Prologue Posted on Friday, 14 January 2000
I know Emma Tennant has been used a few times recently, but it was the only device I could think of to get the Darcys out of their book. So thank you whoever used it and got it in my head so I could start this rather dreadful tale.
It was just a normal day for Fitzwilliam Darcy. Since Jane Austen had left him married to Elizabeth, presumably happily ever after, he had been performing the same routine for over a hundred years. The morning started when the rooster crowed. He kissed his wife, got out of bed, and wandered into his own chamber to get dressed. After breakfast he was surprised to see Mr. Bennet arrive on a surprise visit, as he had every other day for a century. The morning mail brought a begging letter from Lydia, and Elizabeth replied to it, slipping in a small amount of her pin money. Then came dinner, and he knew that in the afternoon he would see his dear friend Bingley and they'd have tea and then he'd listen to Georgiana practise the pianoforte and then they'd go to bed. It was really rather boring, being a fictional character. No variety. No new characters to meet. Hardly even a trip to London. At least he had kept his looks.
I should really have said that it was just a normal morning for Darcy, because while he was eating his midday meal, Elizabeth dropped a bombshell. Well, not a real bombshell, because that would have been particularly messy as they were eating a roast with pumpkin and cabbage (which Darcy was carefully hiding under the table). What she really did was tell him some shocking news.
"Fitzwilliam," she said, blushing slightly. "I feel we need to talk about my inability to bear children."
Darcy spat some pumpkin out. "What!?" he cried.
"Well, you see, we have been married a year now. I think that we should really have some children by now. Jane and Mr. Bingley have four darling little ones, and then there's Lydia with her six..."
Darcy realised what it was that had been troubling him for the last minute. Well, one of the things.
"Where did your father go?" he asked.
"Mr. Darcy, how could you be so cruel? You know perfectly well that he died last month."
"But he was just here, he arrived this morning..."
Elizabeth looked like she was about to sob. Darcy felt terrible. He had to go to his study to think.
There was only one explanation for what was happening. Someone was writing a sequel! And seeing as Jane Austen could no longer possibly be alive, it had to be somebody else! Satisfied with his powers of deduction, Darcy settled back in his chair and closed his eyes. Then he remembered what Elizabeth had been saying.
"Mr. Bennet dead! That means that simpering idiot Mr. Collins has inherited Longbourn. Where does Mrs. Bennet have to come but here? We must escape this horrible sequel! Where's Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth, when he found her, took some persuading that they had to leave. At first she refused to believe that their lives had been turned into a mess by some imbecile. But when he pointed out the biological impossibility of Jane having four children of different ages in one year, she realised that this could not be what Jane Austen had intended as her destiny. She agreed that they must leave.
"Especially," she added "since I'm about to find out Bingley had an affair with a French woman."
Darcy frowned. "I wish there was a way we could save him and your sister too, but I fear there is none. We must leave as quickly and quietly as possible, so the author doesn't notice."
"She doesn't seem to have noticed much else," commented his wife.
They made only a few preparations. Darcy filled his old school satchel with some food, and they both wrote letters explaining where they had gone. Then they found the edge of the book, and prepared to escape their programming.
"One, two, three, JUMP!!!" yelled Darcy (quietly in case he was overheard.)
Elizabeth closed her eyes, grabbed her husband's hand, and leapt into nothingness...
Chapter 1 Posted on Sunday, 16 January 2000
Elizabeth opened her eyes when she felt her feet touch on solid ground. Darcy was still clutching her hand (though he'd say later it was the other way round). They looked at each other first, and then gazed around this amazing new world they found themselves in.
They were standing on a wooden floor. In front of them was a large wall. Turning around, they saw a sudden drop to what appeared to be carpet- they were on some sort of ledge. Either side towered enormous...books. Darcy craned his neck to read what was on the book they'd jumped from.
"Pemberley," he read. "By Emma Tennant. So that's who's responsible! I swear, if I ever meet up with her, I'll..."
"Oh do restrain yourself. Revenge is all very well but firstly we must decide what to do from here," said Lizzy. "What hope is there for two fictional characters the size of pins let out in the big wide world?"
