzy began, telling him everything that Pemberley had told her, and all that she had experienced since she arrived in the snowy glade. Mr. Darcy watched her all the while with a steadfast gaze, betraying no emotion, not even surprise, at any detail of her tale. He continued silent for a few moments when she had finished.

"You were right, Miss Bennet, under normal circumstances that would all be difficult to believe, but it seems we must accept it all as fact - at least, as what all of these... inhabitants... take as fact. It is clear that the... group outside are aware of who we are - do you know why they have carried us here?" Mr. Darcy said.

"No indeed, sir. I can almost understand them taking you, if they think you are here to save their land, but I cannot account for their treatment of me. I am supposedly believed to be a nefarious threat to their queen. It would make sense that they would capture me, but I cannot consider their... reception of me just now as one of hostility. I am at a loss to explain it - Pemberley gave me to understand that to the citizens of Darcinia -"

"Please, do not say that word, Miss Bennet."

"What word?"

"That... name you keep using for this... country."

"But, that is the name of this country - what am I to call it if I do not call it Darcinia?"

"I do not know, Carolinia, Bingleyana, this place, anything but Darcinia!" Mr. Darcy betrayed uncharacteristic frustration.

"I would think that to be worshipped by a whole country, and to have that country named after you would be a great source of pride, Mr. Darcy," Lizzy teased with a small smile she was unable to repress.

"Well then, Miss Bennet, you give me credit for a great deal more pride - and vanity - than I possess," he grumbled in response. "I am glad you are able to find this all so amusing. Nevertheless, it would appear that what we must do is find Miss Bingley, who no doubt will figure out where we have disappeared to and follow us, and then we can get her to show us the way back to Netherfield, where I swear I will never play another game that is NOT centered around either a deck of cards or a billiard table ever again."

Lizzy truly could not resist laughing at this, which caused Mr. Darcy's heart to make a peculiar leap in his chest - he had never made her laugh before - but she also could not agree with his plan.

"Mr. Darcy, I am not sure that finding Miss Bingley is such a wise thing to do - at least for me. Pemberley gave me to understand that Miss Bingley's plans to secure you for some reason include precautions in case I should ever come to Dar... or rather, this place. Do you know, Mr. Darcy, I am forced to believe that Miss Bingley is, well, not quite right in the head! Imagine her thinking that I am somehow a threat to her efforts to attach you. Really, why would she ever think that I would come to Darcinia in the first place?"

Mr. Darcy had listened to Lizzy's diatribe with a peculiar look on his face.

"Miss Bennet."

"Yes?"

"You ARE in... Darcinia."

"Yes, I am aware of that, Mr. Darcy."

"Well, I am merely pointing out that Miss Bingley's... paranoia, if you will, seems justified. And though our arrival here seems to be accidental, I suspect that Miss Bingley meant to lure us both here eventually."

"Well then you see, I cannot go to Miss Bingley!"

"Miss Bennet, in spite of what everyone here thinks, and the evidence of her rather unfortunate personality, Miss Bingley is not a witch. She cannot hurt you, and even if she were to try, you cannot possibly believe that I would allow her. Please, just trust me. I have known Miss Bingley for years. If she had any power over me, do you not think I would have married her long ago? And she can have no power over you, either."

"But that is in OUR world - perhaps she does have some power here, perhaps what they all say is true. After all, the endless winter turned to spring when you arrived!"

"Miss Bennet, trust me, you will soon see that Caroline Bingley is just the same here as she is everywhere else."

Caroline Bingley was fuming. She was no country girl; to her the idea of even stirring out of doors beyond a nicely tended gravel garden path was completely out of the question, and a three mile hike through the mud was a fit exercise only for hoydens like Miss Eliza Bennet. And yet, here she was, in her own kingdom, forced to travel on foot through three miles of mud to reach her own palace. She wondered in her fury if it would be possible to bring a horse up to her bedchamber at Netherfield and through the wardrobe to Darcinia. If the winter was truly over, her reindeer-pulled sleigh would no longer be of use, and Caroline had no intention of repeating this day's exercise. One of those centaurs would simply be compelled to carry her henceforth. They would not like it, but perhaps now they would finally be convinced that she told the truth, now that Mr. Darcy's appearance in Darcinia had done what she said it would - it had melted the snow and brought the warmth of the sun to a land that by their own reckoning had not seen spring in over a hundred years, though by Caroline's calendar it had merely been a matter of weeks - the duration of her sojourn at Netherfield. It was unfortunate that Mr. Darcy had managed to end up in Darcinia by accident, instead of in the carefully orchestrated manner that Caroline had planned, which would have given the populace the impression that his love for her was the cause of their deliverance from winter; it was even more unfortunate that Eliza Bennet had apparently come as well, but there still remained a chance to give Mr. Darcy the potion, and as for Eliza Bennet... she would learn not to bewitch the man Caroline Bingley planned to marry.

Caroline screamed in frustration as a cold rain began to fall.

