Jump to new as of January 16, 2004
Jump to new as of January 20, 2004

A Minor Authoress? - Part 1

Posted on Saturday, 10 January 2004

Elizabeth Bennet did her best to hide her sorrow from her family. Or rather from a small part of her family, Mrs. Bennet and her younger sisters wouldn’t notice, of that she could be quite assured. Her mother was still aflutter with having her youngest and her eldest married in the space of half a year. Mr. Bennet hid in his library as much as he could, he had to overcome all the disturbance two weddings had brought upon his household and Jane was still on her wedding trip, otherwise Lizzy would have been found out rather quickly.

There had been nothing to celebrate about Lydia’s marriage to Mr. Wickham but Mrs. Bennet omitted such thoughts successfully from her conscious mind, if indeed she had them at all. They had nearly despaired when Lydia had eloped with that worthless scoundrel and neither did the family hear of their marriage nor could the couple be found in London. After an agonizing week a letter from Mr. Gardiner had put their minds at rest, for a while at least, because they had been found and were to be married. Lizzy knew however that Lydia’s happiness could not be lasting with such a husband and that her father worried greatly about repaying his brother-in-law the sum he undoubtedly had to lay out to bring the marriage about.

But Elizabeth did not yet worry about her youngest sister. Her sorrow was exclusively her own and she also had no one to whom she could unburden her heart. Well, her Aunt Gardiner, maybe, but somehow Lizzy felt that she didn’t deserve the relief such a confession would bring; that she had brought this upon herself and therefore had to deal with the consequences alone. Besides, Mrs. Gardiner could do nothing more than lend a sympathetic ear; she could not help.

Of that Elizabeth was mistaken, Mrs. Gardiner would have been able to quiet her niece’s heart considerably, for if presented with the latter’s heartbreak over Mr. Darcy she would not feel bound to her promise to the gentleman to say nothing of his involvement in bringing about Lydia’s marriage. And then Lizzy would be able to have a little more faith in him and herself and would see that his reserve during their few encounters after the day Lizzy had received that horrible letter telling of Lydia’s infamy in Mr. Darcy’s presence at the inn in Lambton was rather a sign of a man still very much in love and not – as Lizzy presumed – an expression of disgust with her family’s situation.

But her own reserve and even more her sense of pride prompted Lizzy to deal with her sorrow alone, thus robbing herself of her chance of happiness.

After returning to Hertfordshire with Bingley, Mr. Darcy had been silent and grave. Elizabeth had been mortified beyond control by her mother’s crooning over Lydia’s marriage, she felt for sure that now, when she wished for his continuing regard so fervently, he could not bear to align himself to her, to the sister-in-law of Wickham. Mr. Darcy’s behaviour seemed to stress this line of thought, he would not meet her eye and when by chance she had an opportunity to talk to him he would soon lapse into silence again.

The day he came to dine at Longbourn presented Lizzy with another opportunity to gauge his feelings, for she wouldn’t and couldn’t give up hope so soon, but Henrietta Long prevented her from having more than a few words with Mr. Darcy. And when he failed to return from London due to business, Lizzy felt her suspicions confirmed. Yet still, was she not ready to relinquish her hopes for them to find their happiness for surely Bingley’s wedding to Jane would throw them into each others company again. And although Elizabeth found herself uncommonly tongue-tied in the company of Mr. Darcy she resolved on trying to show him her change of sentiments, no matter how embarrassing or improper that would be.

But Elizabeth’s hopes were to be dashed. Mr. Darcy came to the wedding together with his sister, a sweet and shy girl, only to be as grave as ever. When spotting Mr. Darcy standing quite on his own by a window Lizzy was torn between alleviating Miss Darcy’s apparent distress over Mrs. Bennet’s mentioning Mr. Wickham and her need to grab what may be the only chance to talk to Mr. Darcy during the wedding breakfast.

