Chapter Seven: Muscle Memory

It was not a normal occurrence for such a level-headed person such as Fitzwilliam Darcy to find himself in constant battle of obtaining control over his thoughts. A ruse or two he might have used, had he thought tricking himself into returning his senses to their once calm and easy state a reasonable ambition. The imaginative eyes that had entered his consciousness the night of the assembly were persistent in their remaining at the fore of his thinking while rendering him partially blind to the goings on of life around him.

Mr. Darcy was not of the nature to shower affection nor was he experienced in being a persuasive lover; but of late he found himself entertaining the notion of riding over to Longbourn. Not to actually gain admittance, however; that was a step too far even for his infatuated mind. No, his idea lead more towards the simple act of circling around the grounds in the chance of the young lady stepping out and their meeting quite by coincidence.

At the end of such imaginings, Mr. Darcy would scoff at his own idiocy, rebuking himself into a chaste mood for the remainder of the day. He believed himself to be discreet in his musings and while Mr. Bingley was in similar straights, Caroline was suffering from no such heartache's that were attached to person's residing in a different house. Her already observant eyes now stuck to Mr. Darcy as a devout worshiper would a holy shrine; following his pacing step measure the length of the room, keeping watch while he stared out the window, and even committing each of his changing expressions to memory as he reclined beside her brother.

It was not very good company at Netherfield presently as nearly all it's inhabitants were consumed with thoughts of people absent either physically or mentally. And with that dilemma, conversation and light-hearted talks were becoming a rarity.

However, this was not the case three miles away. Longbourn, the subject of Mr. Darcy's fancies, was a place of never ending chatter, ostentation and overall feeling of misplaced pomp and grandeur.


"And I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right and Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her Ladyship."

"Is it, indeed." Mama simpered at the foot of the table. We all had our dinner served before us and were moving through the courses more speedily than usual. I attributed it to the fact that, like Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Collins had a gift for supplying himself and his wary listeners with an endless bounty of conversation. Though conversation was not the right word as he was largely the only one speaking, therefore the rest of us had nothing to do with our mouths except eat our meals as fast as possible and call dinner to a close.

In all honesty I was hoping for Mrs. Bennet to catch a gleam of his words, fasten on and interrupt him to the affect of going off on a spout of her own; but even she was having difficulty in keeping up with all that the clergyman had to say.

Throughout dinner his attentions had been most pronounced in the direction of neither Jane or myself, but at Mary of all people. The sly looks they had given each other at the door hadn't slipped my notice but it was an impossible thing to happen. Not once in the book did Mr. Collins show the slightest interest in the middle daughter of the Bennet girls. Yet, there he was, sitting directly across from Jane and only speaking to her every other sentence while Mary continued to receive the most animated of his tellings. I wasn't even looked at at all, though I thanked my lucky stars for that.

While us Bennets were nearly done with our meal, Mr. Collins still had a ways to go and I feared that we would all have to suffer the wait of his finishing it.

"You seem very...uh...fortunate in your patroness, sir." Mr. Bennet commented. His difficulty in finding the proper word quite escaped our guest's notice, who was more than happy to re-introduce the great lady's name into the conversation.

"Indeed, I am." He set his glass of sherry down, swishing the liquid passed his cheeks before swallowing. "I have been treated with such affability, such condescension, as I would never have dared to hope for. I have been invited twice to dine at Rosings Park." He paused dramatically, no doubt awaiting praise that would reach to the high heavens. Instead he was met with uninterested silence, a badly done flirtatious smile from Mary, and a rather tardy response from his host.

"That so? Amazing."

Despite my annoyance at Mr. Bennet, I had to hide an amused grin by turning my head.

"Does she live near you, sir?" Mrs. Bennet inquired with the most sedate tone I've ever heard her utter.

"The garden, in which stands my humble abode, is separated only by a lane..." he demonstrated with his hands, holding them apart only a foot from each other; "from Rosings Park."

"Only a lane, eh? Fancy that, Lizzy." Father quirked his brows at me.

"I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?" The foot of the table questioned with the same soft tones that was foreign to her.