Chapter Five

At length Lizzy and Mr. Darcy were given a chance to clean themselves up a bit - a small parade of fauns brought in buckets of hot water, and Mr. Darcy and Lizzy were each led into one of the small, partitioned-off rooms in the tent to afford them some privacy. They were each brought a selection of clothes in the hopes of finding something that might fit them - Darcy only needed a clean shirt and a new neck cloth, as his waistcoat and coat were still in tolerable condition. Lizzy had to try on several dresses before she found one that would serve; it was long enough, and fit in the bodice, but the sleeves were ridiculously long. Lizzy wondered for what manner of creature the dress had been made. Unfortunately, there were no shoes to replace the wet and muddy ones Lizzy wore. Aside from Miss Bingley, there were apparently no other human beings in Darcinia, and no other creatures with comparable feet. Lizzy speculated as she tried to rearrange her hair into some semblance of order, that perhaps the fact that there were no other humans in the country accounted for Miss Bingley having convinced the Darcinians that she had magic powers and should rule their land - though she could not figure out how Miss Bingley had instituted a state of perpetual winter, nor how Mr. Darcy's presence there had brought the spring - if, in fact, it was his presence that had done so.

In any case, it was clear that Miss Bingley had influenced the fashions of Darcinia - every male creature was dressed, as much as their shapes would allow, just like Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy recognized many elements of current fashion from her own world in the dresses worn by the female population. It did look a bit odd to see a centaur in a frock coat, but Lizzy assumed that Miss Bingley found it offensive for those of her subjects who had partly human forms to walk about bare-chested. The thought of Miss Bingley's consternation upon first seeing them made Lizzy laugh to herself. Even in the midst of confusion and danger, she could not help taking delight in the absurdities of the place. After all, Elizabeth Bennet was not formed for ill-humor.

When Lizzy and Mr. Darcy emerged from their private enclaves refreshed and re-clothed, they found a delegation of Darcinians waiting for them. All of the creatures once again bowed very low, and Lizzy was amused to see how uncomfortable Mr. Darcy was with their obeisance. Only when he and Lizzy had again taken their seats beside each other on one of the the sofas, which Lizzy took to be a protective gesture on Mr. Darcy's part, did the others rise from their positions of homage, and all of them then proceeded to take seats either on cushions or on the floor all about the large tent. Lizzy looked around at the group and saw that there were several centaurs, a few fauns, a few satyrs, some fairies who hovered above their heads near the top of the tent, a sphinx who sat near the door speaking to no one and eyeing her keenly, and a few of the plant-like beings who Lizzy speculated might be dryads.

If Lizzy and Darcy thought that any of them had come to answer their questions they were soon disabused of that notion; the Darcinians had come with their own agenda.

The centaur who had introduced Lizzy and Darcy to the crowd remained standing as all of the others sat, and, signaling for everyone to be silent, addressed the two humans.

"Oh, Great Darcy, and Most Beloved Eliza Bennet, we welcome you to Darcinia with great joy, pride and gratitude. Your love has ended the tyranny of The Witch of Darcinia, and your courage will drive her from our land. Too long have we suffered from the icy winter of her cold heart, and now we rejoice as we usher in a new age of prosperity and love, as represented by your two noble personages."

All of the assembled Darcinians once again bowed to the two humans; Lizzy could think of no way to respond to such a speech, and Mr. Darcy merely looked thoughtful. The centaur began to speak again.

"For over a hundred years Darcinia has been subject to the anger and venom of the witch who calls herself our queen. She has poisoned the minds of the citizenry with her lies, telling tales of how The Darcy's love for her would bring the spring back to our world. But we have discovered the truth - the witch will use trickery to entrap The Darcy, and woo him from his one true love, Eliza Bennet. This must not happen. Now The Darcy has come, and it is time for our forces to take action to overthrow the witch, and expel her from Darcinia. Great Darcy, we are here to assist you in your battle against the witch and her forces. We are eager to serve you, and help you in protecting your true love."
Lizzy grew more and more astonished as the centaur continued his speech - were they all mad? She could understand the rationale behind the stories that Miss Bingley had made up - well, almost; she could not understand why Miss Bingley had brought her name into it - but how could these creatures have come up with the absurd notion that Lizzy was Mr. Darcy's true love? And they wanted Mr. Darcy to go to battle over her? Lizzy was at a loss for what to say to convince them that she had nothing to do with any of this, and that all she needed was for someone to point her in the direction of home, and she would never trouble them again. She noticed that the sun was setting; it would soon be dark, they would be missed at Netherfield, and Jane, poor, sick Jane would be frantic with worry.

"Mr. Darcy, you must say something!" Lizzy hissed at him in a fierce whisper, annoyed that he seemed so unperturbed by what the centaur had said.

"What is your name, sir?" Mr. Darcy calmly asked the centaur.

"I am called Fitzwilliam, Great Darcy," the centaur replied with another deep bow, clearly honored to have been asked his name. Mr. Darcy lifted one eyebrow upon hearing it.

