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Chapter 1
Author's Note: This story is my attempt to show J.R.R. Tolkien's Middle Earth with a Jane Austen-ish point of view. The characters and names I have added are Jane Austen's, but everything else belongs to Tolkien! Expect the characters of Pride and Prejudice to appear in rather unlikely forms and, conversely, the characters of the Lord of the Rings to play unexpected roles in the P&P plot! (Except, alas, Lady Catherine will not make an appearance as an orc, as tempting as the idea is!)
Throughout Middle Earth, it is universally understood that hobbits, when sitting at the fireside among friends and tolerable relations, must close the day with a pipe and tobacco (Longbottom Leaf, of course!) and a good tale. At the time when the Fourth Age was yet young, the most popular tales in all the lands recounted the journey of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom or the glorious reign of King Elessar.
However, the hobbits as well as the Big Folk of Bree often remember another tale, a tale that took place during those years of tension and unrest before the War of the Ring. They alone remember it, for it was nearly lost amid the wars and darkness that arose at the end of the Third Age. (And, more importantly, it was based on a rather local occurrence.)
Here, the tale is written as the Big and Little Folk of Bree remember it:
On the outskirts of the town of Bree stood the house called Longbourn where lived the Bennet family. Though not wealthy by any means, the Bennets were highly respected among the Bree-folk, for their descendants had lived at Longbourn beyond the recollection of even the eldest of the townspeople. Some even believed that their descendants could be traced back to the first Men that wandered into the West of Middle Earth ages ago.
However, at the waning of the Third Age, the Bennets' respectability was endangered. Mr. Bennet suffered from the most pitiable condition of being the father of five daughters and no sons. Thus, the Bennets would soon sadly be no more.
What was even worse in the eyes of the Bree-folk was the fact that Longbourn was to be inherited by some outsider upon Mr. Bennet's death. Though quite accustomed to travelers from foreign regions, the Bree-folk were by no means partial to the idea of one settling permanently at one of the oldest houses in the neighborhood!
Of course, the Bennets themselves were keenly aware of the misfortune of their situation, but they, Mrs. Bennet in particular, tended to lament consequences of a different nature than those most feared by the common Bree-lander. If at least one of the five Miss Bennets did not made a profitable match before the death of the father, they would be no less than penniless and left at the mercy of a William Collins, a distant relation of Mr. Bennet's who lived in some strange land in the south. Mrs. Bennet's greatest fear was that she and her unmarried daughters would be forced to work at The Prancing Pony, her brother's inn at the heart of Bree. Her daily wails and lamentations were more than Mr. Bennet could tolerate, so he habitually sought refuge in his small library or in long walks that sometimes extended as far as the Old Forest.
Fortunately for her daughters, Mrs. Bennet was not always to be found in the depths of despair. She found the greatest comfort in her anticipations for her eldest daughter, Jane. Jane was surpassingly beautiful, as fair as an elf-maid, and her disposition was as sweet. After all, Mrs. Bennet often mused, why would great beauty be endowed to a lady if not to catch her a good husband?
For her next two daughters, Mrs. Bennet had little hope. Elizabeth, though endowed with a modest amount of beauty, had none of her elder sister's sweetness and all of her father's irony. Perhaps it might be very well for a man to have such wit, but it was not at all becoming in a lady! And poor Mary! She was as plain as any common Bree-lass and found no amusement outside a book cover, except when she played airs upon her little harp. Kitty and Lydia, the two youngest Miss Bennets, were pretty and lively girls, though they could not be compared with Jane. Their mother was certain that they at least would marry once Jane was well settled.
So poor Jane was burdened with the greater share of her mother's hopes and schemes, and she knew her mother would not rest until those hopes were gratified.
Mrs. Bennet's eyes were always open and eager. Good catches were not to be found at Bree, so when opportunity should arise, she must be ready to snatch it. And one day, an opportunity did come...
"Come girls! Not a moment is to be lost!"
Bursting from the doors of The Prancing Pony, Mrs. Bennet scurried down the streets of Bree, her two youngest daughters following close behind. Kitty and Lydia pleaded to their mother in vain for an explanation of her excitement and haste.
"Nay, girls! Mr. Bennet must be the first to hear the news!"
Her daughters responded with an abundance of pouting and whining, neither of which abated until they reached Longbourn. Once they entered the house, Mrs. Bennet went promptly to the library and shut the door behind her. Unfortunately, it was a vain precaution. Her shrill voice was clearly heard through the door.
"Mr. Bennet! Oh, such news have I had from my brother! Netherfield is to be let! And who do you think has taken it?"
"I am no wizard! Who?"
"A man of fortune, to be sure! He must be if he is settling at Netherfield! His name is Binglorn, and he comes from the North, I believe. I have had it from my brother that-"
"Binglorn?" Mr. Bennet murmured in surprise. "Impossible!"
"Impossible? What can you mean? Do you doubt Mr. Butterbur's information?"
Mr. Bennet did not answer but seemed to become lost in his own thoughts. He remained in that state until his wife's impatience was too deafening to ignore.
"Calm yourself, my dear. I have now doubt whatsoever that Mr. Butterbur is as accurate now as he has ever been. Tell me something, though. What think you of Rangers?"
"Rangers? What have they to do with Netherfield's tenant? I leave Rangers to Kitty and Lydia, for they are quite wild for them, you know, especially when they have a good tale to tell. But I am thinking of Jane! She does not care for Rangers. Her beauty will serve her better than to win her the hearts of wanderers and riff-raffs!"
"Kitty and Lydia wild for Rangers?" Mr. Bennet mused. "Then Netherfield's new tenant is a happy change indeed!"
Mrs. Bennet never knew how to respond to her husband when he chose to be incomprehensible (which was rather often), so she resumed her relation.
"Mr. Butterbur has invited Binglorn to the dance on Saturday! Is he not clever? Binglorn will meet Jane and will most likely fall in love with her. Think of it, my dear! To have a daughter settled at Netherfield would be such a comfort!"
"Mrs. Bennet, whatever the motives that prompted Binglorn to settle at Netherfield, I can assure you that securing a wife was not one of them."
It was obvious to Mr. Bennet that his wife had ceased to attend to his remarks. She continued in the same train, prattling endlessly on the details of fabrics, ribbons, and other things that must be had before Saturday, while he tried to inconspicuously return to his book. He had no difficulty becoming engrossed despite the incessant chatter, for he had had much practice; but his concentration was at last shaken by an "OH, MR. BENNET!"
"Have you not finished, my lady?" he asked without raising his eyes from his book.
"Did you not hear me? You are planning to call, are you not?"
"Call?"
"Call on Binglorn! How else are we to be acquainted with him?"
"I am surprised Kitty and Lydia are not acquainted with him already."
"What?!"
"Well, you did say they are wild for Rangers."
"How absurd you are this evening! I do not understand you at all!"
"I am afraid you are right, my dear," Mr. Bennet replied with mock resignation. "Perhaps you had better leave me to myself until I have regained my senses."
"Indeed I shall!"
As Mr. Bennet watched his wife march from the room, his face suggested amusement. Inwardly, he was concerned by her news. He knew of Binglorn, of course, and he knew that he was in fact a Ranger, one of the Dúnedain. Friendship with the wizard, Gandalf the Grey, and a lifelong love of history and lore provided him with enough knowledge to be certain that a Ranger would not settle anywhere while the darkness in the East still thrived. This turn of his thoughts sent cold shivers down his spine. Something of great importance must be happening nearby. He wondered what in Bree or the Shire it could be.
Not that he would allow anything to take away from the amusement he would have at Mrs. Bennet's expense, but he would most definitely pay Binglorn a visit in the morning.
After some searching, Jane found her sister Elizabeth sitting quietly beside a tree on the lawn and steadfastly gazing into the sky. She smiled and shook her head at the sight, knowing Elizabeth had a strange, almost elven fondness for stars.
"Do you mind if I join you?" Jane asked softly.
"Of course not."
Jane sat beside her, and for some time, neither sister spoke. Elizabeth had eyes only for the glittering sphere above them, while Jane anxiously studied Elizabeth's face. It was during such moments as these that Jane felt most keenly how unhappy Elizabeth would be if she had to remain for the rest of her life in Bree. Her long walks, her constant thirst for news of other lands and peoples, her friendship with the wandering wizard, Gandalf: all these things bespoke the desires of her heart, but the expression that played upon her face as she watched the ascension of Eärendil's star into the heavens was alone sufficient to reveal everything. Jane was almost afraid that Gandalf would one day spirit her sister away to some glorious adventure from which she would never return. Elizabeth felt her gaze and turned towards her with a smile.
"What would you say if I told you I sometimes wish I had been born an elf?" Elizabeth asked in a playful tone.
Jane laughed uneasily. "I would say that I had thought it would not matter what you are, as long as your destiny leads you far away from here."
"Ah, my sister knows me too well! But consider. Would you ever expect to hear an elf complain of over-taxed nerves or palpitations? Of course, I have never seen, much less heard an elf..."
"Oh dear. What has Mother done now?"
"It is what she will do that worries me. Did not Lydia inform you that a young man is to take Netherfield?"
"Yes. His name is Binglorn, I believe?"
"Yes, and he is to come to the dance on Saturday. I suspect that Mama is planning your wedding as we speak."
"Please do not be anxious for me, Elizabeth. Mama is simply very solicitous for our future welfare, and I can bear any discomfort knowing her kind intentions."
"Hmmm... The kindest intentions can lead others astray," Elizabeth remarked dryly, "but I suppose that the sooner you are well settled in a home of your own, the sooner you will be content...and safe from further embarrassment."
"I would be very content if I were the means of bringing comfort to my family."
Elizabeth looked at her sister in alarm. "Oh Jane! I fear for you when you speak so! Let not anyone's comfort but your own be an inducement to marry! How could I be comforted if you were made unhappy for my sake?"
"You mistake me, Elizabeth. I should very much like to marry for love."
"Then do not allow anyone, including Mama, to persuade you to do otherwise!"
Jane smiled softly but did not make any promises.
As the highly anticipated dance drew near, Mrs. Bennet's anxiety rose to unbearable heights. Mr. Bennet showed no indication that he meant to pay a visit to Netherfield before Saturday, and so Mrs. Bennet despaired of his ever being introduced to her dear Jane. When Lydia and Kitty arrived home from Bree on the eve of the dance and informed their mother of Mr. Lucas's visit to Netherfield, alarm took the place of every other feeling. Mr. Lucas, a respected shopkeeper, was the father of two unwed daughters.
