First Impressions: A Contemporary Retelling of Pride and Prejudice

by Debra White Smith

  “Oh, and Eddi . . .” Mrs. DeBloom called and rushed to her side. She knelt beside Eddi’s chair as if they were grand conspirators. For once, Mrs. DeBloom seemed to forget her role as “matron superior.” “I told Dave that if he wasn’t back in here within twenty minutes, I’d send you after him.”

  “You what?!” Eddi gasped and recalled Mrs. DeBloom looking right at her while talking to Dave. His face had gone hard as if he detested the very idea of what his aunt suggested. Makes perfect sense, she thought, and possessed no doubts that Mrs. DeBloom fully understood the antagonism between them. So much so, she’d used Eddi as a threat to get him back into the house on time.

  Eddi prepared to decline the honor of going after Dave, but stopped herself when she thought of that mysterious building. “Sure, I’ll go get him,” she offered and tried not to sound too curious. She turned to tell Jenny she’d be right back, but Jenny had cruised off with Calvin again. The two sat on the edge of the stage, sharing Calvin’s script.

  Standing, Eddi found the nearest trash can and discarded her plate and soda. By the time she turned from her task, Dave was slipping through one of the French doors behind the refreshment bar. With a confident swagger and a jubilant glow, he meandered toward his aunt. After placing an arm on the small of her back, he spoke into her ear and offered the thumbs-up sign. Mrs. DeBloom patted his face as if he were a favored son.

  Eddi eyed that small brick building. One day she would discover what lay between those walls—even if it took two years.

  Six

  Later that night, Eddi lay across the middle of her brass bed while Jenny claimed the floor. Her back propped against the bed, Jenny stretched her legs upon the area rug. Eyes bleary, Eddi observed the digital clock on her nightstand. Midnight was nearly upon them, and Eddi had promised her mother and sisters she’d take them to her church in the morning.

  After arriving home from play practice two hours ago, Eddi coerced Jenny into reading some of the play with her. During practice, Dave had spoken most of his lines with precision and far more finesse than Eddi ever imagined—and that after merely glancing at his script. She, on the other hand, had been tied to her manuscript, even though she had recently read the book.

  The gloating triumph that Dave didn’t attempt to hide drove Eddi to have all of Act One memorized by the next practice, a mere seven days away. Presently, Jenny was reading every line but Eddi’s.

  “Let’s finish this scene,” Eddi said and shifted her weight to her right elbow. “I think it’s a good stopping point.”

  “Great.” Jenny yawned and flipped her ponytail onto the mattress. She closed her script, dropped it, and propped the back of her head against the bed’s edge. “You’re about to wear me out. I came up here this weekend to relax. I didn’t know I was going to encounter a slave driver.”

  “Oh, give it a break!” Eddi grumbled and tugged her sister’s ponytail. “This isn’t so bad, and you know it. Besides all that, you never gave Mrs. DeBloom a final answer about whether or not you’d play Jane. If you accept the role, you’ll need all the practice you can get.”

  “She said Carissa Barclay was her first choice,” Jenny said. “Remember?”

  “Yes, but Calvin wasn’t so hot on the idea of his sister playing the leading lady.” Eddi rested her chin in her hand.

  “I know.”

  “And Mrs. DeBloom seemed to think Carissa might not be that dependable. She even missed the first practice.”

  “Yeah, and like I’m going to be more dependable! I’d be driving from The Woods for every weekend practice, and there’s no guarantee I wouldn’t miss a performance this fall after I start teaching again.” Jenny repeated the yawn.

  “Well, maybe you and Carissa could strike a bargain. You could both play Jane. You could play her the weekends you could get free from work, and she could perform the other weekends. That way, neither of you is so tied down.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Jenny flexed her neck. “I’d still have to memorize my part. I’m not really sure I’m committed enough to memorize all these lines. I’ve never been a bookworm like you, you know.” She lifted her arms and stretched them to the ceiling.

  “I’m beginning to wish Mom and Linda had been awake when we got home. Maybe you would have roped one of them into this contest of wills between you and this Dave character.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “The way things look, you’re going to kill yourself trying to outdo him before this play is over.”