"Fitzwilliam," he addressed the centaur, "Please desist in calling me Great Darcy, or The Darcy. You must call me Mr. Darcy. And my companion, you shall call Miss Bennet, if you please. And I insist that in my presence you call the queen by her proper name, Miss Bingley. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Darcy."

"Very good. Now, I must express to you my displeasure that I and Miss Bennet having been abducted and brought here against our wills. Kindly explain this behavior."

Fitzwilliam looked chastened by Mr. Darcy's disapproval. "We meant no disrespect, Mr. Darcy, we brought you here for your own protection. The witch - I mean, Miss Bingley has arrived in Darcinia once again, and we had to be sure that neither you nor Miss Bennet fell into her power."

"Under what authority do you make the decision of what is in our best interest in this manner?" Mr. Darcy asked with some small degree of annoyance.

"We are the Cult of Eliza, the believers in the union of The Darcy and Eliza Bennet as the source of joy and prosperity in all Darcinia." Mr. Darcy cast an amused glance at a blushing Lizzy upon hearing this pronouncement, and continued to stare at her with an unreadable expression as Fitzwilliam continued, "The followers of this belief have all taken an oath to protect The Darcy and Eliza Bennet, and when the time comes, assist you in your battle against the witch... Miss Bingley. That time is now, Mr. Darcy."

"I have no intention of waging a battle against Miss Bingley. In fact, it so happens that she is apparently the only one who knows the way for Miss Bennet and I to return home, so it is rather imperative that we see Miss Bingley immediately."

Lizzy wondered why Mr. Darcy did not make clear to them all that he was not, in fact, in love with her, and that there would be no union between them. She was torn between telling them herself what a ridiculous notion it was, and continuing to listen to Mr. Darcy's fascinatingly unperturbed discourse with Fitzwilliam the centaur.

"But Mr. Darcy," Fitzwilliam said with dismay, "You must lead our forces against Miss Bingley!"

"I beg your pardon, but I shall not. A gentleman, when faced with unwanted attentions from a lady, does not ride to war against her," Mr. Darcy said with all the cool arrogance Lizzy was used to see from him.

"Oh? And what does he do?" Lizzy asked Mr. Darcy in an undertone as Fitzwilliam and the others murmured to each other with disheartened expressions.

"He politely ignores her until she gets the hint," he replied in a similarly low voice.

"Really? Even if she has overthrown an entire country as part of a nefarious plot to force him to marry her?" Lizzy bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Well, in such a case the gentleman might be forced to have a word with the lady's brother, and perhaps suggest that all of the lady's bedroom furniture -particularly her wardrobe - be replaced."

Lizzy was forced to laugh aloud at this conclusion, and she was surprised, and strangely delighted, to see that Mr. Darcy's lips turned up in a small smile. He was enjoying this! No one else seemed to see anything humorous in the situation, though, and a clearly perplexed Fitzwilliam spoke again.

"Mr. Darcy, would you condemn us to suffer the tyranny of Miss Bingley, and abandon us to the certain return of ice and snow for eternity? Are you and Miss Bennet not to depose her and rule Darcinia in her stead?" he asked with evident pain at the perceived betrayal of his hero. Though she knew that she and Mr. Darcy could not even contemplate doing what they asked, Lizzy felt a strange compassion for the Darcinians, and wondered how Mr. Darcy would respond, and whether the creatures, who far outnumbered them, would accept his answer.

"Certainly not. Miss Bennet and I do not belong in Darcinia any more than Miss Bingley does. I must return to... my own kingdom of Pemberley." Murmurs passed through the assembly at this statement, and Lizzy averted her face to hide her smile. "And Miss Bennet must return to her family - her sister is very ill and requires her presence at Netherfield." Lizzy felt a pang at the thought of poor Jane, and how she must be suffering now with worry as well as her illness. "As for Miss Bingley," Mr. Darcy continued, "We shall bring her back with us, and she shall be confined to Netherfield, and I make you my promise that she shall never again pollute the shades of Darcinia with her presence. Therefore, you must assist Miss Bennet and I in finding Miss Bingley right away."

There was silence among the Darcinians. They seemed disappointed and uncertain. For her part, Lizzy was still confused at Mr. Darcy's failure to explain to them the reality of their antagonistic relationship. And they expected her to stay in Darcinia and rule the country with Mr. Darcy? Absurd!

When no one spoke, Mr. Darcy drew himself up and said with great hauteur, "Do you doubt my word?"

"No, Mr. Darcy," Fitzwilliam said sadly.

"After all, did I not banish winter and bring springtime back to Darcinia?"

Lizzy could not help but notice that tiny grimace on Mr. Darcy's face every time he said the name of the country.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy, and we are eternally grateful. We shall do as you ask, and can only hope that you will allow us to serve you in any way necessary while you remain in Darcinia," Fitzwilliam replied with great reverence.

