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The Cooking Sherry
December 2005 (200 words)
Mrs Reynolds always promised the Master faithfully that she would stay away from the cooking sherry, but she was having a bad day. The chickens had escaped into the vegetable patch, and she needed a little fortification to get through the rest of the afternoon.
Later when she was showing a couple around the house with their niece, they expressed an interest in the miniatures in the old Master's study. When they pointed out George Wickham, she could not help but add her opinions. "He is now gone into the army, but I am afraid he has turned out very wild." She paused for dramatic effect - and to refocus her eyes.
"He lies, cheats, whores, spends his days gambling, he lays with young maidens and leaves them with child, he runs up debts with all his acquaintances and is shunned by all polite society." The young woman looked incredulous but Mrs Reynolds continued unabated until she had exhausted all her poor opinions of him.
With much astonishment, Mrs Gardiner turned to Elizabeth and said "Perhaps we might have been deceived about Wickham's character?"
Elizabeth watched the housekeeper weaving across the room and added, "Or perhaps it's just the sherry talking."
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The early present
December 2005 (200 words)
"Christmas Eve … finally!" After all the waiting, the day had finally arrived.
She had prepared carefully, for weeks in advance, and now everything was in place to give Mr. Darcy a present he would never forget. The tangerine silk, ribbons and feathers had been ordered from Town particularly for the occasion, as she knew how partial he was to that colour. This evening, her maid had been suitably bribed to keep his valet occupied for the night.
It was an easy task to enter his chamber unobserved, and as she stepped through the door she inhaled the masculine scents of sandalwood and leather that pervaded the room.
She took her time and prepared herself carefully; bare except for the sheerest covering draped across her body, a bow around her neck, and the feathers in her hair. Jumping onto the bed, she reclined into what she hoped would be an alluring pose, and awaited his entrance.
Much later that evening, Mr. Darcy entered to find his 'present' snoring quietly on his bed. With a sigh, he turned around quickly and left the room before she woke.
He would have to fetch Mr. Hurst to retrieve his wife. What a Christmas Present!
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Lydia's accomplishment
December 2005 (200 words)
Darcy was fraught with concern for Elizabeth. Her despair, witnessed at Lambton, had almost rent his heart in two. He had to find Lydia Bennet and that swine Wickham. Soon!
He waited patiently in the hallway for Mrs Younge's attention. If anyone knew how to find Wickham in the rabbit-warrens of London, then she could.
"How can I help you, Mr. Darcy?" she asked with aplomb. Darcy kept his composure while he explained the circumstances of Wickham's treachery. She nodded and indicated him to follow.
Darcy felt particularly uncomfortable as he trailed through the maze of corridors, furnished in expensive silks and velvets. "I believe, sir, that you will find the answers you seek in here." She showed him through the door into a comfortably furnished room, where young men lounged, bare-chested and bored.
"Molly dear! Have you bought us another specimen to tempt our clients?" Lydia enquired of Mrs Younge from the corner of the room.
"No, Lydia. Mr Darcy comes to make sure you are safe."
"I am quite safe, as you can see," she responded with a naughty chuckle.
"And Mr Wickham?"
"He is a popular gentleman. He finds himself currently tied up … with Lady Carmichael."
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Dangerous Game
January 2006 (200 words)
She was cold … so cold. Although wrapped up against the chill, she still shivered uncontrollably. The weak winter sun shone on the glistening white of the snow and almost blinded her.
He had been ruthless with her, refusing to take no for an answer, and she now stood in fear of her very life. She balanced on the edge between safety and disaster, knowing that one false move would be her downfall.
Cruelly taunting her, he urged her on, further and further out that she had ever thought possible. Her pleas had fallen on deaf ears; her begging had gone unheeded. He had only laughed at her tears.
Finally, the event she so dreaded had occurred, and she fell down and down until she could fall no further. She landed with an unceremonious bump on her behind, her skirts flying up in the air.
