A/N: Welcome back to my loyal readers and a hearty welcome to new ones!
We all love ye-olde compromise trope, even though we all suspect the whole scheme is full of logical holes and probably not really a thing anyway. I think nearly every JAFF author has taken a crack at it in some form or other, and many of my personal favourites use it. I've written 3-5 myself, depending on how you count them. The most notable is "Til Death Us Do Part".
I've dreamed up lots of admittedly silly plot bunnies that are all short (5-10k). Let's see how you like them.
One small note: I generally strive for third person POV, but I'm making at least some of these omniscient.
Wade
—
In this first story, we find an unlikely culprit, a clever invention and an even unlikelier ally attempting to prevent ruining a family's reputation.
"AAHHHNNNGGG!"
Elizabeth Bennet's eyes snapped opened as she emitted a muffled scream in panic. It took a few seconds to realize her shoulder was being shaken lightly rather than torn off by a bear, and she actually heard, "Miss Elizabeth, pray wake up," rather than a menacing growl.
Her fourth night at Netherfield should have been more restful than the earlier ones spent mostly taking care of her sister Jane, but the short nights in her sister's room, alternating with the disagreeable company left her tired and bad tempered. Waking up in the dead of night when she believed Jane fully recovered added to her panic.
With her wits barely recovered, she looked to her companion in confusion, wondering why a servant was not sent to awaken her—not that she expected it would have worked out any better.
Her confusion complete, she belatedly asked, "Miss Bingley? What is happening?" with a voice far closer to a squeak than she might prefer.
Her companion shushed her to demand silence. "Miss Elizabeth, I need your help on a matter of utmost importance. If we do not act immediately, it will have a profound effect on your family's respectability and will do mine no good either."
Almost fully succumbing to panic, she demanded, "I do not understand. What could you possibly mean?"
Looking shocked, her companion said, "Minutes ago, I observed your sister entering Mr Darcy's room. I can only assume she intends to force a compromise."
The fog of sleep cleared almost immediately, but several nights with little rest still left Elizabeth not really thinking clearly.
"I cannot believe that of Jane. It is impossible!"
"Not to put too fine a point on it, but how old is your sister? How long has she been in society? How close is she to being on the dreaded shelf? Whose idea was it for her to come on horseback in the rain, and if she did not take credit for it, can you be certain she did not encourage the scheme?"
Elizabeth just stared in horror at the machinations her companion imagined for her sweetest sister, but she did have to admit there was a certain amount of panic setting in about the Bennet's marital prospects. It was possible Jane thought seven years was long enough to wait for her perfect man and decided rich and handsome was good enough. She could not believe it—but could not entirely disprove the thesis without speaking to Jane. She could also not answer to why Mr Darcy would be chosen over the obviously more malleable Mr Bingley; but facts were facts and Miss Bingley saw what she saw.
Panic was well and truly setting in. "What do you suggest?"
"Let us rescue Miss Bennet before she ruins your whole family. Mr Darcy is famous for sleeping like the dead. If we go together, there is no chance anybody could be compromised as we could give a reasonable accounting for our presence if discovered, and we could chaperone each other. You can quietly talk Miss Bennet out of the room with none the wiser."
Elizabeth started feeling slightly suspicious. "Why are you taking charge personally? Why help us from our own folly?"
"A compromise in my house will sully my reputation. I will not be ruined as badly as you and your sisters, but even a failed compromise under my roof will hurt me in town. You have no idea how well-known Mr Darcy is. I doubt you want your names in the tittle-tattle sheets as failed adventuresses, while I am trying to enter the first circles and cannot afford any scandal."
Despite being scared fully awake, Elizabeth was still not thinking as clearly as she hoped, but the problem seemed simple enough. Apparently, Jane was tired of waiting. She had endured a dozen suitors over seven years in society, most of whom abandoning her when they spent any time in the presence of Mrs Bennet. Perhaps she was desperate.
Elizabeth signalled for her companion to turn around so she could get out of bed and put on her dressing gown. It was at least properly modest, unlike the diaphanous concoction Mrs Bennet sent Jane. Imagining Jane wandering around in her own room wearing the ridiculous garb just about made Elizabeth shiver, and that was without even considering Mr Darcy.
With panic setting in, she put on her slippers and stood up. "Lead the way."
Elizabeth approached Mr Darcy's door like a prisoner walking to the gallows, but her companion said, "Courage, Miss Elizabeth. It will all be over soon."
Miss Bingley opened the door without knocking for obvious reasons, then gestured for Elizabeth to walk ahead, apparently believing Jane would be less likely to scream when she saw her sister.