"Very well then. Kindly lead us to Miss Bingley."

"I am afraid that is impossible at the moment, Mr. Darcy."

"What?" Lizzy blurted out. "But it is almost dark out!" She turned to Mr. Darcy. "I must get back to Netherfield. Jane will be frantic!"

Mr. Darcy reached over and took her hand in his, consolingly. "Do not distress yourself, Miss Bennet. If my suspicions are correct, no one at Netherfield will even realize that we are gone, even if we do not return tonight."

"What do you mean?" Lizzy asked, not yet consoled by his assurance.

"I will explain later, if we can find a moment alone," Mr. Darcy replied, glancing at the assembled Darcinians, and lowering his voice so that only Lizzy could hear him. "In the meantime, I hope that you will just trust me that all will be well."

Lizzy was struck by something in Mr. Darcy's countenance that told her that he sincerely believed what he said, and she was strangely comforted by that look. There was something else, though, in his eyes, that she could not read, and that made her blush when she realized that Mr. Darcy still held her hand in his. Lizzy held his gaze; she could not look away.

Fitzwilliam, who had been waiting politely during this exchange, finally broke the connection between them.

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Darcy, and Miss Bennet, but it is because it is almost dark that we must wait until tomorrow to take you to Miss Bingley - it is many miles to the palace, and there is no moon tonight. It would be difficult and unsafe to make the journey before morning. We will see to your safety and comfort until then. In the meantime, Mr. Darcy, Miss Bennet, a banquet has been prepared in your honor. Will you condescend to join your faithful followers and dine with us?"

"Thank you, the honor is ours," Lizzy said with a quick glance back at Mr. Darcy, and he smiled his acceptance as well before standing and offering a hand to Lizzy.

"Kindly lead the way, Fitzwilliam," Mr. Darcy said, which was the cue for all the Darcinians to stand and make way for Fitzwilliam to lead them out of the tent into the darkening evening.

Caroline was drenched and exhausted by the time she reached the palace, and her disposition was as foul as the weather. Upon arrival the worries that had plagued her since Derbyshire had arrived in a state of confusion in the pine grove were confirmed - neither Eliza Bennet nor Mr. Darcy had been seen, and they were not at the palace, as they should have been if her orders had been carried out regarding their appearance in Darcinia. Although the spring-like weather had caused a rumor to circulate through the palace that The Darcy had come to Darcinia, no one could confirm his presence, or supply information regarding his or Eliza Bennet's whereabouts. Miss Bingley immediately began to issue orders the moment she was inside the great entrance hall, and the unfortunate faun Derbyshire, who had endured Caroline's temper for the duration of the long trek, was grateful to finally be allowed to escape her presence in order to do her bidding. Caroline demanded a hot bath, clean clothes, hot tea, food, wine, and for fires to be lit in the fireplaces of her chambers and the throne room, and then, when fauns and fairies were scattering in all directions to carry out her requests, she made one more.

"I need to speak to Moira as soon as possible, and summon Pemberley to me... now. "

Chapter Six

Posted on: 2009-05-22

The banquet in honor of The Most Beloved Eliza Bennet and The Great Darcy was a festive, lively affair. Long tables were set up in the field beyond the tents, and the clear, balmy Darcinian night was lit by myriad brightly colored paper lanterns. The food was plentiful and satisfying, if simple, fare, and Lizzy was impressed to be served such a meal in the midst of what must have been a hastily assembled encampment. She wondered how long preparations had been underway for the expected arrival of herself and Mr. Darcy in Darcinia; from all that she had heard, their coming had been hopefully awaited for generations, as impossible and paradoxical as that seemed. That they were welcome was undeniable - the Darcinians there assembled were clearly overjoyed to see them, and proud to be accorded the honor of attending such an auspicious event as the feast to welcome The Darcy and Eliza Bennet. Numerous toasts were offered, and Lizzy could not help but be amused at Mr. Darcy's evident embarrassment every time a glass was raised in their honor. Lizzy and Mr. Darcy were seated next to each other in elaborately carved, almost throne-like chairs at the head of one of the long tables. Fitzwilliam the centaur sat beside Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy could see that the sphinx who had been watching her so keenly during the meeting in the tent continued to gaze at her in silence.

Mr. Darcy hardly spoke during dinner, except for an occasional question put to Fitzwilliam. Lizzy was not surprised that he did not participate more in the general conversation, although he did not give the impression, as he generally did in the neighborhood of Meryton, of being displeased with his company. Instead he merely seemed absorbed in his own thoughts. Lizzy, however, being of a more gregarious, sociable nature, and determined to find out all she could about the strange land in which she was currently stranded, asked many questions of the various beings who sat close enough to join into conversation with her. She began by asking the name of the little fairy who sat, or rather, hovered above the seat next to her.

"My name is Eliza," the fairy bashfully told her.