If only Mr. Darcy would have drawn the right conclusions from Lizzy´s altruistic act, but so ingrained was his conviction that she should blame him for not making Wickham’s character public that he only saw her uncharacteristic silence during the festivities and attributed it to her disgust over his presence. As Miss Darcy appeared to be unwell soon after, he took the chance to leave without distressing his beloved further.

And so, after another two months, Lizzy tried very hard to overcome her heartbreak. Yet she could think of nothing to divert her thoughts. Studying the various characters of her neighbours only bored her now, she had no patience for her music, of books she could only read the dullest ones and even those awakened in her the wish to discuss them with Mr. Darcy. Even her favourite walks held no appeal for her any longer, too often had she envisioned the previous months of desire to walk them one day with Darcy.

When however she read again through her diary of the last year a thought began to form in her mind …

Part 2

Posted on Tuesday, 13 January 2004,

Perusing her diary had brought on an idea to Elizabeth’s mind – she would write a book! She had to chuckle over certain passages she’d written, descriptions of Sir William Lucas and Mr. Collins in particular, and was prepared to see the funny side in some of her encounters with Mr. Darcy. If only there’d been a happy end to their shared history she indeed would be able to laugh a lot about their first year of acquaintance.

Out of the blue Lizzy´s throat seemed constricted anew but she realized that even briefly thinking of writing her sorrow down had given her much relief. Writing everything down would be the next best thing to actually talking to someone. Elizabeth was prepared to go a long way to achieve feeling better, she was truly fed up with her own moping around, she had to find a way to deal with her own disappointment whilst retaining her own dignity and to think of Mr. Darcy fondly without letting her thoughts run away in daydreams.

Finally, with an aim, Elizabeth delved into her self-appointed task with energy and zeal. She outlined the story until after Hunsford but soon realized that she would have to change some names and characters to prevent embarrassment and exposure should her work ever fall into other hands.

The names of Bennet and Darcy were common enough, so she kept that but added to her own family two new sisters between herself and Lydia, thus also making her mother’s zeal in marrying off her daughters well more understandable. Mr. Darcy lost his elder sister who was married in Ireland and Georgiana was made a little younger, to accentuate her innocence and Wickham’s profligacy. Her own father’s estate got the name of Longbourn and was transferred closer to London, to Hertfordshire, while Mr. Darcy had to move his home from Cornwall to Derbyshire.

With certain schadenfreude did Elizabeth change the name of Darcy’s friend into Bingley, a family of carriage makers in Manchester, thus exposing Caroline’s hypocrisy even more. The elder sister, Louise, Lizzy married off to a drunk named Hurst (a name which went nicely with thirst). Satisfied Elizabeth leaned back. This would do nicely, only a person directly involved – like Mr. Darcy – would potentially guess the real persons, but no one besides herself was to read it anyway. Now only a convincing title was lacking. After some deliberation Elizabeth settled for “First Impressions”, not wholly convinced by it, but it would do nicely for now.

As the next days brought spells of rain and grim weather Lizzy started to write immediately. She was amazed at how easily words flew from her pen, only when her hand got cramped and her neck stiff was she forced to stop. Her occupation did not go unnoticed by her father but fortunately no one wanted to read her work.

After the Brinkleys return Lizzy often went for a visit with Jane and then spent hours in the library writing while her sister gracefully and patiently entertained neighbours, her mother and her Aunt Philipps. Writing had indeed proved to be a fine distraction; only in her darkest hours did Lizzy sink back into that gloom that had tinted her very being since Darcy left after Jane’s wedding to his friend. Charles did not have news from his friend, having received only one letter after the honeymoon stating the Darcys being at Pemberley and all being well.

Elizabeth longed to hear more from Darcy, and from Georgiana as well, and was sorely tempted to simply write to Miss Darcy. But if her brother could not bear the association he could also not want such a correspondent for his sister.

