Madam and Missy — A Pride and Prejudice Variation
This is dedicated to all the writers both here and on KU who've released their stories for free! As I enjoy reading them so much, I thought that I'd have a go, and here it is.
[Note that I'm a Brit, so have written with British spelling, punctuation and terminology ]
In which, oh, go on then, there is more bedevilment
Miss Bingley
An hour or so later, people started to gather in the parlour before dinner. Miss Bingley had paid special attention to her dress and was ready to fend off the wrinkled crone. She listened carefully from the hallway, pinned her arms tight to her sides and glided into the room.
There — there — was Eliza Bonnet! She had not imagined her laughter after all. There was the strumpet flirting shamelessly with Colonel Fitzwilliam. And next to her sat Jane Bonnet. Two Bonnets at Pemberley! No — this is too much. This will not be borne! Lifting her chin, she stalked over to them.
"Miss —sniff— Eliza, fancy seeing you here of all places."
With a laugh, the colonel pulled Elizabeth to her feet so that she could curtsey. "Oh, hello Miss Bingley. I knew not that you were come to Pemberley."
"It is well to see you," added Jane, standing to add her own curtsey.
"Yes, yes, but why are you here?" Miss Bingley was insistent and did not return the courtesy.
"Lady Anne was kind enough to invite us; and you, why are you here?"
Miss Bingley glanced at the colonel. She dared not claim a particular invitation from the Master of Pemberley in his cousin's hearing. "The Hursts and I were invited to spend the summer here."
"How lovely," said Jane. "Have you stayed here before?"
"Two summers ago," replied Miss Bingley, condescendingly.
"You are fortunate! Oh, to spend the summer in such a beautiful place, I envy you," Jane said with enthusiasm. "I wonder, would you be kind enough to show me some of your favourite parts of the gardens; perhaps on the morrow? It all looks so glorious that I should not care to miss anything."
Miss Bingley narrowed her eyes. No, Jane Bonnet could not be so devious.
"Colonel, I find myself to be confused," Elizabeth said, with a slight frown.
"Why is that, Lizzy?"
'Lizzy?'
"Did you not need rescuing from the peninsula two summers ago?"
The colonel tutted and clapped a hand to his chest. "No, no! That will not do! Please, please refrain from intimating to a King's cavalier that he needed rescuing! No, no, no." He shook his head. "To allay your confusion, though, I shall tell you what really happened. By chance, Darcy was aboard a ship bound for England with a spare hammock in his cabin, so I took the opportunity to travel back with him."
"My apologies, Colonel," replied the strumpet with a giggle. "Two summers ago, were you not on a swash-buckling adventure, sharing a cabin with Darcy?"
Jane giggled too.
"Aye, Lizzy, I was." He turned to look at Miss Bingley. His expression was cold. "Darcy was not here at Pemberley two years ago."
Miss Bingley swallowed. "Mayhap it was last summer. Time spent with dearest friends passes all too very quickly."
"And were you swash-buckling last summer, too?" asked Jane, with a puzzled frown.
"No, Darcy and I were racing about on horseback."
"Ah, yes. I never did hear the result of your contest to see if Ranunculus or Narcissus was the better horse," said Elizabeth.
Of what is she talking? Miss Bingley felt that the conversation had got away from her; she was neither at the centre of it nor did she know of what they were talking. She interjected with a sneering titter, "Miss —sniff— Eliza, you may not be aware that Darcy's horses are named after Roman gods, and neither Ranunculus or Narcissus are names of those gods."
"Darce!" called the colonel. "Come here and settle an argument!"
Miss Bingley donned her most charming and elegant expression and turned to face — Lady Prudence pushing in from behind Darcy.
No! No! I am not getting caught with her again! She shoved away from the newcomers, knocking Elizabeth over. The strumpet fell back onto the sofa and laughed as Darcy and the colonel each took a hand to pull her back to her feet. Miss Bingley watched, appalled, as the shameless hussy then held onto the arms of both men.
"Now, now, Busy Lizzy, this is not right. As I said to dear Miss Lineley-Bingle at my Harriet's ball, last week, last month, last year — whenever it was — you cannot have both of these distant nephews. Oh, that reminds me, dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle, I meant to ask you, did you ever get a response from my distant nephew, the arch-bishop? He did not reply to my query."
Miss Bingley ground her teeth, but could not reply as the butler announced that dinner was served. Hastily, she tried to take Darcy's spare arm to walk through to the dining room, but the old crone was quicker.
"You will have to faster than that to take young Darcy's arm, dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle!"
Blasted crone!