Lizzy was initially surprised; considering the role she was believed to play in the fate of Darcinia it seemed unlikely that anyone would name their child Eliza, but then the eponymous fairy explained that officially, her name was Caroline, but that her parents had secretly called her Eliza, and they were very proud when she had gone to join the group of Eliza Loyalists bent on protecting Eliza Bennet whenever she finally arrived in Darcinia. Lizzy questioned Eliza about why, if Caroline had spread the tale that she was evil, were so many Darcinians convinced otherwise and eager to help her?

"Have you ever heard the expression, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'? The Witch - I am sorry, Miss Bingley -" Eliza said with a nervous glance at Mr. Darcy, which Lizzy mirrored, noting a smirk just lifting the corners of his mouth, "As I was saying, Miss Bingley is widely disliked - well, hated - in Darcinia. After all, it is the coldness of her heart that kept it winter for so long; even when she would go back to her kingdom of Netherfield, the winter remained. People slowly began to realize that they did not want a queen with a heart of ice, and doubted that The Darcy - sorry, Mr. Darcy - would really fall in love with her. Eventually it began to make sense that the reason that Miss Bingley hated Eliza Bennet - you - was because Mr. Darcy loves her, and she would probably be the opposite of Miss Bingley - warm hearted, friendly, kind - and now we know it is true!" Eliza finished with a triumphant grin.

Elizabeth stole another look at Mr. Darcy, silent beside her, and wondered anew why he did not correct the misconception the Darcinians held regarding his feelings for her, but as he did not choose to say anything, she did not either. She determined, however, to ask him about it as soon as she had a chance to speak to him alone; if he had some kind of strategy for dealing with their predicament, she had best know what it was, if only to make sure it was something she agreed with - as unlikely as that seemed.

Further conversation revealed an amusing circumstance - seated at the table near them, in addition to the fairy Eliza, were three Fitzwilliams, two Pemberleys, one Derbyshire, a London, a Caroline who chose instead to be called Eli, two Georgianas, a poor, unfortunate faun named Grosvenor Square, a Longbourn who was officially named Bingley - to whom Mr. Darcy offered the remark that Bingley was actually a fine name for which he held great respect - and a Zephyr - upon hearing which Mr. Darcy informed Lizzy sotto voce, and much to her amusement, that Zephyr was the name of his horse. She, in return, had a question to ask him.

"Mr. Darcy, would I be correct in surmising that your given name is Fitzwilliam?"

"It is," he answered with a small cringe of embarrassment.

"Do you not find it awkward to keep addressing another by your own name?"

"Not at all - almost no one ever calls me that."

"No one?"

"My mother used to, and my sister does at times, but my friends and most of my relations call me Darcy. It is my cousin, on my mother's side, who is called Fitzwilliam, as that is his surname - it can be very confusing at family gatherings." Mr. Darcy surprised Lizzy with a smile at this, and though she shared his amusement, and felt oddly privileged that he had shared such a personal detail, she felt a little sad for him that he had such a formal relationship with everyone he knew, even his close friends and family. After all, almost everyone close to her called her Lizzy. She concluded that it must be owing to his arrogant, aloof nature, and turned her attention back to her other companions.
Lizzy marveled at the degree of control Miss Bingley had over the lives of her subjects, what with their names, attire, and who knew what else evidently being matters of royal control, and mused on what a dangerous thing it would be for England if Miss Bingley ever carried her delusions of grandeur out of the closet.

After dinner came music and dancing, and Lizzy was amazed once again on seeing that the dances were all ones she knew, though she then realized that Miss Bingley must have introduced them to her subjects. She laughed to herself at the mental image of Miss Bingley trying to teach the Darcinians, in all of their various shapes and sizes, how to dance. The spectacle of a gavotte danced by centaurs was astounding, but the most astonishing moment of all for Lizzy was when Mr. Darcy stood, drained his wineglass, bowed to her, and, holding out his hand to her, asked her to dance the next with him. So stunned was she by his request that Lizzy accepted without remembering her vow never to dance with Mr. Darcy. Stares and murmurs followed them as they walked hand-in-hand to the dance floor laid out on the grass of the clearing. Lizzy was sure she could not remember another moment in her life when she had felt more self-conscious.

The music began and Lizzy and Darcy stepped forward under the delighted scrutiny of all. Even the other dancers stole looks at them whenever the pattern of the dance allowed, and there were many missteps and injured feet among them. Lizzy was at first at a loss for words, and her partner seemed to feel no inclination to break the silence between them, but presently recalling quite vividly a brief conversation she and Mr. Darcy had shared at the Meryton assembly, Lizzy decided to tax him with it.

"I thought you did not care to dance, Mr. Darcy?"

"Generally, I do dislike the exercise."

"So why did you ask me? Did you feel that you 'could not help it'?"

Mr. Darcy chuckled, and Lizzy was surprised to see it. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I just wanted to make it harder for you to ignore me the way you always do."

Lizzy raised an eyebrow at this shocking statement. "Do I ignore you? I had not noticed," she replied archly, to a hearty laugh from her dance partner.

