"Marilyn, are you well?" said a girl in front of me who I didn't know. I was getting tired of people knowing my name without my knowing theirs. I sat up and tried to breathe more steadily.
"I think so, just tired," I said, attempting a British accent, what people thought of me didn't really matter now. I wasn't sure if she heard anyway, for just then Elizabeth Bennett came and sat by her.
"Good evening Marilynn," she said to me first and then she started talking to the other, serious looking girl. As soon as I was over the shock and awe of the idea that she'd just said my name, I leaned in to hear what she was saying more clearly.
"I wonder Mary, if you are not wiser for refusing to participate in such a thing as dancing," she started giving a shrewd glance towards the intimate group of Caroling Bingley, and I felt the same at that moment. "It is insufferable to have to deal with, certain partners."
"Well," her sister answered, "I never wanted to come in the first place, and should not have if Lydia had not complained so to Mama." Elizabeth smiled at her sister and then got up again.
"I think I shall go find Jane, if she's at last been left to herself."
"And ask about news of Wickham?" Mary slyly questioned so I could barely hear. Elizabeth just smirked and ran off. I wanted to laugh, once again happy in this little dream, but then I remembered what would happen later concerning this poor girl across from me and a piano experience. I got a quick idea in my head and decided to try it out.
"Mary," I started, nervously wiping a curl out of my face. Mary apparently didn't hear. I got up my courage and moved to sit next to her. She looked at me sideways and I took a deep breath before making my try.
"Mary, I hear you…or have heard you play the piano excellently."
"I am no better judge of my own playing than anyone else," she answered demurely. I felt frustrated. I was supposed to know so much about some people and too little about others. It seemed so dumb. I sighed and tried once more, picking a subject that might help me get onto what I wanted to speak of.
"I think playing could be considered much more profitable then knowing how to dance well." She raised her eyes in interest, and so I continued. "I don't know if I can really dance at all, but I do know some things about the piano…forte, more than some…acquaintances." The truth was I knew nothing about these sorts of dances beside what I'd seen in movie, but I could play four songs on the piano pretty well—better than my best friend. My sills would be pitiful here, but that wasn't my point.
"I do find great enjoyment in music and reading, like philosophy." I was surprised to find us having anything in common, and my confidence grew.
"Yes, books are wonderful. I wondered though; have you ever heard Mr. Bingley's sister, Mrs. Hurst play?"
"No, they have not been in the country long, why do you ask?"
"Well, I just thought it would be interesting to see how well they play, when they put on such airs. Perhaps if we heard her play tonight we could judge them more fairly to your obvious skill. I hear she claims to play expertly." She nodded.
"Perhaps we could, although I do not usually approve of competition. Then again, I had hoped…" she fingered a composition on her lap. I knew all too well what it was. She saw me looking at it and held it closer.
"I don't know if this is the best time for a singing event. If you had something prepared, perhaps you could present it at a dinner at Longbourne later. I would love to hear you, but I must admit I am anxious to find out how well this Mrs. Hurst can play." I tried to say it the nicest way I could, but had no idea of success because Mary just nodded politely without looking at me. I would have to try and save her later. I was crazy for being here and talking to Mary like she really existed when she shouldn't have. I gave up and left, wandering the room while avoiding certain people until dinner was called for.
Finally, everyone moved to the tables. I looked frantically for my pretend aunt, but Jannette found me first and led me to where we were to be seated. She was obviously still upset with me, but I didn't really care right then because I was thrilled to see that the Bennetts were sitting near us. I looked around the table trying to name people in my head. Mary, Lydia, Kitty, Elizabeth, Jane, and presumably Mr. and Mrs. Bennett. I grinned widely. Next to Elizabeth was some odd man who was a bit short, with a hunched over sort of slimy air about him. I saw the disgust on the heroine's face and almost giggled to know that I was seeing the actual Mr. Collins in person. This would be an exciting dinner, if I could stop from embarrassing myself anymore. It was sadly a little comforting to remember that I wasn't the only one who would leave this dance feeling embarrassed. Poor Elizabeth!
I was very pleasantly surprised to see that Jane ended up sitting near Bingley and Darcy a little ways across from Elizabeth and I wonder who had arranged it all. We were seated near enough so that Jannette was near enough to Bingley's sister's to hear their gossip, which left me on the end next to a stranger on one side who, in all my shyness, I made no attempt to speak to. All I could really end up doing was cringing as Mrs. Bennett's embarrassing remarks about Jane and pretend to be interested in whatever Caroline said to Janette. I also scrutinized everyone's tables manners and didn't dare eat a thing until I saw how other people were doing it. I did at one point, catch Mr. Wasch watching me watching people and I afterword tried to be much more discreet.
After supper, someone said something about singing, and I automatically stared at Mary with concern. As if prompted, she pulled out the composition and mentioned that she'd did have something prepared. I shook my head and Elizabeth was making a hard effort to suppress her need for exposure, but it was to no avail and Mary attacked the opportunity with fervor. I covered my face with my hand in another very unladylike gesture as the tune started to roll forth. It was actually a pretty tune and it was obvious that Mary had practiced it. Unfortunately, her voice was week and childish. She sang the tune alright, but was a bit overdramatic with it in a way that put her thin notes to quite a bit of a disadvantage. I could see the horror on Elizabeth's face and it was much more painful than just reading about it in the book. Secondhand embarrassment can be torturous. I was annoyed that I had failed at doing anything so far to help. It was this cursed shyness that always tormented me. I had to do something. When the song was over, I immediately stood up, nearly stumbling into my chair.
