Perilous Siege

by C. P. Odom

  Another pressing topic was whether Mr. Bingley would be in attendance; he had declined an invitation to dine at Longbourn because he was required in town. Their fears on that point had been assuaged, however, by Lady Lucas’s informing them Mr. Bingley was gone in order to bring back a large party for the ball.

  Elizabeth, however, was rather skeptical of the reliability of the information. Even if Lady Lucas was correct, the size of his “large party” was another complete unknown. But ignorance of the truth had not kept speculations among the Bennet and Lucas sisters from estimates as high as twelve ladies and seven gentlemen.

  “It would be better if it was the reverse,” grumbled Lydia, a sentiment to which her older sister Kitty quickly agreed.

  Elizabeth urged caution. “Lady Lucas said only a large party. These latest speculations hardly qualify as guesses. Mrs. Goulding’s husband did not call on Mr. Bingley, so how reliable is her information?”

  “Mrs. Long told my mother that Mr. Bingley is bringing a party of six—his five sisters and a cousin,” Jane said. “And she was introduced to Mr. Bingley when he visited Mr. Long, so she, at least, might have more trustworthy information.”

  “Only one gentleman?” wailed Kitty. “Surely, that must be wrong!”

  To this comment, Mary only sniffed in derision since she was more interested in her books than in eligible young gentlemen. She was irritated by her younger sisters talking of little else than the handsome newcomer to their neighborhood and his anticipated attendance at the assembly.

  Elizabeth tried to calm her younger sisters. “As I said before, we will learn soon. You are wasting your time planning dances with Mr. Bingley and his friends, Lydia. And you also, Kitty. Restrain your wild gossiping. It is most unseemly.”

  Both girls reluctantly desisted. They were more than a little afraid of Elizabeth because she so often spoke with the same firmness as their father. In Elizabeth’s opinion, it was most unfortunate that he seldom spoke in that manner since it might have alleviated the lack of decorum of his two youngest daughters.

  Those daughters had no such fear of their mother, however, for they managed her with an experience gained and perfected during their short lifetimes. Thus, when she joined her daughters in the parlor, they felt emboldened to continue their speculations, enjoying the discomfiture of their sister who, out of filial duty, usually declined to directly confront her mother.

  Chapter 12

  The consequences of things are not always proportionate to the apparent magnitude of those events that have produced them. Thus the American Revolution, from which little was expected, produced much; but the French Revolution, from which much was expected, produced little.

  — Charles Caleb Colton, English cleric, writer and

  collector, well known for his eccentricities

  Monday, October 21, 1811

  Assembly Hall

  Meryton, Hertfordshire

  Elizabeth Bennet stood with her four sisters, engaged in quiet conversation with her best friend, Charlotte Lucas, when Lydia said excitedly, “Look, there is Mr. Bingley!”

  Elizabeth turned to see a party had indeed entered the hall. “It appears Mr. Bingley’s group is not as large as rumored,” she said in wry amusement. “I can only see a party of six—Mr. Bingley with two young ladies and three gentlemen.”

  “My mother said Mr. Bingley had gone to London to bring back a large party,” Charlotte said. “She was not aware of its size. As usual, rumor has little to do with reality.”

  Charlotte stood close beside Elizabeth, her dearest friend despite the disparity in their ages. Charlotte was twenty-seven compared to Elizabeth’s nineteen years, and they both shared the same amusement at nonsense and inconsistencies.

  “I did not get a very good look at Mr. Bingley when he visited,” Jane offered in her soft voice. “But he looks very gentlemanly. And handsome as well.”

  “And rich!” Kitty said in a loud voice. “Imagine! He has five thousand a year! Come, Lydia! Let us find out more.”

  Elizabeth had just opened her mouth to tell them to rejoin their mother when both of her youngest sisters disappeared into the crowd, moving in the direction of Bingley’s party.

  “Those two!” she said softly to Charlotte, but it spoke a lifetime’s irritation at the girls’ continued propensity for impropriety.

  Neither of them should even be here tonight! Elizabeth thought, in renewed exasperation at her mother’s lack of judgment in allowing them out into society. They are too young and act even younger than their age.

  And, though this thought pained her, she also had to condemn her father’s fondness for the tranquility of his study and the consequent neglect of his paternal duties.

  “The two ladies must be Mr. Bingley’s sisters,” Charlotte Lucas said calmly, nudging Elizabeth, whose irritation still smoldered. “My father visited Mr. Bingley this morning, after he returned from town. I believe the somewhat portly gentleman must be Mr. Hurst, the husband of Mr. Bingley’s elder sister. My father described him as being a man of substance, from which I inferred he carried an extra bit of weight. He also mentioned the younger sister is still unmarried.”

  “Both of Mr. Bingley’s sisters are certainly very fashionable,” Jane said, with her usual good-natured inclination to see everyone in the best possible light.

  Elizabeth said nothing, but her own thoughts were not quite as charitable. She thought the manner in which the two ladies looked about them implied condescension rather than modesty, but she restrained the temptation to say as much.

  “Who are the other two men, I wonder?” she said instead though somewhat rhetorically.