In her book, Lizzy had progressed so far as to the events of Lambton. She had enjoyed reliving the wonderful feeling of security in his love that she’d experienced for one day, when they were visiting Pemberley. Elizabeth had to change however how she’d met Darcy on his grounds, too embarrassed was she to tell of how he’d looked, without hat and coat, soaking wet after a swim. She still blushed when recalling how his fine linen shirt had clung to his body and what her reaction to this sight had been. No, their fictional meeting was restricted to surprise, blushes and – if the reader had a vivid enough imagination – slight hints of how appealingly disheveled Darcy might look after a hard ride.

Elizabeth every so often caught herself thinking of how readers might react to her story. She began to seriously contemplate engaging Mr. Gardiner’s help for contacting a publisher.

But for now she had to find a solution for continuing her story line. After re-reading her book so far Elizabeth was quite pleased with her effort and how she’d managed to preserve a light tone throughout the whole novel. Anything other than a happy ending was impossible. For days she pondered about an incident that would trigger Darcy’s return because spinning a tale about how their hearts communicated each others longing for another did not sit well with her, far too mushy, she was no romantic after all – or was she?

Help came from an unexpected source. During a visit at Lucas Lodge Maria talked – again – of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and then Lady Lucas made a remark about how, after the weddings of the eldest and the youngest Bennet sisters, everyone had been in expectation of Lizzy´s marriage, too.

A thought began to form in Elizabeth’s mind. One wedding usually made people think of another, what could be more natural than pairing of best man with maid of honour? Taking Charlotte’s conviction – which had proved to be right after all – into account that Mr. Darcy was in love with Elizabeth the tale she concocted now was not wholly unimaginable: Lady Catherine heard a rumour that her precious nephew was to marry that upstart Elizabeth Bennet and promptly drove to Longbourn, there furiously demanding a promise from Elizabeth never to marry Mr. Darcy.

Lizzy of course let her alter ego steadfastly refuse and drew much pleasure from letting Lizzy in the book say a whole many things to Lady Catherine she herself had wanted to say. Then the tale continued with the angry aunt rushing off to get a promise from her nephew. Elizabeth saw the potential a scene between them had but was very anxious to write a happy end, so she skipped the scene between Mr. Darcy and his aunt and proceeded to Darcy´s return to Hertfordshire.

Writing the end of the book was a thoroughly demanding task, after finishing her novel Elizabeth wept from sheer exhaustion and from the turmoil of emotions it had brought on again. Oh how she longed to be in her own book, to have the comfort of his arms!

Part 3

Posted on Friday, 16 January 2004

He had taken Miss Bennet’s reproofs to heart. Even if he knew that she probably would never hear of it, he had striven to become a better man just for the sake of it. And although one could not say he was at ease now in social situations, Darcy himself drew satisfaction from taking a real interest in other people’s live and not just responsibility. His servants and tenants had always esteemed him as a fair and generous master but now they felt this marked change in his demeanor.

One evening late in August, Darcy asked his sister after dinner whether they should proceed to the music room. Although the air was warm still, a thunderstorm was clearly brewing from the west. The better part of Pemberley’s harvest was safely in the barns, Darcy only hoped that there would be no fires tonight. Georgiana smiled apologetically at her brother.

“I will play for you tomorrow, William, but if you do not mind, I can’t wait to finish the new novel cousin Richard sent from London.”

Darcy smiled.

“Of course I will not detain you from your book. I’ll be in my study for about an hour to finish some business matters.”

He was hardly out of the room when Georgiana had already buried her nose in the book. Darcy sighed. His little sister had come a long way from the devastation two years ago the events at Ramsgate had brought on her. He felt that she could make her coming out the following season but he couldn’t help thinking of how much easier and enjoyable this endeavor would have been for her with Elizabeth at her side, not to mention for himself.

In the study he settled behind his desk but instead of attending his letters – not that they were urgent, in fact everything concerning the estate had been diligently taken care of – stared out of the window at the enfolding thunderstorm. If only Elizabeth were here! The clattering of a window pane broke Darcy’s reverie. He stood up to close the window and saw that indeed an hour had passed and that he should return to Georgiana.

Upon his entry into the drawing room he was startled however to find Georgiana crying. Darcy rushed to her side, gently taking her into his arms.