Miss Bingley reluctantly took the colonel's proffered arm; the hussy's sister was clinging indecorously to the other. Thank goodness that Charles saw through her arts and allurements. Urgh — I shall find him a bride much better placed to raise our status in society.
The colonel led her to her seat where she found herself to be surrounded by Bonnets! Five of them! She was between Eliza Strumpet and the plain sister, and opposite the eldest, the silly little flirt and the other one. Hell! This must be what hell is like!
A clawed hand grasped her shoulder. "This is not correct, dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle. As my companion, you should be next to me."
For the first time, Miss Bingley was inclined to agree with the old woman.
"Captain! Captain! Attend me!" Lady Prudence called down the table.
"Yes, grandmamma," replied the colonel, coming towards them.
"Captain, dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle should be sitting with me— "
Miss Bingley started to stand, but sank back in irritation as Lady Prudence continued,
" —so find Lizzy a new seat so that I can sit here. Put her in my place between you and young Darcy."
Miss Bingley watched, in impotent fury, as the colonel helped the strumpet to her feet and settled the dowager in her place.
They ate in relative peace until the final covers arrived, talking of the latest fashions, their long journeys to Pemberley, and what they hoped to do to amuse themselves. Miss Bingley, though cross to be surrounded by Bonnets, started to relax. She ought not have.
Lydia
"BON-JOUR MON-SIEUR!" Lady Prudence shouted at Mr. Gardiner, on her right. "HAVE YOU BEEN IN ENG-LAND LONG?" Lydia watched her turn back to Miss Bingley saying, not at all sotto voce, "You have to speak loudly to foreigners so that they can understand you. My French is excellent, but if he is to live here, he must learn to speak English. Do you not agree, dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle?"
Lydia was delighted to witness Lady Prudence's nonsense again. She held Kitty's hand tightly under the table to stop her from speaking without thought, murmuring in her ear, "Listen, Kitty. Do not speak! Just listen to Lady Pru!" As Kitty drew breath to speak, Lydia squeezed her hand. "Shh!"
Mr. Gardiner was responding, "Bonsoir, madame. J'ai vécu longtemps en Angleterre."
Lydia snorted. Excellent, uncle!
Lady Prudence looked at him blankly and nudged Miss Bingley. "Dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle, what did he say?"
As Miss Bingley appeared to be doing her utmost to ignore the dowager and did not reply, Lydia provided the answer, "He said that he has lived in England for a long time, my lady."
"Then why can he not speak English?"
Mr. Gardiner huffed and shrugged in an rather Gallic manner, and said, "Mais j'ai entendu dire que votre français est excellent, madame."
Lydia and her giggling sisters watched as Lady Prudence summoned a footman to help her to stand. "Dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle, you must give me your seat. This French tradesman is making advances to me and I am saving myself for Darcy."
"I am sure that Monsieur Jardinière did not mean to be rude, my lady," said Jane. "He said only that he had heard that your French was excellent."
Lydia was very impressed that her sister managed to say that with a straight face.
"Ah," the dowager retook her seat. "Why did he not say so in English?"
Lydia and Kitty put their heads together trying to conceal their mirth, covering their mouths with their napkins as Lady Prudence continued,
"YOU MUST SPEAK ENG-LISH, MON-SIEUR! ENG-LISH! I know not! These continentals come here with all of their lovely silk fabric — just like the orange that you wear, dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle, in the hope that it will come back into fashion." She tugged on Mr. Gardiner's sleeve. "MON-SIEUR! IS THIS O-RANGE," she pointed at Miss Bingley's dress, "THIS O-RANGE OF DEAR MISS LINE-LEY-BIN-GLE'S DRESS FROM YOUR SHOP? DO YOU UN-DER-STAND?"
It was too much for Lydia; her uncle had managed to look completely at sea, and Jane had joined Kitty and herself in their giggles.
"General! General! Attend me!" Lady Prudence bellowed.
Lydia saw Miss Bingley's eyes sweep the table. She wonders which man is the general!
"Yes, Imp," replied Lydia with a smirk, feeling Jane touching her arm in admonishment.
Miss Bingley's eyes narrowed so much that Lydia wondered if she could see at all.
"General, dear, ask the Frenchman if he has more of this orange silk." Lady Prudence grabbed a handful of Miss Bingley's skirt and waved it at Mr. Gardiner. "THIS COL-OUR! O-RANGE!"
Lydia complied and said to Mr. Gardiner, "Ce tissu orange? Avez-vous plus?"
"Non, il a trois ans, mademoiselle. Je suis désolé."
