Pride, Prejudice, Illyana and Zombies
(Lots and lots of zombies)
(An Illyana passage story)
Author's note: Ahh… the ball at last. The ball was quite a long affair, it started early in the afternoon and took up the remainder of the day. This is a big chapter.
I now look upon this work and realize I'm just shy 100,000 words at this point and the end is far far away. Yikes! Never intended to write a freaking novel.
Well… dem's da breaks I suppose.
Part 21a: Utopia interlude
Emma interrupted. "Finally we come to the ball, I had almost given up upon it occurring."
"It was quite the social event of the season for the district." Stated Illyana. "Mrs. Bennet was quite a flutter about it, and, I swear, that Jane had barely slept or two days. Everybody so wished to look their finest. Mr. Bennet was quite amused with all the female antics as he put it, not that it prevented him from looking his finest as well. He'll never admit it, but I'm quite certain he was already imagining giving away the bride."
Scott sent (And yet again she uses present tense my love.)
(Yes) Emma replied. (Very consistent. Her story telling has so very few flaws.)
(And what flaws are those?) Scott inquired.
(I'll tell you later dear). Was Emma's simple reply.
"Was the portrait nice?" Was Emma inquiry. Which prompted a frown from Illyana.
"I gave it no real thought at the time but…" She fell silent as if she was thinking of past things. "It… was nice. Their… enjoyment of my presence so continually befuddled me then but now… I think… in the telling I… gleam… understanding."
"And what understanding is that?"
"They… like me for… me. I think I finally understand… how… odd. I really must think upon this."
"Hopefully not before you continue the story." Requested Emma.
"Even though you don't believe a word of it?"
"It is most entertaining. So many subtle variations of the written book. I'll have supper sent down if you like?"
"I would so like… pizza?"
"Pizza it is. Now what was Elizabeth wearing?"
"A most splendid blue silk dress, her finest. And of course the long silver dagger beneath the gown, the one that she favors for formal setting, it was strapped to her outer thigh. She had her hair done up, and a garroting wire concealed within it as one never knows. The hairpins were of course little tiny daggers. She had on her best shose, secretly iron tipped I might add. All the Bennets paid much attention to their appearances, but this was the finest I'd ever seen them."
"What were you wearing? Was it red?"
"No Emma, it wasn't red. That would have been too… bold and Mrs. Bennet would have been distressed as she would have felt that it might overshadow her daughters, something I took pains not to do. It was a white silk dress, very nice."
"Did you have a dagger as well?"
"Of course… we all did. Why would we not?"
Part 21b: The ball (Original Chap 18 of the real book)
The night of the BALL had at last arrived! And likewise did the Bennets.
They arrived via carriage to a most promising welcome which just delighted Mrs. Bennet. They had briefly stood by the doorway making sure their clothing was most proper and dignified (carriage rides tend to be bumpy, not to mention the possibility of encounters with the undead), when a rather sleek and attractive black cat had made a sudden appearance and twirled around Kitty's and Mary's legs before plainly meowing in front of Illyana who then gave him a scratch. He tolerated the petting for a few seconds, then ran and ineffectively hid behind a potted plant while batting at some branches.
"Humph" had been Mrs. Bennet's comment. "I see they are likewise overrun with cats as well, tis almost a plague one could say."
"Or not Mrs. Bennet." Had been Mr. Bennet's comment. "I for one am quite pleased as to the reduction of minor vermin that such a plague brings." With that the family entered Netherfield.
All was a delight as the Bennets were announced and they mingled with the growing crowd. Delightful till Elizabeth having entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, and looked in vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats assembled therein, a doubt as to his presence had never occurred to her. The certainty of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed with more than usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than might be won in the course of the evening. But in an instant arose the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy's pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation to the officers; and though this was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was pronounced by his friend Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to London on business the day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile, "I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here."
This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by Elizabeth, and, as it assured her that Darcy was not less answerable for Wickham's absence than if her first surmise had been just, every feeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make. Attendance, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham, or so she told herself. She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away with a degree of ill-humor which she could not wholly surmount even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her.