"She has one daughter, ma'am. The heiress of Rosings, and of very extensive property." Mr. Collins preached, his voice growing ever louder as he leaned across me to speak with Mrs. Bennet. I could only watch him as if he were some strange creature exhibiting odd behaviour inside a glass cage.

"And has she been presented at court?" Mrs. Bennet questioned. Here, Mr. Collins withdrew somewhat, channeling the character of a bearer of bad news.

"Ah. She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution which unhappily prevents her being in town. And by that means, as I told Lady Catherine myself one day, she has deprived the British court of its brightest ornament." His voice fluctuated from being low to quite high and returning to an almost conspiratory volume as he addressed Mr. Bennet to his left at the head of the table.

"You may imagine, sir, how happy I am on every occasion to offer those little delicate compliments, which are always acceptable to ladies." He finished almost smugly. Mary was clearly enchanted but had to curb her amorous feelings to glare at Lydia who had snorted quite openly at her cousin's words.

"That is fortunate for you, Mr. Collins, that you possess such an extraordinary talent for flattering with delicacy." Mr. Bennet remarked as he patted his lips with his napkin and gave me a mischievous look. I tried to ignore him by casting my eyes in the opposite direction, but it was of no use. His teasing tone and gleaming eyes mixed with what I knew he was about to say managed to make me forgive him for his careless parenting.

'Their all fictional anyway.'

"May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are they the result of previous study?"

I giggled softly into my own napkin and caught Jane's eyes. She wore the smallest of smiles herself and had to quickly raise a glass to her lips to remain polite. As had been the case throughout dinner, Mr. Collins was none the wiser to our laughing at him and was seriously contemplating the question presented before him. His face was screwed up in consideration, apparently wanting to choose the best possible words for his answer.

"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, sir. I do sometimes amuse myself by writing down and arranging such little compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions." He chuckled. "But I try to give them as unstudied an air as possible." He quickly returned, concern writ across his face that he may be exposed at being so transparent.

Mr. Bennet simply smiled and said, "Excellent."

The rest of the evening followed much in the same vain as it did in the novel; Mr. Collins read to us, Lydia interrupted him and he set aside his book which he thankfully did not pick up for the rest of the night. Instead he moved quietly over to Mrs. Bennet's side and began a whispered conversation. I could guess at the subject but not the person it would centre around. He had smiled a bit simperingly at Jane, but their was no mistaking the attraction between him and Mary. I hated to say it, but it was a little creepy.

Everything was calm now; dinner was digesting, the light outside was fading, and their was a warm fire crackling away in the hearth. I was occupying one of the seats closets to the fire, busy thawing my frozen fingers. Central heating was sadly non-existent and I was having a time of acclimatizing myself to the fast growing colder weather. The others made do in shawls and wraps, whereas I had three or four bundled around my shoulders even within the house. Outside was another matter completely; in fact I found it less enjoyable to venture out without layering as much as possible by which time my sisters lost all patience in waiting for me and left. Today had been an exception as the sun had been extraordinarily warm, but with only the moon now, the chill had returned and I was ready to make my skin flame-resistant so that I may sit within the fire.

I rubbed my hands together and looked up at Lydia and Kitty who were rising and bidding us all a good night. Making up my mind, I stood and followed them.

"Lydia, Kitty, can I have a word?"

They shrugged their shoulders and acquiesced.

"Not here." I took their hands and led them to their room. Shutting the door behind them I prepared myself for awkward questions that I still did not know how I would answer.

"What is it, Lizzy?" Lydia questioned with a furrowed brow.

"You're being awfully mysterious." Kitty remarked.

"Am I?" I absently answered. "I don't mean to be." I walked from the door to one of their beds, wringing my fingers. I felt their eyes on me and knew that I must be killing them with suspense of what I had to say.

'Just get it out then.'

"I know this will sound completely mad and strange," I said, facing them, "but I need to ask a favour from the pair of you."

They blinked and nodded, ready to hear what it was.

"Er...well, the thing is..."

"Please Lizzy, we'd like to go to bed." Kitty said after a second of my hesitating.

"We have to go to Meryton tomorrow and it wouldn't do if we were too tired to rise."