"Is there a way off the shelf?" Darcy asked. Cautiously he crept forward and peered around their book. The only way off was to jump from shelf to shelf, and that was a large enough jump even without the fear of falling. Their only hope was to wait for someone to take a book off the shelf and hold on.
"It's no use, we're stuck here," he said finally.
Elizabeth was deep in thought.
"We can't last long," she said. "We don't have much food and there's no way off this shelf. And as much as I love your company, it could get rather dull sitting here, just the two of us, for an indeterminate amount of time."
Darcy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "We wouldn't have to just...sit," he said.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I was thinking, if we can jump out of our own book..."
"Yes?" asked Darcy, disappointed.
"...Then we should be able to jump into other books. We could visit strange lands, meet new people, and more importantly, find food."
Darcy looked again at the drop to the ground. He looked at the narrow space between books that they had to sit (or not just...sit) and then at the cover of "Pemberley."
"Certainly," he said, looking directly at Elizabeth now. "Let's try for it. Whatever we find, it can't be any worse than what we have left."
Together they decided that they may as well try the closest book. Elizabeth tried to read the title but couldn't make it out in the gloom. It seemed to be something like "Emma" and seeing as she thought she saw the words "Jane Austen" written there, she and Darcy decided it was a fairly safe bet. Once more they clasped hands and dived into the cover. Darcy had half expected to hit a hard surface, but sure enough, they landed in a soft field.
"If only the superior sisters could see us now," laughed Elizabeth as she wiped a spatter of mud off her husband's cheek.
Once they had cleaned themselves up a bit, they looked around to see where they were. They were all alone in the field, apart from a solitary cow who was munching some grass reflectively and didn't seem to have noticed their ungraceful arrival. There was a large house in the distance and so the Darcys resolved to head in that direction and see what transpired. It wasn't a difficult walk for two so used to cross country jaunts, and it only took about twenty minutes for them to reach the front door of the house. Darcy quickly made sure that they looked fit to meet anyone, and then used the heavy knocker to summon whoever lay inside.
It seemed a long time before the knock was answered by a butler, who peered around the door suspiciously.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Could we speak to your master, please?" asked Elizabeth politely.
"The master's not in. Good day," replied the servant, shutting the door.
"Wait!" cried Elizabeth.
"What now?" he asked grumpily.
"Could we trouble you to tell us where we are?"
The butler exhaled noisily. What sort of lunatics were these people, rocking up on the doorstep with petticoat ten inches deep in mud and not even knowing where they were?
"This is Donwell Abbey, ma'am. The master can be found at Hartfield. Just take this road to the village and ask directions there. Good day, sir, madam." And he shut the door.
"Well!" exhaled Lizzy. "Of all the..."
"Shall we perhaps just go into the village?" asked Darcy, who was a lot calmer.
Which is what they did. It was a charming little village, and they asked at the post office where they could find Hartfield, for, as Darcy said, they had no other destination.
Hartfield was a large house, though of course not so large as Pemberley. The servant who answered Darcy's knock led them into a pleasant sitting room, where they waited until a pleasant looking chap maybe ten years older than Darcy came into the room. Once the introductions were made, where they discovered his name to be Knightley, everyone sat and they sat...and not a lot was said, as it really was a most awkward situation. Darcy was too shy to say anything, and Elizabeth was wishing she hadn't been so rash in suggesting they come here. Knightley was at first bemused, and then a little impatient.
"How did you come to be in this area, then?" he asked.
"Um...we are travelling through to London, and are breaking our journey here," replied Elizabeth, inwardly wincing at her lie.
"Ah, indeed? Then where are you travelling from?"
"I own an estate in Derbyshire," replied Darcy.
"And more property in the south, I presume?" inquired Knightley.
"Ah, no."
"Then you have been to Bath?"
"Yes," Elizabeth said hastily, seeing her husband was confused. "My husband had to take the waters for his...gout."
"But..." protested Darcy.
"It did him a world of good, didn't it darling?"