"Charlotte and Maria Lucas are no doubt well acquainted with Binglorn by now!" Mrs. Bennet complained to her husband.
"If so, then you needn't despair. They are agreeable girls and will be happy to introduce our daughters to their new acquaintance," Mr. Bennet replied from behind a lengthy letter he was reading.
"But what good will that do? You know how artful Mrs. Lucas can be when she spies a possible match for one of her girls! No. Binglorn is as good as lost to us by now! I will save my nerves from further affliction by putting him out of my head!"
As if to confirm her words, she pressed a handkerchief to her brow and sunk into the nearest chair. Mr. Bennet observed his wife's affectedly noble attempt to get the better of her nerves with amusement.
"I had not considered your condition when I called on Binglorn. You will have all the more difficulty forcing him from your head now. Forgive me, my dear," he said with a chuckle.
Mrs. Bennet sat upright in her chair and clasped her hands before her in a fit of rapture.
Mr. Bennet had, of course, called the very morning after he received the news, though he went with motives that were entirely dissimilar to his wife's. That visit had assured him that he need not fear for Bree at present, and it also made him aware of the fact that he alone among the Bree-landers recognized Binglorn as a Ranger. He had promised Binglorn not to reveal this knowledge, and in return, Binglorn expressed a wish of being acquainted with the Miss Bennets.
When Mr. Bennet informed his wife of the latter, she was nearly overcome. The scene that followed caused Mr. Bennet to sorely regret that he did not wait until the following evening to set Mrs. Bennet at ease.
Barliman Butterbur was happy to gratify his sister's wishes by holding frequent dances in the great upper room of The Prancing Pony, but only with the understanding that he would be excused from attending. He was, after all, a very busy man. His brother-in-law, Mr. Bennet, always excused himself as well. It was therefore the part of Mr. Lucas to play the host. Being a good-natured sort, he was content to welcome guests and ensure that every pretty lady had a dancing partner.
Kitty and Lydia were swift to find partners and join the dancers. Jane was approached by many, and Mary retired to a seat in a corner where she intended to remain for the duration of the evening. Elizabeth declined dancing at first and sought the company of her friend, Charlotte Lucas.
"I see that Netherfield's new tenant has yet to arrive," Elizabeth remarked once she joined her friend.
"It is early yet..." Charlotte fell silent when she noticed that the voices around her had been suddenly hushed.
Following the eyes of their neighbors towards the room's entrance, Elizabeth and Charlotte immediately discovered the reason for the strange silence. Binglorn had arrived, and he was not alone.
Elizabeth at first wondered at everyone's reaction. Binglorn was young, fair-featured, and pleasantly handsome. At first glance, nothing out of the ordinary was to be seen. (Indeed, nothing in his appearance would betray his affiliation with the rugged, travel-worn Rangers.)
It was when Elizabeth's eyes rested upon Binglorn's companion that she began to partake in the general astonishment. The grace and nobility of Binglorn's carriage paled in comparison to the striking figure that stood beside him. Unlike Binglorn, he was very tall, and his hair was as black as jet. In stark contrast to his alabaster complexion, his eyes were a shade of gray so dark and deep they could almost be called black, yet they glimmered with a peculiar brightness. Like stars, Elizabeth observed wistfully. He was the first man Elizabeth had seen that she would have ever called beautiful. But his was a beauty that was hard and venerable, and he had the air of both a lord and a warrior. However, his person alone was not responsible for the dumbfounded faces that encircled him, for none of the Bree-landers had ever before beheld an elf, much less a high elven lord.
Mr. Lucas was the first to recover, and he strode across the room to greet the new arrivals.
"Binglorn, you are very welcome to our little gathering here," Mr. Lucas said with a low bow.
Binglorn returned the gesture. "I thank you, Mr. Lucas. Now, allow me the pleasure of introducing you to one of my dearest friends," he paused as he gestured to his proudly aloof companion, "Darcë."
Chapter 2
"An elf at Bree?!"
"They say he is a great lord come from the havens in the West."
"And he is one of Binglorn's closest friends."
"Is not his raiment very grand? He must have wondrous riches of his own!"
"What a pity for our young ladies that he is an elf!"
If Darcë felt any discomfort at being the object of such scrutiny, his countenance did not betray it. As he walked with slow precision along the length of the great room and observed the dancers, his face remained impassive save during those brief moments when the slightest hint of disdain distorted his features. It was soon perceived that, not only was he disinclined to dance, but that he also repulsed every attempt to draw him into conversation. To Elizabeth who observed his movements with curiosity, Darcë seemed to feel himself in every way above his company.
Binglorn, on the other hand, mingled with ease and open friendliness among the Bree-landers. People soon declared him infinitely more agreeable than Darcë, and he made Mrs. Bennet very happy by singling out Jane to be his first dancing partner. Though Elizabeth herself opted to join that dance as well, she was able to divert enough attention from the steps and her partner to see that Binglorn and Jane were more than pleased with one another. Mrs. Bennet, of course, detected this also and did not scruple to share her instantly inflated hopes with Mrs. Lucas and any other matron who had the patience to listen.
And so the evening progressed. Darcë continued to be inscrutable and distant, and his proud demeanor was quick to transform his earlier popularity into general dislike. Binglorn remained in good humor, dancing with the younger Miss Bennets and the Lucas sisters and finally escorting Jane to the dance floor once again.
He did spare a few moments from his partners to accost Darcë, seeing that his friend took no delight in the festivities and did not try to make himself agreeable.
"Darcë, will you not dance just once? It pains me to see you so withdrawn!"
"Would you have me be so familiar with such company as this?" Darcë asked incredulously. "You need not concern yourself with me. I have been busily employed during the past hour trying to fathom how I allowed you to persuade me to come here."
Elizabeth, who sat close by, heard the exchange and feared Darcë's words would affront Binglorn. She was pleasantly surprised at the sound of Binglorn's laughter.
"Ah, Darcë! A whole hour? You should have approached me at once for an answer!"
"And what would it have been?" Darcë asked, his voice, for the first time that evening, lightened by amusement.
"That you delight in humoring me, of course! However, all jesting aside, I would have you enjoy yourself this evening. We are not in Rivendell, to be sure, but I daresay there are a great many fair maids present who would make amiable dance partners!"
"One fair maid, you mean," Darcë replied with a nod in Jane's direction.
"Yes, she is all loveliness! One could fancy her an elf-maid! But look there! Miss Elizabeth Bennet, her sister, is very lovely too, and I found her to be quite pleasant-spirited when I had the honor of dancing with her."
Darcë studied Elizabeth a moment and promptly withdrew his gaze when her inquisitive eyes met his own.
"She might be tolerable according to mortal standards, but she is hardly worth a second glance from one whose eyes are accustomed to beauty of a much grander scale. I am in no mood to humor you this time, Binglorn, so I suggest you return to your fair partner."
Elizabeth stiffened at this evidence of supercilious disdain, but innate good humor conquered in the end. She rose from her seat and strode past Darcë to find her friend Charlotte, laughter all the while threatening to escape her lips. Finding Charlotte, she immediately related the great insult she had received from the elf-lord whose eyes, unbeknownst to her, closely followed her every movement. The lighthearted laughter that arose from the whisperings of the pair was enough to ease Darcë's concern at being overheard, though it was not as kind to his pride.
Darcë spoke little as he returned with Binglorn to Netherfield after the dance. Binglorn left little to be said, anyhow. He spoke tirelessly of his delight in his new situation (however temporary it may prove to be) and of the charms of the young ladies of Bree, particularly those of Jane Bennet. Darcë attended to little of what Binglorn said, so absorbed was he in his own thoughts. As they drew near to the gates of Netherfield, Binglorn noticed his friend's thoughtful silence and realized he had been in that state since they left The Prancing Pony.
"Come, old friend. What is the subject of your reverie?"
This sudden inquiry unsettled Darcë, and he hesitated before answering. He certainly had no desire to reveal the true subject of his thoughts.
"Could the minds of mortals possibly fathom elvish thoughts?" he asked.
Binglorn shook his head. "You have lately been rather hard on us poor mortals, Darcë. Are you weary of my company now?"
"No, my friend. Forgive me. I was simply evading your question. I had been thinking of...the people we encountered at Bree. I thought them very strange, very rustic."
"And you do not like them."
"I spoke not so, but can you expect me to be comfortable among them?" Darcë sighed. "I have had few dealings with mortal Men. I hardly know what to make of them most of the time."
"Nonsense! You have known me for many years."
Darcë smiled slightly. "Young one, my life has been long, longer than you could comprehend. I have endured through many ages of the world. The years that seem so long to you are as the blink of an eye to me."
"You seem sad. I have noticed that your spirits have often been depressed of late."
"I am weary of life and weary of this world," Darcë replied with a shrug. "Nothing is left for me in Middle Earth, yet I have no desire to sail into the West. My heart does not hear the call of the sea as the hearts of other elves do. In the First Age of the world when I followed my lord Fëanor from our ancient home in the West, the lands of Middle Earth spread before us, unconquered and endless in their possibilities; but by the end of that age, our kingdoms crumbled beneath our feet. My kindred perished, as did the cursed House of Fëanor that I served. Indeed, I am the last of the Fëanorians. To be a lone survivor is a sad condition."
Binglorn pondered Darcë's words, wishing that for a moment he could understand the melancholy that was as constant to his friend as his shadow. "Is death, then, your only refuge?"
"No! It is the fate of the elves to dwell within the circles of the world until the End, whether their spirits be housed in flesh or no. Only one of the elves has truly died."
Binglorn did not ask for an explanation, for he knew of whom Darcë spoke. Any Ranger would have known. Long ago, it was Lúthien Tinúviel who became a mortal and died the death of a mortal, all because she loved a mortal. Thus her spirit, with the spirit of her beloved, was allowed to escape from the world.
Elizabeth arose earlier than her sisters the next morning and went downstairs to find her father (which was no difficulty).
"Good morning, Father!" she greeted cheerily as she opened the door to Mr. Bennet's library.
"Good morning to you, my dear. Did you enjoy the dance?" Mr. Bennet inquired with a little more curiosity than he usually felt on such occasions.
"It was certainly a very interesting evening. There was much to be observed by the satirical eye," Elizabeth replied thoughtfully. "The others enjoyed themselves quite well. Kitty and Lydia never lacked dancing partners. Mary was content to keep company with her intellect and danced not at all. Jane danced with Binglorn among others..."
