An Alternate Perspective

by Wynne Mabry

  She picked up a candle and looked into every corner of the library, even though there was no logical place where he could be concealed. She examined all the windows in consideration of the remote possibility that he had been flung through one of them and into the garden. None of the windows were broken though. If he had been in the library, he must have left through the doorway. But where was he?

  Ordinarily, Elizabeth would not have expected Mr. Hurst’s wife to be overly bothered by his disappearance, but she had spoken of him with such affection this evening. Although there had never been any friendship between them, Elizabeth was now very concerned that Mrs. Hurst would worry if her husband did not soon appear.

  Even stranger, she felt a great desire to spare this nice Mrs. Hurst any anxiety. But what was to be done? She did not have any useful information to contribute. Just vague ideas and some strange observations that nobody would believe.

  Out of Place

  In leaving Mr. Hurst, Elizabeth felt some misgiving since he was the only person whom she really knew on this plane. On the other hand, she was about to dine with people who were not exactly strangers. After what Mr. Hurst had said, she did not expect that they would be very different from her friends.

  She rushed into the dining room as the first course was already being served, apologizing profusely for having been late. Some differences immediately became evident. Both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst gave her reproachful looks, and Mr. Hurst grumbled about the interruption as he stood up to acknowledge her arrival. Worst of all was Mr. Darcy’s severe expression.

  She hastily threw herself into the seat beside Mr. Hurst. Miss Bingley was sitting beside Mr. Darcy this evening, which was not exactly surprising. She was always wanting to sit or stand next to him if she could. But Elizabeth was surprised that he only gave her the slightest acknowledgement and then immediately resumed talking to the two sisters. It was disheartening to be ignored by him, and she had to remind herself that this was not her own Mr. Darcy. Evidently in this reality, he was not as pleasant. It also seemed highly unlikely that he and the other Elizabeth were engaged.

  That thought reminded her of the ring that she was wearing. It was a family ring, which this Mr. Darcy would recognize if his family had the same possession. Under cover of the table, she slipped it off and concealed it in her lap.

  Mr. Hurst also ignored her. Having flopped back into his chair, he picked up his fork and began to consume food at a rapid rate. This was washed down with the entire contents of his glass. Elizabeth tried not to stare as he signalled for a servant to refill it and then shovelled in another large mouthful. Her Mr. Hurst was equally fond of a ragout, but he did not eat it with such urgency. The difference was rather sickening and very concerning. If this man was inventing something, and that was certainly cast into grave doubt, she did not think he could have made much progress. It seemed unlikely that he would be torn away from his food for any sufficient length of time.

  It was a relief to hear Mr. Bingley speak as he usually did. At least it was for a moment.

  “How is Miss Bennet?” he asked in a warm voice which sounded exactly right.

  Then she realized that he had used the formal name. Her Mr. Bingley would have said Jane. It appeared that they were also not engaged in this reality. Elizabeth found this idea disappointing even though it was not exactly her sister whose happiness might be in question.

  She and Mr. Bingley talked some more, leaving her with the impression that he was not different in any way. Here was the same affability. The same cheerfulness and generosity of spirit. The same thoughtfulness for others. She liked this man just as much as she liked her version of him.

  His companions continued to disappoint though. Miss Bingley was not different, but then Elizabeth had never liked her in the first place. Of all possible changes, one in Miss Bingley’s character would have been very welcome. She was trying to gain Mr. Darcy’s attention as usual, but tonight, she seemed to be succeeding. It was hard not to feel put out by this.

  Then there was Mrs. Hurst. She was very much like her sister, which was so disappointing to see. This lady was clearly not the other Elizabeth’s friend. It seemed doubtful that she was truly Jane’s friend either. Her enquiries about the invalid’s health had a false note to them.

  Elizabeth wondered if the two ladies had used their influence to keep Jane and Bingley apart. She knew that her own Miss Bingley looked down upon her family, and it looked as though both sisters felt the same in this reality. If the two of them were in agreement that Jane was not good enough for their brother, who knew what sort of damage they might do, or had already done.

  Of course, none of this really had anything to do with Elizabeth, but it was hard not to feel an interest in the affairs of these alternate versions of people she knew. It especially bothered her that this Mr. Darcy did not seem to be an especially happy person. His sullenness did not become him, and she felt that a great deal of potential was being wasted here.

  What made it worse was that she saw hints here and there of the man she knew. This one had many similar opinions. He seemed to have the same pride as well, but to a much greater degree.

  She wondered what her alternate self thought of him. It could not be assumed that she had any feeling for him. Not unless she liked this sort of man. That led to another question. Was that other Elizabeth much like her, or were they as different as the two Mr. Hursts? What if she was unpleasant?

  That was a dreadful idea, but what made it worse was that she was currently in Elizabeth’s reality. Probably having dinner with her friends right now. Concern about what they might be suffering at that moment made her uneasy for the remainder of the meal. At its conclusion, she excused herself to go back to the invalid, hoping that she would not find an unpleasant person in the place of her dear sister.