But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humor; and though every prospect of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her spirits; and having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular notice. The first two dances, however, brought a return of distress; as they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn, apologizing instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. With envy did she look upon her sister's dancing partners. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy of the first order.
She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking of Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked and his swordsmanship much admired and that 'why yes, his backhand swings were of excellent form and most commendable'. When those dances were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy who took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of mind while Charlotte tried to console her:
"I dare say you will find him very agreeable."
"Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Now you echo Illyana's advice, do not wish me such an evil."
When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her in a whisper, not to be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man ten or more times his consequence. Elizabeth made no answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and reading in her neighbors' looks, their equal amazement in beholding it. They stood and danced for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent.
After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with: "It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some sort of remark on the size of the room, the number of couples, the quality of the playing, or even to the pleasant lack of zombies intruding upon the ball."
He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said. A statement most certain to vex her, yet in this the genders forever remain divided. Illyana was to later comment, when all the Bennets had returned home and the girls were conversing about the ball far past the time when they should have retired to slumbers (apart from Lydia who was fast asleep), "When is a man at a loss for words when bespeaking to a woman? When he is deadly afraid of appearing a fool to one he would dearly not be taken as such."
We return to the ball and Elizabeth's reply.
"Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent."
"Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?"
"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."
"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"
"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the éclat of a proverb."
"This is not very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."
"I must not decide on my own performance." Was her reply.
He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."
The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a constrained manner said, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends wherever he goes, whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."
"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied Elizabeth with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."
Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. Darcy, he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.
"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza" (glancing at her sister and Bingley) "shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy: but let me not interrupt you, sir. You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me. If I impose but a moment longer her dagger shall find me and teach me a lesion on interrupting."
The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner, and said, "Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of."
"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine."
"What think you of books? Or the arts martial?" said he, smiling.
"Books, oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings."
"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions."
"No…I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else."
"The present always occupies you in such scenes…does it?" said he, with a look of doubt.
"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming, "I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."
"I am," said he, with a firm voice.
"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"
"I hope not."
"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."
"May I ask to what these questions tend?"
"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she, endeavoring to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."
"And what is your success?"
She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as to puzzle and vex me most exceedingly."
"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that reports may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."
"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity."
"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied.
She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerably powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against another.
Part 21c: Franklin
Illyana had been a participant in the same two dances. To her apparent surprise, a rather charming elderly gentlemen, who was the splitting image of Benjamin Franklin, had asked her to dance while she sat observing the crowd. She had accepted and he had expressed surprised at her accent.
"America by way of Russia? Which State or States did you reside in? I dearly hope it was not the District of Columbia, our former capital, now most regrettably overrun by the undead."
"I did not know that." Was Illyana's response. She reminded herself that she must remember her supposed memory loss. "I… don't quite recall anymore." She stated and then explained her loss of memory.
"Russia by way of New York I think…" Benjamin mused. "Although… somewhat off… defiantly not southern. This plague of the dead awoke has most certainly devastated the more rural localities of my young nation, yet it has done one thing of good."
"And what is that sir?"
"That most peculiar institution of the south, and of other unpleasant localities upon this globe, are thankfully no more. Slavery has now perished as it deserves. When the dead walk, all men must rally together in common defense and bondage so interferes. At least there is that blessing as we endeavor to survive this curse."
They exchanged names and Illyana expressed surprise at his. "You not only look like Mr. Franklin, but you have his name as well."
"An unfortunate choice of names. Yes I do so very much resemble one of the Founding Fathers… There is much… talk that my resemblance is more then just appearance, but my father did kill two in duals over offense to his and my mother's honor when questions were raised. But I am of Boston and not of Pennsylvania. Late of New York, the new capital of these United States." With that he made his exit.