  “I think the jerk has a photographic memory.” Eddi rested her forehead in her palm and enjoyed the faint scent of citrus body spray that lingered on her skin.

  “So let him win!” Jenny waved her hand.

  “If only I could,” Eddi said, “but it’s just not that easy.”

  “I don’t understand why you even accepted the role of Elizabeth, considering how you feel about him. Or maybe you don’t really dislike—”

  “I couldn’t not accept it—not after the way he acted.”

  Jenny sighed and lifted her head. “Nothing like a little cooperation among the cast.”

  Eddi flopped onto her back and held her script inches from her face. “Would that we were all so agreeable as you, Jenny,” she drawled. “At least Calvin seems to think so, anyway.” Eddi looked at her sister out of the corner of her eye.

  “Where were we, anyway?” Jenny asked and rustled her script. “I’ve lost my place.”

  “Okay . . .” Eddi examined her lines and smiled. That was the third time Jenny had sidestepped a reference to Calvin. “We’re to the part where Elizabeth, Jane, and their mother are discussing Darcy with Charlotte Lucas and her family.” Eddi placed her finger on the text and found the last line they’d read. “Okay, you’re supposed to start with Charlotte where she says, ‘Darcy’s pride does not offend me so much.’”

  “Oh, sure, okay,” Jenny agreed. “Here we go. ‘Darcy’s pride does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favor, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud.’”

  “‘That is very true,’” Eddi read and tried to commit Elizabeth’s lines to memory, “‘and I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.’”

  Jenny’s unrestrained giggles tottered around the room.

  “What?” Eddi asked and lowered her manuscript. She stretched her legs and looked at the ceiling fan’s brass-trimmed blades lazing through rotation after rotation.

  “Oh nothing,” Jenny said. Her giggles escalated to hilarity.

  After a sigh, Eddi rubbed her sagging eyes and began to think she may have truly driven Jenny too hard. Her sister was developing a serious case of the Boswick midnight goofies.

  “This is all just too funny for words,” Jenny finally said.

  “What?” Eddi demanded again and sat up. She swung her legs off the side of the bed, and her bare feet brushed the thick-piled rug.

  “If you have to ask, there’s no sense in my telling you,” Jenny said. She looked up at Eddi as if she were the possessor of some mystical secret, just as she had in the car before play practice.

  “Okay, the time has come to spill it, sister dear,” Eddi challenged. “We’ve never beaten around the bush with each other. No sense starting now.”

  “I think the person whose pride has been hurt is you,” she blurted. “And you and Dave Davidson are both protesting too much about your dislike for the other.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that he seemed to be using his photographic memory to memorize every detail of you tonight as much as his lines, and that you—”

  “Are you saying you think he’s attracted to me or something?” Eddi croaked.

  “Well, it would appear—”

  Eddi grabbed a pillow and crashed it against Jenny’s head.

  “Hey, you!” Jenny swiveled to look up at her sister.
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  “Don’t you ever say anything like that to me again. If you do I’ll make you eat this pillow.”

  Jenny snatched the pillow from Eddi and bounded to her feet. She whacked Eddi in the face, and Eddi toppled backward. She reached for the head of the bed and grabbed more ammunition. By the time Jenny was posing for another blow, Eddi smacked her midsection and then dragged her onto the bed. Both sisters collapsed into a tangle of arms and legs and dissolved into a chorus of laughter.

  “Oh my word,” Jenny said, “I think I landed on your script.” She rolled to her side and extracted the text. “Here, take it and go torment somebody else with it.” She dropped the play on Eddi’s face.

  Eddi snatched it off and started to close the pages for the night, but a section of dialogue grabbed her attention. “Okay, Miss Smarty Pants, here’s one for you—straight from Charlotte Lucas,” she accused and began reading a few more lines. “‘Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.’”

  “That’s about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jenny said.