Lydia watched attempts at restraint in her neighbours' faces, when Lady Prudence trumpeted to Miss Bingley, "I find that I have taken a fancy to this Frenchie whispering his sweet nothings to me. If Darcy again denies me entrance to his chambers this evening, I might pay a visit to this young man instead. What think you, dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle; shall we compete for the Frenchie?"
"Non, non, madame! Ma femme, elle écoute!"
Oh, Uncle Gardiner is game!
"General! General! What did he say?"
"He says that his wife is listening," laughed Lydia.
"He is married! He is flirting with me and is married! How dare he!" The dowager thumped the table in indignation. "It is no wonder that we are at war with the Frenchies! Captain! Captain! Attend me!"
Lydia watched Jane's eyes follow Richard as he came towards them.
"Yes, Grandmamma, are you well?"
"No; yes; I know not. This Frenchie," she poked Mr. Gardiner in the arm with her spoon. "This Frenchie has been flirting with me, and when I suggested — very discreetly, you understand — a rendezvous — " She turned back to face Mr. Gardiner. "REN-DEZ-VOUS? DO YOU UN-DER-STAND REN-DEZ-VOUS?"
Mr. Gardiner gave another astonishingly Gallic shrug. "Mais, oui!"
"When I suggested a rendezvous, he confessed to being married!"
"I can see that he has offended you, Grandmamma. Would you like me to challenge him to a duel?"
Lydia shook her head in admiration of her uncle. How does he do it, she wondered. How does he play along with the Imp without laughing? And now he has gone pale as Richard suggested a duel. This must be why he has such a successful business.
"No, no!" The dowager pulled Richard closer as if to share a confidence, though the volume of her voice did not drop. "This tradesman is quite a flirt but does not speak French well enough for me to understand him — my French is excellent, as you know, Captain, but his, alas, is not. I cannot ask the General or any of these young ladies to translate — they are all spinsters, you know, and have no understanding of these matters."
"What would you have me translate for you?"
"Translate this into poor French, will you — not excellent French as he does not un-der-stand it." She used her spoon to poke Richard's stomach to make sure that he was attending.
"Into poor French," Richard agreed, obviously struggling to contain his own laughter. "Very well."
"And do not let his wife overhear!"
"Aye, of course not."
"Tell the Frenchie — do you need me to write this for you?" She looked around. "Dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle, do you know where they moved my daughter's writing desk to? They had to move it for the dancing."
Lydia watched Miss Bingley do her utmost to ignore the dowager.
"I can remember the message, Grandmamma. What would you like me to say to the monsieur?"
"Tell him, …"
The whole table was silent, waiting for Lady Prudence's message for Mr. Gardiner.
"Tell him that, if I am beaten in my attempt to compromise Darcy, tonight — and I am watching you, Busy Lizzy." She waved her spoon in Elizabeth's direction. "Tell him that he may come to my chambers."
"Non, non!" Mr. Gardiner did not wait for the translation into French, poor or otherwise; his retort was immediate. "C'est impossible! Je ne viendrai pas après Darcy; je ne viendrai pas après aucun homme!"
"Monsieur," began Richard, holding up his hands in a placating manner.
"Non! Non! Nommez vos armes!" Mr. Gardiner was standing, gesticulating in outrage.
"What did he say? General, what did he say?" demanded the dowager, querulously.
Lydia could not answer for laughter, but a voice came from behind her ladyship; Mrs. Gardiner had joined the fray. In a broad French accent, she said,
"My 'usband, 'e 'as challenged you, madame. You insult 'is honour saying 'e is not as good as Darcy! 'E is second to no man, so you must choose your weapons!"
"Oui! Je vous verrai à l'aube!"
"'E will meet you at dawn!"
"Oh, no, madame! That is no good! I am a gentlewoman and so do not rise before noon, NOT BE-FORE NOON, then I spend the afternoons bored by the local pheasants." Lady Prudence clutched Miss Bingley's arm. "You will be my second, dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle. We shall meet this dallying Frenchie after luncheon and our weapon of choice will be — spiteful gossip!"
Lydia and her sisters followed as Lady Anne rose to lead the laughing ladies through to the parlour leaving the men behind to their port and important political pontifications. As she left the dining room, she turned to see Elizabeth and Darcy exchanging fond looks as they parted, he kissing her hand, while many of the men were gathering around her uncle, clapping him on the back. Lady Prudence had a firm hold on Miss Bingley and appeared to be dictating tactics for the following afternoon.
Sir Thomas
The men gradually drifted to Darcy's end of the table, still congratulating Mr. Gardiner for his performance. Sir Thomas noticed that he was not the only man there still wiping away tears of laughter. The port made its way from Darcy to the bishop and the judge.