When the dancing began once again Mr. Franklin returned and claimed her hand. Illyana noticed that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth were dancing as well, and that they appeared almost obvious to all others. Mary was likewise dancing with the eldest son of the Wendells and Catharine was with one of the officers. Lydia was over by the punchbowl engaged in a conversation with another red coat.
This Franklin look-alike may have been old, but he was most skilled at the dance. He response to her complement.
"Thank you my dear. Old I may be, but some skills I have retained. Yet now I find myself tied of tongue. I would start a conversation by inquiry as to your travels as you are apparently not of this place, yet bereft of memory such opening gambits fail."
"Gambits sir? That sounds like chess."
"Do you play?"
"A bit… not well. Long term strategy is oft my undoing. I tend to strike at the threat of the moment rather then look deeper."
"A common failing I assure you. Strategy is a skill to be learned like any other."
"Since we are unable to converse as to my past Mr. Franklin… how odd to call one such who so looks the part… how does one from Boston, late of New York, happen to be in the English countryside?"
"Invitation… I currently reside in London, business dealings, and I have reacquainted myself with an old family friend, I had had extensive dealings with her now departed husband. Lady Catherine De Bourgh, whom I was surprised to find to be a women for more then some note, when last I had seen her she was but a young bride."
"Yes… I have heard of her. Her estate's minister is here at the party as he is a cousin of the Bennets and is staying for a bit."
"A fussy and rather oblivious man?" Inquired Mr. Franklin.
"You've met?"
"Regrettable… Silence is not always a Sign of Wisdom, but Babbling is ever a Mark of Folly."
"Insightful Mr. Franklin… insightful. But you were recounting how you came to be here."
"Yes… Having reacquainted myself with Lady De Bourgh, I found myself frequently present at her estate. She received an invitation for this ball, likely just a curtsy invite, but she felt I should met her nephew. Sadly, she was unable to attend due to last minute issues but she insisted I attend anyway. A most insistent woman is Lady De Bourgh. So, I found myself thrust into a carriage, along with a gentleman by the name of Mr. Wick who Lady De Bourgh insisted that I take with me as my skills in the arts martial are so sadly lacking. Apparently Mr. Wick is proficient in all manners of arts martial; which was a blessing as zombies did obstruct the road at one point, that and an pair of brigands who were unwise in their choice of targets. We arrived last night to some slight dismay from Mr. Darcy as to the lack of his aunt and my presence although the sparring presence of Mr. Wick was most welcomed. Mr. Wick and I will depart with the dawn and return to London."
"So you are surrounded by strangers whom you know not a wick about. Oh dear, apologies as to the poor choice of words. I inadvertently misused Mr. Wicks name."
"Think nothing of it my dear. Yes, I am a tolerated house guest. Soon to be gone. I fear I have not impressed Mr. Darcy in anyway so Lady De Bourgh will likely be cross with me. But enough of such trite, thankyou my dear for giving an old man the pleasure of a dance with a young and pretty lady. The young so often are only focused on the same. Take that lovely couple over there…" Mr. Franklin indicated Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth as they danced. "A Man in a passion rides a mad horse. He is obviously besotted with her and his reason has departed. She would have been mortified if I were to ask that pretty young thing for a dance."
"Because of your age?"
"Exactly. All would live long, but none would be old. The young live as if they will be as they are forever, only the old know how sweet and fleeting such times truly are."
"And yet you asked me? Should I not be horrified? Mortified? Crushed that only the old and the aged find me to be of any appeal?"
That elicited a brief snort of laughing distain. "As if… you strike me as one who looks beyond such things. Ah… the dance is regrettably over and I must take my rest. Another curse of age, we can only partake of the feast of life in small doses. If only I were a younger man then…" A look of slight astonishment. "Then perhaps I might have had some measure of a chance with one such as you."
"I do not judge as most do Mr. Franklin. I… enjoyed the dance and would welcome spending more time with you."
He bowed and departed to go take his rest. Illyana stepped back and watched him depart the room.
Lydia passed by and made comment. "You danced well Yana, but better the officers then the infirm."
