301Hi,
I'm writing a new story and trying something new here (hopefully). I find I'm more motivated to write when I post (semi) regularly, so please read and feel free to comment on what you feel works (or doesn't) likes and dislikes, etc. I'm hoping to have this edited and published by fall (fingers crossed), so this is a way to kick my butt into writing more. Thanks in advance and happy late summer.
Grace
Summary: Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy have disliked each other almost from the moment they met at the Meryton Assembly. What if each experienced the other's world by literally walking in their shoes? Pride, presumption, and pandemonium ensue as each learns the nuances of each other's lives.
Meryton Assembly
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was perturbed.
He had been under the impression there would be fewer people here in the country. Yet, from his vantage point at the entranceway to the small, rural assembly, he could see the main hall positively buzzed with laughing, chattering people.
Unknown chattering people.
Their eyes flicked to his small party with curiosity. Attention unnerved, and he could already feel the heat and noise coming from the overstuffed hall's interior.
He winced.
If there was one thing he disliked, it was a warm, overcrowded party. If there were two things he disliked-and truly, there were many more-it was small talk with strangers in a warm, overcrowded party.
The string music swirled to a crashing crescendo and ended, echoing as his party entered. Miss Caroline Bingley stepped uncomfortably close to him–he could smell her jasmine perfume–and whispered something to him that he did not make out. But he recognized her tone: mocking, disdainful.
It was the way Caroline often talked of people she did not know. It was exceedingly tiresome and they had only been at Netherfield for a full two days. He wondered how he might make it through the entire fortnight.
He'd made a mistake coming to this rustic backwater hamlet, even if he had done so for a good cause–to cheer a friend. Just then two women–cheeks pink with high spirits–tried to catch their breath as they squeezed past him on the threshold. He fought the urge to put a gloved finger to his temple.
Lord, society was tiring.
Ahead of him, Charles Bingley turned his carroty-colored head and beamed an angelic smile. "This looks like a ripping good time, eh Darcy?"
He sighed; he could not disagree more. But there was no convincing Bingley.
He was here. And if Bingley wanted to attend an awkward country dance in Nowhere-shire, that's what they would do.
"The attendees certainly seem boisterous," Caroline Bingley said tartly.
Darcy muttered an agreement, though he preferred not to feed her disdain. The only upside to this situation was watching her grow more askance at the rustic masses. But even that was not worth the price of attendance tonight. Darcy hoped to get through this evening quickly.
Elizabeth turned to avoid bumping into other assembly attendees and slipped closer to Charlotte Lucas near a cool breeze from the blissfully opened window. The hall was overwarm, which was usually the case when so many people filled the hall and spent the evening dancing and laughing enthusiastically. Steam bloomed on the window's etched glass.
"Whom do you wish to dance with?" Charlotte leaned in and asked Elizabeth, scanning the hall's inhabitants.
Elizabeth made a face as she looked over the hall. "No one in particular. I may dance with Thomas Wiley, although he is awkward, he is at least pleasant and always pleased to dance." Ahead of them, Thomas's tall head stuck out in the crowd like a pale bird. Thomas was fourteen and already one of the taller men in Meryton. He was a sweet boy, gangly, often standing alone. It was said that Thomas's mind was not as quick as he should be, but Elizabeth always found him very pleasant and charming and nearly sought him out when she could.
"Ah, your evergreen dancing partner," Charlotte said, smiling. "Someday you're going to need to move on from Thomas and dance with real men."
Elizabeth grinned. "Perhaps, but I am in no mood for dull talk with men who might step on my feet, which describes nearly all of the men here."
The music ended and a ripple of movement came from the front of the hall as a new party arrived. People's heads all turned to see who arrived.
The caller stood proudly, calling out the names of the new visitors: "Mr. Bingley of Netherfield, Miss Caroline Bingley, Mr. Hurst, Mrs. Hurst and Mr. Darcy of Pemberley."
Necks craned to see the new party who had let Netherfield.
"Is this Mr. Bingley I have heard so many speak of?" Charlotte asked.
Elizabeth stepped on her tiptoes to see the new entrants.
Mr. Bingley, a tall, cheerful-looking fellow, smiled and nodded. His sisters, draped in elegant Paris fashions, entered the room behind him, fanning themselves. Behind them was a tall dark-haired fellow in an elegant dress. He did not smile. Elizabeth sighed. Another self-serious gentleman.
"These are our Netherfield neighbors?" Charlotte said.
"A quizzical brow and elegant attire," Elizabeth said. "If only that were enough to make the man…"
"Perhaps they will make excellent dancing partners."
Elizabeth lowered her head to quietly giggle. "I'm sure I will not find out. Maybe Jane will catch his eye."
At that same moment he passed by, he positively glowered in her direction. Elizabeth did manage an off-balance bob.
How ridiculous he was! Coming to their village and staring at them as if they were three-headed? He would not make friends in Meryton in that way. "A very serious expression," Charlotte observed.
Elizabeth nearly laughed out loud.
"Perhaps he should have stayed in town then." She turned away. She had no time for self-serious peacocks.
