What if He Were to Pick Me

by Alyx Silver

  Taking advantage of Lizzy's moment of inattention, Kitty scurried to her room and opened the door.

  Lizzy turned just in time to see – she would later, unfortunately be sure she HAD seen – Mr. Crawford in a rather embarrassing position, tied to the bed's four posts.

  Then the door was slammed and she saw no more.

  "Father," she said. "Kitty had a whip."

  Mr. Bennet stared at his second daughter. "Did she tell you why?"

  "She said they had unruly pillows."

  Mr. Bennet nodded. "Yes. Yes. I understand that."

  "But, father, I saw–"

  Mr. Bennet grinned and shook his head. "Leave, it, Lizzy. I believe it will turn out very well."

  From behind the Crawford's closed – and presumably locked – door, he could be heard to say, "Oh, please...." in a begging tone.

  The days swam by in a bewilderment of confusion. After Mrs. Crawford's triumphant return all of Meryton waited the return of Miss Lydia in whatever married state she might have managed.

  But a week slid by quietly and the only thing that arrived was – via special messenger – a collection of jewels for Miss Jane. As a mark of Mr. Bingley's affection.

  Meanwhile, Elizabeth hadn't slept in nearly a week. Between the nightly pleadings from Kitty's room next door – often alternating with the most unearthly groaning and moaning, which led Elizabeth to believe that Mr. Crawford must suffer from some yet unacknowledged illness – and her memories of Mr. Darcy's muscular, pleasant anatomy, she could hardly close her eyes.

  And then there was the excitement of Charlotte's engagement and her impending marriage. And Lizzy's quite certain belief that women shouldn't marry toads.

  While Lizzy helped Charlotte finish her dress and arrange flowers and prepare for the big ceremony she noticed that Charlotte was looking more and more panicked every minute. Her eye had started twitching and she often acted distracted while muttering "Flies, flies, he'll want to dine on flies. I don’t even know how to prepare flies. Does anyone have a recipe for a good fly fricassee? "

  However, the day drew on, inexorably.

  And soon, very soon, Elizabeth found herself in church, standing beside Charlotte, who looked quite ravishing in her full–covering veil and dress.

  And she had to admit that, at least from behind, Mr. Collins didn't look all that bad. Why, he was almost as tall as Mr. Darcy and the blue suit, bought for the wedding looked uncommonly like Mr. Darcy's own.

  Caroline Bingley was simply not going to allow Mr. Darcy to marry Lydia.

  For days she did not sleep, and when she slept she had nightmares that Mr. Darcy was introducing Lydia to society and Lydia wore a most fetching orange dress that would have looked much better on Caroline.

  Tortured by lack of sleep, half hallucinating, wishing Charles were near to tell her what Darcy was planning to do, Caroline found herself in a carriage, headed for Meryton. And erupting into the church just as the minister said, "If anyone can show just cause why this man and this woman should not be united–"

  "I can," Caroline said. "I can. He promised me marriage and an orange dress. He must follow through. He must..."

  The parson dropped his bible in horror. The guests turned to her suppressed gasps, exclamations, shudders. Sir William Lucas, in the front row stood up and said, "This is outrageous."

  "Indeed, not," Caroline said. She had found her footing and was sure that she would carry it all her way. "Indeed not. The groom has led me to believe he intended to marry me and only me, and I had my dress ordered and then he– "

  "What you say is very grave," the parson said. "And I can't imagine why an otherwise sane woman would say it if not true." He turned to the groom who remained with his back turned. "Sir, I must demand you stop this marriage and marry the aggrieved lady at once."

  "But..." the groom said, then turned around and displayed the full oleaginous features of Mr. Collins. "I must say, I never knew I'd led the worthy Miss Bingley on. But of course, my charms are such, and with my position in life, indeed, I'm sure many young women pine for me. I must say, my dear Charlotte, you must allow me to break our promise, as Miss Bingley had the earlier claim."

  "I don't..." Caroline said. She felt her voice fail her. "I don't understand..."

  At that moment the door flung open and, on the threshold, stood Mr. Darcy, Charles, Colonel Fitzwilliam and a very well dressed Lydia.

  Caroline looked from Mr. Collins who was, casually, flicking his tongue about and catching the occasional fly. Then she looked at the new arrivals.

  Merciful blackness closed upon her, but not before she caught sight of Charlotte ripping off her veil, tossing her flowers and running through the church, laughing madly and twirling pirouettes.

  Caroline took the screams of, "I'm free, I'm free, ah ah, free," with her into unconsciousness.

  Well, there was nothing for it," Bingley said. "But she had to marry him. What? After her display in church? She was bound to be the talk of the ton if she did not." He made a face. "I cannot promise that she will be happy, but Caroline should make a very interesting parson's wife."

  "And a source of entertainment to Lady Catherine De Bourgh," Mr. Bennet said.

  "Indeed," Mr. Darcy said. It was three weeks after their return to Meryton and he was almost at the point of asking the delightful Miss Elizabeth to marry him. Almost. If only she could be sure she felt about him as he did about her. "I must say – my aunt hasn't been the same since my cousin Anne De Bourgh used your carriage service to Gretna Green to elope with the stable boy."

  "And a very happy couple they made," Mr. Bennet said. "They tipped the coachman most handily and all." He cleared his throat. "Indeed, my coach service is doing so well that I..." He cleared his throat again. "That is... My daughters will have very handsome dowries."