Matlock approached. "I must not offer to be your second, Gardiner, though I am sorely tempted. It would not do for my continued marital felicity to aid you against my wife's mother!"
Mr. Featherstone-Haugh passed the port to Mr. Hurst.
"Lady Prudence has the best — worst? — gossip, my sister-in-law, as her second," added Mr. Hurst. "I believe that all is lost!"
"Now, now, Hurst," Matlock continued. "Just because I cannot offer myself as Gardiner's second, it does not mean that I cannot help supply the ammunition."
The port reached the viscount and started on its return to Darcy.
Sir Thomas watched as Mr. Hurst's expression cleared.
"Of course; Chatsworth!"
"Yes, you have it, man; Chatsworth!" Matlock pounded Mr. Hurst on his back, spilling his port.
"What about Chatsworth?" asked Mr. Gardiner.
"Gather closely," replied Matlock. "Hurst, here, has a story to tell."
Richard was pouring himself a second glass when, a few minutes later, a huge roar of laughter resounded about the dining room.
When the merriment calmed, Sir Thomas said that they, too, had had an eventful journey. "It was nothing compared to Chatsworth, but a journey which should have taken no more than three or four days took several months." He sighed and shook his head. "Do not hope for haste when travelling with five, no six, expectant wives."
The men chuckled in anticipation.
"We should barely have started travelling, when one of the ladies would beg for us to stop. We would board the carriages again and, not five minutes later, another would demand a stop."
The port bottle continued its passage clockwise around the table.
"Then, when we eventually reached an inn, they would all walk in together, looking rather like a flotilla."
The men laughed at this image.
"It will not surprise you that, after resuming our journey, one of them could wait no more than a quarter of a mile, before bidding us to stop." Sir Thomas shook his head. "Then then children would demand to get out and run about each time. We had to stop at every village and town for a look around. 'Oh, look at that pretty little church!' 'Shall we stop and have a look at it?'" He sighed dramatically. "It would have been quicker to walk!"
Matlock had been counting. "You said six, six ships in the flotilla. I can see five fortunate men here, so who is the sixth?"
"My valet, Stevens," Darcy supplied.
The bishop's eldest son, John, cleared his throat. "I can launch another ship to join the fleet."
Hearty congratulations flowed, and the conversation turned to plans for the following week.
Lydia
Lydia sat with Kitty listening to Lady Prudence interrogating Miss Bingley for details of spiteful gossip to use in her forthcoming duel.
"Make it up, dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle, is that not what gossips usually do?"
"My lady, I do not gossip," Miss Bingley said, primly.
"Then, what do you do when not polishing your accomplishments?" Lady Prudence caught Lydia's eye before adding, "Do you find bees wax to work best or do you prefer a different receipt?"
Although forewarned, Lydia still snorted.
"My lady, I do not gossip," Miss Bingley repeated.
"So you say, dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle," Lady Prudence said. She continued in a sterner tone, "But when you loudly state that Miss Busy Lizzy Elijah Bonnet has natural twin daughters, are you not gossiping?"
Kitty whispered in Lydia's ear, "Why does Miss Bingley dislike Lizzy so?"
Belying her claims to deafness, the dowager replied, "Oh, very, very, very distant niece, you are quite, quite mistaken; dear Miss Lineley-Bingle does not dislike Lizzy, she is but afraid that she will compromise Darcy before her."
"What do you mean?" asked Lydia.
"Oh, did I not tell you, General, that dear Miss Lineley-Bingle and I are competing to see which of us shall compromise Darcy first." Lady Prudence stood and bellowed to the whole room, "Distant nieces! Very distant nieces! And very, very distant nieces! Attend me!"
The chatter died away and the ladies turned to face the dowager.
"Those of you who arrived today may not be aware that dear Miss Lineley-Bingle and I are competing to see which of us shall compromise young Darcy first."
Disbelieving laughter eddied around the parlour.
"Dear Miss Lineley-Bingle failed on her first try, as Peters — a tolerably handsome footman — caught her attempting to gain entrance at young Darcy's chambers. The following night, last night, I bribed Peters and arrived at Darcy's door first, but the young scamp had locked it."
The listeners chuckled lightly.
Lady Harriet stood to join her mother. "The whole party is betting on who will succeed. Mother and Miss Bingley now know each other's strategies, so we were hoping that some of you newly-arrived ladies might wish to throw your caps in."
Embarrassed refusals followed.
"Lizzy! Are you not tempted?" cried Lydia.
"Oh, yes, Lizzy," said Lady Harriet. "You would be a worthy opponent."
