Posted on Thursday, 28 January 1999

Elizabeth Bennet swooshed up the hill toward Netherfield House and her invalid sister. The walk, and the distance interposed between her and the inanities of her mother and sisters, had put her in a good mood. When all of a sudden, that arrogant Mr. Darcy appears from the other side of a bush.

'Oh Bother,' thought Elizabeth. 'There always has to be a fly in the ointment, does there not?'

"Miss Bennet!" Said Darcy with a superior raising of an eyebrow.

"Mr. Darcy. I am come to inquire after my sister." Was the reply.

"On foot?"

Elizabeth thought. 'Look at the sneer on that face,' she thought. 'Well, I am not my father's daughter for nothing.'

Elizabeth affected to look anxiously behind her, then to each side, and then between her legs, as if she were looking for something.

"Good heavens Mr. Darcy. I think you must be right. I had a phaeton and four white ponies when I left Longbourn, how silly of me to have mislaid them on the way here. I am indebted to you to have noticed that I am now on foot. I am sure that the stablehands would have been most puzzled had I come in as you see me, demanding that they look after my horses."

Darcy reddened, and Elizabeth felt sure that this was the very first time that anybody had been so impertinent to the man.

Darcy sniffed with disdain. "Ah. Country manners, I suppose. Or perhaps the lack of them."

'Oho, Mr. Darcy!' Thought Elizabeth, not in the least intimidated. 'Let's see how you deal with this next salvo then!'

"And I suppose that to stand in front of a Lady and declare her tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt one, is an example of London society manners? Or perhaps, the lack of them? I feel sure that that sort of behaviour is something that is considered beneath country gentlemen."

Darcy went a deep shade of red, with a mixture of mortification and anger.

Elizabeth thought. 'And for good measure, take this!'

She approached the man and addressed him. "Mr. Darcy, speaking of manners, surely your Mama told you not to leave your mouth open like that."

She moved to go past him, but as she did, she brought her hand up to his jaw to close his mouth, as a mother might do to a small child. She pursed her lips to suppress a laugh. With that she ran off toward Netherfield house, leaving a stunned Darcy staring after her running form, feeling his face, where the softness of her hands had been.

For the first time in his life, Darcy burned.