Miss Bingley had the only candle, and it was far from sufficient to illuminate the room. All she could see was the bed curtains were closed, and Jane was not visible.
"Jane," she whispered as quietly as she could several times without response. She could not imagine Jane went to sleep and she had hearing to rival an owl, so Elizabeth could not account for her silence.
A few seconds later, she let out a startled scream as the door slammed shut behind her, the lock clicked, and the room was plunged into darkness. The curtains were open so she could see a little bit by moonlight, but the bed was nothing but a darker pool in the overall darkness.
"Who goes there?" she heard a man's strident voice demanding.
In a panic, she could only manage to squeak, "Jane? Jane?"
"What are you doing in my room? You should know I am impervious to compromise attempts. ANSWER ME!"
Elizabeth was terrified to learn Mr Darcy could be even more fearsome and disagreeable than usual. As her mind started slowly noticing details, she determined the man had yelled at her without raising his voice. It was admittedly a useful technique if your objective was to frighten someone to death without bringing the whole house down. It certainly worked on her, as it reduced her to a blubbering mess.
She saw the darkness of the bed curtains slide aside, and what looked like the bear she feared when Miss Bingley woke her, but she still could not make herself speak.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here? Whatever the scheme is, it has failed."
Still unable to think, she timidly squeaked out, "Jane?"
The vague shape that was apparently Mr Darcy put on a banyan, which made her momentarily wonder what he was wearing when he left the bed.
She barely managed to get her trembling under control enough to ask, "Mr Darcy, is my sister in this room?"
She saw the shadow of the bear shake his massive head, and ask in confusion, "Miss Elizabeth?"
Finally coming off her first panic long enough to engage in her second, far worse one, she said, "Please, Mr Darcy. There has been some sort of mistake."
He chuckled menacingly. "Yes, I fear there has. How did you unlock the door? Pray, explain yourself!"
He was obviously still angry, but not as much as before. He reminded her very much of her Uncle Gardiner when he was in a take charge mood. She very much hoped the man could take charge and find a way out of the mess.
"Mr Darcy, I fear I stuck my leg in a bear trap. I swear to you I did not come here to accost you."
"Why are you here?"
"I thought I came here to rescue my sister from her own stupidity, but as it turns out, I am the stupid one," she said, hanging her head in shame though he was unlikely to see it.
He sounded impatient. "Look, Miss Elizabeth. I cannot just throw you from the room as I am tempted to do, but I need to understand what is happening and we have little time. Please explain… succinctly!"
"I should have known not to trust that woman," Elizabeth moaned in self-reproach.
"Succinct!" he growled.
She sighed. "Miss Bingley dragged me from a deep sleep a quarter-hour ago and told me she personally saw Jane enter this room. She convinced me the two of us might extract her quietly without waking you, and the whole thing could be hushed up as if it never happened."
"Is your sister the sort of woman to do that?"
"No, no, no, never! She is the best person I ever met, but the idea Miss Bingley would lie to my face on such an important matter never occurred to me in my sleep-addled state. I swear I would have seen through her ruse almost any other time."
"All right… I will provisionally accept the events. What was the plan?"
"The two of us were to enter together, so even if we were caught it would not be truly improper. The mistress checking on a guest with a chaperone in tow is very close to the edge of impropriety, but not quite over the line. She thought I could bring Jane out without making too much fuss. As soon as I got a few feet in front of her, she slammed and locked the door on her way out."
"I see," he said, moving towards the banked fire.
A moment later, a candle came to life, and she got a good look at him. His frown could be carved onto masks to frighten naughty children, but he at least looked thoughtful.
He walked quickly to stand in front of her a few feet away. "I assume you understand we are the victims of a nefarious plot. Everything from the timing of waking you to the almost credible story points to an attempt to compromise you. We have very little time before the door opens again under some pretence."
"But why?" she asked plaintively and with complete confusion. "Miss Bingley has obviously set her cap for you. How would having you be compromised by me help her case?"
She noticed he kept looking at the door and back, which did nothing to reduce her nervousness.
He ignored her question. "I believe I can get us out of this, but you need to trust me."
Elizabeth did not like the sound of that but saw few choices when Miss Bingley was no doubt right outside the locked door.
"A drowning person does not quibble about the quality of the log that saves them," she sputtered nervously.
She managed to refrain from squeaking when he grabbed her hand and yanked her towards what seemed to be his dressing room. They entered and marched over to the corner where she found the most enormous traveling trunk she ever saw.
He approached relentlessly, opened the lid, and pointed. "In you go!"
"You cannot be serious!"