Georgiana saw her fall and skated over from the other side of the lake to try and pull Elizabeth up. Darcy was also at her side within moments, now solicitous to his wife's feelings. "I told you I could not skate!" she chided her husband, as he silently folded his gentle arms around her shivering shoulders.
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In Loving Memory
January 2006 (200 words)
She sat quietly in the corner of the room, facing the window. Her eyes roamed through the distant landscape where she was no longer able to walk. When I got close, I spoke her name softly and she turned in my direction.
Since my last visit, her hair had changed. It was almost all white now, and pulled backwards in a severe knot. Her skin crinkled as she smiled at me, but those deep brown eyes still held the spark I remembered from my childhood. She would always be beautiful to me.
I squatted down by her side, and she cupped her small, frail hand to my cheek. I watched closely as those expressive eyes scanned my features, and I swear that I saw the spark of grief deep within them as her most painful memories resurfaced. A single tear welled in her eye, and ran unnoticed down her careworn face. She was pleased to see me — I knew that — but I had also known that my visit was going to cause sadness.
"Ah, Fitzwilliam. You remind me so much of your dear Grandfather."
"Yes, Grandmother. I know." That was why it had been seven years since my last visit.
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Lady in Orange
January 2006 (200 words)
She danced across the ballroom, her head erect, her chin held high. There was something in her air and manner, which showed her to be a woman of fashionable tastes.
He followed her around like a puppy-dog, agreeing with her pronouncements, and complimenting her on her witticisms. He could not imagine a more perfect beauty, and he told her so … frequently.
"Does Mr. Smith require spectacles?"
"I do not think so."
"Is there any insanity in his family, Bingley?"
"Not that I am aware of."
"Is he, perhaps, colour-blind?"
"My sister is wearing quite a lot of orange tonight, is she not, Darcy?"
"Does she think the colour suits her?"
"Yes, I believe she does," Bingley replied with a wide smile.
The two men stood in a companionable silence, watching Miss Bingley and Mr Smith as they danced together. Darcy was, for once, content that his nemesis had chosen a new target for tonight's entertainment, although he could not comprehend what so attracted Mr Smith.
"Bingley … I know she is your sister, so forgive my impertinence, but what does he see in her?"
"Well, you know what they say, Darcy. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder!"
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What Annie heard
February 2006 (200 words)
The servant's hall at Netherfield was agitated over the gossip brought down by one of the housemaids, Annie Smith.
"An' what did he say next?"
"Ah … it were something like 'I do not consider that to be an appropriate suggestion under the circumstances, Miss Bingley' "
"What did she say then?"
"She just laughed, you know, that cackle she 'as when she think's she's been funny."
"What did he do?" asked young Lucy, the scullery maid.
"Well," replied Annie, glancing around nervously, "he sounded a bit offended..."
Harold, who had brought some vegetables for the cook, interrupted them. "Hmph, that miserable blighter was born offended,"
"Then he moved to stare out the window," Annie continued, "you know, like he always does."
"He don't seem the type to take a fancy to Miss Bingley, no matter what she promises 'im."
"Well she certainly promised him all sorts this morning. From what I heard she all but threw 'erself at 'im," said Annie.
Lucy laughed. "That's not all she did, neither. The other day, when Thomas was serving the dinner, he saw her running 'er bare foot against 'is leg!"
"If you think that's bad, it's nothin' compared to what the butler saw!"
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You can't get the help
February 2006 (200 words)
"Mary? What's all that shouting in the parlour?"
"Shhh! It's Mr Darcy. He's speaking to Miss Bennet. They're alone together in there!"
"Oooh! What did he just say?"
"Something about his misfortunes. He doesn't sound very happy." The two girls stood closer to the parlour door, hoping to hear more. "Did you hear that?"
"I think so. Did he say he rejoiced in the inferiority of her connections? I couldn't quite tell"
"Now she's complaining about his not behaving like a gentleman!"
"It sounds like she is refusing something. Do you think he wants her to be his mistress?"
"Sally! No! How could you say such a thing?"