"Thank you , Mary," I said a little too loudly, after a few others had commended her efforts. Everyone looked at me and I stumbled over my next words. "Mrs. Hurst, I'm also very fond of music and I've heard from that you play the piano wonderfully, would you please play something?" I sat down as soon as the rush of words was out of my mouth and my face started to grow warm.
"Well, I don't know about that," Mrs. Hurst started to say.
"You have another song prepared don't you, Mary?" Lydia said, probably with malicious intent. I stared at her with horror. Apparently though, it was just the right thing to say. Miss Hurst patted a hand my way and stood up.
"If Miss Marilynn really desires to hear me play the piano, perhaps I can indulge her this once," she said and commenced in playing a fabulous arrangement that was as in-your-face impressive as I believe she could manage. I sat back and sighed with relief, but watched to see if anyone else was looking at me. Mary was, but it was a look of understanding. I don't think she realized what I just did. Janette gave me a surprised look and I imagined that I probably had succeeded in establishing myself as the innocent-seeming (often described as "sweet" awkward and shy one of the table. It was a familiar mask, though and I could wear it more comfortably than Elizabeth's embarrassment. I sort of lost track of what happened after that and instead was lost in thought about annoyed Jane Austen would be if it was discovered that I actually had changed the story. I'm not sure if I really did or not, since Mr. Collins afterward gave a near exact embarrassing speech after Mrs. Hurst's display. If I spared anyone, it was Mr. Bennet.
The rest of the ball, poor Elizabeth was cornered by Mr. Collins. I wished I could spare her, but there was definitely nothing I could do. His attention was completely hers. I admit, I couldn't help but laugh at him. He was so ridiculous and I at least knew that he was no real threat to Elizabeth's future happiness. The interesting experiences of the Bennet family were mostly over for the evening and I tried to think about other things, enjoying the beauty of regency era fashion and neoclassical architecture.
"How did you know Mrs. Hurst is fond of playing?" Janette asked when we were alone. I shrugged.
"Someone said something…"
"Not that I remember," she returned suspiciously. I shrugged again and reminded myself of the consequences of interfering.
"She does play well though," I said. Janette agreed.
"You could play as well if you applied yourself." I laughed.
"Probably," I answered, but how she knew that was just as much a mystery to me as my knowledge was to her…okay, maybe a little less since I actually knew that I wasn't supposed to be here—if that makes sense at all. Janette sighed.
"I'm tired," she said, "If you're not going to dance tonight, then I suppose there is no reason for us to stay."
"I guess not," I said. Janette and I then wound around the room to find our aunt, making several stops along the way while she talked to friends and I just stood nearby. Finally, we were ready to go and bid farewell to the Bingley family and friends.
"Are you leaving already?" Caroline said to Jannette sweetly. I was convinced her every action was just irony, but Janette thought she was real.
"Unfortunately, yes, but we will see you again?"
"Of course." Caroline merely gave me a slight smile.
"Thank you for playing for us," I managed to say to Mrs. Hurst as we met her, "You are indeed as skilled as they say." She thanked me for the flattery and overall treated me like the simple girl she probably believed me to be. I also got to say a passing farewell to Bingley and Darcy, which sent my heart in flutters.
"We were glad to have you both," Bingley told us with his usual grin, "Please come again, anytime." Darcy stood silently by him and I tried to suppress the grin pushing at my lips as I thought about his stoic shyness, his absolutely handsomeness, and inner goodness. He and Elizabeth would be very happy. I would have been happy if I were the kind of crazy person to interrupt a story like that. The thought made me a little forlorn and confused. What were the consequences of doing crazy whimsical things and having crazy whimsical desires in a fictional universe? Should I be taking more advantage of my wish? The stubborn half of me responded with a flat No. Even in fiction, I was not going to be that girl. I would be firm and defy the universe for abusing my wish.
All that was what I was I was thinking when Mr. Wasch also approached us.
"Miss Parkley, Miss Marilynn. It was an honor to meet you both. I hope that I will see you again before long."
"Perhaps," Janette responded. I gulped remembering how terribly I'd managed to pass as a lady in front of this stranger. "Will you be joining your friend when he and his sisters come to dine?"
"I would like to if I am able," he responded and gave me a little smile. "You said you were fond of music, Miss Marilynn, do you play?" I hesitated. I wasn't expecting that one to come back and bite me.
"Um…not really no. Only a little more than I dance…unfortunately." He seemed mildly disappointed, but what could I say? "Sweet Hour of Prayer," even with my special way of playing it, was like "Chopsticks" to what Mrs. Hurst had played.
"Please, don't let my friend's sister intimidate you; she's practiced all her life."
"I'm sure she could play something for us when you came," Janette pressed. She was going to be perpetually annoyed with me if this continued. Everyone was going to think I was the shiest mouse in the world, when in reality I was just extremely unskilled.
"I suppose…" I said, mainly just not to sound as simple as everyone probably thought, but then I gulped at my own statement.
"I look forward to hearing it," Mr. Wasch responded with the utmost gentle cordiality. Then he was gone again and I was mortified as we got into the carriage and it sunk in. Improvised "Sweet Hour of Prayer" it would be. Maybe if I played it fast enough and practiced embellishing it all week it would look impressive. But in front of the entire Bingley posse? Including expert Mrs. Hurst? I was going to die.