“Whatever is the matter, Sweetling?”

In between sobs Georgiana managed a reply.

“Do not worry, brother, it’s only the book, I am so happy, and yet it was so sad when it looked as though they wouldn’t meet again.”

Darcy continued to hold her until she’d quieted down somewhat, silently condemning his cousin for sending Georgiana such disturbing books. After a while his sister resolutely if not strictly ladylike blew her nose.

“I must recommend this book to you, William, it is written with a light touch but still conveys so much truth about people in general. One of the men somehow reminded me of you, only that you’re not so proud and would never talk to a lady in such a manner.”

Darcy´s head went up at this. He reached for the book - Pride and Prejudice, written by A Lady . He’d never heard of it and flicked through the first few pages. When his eye caught the name of Bennet he startled and began to read in earnest. The style was elegant and pleasing and people were described in a fashion much to the point yet in a gently teasing manner. Somehow Darcy felt himself reminded of Elizabeth’s approach to her neighbours.

“I’ll lend it to you, William.”

“Ah, yes. This beginning sounds intriguing. I think I’ll take it upstairs to read.”

“Well then, good night, brother, although I’m quite sure you won’t get any sleep tonight, if you start reading now.”

“´Night, dear.” – Darcy was already lost in the book.

He was by no means a stupid man but still, there was no way he could have suspected something like this, so it took him until halfway into the Meryton assembly to get a clue as to who the authoress was. Darcy was spellbound and only a very distinctive yawn from a waiting footman told him he should retire and not keep his whole household awake.

He dismissed his valet and settled in front of the hearth in his room.

Elizabeth – for he was sure the authoress had to be her – had managed to recapture their conversation to the point without giving away too much. Feverishly he read on until Hunsford. Although he knew that she’d held him in no fond regard it pained him to read how clueless she’d really had been.

Gratifying for Darcy was to learn of her reaction to his letter although he thought her too reproachful to herself.

When he reached the events happening in Lambton and Pemberley his heart fairly sang. With some relief he saw that she’d spared him the humiliation of appearing in a book thoroughly soaked but he could detect sparks flying between the lines. From happiness to desperation his mood plunged when he read of how she’d taken his behaviour at the inn as disgust, as desire to be gone from her presence.

But she’d guessed right about his interference – and it could only be a guess as certain vital details in the narrative were different from actual happenings. By the time it had come to his return to Devon with Charles, he berated himself for his reserve, nay timidity, on not approaching her. She’d been waiting for a sign! She’d been expecting his assurances and would have happily answered them in a positive manner! They could have been married for half a year by now if he’d shown more courage!

The clock struck three by then yet Darcy couldn’t lay the book away, he had to know what outcome of their relationship Elizabeth wished. He actually had to laugh out loud at the set –down his beloved thought fitting for his aunt. If only Lady Catherine would have meddled thus in real life!

On reading the happy end Elizabeth had dreamt up for them Darcy felt like crying, partly because of the story and partly with relief. Maybe he wasn’t doomed for a lonely life without her after all! Granted, the better part of a year had passed since they’d seen each other but as the book was brand new, a few months ago she’d still been waiting for him.

And he had to make sure, had simply had.

Part 4

Posted on Monday, 19 January 2004

As it was half past four already, Darcy rose and changed into riding clothes. He was thankful that in real life Miss Bennet and he didn’t live in Derbyshire and Hertfordshire like in the book but in the neighbouring counties of Cornwall and Devon. If he started soon and rode all day, changing horses twice, he would reach Ansdown, her father’s estate, before the evening. He wrote a short note to Mrs. Reynolds and his steward and a even shorter one to Georgiana.

Dear Georgie,

I enjoyed the book greatly. As Elizabeth Bennet in real life lives in Devon, I am on my way as you read this. Wish me luck!

F.

The roads were good and Darcy was able to travel fast, although he would have wished it to be a little cooler. Even if he managed to be at her home in time for a late call, he would be in a sad state indeed. But then – hadn’t she seen him worse and not thought ill of him, consequently? Maybe he should look for a pond near Netherfield. Darcy had to laugh at this, startling a farmer on his cart, as he passed by.

