Feather in the Wind: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Madeline Kennet

  Sometimes she allowed her fingers to lightly brush against his arm. It was meant to be provocative, he supposed, but he only found it a great irritant.

  She had also developed a habit of taking a turn about the room. This involved a slow and carefully calculated walk, which would take her conveniently back and forth past his seat. He had observed the affected movements of her hands and the slight sway of her body, which was no doubt intended to catch his eye and make him muse upon her beauty and elegance.

  He was only more irritated. This sort of contrived elegance had no appeal to him. He had to admit to himself that in the past he had admired such movements in some ladies, but now he had a different ideal of perfection – one which was based upon the recollection of a lively young lady with a skip in her step.

  Rainy Day

  Elizabeth sat watching the pouring rain. It splattered against the glass and streamed down the pane, blurring her view of the soggy garden. She felt confined and constrained.

  In recent days, there had been no invitations for dinners or evening parties, which had greatly tried her patience. They had not been out at all, except for one morning when her mother, anxious for matters to progress between Jane and Mr. Bingley, had decided to pay another call upon the ladies at Netherfield. To her disappointment, the gentlemen were not at home.

  “How vexing to have chosen the wrong moment,” Mrs. Bennet had said on the way home.

  In her own way, Elizabeth had shared her mother’s vexation. On the way there, she had made an effort to contain her excitement. On the way back, she had struggled to hide her own disappointment. In between, she was forced to be polite to Mr. Bingley’s sisters, whose haughty manners were not at all to her taste.

  Thank goodness it was Jane, and not she, who was obliged to spend this evening dining with them. It was just to be the ladies, as the gentlemen were dining out, which meant that the company would be entirely intolerable in Elizabeth’s opinion. There seemed little prospect of pleasure in store for her sister. On top of that, there was a very good chance that Jane had been caught in the downpour. To arrive soaking wet would add another very different element to her discomfort. She really should not have followed her mother’s direction and gone on horseback.

  ______

  Mr. Darcy listened to the rain drumming on the carriage roof. It echoed his discontent. They had not been anywhere in several days, and now that they were at last dining out, it was only with the officers. There would be no ladies in attendance. Their absence might improve the conversation, which had lately been much too frivolous for his taste; however, he would have willingly endured the lack of rational discussion for a chance to see the two ladies who still eluded him.

  His impatience was increased by having narrowly missed an opportunity two days ago. He and Mr. Bingley had been out in the morning and had returned home to learn that the Bennet ladies had paid a visit while they were gone.

  Mr. Bingley had been sorry not to have seen them, but his expressions of regret had been the tempered ones of a man who had recently seen the object of his admiration and had, moreover, the certainty that he would see her again before long.

  Mr. Darcy had been much more affected. Although he had done his best to appear unconcerned, he had been irritated by the unfortunate timing. They had been home the previous morning, but nobody had visited then. If they had not gone out this morning, he might have found the answer to the question which had been uppermost in his mind for weeks.

  He had looked at the mantle, where invitations would sit if they had any. It was bare.

  “Have we any engagements?” he had asked Miss Bingley just in case there was anything new.

  “None at all,” she had said with satisfaction. “Our time is completely our own.”

  He had not shared her satisfaction with that state of affairs. In his opinion, any invitation would be welcome. But he had not calculated that the only one to arrive would be for a dinner devoid of any feminine presence.

  He recalled how easily that feather had fallen into his hand on a golden day. Since that moment, nothing had been easy. There had only been obstacles and frustration. Dismal evenings and now dismal sky. What did the future hold?

  Muddy Day

  The garden was still wet from the previous day’s downpour. Leaves glistened with moisture, and branches were bent under the burden of excess weight. In the lane, there were little streams where water remained in the long thin ruts left by carriage wheels. Near the village there was a sizable dip in the road which had turned into a vast puddle. A few young children from the village had found this pool a great source of amusement. As she approached, Elizabeth watched their jumping and splashing with great amusement. They politely ceased this gratifying activity to allow her to pass without becoming speckled with the mud as they were, and she continued on her way, smiling as she heard their shrieks of delight start up again.

  She wondered what their mothers would think when they saw the state of their offspring’s clothing, but her own was soon in a worse state. The reprieve at the puddle was rendered meaningless as dress, petticoat, stockings and shoes quickly became soiled once she left the lane and took the route across the fields which offered the shortest walk to Netherfield.

  Her path was a ribbon of mud dotted with puddles. The firmer patches were slick and slippery. On the softer ground, her feet sank into the mire. There was evidence of at least one other person having already passed the same way. In place footprints had been left on the path, and the streaks of mud on the stiles showed that other feet had climbed those steps.

  “I shall be fit to see Jane,” she had said before embarking on this filthy journey. As the time, her sister’s condition had completely occupied her thoughts, but along the way, it had occurred to her that she might encounter Mr. Darcy this morning, and she was rapidly becoming unfit for that momentous occasion. Much as she wanted to meet him, it might be better if he were not at home to see her in this state.