"He was most… skilled." Was Illyana's reply.
Yes… she thought, the Lord Commander of Hydra was most skilled in many things, magic likely being one, he had the feel of the Art about him. And some additional servants of Hydra were now made known to her. But this… Franklin… he was unexpected. Next time don't bring a kitten with you when you welcome your Lord Commander of Hydra was her amused thought.
But… one thing he was not. He was not one of her summoners; such things are… felt when encountered. Illyana went to partake of some punch while idly wondering just what reward the cats would eventually desire. A reward they had just earned.
Part 21d: The ball (Original Chap 18 of the real book)
Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had not long separated, when Miss Bingley came towards her, and with an expression of civil disdain accosted her:
"So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham! Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand questions; and I find that the young man quite forgot to tell you, among his other communication, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy's using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has always been remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated Mr. Darcy in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother thought that he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way. His coming into the country at all is a most insolent thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favorite's guilt; but really, considering his descent, one could not expect much better."
"His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same," said Elizabeth angrily; "for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself."
Elizabeth had to remind herself that slaying a sister of the ball's host was very bad form, especially before the meal had been served.
"I beg your pardon," replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer. "Excuse my interference, it was kindly meant."
"Insolent girl!" said Elizabeth to herself. "You are much mistaken if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see nothing in it but your own willful ignorance and the malice of Mr. Darcy."
She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening. Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for Wickham, resentment against his enemies, the desire to express herself with savage and lethal violence, and everything else, gave way before the hope of Jane's being in the fairest way for happiness.
"I want to know," said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her sister's, "what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which case you may be sure of my pardon."
"No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity, and honor of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has received; and I am sorry to say by his account as well as his sister's, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's good regard."
"Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?"
"No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton."
"This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am satisfied. But what does he say of the living?"
"He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left to him conditionally only."
"I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity," said Elizabeth warmly; "but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr. Bingley's defense of his friend was a very able one, I dare say; but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture to still think of both gentlemen as I did before."
But… there was a little voice in Elizabeth's head that did point out that her sources of information was equally one-sided. A voice that irritated Elizabeth as it repeated what Illyana had said. The fact that the voice was her own was even more distressing.
She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Mr. Bingley's regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence in it. On their then being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them, and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery.
"I have found out," said he, "by a singular accident, that there is now in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honors of the house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have thought of my meeting with, perhaps, a nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in this assembly! I am most thankful that the discovery is made in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total ignorance of the connection must plead my apology."
"You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy!" Was Elizabeth's horrified utterance.
"Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. I believe him to be Lady Catherine's nephew. It will be in my power to assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se'nnight."
Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring him that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without proper introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either side; and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in consequence, to begin the acquaintance. Mr. Collins listened to her with the determined air of following his own inclination, and, when she ceased speaking, replied thus:
"My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world in your excellent judgment in all matters within the scope of your limited female understanding; but permit me to say, that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the clergy; for, give me leave to observe that I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom, provided that a proper humility of behavior is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant guide, though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young lady like yourself."
And with a low bow he left her to address Mr. Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at being so addressed was very evident; almost is if one of the decorative plants or perhaps a chair had suddenly spoken. Her cousin prefaced his speech with a solemn bow and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words "apology," "Hunsford," and "Lady Catherine de Bourgh." It vexed her to see Mr. Darcy expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy's contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr. Collins then returned to Elizabeth with an air of pleased satisfaction.
"I have no reason, I assure you," said he, "to be dissatisfied with my reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment as to be certain she could never bestow a favor unworthily. It was really a very handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him."
Why… one almost could say that Mr. Darcy had… impugned his aunt judgment? That… could not be thought Elizabeth.
As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley; and the train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to, made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw Jane in idea settled in that very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection could bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances, of endeavoring even to attempt to like Bingley's two sisters; dispite her own misgivings and Illyana's harsh words. Her mother's thoughts she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to venture near her, lest she might hear too much.