"Indeed? And how did you all find Binglorn?"
"Not at all like I expected. He was very amiable and made himself at home in a moment. One would think he had lived in Bree his whole life. I believe Jane was very pleased with him, and he with her."
"Yes, your mother apprised me of that detail last night. But you say nothing of yourself."
Elizabeth, regarding her father with eyes that scintillated with secret merriment, only laughed heartily in reply and eased herself into the chair that faced his desk.
Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow and asked, "Surely you were not forced to keep company with Mary's intellect as well? Had you any partners?"
"Oh, I had a sufficient number of dancing partners, at least enough to discourage Lydia's taunts. Would that Mary had been so fortunate! However, if you are determined to know all, then you had better ask with whom I did not dance."
"Enlighten me, then!"
"I had my first encounter with an elf last night and had the honor of being slighted by him! It seems I cannot boast the wondrous sort of beauty to which he is accustomed, so dancing with me was out of the question. I pity elves. To have senses so numbed by great beauty that they can no longer enjoy the world can hardly be tolerable."
Mr. Bennet listened to his daughter's relation with an intense interest. "An elf at Bree - and at the dance? It is unheard of!"
"He was quite of your opinion, I am sure. He came with Binglorn. More importantly, he is reputedly an elf lord of high lineage and has a mighty fortune hidden somewhere. Of course, I gave as much credit to the latter as I would any information I receive from the ever-reliable matrons of Bree. As for the former, Darcë's appearance and manners were sufficient proof."
"Darcë did you say?" Mr. Bennet asked suddenly.
"Yes. You are not acquainted with him?" Elizabeth would truly not be surprised if he were, given her father's many travels and exceptional knowledge of elves.
"No, but I know of him. And does Darcë currently reside with Binglorn?"
"I would assume so. They left the dance together."
Mr. Bennet paused thoughtfully and closed the book he had been reading.
"Considering your account of Darcë and what we have both seen of Binglorn's pleasant temper, they must have a very...interesting friendship," Mr. Bennet mused.
A soft knock at the door prevented Elizabeth from responding, and she turned to see Jane peeking in the room.
"I thought I would find you here, Elizabeth. Good morning, Father."
"Come in, Jane. What is this I hear about your monopolizing Binglorn at the dance?" Mr. Bennet inquired with affected gravity.
Jane blushed deeply and, with a look, begged Elizabeth's intervention.
"Father, you are very mean. Binglorn monopolized her," Elizabeth said, favoring Jane with a teasing smile.
"Binglorn's manners were pleasing and wholly irreproachable. I am sure he would do no such thing," Jane put in shyly.
"Of course not, my dear," Mr. Bennet responded kindly with a wink in Elizabeth's direction.
At that moment, the three were startled by the sound of doors rapidly opening and closing upstairs. Mrs. Bennet's "MRS. UNDERHILL! YOU ARE WANTED IMMEDIATLEY!" filtered through the ceiling and wrenched their ears. Mrs. Underhill was the longtime housekeeper of Longbourn and was always at odds with her mistress because of her reluctance to ascend to the upper floor. (She was, after all, a hobbit.) Many of Mrs. Bennet's nervous episodes arose from this difficulty.
"Your mother is up and about early today," Mr. Bennet observed with an irritable sigh.
"Which means she is feeling unusually industrious for some reason or another. I advise you to be cautious, Jane," Elizabeth added.
Elizabeth's scruples were well founded. Shortly after, Mrs. Bennet burst upon the three in a great fluster of haste and urgency. Seeing her mother equipped with Jane's cloak and a basket, Elizabeth quickly began to surmise her mother's intentions.
"Apples Jane! I have just spoken to Mrs. Underhill about it. Oh, we are in dreadful need of them!" Mrs. Bennet declared.
Elizabeth stepped to the window and looked out with concern. "Mama, are apples so urgent that Jane should walk almost to Netherfield and chance being caught in the rain?"
Mrs. Bennet joined her daughter at the window, and an absurd expression of eagerness alighted upon her features as she gazed at the sky.
"Well, the weather does look as if it might turn bleak...Jane, you must go at once! But take your time. The apples will not be wanted till supper."
"I will go, Mama," Elizabeth offered. "Jane has only just risen."
"No you will not, girl! You are not nearly as gentle as Jane and would bruise the apples. Besides, there is nothing for you at Netherfield."
Mr. Bennet chuckled and said, "My dear, the subtlety of your endeavors never ceases to amaze me. Now, do continue this elsewhere. I would like to continue my book undisturbed."
Elizabeth looked pleadingly at her father but to no avail. He had already absorbed himself in his book. With a quiet sigh, Jane wrapped her cloak about her and accepted her mother's basket. Elizabeth could barely contain her frustration as she watched her sister disappear over the hill towards Netherfield.
"Well Mrs. Bennet. I congratulate you on the success of your scheme," Mr. Bennet said at the breakfast table as he helped himself to the sausage. "Jane has not only turned her ankle but has caught a nasty cold as well. She will no doubt be laid up at Netherfield for at least a week."
"I only hope she will make what she can of it. It is a pity about the apples though..." Mrs. Bennet replied thoughtfully.
Elizabeth shook her head disgustedly and said, "Mama, I intend to go to Netherfield immediately after breakfast. It is not fitting that Jane should be so long at Netherfield alone, and she would wish for my company."
"Walk three miles in the mud? I think not," was Mrs. Bennet's answer.
"I will not be kept from going. Anyhow, I do not mind the distance. The weather is fine, and I will be less harmed by mud than Jane was by rain."
Mrs. Bennet shrugged. "If you are so determined, I shan't stop you."
"Lydia and I will walk you as far as Bree, Elizabeth," Kitty offered with a sly glance towards Lydia. "We intend to call upon Uncle Butterbur."
Elizabeth observed the silent exchange with amusement. Despite what she knew of her younger sisters' true motives, she accepted the offer gratefully. The three set off soon after breakfast.
As soon as the rooftops of the town came into view, Lydia clasped Kitty's hand, and the two ran giggling towards the gate. Elizabeth, sighing wearily at her sisters' giddiness, continued on her own way. She soon found herself immensely enjoying the walk without an endless stream of chatter.
Hopping over fences and leaping over streams and puddles of rainwater, Elizabeth became warm despite the cool crispness of the air and her cheeks were reddened. She shook her head as she approached the grove of apple trees that bordered Netherfield. Poor Jane! she thought bitterly. As Elizabeth stopped within the grove to survey the area where her sister met with misfortune, she pulled back the hood of her cloak allowing her dark curls to escape and dance about her cheeks with the wind.
It was then that Darcë spied her, for he had felt a strange longing to walk about in the morning sun and had strolled idly to the apple grove where Binglorn had found Miss Bennet the day before. Upon seeing Elizabeth, he briefly wondered that another Miss Bennet should be found at that location. In any case, Darcë took full advantage of the opportunity to observe her without being seen and studied her features with an admiration he had not felt at the dance. Her blushing cheeks and dark ringlets were pretty enough, but it was her eyes in particular that fascinated him. He was surprised that he had not noticed them previously. One could be forever lost in those starry depths... - he berated himself before he indulged further in that thought.
Darcë noticed Miss Bennet's figure suddenly stiffen and turn sharply towards him.
"Miss Bennet," he stated by way of greeting.
"Darcë," she replied coldly. "I have come to see my sister."
"Quite a long walk for a lady on such an errand," Darcë observed with a barely concealed smile.
Not being disposed to converse with the proud elf lord, Elizabeth simply replied, "Would you be so kind as to take me to my sister?"
Darcë curtly bowed in assent and led Elizabeth the remaining distance to Netherfield.
Chapter 3
Binglorn received Elizabeth with mingled surprise and pleasure and promptly conducted her to the guestroom where Mrs. Reynolds was tending Jane. Mrs. Reynolds was a pleasant-natured, elderly woman whom Binglorn had sent for from Bree to act as housekeeper at Netherfield. She greeted Elizabeth kindly and left the sisters to themselves.
Elizabeth looked upon her sister's flushed visage with concern and found Jane's cheek to be exceedingly warm. The cool touch of Elizabeth's fingertips upon her face awakened her.
"Elizabeth!" Jane exclaimed in a sadly weakened voice. "How came you to be here? Or am I home?"
"No, dear Jane. Mama's scheme was only too successful. You are at Netherfield still."
Jane sighed in frustration and said, "Elizabeth, I was never so ashamed in my life than when Binglorn found me all wet and muddied and almost trespassing on his property! I suppose he must despise me now, and rightly! I should never have let Mama persuade me to such foolishness."
"I shall never forgive you if you persist in blaming yourself for Mama's absurdities!" Elizabeth cried with warmth. "Set yourself at ease. I doubt very much that Binglorn could despise you. On the contrary! I have never beheld a man so concerned over the health of a lady with whom he has been acquainted for little more than two days!"
Jane smiled and said, "In any case, I shall try to make a swift recovery. I should not wish to inconvenience Binglorn more than necessary. He has been most kind."
"I am most sure of that," Elizabeth replied causing Jane's blush to deepen.
At that moment, Mrs. Reynolds quietly stepped in and said to Elizabeth, "Master Binglorn wishes me to tell you that you are to stay here until your sister recovers."
"Master Binglorn is very kind, but I would not wish-"
"Not at all, Miss! The Master has just sent a man to Longbourn for your belongings, and the room next door is being prepared as we speak. I assure you, it is no trouble," the housekeeper protested.
"Elizabeth," Jane pleaded. "Please stay. I could not be ill for very long if you are here to keep me company."
Elizabeth could not refuse such a request and resolved to see Binglorn at once to offer her thanks. She followed Mrs. Reynolds into the library where Binglorn was sifting through documents strewn across a mahogany desk and making sundry comments to Darcë who was seated across from him. Both rose and bowed when they observed Elizabeth and Mrs. Reynolds enter.
"I wish to thank you, sir, for your kindness to my sister and myself. I apologize for having imposed on you this morning, but I could not rest until I saw my sister," Elizabeth said.
"Of course you could not!" Binglorn jovially concurred. "And you are most welcome in my home. How did you find Miss Bennet?"
"I am afraid she is not at all well, sir, but she is determined to improve. I expect that a couple days of bed rest will set her to rights."
"It is to be hoped so, but it will not do to rush her recovery," Binglorn replied with concern. "No doubt, you will wish to take supper with your sister, but if you will join us in the drawing room this evening, we should be very pleased."
