Darcy stood by one of the many alcoved windows and stared moodily at the activity beyond his place of temporary refuge. It was another interminable party, this one a casual affair but an over-crowded one. Here within the limited society of a small community on an isolated planet it seemed that an invitation must have gone out to everyone and been accepted by all.
And what else do these simpletons have to do for fun? Darcy grunted at the thought and tried to regain his professional frame of mind. It was not for him to judge, but rather for him to observe with as little prejudice as possible.
In order to distract himself, he scanned the crowd beyond him. There was precious little to see: a sea of unfamiliar faces in the familiar formal dress of the universe over. The men all wore black trousers and black coats with white shirts and perhaps a bit of white showing at their breast pocket. The women were scarcely any more interesting to look at with their uniformly full-length black dresses. Their conversation, he knew, would be as unvaried as their appearance. Not worth the time or the effort to get out there and speak to anyone. There would be more than enough time enough for that later so why exert himself tonight?
He watched a little longer, idly, toying the with the glass of execrable wine he held in one hand, alternating between watching its fascinating swirl of crimson liquid against the golden tinged hue of the goblet and the parade of faces beyond. He should move to another post in the room. Surely he had lingered at this one too long.
With a heavy sigh, he launched himself away from the wall, moving aimlessly but purposefully avoiding eye contact with the smiling people who came across his path. Especially, dear God, the middle aged women and their bright-eyed daughters. As he sidestepped another such pair who were obviously intending to waylay him, he thought, "Perhaps I ought to kill Bingley for getting me into this."
The thought of his associate made Darcy glance around, wondering where the other man might be. Doubtless wherever all the prettiest ladies in the room were gathered. Bingley was, as of yet, still too new to the position he held to be wary of casually falling into intimate friendship with those around him. That, coupled with his extroverted personality, was a dangerous thing, and would prove painful at the least for his young friend. Painful at the least and a loss of his career at the most. Raising his glass in bitter salute at the thought, Darcy gave up looking for Bingley and turned instead towards finding a new patch of wall to lean unobtrusively against.
Sanctuary came in the form of a large potted plant whose wide leaves looked capable of at least partially shielding him from view. It would be enough to send the message that he had no interest in interacting with anyone at least. He took up his station, took another sip of the awful wine and considered draining the rest into the plant if only to keep himself from drinking any more. Only the stray thought that the sickening spirit might kill the plant altogether and the concern that someone might see him do it kept him from the act.
Sighing quietly to himself, he continued his interrupted surveillance of the room. He had just been starting to think that his mind would seriously begin to rot from the sheer tedium of the evening when a flash of red caught his eye. He could not say, immediately, why it should have grabbed his wandering attention so completely. It was probably only another glass of wine, winking in the lights and blissful in the silken glass that encased it.
But, no. It was a woman. To be more accurate, it was a length of red ribbon, woven artfully through a mass of lustrous black hair. Surprising, unexpected, but hardly worth commenting on. Probably a young girl who thought herself rebellious for wearing such a bold splash of color in a setting where all others would be colorless. But Darcy watched nevertheless, taking in an imperfect view of the back of her. She was slender and petite, but that was all he could tell. Bored again, his eyes wandered.
There was nothing to see in any direction he looked and the brightness of the lights, the noise of the incoherent babble around him and the pointlessness of the situation began to grate on him in earnest. Perhaps he should find Bingley and tell him that it was time to go. There would be plenty of time to visit with these people in the future, to get to know their lifestyle and their culture. It wouldn't take long and then they could move on, Bingley to wherever he decided to go and Darcy to some place more to his taste. Some place more refined.
As though conjured by these thoughts, Bingley appeared from the sea of people, his normal smile plastered across his face and magnified ten fold. "Darcy!" he greeted his associate and mentor jovially. "What are you doing standing around like a wallflower? There are so many interesting people here and I have yet to see you speak to any of them!"
Just managing to keep himself from rolling his eyes at Bingley's enthusiasm, Darcy questioned dryly, "Who is she?"
Impossible as it seemed, Bingley's grin became even wider. "Her name is Jaina," he enthused. "So delightful and so charming. Easily the sweetest girl I have ever had the pleasure of speaking with. She's from one of the more prominent families of the area, too." Bingley added this last complacently, knowing that Darcy would understand the full impact of the statement.
"Prominent?" Darcy echoed sardonically. "Just how prominent are we talking here?"
"Descended from one of the first families to settle here," Bingley replied with cheerful promptness. "I've met two of her sisters as well as her mother. We're invited to drop by any time, of course."