Later, when they sat down to supper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed them within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find that her mother was talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) most freely, openly, and of nothing else but her expectation that Jane would soon be married to Mr. Bingley. It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the endless advantages of the match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three miles from them, were the first points of self- congratulation; and then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other men of significant means; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to consign her single daughters to the care of their now married sister, that she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on such occasions it is the etiquette; but no one was less likely than Mrs. Bennet to find comfort in staying home at any period of her life. She concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no chance of it occurring (which was rather rude).
In vain did Elizabeth endeavor to check the rapidity of her mother's words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper; for, to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her mother only scolded her for being nonsensical, and her subsequent words made the situation even worse.
"What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear."
"For heaven's sake, Mama, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing!"
Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity.
At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who had been long yawning at the repetition of family delights of which she saw no likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken. Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of tranquility; for, when supper was over, singing was talked of and it was time for the performance for which that she and her sisters had all been practicing; before the resumption of dancing once the meal had set.
First Miss Bingley had taken a turn at the piano, after a somewhat impassioned request from her brother. She had played and sung a most pleasant song. Then her sister had joined her in a duet. Two and done had been the plan and they had accepted their accolades as their due, for they were accomplished ladies as they were wont to remind.
Then it was the Bennet's turn. (Author's note: See the Disturbed version of the Sound of Silence on utube, great rendition of the song and will give an approximation as to the intensity of how the Bennets sang.)
Mary went and sat at the piano while the Bennet girls distributing themselves amongst the gathering; except for Illyana who had not part the recital. An unlit candle was before Mary that had previously placed there. The servants extinguished most of the candles, lanterns, and per instructions and drew the drapes. Conversation dwindled to silence and the group waited, most with trepidation as Mary had a reputation of being rather… painful to listen to in large gatherings.
"Just how bad will this be?" Was Miss Bingley's soft but sarcastic comment to Mr. Darcy who said nothing in return. A comment overheard by Illyana which prompted her to cross her fingers.
"Combat by other means." Whispered Mary to herself (a bit of Illyana's advice from practice). "Be passionate before precision. Make them feel…" was the other bit of advice. She briefly closed her eyes and then…
She began to play softly, gently, with but a few notes.
Then to sing, gently but firmly, with tones of loss and grief and dashed hopes. Slowly at first but then faster.
Mary:
Hello, darkness… my old… friend
I've come to talk with you… again
Because a vision softly creeping…
Left its seeds while I was… sleeping
She fell silent while still playing soft notes.
Each Bennet daughters now held up a lit candle and slowly started to walk in the direction of Mary while Kitty sang gently:
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound… of silence
Lydia now sang with a rising intensity.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
beneath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
Now Jane sang:
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a blinding light
That split… the night
And touched the sound …of silence
Now Elizabeth sang forth with even more intensity:
And in the naked light I saw…
Ten thousand people, maybe more…
People talking without… speaking…
People hearing without… listening…
At this point they had all gathered around Mary at the piano. Mary now sang with trembling intensity:
People writing… songs… that voices… never share
For no one dared
Disturb the sound…
All of them:
of silence…
Elizabeth now intently sang and used her candle to light Mary's candle
"Fools, said I, "You do not know…
Kitty sang and did likewise:
Silence, like pestilence, grows…
And then Lydia:
Hear my words that I might teach you…
Followed by Jane:
Take my arms that I might reach you…
Mary:
But my words… like silent… raindrops… fell!
And echoed in the wells… of silence!
Elizabeth with even more intensity:
And the people bowed and… prayed…
Kitty:
To the false God… they made…!
Lydia:
And the sign flashed out its warning…
Jane:
And the words that it was forming…
All:
And the sign said,
The words of the prophets are written... on the city's walls!
And tenement… halls.
And whispered… in the sound…
All the girls blew out their candles, now only Mary had a candle lit. She hammered passionately on the keyboard and sang the last words.
of… silence…
A few more dramatic piano strokes and as the notes died out she blew out her candle as well.