Elizabeth gladly accepted the invitation and returned to her sister. There she remained for the greater portion of the day and had the satisfaction of seeing Jane gradually show signs of improvement.
For some reason he could not fathom, Darcë felt uneasy knowing that Elizabeth Bennet was to stay for a while at Netherfield. Of course, he saw her rarely, for she kept mostly to her sister's room. He could only suppose that his uneasiness originated from the awkwardness of their first encounter. Whatever the reason, his pulse unaccountably quickened the moment he heard a sound at the door and saw Elizabeth enter the drawing room that evening.
Binglorn welcomed her among them with his customary cordiality and immediately inquired after Jane's health. Elizabeth was pleased to give him a positive answer.
"Pray, sit down, Miss Bennet, then perhaps we can persuade Darcë here to some storytelling. He knows a great many exciting tales, if you can persuade him to share them!" Binglorn said.
"Binglorn, I despise storytelling. You know it very well," Darcë replied.
"Why should you," Elizabeth asked with curiosity, "if you have an eager audience and a good tale? That is all that is required of the average Bree-lander to become an adept storyteller, which would explain, of course, why there are no secrets in Bree."
"No secrets in Bree?" Binglorn mused. "I thank you for the warning! We had better mind ourselves, Darcë!"
"You despise storytelling as well then, do you not Miss Bennet?" Darcë inquired with a slight smile.
Elizabeth eyed him thoughtfully, almost warily, for a moment and replied, "In this town, I suppose I do."
"But for reasons entirely different from my own," Darcë observed. "For me, to relate stories of the past is to relive the feelings concomitant with them. Such is the curse of an elvish memory."
"And my reason is that I do not desire to hear what the people of this town have to tell. Within such a limited sphere, it could only be gossip."
"I am not familiar with the term, but I understand you."
"Do you?" Elizabeth replied archly.
"You mean that the interests of the people of Bree are exclusively related to domestic concerns and that your attention would not easily be engaged by them."
"You are partially correct, but you failed to mention that the domestic concerns of others are what chiefly interest them."
Darcë leaned forward slightly in his chair and asked, "Then what interests you, Miss Bennet?"
Surprised by the directness of the query, Elizabeth knew not at first how to respond. She briefly wondered if he was mocking her. Darcë studied her intently, waiting for a response. Binglorn looked back and forth between the two with an amused expression and returned to his papers, as he did not expect a good tale to arise anytime soon from this conversation.
"I suppose I am generally more eager to hear of other peoples and regions of the world," Elizabeth hesitantly replied.
"I thought as much," Darcë said softly.
Elizabeth grew uncomfortable under the elf lord's steady gaze and wondered if he found something amiss in her person. If that were all, she would not be anxious about it. He most likely would not look upon anything from the world of mortal men without detecting some flaw.
Sensing her discomfort, Darcë rose from his seat to look out the window. Elizabeth soon after excused herself for the evening to see about her sister. Darcë observed her exit with a regret he did not understand. He never thought he would take such interest in any of the Bree-landers, much less that cheeky Bree-lass with her pert remarks, her sparkling eyes... Darcë groaned inwardly at himself.
During the times of the day when Jane slept, Elizabeth often sought refuge from the sickroom in long walks. She found the grounds of Netherfield delightful and particularly enjoyed the numerous groves of trees that surrounded the house. Autumn was at its loveliest, and Elizabeth lamented her sister's confinement all the more because of it.
It would seem that Darcë found equal enjoyment outdoors, for Elizabeth met him more than once during her ramblings. She would not take such a thing amiss save that he always chose to continue his walks by her side. Her only consolation during those times was that he spoke little. Whenever he did venture to make some inquiry she would offer little more than one or two words in response. Whether he took offense at her coldness she knew not, but truthfully, she liked him too little to care.
One afternoon upon such an occasion, Darcë was peculiarly talkative and seemed to wish to draw her into a conversation. Elizabeth concealed her annoyance as best as she was able, for Binglorn's sake, and attempted to be receptive to Darcë's efforts.
"Whenever you talk of some aspect of your life here, I detect a certain weariness in your voice and manner. Do I err in assuming you are not content?" Darcë asked.
Elizabeth felt immediate irritation at his presumption but all the more at his precision. "Oh, if I seem so, then I must check myself. I am determined to be content with whatever life presents me. But I suppose my resolution would prove to be rather difficult if life will never present me a path that leads far from Bree."
"Be glad at least that you know what will cure your discontentment. Would that I were so fortunate," Darcë sighed.
Elizabeth felt at once that she could suggest a few things but did not dare to do so, as she felt her impertinence must have some limits. She smiled mischievously instead.
"What amuses you, Miss Bennet?"
Immediately smothering her smile, Elizabeth glanced cautiously towards her companion, but his face only bespoke curiosity and mild amusement. "Please do not mind my whims. I tend to find sources of diversion in any situation. Even in Bree. For that reason, I might always find my home at least tolerable, and I can survive with what is tolerable."
Darcë only laughed in reply and Elizabeth wondered at the sound, for she had never thought him capable of such a conspicuous form of merriment. She resisted the temptation to demand the source of his own amusement and found it to be surprisingly difficult.
As if reading her thoughts, Darcë immediately sought to explain his mirth. "I simply admire with what subtlety you move from a subject that causes you discomfort. Did you know that Binglorn intends to host a dance at Netherfield after your sister has recovered?"
Now Elizabeth laughed in her turn and said, "No, I did not. My younger sisters will be very pleased at the prospect of a ball. May I ask what prompted him to think of it?"
"He certainly did not receive the idea from me, as I take little pleasure in such things. I have no doubt that the idea sprung from his own merry disposition."
Stealing a glance at the elf lord, Elizabeth was surprised to see him smile fondly as he spoke of his friend. I wonder if I shall ever be able to make out his character, Elizabeth thought to herself with a shake of her head.
Four days had passed without a single word from Netherfield, and Mrs. Bennet quickly became impatient to learn of Jane's progress with Binglorn. Whether she gave a thought to the progression of Jane's recovery is debatable. With her two youngest daughters in tow, she set out to Netherfield in the Bennets' buggy to relieve her curiosity on the matter.
With a great flourish and fluster, Mrs. Bennet made her entrance at Netherfield and insisted upon seeing her dear Jane at once. Binglorn was happy to welcome Miss Bennet's relations into his home, and Darcë was angry with himself for not having thought to take refuge in the garden when he heard someone coming up the drive.
Elizabeth escorted the trio upstairs. A half-hour later, Elizabeth led her mother and sisters to the drawing room where Binglorn and Darcë were waiting for them.
"I hope you found your daughter to be improving, Mrs. Bennet," Binglorn said pleasantly.
"I am afraid that I found her quite unwell, sir. It pains me greatly to see such a sweet creature suffer so keenly! It will be at least a week before I can think of moving her!"
"Of course!" Binglorn exclaimed.
Elizabeth tried to reason with her mother, "Mama, I tell you she has truly improved. In only a couple of days, she will be-"
"No more of your impertinence child! I know what I am about! And I am determined that you will accompany us home today, for I have no doubt that you have been behaving as wildly here as you are apt to do at home! Jane will mend very well without you!"
Elizabeth turned away to hide her blushing face. Binglorn was rendered speechless. The younger Miss Bennets snickered and whispered amongst themselves.
Darcë stood to his full height and gazed intently at Mrs. Bennet. "I am afraid that will not do, Mrs. Bennet," he said. "Miss Bennet has made it very clear that she does not want to be parted from Miss Elizabeth. Considering her condition, perhaps it would be better to honor her wishes."
The authority of his voice, his great stature, and the nobility of his appearance combined to overcome any objections Mrs. Bennet may have dared to utter.
Binglorn quickly stepped in and said, "Mrs. Bennet, we have taken great pleasure in Miss Elizabeth's presence here. I must second my friend's insistence that she remain with her sister."
Mrs. Bennet curtsied and said, "You are very gracious, sir, but do not hesitate to send her home when she becomes too troublesome!"
After her mother returned to Longbourn, Elizabeth immediately sought release of her vexation in a long and rigorous walk, being careful to choose a path she did not normally frequent. Her mother's habitual thoughtlessness and impropriety were often a source of discomfort to her and Jane, but to have those faults so grossly exposed was almost more than she could bear.
Elizabeth was also surprised by Darcë's unexpected intervention on her behalf. Why he of all people should seek to prolong her visit was beyond her comprehension. She concluded that he really believed her presence would speed Jane's recovery and thus shorten their stay at Netherfield.
As soon as she became too fatigued to harbor her storming emotions, she returned to the house and kept at her sister's bedside until the following morning.
Chapter 4
Mrs. Bennet proved to be a rather poor judge of health, for the very morning after her visit to Netherfield, Jane was sufficiently improved to leave her room. It was settled between Jane and Elizabeth that they would return to Longbourn the following day, much to the delight of the latter who was anxious to be free from the company of a certain proud elf lord.
Binglorn, though overjoyed to see Jane well enough to leave her room, was not a little dismayed to find her determined to remain but a day longer. He pleaded with her to delay her departure so as not to needlessly endanger her health, but Jane was firm. Finding her so resolute, he decided to hire a conveyance from Bree with which he would see the Miss Bennets safely home.
Among the feelings Darcë felt upon hearing of the eminent departure, relief was actually the most prominent. He was exceedingly disturbed by the emotions that Elizabeth Bennet's presence aroused within himself, and common sense told him that for the greater good of everyone she could not too soon take her leave.
At the dinner table, a contented smile was stretched across Mr. Bennet's face as he saw that the seats to his left and right were no longer vacant. To be confined for several days in a house with four silly females was such a sore trial for him that he had been tempted to remain permanently in his bedchamber and assume his wife's nervous complaint. Fortunately, his eldest daughters chose to return just in time to prevent him from taking such desperate measures.
Mr. Bennet also found an unexpected diversion in a supposedly urgent letter he had received at least two months ago but had not yet been interested in reading. He had it before him at the dinner table, and his chuckling occasionally interrupted the conversation around him. Elizabeth watched her father with a smile but said nothing.
"Pray Mr. Bennet, what is that you have there?" Mrs. Bennet inquired once her curiosity was aroused.
"A letter from the man who will turn you out of the house when I am dead," he nonchalantly replied from behind the parchment.