Elizabeth couldn’t be quite sure what caused her restlessness. Was it the stale heat or was it her mother´s constant complaining? Whatever, she looked forward to a visit to Jane, to pleasant conversation and iced tea, to a few peaceful hours in Netherfield’s cool library while Jane took her afternoon nap. As she was five months pregnant she felt the heat particularly. Elizabeth remembered her own jokes about never finding a man she would love enough to marry and therefore be the maiden aunt that teaches Jane’s ten children embroidery and the piano. Well, the first of her nieces (or nephews) would be born before the winter was over. But picturing herself as the maiden aunt didn’t sit so well with Lizzy anymore. To be honest, she wanted a family of her own, and with Fitzwilliam.

Jane was well, glowing with contentedness about her state, and Charles beaming as usual. Lizzy spent a pleasant day with her sister and her husband and didn’t at all like to return to Ansdown.

Mrs. Bennet retired early after dinner, affected too by the humidity. As Elizabeth stared wistfully out the window, Mr. Bennet remarked

“No rain in sight, is it?”

“No, Papa. But we must not wish for it right now, not everyone is ready with the harvest, yet.”

“Right, my dear. What do you think about a game of chess in the library? It’s cooler there.”

“I’d much rather take a short walk to the little stream on the border, if you don’t mind.”

“Be off, Lizzy. On a day like this I would be an easy prey for you anyway on the chess board. But do return before it gets dark, will you?”

“I will.”

After changing his horse for the second time, Darcy guessed to be about 12 Miles from Ansdown. He was getting tired and first doubts began to seep into his consciousness. Had he been to impulsive? What if Elizabeth was not at home? She could be visiting the Gardiners or friends and if he barged into Ansdown in his present state it could be a very embarrassing visit if Elizabeth was indeed away from home. On the other hand – did he care about making a fool of himself in front of her parents? No, not any longer. Darcy rode on.

Elizabeth sat down on a large stone on the bank of the little stream. Usually its gentle murmuring managed to calm her down but not today. She wondered whether there wasn’t a thunderstorm coming after all.

As this was a special hiding place for herself and her sisters, Lizzy felt sure enough of not to be disturbed and - after a quick glance at her surroundings – rid herself of her shoes and stockings.

The closer he came to Ansdown the more the idea of taking a swim appealed to Darcy. But he couldn’t remember any other pond than the one in Netherfield which he remembered as being rather murky. Then he thought of the little stream that marked the border between the grounds of Netherfield and Ansdown. He decided to ride there, water his horse, get the dust of the road off his face and change into a clean shirt.

Passing Netherfield on a ridge, Darcy went down into the little valley. If not for the dense leaves he would be able to see Ansdown already. Oh Elizabeth! He rode slowly, looking out for a good spot to get to the river bank.

After cooling her neck and wrists, Lizzy lifted her skirts and gingerly stepped into the water. She let the water flow around her ankles and wriggled her toes in delight. Then she hitched the skirts higher and ventured into deeper waters. This was pure bliss! Elizabeth longed to be able to take a swim but not even her liberal father would tolerate such behaviour. Dusk began already to settle between the trees so she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stay for very much longer. “Do not fret about what you can’t have, enjoy what you have.” she thought to herself.

Just then to her utter astonishment Lizzy heard a rider make his way through the bushes towards the stream. She scrambled back to her side of the river, nearly taking a dive when she slipped on a mossy stone. Elizabeth didn’t have time to put on her stockings and shoes, she only managed to grab them and hide behind a little elder, not much of a hiding place really but a passer-by wouldn’t necessarily notice her.

Darcy slipped from his mount, only then noticing how weary to the bone he was. Poor Elizabeth, she certainly deserved an admirer in a better state; time to freshen up. He tied his horse to a tree close enough to the water a little further down and then freed himself of his waistcoat. The coat he had shed some hours earlier, quite sure that none of the farmers and farmhands he had passed on the little roads to this corner of Devon would find fault with this breach of propriety as they’d been out in the heat all day, same as he.