Before Darcy had any time to respond to any of these revelations, Bingley continued on in his upbeat, half-irritating fashion. "You might enjoy talking to Jaina's sister. I could introduce you."
"Oh, but which one? You said she has two."
"Did I? No. I only said I had met two of them. There are actually four – sisters I mean. Jaina is the eldest of the five."
"Bingley," Darcy began, tiredly running a hand through his hair. "I am quite certain I already know all there is to know of these people based on the scant information you've given me. There is no reason for me to talk to any of them. In fact, I believe I will leave you to that dubious pleasure and take myself back to the manor for the much more preferable company of a good book and an hour of silence."
"Suit yourself," Bingley said, unruffled and unconcerned as always. "I'll just stay here and talk to some more people. And tomorrow I can fill you in on everything I've gleaned."
"Ha," Darcy mocked, deciding on the instant to go ahead and empty the contents of his glass into the pot of soil next to him. "There will be nothing you can tell me that I cannot have already deduced from the barbarous past two and a half hours I have endured in this wretched and backwards company. In fact, let me spare you the effort now so that you may luxuriate in the smiles and conversation of this Jane creature-"
"Jaina," Bingley interposed.
"-that you seem so besotted with," Darcy concluded, waving a hand in airy dismissal of being reminded of her name.
"What you have here," he pursued, speaking with as much animation as he could muster due to the growing headache and mounting frustration he felt, "is a collection of nobodies descended from a long line of nobodies. Granted, there is an assortment of Rank Two or Three citizens here, but you know as well as I do that they are accorded that status only because they were able to endure the wretchedness of civilizing another planet and not because they were born and bred to it. As a result, their manners are atrocious, their minds narrow and their information uninformed. We will glean nothing of import to the rest of our society from being here, nothing that deserves to be recorded in our collective history."
For once, Bingley's smile was absent, replaced by a look of concern. "I cannot agree you there!" he exclaimed warmly. "Not a bit of it. Or have you forgotten where I have come from?"
Darcy did remember, but too late. He closed his eyes, briefly shutting out Bingley's momentarily dampened expression. "I am tired," he said by way of apology. "I should go."
"Of course," Bingley murmured, stepping aside so that Darcy's path might be wholly unobstructed.
As Darcy made to leave he caught sight of that flash of crimson set against glossy black. The girl with the ribbons in her hair was looking at him – glaring at him, really – unabashedly. With a mental wince, Darcy realized that she must have heard him.
"Bingley," he said, catching briefly at his friend's arm although he had made no move to leave. "Who is that girl?"
Bingley looked where Darcy's gaze was directed. "Oh," he said, and that note of carelessness was back in his voice. "That's Jaina's sister. Elsa."
Rather earlier that day, Elsa Bennett had been quietly and intensely absorbed in the most recent news she had come across in her daily browsing of the news provided via the satellite UpLink system. She read with equal interest the reports of a famine on a world called Ramsgate and the measures being taken by the Confederate Government to speed aid to the people who lived there and a short article on a recently discovered planet that was named Oceana on account of it having only a single landmass, uninhabitable but beautifully dwarfed by the endless amount of water that surrounded it.
Whether or not there was any other news worthy of reading that day, Elsa would never know. Cait and Lyra, her two youngest sisters, chose that moment to come tumbling into the room, their dark eyes alight with pleasure.
"Elsa!" Lyra exclaimed, always the more boisterous of the two. "Have you heard the news?"
Knowing perfectly well what sort of information her sister considered to be newsworthy, Elsa blinked back at her sister and replied gravely, "Unless you are about to tell me of the plight of the inhabitants of Ramsgate, no, I have not."
"Where?" Lyra inquired, plowing on without waiting for an answer. "Oh, you're no fun. You probably won't even be interested to know. But Cait and I were visiting Phillipa, you know, our friend, and she said that there were two Historians coming to visit here. Or perhaps it was one Historian and a friend, but in any event, the friend is a man, as is the Historian, so perhaps it is possible that he is single. Wouldn't that be lovely? They are both invited to the gathering this evening and have promised to attend."
"Well," Elsa said, amused. "I can hardly see what the benefit of having a visit from a single male friend of an Historian can be to us, but I suppose you must have some reason for your elation?"
"Oh!" Lyra scoffed, trading a scornful glance with Cait. "Why are you always so sarcastic, Elsa? You know as well as anyone that Historians are enormously wealthy and I couldn't have been speaking about his friend. Unless it is true that both of them are Historians," she added meditatively. "That would be something, wouldn't it? Cait could have one and I might have the other!"
Now Elsa did laugh outright. "Perhaps before you plan on marrying either or both of these men you might want to make sure they exist and are good sorts of people?"