  “Elizabeth Bennet would agree with you. But . . .” Eddi propped herself up on her elbow and gazed down at her sister, “I’m wondering if Calvin Barclay wouldn’t agree with Charlotte Lucas. He seemed ready to trot down the aisle tonight with somebody we won’t mention after knowing her only a few hours.”

  “I thought you said we didn’t beat around the bush, sister dear,” Jenny said and confronted her with frank appraisal. “You’ve done nothing but beat around the bush about Calvin ever since we left the play practice.”

  “And you’ve done nothing but sidestep my hints,” Eddi admonished.

  “Well . . .”

  “Whatever happened to poor Hal Gomez?” Eddi asked.

  “Poor Hal Gomez?” Jenny echoed. “Since when are you on his side?”

  “His side?” Eddi repeated. “Since when are the two of you divided into sides? I thought you were talking marriage. Now the next thing I know you’re blushing and falling into Calvin Barclay’s lap!”

  “What?” Jenny erupted. “I did no such thing!”

  “Yeah, and you didn’t discourage the guy, either.”

  “Well,” Jenny rested her arm against her forehead and gazed at the ceiling, “I’ve just been wondering lately if Hal is the right one, you know? Marriage is such a big, big step. I don’t know. . . .” She shrugged.

  “Well, Hal certainly does seem to care about you. And in my opinion he’s better looking than Calvin any day. I guess it’s just the Latin appeal or something, I don’t know.”

  “Good looks aren’t everything. If they were, you’d be after Dave Davidson.”

  “Oh pulllleeeezzzze!” Eddi howled.

  “Besides all that, Calvin isn’t half bad, if you ask me. Your problem is you’ve always preferred tall and dark over blond. You know, the Dave Davidson variety,” Jenny added with a mischievous smile.

  Eddi feigned a bear growl before Jenny continued, “In my opinion, Calvin’s every bit as good looking as Hal.”

  “So I gathered,” Eddi drawled. “And I’d hazard to guess Calvin didn’t think you were half bad, either. I’m not kidding, he seemed ready to pop the question after one meeting.”

  “Oh, Eddi, don’t be so melodramatic,” Jenny said. “Calvin and I just met, and Hal and I aren’t even engaged. You’re acting like we’re already married, and I’m some sort of polygamist.”

  “I guess I just thought the two of you had an understanding.”

  Jenny remained silent. Tense and silent.

  The sound of canine toenails clicked on the hallway tile, and Eddi sat up. “Hey, Roddy!” she called. “I’m in here, baby.”

  A pug bulldog trotted into the room and wagged his way toward Eddi’s bed. She bent to pick up her prized friend. Someone had actually turned him in at the dog pound a few months back. Eddi had arrived within two hours of his incarceration and immediately adopted him.

  Roddy grunted and licked her face.

  “I just know I’ve seen Dave Davidson before,” Jenny mused, her gaze still upon the ceiling.

  “Yes, we’ve all heard that rumor,” Eddi quipped. “He’s probably just a movie star look-alike or something,” she added and wondered at Jenny’s fixation over the subject.

  “He’s got the looks,” Jenny admitted.

  “If you like a cross between Clint Eastwood, Sylvester Stallone, and Count Dracula.”

  “Oooo, you’re cold, Edwardia,” Jenny said.

  Eddi shot her an if-you-ever-call-me-that-again-I’ll-kill-you look.

  “Oops!” Jenny covered her lips. “Sorry.”

  “You look really sorry, Jennifer!”

  “I think it’s time for me to go to bed.” Jenny sat up. “Otherwise we might not ever speak to each other again.”

  “Sweet dreams,” Eddi said and slapped Jenny on her rear.

  “Keep your hands off me,” Jenny hissed and wrinkled her nose at her sister. “I’m not that kind of woman!”

  “How well I know,” Eddi said. “If anybody out there will be a virgin on her wedding night, it will be you, sister.”

  “I hazard to guess we won’t be able to say the same thing about Linda,” Jenny mused, and her eyes clouded. “She’s probably already blown that option.”

  “If she hasn’t,” Eddi said, “she will at the rate she’s going. Can you believe she actually winked at those policemen at lunch?”

  Jenny touched her forehead. “I nearly died!”