  As she stood up, the precious ring was carefully clutched in one hand, but in the hall, she slipped it back on her finger. She intended to hide it upon her person, but right now it was a comfort to have this reminder of her fiancé.

  Being in less of a hurry, she now noticed that there were Chinese vases on the hall table instead of the brass which was there in her reality, and a landscape was hung in the place of a maritime painting. There was something interesting about these little differences. One of the paintings in the dining room had been different as well, and she had thought that the curtains were not the same, but the plate and the dishes had been identical, and she had recognized all the servants.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped and looked toward the library door. If only she had not gone there to put away that book before dinner, she would not be in this predicament. But then she chided herself for selfish thoughts. Mr. Hurst would still have been whisked away by the portal. If he had to build another machine, it was better for him that there was somebody here to make certain that he ate and took care of himself.

  He was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. “Unfortunately, I have bad news,” he said. “I could not find a machine like mine or any sign that one is being built.”

  “I do not think you will find one,” she said. “I was already resigned to it. This place is too different. Everybody except Mr. Bingley is quite dreadful. I advise you not to make any observation of them if you can help it. You will not like to see this version of your wife.”

  “Everybody is dreadful? Mr. Darcy too?”

  “Oh yes. I am certain that he dislikes me.”

  “Never mind, my dear,” he said. “He is not your Darcy, and you will soon be back with the right one.”

  “I do not think so. First you must build a new machine, which will have to be done in great secrecy. Do not count on any assistance from these people, especially the other you. Not that I think he could be of any help. I am sorry to say that he is a deplorable man, and I strongly question his intelligence.”

  “I have been wondering about him actually. After looking outside, I went back to the library and realized that none of my books are there. I
could not find any notes either. I have just been along to look in his bedroom, and there was nothing there which gave me much hope.”

  “That does not surprise me. I do not think this Mr. Hurst owns any books, and I doubt that he has ever invented anything. Unless it is a glass which fills itself. He would be keen on that. Right now, I expect he is drinking more port than is good for him.”

  “Oh dear,” said the worthy gentleman of the same name. “Not at all like me then.”

  “No, decidedly not.”

  “Then we are on our own. It will obviously do no good to approach him. It is an excellent thing that I did not do so straight away. The encounter might have given him a great shock.”

  “It would probably just have been a blur,” Elizabeth said with feeling. “And he might be used to seeing things. But it certainly would have been of no use.”

  “Well, it is not as though I need any help. If anything, it will be easier for me to build another machine now that I know just what to do. I will not be wasting time testing things or making the same errors. I shall have to rework some calculations, but that will not take very long since I have much of the necessary information. Luckily, I have found the book which put me on the right track in the first place. It was in this library as well. And I also came across the same parts for my machine that I found in the sheds at our Netherfield. I have put them in the attic along with some pencils and paper for making notes and doing my calculations. It should be feasible for me to work there for the moment.”

  “You will need somewhere to sleep.”

  “The attic floor will do.”

  “No, it will not. You must have a bedchamber,” she insisted. “One of the unused ones at the end of the hall. It is unlikely that anybody will go in there, and you can lock the door just in case.”

  She walked along the hall and opened the last door that she came to. The room was cold, and the bed was currently stripped, but Mr. Hurst only looked at the table and chair.

  “This will do very well,” he said, while she was thinking that the bed must be made, preferably with some extra blankets to make up for the lack of a fire. “I shall be able to work better on a table, and it will be useful to have a door that I can lock. I shall just go up to the attic and bring down my things.”

  Using the side stairs, he went off on this errand, while Elizabeth went to find him some bedding. Fortunately, the housekeeper’s cupboard was not locked, and it was so well stocked that the borrowing of a few sheets and blankets from the back of the shelves would probably go unnoticed.

  While she was making up a bed for Mr. Hurst, he came into the room carrying some bits and pieces. His paper and pencils, and the little book were already on his table. Cautioning him to wrap up in a blanket if he became cold, Elizabeth left him to his calculations and hurried to see Jane. Aside from being eager to find out what her counterpart’s sister was like, she was feeling an obligation to assume the duties of a sister. Hopefully her other self was not an unpleasant person and had chosen to do the same in her reality.

  Beyond Comprehension

  With the idea that she was dreaming cast aside, Elizabeth went upstairs feeling greatly disturbed. Something was dreadfully wrong, but it was beyond her comprehension. People so different from what they ought to be. Things that had changed without reason. The possibility that Mr. Hurst had gone missing. And most of all, that strange vortex. It was all too fantastical.

  She opened the door to Jane’s bedchamber and stopped in astonishment upon seeing an empty bed. Her first thought was to fear for her sister’s safety, but then she caught sight of her own shawl lying upon a chair. She looked in the cupboard and saw more items of her own clothing. Everything which had been sent to Netherfield for her was in this room.

  This was another inexplicable occurrence. Jane had not been in any condition to change rooms. Nor was there any reason for her to have done so. Even if there had been, there were plenty of other rooms.

  Elizabeth left this chamber and went to the one which had been her own when she had last left it. There was her sister, sitting up in bed and looking reasonably well.