The cravat had to go as well. He had tied it this morning without his valet, so it was less severe anyway, but still too constricting. Darcy knelt at the bank and bent down to wash his face and cool his neck. As he saw the water to be deep enough on an impulse he put his head under water. The sensation was thoroughly refreshing. Now a clean shirt and he was ready to face Elizabeth.

He began to pluck it out from his breeches when he felt self-conscious suddenly. Granted, he could expect to be alone here, but he should make sure. Turning around he saw and heard nobody so continued to undress.

Just as Darcy was pulling his shirt over his head he imagined hearing a gasp. A gasp from the other side of the river. Clutching the now bundled shirt to his breast he looked up and saw no one other than Miss Bennet peeking out of a elder bush, a few yards from him.

Her eyes were large and one hand was covering her mouth. He couldn’t be sure because of the settling darkness but thought her blush to be as deep as his.

Darcy scrambled to his feet, nearly stumbling into the river in the process, and managed a bow. As Miss Bennet came forward from behind her elder he saw that she wore neither shoes nor stockings. She curtsied.

The decent thing to do for both of them would have been to retreat and dress properly, but neither moved. At last Darcy spoke tentatively.

“Elizabeth.”

His use of her first name made her face light up in a tentative smile.

“Fitzwilliam, you came.”

He could feel the gentle caress of her calling him thus on the naked skin of his shoulders. Without thinking he crossed the little stream in a few strides. There weren’t any further preliminaries necessary. Darcy dropped his shirt and took her hands in his.

“Yes, I came at last. - Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, can you bear to be married to a thick-headed fool?”

She looked up at him and her eyes seemed to mist over.

“Only if the fool is you, my love. – Yes, I would be very happy to marry you.”

Darcy had drawn her hands to his chest. Elizabeth had thought seeing him without a shirt was more than she could bear, but now had to own that feeling his smooth skin, the steady beat of his heart, were her undoing. She slipped her hands from his grasp and reached around his neck. Darcy drew his arms around her waist and, after receiving a smile as answer to his unspoken question, leaned down to kiss her.

Tentative at first, their kiss soon deepened and there was no saying whereto things might have progressed had not the sensation of his hand cupping her breast brought Elizabeth back to her senses. Although she couldn’t bring herself to relinquish his surprisingly soft lips yet, she very gently pushed him away a little bit.

It was Darcy who broke their kiss, very embarrassed about what he’d done. Lizzy couldn’t bear to see him so and therefore snuggled under his chin, her arms firmly locked behind his back. She inhaled his scent and was sorely tempted to kiss the skin on his neck, on his chest. He couldn’t know that she had dreamed about doing so since meeting him at Pemberley, when his wet shirt had left her in no doubt about what he would look without (not that this experience had prepared her for the actual sight, no).

“Elizabeth, I am sorry – “

“My love, do not be.”

Elizabeth raised her head to look him into his eyes and continued

“If you insist on being sorry you can make up by helping me to convince my mother of a short engagement, a very short one.”

Her beloved smiled down on her with an expression of heartfelt delight only the happiest of men can produce.

“Shall I accompany you home now to speak to your father?”

This made Lizzy realize that is was already dark and that she’d promised her father to be home some time ago.

“Oh, my father! He will get worried soon. Will you come tomorrow after breakfast?”

Darcy only nodded, he didn’t trust his voice as talking of getting her father’s consent had made the events of the last half hour suddenly real to him. She had said yes! They were to be married after all!

Both knew they were on dangerous ground but none would have parted from the other without another kiss.

Lizzy knew that running was not exactly ladylike but also that she would never be able to leave his side if she didn’t put distance between them quickly. Darcy didn’t mind, too busy was he to admire her still unclad ankles.

Upon reaching the wood she turned around for a last wave, knowing that the sight of her fiancée, standing at the bank of a stream without a shirt on would be in her memory forever.

The End