"Now look here, I-"
Knightley interrupted. "Do you mind me asking what you are doing here?" he asked. "First you turn up at my door without a carriage or servants or anything, then you spin some ridiculous story about your travelling, and you completely waste my time. Now if you will excuse me, I must..."
He was interrupted by the door opening and a young woman about Elizabeth's age walking in the room.
"There you are, Emma," he said in a tone so soft it would make for a very comfortable night's sleep.
"Who are these people, Mr. Knightley?" she asked.
"They were just leaving," he said, standing up.
"Oh, very well then. Listen, I have something to tell you. It doesn't matter if they hear. The countess and I...well, we're going to London together tonight. And I have to tell you, I don't think we'll be coming back."
"What?" thundered Knightley, before beginning to cry.
"Hang on, I thought this was a Jane Austen novel," said Elizabeth, confused at the sudden turn of events. Emma left the room.
"It was," said Knightley, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose on a large red spotted hanky. "Jane Austen left us in perfect happiness at the end of the book. But then a few months ago our lives became shattered. Now Emma's leaving me for another woman and I don't know what I'm going to do!"
Darcy and Elizabeth looked at each other. Darcy nodded slightly.
"You could come with us," Elizabeth offered. "We've just left a very similar situation." Quickly she outlined all that had happened to her and her husband.
Knightley folded up his handkerchief. "It sounds ideal. There is nothing left for me here any more. Let us go now."
With one last look at his wife's portrait that hung on the wall, Knightley and the Darcys stepped outside.
"We have to go back to where we entered this book," said Darcy. "I think I remember where it was, it was just below your house."
"I know the place," Knightley nodded. "I do know a shortcut, but I think perhaps we should go via the village, as we should stock up on some whiskey and other supplies."
They had just left the store and were standing on the steps, when a middle aged lady came out of the shop across the road.
"Oh no, it's Miss Bates," said Knightley. "I think she's seen me...oh, no! She's crossing the street. She's heading this way!"
"Mr. Knightley!" came a shrill voice from the mouth of Miss Bates. "How fortunate it is that I see you here today! Mother and I were just saying..."
"Quick, save yourselves!" yelled Knightley as Miss Bates prepared to engage in a long conversation. Darcy was loath to leave his new friend, but one more glance at the earnest face of Miss Bates decided him. He grabbed Elizabeth's hand and ran until they were out of earshot, which was at the edge of the book.
"We may as well jump," he said sadly. "I don't think Knightley can escape, and we're not safe here. Emma Tennant may notice us at any moment."
Somberly, they exited the field, and found themselves once more on the bookshelf.
Characters and setting taken from Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights". I mean no disrespect to the author or anyone who likes this book. I do myself, but I was sort of stuck for ideas.
After leaving Knightley to the mercies of the village gossip, Elizabeth and Darcy were too ashamed to look each other in the eye.
"It's what he wanted," Elizabeth said finally. "He told us to save ourselves."
"But I'm sure we could have done something! Created a distraction... something... to get him out of the clutches of that woman!" said Darcy, who had rather less patience when dealing with irritating women.
"My dear husband!" Elizabeth said. "Look at me." She put her hands on his shoulders and turned his face towards her own. "There was absolutely nothing we could have done to help him. Don't worry about a character from an entirely different book! We have ourselves to worry about, and then there's poor Jane and Mr. Bingley... Mr. Knightley knows where to leave, and can now do so at any time. Well, as soon as he gets away from that Miss Bates character at any rate."
Darcy brightened. "I hadn't thought of that. What a lucky thing I had you, my dear."
"I just ask one thing of you before I let you go."
"What's that?" he asked hopefully.
"That you make a pact never to go inside a book bearing the words Emma Tennant again! Even Jane Austen could be too risky. You never know when ET'll get her slimy claws on the other novels."
Darcy didn't take long to consider this. His wife was, in the manner of most of her fair sex, completely right and logical. He agreed and she loosened her grip on his shoulders, but didn't quite let go.
"So," said Darcy, "shall we perhaps try another book?"
"By all means," replied Lizzy, "and this time, you can choose which one. Just be careful, dear!"