I inwardly cringed. "Well, if you are to do my favour it would mean that you wouldn't go to Meryton tomorrow."

"What are you up to?" Lydia immediately suspicioned.

"Nothing," I extended my hands, palms up, to show my innocence. Lydia was not assuaged.

"Look, it's actually really simple. I seem to have forgotten how to dance."

They stared at me. Then at each other. Then back at me before Lydia scoffed. "Even you could do better than that, Lizzy."

"No, I'm serious. I fainted twice when Mr. Darcy found me and I woke up with a pain at the back of my head. Doctor Martin thought it only a headache but it's lingering and I find I have no memory of any of the dances." I invented. They were at least listening to me which I thought was encouraging. I was trying to present as serious a face as possible, though the absurdity of what I was saying was threatening to surface.

"Lizzy, you can't be serious." Lydia half admonished.

"I am being earnest. I do not wish to trouble mama with this as I know it will pass soon enough and I wish to not worry her. Once my cold is fully gone my head will be fine, I'm sure, but I worry that my memory of dancing will not return."

"And hasn't Mr. Darcy prematurely asked for your hand at whatever may be the next dance?" Kitty inquired. I nodded.

Lydia sighed and eyed me. "I suppose Denny can always come here."

"And Sanderson! We'll have dance partners for Lizzy." Kitty enthused.

"Wait," I obstructed her gleeful thought. "I'm not sure we should have people witnessing my younger sisters teaching me to dance."

"No, and I do not want any officers thinking any of my sisters are a dunce - "

"Thanks."

" - it would put them off. No," she tapped her chin, "perhaps Denny shouldn't come after all." She sighed. "Well, I suppose they'll be here all winter."

I smiled. "Does that mean you'll teach me?"

"Yes," she returned the expression, "mind, you'll have to do everything I say."

"Yes, ma'am." I knuckled my brow in a stiff salute. They gave me curious looks and I dropped my hand back down to my side.

"Er...thank you. I'll listen to all your instructions." I made my way to their door and bid them goodnight with a little more hope of not embarrassing myself in front of Mr. Darcy.


"Now, Lizzy, you're going to link your hands with Jane's and spin in a circle as Kitty and I do the same." Lydia demonstrated; her right hand behind her back, holding Kitty's left hand as Kitty mimicked the pose on the opposite side. Jane and I followed, the former falling into the figure easily, while the latter - that would be my clumsy self - had to walk with her eyes staring at her feet. I felt a complete idiot that I couldn't even spin in a circle without getting confused of what was meant to come next.

I was presently learning the strasbourgeoise cotillion. A lively enough dance that reminded me of American square dancing. There were four partners that spun and wound around each other throughout the figures and seemed fun enough, if only I knew the steps.

I was only at the very beginning; we had just bowed to start the dance. Originally I had only wanted Lydia and Kitty in on the secret, but they had persuaded me that Jane should be included as it would be easier if there was an even number. The eldest Bennet girl had been rather skeptical, though once she heard of my head complaint she expressed her worry and was ready to go and tell mama of it. It took all my persuasive powers to get her to drop it for the time being and to only concern herself in helping me learn how to dance.

"Alright, Lizzy, now let go of Jane and we'll do the same." Lydia instructed. She and Kitty separated as Jane released my hands. I curved my step, aiming for Lydia, but I was so concerned in not messing up that it was unpreventable as I tripped into my teacher.

"Sorry." I said, straightening and fixing the ruffled sleeve of Lydia's frock. She batted my hand away and fixed it herself.

"It must have been a hard fall." She loudly muttered with a huff.

"It was a faint, actually." I mildly corrected. She hmphed as she unceremoniously dropped herself onto the sofa. We were in the drawing room where the furniture had been pushed towards the walls to give us girls an open space in the middle of the floor. Mrs. Bennet had yet to discover us while Mary and Mr. Collins were busy studying Fordyce's sermons.

"I'm sorry." I repeated, standing before the impatient girl. Lydia had her back slumped in an overly dramatic pose. "I know you wanted to go to Meryton today and I'm being difficult."

I saw her eyes peaking up at me through her bristling lashes which softened as her whole demeanour relaxed at my apology.