"OH MR. BENNET!" Mrs. Bennet cried, causing everyone within hearing to wince. She pushed her chair noisily from the table and covered her face with her handkerchief.
"His name is William Collins, and he means to pay us a visit...Judging from the date on the letter, I should expect him within a few days."
"UNDERHILL! MRS.UNDERHILL! MY SMELLING SALTS!"
"Mrs. Bennet, if you will allow me to read his letter aloud, you may find there is little need for you to fall into the depths of despair at present." Mrs. Bennet immediately ceased her convulsions and whimpering and looked at her husband questioningly. "He writes: My dear Mr. Bennet, the knowledge that one day I will be the means of bringing destitution to your amiable wife and daughters pains me to no end, but I assure you that it has always been my fondest wish to offer certain amends for the inevitable. I am pleased to write that I have now the ability to do so, for I have had the great fortune to be distinguished with the patronage of the honorable, magnificent Saruman the White of Isengard, whose position of prestige and great influence in higher matters requires the services of one with exceptional skills in diplomacy and a keen understanding of the world. This most kind, most affable and wisest of patrons has naturally solicited me to assume the position of his agent in the North, believing that my considerable endowments and my connections will be serviceable to him in that region. Thus, I am soon to depart for Eriador and, with the blessing and encouragement of my noble and benevolent patron, will seek to make myself known to the Bennet family."
Evidently pleased with the contents of the letter, Mrs. Bennet beamed and excitedly fluttered her hands about. "What a clever man he must be indeed! Pray do not mention my having disliked him before. If he intends to make any... amends to one of my daughters, I shall be the first to welcome him!"
"Ugh! He sounds like a stuffed pigeon to me!" Lydia remarked with a snort. "And who is Saruman the White of Isengard?"
"A person of very great importance, I would imagine," Mrs. Bennet said thoughtfully. Elizabeth, observing her mother's features with interest, thought she could very well guess at the schemes being fabricated behind them.
"As would Saruman himself," Mr. Bennet replied with a small smile. "He is a wizard but unlike Gandalf the Grey, has taken up a permanent residence."
"Very sensible," Mrs. Bennet commented with a sharp nod. "I do not take well to those who wander about constantly, appearing and disappearing and making other people uneasy!"
"Aye Mama, but a Ranger looks all the better for his wandering ways!" Lydia said, looking slyly across the table towards Kitty who immediately burst into giggles. Lydia promptly joined her.
Mr. Bennet looked between the two girls, his face expressionless, and said, "I am sure I need not take to great wandering to discover that here sit two of the silliest girls in Middle Earth."
A few days after the above conversation, a short, rotund man entered through the gates of Longbourn, riding upon a gaunt, half-starved horse that seemed to groan dejectedly beneath his burden. This man, who was of course Mr. William Collins, held his greasy head high, affecting an air of dignity that contrasted ridiculously with the slow, listless movements of his steed.
During the time in which horse and rider traversed the short distance from the gate to the house, the Bennet family had assembled outside to receive their visitor and had had ample opportunity to observe him. Kitty and Lydia exchanged audible whispers, each punctuated with snorts and giggling, and Elizabeth and Jane were constantly forced to check them. Mary and Mr. Bennet each intently studied Mr. Collins' appearance, one with profound contemplation and the other with half-concealed chuckles.
Mrs. Bennet stood before them all, wildly waving her handkerchief about and throwing various exclamations in Mr. Collins' direction: "Oh, what hardships you must have endured to come here! I was so afraid you would be attacked by ruffians or devoured by dragons, and then you would not have been able to come!"
"I should say not, my dear," Mr. Bennet remarked dryly. "You are welcome to Longbourn, Mr. Collins!"
Mr. Bennet was answered with a profuse bow that nearly leveled the poor horse and sent Mr. Collins tumbling upon the drive. The horse remarkably stood firm, however, and with the assistance of the gardener and the stable hand, the huffing and sweating man was set safely upon his feet. As the stable hand led Mr. Collins' horse away, Elizabeth smilingly noted the new spring to its steps.
At first, to some parties, the conversation at dinner that evening could be called somewhat amusing; but by the time the second course was served, it became evident that Mr. Collins had little to say that did not relate to his esteemed patron or his esteemed patron's abode.
"The Great Saruman the White," he marked the name with a bow of his head and with his hand upon his heart, "is indeed the essence of charity and goodwill, and he has bestowed unspeakably generous distinctions upon myself - I have been invited twice to dine at Orthanc! Oh, I cannot put into words the grandeur of that fortress, but one should expect no less of the residence of such a personage as," his arm extended in a sweeping gesture that unfortunately knocked the contents of Mary's glass into her lap, "Saruman the White!"
"Quite so, I am sure," Mr. Bennet replied with admirable calm despite the commotion. "I see that you are very fortunate in your patron. But, of course, I must assume that the great Saruman the White finds himself equally fortunate in such a servant."
"Ah sir! My abilities, as meager and inconsequent as they may be-I flatter myself-are of no inconsiderable assistance to Saruman. He has told me many a time, as proceeds from his immeasurable goodness, that my presence in Isengard is a great comfort to him."
"I see. Interesting," Mr. Bennet said, throwing a wink towards Elizabeth, who had been hiding her smiling face behind a napkin.
"How very desolated he must have been to send you away such a great distance!" Mrs. Bennet unaffectedly observed. Elizabeth withdrew further behind her napkin.
"Indeed, madam," Mr. Collins agreed with a solemn nod. "But, as my dear patron condescendingly says, if I am more useful to him at such a great distance, the sacrifice must be made. However, the sacrifice need not be entirely desolate."
As he spoke, Mr. Collins looked leeringly at Jane who sat across from him. Jane blushed deeply under Mr. Collins' bold gaze and would have shuddered in disgust if her sweet temperament had allowed it.
This silent exchange did not escape the notice of Mrs. Bennet, and when the soonest opportunity arose, she explained as delicately as could be expected that Jane would be very soon engaged. And so, naturally, his eye fell upon Elizabeth.
Jane was taking a turn in the shrubbery with Mary when Elizabeth burst upon them out of breath and with a look of desperation in her eyes. Kitty and Lydia followed soon after.
"My dear Jane, Mary," Elizabeth greeted as she recovered her breath and composure, "Shall we not all walk to Bree?"
"Indeed, yes! Let us all go!" Lydia agreed. "Rangers have been hard to come by of late, but Kitty and I can share. Can we not, Kitty?"
"If that is to be your errand, then I shall not be of the party," Mary stated primly.
"So much the better! You would spoil our fun! Stay here and entertain Mr. Collins!" Kitty said.
Elizabeth ignored the arguing that ensued and, taking Jane's arm, led her towards the gate. The other three followed without ceasing their bickering.
"But are you well, Elizabeth?" Jane inquired with concern. "Perhaps you should rest this afternoon."
"I shall be quite well once we are off!" Elizabeth briskly replied.
The sisters had not walked five steps from the gate when they began to hear the pursuit of a great deal of huffing and puffing. Elizabeth groaned loudly and quickened her pace.
"My dear Cousin Elizabeth!" Mr. Collins called from the gate. "Ah, all my dear, young cousins! A most welcome surprise! Do allow me to escort you on your walk!"
As the profusely sweaty man approached, Kitty and Lydia shrieked and ran ahead towards Bree. Mr. Collins observed their flight with consternation.
"Is it common for the folk of Bree to allow their children to run wild throughout the countryside? I know Lord Saruman would most heartily disapprove of such behavior!" he declared.
Elizabeth turned away to hide the annoyance that she was certain was clearly written on her face. Jane endeavored to pacify Mr. Collins, assuring him that her father, as a rule, did not permit such behavior in her younger sisters.
"Will you not join us, Mr. Collins?" Mary offered despite Elizabeth's horrified expression. "We are on our way to Bree to visit our Uncle Butterbur."
"I would be happy to accompany my young cousins on their little venture!" In what he felt was an admirably gallant gesture, Mr. Collins quickly took possession of Elizabeth's arm and led the way, fortunately not noticing her grimace. "If I am not mistaken, your Uncle Butterbur is an innkeeper? It is perhaps unfortunate that one so closely connected to you should be in trade, but fear not! I have the remarkable ability-I flatter myself-of adapting my manners to all levels of society. It is a necessary skill for one in my position, I assure you!"
"I can well believe it," Elizabeth replied somewhat absent-mindedly, for she was busily employed searching for a feasible excuse to free her arm from its odious captor.
When the small party arrived at The Prancing Pony, their ears were immediately afflicted with Kitty and Lydia's uproarious laughter. Chagrined, but not in the least surprised, Elizabeth spied her youngest sisters seated among a group of eager listeners near the fire at the far end of the room. At the center of the circle sat a man whom, according to his brown and green weatherworn raiment, Elizabeth assumed to be a Ranger. His visage did not have the grim appearance one would expect of a Ranger, though, and judging from the laughter his stories were evoking from his listeners, he seemed a much merrier sort. In fact, Elizabeth thought him rather handsome.
Seeing her Uncle Butterbur nearby, she at last extricated her arm from Mr. Collins' clammy grasp and hastened to him, intending to learn the identity of the stranger.
"Greetings niece! It is good to see you, but I've no time for chitchat. I have had a great deal of business this week and not a moment for sitting! I do hope you have come to deal with those sisters of yours. Customers always complain about that shrill giggling of theirs, and they are none too kind to the dwarf-folk that come through, always poking fun at their beards and provoking their short tempers. And it's a wonder that Rangers still insist on coming, for those silly girls have run off the last three with their fawning! ...Eh? Aye, I believe that fellow is a Ranger, and the most agreeable one that's been seen in these parts! No, I do not know his name, but you may ask yourself this evening. A large supper is being served, and your sisters are determined to stay because the Ranger declares he will join the party. Not to worry, I'll have Nob see you all home this evening. - Nob! Make up some tea for my nieces! No, don't bother about those two. They look too distracted for tea. - Well, I must be off, what with the great many people thinking I will have spare rooms this evening, and supper time is nigh. You and Jane will stay, will you not? I could not bear to be left with your sisters on my hands! I'm a busy man, as I've often reminded them in vain. How does my sister? Her nerves do not try her too often, I trust? Who is that stout fellow you came in with? I don't like the look of him. Needs a bit of soap and water, if you take my meaning..."
At that moment, the said fellow stepped closely behind Elizabeth and loudly cleared his throat. Mr. Butterbur crossed his arms and eyed him severely, clearly not liking the man's close proximity to his favorite niece.