  "I'd take Jane in her shift," Mr. Bingley said. Then blushed. "That is, I'd much rather she be properly attired in public and all, and I haven't been imagining her in her shift or... ahem... out of it at all, but you must understand–"

  "Stow it, Bingley," Mr. Bennet said. "You're marrying Jane tomorrow and you can see fit to imagine her in any way you wish."

  Bingley blushed again and sighed. "She is an angel."

  From another part of the house came the sound of loud shrieks of laughter and the echoes of Mrs. Bennet admonishing her daughters – doubtless on the details of tomorrow's fete.

  Close at hand, the clock on the wall of the study ticked loudly.

  "Just imagine that," Mr. Bennet said. "Of all my daughters Lizzy would be the only one unmarried. And she with more wit than all the rest." He cleared his throat. "Now, if some gentleman, with, say, ten thousand a year, should offer for her, I should surely say yes."

  From upstairs came the sound of a whip flying through the air, then a brief, strangled male scream, followed by moans and the sound of a bed hitting the wall.

  "You must pardon me," Mr. Bennet said, staring at the ceiling. "My daughter Kitty and her husband have a room directly above and they are afflicted with unruly pillows."

  Mr. Darcy nodded, absently. Cracks appeared on the ceiling. Plaster rained down.

  Mr. Bennet swept the plaster dust off his desk. "If a gentleman with ten thousand–"

  "Yes, yes," Mr. Darcy erupted, his temper getting the best of him. "I understand, sir. But what guarantee have I that she will accept me?"

  Mr. Bennet looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Guarantee? Why none, sir. You will have to take your risks with the rest of us. Ask her already."

  Mr. Darcy stood for a moment, staring at the man, thinking this was the most bluntly anyone had ever spoken to him.

  And then he took in a deep breath and saw the pure genius of the man who could think up a line of carriages to Gretna Green and think that asking Lizzy was all a matter of ... asking Lizzy.

  He grabbed his walking stick and hat and determined to pull Miss Elizabeth from the press of her mother and sisters and take her for a walk. Now.

&n
bsp; An Impatient Woman

  But his treacherous tongue would not speak. They walked in silence amid the lovely fields and he could not find words to speak.

  "Mr. Darcy," Lizzy said, at last. "I am a selfish being and for the sake of relieving my feelings I don't care what discomfort I cause others. You must tell me what happened in the matter of Lydia. Did you extricate her from that villain, Wickham?"

  "Indeed no," Mr. Darcy said. "It turns out that … well. As we were negotiating for a wedding with the villain, some military men happened upon them and understood the situation. Among them was my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was immediately smitten by Lydia’s... charms. He fought Wickham and killed him in a duel and married your sister the same day, to save her reputation. He thought the little matter of having lived with Wickham before didn’t matter, since Wickham was dead. He said worse things happen in war, and even in the Bible."

  "But you did go to London intent on saving her," Lizzy asked.

  "Indeed, it was only my duty."

  "I... I would be willing to marry a man who performed such a service for my family."

  "Yes," Darcy said, feeling his heart sink. "Unfortunately, you see, she was already married, so I didn't, indeed–"

  "Surely, Mr. Darcy, the intention is the same as the act and my gratitude demands that I sacrifice myself on the altar of holy matrimony to you."

  Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. Couldn't she hear him? And besides, he didn't want her gratitude. He wanted her love. "I must say that this is totally unnecessary since–"

  Lizzy stooped and grabbed a thick stick. "Mr. Darcy, I am an impatient woman, and for the sake of relieving my feelings, I will clobber you over the head this minute, unless you say you will marry me."

  Darcy was speechless for a moment, but – as she started to raise her arm – he screamed, "Stop, stop. I will marry you. Indeed, it's what I wish and I've never desired anything else so much. I've loved you ever since you searched my pockets for your sister."

  Lizzy dropped the stick and fell into his arms. "I've loved you since that very night, too," she said, as a vision of Mr. Darcy's informal attire formed in her mind.

  Mr. Darcy smiled. "It just so happens, that, against the event you should take me out in the middle of the fields and demand that I marry you, as one does, I have purchased a special license. We can be married at the same time as Bingles and Jane, if you wish."

  She wished.

  Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day Mrs. Bennet rid herself of her two eldest, more worthy and last single daughters.

  Contemplating their departing carriage, and while Mrs. Hurst, Mrs. Crawford and Mrs. Fitzwilliam took their leave also, to go to their various abodes, Mrs. Bennet turned to Mr. Bennet, "Five daughters married," she said. "The Good Lord has been very, very good to us."

  "So it would seem," Mr. Bennet said, patting a pocket full of the proceeds of his carriage scheme. "So it would seem."

  And they lived insanely ever after...

  Except Charlotte Lucas, who, dressed as a man, took to the sea and ended up as a pirate captain. It is said she eventually married a foreign prince she captured and reigned in luxury over an exotic kingdom, but all we know what rumors are.

  All we can tell you for sure is that every year, a messenger clad in silks and jewels came to an humble and glaringly orange parsonage in Hunsford and presented to Mr. and Mrs. Collins an exquisite fricassee in a silver chaffing dish.

  It was probably merely a coincidence and an accident that Mrs. Collins once found – still identifiable – a fly’s wing in the contents.