An Alternate Perspective

by Wynne Mabry

  “I just came up to see if Mr. Hurst was in his room,” he said. “He was not in the library when Bingley and I went there after dinner, and we are wondering where he has gotten to.”

  “He is not in the attic,” Mr. Bingley called out at the moment. Elizabeth turned to see him coming toward them from the end of the hall.

  “Do you think he might have gone outside?” Mr. Darcy asked.

  “Of course. That must be it.” Mr. Bingley smiled happily. “I expect he went to retrieve some of that junk which I had sent out this morning after he knocked it over.”

  Elizabeth suddenly thought of the brass objects which had made such a racket earlier. Would junk being knocked over make a similar noise? Had Mr. Hurst really knocked the brass off the table, or was she confused about that as well?

  “He is probably already back in the library while we are looking about like a pair of worried nannies,” Mr. Bingley added.

  Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy to see how he would take this description of himself, but he was also smiling. Once again, he held his arm out to her, and the three of them went downstairs together.

  A Little Nudge in the Right Direction

  On opening the door of the bedchamber, Elizabeth was shocked to discover the apparent disappearance of Jane, who ought to be there since she had been mentioned at dinner. Her mind immediately flew to the vortex, but then she shook her head. Presumably this Jane had been safely upstairs. She could not possibly have been sucked in. Besides, they had not seen anybody else at its other end.

  A little further examination showed that this must be the other Elizabeth’s chamber. In the closet were clothes identical to her own. It seemed that the two of them had the same taste in terms of colour and style. That was a heartening discovery. Two people who chose identical clothes could not be very different from each other. That made her feel more confident that her friends were not having to endure the presence of an unpleasant person. It also increased her hopes of finding that this Jane was like her own.

  Since she had wanted to hide her ring, it was actually convenient that she had come in here first. Once it had been safely concealed on a chain under her bodice, she went across the hall to the room which was hers in the other reality and opened the door tentatively, wondering if this was the correct bedchamber.

  There was Jane, sitting up in bed and looking like she was recovering, which made Elizabeth feel hopeful that her own sister was in the same situation.

  She received an affectionate greeting with some relief. Here was a person in whose company she could be reasonably content. This Jane did seem to be like her own sister. Aside from any obligation to her other self, Elizabeth felt quite happy to fulfill a sisterly role to this lady.

  She was soon feeling so comfortable that honesty slipped out when Jane enquired how dinner had been.

  “Mr. Darcy was very disagreeable,” she said disconsolately.

  Jane looked rather surprised. “It is not as though you have ever found him agreeable,” she said. “Indeed, I sometimes think you take pleasure in disliking him.”

  What a dreadful idea. To cover her consternation, Elizabeth laughed and said, “You understand me too well. It is just that I found him especially disagreeable today.”

  “I am sorry that you have to spend so much time with him just because you were so kind as to come and stay with me.”

  Elizabeth did not want her sort-of-sister to be feeling so guilty. “Oh, it is nothing,” she said in a light tone. “As you say, I am quite used to Mr. Darcy. I can bear his company for a few days.”

  She certainly had no intention of mentioning her disappointment in the Hursts. “At least Mr. Bingley is as friendly as ever,” she added, feeling that this was a safe thing to say.

  “He is a very kind person,” Jane agreed. Her voice was warm, yet there was something of detachment, which was consistent with their not being engaged. She was not wearing a ring either. But Elizabeth thought that she liked him very much. There had been a hint of that in her voice, and with two of them being very like their other selves, there was a strong probability that they would be attracted to each other in any reality.

  Some further conversation made it evident that Jane did have a very strong partiality for Mr. Bingley. She also continued to be exactly like her other self, which was comforting. If Elizabeth was going to be stuck here for a while, which seemed to be very likely, it was nice to know that one part of her existence would be much the same.

  She only hoped that they would not be stuck here forever. What if Mr. Hurst could not manage to replicate his device? It would be unbearable to go on without Mr. Darcy’s love, especially if she had to keep up an acquaintance with that man who had his name and his face but was not him.

  That sorry thought was uppermost in her mind when she left Jane to get some rest and went down to the drawing room, feeling that she ought to put in at least a brief appearance. She had done so at the Netherfield in her reality yesterday, but at that time it had been a pleasure. Today it was likely to be a trial. Still, it would be rude to ignore the company altogether.

  To give herself something to do, she decided to take her needlework downstairs with her. That would make it easier for her to avoid looking at Mr. Darcy. It was painful to see that face which was so familiar and yet so different.

  The needlework was another thing which was just the same. Elizabeth looked at it with interest. This piece of embroidery had progressed exactly as far as her own, and the stitches looked like hers. She wondered if the other Elizabeth was holding her work at that moment. If so, was she looking at it as her own or had she formed some understanding of what had happened? Her evening must have been puzzling, but if she had felt comfortable enough to speak of it, then that might have provided a clue to her own friends, who must be wondering where Mr. Hurst was by now.