  “My father mentioned Mr. Bingley was bringing a close friend, a Mr. Darcy,” Charlotte said. “I suppose he is one of the two men though I have no idea which one he might be.”

  “We know neither of them is Mr. Hurst at least. Both of them are tall and not at all portly.”

  “The taller gentleman is much darker and looks almost…well, like a pirate, what with his size and his mustache. In any event, I suspect he is not Mr. Darcy.”

  “No, he is not!” Lydia said, having mysteriously reappeared. “His name is McDunn. How odd he looks with that short hair! If his hair was not so dark, one might think he was bald! And he is certainly not handsome! Not like Mr. Darcy!”

  “That is quite enough, Lydia,” Elizabeth said sternly. “And speak more softly. Sir William seems to be leading Mr. Bingley and his party about the room. Come, we should join my mother.”

  As the sisters and Charlotte walked over to Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth had to give Lydia credit for being at least partially right. Even if the taller of the two gentlemen was not particularly handsome, the same could not be said of Mr. Darcy.

  ***

  McDunn looked about the room with interest as Sir William Lucas led Bingley and the others around, introducing them to the principal people in attendance. Bingley had especially asked for this civility, and McDunn watched the introductions closely. He was still learning the intricacies of how one was introduced, but he knew it depended on the relative social standing of each party. Though he found it confusing, it seemed almost instinctively recognized by everyone in this class-conscious society.

  But McDunn could easily figure out who was at the bottom of the social echelon—himself! He was used to it and found it more amusing than irksome. He was too thoroughly an American and too much a democrat to be offended though he was learning to navigate the different strata of English society.

  He made no attempt to remember the names of those he met, contenting himself with a small bow. There was only one group in whom he had any particular interest. He thought he had already spotted them a short distance away in the direction Sir William seemed to be taking his charges.

  The group of ladies watched their approach though they tried, with varying degrees
of success, to disguise their interest. Six of the ladies were quite young, and they stood about a handsome, middle-aged woman who still showed signs of her younger beauty. Her eyes, however, revealed more of cleverness than either intelligence or common sense.

  Mrs. Bennet—or I’ll be a monkey’s uncle, thought McDunn, easily maintaining the poker face that had helped him augment his military pay over the years. And I’m certain which girls are Lydia and Kitty. I see what Austen meant when she portrayed them as juveniles, too young to be allowed out and about on their own.

  This evening was crucial in Austen’s story. Much of the angst had its origin in Darcy snubbing Elizabeth as well as everyone else in the room, and McDunn anticipated an interesting time.

  But only as an observer, he reminded himself. Remember, everything’s supposed to turn out okay in the end. Assuming Darcy and Elizabeth really do strike up a lasting love, who’s to say their attraction wasn’t enhanced by the hard times they endured?

  His suspicions were soon confirmed as Sir William stopped in front of the woman McDunn had pegged as Mrs. Bennet and began the introductions, starting with Darcy.

  Actually, McDunn was rather surprised at Darcy’s still being with Bingley’s party since he seemed to remember him avoiding this introduction in the text.

  I think I like Darcy more than I’ve ever liked another man, McDunn thought, but he’s certainly not perfect, especially to my egalitarian American sensibilities. So I’m surprised. I’d have expected him to avoid people who possessed, as the author phrased it, “little beauty and no fashion.”

  He had to wonder whether his mere presence had affected Darcy’s reaction, perhaps because his friend preferred not to exhibit his social imperfections in front of him. That was an uncomfortable thought! But there was no way to know, and there was equally nothing to be done about it.

  The introduction of Mr. Bingley and his relatives followed along with the introduction of each of the younger ladies.

  McDunn was surprised by the beauty of the elder sisters. He’d anticipated they would be pretty since they had been so described by Austen. But these young ladies, without the aid of any makeup he could discern, were simply drop-dead gorgeous. It was especially true of the eldest, who was more of a classic beauty than her sister, but the difference was slight enough to be debatable.

  Then it was his turn as Sir William waved him forward. “Mrs. Bennet, ladies, may I present Major McDunn?”

  McDunn gave a bow to Mrs. Bennet first and then to the younger girls who responded with graceful curtsies.

  They do that so well! he thought admiringly. They perform their curtsies with such grace! Do they practice? It cannot be easy to make a curtsey look effortless, but every one of them brings it off charmingly.

  After meeting Mrs. Bennet, McDunn was surprised to find himself feeling a degree of sympathy for her. She seemed exactly as described in the novel—a mother dedicated to finding suitable husbands for her girls, and he could no longer be totally disdainful of her. In his world, he had thought her a foolish and uninformed woman of illiberal views. After living in this new world for more than two years, he realized her quandary. With her husband’s estate entailed away to a cousin, there was absolutely no safety net for her family, even if they were of the gentry. If none of the Bennet sisters married well, they would have only a miniscule income on which to live after the death of their father. McDunn was sure Mrs. Bennet would turn out just as foolish as he had heretofore assumed, but he now felt a modicum of sympathy for her.