The steps of the dance separated them then, and Lizzy, realizing that she had something to ask Mr. Darcy and might not have another chance at such relative privacy, whispered as the dance brought them close again in circling each other, "Mr. Darcy, why do you not tell them all that you do not love me?"

The pattern separated them again immediately, and it was some time before Mr. Darcy was again close enough to reply, and Lizzy noted in the interim that he looked most uncomfortable.

"Why should I do that, Miss Bennet?" he asked when he finally had a chance.

"Because you do not! They should not be suffered to continue in this misconception - they may have expectations that we will not be able to meet. Even if you do not want to tell them how much you dislike me, you could at least convince them you are indifferent."

"Indifferent? Dislike you?" Mr. Darcy frowned. "Miss Bennet, why would you think that I dislike you?"

"It has been obvious since the first time we met, Mr. Darcy! Everyone knows it - except Miss Bingley, evidently. I am sorry to say you have not been very successful at hiding your feelings."

The dance separated them again, putting a halt to their whispered conversation, and Lizzy saw that Mr. Darcy was upset. She regretted telling him that all of Meryton knew of his disdain for her, but really, as he had been so obvious about it, he should not be surprised that people had noticed. Mr. Darcy's discomposure caused him to miss a turn, nearly colliding with another dancer, an uncharacteristic mistake for someone who, though he disliked it, was so obviously skilled at the art.

"Miss Bennet, I find that it is you who are laboring under a misconception. I do not dislike you, nor am I indifferent to you; far from it, in fact. I am sorry that I gave you that impression. Believe me, it was unintentional, and I cannot understand how it could have occurred. I hope to afford you more clarity in the future."

Lizzy was glad that they were forced apart again, as she did not know how to respond to such a declaration. What did he mean - 'far from it'? When the dance brought them back together, Lizzy found she could not respond, and, looking into Mr. Darcy's eyes, found herself captured there, while her surroundings began to recede. They danced in a world of their own, as if everyone else had ceased to exist. Lizzy could not read Mr. Darcy's expression - she had been misreading him all along, it seemed, and now she had no idea what emotions were conveyed by that steadfast gaze. She noticed for the first time how intensely blue his eyes were, chastising herself for the rapid beating of her heart that this discovery engendered.

The spell was broken when the music ended, and all the other dancers, and the spectators as well, began to applaud. Lizzy curtseyed to Mr. Darcy and he bowed in return, and then offered his hand to escort her back to her chair. Lizzy could not bring herself to look at him now; she was mortified at having offended him in such a way, and angry with herself for feeling mortified. Why should she care? Whatever he may say now, Mr. Darcy's manners to her had always been haughty and disdainful - had he not declared her only tolerable, and not handsome enough to dance with? He had been different in Darcinia, it was true, but perhaps he was playing a part for the Darcinians? Or could there be something about Darcinia itself that changed him? There was some kind of magic in the very essence of the place, and Miss Bingley's behavior when she came here was evidence that it could make a person behave most peculiarly - or perhaps, make someone behave as the most extreme version of themselves? But Lizzy did not feel that she had been affected herself, and it still did not provide an explanation of Mr. Darcy. No, Lizzy would have to wait until they truly were alone to find out what he meant.

When Lizzy and Mr. Darcy had regained their seats Fitzwilliam the centaur stood and signaled for silence. Apparently, ceremonies were planned for the eventual arrival of The Hero and Eliza Bennet, rites which had been conceived and choreographed in the hopes that all that the Darcinians of the Cult of Eliza had been taught to believe would one day come true.

Sadly, the ceremony began with a very long speech on the part of Fitzwilliam, which Lizzy did not care to give much of her attention. It had been a long day, and all she wanted was to be home in her own bed, where she could forget that any of this had happened. Lizzy sighed as the centaur's oration went on and on. Perhaps none of it really was happening, perhaps she was really asleep in a chair in Jane's room at Netherfield, having succumbed to exhaustion from caring for her sick sister. Lizzy sighed quietly; no, that was not the case. Jane was too sick to leave her bed, but she slept well at night, and indeed, for much of the day, and so Lizzy's rest was undisturbed and her nursing duties not terribly taxing. If anything, her lack of proper exercise since her arrival at Netherfield - and the less than stimulating company there - had made her restless instead of exhausted. Much as she was loath to admit it to herself for many reasons, Lizzy had to accept that she really had been transported via Miss Bingley's wardrobe to the strange land of Darcinia, where half the population hated her, and the rest regarded her as some sort of romantic heroine. And then there was Mr. Darcy who completely defied understanding. Lizzy sighed again. She longed for something, anything at all to happen on that bewildering day that made even the smallest bit of sense.

