Chapter Two
April 1938
Meryton, Hertfordshire
'Elizabeth', came the shriek just as she was about to leave the house. 'Elizabeth, come here at once!'
'Sorry Mother', she shouted back, precariously balanced on the top step while she pulled on her right boot. 'I will attend to you when I return, you could wait or better, ask your dear Lyddie for help.'
'You ungrateful child-', Mrs Bennet was abruptly silenced when her (irritated to within an inch of his life) husband threatened to whack her considerable backside with his cane unless she shut her mouth at once and Elizabeth grinned as she sprinted down the driveway, hoping against hope that she was in time for the Crime Club meeting.
The Meryton Crime Club (or MCC as it said on her badge) had been founded by her dearest friend, Charlotte Lucas, who when inspired by Agatha Christie's latest novel and driven to distraction by boredom had called a meeting of her close friends and acquaintances and proceeded to discuss in length, Christie's famous novel 'And then there were none' and thus, was born the Meryton Crime Club. They met each fortnight and discussed a crime novel, unsolved mysteries, famous cases, both local and international, current and old.
Today, there was going to be a lively debate on the true profession of Mata Hari, the famous exotic dancer who had been considered a spy by many and Elizabeth didn't want to be late. She had been holed up in the house for a sennight, nursing her mother after her latest attack of nerves and she had been looking forward to the meeting for days. So, rather than walking, she ran through the Jones' field, jumped over the stile and rammed hard into a man who was walking up the road. They both fell hard onto the tar, Elizabeth on top of the man and she was treated to an elaborate stream of profanity.
'Sir!' Elizabeth exclaimed, as she scrambled to get up and in the process managed to ground the heel of her hand rather hard into the man's stomach.
'Idiot', he groaned as he clutched his stomach. 'Have I the misfortune to encounter the village idiot just as soon as I entered Meryton?'
'I apologize for hurting you', Elizabeth said primly, as she brushed gravel off her skirt. 'But you must beg pardon for calling me an idiot and using all that profane language in my presence.'
'Oh, a lady are you?' the man snorted inelegantly however the effect was lost as he was sprawled at her feet. 'I don't think so, idiot.'
'You rude, rude man!' Elizabeth said, incensed.
'You, idiot, have no leg to stand up', the man said, as he struggled to get on his feet. 'I hardly think jumping over a stile, falling smack on top of a man and then landing a good, hard blow on the stomach on the already injured party constitutes lady like behaviour. I apologize for my profane language on the account of your gender, but an idiot you most certainly are.'
'What is wrong with you?' Elizabeth asked, stumped by his stubborness. 'Are you not capable of chivalry?'
'The question here, ma cherie', he said, as he shook back his hair from his face and revealed a shockingly handsome countenance, 'is that what is wrong with you!'
And with that, he dusted off his coat and walked briskly past her flabbergasted self.
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Despite all her efforts, Elizabeth was late to the meeting and it was a good twenty minutes before she approached the back parlour of the King's Arms, the finest inn in Meryton and the location of their weekly meetings. There was a rather amusing discussion going on, as the laughter and giggles could be heard from the hallway. She entered the room to see a stranger holding court, his back to her.
'And then, a crazy girl jumps off the stile and crash lands on me! Can you believe it? One minute, I am walking on the main road and then this girl just falls on top of me. Like any man caught unawares, I swear profusely and then she has the audacity to elbow me in the stomach as she gets up! Is your village graced by an idiot who jumps on unsuspecting strangers?'
'Oh, Elizabeth!' Charlotte finally noticed the still and rather red figure standing in the doorway. 'You're dreadfully late.'
Everyone turned to look at her and to her chagrin she saw that the stranger regaling them with his experience was none other than the Mr.-Good-Looking-but-rude-as-hell she had encountered some minutes previously. 'Mother held me up', she mumbled and took her seat to sympathetic murmurs of understanding (The news of Mrs. Bennet's 'nerve attack' had spread throughout the village).
'Well, William, we must introduce you to the Vice President of our club', Charlotte said, gaily, addressing the stranger. 'This is Elizabeth Bennet, my best friend and the VP.'
'Miss Elizabeth', he smirked as he leant back in his chair. 'A pleasure to make your acquaintance.'
'Charmed, I'm sure', Elizabeth ground out as she clenched the arms of her chair.
'Elizabeth, this is William Netherfield, our newest member', Charlotte introduced him. 'He works with The Times as a journalist and he is here to cover the exploits of my father in the Great War. I persuaded him to join our shindig in the hopes that the MCC might end up in the papers too.'
'A scheming devil, this one is', William said, grinning. 'I can never refuse her.'
He was rewarded with a sharp smack to his head. 'Well, then everyone, let's begin.'
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'You cannot be serious!' Elizabeth was on the brink of tearing her hair out or landing a punch on her fellow conversationalist's smug countenance. 'You say that a girl given good education and training for a kindergarten teacher ended up as an exotic dancer?'
'I assure you, Miss Elizabeth', William said, his eyes twinkling. 'Many of your background, simple country girls, have been known to take up professions and interests that your innocent mind could not even dream of.'
'She was a spy', Elizabeth said calmly, stabbing her finger into his chest. 'She was a spy masquerading as an exotic dancer. And a simple country girl, I am not.'
'Of course', William agreed. 'The village idiot seems better suited, does it not?'
'I cannot claim myself to be capable of dealing with you', Elizabeth commented. 'You see, I have never encountered such shocking and unrelenting rudeness in my life.'
'You are in no position to reprimand me, Miss Elizabeth', William said gently as he removed her finger from his chest and she blushed hotly. 'You are the model of impropriety, if one goes by societal conventions. I, too, have never encountered a wild woman such as yourself.'
'Oh you annoying pig' Elizabeth shrieked (this barb had hit home) as she got up and her chair fell on the ground with a crash. 'I hope you fall in a ditch and die!'
And then, she left the dead silent room.
'She's a unique one', Charlotte said, blowing smoke rings into the air. 'Unique, our Elizabeth.'
'I agree', William said, amused as he stared her retreating back from the doorway. 'She is completely unique.'
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'Gahh', Elizabeth spat out as she stomped up the stairs.
'Elizabeth!' her mother shouted. 'Elizabeth, come here-'
'Oh spare me, Mother', Elizabeth snarled. 'If you are about to die for the umpteenth time today, I frankly don't give a damn.'
'Lizzie' Jane's soft admonishment floated up the stairs but Elizabeth ignored it and flopped onto her bed, kicking the door shut behind her.
'Odious man', she grumbled into the pillow.
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'Lottie', William called urgently, as he grasped Charlotte's arm. 'I need to use the phone, can you distract your Papa?'
'For you darling, I'd do anything', Charlotte grinned as she pulled him closer by the lapel of his shirt.
'Lottie', William groaned as she pressed against him, 'Go head off your Papa'.
'You're no fun, city boy', Charlotte pouted as she strutted off to do his bidding.
'Damn these country girls', William said as he wiped off his brow. A minute later, he heard Lottie's whistle to confirm that it was safe to phone.
He picked up the receiver.
'Hey, connect me to Richard Fitzwilliam at the War Office, won't you?'
A few harrowing minutes later, in which he was continually on the watch for Sir Lucas, his cousin came on the phone.
'Hi Darce', he greeted.
'Dick', William grinned. 'I found her.'
Hi dearies,
Long time, no see. Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Do tell me your thoughts.
Best,
Mango