There was a stillness for a moment… then enthusiastic applause. A whispered comment from Mr. Darcy to Miss Bingley. "Most accomplished it would seem. I find myself … most pleased."
"An original composition." Observed Mr. Bingley. "I thought they all sang most passionately, especially Jane. She looked the picture of beauty."
Miss Bingley pointed out that… "There were flaws in the playing, several miss struck notes. A talented attempt, but flawed I must…"
"Nonsense." Spoke Mr. Wick who had briefly joined Mr. Darcy (they were members of the same fencing club). "Passion trumps… when the passion spills upon the audience. I for one would welcome more such flaws."
More may have been about to be said, but Mr. Bingley's sisters were hushed.
The Bennet daughters, other then Mary, now faded back about five feet and formed a row behind Mary as Mary began to play and sing a second song.. It was Scarborough Fair by P. Simon/A. Garfunkel. It was a soft song, almost whispered and the audience had to strain to hear. Mournful and filled with longing for something lost. The lyrics in () were song by the Bennet daughters exclusively while only Mary sang the primary lyrics.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
(On the side of a hill in the deep forest green)
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
(Tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground)
Without no seams nor needlework
(Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain)
Then she'll be a true love of mine
(Sleeps unaware of the clarion call)
Tell her to find me an acre of land
(On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves)
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
(Washes the ground with so many tears)
Between the salt water and the sea strand
(A soldier cleans and polishes a gun)
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather
(War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions)
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
(Generals order their soldiers to kill)
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather
(And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten)
Then she'll be a true love of mine
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
Once again she fell silent and once again the gathering expressed their great pleasure at the recital. There were cries for more but Mary demurred, remembering another piece of Illyana's advice "Always leave them wishing for more instead of less."
Mr. Darcy did make comment upon the conclusion to Illyana whom he had spied.
"Actual tears Miss Rasputin? I find myself surprised as your reputation is not one of such womanly expressions of emotion."
Illyana frowned and briefly did touch her cheeks with her right hand. Damp. Wet in fact with tears that she had shed unknowingly. She produced a handkerchief, embroidered with blazing red flames and a sword of burning intensity.
"I… am likewise surprised". Was her reply as she finished dabbing away the unrealized tears. She turned away and nobody heard her whisper as she remembered Cat but briefly, and what she has once been… "For she is the one true love of mine…" Aminor shudder as she closed her eyes, eyes that were suddenly… soft? Filled with humanity and emotion, filled with…love? And as she shuddered, a slight breeze flickered all the candles in the house.
When she opened them again, they were hard and without mercy. The moment had passed.
Part 21e: London, the location of the Machine
Professor Aida Durard looked with satisfaction upon the latest modification of the Machine. He had just installed a harmonic resonance adjuster, a component that looked like a glass globe containing an oddly shaped tuning fork within; roughly the size of his hand. The fork had suddenly started to vibrate which caused parts of the Machine to glow and emit sounds. He noted the time on his pocket watch. After a few seconds the vibrations ceased.
Most… odd. The harmonics had… changed. Which was not possible, one's spiritual resonance does not change, and yet…
Her's had. Just briefly, but it had. Yet another impossibility shown.
Durard hummed to himself with pleasure, once the Machine was ready and the power source placed within, why… what wonderful things would then be done. He made a note in the observational log as to what had happened and the time. Something must have happened at the ball and the Lord Commander would wish to know if there had been any effects here, assuming he noticed.
And too many uninitiated assistants had seen the odd behavior of the machine so best not to conceal it. This man Franklin was so much more observant then his idiotic predecessor, shame that the prior Lord Commander had passed as fooling him had been but a trivial achievement. Well, soon that would not matter and the great task would finally be at… hand.
Something caused Durard to chuckle as he wrote in the observational log.
Part 21f: The ball (Original Chap 18 of the real book)
Sadly, Mr. Collins now made an appearance and gave forth his most earnest, and unsought , opinion upon the topic to Mr. Darcy just as Elizabeth came within range.