Sally, who was standing closest to the door, put her hand to her mouth in shock. "No! He wasn't asking her to be his mistress, but his wife!"
"Ah, that's nice. And what did she say?"
"That he was the last man in the world that she would marry!"
The door opened violently and Mr Darcy stepped out. He stared coldly at the two servants for a brief moment before leaving, the fury on his face unmistakable.
"I think I should get Miss Bennet a glass of wine. What do you think?"
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What the butler saw
February 2006 (100 words)
Dusk was approaching and the light in the room was fading. His hand ran sensuously down her back, as his soft lips pressed gentle kisses down her neck and along her bare shoulder.
She smiled, and whispered softly into his ear. His low chuckle delighted her and she grasped his chin and pulled him into a kiss. Her hands moved up his chest and onto his shoulders, holding on to him as if her life depended on it.
The couple appeared so happy.
Mr. Reynolds, Pemberley's usually imperturbable butler, grinned as he backed slowly and quietly out of the room
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The man who has everything
February 2006 (200 words)
"Happy Valentine's day, Elizabeth," he whispered, as she woke in his arms.
"Oh, Fitzwilliam. It is lovely!" his wife exclaimed. The heart shaped pendant, encrusted with a cluster of rubies, dangled on a gold chain in front of her face. "Thank you!"
He leaned down to claim his own gift. The heat of their passion left them both breathless, but, once Elizabeth had recovered, she raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Fitzwilliam, you know I love you, but I do not need these expensive gifts. I already have my hearts desire."
"Can a husband not give a gift to the woman he loves?"
"Yes, of course. But on St Andrew's day, you gave the sapphire and diamond brooch. On St Stephen's day, it was an emerald ring. Two weeks ago you bought that beautiful silk chemise - to celebrate the cat in the stables having her kittens. But what can I give the man who has everything?"
"There is only one gift, my love. Something I would cherish with all my heart, for the rest of my life."
"Name it. Anything."
"A … a baby?"
"There is nothing so easy, my love. You may even receive your gift in time for St Bartholomew's day!"
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But me no buts
February 2006 (100 words)
"I love you …"
"But …?"
"There is no 'but'; I have no doubts. I love you ... ardently."
"But what of my family?"
"I care nothing for your family; I care for you ... passionately."
"What about my poor connections?"
"I have no need for connections; I need you ... desperately."
"But these things were important to you in Kent."
"There is only one thing which is important to me now and that is you. Please, if your feelings are what they were then, tell me so at once."
"My feelings? They are completely changed; my heart is yours."
"I will cherish it … forever."
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The Journal
(Northanger Abbey)
February 2006 (200 words)
It seems so strange to be writing these thoughts in a journal, but after the conversation today, I made a point of stopping off at the nearest Stationers on our way home and purchasing this one.
I was greatly relieved to be introduced to such an agreeable gentleman at last. He is so tall, and if not quite handsome, then he is very near to it. He has a lively eye, his dancing is light and elegant, and I found his wit and charm most distracting.
What was it he said I should write about him? I can hardly remember. Oh yes! That he was an extraordinary genius, and I should hope I may know more of him! Does he wish to know more of me? Could he, one day, be choosing my gowns and purchasing my muslin; perhaps with his sister?
I am looking forward to meeting him again; I suspect he will tease me about my silent meditations this afternoon, although I could hardly explain my thoughts to him after so short an acquaintance!
Writing in a journal was such a wonderful idea; I must congratulate him on his suggestion. I wonder if I shall see him tomorrow?
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There can be no other
(Emma)
February 2006 (200 words)
She sank down into her pillows; drained from the wracking cough which clearly signalled the end of her life. "My dear, I do not think I will see tomorrow."
He frowned. "Please, my sweet one. Do not talk that way. You will see many more tomorrows."
"I worry how the girls will cope as they grow older. I know that …"
"Yes," he interrupted, "she is becoming a fine young lady."
"And little …"
He stopped her words, holding up his hand. "She is still young, and will recover from her loss in time. I will not let her forget you."