  ______

  Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had not bothered to mention their plan of inviting Jane to dinner, so when Mr. Bingley returned home, he was surprised to hear that she had stayed overnight due to the weather. He was even more shocked to realize that she had come on horseback.

  “We could have easily sent our carriage to collect her if you had mentioned it,” he said angrily.

  “There was no reason to think it necessary,” Miss Bingley protested. “How was I to know that her foolish parents would have her arrive to a dinner engagement in such an absurd fashion? Naturally I thought they would send her in their own carriage. Louisa and I were astonished when she arrived dripping wet.”

  “Dripping wet!”

  “She was quite all right after she dried herself,” his sister said dismissively.

  “I hope she was.”

  In the morning, when Jane did not appear downstairs, Miss Bingley attributed this to tardiness.

  “Who knows what sort of habits that family keeps,” she said.

  Mr. Bingley was not satisfied with this explanation and sent his sisters to check upon the well-being of their guest.

  “She is unwell,” Mrs. Hurst admitted when they returned.

  “It is only a trifling cold,” Miss Bingley asserted, “but as she did not feel able to rise, we advised her to remain in bed.”

  “I should think so,” Mr. Bingley said. “She must stay as long as necessary, and I shall have the apothecary summoned.”

  His sisters protested that their friend was not that ill, but he was determined and sent a servant on the errand.

  “I only hope that the entire family will not descend upon us to visit her,” Mrs. Hurst said.

  “What a dreadful thought,” her sister agreed. “Jane Bennet is a sweet girl, and I have no objections to being of assistance to her, but the rest of her family is intolerable.”

  “I suppose we must expect to see Miss Elizabeth since she is so set upon visiting the sick.”

  Mr. Darcy had just been thinking t
he same thing and wondering if his moment had come at last. If she did come to see her sister, he might soon know if Elizabeth Bennet was the lady whom he could not forget. And if she was not, he could conclude that those sparkling eyes belonged to Miss Lucas. He hoped not, however. It would be much more satisfying to finally meet the lady than merely to eliminate one possibility for her identity.

  The Lady at Last

  In a few more hours, Mr. Darcy had his answer. His heart leapt when he heard the sound of the door knocker. His heart pounded with anticipation as he listened to the footsteps in the hallway. The parlour door opened, and he saw the lady who had been living in his memory.

  Muddy shoes, filthy petticoat, and messy hair. Red cheeks, sparkling eyes, and an enchanting smile. Sparkling eyes. Just as he remembered her. Except for the dirt. But he did not care about that. At last he knew who she was.

  Elizabeth.

  Miss Bingley introduced them. He heard the hint of derision in her voice as she pronounced the name, but refused to let that spoil the moment.

  He bowed. She curtsied. Their eyes met, the gaze lingered, and he cared not who else was in the room. For a second time, an intense attraction swept over him. Did she feel it too?

  As he stepped back, he dared to think that she did. He had not been the only one holding that gaze.

  She made a request to see her sister, and Miss Bingley took her upstairs. His eyes lingered on Miss Bennet. Then he saw Miss Bingley’s critical eye studying the petticoat. She smiled knowingly at him.

  Irritated by the realization that she believed they had been sharing the same thoughts, he went off to the library before she could return. He would not take any part in listening to the snide remarks which would inevitably have followed. He knew Miss Bingley’s ways all too well.

  He selected a book, but it only served as an excuse for sitting on his own. He could not concentrate on reading, knowing that she was in the same house, knowing at last who she was, and wondering what would happen from this moment.

  Later, he and Mr. Bingley played billiards, which was a better diversion for his active mind than any attempt at reading. He did not see the others again until a short time before dinner, when Miss Bingley announced that what she described as an unfortunate occurrence.

  “I have been compelled to invite Miss Elizabeth to stay with us until her sister is well. It is a tedious turn of events, but my hand was forced by Miss Bennet’s unwillingness to part with her.”

  “If we are lucky, we shall not see much of her. She seems set upon spending her time nursing the sick.” Mrs. Hurst laughed.

  “I am sure the sickroom is the best place for her,” Miss Bingley said.

  Mr. Darcy could not agree. He did not wish for Elizabeth to be entirely shut away in her sister’s room. Nor did he think this development either tedious or unfortunate. It was an opportunity. He might see her for a few moments here and there. At the very least, she would dine with them.

  She was at the dinner table, but under Miss Bingley’s watchful eye, he could not start any meaningful conversation. The meal passed in a disappointing fashion, and Mr. Darcy feared that he was making a very poor second impression. He kept looking her way and then looking away again because he felt his inadequacy.

  Afterwards, Elizabeth went directly upstairs, and now he had to suffer hearing Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst take great delight in criticizing everything about Elizabeth. Her manners. The dullness of her conversation. Her lack of style, taste, and beauty. The wildness of her appearance this morning and that dirty petticoat in particular. Naturally, it was not forgotten.

  Mr. Bingley protested all of this to Mr. Darcy’s delight, but he could not leave the defence of the lady in his friend’s voice alone. His admiration of her called upon him to speak up in her defence.