Elizabeth understood Mr. Collins' none too subtle hint and said, "Uncle, this is my father's cousin, Mr. Collins. He has journeyed from the South to pay his respects to my father. Mr. Collins, my Uncle Butterbur."
"Dear sir, it is a great pleasure to meet any relation of my dear Cousin Elizabeth's. I am most charmed by your quaint establishment here. In fact, it puts me in mind of a guardhouse situated by the gates of Orthanc, the magnificent abode of my patron. No doubt a worldly man such as yourself has heard of the illustrious name of Saruman the White of Isengard?..."
Elizabeth left her uncle and cousin to exhaust each other with their great powers of oration and found a seat outside the circle of listeners. The Ranger smiled when he noticed her arrival, and Elizabeth could not help blushing.
Lydia turned around in annoyance to see who had diverted the attention of her newest favorite and, seeing it was only one of her elder sisters, exclaimed, "Oh Elizabeth! My darling Ranger here has been telling us the most droll stories!"
"And he must repeat them all for you!" Kitty insisted with a pout. "You will, won't you Wickham?"
Wickham smiled at their eagerness and said, "I will be happy to oblige."
Chapter 5
The large supper Mr. Butterbur had prepared proved to be a smaller affair than expected. Upon spying the younger Bennet girls, the few dwarves at The Prancing Pony that evening opted not to join. They had little to fear anyhow. Kitty and Lydia's attentions would not be diverted from their charming Ranger.
When dinner was served, the girls (and Mr. Collins) were vexed to find that Wickham had chosen the seat next to Elizabeth. When Elizabeth noticed this, she was glad for the opportunity to speak to the man without her sisters' incessant prodding.
"Your sisters are very eager for stories, Miss Bennet, and I was hard pressed to satisfy them," Wickham said to Elizabeth in a low voice.
She chuckled and replied, "Yes, I am well acquainted with their passions, which is why I admire you so much at this moment. Your escape from their clutches must have been no easy feat!"
Wickham laughed softly. "And I was amused by their hasty, and I must say ironic, assumption that I am a Ranger. I am regrettably not of their number, but perhaps I should have been," he said with a wistful smile.
Elizabeth eyed him with curiosity but chose not to inquire into his meaning. "Please excuse my sisters, sir. I am afraid they tend to be very impertinent among company."
"I found them to be amiable, though, as I find all the people of Bree."
"I am glad to hear it. Most people who venture here are of your opinion," Elizabeth said with a slight frown.
Wickham studied her a moment and casually said, "Your sisters related to me much of the current affairs of Bree, and I found one piece of information to be particularly interesting: that a lord of Elves is residing nearby at Netherfield. Have you seen him?"
"Yes, I have seen much of him. Darcë is his name, but a man called Binglorn is the one who has actually taken the house-" Elizabeth noticed Wickham start upon hearing the name of the elf lord, "Do you know of either of them?"
"I know Darcë very well. He was a dear friend of my father when he lived."
Elizabeth looked at Wickham in surprise and was much relieved that she had not declared her unfavorable opinion of the elf lord. She wondered how his father could have become a 'dear friend' of the proud Darcë. "And was this great friendship between Darcë and your father extended to you?"
"No, unfortunately. In fact...he has done me great wrong," Wickham gravely replied.
Elizabeth gasped in surprise. "Has he? To tell the truth, I found him to be proud and disagreeable, but I never imagined that- "
"That he would be capable of an act of malice?" Wickham smiled grimly. "Many of his kind are, you know. His kindred in particular. One should not be fooled by their fair semblance."
Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully, finding Wickham's account of Elves to be at odds with her father's; but she could not forget that her own observations of Darcë's behavior supported Wickham's statements.
"Forgive my boldness, but may I ask what wrong Darcë has done you?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.
Wickham did not respond at first, as the servers were just entering with the food. When the table had been laid he said quietly, "There is nothing to forgive. It is probably better that you know of this. My father was a Ranger, and he lived in Imladris, or Rivendell, as it is often called. When I was but a lad, he was mortally injured while pursuing a band of orcs in the mountains. Darcë was with him at the last, and before he died, my father exacted from him a promise that he would look after me and see to it that I was made a Ranger. Though for a while Darcë kept his promise, I found him to be a cold and distant guardian. Perhaps he resented me because his promise kept him from returning to his home at the Havens. I never knew for certain. Whatever the reason for his indifference, I was not prepared for what came to pass a decade later."
"What happened?" Elizabeth inquired breathlessly.
"Darcë accompanied me on my first and only journey with the Rangers. I was eighteen at the time. Our company was small because our errand was not pressing; but this proved ill, for a large company of orcs came upon us at unawares, and we were easily overcome. Our comrades for the most part were slaughtered. Darcë fled with the few remaining survivors - abandoning me in the process. At first I feared that my father's fate would be mine, but chance was kind and I escaped. I did not stray far from the area, though, for I yet had hope that Darcë would return for me. He did not. When at last I found my way back to Imladris, I was not welcomed. I soon discovered that Darcë had turned Master Elrond and all the people against me. So, as you may have guessed, I henceforth had to make my own way in the world."
Elizabeth could not speak for some time, so shocked was she at Wickham's tale. She never expected that her ill opinion of Darcë would be so confirmed.
At last she said, "Malicious does not begin to describe the evils Darcë has done you! I wonder that you could be so calm when the villain is so near!"
Wickham shrugged and said, "For the sake of my father's memory, I cannot think of vengeance. But I do not ask to be pitied! My present situation is prosperous, and I now find myself in the most agreeable society I have ever met."
Elizabeth comprehended his meaning and favored him with a sincere, sympathetic smile. Kitty and Lydia looked upon the two with envy, and Mr. Collins disconsolately picked at his food, occasionally throwing what he hoped was threatening glares in Wickham's direction.
That evening, Elizabeth confided to Jane all that Wickham had told her. Jane offered her usual attentive ear but was not as ready as her sister to condemn Binglorn's dearest friend.
"Elizabeth, consider. Wickham is an acquaintance of but a day," Jane admonished. "Is it wise to so hastily place your trust in his claims?"
"If you had heard him speak, you would believe as I do!" Elizabeth protested. "The grief I saw in his eyes when he spoke of the loss of his father and of Darcë's betrayal could not have been affected!"
"No, I cannot believe that Binglorn would befriend himself to a person capable of such meanness - or that any elf could be so cruel at all!"
"Wickham does not find the latter so difficult to believe, and neither do I. Darcë's behavior confirms it."
Jane sighed helplessly at her sister's obstinacy. "Well, say what you will. I cannot think so ill of Darcë, but neither will I choose to think ill of Wickham. I believe some unfortunate misunderstanding must have occurred to cause the severance of their connection."
Elizabeth helplessly sighed in her turn, having expected no less of her gentle sister.
Smiling at the serious, determined expression upon Elizabeth's face, Jane embraced her sister and bade her return to bed. Deep within, Jane knew that no amount of wise counsel would dissuade Elizabeth from holding fast to her opinions, and that time and experience alone would soften them.
The day following Elizabeth's encounter with Wickham brought Binglorn and Darcë to Longbourn with a personal invitation to the Netherfield Ball. Naturally, their arrival caused an uproar that forced Mr. Bennet into hiding. Mrs. Bennet's happiness on the occasion would have been complete save that Jane had chosen to wear one of her older frocks that day.
Elizabeth had been out walking when man and elf had arrived, and she returned to the house just as tea was being served. Lydia, who was the first to see her when she entered the drawing room, said in a raised voice, "Oh Binglorn! Do invite our dear Wickham to your ball! Elizabeth will certainly come if you can ensure his attendance! Will she not Kitty?"
Kitty sputtered over her tea while Elizabeth and Jane blushed at their sister's impropriety. Elizabeth glanced at Darcë in time to see his features considerably darken at the mention of Wickham, but she turned away at once when his keen eyes met hers.
"I will see what I can do, Miss Lydia," Binglorn replied uncertainly, looking questioningly towards his friend.
After Binglorn and Darcë had taken their leave, Elizabeth and Jane severely scolded their youngest sister, and Mary occasionally recited a proverb, but to no avail. They were rewarded with little more than bouts of giggles.
"I myself will take great pleasure in this event," Mr. Collins said, "for Binglorn appears to be a worthy, respectable fellow and his friend a most noble character indeed! I am sure that Lord Saruman would not object to my cultivating such acquaintances. And, I flatter myself, I will prove to be a worthy dancing partner for all my fair cousins!"
Lydia immediately ceased her giggling and exchanged a look of pure horror with Kitty. Elizabeth began to partake of their feelings when she saw Mr. Collins purposely make his way to her side.
"I will now take the opportunity of claiming your hand, my dear Cousin Elizabeth, for the first dance!" he declared as he grasped her hands with a grotesque simper.
Having the image of her being led onto the dance floor by Mr. Collins vivid in her mind, Elizabeth wished desperately that Binglorn would see to it that Wickham was invited to the ball. But then, she reasoned that Darcë would surely keep Binglorn from doing so, therefore any hope that she might enjoy the evening would be futile.
Allowing for the possibility that she was mistaken and that she might be destined to be Wickham's dance partner that evening, Elizabeth dressed with great care for the ball. She had selected an ivory gown, as Jane often commented that she looked very well in that color, and had her dark curls pulled up with ribbon and strands of delicate white blossoms. Unfortunately, Mr. Collins noticed this and did not scruple to assume that her pains were for his sake. After Mrs. Bennet had approved the dress of each of her daughters and had thrice ordered Jane to change her gown, the Bennet family set out for Netherfield.
As their carriage entered the gates of Netherfield, Elizabeth looked out and saw the house and surrounding trees lit with a multitude of gold and silver lamps. People dressed in their finest frocks milled about the grounds, the sound of their laughter a gentle accompaniment to the night wind.
Mr. Bennet looked upon the scene as well and smiled.
"Darcë procured those lamps, I imagine," he whispered to Elizabeth. "It was his kindred who first developed the art of their construction."
Elizabeth nodded mutely in response to her father's information. She really had no desire to sully the evening with a discussion of his attributes.
Binglorn hailed them immediately when they entered the great hall, and Elizabeth was pleased to see that Jane received the majority of his attentions. In fact, Binglorn seemed to forget that a steady stream of guests followed the Bennets and escorted Jane to the ballroom.