"Take care of the girls for me; please promise you will. Find them another mother to love and care for them."
"You know that there will be no other. I waited too long before I married you. I regret that now. How much more time could we have had together?"
"Please. You must remarry; for the sake of our daughters."
He sighed deeply in resignation at the futility of ignoring the obvious. "I cannot replace you, love. The girls and I will get by. I will hire a governess for them. They will not want for anything … except, perhaps, your company."
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The Surprise Visitor
March 2006 (200 words)
Mr. Bennet considered himself an excellent judge of character, but he was in for a surprise when the anticipated visitor arrived at Longbourn.
"Mr. Collins, at your service," the visitor replied, in a deep, sultry voice.
The Bennet daughters all reacted slightly differently when they were introduced to their cousin. Jane blushed prettily, and Mr. Bingley was quickly forgotten. Mary averted her eyes and returned them to the pages of Fordyce, although her thoughts were in a totally different place.
Kitty and Lydia almost came to blows over the right to be the first to greet him, but a tiny lift of his right brow brought them to submission, and they were silent.
Elizabeth was astounded by the tall, handsome gentleman who stood before her. His piercing green eyes were deep enough to drown in. His elegant black coat fitted snugly across his broad shoulders and his tight leather breeches showed the excellent musculature of his thighs and … well, other places.
He made it clearly understood that he hoped to chose a wife from the ladies of Longbourn. The Bennet sisters went to sleep that night with highly inappropriate thoughts of their cousin … and dark, violent thoughts towards their sisters.
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The Wedding Anniversary
April 2006 (200 words)
~ Regent's Park, London: 1832 ~
Their coach pulled up on Cambridge Terrace, just outside the iron railings. They strolled casually under the grand Doric portico to enter the Colosseum itself.
"Which would you like to see first? The hall of mirrors, perhaps, or the aviary or saloon of art?"
"Oh, Fitzwilliam, can we not see the panorama first? I am so looking forward to it." Her husband smiled indulgently, and led the way down the hall.
After paying the admission, they were soon ushered into a small square room situated within the central column, large enough to accommodate up to twelve people. Elizabeth gasped in shock as the room started to move upwards, and she grabbed onto her husband's arm for support as they ascended. After some minutes, the movement stopped and the door opened to allow them access to the viewing platforms, situated 120 ft from the ground.
Looking over the gallery rail, they were both entranced by the wonderful scenes surrounding them, showing the views of London as seen from the top of St Paul's Cathedral.
"Oh, it is beautiful!" Elizabeth murmured, captivated by the scene.
Darcy gazed adoringly at his wife of twenty years. "Yes, my love, I completely agree … you are."
The Colosseum in 1827
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Punch Drunk
April 2006 (200 words)
Nobody ever found out who spiked the punch at the Meryton Assembly, but its potency had long-lasting consequences.
"She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me … hic."
The lady under discussion staggered towards the proud visitor who was disparaging her, and grabbed his arm for support.
"I beg your pardon, Sir, for not being tol...er…able enough. If you took the time to learn my character, I believe I could tempt you quite well," she responded coquettishly, jabbing her finger into his broad chest for emphasis.
"My apologies, Madam," he replied with as much aplomb as he could muster as he swayed dangerously towards her. "I am afraid I am ill qualified to recommmmmmend myself to strangers."
"Perhaps you just need practice? My fingers do not play the piano as well as I would like …" she ran her fingers up over his arm and around the back of his neck, "but that is my own fault, as I do not take the trouble to practice." She punctuated her sentence with a kiss on his lips, as he caught her in a wild embrace.
Mrs Bennet stood in the corner; a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
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Assult on the senses
April 2006 (200 words)
They were in the garden at Netherfield. He marvelled at the way the breeze made the pink ribbons on her bonnet dance and sway around her shoulders. Moving purposely towards her, until she was less than an arms length away, he pulled leisurely at the silky ribbon until the bow unravelled beneath her chin. Removing it gently, he cast the hat away.