"If I," said Mr. Collins, "were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman. I do not mean, however, to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The rector of a parish has much to do. In the first place, he must make such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making as comfortable and as secure as possible. And I do not think it of light importance that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards everybody, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connected with the family." And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech, which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. Many stared, many smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while his wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly, and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was a remarkably clever, good kind of young man.
To Elizabeth it appeared that first her Mother, and now Mr. Collins, had made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sister that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he must have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations, was bad enough, and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable. At least none of her sisters had made fools of themselves this night.
The rest of the evening brought Elizabeth little amusement. She was teased by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly to be by her side, and though he could not prevail on her to dance with him again, his presence, like the plague was how Illyana was later to describe it, put it out of her power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand up with somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room (or boy for that matter). He assured her, that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it; that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to her and that he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her the whole of the remainder of the evening. She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself.
She was at least free from the offense of Mr. Darcy's further notice; though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in it… and yet…
Some hours hence…
The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by a maneuver of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter of an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to see how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her sister scarcely opened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue, and were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing threw a languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which had marked their behavior to their guests. Why it reminded him of the events give by Lady Catherine De Bourgh, almost as splendid…
Darcy said nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of "Lord, how tired I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn. "I do hope we shall not be accosted by any undead as I am far too tired." Illyana sat on a bench stroking the before encountered black cat.
When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn, and addressed herself especially to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from London, which he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.
Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house under the delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and thought the man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.
Part 21g: Lord Commander
All the guests were gone and the household mostly asleep (apart from the servants that is, much cleaning needed to be done).
Franklin was sitting in a small private room. Present were Mr. Wick and two others. All were partaking of a particularly fine brandy.
Franklin at last spoke. "You cannot pluck roses without fear of thorns. She is well hid, and yet I could tell that the secret fire burns within her, as potent as the sun doth scorch the Sahara. Concealed from view but discernable to those in the know. She is the tool we need to redeem the world from this curse, but I find myself melancholy over what must be done."
He then recited a bit of verse he had once written.
Women are books, and men the readers be,
Who sometimes in those books erratas see;
Yet oft the reader's raptured with each line,
Fair print and paper, fraught with sense divine;
Tho' some, neglectful, seldom care to read,
And faithful wives no more than bibles heed.
Are women books? says Hodge, then would mine were
An Almanack, to change her every year.
Another sip. "I wish… but no. It is not to be. The world has no room for an old man's folly."
His tone turned harsh. "She is most embedded and protected here. I shall arrange for them to come to London. We must pry her out like the clam from its shell. And to do so we must disrupt the shell she resided within. You have your orders, make it so."
The next morning…
Two carriages departed to London, and with those departures went several stowaway cats as well. One left before breakfast, containing Mr. Franklin and Mr. Wick. The other left after a leisurely breakfast, it contained Mr. Bingley and… Mr. Darcy (which was not per the any prior plans.)
Plots were being crafted, but not all was to be as concealed as the crafters would have wished.
Addendum: 1937: National Portrait Gallery, London. An exposition on the Lady of Fire.
Item 2: The entrance of Jane by John Jackson. Chronologically this is a later work but documents an event that is quite early in the timeline of IRB. Jane Bennet (maiden name) is shown being presented at the ball held by Mr. Charles Bingley at the Netherfield family estate. Two years passed before the work was completed but its chronological depiction places it as the second piece in the exposition. The artist John Jackson was actually present at the ball making prelim sketches as he had been secretly commissioned by CB to create the work. The dark backgrounds emphasize the lighting upon JB shown with a romanticized Rembrandtish glow, note that the background crowd contains all of JB's sisters, including IRB. The fire motif is once again shown as background candle flames are interposed as earrings on IRB. The work shows all gazing approvingly upon the JB, apart from one somewhat indistinct man who instead gazes upon IRB. The likeness to Benjamin Franklin has been taken to be some sort of artist private joke that has yet to be deciphered. Work on loan from the Bingley Family estate.