  In the drawing room, Mr. Darcy was writing a letter, and Miss Bingley was hanging over him. It was just like the other Miss Bingley might behave, except that Fitzwilliam would pay no attention to her. Elizabeth had seen similar behaviour before, and it had never given her any cause for jealousy, but now she felt an inexplicably strong objection to this behaviour. As this Mr. Darcy was unattached, it occurred to her that he could actually be interested in Miss Bingley. Perhaps even thinking of marrying her. And that would not do.

  Considering that she did not even like this man, it should not matter to her what he did. But the idea of him marrying Miss Bingley bothered her very much. It simply did not feel like the right match for him.

  She was pleased to see some evidence which contradicted her idea. He did not seem to care for Miss Bingley’s compliments or her offer to mend his pen. Nor would he accommodate her request to include a message from her in the letter to his sister.

  One of her compliments drew Mr. Bingley into a discussion about writing letters. Elizabeth suspected that he had decided it was time to interrupt his sister’s rather obvious attentions to Mr. Darcy. This turned into something like one of those bantering conversations that her own Fitzwilliam and Charles often had. The only difference was that on Mr. Darcy’s side everything was said with such seriousness.

  Her fiancé might well have said something similar, but there would have been more amusement in his voice. He would also have laughed at his friend’s witty conclusion, but this man looked more like he was offended. Because of this, Elizabeth was careful not to laugh.

  He went back to writing his letter, and she turned her attention to her needlework, but her thoughts were still of him, and now they were thoughts of concern. She did not think he was as happy as he could be. There were ways in which the two men were not quite as different as she had assumed from his aloofness at dinner. But this one was lacking the ease of her Mr. Darcy, who had more tolerance for being laughed at.

  He finished the letter, and after that, Miss Bingley went to play the pianoforte, with Mrs. Hurst singing in accompaniment. For her own peace of mind, Elizabeth kept her eyes cast downward for the longest time
, but she could not stop herself from taking a glance at Mr. Darcy eventually.

  To her surprise, she saw that he must have been looking at her. Their eyes met, and then he looked away in obvious confusion. Suddenly it seemed possible that this man really did feel an attraction for the other Elizabeth. There had been admiration in that look, but also discomfort.

  Now she guessed it all. He was attracted to her other self, but he was fighting against his own feelings. It was not so incomprehensible. His conversation had shown her that he possessed the same intelligence as her fiancé. Now she considered that he had other similar attributes as well, just in different quantities.

  Her Mr. Darcy was proud, but this one was prouder. Hers had been dismayed by her family, but that had not stopped him from loving her. This one was probably even more dismayed, and incapable of seeing past the disadvantages of loving his Elizabeth.

  “Do you not feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel,” he suddenly asked, breaking into her thoughts in a most surprising way.

  She could only interpret this remark as a hint that he wanted to be dancing with her. How would the other Elizabeth have responded? If she really disliked him, she might perhaps say something cutting in return. But what if her sister was wrong, and she really was attracted to Mr. Darcy. Would she encourage this offer?

  While Elizabeth was thinking, he repeated the question. One thing was obvious to her. She could not take the chance of encouraging hostility between them. But neither could she be too forward. The logical solution was to return the choice to him.

  “Oh, I did hear you,” she said. “I was just surprised by the question. Are you wishing to dance a reel?”

  Now he looked surprised, but then he said, “It would be a pleasant diversion.”

  “Dancing is always pleasant,” she agreed, wondering if he always hedged around his real desires in this hesitant way.

  She did not expect him to pursue this any further, but then he surprised her again by asking, “Would you care to dance with me?”

  She could not refuse him. Hoping that the other Elizabeth would not think this a great disservice, she stood up and allowed Mr. Darcy to lead her to an open space. If as he did, she wondered what on earth she was doing and hoped that this really was a helpful deed. Perhaps the two of them belonged together, and they only needed to stop disagreeing with each other. Accepting his suggestion could be a helpful beginning.

  Since Miss Bingley was already well into the Scotch air that she was playing, they only danced for a short time, but it was enough for Elizabeth to think that this Mr. Darcy could be as delightful as her own. He smiled now and was obviously enjoying himself. Once he laughed, and it sounded so much like her Fitzwilliam.

  Because of that, she was relieved that it was only a short dance. Seeing him look so happy was a painful reminder of what she was missing and fearing to lose altogether. Perhaps it had been easier on her when he was not agreeable. Now, she needed to get away from this company and compose herself.

  When the music ended, Miss Bingley looked up with a peevish expression. She then began to play a piece unsuitable for dancing. Elizabeth had no concern about having made her jealous, as was obviously the case. Indeed, it made her feel satisfied that she had danced. Miss Bingley needed to be discouraged. Mr. Darcy was not for her.

  As she collected her needlework, Elizabeth wondered if she might encourage him to be friendlier. Perhaps he did need some nudging toward his proper fate. Could she help him? And should she? It was her feeling that the pair ought to be together, but her other self might strongly object to that idea. More importantly, would it be wrong to interfere in the events of another reality? This was not her world, so she should not be meddling in its affairs. She bid the others a good evening, thinking that she must take greater care tomorrow.