Silently, he removed the pins from her neat bun, until the chestnut tresses began to fall across her shoulders. He reached out and ran his fingers longingly through her silken hair, bringing one of the luxurious locks up to his face where he inhaled deeply. Closing his eyes briefly, he could recognise the faint scent of roses.
Bending his head, he savoured her soft lips, which captured his heart and left him breathless. He needed her with him, forever. "I love you," he whispered tenderly.
His ears strained to catch her reply, as his shoulder was firmly shaken.
"Darcy? Wake up! We are almost at Rosings."
He looked indistinctly around the carriage; the dream quickly fading. Dejectedly, he nodded his acknowledgement to Fitzwilliam.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet was many miles away, and he would probably never see her again.
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Age of innocense
April 2006 (100 words)
His sensitive nose buried itself within the soft mass of fibres and he closed his eyes as he inhaled the light scent of roses mixed with something ... slightly less pleasant. Grimacing at the noisome odour, Charles Bingley held out their infant son to his mother.
"Yes, my dear, I agree. His hair is wonderful, but that is not the part of his body which concerns me most at present!"
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A Man of many talents
July 2006 (200 words)
"... At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.''
"I would not be as fastidious as you are for a kingdom! Darcy? I say ... Darcy! Are you listening to me?"
"What? Oh, yes. Well, you are dancing with the only handsome girl in the ... ugh ... sorry? What was I saying?"
"Yes, she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld, but there is one of her sisters sitting down behind you. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."
Darcy stood for some moments in thoughtful silence before turning briefly towards the lady, a pensive expression on his face. "No, Bingley, I think not. I do not believe Miss Elizabeth Bennet would wish to dance with such a proud, disagreeable man as myself. In fact, I can safely say that she may never agree to dance with me."
He was satisfied as he heard a sharp indrawn breath from behind him. Turning again, he caught a flash of fire from a pair of fine eyes. He smiled hopefully. "Well, perhaps not tonight ..."
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Beautiful Dreamer
September 2006 (200 words)
Elizabeth Darcy awoke to find her husband of just three days, propped up on one elbow as he studied her thoughtfully.
"Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?"
Although his tone was light, she could sense that his mood appeared pensive. She smiled at him. "Yes, thank you."
He traced one finger across her shoulder and down the soft skin of her arm before appearing to come to a decision. "Elizabeth, when you lived at Longbourn, I know that your father assisted with your education. Did he teach you any other languages?"
"No, only a little geography and some simple mathematics. Why? Do you plan to whisk me away to some distant land perhaps?"
A small crease flawed his usually serene brow. "Last night, you were talking in your sleep. It sounded just like you were speaking in a foreign tongue."
"Really?" she asked excitedly. "What did I say? Did you recognise any words? Was it French or German? Italian or Spanish? I wish I could have heard it too!"
He smiled, his eyes exposing his deepest feelings. "That is what I love so much about you, Elizabeth. Only my beautiful and talented wife could unknowingly dream in Latin."
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Revenge is sweet
January 2007 (200 words)
The normally reserved Fitzwilliam Darcy held a secret, unknown to his companions at Netherfield. He enjoyed the occasional practical joke.
The undermaids at Pemberley had often been tricked by the innocent face secreting frogs or mice in their apron pockets and his mischevious nature had not been completely surpressed over the years.
Therefore, when Miss Bingley and her sister were overheard disscusing the state of Miss Bennet's petticoat, he felt some reparation was required for their malicious gossip. The lady they spoke of had caught his eye; in fact she attracted him more than he liked. Their rudeness would not go unanswered.
An opportunity arose later that day. A carriage pulled up in front of the portico allowing the Bingley sisters to alight after a shopping trip to Meryton. It had stopped near to a rather large puddle.
As Miss Bingley put her foot on the step, the carriage jolted violently, thowing her face down into into the dark, clinging mud. Darcy peered sheepishly from behind the lead horse which had mysteriously shied for no good reason.
Miss Bingley was no longer in a position to criticise. She now had substantially more than six inches of mud on her petticoat.
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