At that moment, Mr. Collins reminded Elizabeth of his odious presence by unceremoniously taking her arm and following Binglorn and Jane. Elizabeth did not attend to his recitation of compliments, her attention instead being employed with the search for Wickham. Though she had frequently counseled herself that his presence was unlikely, she was nonetheless disappointed when she did not see him; and Mr. Collins did not lift her spirits by insisting on being her partner throughout the evening.
At least I do not see Darcë anywhere. He probably managed to excuse himself from the affair. So much the better, I doubt I could be even remotely civil to him this evening, she thought morosely.
But Darcë was present; and in spite of all the objections he continually forced himself to consider, his eyes could not stray away from the vision in white that had appeared on the opposite side of the ballroom. Indeed, her image had never ceased to accost him ever since he first beheld her at the Bree assembly. It was with a lesser extent of feeling that he regarded the man at her side. Darcë had much ado to keep himself from extricating her - in a proper manner, of course - from his grasp, but Mr. Butterbur fortunately approached them and did the deed himself.
"I have a reason for claiming your attention, Niece, but for the life of me, I cannot remember it!" Mr. Butterbur said. "It has to do with that one fellow...the Ranger..."
"Wickham?" Elizabeth asked eagerly.
"The very name I was trying to think of! But why did I think of him? Oh, how am I to know? I tell you, it has been a hard week, and I should have known better than to accept Binglorn's invitation! What has a busy man like myself to do at a ball? I usually leave such affairs to your mother. She has a greater affinity for them. Why does that cousin of your father's hang about so officiously? Surely you're too smart a girl to encourage the likes of him!"
"But Uncle, what of Wickham?"
"Wickham? The Ranger? Oh, of course, the message! It at last comes to me! I am to give you and your sisters his apologies as he has been prevented from attending the ball. He shan't miss much, I dare say, though you girls do look very well this evening; but then you hardly need a fancy dress to appear lovely. It is a good thing that you all inherited your mother's looks. I do not believe you would have faired so well otherwise! There goes that man again! Sir, do you have some business with us?"
Mr. Collins appeared quite taken aback at Mr. Butterbur's abrupt address and said, "Dear sir! Pardon my intrusion, but your niece has most kindly bestowed upon myself the honor of her hand for the first dance, and I seek to claim it."
Mr. Butterbur looked uncertainly from his niece to the simpering little man before him and shook his head. "I suppose it is no business of mine whom my nieces choose to dance with!"
Mr. Collins bowed low and proceeded to lead a very sullen Elizabeth to the line of dancers that was forming in the center of the room. As she turned to face her partner, Elizabeth saw Darcë for the first time, and her cheeks crimsoned in anger. Her only consolation at that time was seeing that Jane and Binglorn would lead the first dance.
Then, all her emotions fell away as the loveliest sounds Elizabeth had ever heard drifted through the ballroom and mingled with the forming line of dancers. She turned in astonishment towards the music's source and beheld a quintet of elven minstrels. Not even her newly formed prejudice against their kind prevented her from being momentarily lost in the enchantment of their art.
But not even the most skilled elven minstrels could keep Elizabeth from noticing Mr. Collins' foot upon her own. From that moment, all notions of enchantment were quite lost upon her as she was pushed and pulled through all the steps of the dance. When the painful experience finally ended, Elizabeth noticed with dismay that the hem of her frock was torn.
Well, perhaps I look enough of a casualty to discourage Mr. Collins from demanding a second dance, Elizabeth thought as she made her way to where Charlotte Lucas stood. She breathed a sigh of relief as she turned and saw that Mr. Collins was engaged with Mary a good distance away.
"My dear Elizabeth," Charlotte whispered, "what were you dancing with?"
"A distant cousin of my father's as well as the man who will inherit Longbourn," Elizabeth replied with a scowl.
"And he is trying to attach himself to you," Charlotte observed thoughtfully. "Does he know he has a rival?"
"Rival? What are you talking about? When considering the likes of Mr. Collins, anyone could be considered a rival!"
Charlotte laughed at her friend's rejoinder and whispered, "Hush, Elizabeth! Speak more softly! The person in question is just behind us!"
With a dramatic movement, Elizabeth turned on her heel and then laughed heartily upon seeing to whom Charlotte was alluding.
"Dear Charlotte! I am in desperate need of amusement this evening, so pray tell me what led you to conclude that I have an admirer in one who considers me only tolerable."
"I will have you know that I considered his unfortunate remark before I came to my conclusion," Charlotte insisted with a teasing smile, "and I found it hard to believe that any noble, cultured being would wish to spend such an abundance of time gazing at what he thinks is only tolerable!"
Elizabeth shrugged. "He delights in finding fault with others, and I must be the object of his disdain for the evening. Besides, you have not considered everything, because you do not know everything there is to consider!"
"What do you mean?"
In a lowered voice, Elizabeth related to her friend all that Wickham had revealed to her, enumerating every particular that made Darcë appear to the most disadvantage. Charlotte's face became gradually more solemn as she listened to her.
"Wickham's tale is shocking, but...how can you be certain it is not no more than a tale? Darcë is less a stranger here than Wickham. Should we not give Darcë the benefit of the doubt?" Charlotte asked.
Elizabeth sighed in frustration. "You speak as Jane did. If Darcë can contradict it, then so be it! Until then, my opinions of both are fixed."
"Miss Bennet?"
Elizabeth jumped at the sound of her name and looked up to see the subject of her and Charlotte's debate standing before them. Elizabeth curtsied in acknowledgement of the elf lord while ignoring Charlotte's pointed look.
"I would be very happy if you would join me for the next dance, Miss Bennet," Darcë said with a smile Charlotte did not doubt was genuine.
Chapter 6
Elizabeth was so flustered by Darcë's unexpected application that she murmured her thanks without quite knowing what she was about. Darcë, considering this sufficient encouragement, held aloft his hand, and Elizabeth reluctantly accepted it, as no reasonable forms of refusal came to mind. She flushed with vexation when she saw how her hand trembled as it was enveloped by his larger one.
Charlotte, who observed this exchange with calculating eyes, was determined to keep to her conclusions, however much her friend may protest. After all, it has surely happened before, Charlotte thought. I am fairly certain I heard a tale somewhere of such an affair.
And so, once more that evening, the unfortunate Elizabeth found herself on the dance floor without any expectation that she would spend the minutes that would follow in a pleasant manner. Of course, she did not expect that Darcë would prove to be the clumsy oaf that her former partner had been. In fact, when the music began, he led her through the first steps and turns with the natural grace of a well-practiced dancer. Elizabeth almost admitted to herself that she was pleasantly surprised. However, this easy grace was all that Darcë had to recommend him as a dance partner, for he seemed determined to proceed without saying a word.
His partner endured his silence as long as she could (which was not very long) be fore she said, "I believe I once heard you say you did not enjoy balls."
"I admit that, as a rule, I do not. However, it does not necessarily follow that I would never take pleasure in a dance."
"Then, I may assume that your apparent mastery of the art of dancing proceeds from experience after all?" Elizabeth inquired with an arch smile.
"I have attended my fair share of dances, Miss Bennet, but perhaps it is the superior skill of one's partner that is the means of affecting one's own skill as a dancer."
Elizabeth, confused at his gallantry, said, "Your flattery is in vain, my lord. As I have already been informed of your true nature, I can sincerely say that it does not become you."
Darcë's expression darkened considerably, leaving Elizabeth without a doubt that he understood whom her informer was. Elizabeth decided venture further.
"My sisters and I have lately been fortunate to meet one who claims to be an old acquaintance of yours."
When Darcë did not respond, she said, "Oddly enough, we took him for a Ranger at first. He made it clear, however, that he is not of the Rangers, though perhaps it should have been otherwise. Indeed, I could not help feeling pity for his plight, made desperate because he placed his confidence here it was not deserved."
Darcë frowned and said, "I hope it is with the utmost care that you choose where to place your confidence, for the world is inhabited by many who would deceive."
"True," Elizabeth observed, vexed at his insinuation, "and I pride myself in my ability to find them out."
"Then you are fortunate, Miss Bennet," Darcë curtly replied.
They finished the dance in thoughtful silence, each wishing to say more but neither daring to do so, and parted with mutual dissatisfaction; but the heart of Darcë would not allow him to be displeased with Elizabeth, and his anger was directed towards another.
When Darcë returned Elizabeth to Charlotte's side, the latter asked, "Well, dear, was the experience as wretched as you anticipated?"
Elizabeth looked at Charlotte thoughtfully and said, "Truthfully, I do not know. I know not what to make of him most of the time. It does not matter though. I shall not make the mistake of agreeing to dance with him again."
Charlotte sighed wearily and led the way to the dining hall, as supper had just been announced.
At supper, Mr. Collins once again made his way to Elizabeth's side and procured a seat next to her at the table, an arrangement that left Elizabeth without an appetite. Charlotte was kind enough to sit on Elizabeth's other side and attempt to divert his attentions from Elizabeth.
During the brief moments when Mr. Collins was not pestering her, Elizabeth regarded her elder sister who was seated further down the table at Binglorn's right. Mrs. Bennet unluckily noticed this as well and did not scruple making known her hopes in a most audible fashion. Elizabeth, who being seated across from her could hear her boasts with perfect clarity, vainly tried to steer her mother towards another topic of conversation. Her mother would not understand her, though. What was worse was that Darcë had chosen the seat next to Mrs. Bennet. Though he appeared not to listen, Elizabeth did not mistake the distaste that shone in his eyes. Thankfully, Jane and Binglorn were too much engaged with each other to notice.
Lydia was the one who eventually disturbed the pair. She sprung upon them with Kitty following close behind.
"What are you two talking of so secretly?" Lydia demanded.
Jane and Binglorn's faces simultaneously turned a deep shade of red. Jane looked down in shame, but Binglorn soon recovered and said, "Good evening, Miss Lydia. I hope you are enjoying yourself!"
"Not at all! Kitty and I have not been able to find our dear Wickham anywhere! I know he must have been invited, so where have you hidden him? Our sister, Elizabeth has especially been hoping to see him!"
Upon hearing the latter, Darcë abruptly rose from the table and quitted the room. His exit was witnessed by few, however, as most eyes were directed towards the head of the table.
"I do apologize, Miss Lydia, but Wickham could not be found when sought for. Perhaps it would please you to hear some music? I am sure my elven friends would be willing to delight us once more with a song!"
Lydia was at once appeased, for she delighted in any opportunity for dancing, and she promptly left Binglorn in search of a partner.