"There is Lucy with her new husband, Mr. Taylor. Let us say hello." A childhood friend, Lucy stood in the crowd ahead of them with her husband as the music swirled. They were just behind her when Lucy leaned to say something to her husband. He raised a bored hand to silence her. "Do stop prattling," he admonished her.
Elizabeth and Charlotte both observed the slight. "I will take a cigar outside," Mr. Taylor said to his wife and turned on his heel and left her staring after him. Charlotte met Elizabeth's eyes in unspoken concern.
This is his behavior towards his new wife? Elizabeth did not say it. Lucy turned and spotted Elizabeth and her thin lips turned up in a tentative smile.
"Lucy, you have returned from your honeymoon," Elizabeth said, trying to sound brighter than she felt.
Lucy blinked away her disappointment. "I have, thank you. Mr. Taylor has stepped outside."
Elizabeth nodded sympathetically. "Shall we get some lemonade?"
Lucy smiled again and the three made their way to the refreshment table.
"When did you return?" Charlotte asked Lucy.
"We have been back a fortnight," Lucy replied and sipped lemonade.
Elizabeth wondered what simple question she could ask Lucy that did not require her to opine about the new marriage
"Your honeymoon was pleasant?" Charlotte asked.
Lucy's expression changed every so-briefly, like a candle flicker, and for a moment, Elizabeth saw dread in her eyes. But then she recovered and smiled politely. "It was lovely."
Elizabeth was unconvinced, but she said nothing and sipped her lemonade. Mrs. Bennet approached them and smiled widely at Lucy. "Lizzy, do hand me a glass of lemonade. Mrs. Taylor! You're looking quite well. Allow me to congratulate you on the happy nuptials. Don't these social events feel less important now that you're a married lady?"
Lucy smiled shyly but did not speak, which suited Mrs. Bennet because she did not pause to listen. "I do well remember being newlywed," Mrs. Bennet said with a beam of self-satisfaction. Elizabeth silently wished for her mother to be quiet, but knew it would take an act of nature now to silence her mother. "You have made a beautiful young bride," Mrs. Bennet continued. "If only my daughters might make such a catch."
Elizabeth fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Mama, Mrs. Taylor seems uncomfortable. Charlotte and I will walk her to the patio for some air. Come along now," Elizabeth grasped Mrs. Taylor's arm and pulled her in the direction of the patio off the main hall.
"I am sorry. My mother will talk herself hoarse if given the chance at these events," Elizabeth said.
Out on the patio, the evening air was cooler. Two men smoked cigars near a tall potted palm in one corner, and so the women retreated to the other side.
"Thank you," Mrs. Taylor said and Elizabeth noticed tears filling the young woman's eyes. Charlotte inhaled the brisk evening air.
"My dear, you are crying!" Charlotte said. "Whatever is wrong?"
Mrs. Taylor tried to smile and wiped at her tears. "It is nothing. I am being silly."
"Nonsense, Lucy. You are unwell,"
"Do you have a headache?" Charlotte asked.
"It is just…" she paused, her lip quivered. "Married life is very different than I expected."
"Of course, it is," Elizabeth touched the girl's hand. "It must be a dramatic change."
"Yes, only…" Lucy Taylor sniffled. "I find Mr. Taylor is cross with me often. It is most discouraging."
Elizabeth sucked in her breath quietly. She had heard rumors Mr. Taylor had a temper, and her heart hurt for her friend. "I am sure you are both adjusting."
"I did not know I would irritate him so much. I always thought I was an amenable companion."
"Of course you are," Charlotte said, glancing at Elizabeth.
"I must try harder to please my new husband," Lucy said and bit her lip.
"I'm sure you are doing very well. It may simply take time," Elizabeth said, but her words were hardly a comfort. She could not imagine an agony worse than having second thoughts so quickly after one's wedding. Lucy was a sensible girl, and not one to easily antagonize nor irritate others easily. "Your marriage will improve, I am certain of it. My own parents are very differently inclined, but they seem to have found an equanimity," Elizabeth said, knowing she was stretching the truth.
After a few more minutes, the men tapped out their foul-smelling cigars and returned to the hall. Lucy wiped at her eyes and apologized for her show of emotion. The three of them leaned against the banister near the palm.
"Nonsense," Elizabeth said cheerfully. She stepped back and glanced around. Just then, from between the fronds of the potted palm, a dark-cuffed hand extended, holding a neatly folded handkerchief. Elizabeth nearly leapt back.
"Sorry to startle you, but the kerchief is meant for the young lady. I do not wish to further her embarrassment by being seen," a low baritone voice said.
Elizabeth peered through the fronds and saw the unreadable dark eyes of the new stranger behind the palm. It was the man who had entered the hall several minutes earlier with a quizzical brow.
He was speaking to her, and they had not been introduced.
Elizabeth pursed her lips with irritation as she quickly took the folded cloth before her companions might see. He had no business listening to their conversation. And they had not been properly introduced. But, she admitted, it was a kind impulse.
With a final concerned glance, Elizabeth turned and handed the cloth to Lucy, steering her and Charlotte away. She wished to give him a chance to escape without the others seeing him. Perhaps they would not have to speak at all.