  Roddy snuffled at Eddi’s neck and yawned. “Are you ready to go night-night, boy?” Eddi crooned and picked up the scent of cat food on Roddy’s breath. While her two felines resented the dog for his canine dispositon, they despised him when he stole their food.

  “Most husbands don’t have it as good as that mutt,” Jenny grumbled on her way out.

  Eddi snatched a throw pillow and hurled it at Jenny. The missile hit her head, crashed into the oak dresser, and toppled to the floor.

  “I’m going to pretend that didn’t happen,” Jenny said without ever turning around. “I’m too tired to retaliate.” She paused in the doorway and faced her sister. “But don’t think I’ll forget it.” Jenny shook her finger at Eddi and disappeared down the hall.

  With a satisfied chuckle, Eddi scratched her dog’s ears. She stood, shoved back the covers, and deposited Roddy on the bed. The pug walked to his side and plopped down. After crossing his paws, he propped his head on them and looked up at Eddi.

  Soon, Eddi had prepared for bed. She clicked off the lamp, slid under the covers, and relaxed against the pillow. Observing her pet snuggled in the shadows, Eddi wondered if she’d be the one Boswick sister left sleeping with her dog until she retired. She stroked the dog’s ears. He licked her fingers, and Eddi rested her hand on his back.

  She closed her eyes and allowed her muscles to relax, her mind to unwind. Soon, she drifted into a light sleep, harassed by erratic dreams that escalated into nightmares. Eddi was dressed in a wedding gown, walking down the aisle. The groom, his back to her, faced the minister. The organ music bellowed across the sanctuary and sounded more like a horror movie theme than a day of celebration. Eddi strained to identify the groom, who remained an enigma . . . until he turned to take Eddi’s hand.

  The evil groom with glowing red eyes was none other than Dave Davidson. She tried to scream, but only produced a pathetic garble. Dave’s black goatee proved the perfect companion for a sinister smile that resembled the devil himself. He enveloped her hands with his even though Eddi fought against his grasp. She tried to pull away, but he held on to her so hard her arm tingled up to her shoulder. Her heart pounding, Eddi released a stifled cry for help.

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sp; Another hand gripped her from behind. Eddi strained against the threat, but her feet refused to move. Jenny’s voice floated from a distant land, and Eddi screamed for her sister’s help. Eddi’s struggles heightened Dave’s resolve. His eyes glowed redder as he wrapped his arms around her and lowered his face. A demonic roar hovered over the chapel, and the rafters collapsed to the floor with the boom of shattering wood.

  Dave’s arms grew tighter. He threw her to the floor and shielded her with his body. As the roar diminished, his face hovered over Eddi’s. His eyes changed from devilish red to an inviting pool of inky resolve. The goatee vanished. Eddi’s pulse, once pounding in dread, now hammered in anticipation. She reached to tangle her willing fingers into his unruly hair.

  But Jenny’s urgent voice began jarring Eddi’s mind as profusely as the hand that shook her shoulder. Eddi tried to knock the hand aside as she strained to press her lips against Dave’s, but her left arm was tingling instead of moving.

  Finally, she crashed to consciousness and realized she wasn’t in Dave’s arms, nor was she wearing a wedding gown. Instead, Eddi was tangled in suffocating sheets, her pulse hammering at the base of her throat. Drenched in sweat, Eddi rolled onto her back and opened her eyes a centimeter. Jenny’s pale face hovered inches over hers, and the hallway light offered a dim illumination of her animated features.

  “What do you want?” Eddi slurred, her mouth dry.

  “I couldn’t go to sleep. I’ve been on the internet with my laptop,” Jenny stated while Eddi tried to organize her disoriented thoughts.

  “It’s taken me two hours,” Jenny continued, “but I found out who Dave Davidson really is!” Her eyes wide, she tugged on Eddi’s arm. “Come on! You’re not going to believe it!”

  Seven

  Jenny’s words worked like a double jolt of caffeine. “What?” Eddi demanded. She tossed aside the covers and lowered her feet to the floor. “Did you say he’s on the internet?”