"Shall we try again?" She held up her hand and I took it. Jane and Kitty were about to step back into position when the door to the room opened, admitting Mary and Mr. Collins.

"What are you doing?" Our dearly, ill-timed sister asked.

I opened my mouth, preparing to reveal my secret to two more persons when Lydia answered for me.

"We're practicing. Lizzy's more excited for her dance with Mr. Darcy then she's letting on."

I didn't know whether to be grateful or miffed at her answer, so I settled for something in between the two.

"Did you say Mr. Darcy?" Our clergyman of a cousin inquired.

"Yes, of Pemberly." Jane answered. "Is he known to you?"

"Only his name. His aunt is the one I claim the acquaintance with. He is the nephew of none other than my most estimable patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I had no idea that he was currently in the country." He grinned with an almost caricaturist gleam. "What happy chances are these. And you say that you have been asked to dance with Mr. Darcy?" He asked most eagerly, his beady eyes lighting on me.

"Yes. There was a little confusion at our first meeting, however, we have since cleared that all away."

"How glad I am to hear it." He nearly expounded. "A very pleasing attention to yourself, Miss Elizabeth, I'm sure. Miss Mary, perhaps you might aid your dear sister by providing music to their dance." Mr. Collins suggested. Mary's eyes practically sparkled at the opportunity to exhibit her playing skills in front of the first man who has attracted her notice. Lydia rose her brows at her sister's willingness in giving us music; I knew she must be thinking that had any of us asked it of her she would have refused with one of her condescending answers.

"And now," Mr. Collin's said as the first notes started up on the piano; "I will stand as judge of your execution and guide you where I see your talents lacking. The nephew of Lady Catherine must not be disappointed."

I reeled. "Sir, I thank you, but I am sure we can manage without turning into a spectator sport."

"Nonsense, cousin. I am happy to offer my assistance, in fact I will stand as your partner; the better to judge the experience that will be Mr. Darcy's."

I looked to each of my sisters with open-mouthed horror.

"You need not be frightened," Mr. Collins said, noticing my unflattering attitude. I clamped my mouth shut and stared bug-eyed at him. "I will not report any mistakes you may make now."

The piano continued to play out a jaunty tune and I saw no way in which to explain to Mr. Collins my current dilemma. My sisters were one thing, whereas the clergyman was the henchman of Lady Catherine.

Shutting my eyes, I nodded. Upon opening them I saw Lydia and Kitty standing next to us while Jane took a seat on the sofa. An amused smile spread across her face as plain as day.

We waited for the song to begin from the top to start the movements. When they came I managed to remember what Lydia had told me for the first turn, but after that I knew nothing. Mr. Collins and I spun and then something happened that took me completely by surprise - I was dancing. Automatically my limbs reacted to the other dancers and the four of us twined and weaved with not an incident on my side. In truth, it was Mr. Collins that had tripped a few times.

The looks of wonder on my sisters' faces could not match the astonishment that I felt. I was suddenly reminded of how I had oddly known the set up of the dining table when I had had my first breakfast in the Bennet household.

'Muscle memory,' I thought.

Passing Lydia, I gave her a bashful smile and a curious shrug in explanation of my sudden flow of memory. She gave me a toothy grin and I was enjoying the feeling of dancing in the Regency era with no woman telling me what to do over a cackling microphone. I knew the steps, as a sleepwalker knows where the stairs are and how to climb down them. I didn't even mind that my inauguration into dancing was shared with Mr. Collins. For all his blundering, he served his purpose well.

"What's all this?" A joyful, masculine, voice rang out through the room, beckoning everyone's attention and causing the music to stop. There were three men filling up the doorway; two were dressed in their uniforms while the plain-clothed one didn't need the splendid scarlet to draw attention to himself. His features were compellingly handsome that I found myself content in studying him until I realized who he must be.

"Denny!" Lydia exclaimed. "What a joke! We did not hear the door. You have found us quite in cheerful spirits."

"Excuse me, I will inform the missus." Our stout little house-keeper had been quite passed over, despite her standing at the front of the party. Hill bobbed her head and retreated in search of Mrs. Bennet.