Pemberley stood before the open doors of the throne room in the palace, willing his legs to carry him forward into the room. He had been announced, and the footmen held the double doors open while looking at him with impatient expectation, and yet he could not move. She was in there, the queen had returned, and she had summoned him, and he had been forced to leave his cozy cave and go out into the torrential rain at night to answer for what he had done. He felt as if he had swallowed cold stones and they were sitting in the pit of his stomach. He had been so preoccupied with his fear as he trudged through the storm to get to the palace that he failed even to note the lightning that illuminated the forest at intervals, or even the rumbling of thunder; nor did he appreciate the feel of the rain on his face. It had been a long time since it had rained in Darcinia; it had never happened in Pemberley's lifetime. Snow, and sometimes sleet had fallen nearly every day of his life while he, along with every other Darcinian waited anxiously for the day that their world would change; now it had, and Pemberley could not enjoy it. He had defied the queen, he had disobeyed orders, he had failed in his mission.

And now she would make him pay.

"Pemberley!"

She called to him from within the throne room and he forced himself to obey her call, not even noticing the the looks of pity cast upon him by the footmen at the door.

The throne room was a very long room, and Pemberley's footsteps on the marble floor echoed among the arches and pillars. There was no furniture there except for the queen's throne on a dais at the far end. He could not bring himself to raise his eyes to her, but he knew that she would be sitting there, her posture stiff and her face proud, under an enormous stained-glass window depicting her and The Darcy arm-in-arm on a glorious, sunny hilltop. Hoping that she could not read his thoughts, Pemberley imagined smashing that window with a rock; he fervently hoped that The Darcy would not fall prey to the queen. Pemberley wished with all his might that The Darcy would marry that lovely, kind Elizabeth Bennet. Surely that would be the best thing for Darcinia, not this cold-hearted witch.

Mostly he wished that Elizabeth Bennet was well, and safe, and far away from the queen.

Pemberley stopped at the foot of the dais and bowed, waiting for the queen's permission to rise.

"Pemberley, where are Eliza Bennet and The Darcy?"

Pemberley began to shake.

At long last, to Lizzy's great relief, and, truthfully, to the relief of many others, Fitzwilliam's speech was over. Lizzy was alerted by a nudge from Mr. Darcy's elbow that something new was happening. Fitzwilliam asked Lizzy and Darcy to join him on the small platform where the musicians had been sitting during the dancing. Neither Lizzy nor Mr. Darcy particularly wanted to be a part of whatever lay in store, but they were not in a position to refuse, so Mr. Darcy offered Lizzy his arm and they made their way between the tables to the stage. The musicians, who now stood in a semicircle around the platform, played a fanfare as the two guests of honor progressed through the crowd, and the Darcinians bowed to them as they passed. Once they had made their way onstage, fairies flew to them and placed wreaths of flowers around their necks and on their heads. Mr. Darcy blushed furiously, and Lizzy laughed.

Fitzwilliam once again held up his hands for silence, and a trio of very young, and very nervous fauns arranged themselves in front of the stage and, after a great deal of frantic whispering amongst themselves, began to sing. Lizzy was entranced by their clear, sweet voices until she realized what they were singing - an ode to The Darcy and Eliza Bennet, and their great love for one another. Now it was Lizzy's turn to blush, and a glance at Mr. Darcy only made it worse, as he seemed to find her embarrassment amusing. As the three young fauns trilled on and on about her great beauty and kindness, Lizzy blushed redder and redder.

Lizzy was relieved when the song finished, but her embarrassment was not alleviated, as Mr. Darcy chose that moment to take her hand in his. He leaned towards her and whispered in her ear, "Miss Bennet, they seem to have captured your beauty and character remarkably well, considering they had nothing to go on but the lies of Miss Bingley." Lizzy was taken aback by his words, until, looking at his face, she saw the amusement writ there.

"Mr. Darcy, I had no idea you had a sense of humor," Lizzy whispered back, eliciting a chuckle from Mr. Darcy. Lizzy could not help but notice that he still held her hand in his, and it felt very comforting to have it there.

"I do, Miss Bennet. This is just one more thing you do not know about me."

Teasing, exasperating man! To make a statement like that, when she could not properly answer it! Lizzy was desperate to speak to him alone, but forced her attention back to the ceremony.

Another cluster of fairies came forward, carrying between them two velvet pillows on top of which were items draped with silk cloths. One of the items appeared to be quite heavy, as the fairies bearing that pillow were obviously straining under the weight.

Fitzwilliam then began another speech to the effect of the gratitude of the Darcinians that their wait of several generations had finally been rewarded with the arrival of their honored guests; in short, there were gifts to be presented to Lizzy and Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy's gift was revealed to be a handsome sword with a jeweled hilt; this was the item that had weighed down the fairies with their pillow. Mr. Darcy studied the weapon with appreciative eyes, and slashed it through the air a few times, thrusting and parrying with an invisible foe. The crowd oohed and aahed approvingly.

"Do you actually know how to use that, Mr. Darcy?" Lizzy asked with some trepidation, wondering if the gift was meant to be symbolic, or if the Darcinians actually expected Mr. Darcy to find use for it.