  Mr. Darcy was left wondering what had come over him. He had not meant to pay any attention to her, or to draw attention to himself, and now he had done both in one fell swoop. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were glaring at him, and Mr. Bingley looked astonished. At least Mr. Hurst had slept through the incident.

  The problem was that Elizabeth Bennet had been bewitching him for weeks. That remark about dancing a reel had come out of his mouth in another incautious moment. He needed to be more careful. Yet he was already thinking that if Bingley did hold a ball at Netherfield, then he would ask her to dance. In the past few weeks, he had often regretted not having done so at the assembly. This ball would be a chance to correct that error.

  An Extraordinary Explanation

  Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Bingley entered the library in a hopeful mood, but that changed once they saw that Mr. Hurst was not there.

  “Even if he did go out for those things, he should not have been gone very long,” Mr. Bingley said. “I am beginning to feel quite concerned.”

  “Perhaps a search of the area around the shed would be a good idea,” Mr. Darcy suggested. “I hate to suggest it, but he might have slipped and suffered an injury.”

  “I shall get a couple of servants and go out at once,” Mr. Bingley said, striding out of the room.

  “I hope you do not mind if I go as well,” Mr. Darcy said to Elizabeth. “I would rather help to look for him than stand around waiting.”

  “Of course,” she said. “That is quite understandable.”

  It was his concern about leaving her that was difficult to understand. She was thinking about that as he hurried away. Why was he so solicitous toward her?

  Left alone, she first thought of going to the drawing room, but then she decided to remain in the library. If Mr. Hurst was not found, and she feared he would not be, then she must tell Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley about the things which had happened to her earlier, and her suspicion that he had somehow been affected as well. She could not do that in front of Mrs. Hurst.

  There was a newspaper on one of the tables. She sat down and picked it up to while away the time until they came back. There was a piece about the recent Luddite uprising, which was not much of a distraction since it had to do with machinery, but then she read the latest news from the Peninsula and various other articles which provided better distraction from her own worries.

  That lasted until she was struck by something which made her situation a great deal more disturbing. She read something about the prime minister, but the name in print before her was not the name of the prime minister as she knew it. Evidently it was not just at Netherfield that things were not what they should be.

  She carried on looking through the paper, now intently searching for things which were not consistent with her knowledge of the world. Although there was nothing else so significant, a few things were contradictory to what she thought she knew. Each instance increased her feeling of alarm. There was nothing which could account for the world suddenly being different as well.

  When she came to the society announcements, she was about to put down the paper when her own name caught her eye. In the greatest astonishment, she read that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, daughter of Thomas Bennet of Longbourn, was lately engaged to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.

  Engaged to Mr. Darcy! This was impossible. They had never liked each other. Before today, he had rarely spoken to her. He would never have asked her to marry him. Nor would she have accepted such an offer. Not if he were the last man in the world.

  But here it was in print. Either somebody had done both of them a shocking disservice, or else the world really had gone topsy turvy. Yet Mr. Darcy had been behaving exactly as though they were engaged. It seemed that she was the one who could not remember anything properly.

  She put down the paper and stared at the machine. What did it do? What could all those knobs control? And how did it work? Perhaps one only had to move those levers. She was very curious to know if this machine created a whirling vortex, but not especially keen to risk the consequences of one. After all, things had begun to be inconsistent immediately after that strange occurrence. Ther
e must be some connection.

  “We could not find him by the sheds.” Mr. Darcy’s voice broke into her thoughts, and he sounded even more concerned now. She looked up to see that he and Mr. Bingley both looked worried.

  “I was afraid that you would not,” she said.

  “I have no idea what to say to Louisa,” Mr. Bingley said. I do not want to tell her that her husband has disappeared. Do you think anything could have happened to him?” he asked Mr. Darcy. “His scientific experiments are sometimes rather risky.”

  Elizabeth spoke up now. “There was something earlier. Some sort of vortex.” She paused, but they did not exclaim any doubt or ridicule, so she continued. “I was in the library putting my book away before dinner, and there was a small glow in the middle of the room. In a short time, it turned into a large mass of spiralling light, which pulled upon me and then threw me across the library.”

  “You were not injured, I hope,” Mr. Darcy said with concern.

  “No, I was not. Only a little dizzy and rather shaken.” She still did not dare mention the changes which she had since experienced. Especially since he was one of them.

  “But why did you not say anything of this earlier?”

  “I did not think anyone would believe me.”

  “I can understand that,” Mr. Bingley said with a grin. “I remember the first time I saw one of Mr. Hurst’s creations.”

  But Mr. Darcy was not grinning. “I would always believe you,” he said, sounding a little hurt. Just as a fiancé might be hurt by a lack of confidence in him.

  “Was Mr. Hurst there at the time?” Mr. Bingley asked. “Have you any reason to think this vortex connected with his disappearance?”

  “He was not exactly there, but I thought that I saw him. In the centre of that spiralling light, actually.”

  Now they did stare at her with looks which came near to disbelief.

  “In the light?” Mr. Darcy repeated, making Elizabeth fear that he thought her foolish after all.