Darcy browsed through a number of titles before finding one that sounded good. "Look! Here! Wuthering Heights. That doesn't sound dangerous at all."
"Sounds good to me," said Lizzy, and they jumped together into the book, to find themselves on a windy hilltop, not far from a house. Lizzy shivered.
"Cold?" asked Darcy, putting his coat around her tenderly.
"Not so much," she replied. "It's just the feeling of this place. It feels so hostile."
Darcy scoured the countryside. "I don't see anything so bad," he said. "A tree over there seems to have been struck by lightning but it looks basically just like the Yorkshire moors in our time. Bare and practically uninhabited."
They decided once more to make for the nearest house. They were about to go through the gate when a loud noise came from within. It sounded like someone was throwing things, and there was swearing.
"Don't listen!" Darcy said, hastily covering Elizabeth's ears. "Let's get out of here, it doesn't sound safe."
"Pardon?" yelled Lizzy.
"I said it doesn't sound safe."
"No, sorry, I can't hear you. It looks like a cave?"
Darcy gave up and pulled her away. "We don't know what kind of people live here, but from the sound of it, they're not our sort. Look at the garden, in complete disrepair. I say we should go to the nearest town, there may be some nicer folk there."
They could see a church spire in the distance so they hoofed it across the moor in that direction. Along the way they saw a person heading in the same direction. He looked as if he were a local, so Darcy hailed him.
"Ahoy there sir. Could you tell us how far we are from the nearest village?"
"Gimmerton is the town you see before you, 'tis not even a mile off," replied the man.
"Do you come from the house there, my good man?" asked Darcy.
"Aye," scowled the man, "and it's best you'd be staying away from there. Mr. Heathcliff, he don't like visitors. Nowt personal, but he's not in the best of tempers this day, or ever if it comes down to it."
"What is Gimmerton like?" ventured Lizzy.
The man mumbled something and the Darcys, rather put out, decided not to talk to him again. Besides, they had already arrived in the small village. It was not the sort of town they were used to, being from further south, but Darcy had visited Yorkshire quite often as a boy and was familiar with the dialect.
"Most Yorkshire folk are a good sort, the honest farmer type. Not the sort of manners you could take into London society, but pleasant enough all the same. That chap was against type, I'm sure you'll find the others likable enough," Darcy said to his wife.
They were passing the churchyard when they were startled by the sexton, who was just leaving the little graveyard.
"My goodness," said Lizzy, "for a minute there I thought I'd seen a ghost!"
The man spat. "No indeed, but I'd not be surprised by owt in this village. Why, just today I had a lunatic asking me to dig up a poor young lady's grave. And she's been dead these ten years or so! I did it, for I feared of my life, but such goings on since old Mr. Earnshaw brought that Heathcliff here! 'Tis my belief he is the devil himself!"
"I don't like the sound of these people very much," whispered Elizabeth to her husband. "Shall we not go back to a safer book? The devil indeed!"
Darcy was a little more intrigued, but once he had seen the state of the local inn, agreed at once to leave. However, by this time it was getting very late. As they made their way over the moor, they got lost in the darkness. It was cold, and windy, and Elizabeth stumbled and nearly twisted her ankle. Eventually they saw lights twinkling in the distance.
"Shall we not try and see if they will give us shelter and a bite to eat?" said Lizzy. "I'm tired, you're tireder, and it can't possibly be the house we saw today. We have walked much farther than that in completely the wrong direction."
But alas! of course, it turned out to be the house they had already seen, home to the mysterious Heathcliff.
"Let us turn back," said Lizzy, "before anyone sees us." Darcy however was exhausted and lagged behind a little, long enough for the dogs to see him and start barking, rousing the whole house. The man they had talked to that afternoon came out to see what was the problem.
"Not you again," he grumbled. "Quick, away with ye before the master sees ye."
"Who's that at the door, Joseph?" thundered a voice from the stairs.
Joseph glared at Lizzy before replying.
"Some strangers, Mr. Heathcliff."
Mr. Heathcliff himself came into view at this moment. He was tall and dark and rather foreboding (what else?). He rather ungraciously invited the Darcy's inside, and they soon found themselves trying to sleep on some blankets in front of the fire. Rather uncomfortable, but as Joseph said, "It will do your souls good".