"I see now why you nor Kitty could be found nowhere in town." Denny smiled as he walked into the room. The others followed and I saw that the plain-clothed man had his eyes on me. I was praying that he wasn't Wickham - for more than one reason. I saw that I wasn't the only one who had observed the favourable form.

"But I am remiss." Denny gallantly apologized, extending his arm and clapping his hand on the plain-clothed man's shoulder. "Allow me to introduce my friend, and fellow officer, George Wickham. And this other fellow is Sanderson, infamous for his never revealing his first name."

"Ladies," Wickham and Sanderson bowed. The former flicked his eyes on all of us women before stopping on me. I set my jaw.

"And Lydia if you will be so good as to introduce your family."

"Kitty you already know; Mary is by the piano; our cousin, Mr. Collins; Jane is just there by the sofa; and Lizzy, the reason we did not appear in Meryton this morning."

"My apologies." I smiled weakly in Denny's direction.

"Not at all. A sister's duty must not be trifled with." He beamed.

"Indeed." I simply said.

"Well, let us not keep you. You seem to be in want of partners." Denny's offer sent my stomach turning as I watched Wickham approach with a well-played sweet smile on his face. Before he could reach me, however, I turned my attention back to Mr. Collins as Kitty stood up with Sanderson and Lydia with Denny. Seeing that I was not receptive, Wickham approached Jane and asked if she would care to dance.

Mary resumed her playing and we couples shook the drawing room with our stomping and clomping. Once again I was amazed at how my body knew what to do. I stopped my mind from thinking and let feeling take over. It moved me through the dance as fluidly as a fish would wade through a stream; even thoughts of Wickham were put on hold. I didn't know the name of the dance, but that hardly mattered. As long as I didn't look like a fool in front of Mr. Darcy, I was happy.

Mary played the last notes of the song and the couples bowed and curtsied.

"That will be all! Thank you!" Mr. Bennet's muffled shout reached our ears; a twinge of irritability was in his voice. We laughed and broke up into separate parties just as Mrs. Bennet entered the room.

I immediately tuned out her exulting exclamations and took a seat on a chair. She was swift in immersing herself in the youngsters' conversation and I thought I heard mention of a certain Sergeant Henshawe. I kept a close eye on Lydia and who she spoke to. It was mainly Denny, but there were many glances cast at Wickham, though un-returned, they still gave me cause to worry.

For myself, I was acutely aware of Wickham's abundant looks passed my way and was almost relieved when he rose from Mrs. Bennet's side and came over to sit beside me. The sooner I could tell him off and cut off his sob story the better.

"What a charming mother you have." He opened.

I gave him a look.

Chuckling, he settled back in his chair and stuck his chin out at me. "You don't trust me. From the moment I walked in you've been avoiding me. Why?"

I felt my face getting red. I had not thought he would be the one to so bluntly bring to light the less than cordial way in which I had met him. I decided to not let him perturb me.

"I know you Wickham, so before you start your tale of sorrows of how Mr. Darcy wronged you, let me tell you that no one in this family will fall for it. You just stay away because I'll be watching you. Every time you try to pull a stroke I'll be behind you with a big neon sign saying, 'don't trust this guy.'" I channeled Amanda Price and was slightly satisfied to see the confused expression marring Wickham's near perfect brow.

"What is neon?"

"Wait and see." I quipped, turning my head away. I expected him to stand and go away, but he remained and at last he spoke.

"How do you know of my relation with Mr. Darcy?"

I looked back at him and rudely smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know."

His eyes flashed suddenly with a fire that shouldn't have been revealed until the end of the book. Feeling the raw emotion running off of him, I stood and quickly stepped away. I took a spot next to Jane and tried to calm myself, but it was in vain. Throughout the officers visit, Wickham's eyes were on me and I had the sinking feeling that I had said the wrong thing.


A/N: I would first like to thank all of you who have reviewed and told me your thoughts. I love hearing from you guys - even if it's constructive criticism. And thank you to all who has followed and favorited the story. It does make me smile.

This weeks question is: how would you deal with Wickham if you were in Sophie's shoes?

'Till next time.