"Hmph," Lyra rejoined. "I can't see why you feel the need to make fun of me. Most girls dream of exactly the same thing and there's no reason for me not to do so!"
Elsa shook her head. "Perhaps you had better take your news to a more receptive audience," she suggested. "Have you told Marie or Mother?
Lyra's eyes widened. "I must go tell Mother! I know she will understand the excitement of it all." On that note, she flounced out of the room, followed in similar manner by her elder sister who, despite being two years older than Lyra, was nevertheless disposed to do exactly as Lyra did.
Still shaking her head, Elsa grinned and went in search of Jaina, certain that as soon as their mother heard the joyful news Lyra had to impart the house would be turned upside-down for the remainder of the day so that each of the six ladies who resided therein might be at her most beautiful for the gathering that night.
"After all," Elsa had concluded to Jaina once she had gotten her safely out of doors and beyond the reach of even the most determined shrieks from their mother, "how else are we to ever marry well if we do not take care to look our best for a pair of strangers who may or may not be wealthy and important citizens?"
"Oh, Elsa," Jaina had laughingly responded. "It is not so terrible. Besides, you know that Mother would have us look our best even if we were not expecting someone new to the planet. It surely won't be as bad as you say."
"If you like to believe so, you may," Elsa replied. "But let us not go back to the house just yet on the off chance that I am right. It is still-" she checked her watch "- nearly four hours before the gathering is supposed to start. No matter what Mother says, I am certain neither you nor I need such a large amount of time to prepare for such an ordinary event. And you need even less help than I do!"
"Elsa," Jaina laughed, partly against her will. "You know our Mother isn't so-"
"Bad? Awful? Demented?" Elsa provided words when her kindhearted and dutiful sister could not seem to finish the sentence. "She is. All three. But I love her just the same." And, linking her arm casually through her sister's, she proceeded to keep both of them safely away from the mayhem in the house for the next half hour at least.
The gathering, despite having the addition of two confirmed Historians present, was not much different than any other such social event held on the planet of Longbourn in the capital city of Meryton. Elsa, although fascinated by their work, would not have dreamed of being forward enough to either introduce herself or to pepper them with questions if she were to meet them. So she watched them out of the corner of her eyes and was deeply amused by the one's efforts to make himself agreeable to everyone and the other's efforts to avoid even speaking to anyone, but particularly the women who clearly had matrimony on their minds.
Only an hour or two into the night's festivities which included, among other things, local wine, music and purported delicacies, Elsa was hailed by her mother, who stood nearly halfway across the crowded room but let that be no obstacle in beckoning her second daughter to her side.
Stifling a sigh and exchanging a brief smile with her friend, Kayla Lucas, Elsa made her way over to her mother's side where she was introduced to Mr. Bingley, the pleasanter of the two Historians. For his part, Mr. Bingley greeted her nicely enough but it was clear that he had eyes only for Jaina, with whom he had already been conversing for some time.
Making no attempt to hide her amusement over his obvious infatuation with Jaina's striking good looks, Elsa welcomed him warmly before asking at least one of the questions she had for him.
"How long do you and your associate plan on staying on Longbourn, Mr. Bingley?"
"That is unclear just at present, Ms. Bennett," Mr. Bingley answered formally, tearing his eyes away from Jaina who looked on with a smile that could only be described as sweet. "This is the first time I have been able to choose our destination and Darcy – my associate – wants my continued training to cover everything about every aspect of our job. I suppose the length of our stay will depend greatly on how much I am learning from the experience."
"So you are fairly new to the profession?" Elsa asked, unable to resist the opening to learn more about a lifestyle that had always fascinated her. "Do you enjoy it very much?"
Bingley's answering smile was brilliant and he seemed not at all put out at hearing the question. "I have been in training for several years now of course. But there is always something new to learn and Darcy is a great teacher and friend. In addition, I find I love always going somewhere new and being able to meet new and interesting people."
Elsa could not help but notice that Bingley's eyes slid towards Jaina again as he made his last comment and so she laughingly welcomed him again to Longbourn, expressed a wish of speaking to him again at some other time and murmured an unheard excuse about needing to fetch herself something to drink before sidling away and leaving Bingley to bask in Jaina's presence.
At the bar, Elsa waited patiently for her drink – a simple glass of water since the warmth of the room made the thought of alcohol distasteful – and eyed the pair from across the room. Mr. Bingley was a pleasant looking sort of man, not handsome exactly, but with such friendly and open features that it was hard to think ill of his appearance. Other than his blinding and perfectly genuine smile, his most striking features were his eyes, a beautiful silver-grey that on anyone less unassuming Elsa would have guessed to have been enhanced.