"What a dreadful book!" exclaimed Darcy, echoing the sentiments of a generation of Lit. students.
"I heard that," came the deep voice of Heathcliff from the door. "Do try and be quiet, there are others in this house besides yourselves. I came to offer you some hot milk, but you obviously don't want anything from me. Goodbye."
Lizzy felt rather sorry for the poor man. "Don't go!" she said. "I am sorry for our behaviour. Will you not tell us your troubles?" Darcy looked like he wanted to protest but she nudged him with her elbow.
Heathcliff sat down on a wooden chair nearby and told them both the tale of his lost love Catherine, and his revenge against her family. When he was finished, both Lizzy and Darcy were silent, realising how lucky they were to have each other.
"Well," said Lizzy finally, "I think that you have been rather silly. You've made yourself and a lot of other people very miserable, and that's not what Cathy would have wanted. Why don't you leave Yorkshire and start again? London offers many distractions and while I am not suggesting you forget Cathy, you can move on and live your life again."
Heathcliff sobbed. "You're right," he said. "I've been selfish. I can keep the memory of Catherine alive by living well, not keeping myself apart from society up here. I still want to be buried here, but," putting away his handkerchief, "by golly, I'm not that old yet!"
"Good idea, old chap," said Darcy, coming closer as he observed Heathcliff not to be angry.
None of the three got any sleep that night. The tender wit and intelligence of Elizabeth had touched Heathcliff somewhere inside. Perhaps her dark hair reminded him of Cathy. In any case, by the time the rooster crowed the next morning, heralding the first day of Heathcliff's new life, he was firmly decided. Of course, the change was not yet complete, but he had lost some bitterness of soul. Darcy and Lizzy said goodbye and left the book confident that their new acquaintance had changed his life for the better.
"Do you know what this power of ours means?" asked Elizabeth to her husband as they stood outside the book.
"That we'll wreck all of Western Literature as it is known?" asked Darcy facetiously.
"I hadn't thought of that," frowned Lizzy, thinking. "No, it means we can make a whole lot of people's lives much happier. As fictional characters, it is our duty to help our kind!"
"You could well be right," Darcy concurred. "And I must say, when I read a book it is much nicer when it ends happily."
"I do so agree. I'm glad you see it my way."
"And what was it you said that time? I'm sure we never read the same, nor with the same feelings..."
Elizabeth jabbed Darcy in the ribs. "I thought we agreed you weren't going to bring up how dreadful I was back then."
"Ah, but you were not so bad as I! When I remember my foolish pride, my arrogance..."
"But you had cause for your foolishness, whereas I, I had no excuse!"
This mutual appreciation and self-deprecating nostalgia went on for some time.
Eventually, the chatter- and the affectionate hugs that followed- ceased, and the Darcys had to decide what to do next.
"Another book, of course," said Darcy. "You can choose."
"No, I insist, you choose."
"No, your judgment is much better than mine."
Lizzy gave a wicked grin. "Well, since you say so..."
Darcy groaned. "How long have you been waiting for me to say that?"
"A while. Come on, let's go."
"Of course," she said a little while later, "of course, we have no idea what sort of book we're getting in to. You can't judge a book by its cover."
"Unless of course we already know the book..."
Lizzy wrinkled her nose. "I don't think this persons tastes run to Fielding or Richardson."
"Nothing wrong with that. I checked the publication date on our book, we must be in the 1990s at least."
Lizzy was astonished. "I wonder how much things have changed out there."
"Who knows? From these books, it's hard to tell. How much different could it be?"
"I can't imagine."
Husband and wife were silent for a while as they wandered through the books, thinking of their own history and their own time, perhaps a little wistfully.
"Well, I think I have discovered a way to find out," said Lizzy a short time later. "A Brief History of Time. Should be a quick way of seeing what has happened in the last two hundred years, or whatever it is that we have missed."
"Good thinking, Elizabeth."
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy stood at the edge of the book, preparing to jump into a condensed summary of two hundred years ...