"I do, Miss Bennet. It is a very fine weapon, thank you, Fitzwilliam," Mr. Darcy said. Fitzwilliam seemed pleased with Mr. Darcy's acceptance of the gift.

Lizzy was then given her gift, and she did not quite know what to make of it. It was a small, intricately cut, crystal flask containing a bright crimson liquid. The fluid appeared to glow, and upon close inspection, Lizzy was quite certain that it was actually throbbing. She looked at Fitzwilliam expectantly, hoping that he would offer some sort of explanation before she was forced to ask what the bottle contained. He obliged her.

"Miss Bennet, you are renowned for your kindness and your compassionate nature. We offer you this gift of a magic elixir, developed in the palace for the... Miss Bingley. This precious liquid will heal any wound, cure any illness, strengthen the weak, comfort the sorrowful, and hearten the fearful. My greatest wish for you is that for as long as you remain in Darcinia," 'and I hope that is not for much longer,' Lizzy thought, "you will have no cause to use it. But if you do, your compassionate heart will add strength to this potion, and increase its beneficial effects for anyone whom you choose to grace with your aid."

"Thank you," was all that Lizzy could think of to say. She desperately hoped that the Darcinians were not giving her a healing potion as a gift because they expected her to have need of it - she was beginning to feel nervous about what was to happen on the morrow when they attempted to find Miss Bingley and secure her help in returning home. Lizzy hoped that the gifts were merely gestures, and there would be no need for either swords or healing potions, or hosts of loyal creatures sworn to protect her. In the midst of these worries, Lizzy thought again of Jane, and hoped that Mr. Darcy was right, that she had not yet noticed that her sister had disappeared whilst playing a silly parlor game. Looking again at the throbbing, red liquid in the tiny bottle, Lizzy wondered if it really could cure all illness, and if it could perhaps cure Jane's cold, thereby allowing Jane and Lizzy to return home to Longbourn as soon as Lizzy found her way back to Netherfield. Lizzy did not know, though, if she wanted to give her sister some strange, unknown substance, even in the hopes of securing a quick escape from Miss Bingley's company.

'Jane will never believe any of this,' Lizzy thought with a sigh.

"Pemberley, did you hear what I asked you?" Caroline asked grimly.

The poor, quaking faun forced himself to reply, "Yes, your majesty."

"Then why do you not answer? Where are Eliza Bennet and The Darcy?"

Pemberley swallowed hard. "I... I do not know, your majesty," he answered with a choked whisper.

"Pemberley, in what capacity do I employ you?" Caroline's voice was like a dagger of ice.

"I am a sp... sp... spy, your majesty."

"And what is your specific assignment?"

"I am to watch the pine grove where there is a portal between Netherfield and Darcinia, and if Eliza Bennet or The Darcy appear, I am to have them taken immediately to the palace to await your pleasure." Pemberley repeated this information as if by rote, and with a tremor in his voice that bespoke his consciousness of what was to come.

"Yes. And yet, both Eliza Bennet and The Darcy have come to Darcinia, and through that very pine grove, I might add, without you knowing where they are?"

"That is so, your majesty."

"Can you explain to me why that is so, Pemberley?"

"Not in a way that would satisfy you, your majesty."

"And why is that?"

Pemberley hesitated. It would not matter what he said to her; his fate had been decided the moment the queen had arrived at the palace and found that neither Eliza Bennet nor The Darcy were there. He gathered what courage he could to answer her with defiance, just for once. He looked into her cold, angry eyes.

"Because I let them go! Elizabeth Bennet is a nice lady, and I could not hand her over to you to hurt her. I never even saw The Darcy, but I would never wish upon any man the fate of being married to you! Even if I knew where they were, I would rather die than tell you."

Caroline drew in her breath sharply. "Very well, that can be arranged," she said with an eerie calmness, and signaled to two satyr guards to take him away. "He can feed the beast tomorrow, along with Eliza Bennet, as soon as she is found. And she will be found, Pemberley, make no mistake. You were a fool to fall for her charms, just like Mr. Darcy. He will pay for disregarding me, though, and so will you."

In spite of his fear, Pemberley felt triumphant as he looked back at the angry, frustrated queen while he was being dragged from the throne room. Somehow he sensed for the first time that the whispers of the rebels, the Cult of Eliza, might be true, that the queen was truly powerless to hurt Elizabeth Bennet, and that The Darcy would protect Elizabeth, his true love, and that soon Darcinia would be free.

Caroline watched silently as the struggling faun was hauled away, and then turned to Derbyshire, who was trembling in the shadow of a pillar. "Where is Moira? I must speak with her at once."

Derbyshire swallowed nervously. "The messenger who went to summon her has returned, your majesty, and said that she was not at home."

"FIND HER!" demanded the queen, eyes flashing in anger.

"Yes, your majesty," poor, unfortunate Derbyshire answered hopelessly as he scurried away to try to carry out her fruitless order.