  “What is a little mud compared to this evidence of concern and caring for her sister,” he said. “I scarcely noticed it, but I do take great notice of the lady’s commitment to her family and friends. What is more, she has very pretty eyes, which were brightened by the exercise. I cannot find any fault with her.”

  “No fault!” cried Miss Bingley. “She has an excess of fault. You have not had enough time for thorough observation, but only consider what we know of the family. Such a father and mother. The youngest girls are the most determined flirts that ever were. It is a disgrace to hear Miss Mary described as accomplished. And their connections! Even worse than you might have imagined. Miss Bennet told us of them at dinner yesterday. One uncle is an attorney in Meryton, and the other lives in Cheapside.”

  “Even if she had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside,” Mr. Darcy said, somewhat to his own surprise, “that would tell me nothing about her own character. You have not said anything which speaks to her faults.”

  “I quite agree,” Mr. Bingley said staunchly. “One hears too much about connections.”

  “Because they matter a great deal,” his sister declared.

  “Not in my opinion,” Mr. Darcy said, even though he was well aware that they always had mattered to him. But he had come to a turning point. Happiness is not just a matter of chance. It was a matter of opening one’s eyes to possibilities. He now saw one which he knew would have shocked him in the past, but he was prepared to let his heart make the choice, not his pride.

  The Right Man

  Elizabeth had experienced a moment of joy on first encountering Mr. Darcy. The meeting of their eyes gave her the belief that he shared her interest, and she could not perceive that he was bothered by her appearance.

  While spending the afternoon upstairs, she had wondered if their path might again cross that day. After accepting the invitation to stay, she had looked forward to dinner and any other opportunity to get to know Mr. Darcy better. She had come downstairs in an excellent mood.

  Then dinner had been such a disappointment.

  He had not been sullen, as she had once heard her mother describe him, but he had said so little. She had imagined that they would have a great deal to say to each other, but that idea had not come to fruition. He had barely looked at her, and the only thing she could perceive in his eyes was discomfort.

  Everything fell short of what she had been hoping for. That instant amity which had sprung up between them on the first moment of meeting had not been rekindled today, which was deeply disappointing.

  She had returned to Jane with a determination to focus on her primary task and not be distracted by foolishness. It had been absurd to get up such ridiculous hopes, and now she must bear their failure with fortitude.

  The next two hours were given over to making her sister comfortable, but after Jane fell into a restful sleep, Elizabeth felt the necessity of making an appearance in the drawing room. It would be polite to bring her hostess news of Jane’s condition and to spend a little time in company with the others.

  They were playing cards and invited her to join, but she chose to take up a book instead. It was not long before Miss Bingley began to toy with her by making a flippant remark that she did not take pleasure in anything other than reading. This observation was followed by some praise of both Mr. Darcy and his sister, and eventually led to a discussion of accomplishments. As she heard her hostess speak of exceptionally accomplished ladies, Elizabeth had no doubt that this was particularly directed at her.

  It was true that she was not particularly accomplished. It was clear, moreover, that Miss Bingley wished to make her feel inadequate. It also appeared that she wished to impress Mr. Darcy and had hopes of winning his admiration at the very least and preferably his affections as well.

  Elizabeth could not guess what his feelings were. His face displayed little emotion, but he appeared to agree with Miss Bingley upon the subject which was under discussion. He made a few remarks on the value of application and then contributed the opinion that the truly well accomplished lady was one who improved her mind by reading.

  Elizabeth began to doubt that she could hold any attraction for him, or that he was the agreeable p
erson she had thought him on their first encounter. But then he surprised her by making one more comment.

  “Rather like Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he said, giving her a glance in which she saw merriment. It looked as though he had noticed Miss Bingley’s ploys and was now choosing to make a declaration that his opinions were not allied with hers.

  She looked to be mortified and immediately changed the subject, saying little else to Elizabeth for the rest of the time she was in the drawing room. Neither did Mr. Darcy, but he did not say much in general. Instead, he looked to be deep in thought, but she was pleasantly surprised by the warmth of his manner in wishing her a good night when she left the room.

  As the day came to a close, she remained uncertain about what he was really like. For some reason, the conversation with her in the lane seemed to have brought out the best in him, but at the moment she could not find that man again.

  Ponds and Lakes

  To Miss Bingley’s dismay, Mrs. Bennet and her two younger daughters did put in an appearance at Netherfield on the following morning.

  “Did I not say this would happen?” she said to Mr. Darcy while they were upstairs. “No doubt we shall have them in and out of our home for the rest of the week if not longer. On top of that, we must put up with Miss Eliza every evening.”

  “She seems a pleasant lady,” he said in her defence.

  “Pleasant! I do not know how you can have formed that opinion.”

  He let this remark slide since it was impossible to offer any explanation which would satisfy Miss Bingley, and she continued to complain about her latest guests.

  They spent a little while upstairs and afterwards came into the breakfast parlour at her invitation, along with Elizabeth, who had come down with them. After her mother made a ridiculous speech, she and Mr. Bingley entered into some banter about the study of character, which led Mr. Darcy to say that a country neighbourhood could not provide many subjects for such a study as its society was confined and unvarying.