  ***

  When Elizabeth Bennet rose from making her curtsey to Darcy and looked into his dark eyes, the strangest, most extraordinary, and unique quiver shot through her. It was something between a thrill and a shudder, but she had no word for it as it seemed to blossom in her chest before traveling down her spine.

  The mere fact that this tall man might inspire any type of reaction was shocking enough. She had instantly perceived his reserve as he was conducted around the room, and such haughty aloofness was not at all to her taste. She admired openness and amiability far more.

  Then why this mysterious reaction? she wondered in frantic confusion. In Darcy’s eyes, she could see no similar response—nothing at all. But she had never felt so unsettled and confused in her life.

  In the midst of her befuddlement, which she hoped to conceal as she had her innermost thoughts and feelings, she could not believe she heard the man asking whether he might have the honor of the next two dances!

  Is the whole world coming unhinged? she thought wildly, trying to bring her feelings under control as he led her to the dance floor.

  She did not even remember accepting his request!

  ***

  McDunn hadn’t been surprised when Bingley requested a set from Charlotte Lucas and the next two after that from Jane Bennet. He was, however, stunned to hear Darcy make a similar request of Elizabeth Bennet!

  This wasn’t supposed to happen! Darcy was supposed to snub all the young ladies in attendance and dance only with either Caroline Bingley or Mrs. Hurst before committing the final insult by dismissing Elizabeth Bennet as “not handsome enough” to tempt him!

  Can this be due to my presence here? McDunn’s logical turn of mind quickly answered his own question. It’s unlikely to make any difference at all. Darcy’s entirely a man of his society with much to convince him of his superiority. He’ll probably manage to offend everyone soon, including Elizabeth Bennet, just as Austen described.

  “And how do you find our assembly, Major McDunn?” Mrs. Bennet said, and McDunn could hear the cunning in her voice as she continued. “Are there not an abundance of available dance partners?”

  “You are indeed correct, madam,” McDunn said, absolutely deadpan, “which would be most fortunate if I danced. But, you see, I do not dance. I never learned.”

  “But every gentleman can dance!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, looking as scandalized as though she had just seen a cockroach scamper across the dinner table.

  “Ah, there’s the trouble, Mrs. Bennet,” he said, taking a certain delightful pleasure in teasing her. “You see, I’m an American, not a gentleman.”

  “But…you are a major!” Lydia said.

  “A major of American Marines, Miss Lydia.”

  “Then you are not a real major at all!” Mrs. Bennet said, and McDunn felt himself go cold inside. The woman might be a fool, but there were limits to his forbearance.

  “I may no longer be a serving officer, madam,” he said icily, “but I’ve waded through enough blood to have earned my rank the hard way. However, it appears you find my presence unpleasant, so I beg your leave to withdraw.”

  He gave her a barely perceptible bow and strode away, still fuming but determined to find a suitable vantage point from which to observe the rest of the evening’s activities.

  I probably shouldn’t have said what I did, but the woman is really an idiot. How could she insult me as she did? I know Austen described her as vulgar, and I was ready to cut her some slack, but Jiminy Christmas!

  ***

  As McDunn watched Darcy and Elizabeth, his temper gradually cooled, and he began to wonder what had possessed his friend to ask her to dance. McDunn had been fully prepared to see Darcy act in the disdainful manner he had expected, but he had acted wildly differently. What did it mean? He knew he should not expect these people to behave as though they were actors, giving performances from a script written by a long-dead writer. But it was clear that he’d subconsciously expected just that.

  He remembered reading that Austen had written a significantly longer version of her novel before editing it down to its published length, but it was difficult to believe she had ever written a version in which Darcy asked Elizabeth to dance at the assembly. Having Darcy snub Elizabeth was too central to her theme of the problems caused by pride and mistaken assumptions.


  Whatever the reason for this deviation, he found it more than interesting, and it renewed his curiosity about why he had been sent to this mystifying alternate world by the Siege. Certainly, despite the similarities to what Austen wrote, events might not transpire in the same manner.

  From what McDunn could observe, Darcy’s dance with Elizabeth Bennet seemed to go well. They certainly seemed to part civilly, after which Darcy danced with Caroline Bingley and her sister as he had expected.

  It was during those dances that McDunn started to see a change in Darcy’s temperament. For much of the ball, McDunn had heard whispers about Darcy’s splendid fortune. While there was only one reference to “ten thousand a year,” the whispers were bandied about with such a lack of caution that Darcy could not help but hear them. McDunn recognized as much when Darcy’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned while he danced with Mrs. Hurst.

  Uh-oh, McDunn thought. Though he seldom loses it, Darcy has a fiery temper. He’s a proud man, especially of his family, and he’s occasionally mentioned how crowds make him uncomfortable on the best of occasions. And he absolutely hates being placed under a social microscope by those he considers below his station. Obsession with social standing has been out of favor in America since the Revolutionary War, but that’s the way it is in England at this time.

  After he finished his dance with Bingley’s sister, Darcy was stone-faced as he stalked over to join McDunn. The major made no attempt at conversation and simply stood silently beside him. Darcy looked straight ahead while McDunn watched other people, something he always enjoyed, but Darcy’s stern, erect posture discouraged any attempt at social interaction.