"Indeed," added Lady Prudence. "My victory would much the sweeter for vanquishing you!"
Lydia joined her sisters, Georgiana and Charlotte as they clustered around Elizabeth. They whispered to one-another, looking over at Lady Prudence and Miss Bingley now and then, as if assessing them. Lydia kept a tight hold on Kitty's hand to stop her from speaking unadvisedly.
"We should like to know the terms of the contest," Charlotte turned from her step-daughters to speak to Ladies Prudence and Harriet.
"Tempted to join us, eh, Lady Step-Notte?"
"No," laughed Charlotte. "If I am to agree to my step-daughter taking part, I must know the rules."
"There are no rules!" cried Miss Bingley.
"No rules? Then how should we know if someone has succeeded?" Charlotte pressed them for an answer.
"'Tis a fair question, Mother," said Lady Harriet. "If your distant nephews are betting on this, then there ought to be rules."
Lady Prudence hmphed. "Very well," she said reluctantly. "The winner is the first to spend all night in Darcy's chamber."
Lydia snorted as Charlotte asked, "Are there to be witnesses to this?"
"Yes, Lady Step-Notte, I suppose that there must be. The winner must be seen in Darcy's chamber." In thought, Lady Prudence strode to and fro, then pulled on her daughter's sleeve and added, "I have it, she must be seen by one of the other challengers!"
All of the Bennets giggled and clung to each other as Elizabeth then asked, "Is Darcy to be in the chamber, also?"
"Harriet! Daughter! Why did you invite Busy Lizzy to enter this competition? She is asking awkward questions!"
Lady Anne joined the fray. "As much as I care not for you competing for my son, I propose that the rules are thus: to spend the night with him, whether in his own chambers or elsewhere. Both he and the winner must be seen by at least two others or by another challenger."
The Bennets huddled together to discuss this.
"What is the prize?" Jane asked the question. "If there is to be a competition, there ought to be a prize for the winner."
"To be Mistress of Pemberley, of course!" Miss Bingley snapped.
"Mmm; to be Mistress of Pemberley?" Elizabeth said as if considering. "Indeed, that is a prize worth having."
The sisters gathered again, murmuring.
"We should like to know if there is a time limit," Georgiana piped up.
Lady Prudence shook her head in despair. "In my day, when I wore that colour orange that dear Miss Lineley-Bingle is determined to return to fashion, we entered the gentleman's rooms and cried 'Compromise!' and that was that." She turned to Miss Bingley and continued, "It was an Earl's rooms in my day, but you un-der-stand, do you not, dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle?"
"By Friday?" Lady Anne suggested.
The Bennets had another animated, whispered consultation.
"We are in agreement," said Charlotte.
"Dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingle?"
Miss Bingley's grasp on sanity appeared to be slipping: she nodded.
"Aunt Prudence?"
"That gives me but two nights, distant niece," sighed Lady Prudence. "Very well, by Friday."
Elizabeth
"So, I am determined to win!" Elizabeth told Darcy, much later in her chambers.
"Indeed! If I am to be the prize, I must know, will you deploy fowl means?" He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"You, my dearest cockerel, are not the prize — the winner is to be Mistress of Pemberley!" She patted him fondly on the cheek.
"But is not the mistress wed to the master?" He kissed her temple.
"Aye, I expect so, but dear Miss —sniff— Lineley-Bingley— "
Darcy snorted. "It is a shame that Miss Bingley does not recognise the honour of being renamed by my distant aunt, Busy Lizzy!" He trailed kisses down her cheek.
"Heavens! She is so quick, is she not? She can take the smallest, most insignificant trifle and turn it into a jest."
He laughed, kissing her cheek. "Indeed! It is not for nothing that Lady Prudence is known as the Imp!"
"I find that I am much in admiration of her."
"And I find that I am in admiration of you!" Darcy kissed her neck.
"William, I must stop you there," Elizabeth said, pulling away from him a little.
"Why?" His brows furrowed.
"If you would wait but a few minutes, I should like to reassure myself that Melissa and Phoebe are settled in their new nursery. I shall not be able to give you all of my attention if I am at all worried."
Darcy nodded ruefully. "I shall come with you."
"That is exactly what I had hoped that you would say. Let us bid our daughters sweet dreams before my competitors start rattling the door handles."
In which the author:
• hopes that you got that Ranunculus or Narcissus are the botanic names for buttercup and daffodil, respectively
• admits to being dead chuffed with the 'French' section, even though the rest of the chapter is preposterous
• admits to failing her French exam all those many years ago — good ol' online translation, eh?
Please don't copy!