Strangely enough, the music that soon began was not the lovely melodies that had previously enchanted their ears but strains of some simple ballad accompanied by a voice that painfully labored to reach the heights of a soprano. With the deepest mortification, Elizabeth and Jane found themselves familiar with the air and turned to see that their sister Mary, upon hearing a request for music, had hurried ahead of the elven minstrels, seized one of their harps and was playing upon it. The elves appeared not to know whether to be offended at Mary's impertinence or take pity on her sad lack of talent.
Elizabeth felt that she had reached the limit of what she could endure. Her younger sisters seemed absolutely determined to expose themselves. Her mother was of course oblivious to the impropriety of her sisters' actions, and her father appeared to be merely amused by them. Therefore, she could do little more than sit and watch the people around her laugh at her family's expense.
Outside, Mary's singing reached Darcë's ears, but he remarkably failed to notice it. He was preoccupied with his own internal struggle. He had made more than one discovery that evening that called for quick action.
After hearing Mrs. Bennet's comments, he had made a point of watching Binglorn and Miss Bennet together, and he came to the conclusion that it seemed likely his friend would soon enmesh himself in a difficult situation. Darcë did not intend to allow that to happen.
Darcë was also concerned with the danger his own feelings would pose to himself if he did not make a decision soon. He had long since admitted to himself the extent of his regard for Elizabeth Bennet, but this admittance did nothing to lessen his fear of it. As he gazed upward at Eärendil's star, his face assumed a look of grim determination. His decision was made.
As one would expect of the night following a ball, most of Longbourn's inhabitants were still asleep long after the sun had risen. Mr. Bennet, ever the early riser, savored this rare occasion of peace and quiet with a favorite book and a sip of his treasured miruvor. His morning passed so agreeably that he fancied he might not object to many more balls in the future. All the same, he welcomed his second eldest daughter with a warm smile when she entered his library and intruded upon his solitude. It is often seen, though, that the best of things are of short duration, and the companionable silence of father and daughter was no exception.
"ELIZABETH! ELIZABETH! YOU ARE WANTED IMMEDIATELY! Oh, where has that wretched girl hid herself? ELIZABETH!"
Mr. Bennet listened to his wife's shrieking with an air of calm, but he turned to Elizabeth with pleading eyes and said, "My dear, do go see if you can put a stop to that noise."
Elizabeth frowned in annoyance and left the security of her father's library.
"I will be here if I am needed," Mr. Bennet called after her (quite unnecessarily, of course).
Following her mother's cries into the drawing room, Elizabeth came face to face with her and Mr. Collins, each wearing a self-satisfied smile. She looked between the two suspiciously and regretted not following her first instinct of ignoring her mother's summons and escaping outdoors. Mrs. Bennet took her daughters hands and kissed her cheek.
"My dear, dear girl. I want you to sit here and listen to what Mr. Collins has to say to you."
Elizabeth watched with dismay as her mother turned to leave the room and called, "Mama, you need not leave! Mr. Collins cannot have- "
"Hush, silly girl, and stay where you are!" Mrs. Bennet commanded as she shut the door behind her.
Sighing deeply, Elizabeth turned to face Mr. Collins. The trepidation she felt as she stood alone to receive the addresses of the most odious of men was no doubt comparable to what Fingolfin, the High Elven King of old, felt upon daring to face Morgoth himself. But unlike that mighty warrior, Elizabeth was left unarmed and could only sit resignedly and await her doom.
"Miss Elizabeth, my dear cousin," Mr. Collins began, "you cannot but have noticed the fervent regard I have felt for you from the first moment - er, almost from the first moment of having met you; and considering how I am to inherit your father's estate, I think it most prudent that we marry. Lord Saruman the White himself recommended that I choose a wife from among the ladies of Longbourn and promised to welcome her with honor should I choose to bring her to Isengard. With such great considerations, your prospects as my wife, I flatter myself, are infinitely superior to all others you may have, therefore I am certain you will not hesitate to accept my hand."
The face of Mr. Collins' beloved had become an alarming shade of red by the time he completed his speech, but what he took to be the lovely blush of modesty was actually the affect of a great deal of suppressed laughter. As Elizabeth was in no condition to give a verbal response, Mr. Collins believed himself answered in the affirmative and proceeded to congratulate himself on the success of his suit.
"Dear Elizabeth, you are quite as intelligent as you are beautiful, as is evident by your choice in my favor!" Mr. Collins gushed as he took her hand. "That being decided, I will now relate the good news to your worthy parents!"
Elizabeth lost all sense of amusement in the situation when she saw how pitifully convinced Mr. Collins was of his victory over her heart.
"Sir!" Elizabeth called before he had left the room. "You are a bit hasty, as I have yet to make an answer! I thank you for your proposal, but I cannot accept it."
Unfortunately, this firm refusal did not seem to make an impression on the man, for he turned to regard her with a knowing smile saying, "Your feigned reluctance is most charming, my dear, though I hope it will be dispelled ere we meet at the alter!"
"You grossly misunderstand me, sir! Please take my refusal seriously, for I meant every word! Though I do not doubt your respectability, I cannot -I will not- accept your hand!"
"Nay, dearest, I understand! And may I say that your feminine modesty does your great credit. You will be a great asset to me, and I daresay Lord Saruman will applaud my choice!"
Feeling her temper rise at Mr. Collins' persistent absurdity, Elizabeth fled his presence in disgust and returned to the library where she found her father much as she had left him.
"I thank you, child. I have not heard a peep in the last five minutes at least," Mr. Bennet said as he turned a page in his book.
Though by no means a particularly intelligent sort, Mrs. Bennet found it less difficult than Mr. Collins to believe that Elizabeth had refused his proposal. Her ire upon discovering it reached the ears of every living creature within a ten-mile range of Longbourn and actually convinced a certain few that an army of Ring Wraiths was upon them. (If it had been so, it may be said that the situation would not have been as dire. After all, a Ring Wraith habitually prefers to attack in the dead of night in some dark, lonely place; and a Mrs. Bennet would just as soon attack in broad daylight as any other time, as long as an eligible bachelor was within reach!)
It did not take long after Mr. Collins was convinced of the hopelessness of his suit for him to come to the conclusion that his dear Lord Saruman the White surely could not be getting on without him. Within a day following this realization, Mr. Collins was hastening south upon his unfortunate steed, and a majority of the Bennet family was breathing sighs of relief. Thus, Saruman's cunning plan to rid himself of one of his more officious servants came to naught.
[Of course the reader familiar with Jane Austen's story will note that Mr. Collins' marital fate -or lack thereof- is a significant change. I am sorry, but I just could not do what Jane Austen did to poor Charlotte!]
A week had passed since the Netherfield Ball when Kitty and Lydia returned from an afternoon in town with the news that Binglorn and Darcë had left the region with no intention of returning in the near future. Most everyone was surprised and disturbed at the news, for different reasons. Elizabeth was pained for Jane's sake. Though Jane strove to conceal her feelings, Elizabeth was convinced her sister was deeply hurt that Binglorn had left without a word. Mrs. Bennet, of course, could be counted on to lament the loss of any prospective suitor. But more than anyone else, Mr. Bennet was uneasy about the abrupt departure, and when Kitty and Lydia had finished their tale, he retired to his library to write some letters.
"Everyone is leaving Bree these days! There have been no Rangers since before the ball!" Kitty whined.
"And there has been no word from Wickham," Lydia said as she eyed Elizabeth thoughtfully, "unless Elizabeth knows something we do not!"
Elizabeth chose to ignore this comment and went upstairs in search of Jane, who had disappeared when Binglorn's departure was first revealed. She tapped lightly upon Jane's door and received permission to enter.
"How are you, Jane?" Elizabeth asked tenderly.
"It matters not, Elizabeth," she whispered. "I shall be well and content, as I was before. Please do not be concerned for my sake. If I was mistaken about Binglorn's feelings, then I am to blame for it. And I believe I was mistaken."
"I do not believe that!" Elizabeth cried. "It cannot be doubted that Binglorn is very much in love with you! If anything, it is Darcë who has convinced him to leave, no doubt having had enough of lowly mortals. I am sure that once Binglorn has learned not to rely so much on the opinion of his friend, he will realize his mistake and return."
Jane regarded her sister sadly and said, "So you are still determined to think the worst of Binglorn's friend? I simply cannot imagine him as the villain you described. Well, whatever the part he has played, his intentions could not have been wrong."
Elizabeth sighed in exasperation. "Believe what you will, Jane. There can be no real harm in believing the best of everyone. I would have you know that I often envy you this."
Jane answered with a soft smile but turned away to hide the tears that had been threatening to reveal themselves. Elizabeth took the hint and bade her sister goodnight.
Summer reached Eriador soon after, but it offered no encouragement for the hopes that had been formed in the spring. Tidings of Binglorn never came, and Mrs. Bennet began once more to fret over the desolate futures of her daughters. Jane maintained her cheerful countenance as well as she could, but Elizabeth could always sense her inner melancholy. Elizabeth herself had to contend with her own disappointment. Wickham never returned to Bree. Though the acquaintance of less than a day, she could not forget the favorable impression he had made on her. She tried to lift her spirits with hopes that Wickham's fortune may take a turn for the better. With the disappearance of all the prospective suitors near Bree, the Rangers seemed to have disappeared as well. Thus, Kitty and Lydia became quite as quarrelsome as their mother and bemoaned the lack of diversion in their lives. Mary was perhaps the only one blessed with a heart unaffected by the dark moods that had infected Longbourn, for she found many opportunities for sermonizing to her younger sisters.
Mr. Bennet was not about to endure his wife's despondence any more than necessary and deemed that the time was right to go on an extended adventure. Months earlier, Gandalf had extended an invitation to him to go to Rivendell, and he had yet to accept. In view of recent events related to Binglorn and the Rangers (and not to mention the high concentration of female emotions that had pervaded his house), he thought it prudent to take Gandalf and Master Elrond up on their offer at once.
And I think I will at last take pity on poor Elizabeth by taking her along. She has played the part of the provincial country lass long enough, and it never became her, Mr. Bennet considered with a chuckle.
Author's Note: Yippee! I have been waiting for the point in my story when I can get Elizabeth out of Bree! (I was becoming as restless a she is! ;)) From this point, the story will be a lot more Tolkien-ish, as I plan on sending Lizzy on a Tolkien-ish outing during the next part. Merci bien to my readers and archivers!