Taking in the sight of those eyes staring with such helpless adoration at Jaina, Elsa could not help but grin and envision what beautiful children the pair could produce together. Petite and ethereal with lustrous chestnut hair and perfectly formed features, Jaina was all that was lovely. Still, Elsa reminded herself abruptly, it wouldn't do for Jaina to get too enamored of the Historian. While those who had been serving in the profession for some time occasionally married and left their prestigious careers behind, it was unimaginable that someone as new to the field as Mr. Bingley was would quit before he had properly started.
Making a mental note to gently remind Jaina of that fact, Elsa was finally able to collect her drink and ease herself back into the crush of people. This she did with ease, for she knew everyone from every family of station in Meryton and was generally a great favorite despite being from one of the two highest ranking families on the planet.
As she circulated through the throngs of people, Elsa found herself standing quite near to the only person in the whole room who remained a stranger to her. It was the other Historian, to whom no one had been able to successfully introduce themselves and who had spent the whole of the evening moving from point to point without looking at or speaking to anyone.
She chatted with Jayson Lucas in a desultory fashion, only half listening to his side of the conversation which mainly revolved around a new sort of spacecraft technology. At any other time Elsa would have been interested enough about it to question him closely on what he had learned, but she found herself irresistibly drawn to study the other Historian.
Popular opinion around the room had already branded the man as proud, rude and a host of other uncomplimentary things. This was, Elsa knew, a major shift from the attitude that had prevailed before he had shown up. Everyone had been perfectly ready to adore him, his assumed wealth and his inherent prestige.
Looking at him now, Elsa had to admit that he was undeniably handsome, or would have been if not for the perpetual look of disdain stamped across his face. Paying no attention at all to Jayson any more, Elsa watched as Mr. Bingley came and addressed his associate and friend. A smile flickered across Mr. Darcy's face once and despite its clearly sardonic origin, Elsa all but caught her breath at the sight.
Almost against her own volition she listened as Mr. Bingley entreated the other Historian to make some effort to speak to some of the other people in the room. When Mr. Darcy spoke, Elsa found herself immediately caught by his voice which was a vibrant instrument all on its own, capable of making even the most mundane words seem fresh and pregnant with new meaning.
Still, when her mind finally registered the words that she was hearing, all her favorable impressions of him instantly vanished.
"…a collection of nobodies descended from a long line of nobodies. Granted, there is an assortment of Rank Two or Three citizens here, but you know as well as I do that they are accorded that status only because they were able to endure the wretchedness of civilizing another planet and not because they were born and bred to it. As a result, their manners are atrocious, their minds narrow and their information uninformed. We will glean nothing of import to the rest of our society from being here, nothing that deserves to be recorded in our collective history."
Stunned at hearing the lives and accomplishments of an entire planet so carelessly maligned and then tossed aside, Elsa glared in fury at the pompous Historian. While it was true that Elsa's own citizenship – that of a Rank Two level – had been earned by her forefathers due to the hardships they had undergone in order to win mastery over Longbourn and carve out lives for themselves and Ranks for their families, she had never before been made to feel anything but pride over her ancestry. To have a stranger degrade not only her family's current position in society in the Confederate but to demean the course by which they got there was almost beyond her capacity to bear in silence.
In the end, he looked up and caught her glaring at him. She refused to lower her eyes or look embarrassed at having been caught reacting to his words, wanting him to know that she had heard and was rightly incensed. His face betrayed realization that she must have overheard his remarks, but no hint of shame or apology followed. Instead, he caught at Bingley's arm and said something too low to hear. Bingley looked her way briefly, smiled just a bit wider, and then turned back.
"That's Jaina's sister," Bingley said, apparently answering whatever his friend had asked. "Elsa."
Darcy nodded briefly in reply and then, without sparing even another glance in Elsa's direction, stalked straight past her and everyone else assembled there and left.
Author's Note: This is something that I've had in mind for some time and honestly have no business writing since I have another FanFic in progress as well as a book. Still, one must do what the muse demands, and so here is the first chapter. To anyone who reads and likes this, I must warn against expecting anything approaching rapid updates, but I will do what I can. There are many re-tellings of this most romantic of all stories and I only hope I can do my version justice.
Many thanks to Sharon Shinn, who will never read this or anything else I write, but who inspired me with her re-telling of 'Jane Eyre' in her novel 'Jenna Starborn.' I admit I borrowed the foundation of my caste-centric society from her and feel nothing but the deepest appreciation for all the wonderful stories she tells in all the books she has written and published.