  “I am feeling much better,” she said. “Not that I was so very ill really. But I have received the kindness treatment from everybody.” Now that sounded just like Jane. Always so appreciative and ready to see the bright side of any situation. At least there seemed to be nothing strange here.

  “Did you have a pleasant time at dinner?” she asked.

  “I did,” Elizabeth replied. “We were an exceptionally cheerful company. Mrs. Hurst was especially amiable.”

  “She always is,” Jane said. “I am glad that you like her as well, but then who could not like her?”

  There was nothing surprising in this remark. Jane had always held a generous opinion of Mr. Bingley’s sisters. But then she added, “I am very lucky that such a nice person is going to be my sister.”

  What was this? Was Jane delirious and believing herself to be engaged to Mr. Bingley? Elizabeth did not want to upset her sister by contradicting her, but she studied Jane with great concern.

  “Why do you look at me so, Lizzy? I am sure you can stop worrying about me. My throat is hardly sore at all, and I have barely coughed all day.”

  “That is excellent,” Elizabeth said, not knowing what to think. It had been confusing enough to find things so strange at dinner, but now her sister seemed not to be her usual self, and that was especially distressing. She did not want to upset Jane with any further enquiry though.

  Instead she brought up another matter of curiosity. “Mr. Darcy was also exceptionally nice to me at dinner.”

  Jane laughed. “Of course he was. The man dotes upon you, Lizzy. I do not know what you can mean by exceptionally nice when he has been so affectionate toward you almost since the moment you met.”

  Elizabeth did not know what to say to this. Mr. Darcy had insulted her when they first met. Far from being affectionate, he had almost been quarrelsome whenever they talked, which was not very often. He was not friendly to her at all.

  She reached out and put her hand upon Jane’s forehead. It was not burning.

  “Never satisfied without checking for yourself,” Jane said with a smile. “But now you see that I really am quite well.”

  She obviously was. Delirium was apparently not her reason for saying absurd things. Elizabeth wondered whether she herself was the delirious one. Maybe she had caught her sister’s illness without realizing it. She tentatively touched the back of her hand to her forehead, but her temperature felt quite normal. Not wanting Jane to see the gesture, she quickly dropped her hand.

  “Mr. Hurst did not show up for dinner at all,” she said next, still wanting to satisfy her curiosity on many things.

  “Mrs. Hurst has told me that he often does not.”

  Elizabeth was imagining him in a drunken stupor.

  “She told me about his work at dinner the other night,” Jane added. “I understand that he is always inventing things and sometimes completely forgets about his meals when he gets wrapped up in something. Mrs. Hurst says that she shudders to think how long he might go without eating if she did not have food sent to him. I could almost feel sorry for her, but she happily accepts this state of affairs. They are a wonderfully devoted couple.”

  Even though she had seen some indication of Mrs. Hurst’s devotion for herself, Elizabeth was still surprised to hear Jane speak of it. What on earth could be happening to all of them? The Hursts were not a devoted couple, and he would never forget a meal, or invent things.

  “Have you seen any of his inventions?” she asked.

  “Just the one in the library. Mrs. Hurst showed it to me before dinner the other day. Have you seen it as well? Did you not go into the library for a book?”

  “I did. I have seen it,” Elizabeth replied distractedly. If Jane had seen the machine two days ago, then it could not have just been put there this afternoon. Apparently, she had twice gone into the room without seeing it, yet she rememb
ered looking about when she had been in the library yesterday. If it had been there, she would have seen it.

  “Is it not quite fascinating?” Jane asked.

  “Oh, yes. It is indeed.”

  “Mrs. Hurst does not know what it does, but she told me that Mr. Hurst said it is completely unlike anything that has ever been invented, and that it will change the way we view the world.”

  My view of the world has certainly been changed, Elizabeth thought. Very disturbingly changed. “How intriguing,” was her reply.

  They talked for a while longer, but her mind was not very much focused on the conversation. She was preoccupied with the idea that this machine was responsible for the sudden changes in her life. They had begun from the moment she had been thrown out of that whirling vortex. That had also been the moment the device had appeared. It really did seem that it had not been there before. But it could not have suddenly appeared either.

  It was logical to think that something was wrong with her perception. Dreaming and feverishness had been discounted. Insanity was still a disturbing possibility, but in spite of everything, she still felt quite sane. Aside from trying to comprehend some very strange occurrences, her thought process seemed reasonable and her behaviour rational.

  Of course, insane people might commonly think that there was nothing wrong with them. Still, nobody else had looked upon her as though she were delusional. They had all treated her in an ordinary way.

  They also behaved as though everything made perfect sense to them. Nobody else seemed to be in any confusion. It did appear that she was the only one with any problem. Perhaps she had hit her head and was suffering from an injury which she was not capable of recognizing.

  Lying down seemed like a good idea. She might sleep for a bit and then wake up to find everything as it should be.

  When Jane decided that it was time for her to rest, Elizabeth left her with the intention of going to her own room and doing the same, but in the hall, she encountered Mr. Darcy.