"Do you want your sisters to die spinsters or married? Or look at it another way. In your ongoing contest with Miss Bingley, do you want her to win or lose? Victory is in the trunk and defeat out here. Make your choice but make it quickly."
She was uncertain whether self-interest coupled with sisterly affection, or desire for retribution was stronger. In the end, his scheme seemed obvious. He was clearly unwilling to marry her under a cloud of scandal, but honourable enough to attempt a rescue. If she was in the trunk, she was not in the room, and she could not imagine anyone who would look. Decision made, she scrambled in with visions of sneaking into Caroline Bingley's room and shaving her bald once the debacle was all done.
The trunk was tight but entirely manageable until Mr Darcy said, "Slide forward," imperiously.
She complied in complete confusion, wondering what else he could possibly want to put in the trunk with her, and gasped in shock when he climbed in to sit behind her with his legs straddling her waist, blew out the candle, pulled the lid closed, and clicked two locks.
"Mr Darcy, what is the mean…" she started to ask, but was stopped by his hand over her mouth, accompanied by his voice an inch from her ear whispering, "Shhhhhh…."
A moment later, she understood the need for stealth when she heard the door open with another bang, and the screeching voice of Miss Bingley.
"Mr Darcy… Mr Darcy… there is a fire. You need to leave right awa…?"
She was amused to hear the so-called lady's voice strangle off in confusion, right in the middle of the speech, but it did not last long.
"Where is he? I am excessively worried."
She heard a footman she did not recognize. "He is not here, ma'am."
"He must be! I said good night to him right outside this door not an hour ago. Perhaps he already succumbed to the smoke."
"Perhaps the servant's door, ma'am?" he suggested helpfully.
"This suite does not have one," she said, sounding annoyed that her brother took such an unsuitable house.
"Shall I check the dressing room, ma'am?"
"Yes," she said in obvious exasperation.
A moment later, the trunk lit up and Elizabeth began to worry she might be caught even more in flagrante with Mr Darcy."
As she drew a panicked breath, she felt his arms cross in front of her chest and pull her closer. He did not put his hand over her mouth again (probably wishing to keep all his fingers).
Once Elizabeth was pulled closer to him than she had ever been to any man in the entire course of her life, she heard him whisper softly in her ear, "Be easy. They will not see us."
With her panic reduced, she saw the light was indirect and it started making sense. This trunk was the man's lifeboat. It clearly needed air holes so he would not suffocate, but they were covered so nobody could see through them. She had at first grown righd as a board when he pulled her into his chest, but she could not maintain such a pointless effort forever, so she relaxed into him slightly.
"Good" she heard him whisper and had to wonder if Mr Darcy kept an amiable copy of himself in the trunk for such occasions, because the bear was certainly absent.
She heard the footmen and Miss Bingley search the room far longer than it could possibly be of any use, and finally left with another resounding slam.
With a deep sigh, Elizabeth asked, "Mr Darcy, should we leave now?"
"Not yet. Miss Bingley has bet too much on this gambit. She will be back."
"How will we know when it is safe?"
"My valet will work it out. For the moment, we simply need to remain out of sight. Her use of the 'fire' ruse was a mistake. People panic when they hear about fire, so the usual idiots will assume you are cowering in fear somewhere while I am out doing manly heroic acts of some sort."
She giggled, far too much like Lydia, and thought this Mr Darcy was not such an ogre as she believed. She wondered which version would emerge from the trunk.
He said, "While we wait, perhaps I should explain."
"I wish you would. If Miss Bingley wants to trap you herself, I cannot imagine why she would try to compromise you with me. It makes no sense."
"Ahh… that is because you do not inhabit my circles. If you did, you would see she is probably being strategic, while you are thinking tactically."
"Care to explain?"
"It will be my privilege. You see, I assume you know how compromises work?"
"Yes, my mother has been drilling it into our heads from a young age. Much to my chagrin she warns us against being in improper situations with unworthy gentlemen, while hinting it might not be quite so bad with one who is."
She wondered what in the world was making her so forthcoming, but compared to being nestled snugly in his arms, in her nightclothes, in a locked trunk, in his dressing room, in someone else's house; it seemed a small point. She was clearly double, triple, quadruple compromised, but found the experience so overwhelming she had no panic left. There seemed little doubt the taciturn Mr Darcy possessed far more depths than she gave him credit for, and his foresight was certainly something to be admired.
"For me personally, the idea has always been repulsive," she continued. "For an accidental compromise, two people's lives can be ruined by a quirk of fate, or something as simple as a harmless fall, or worse-yet, a gallant rescue. For deliberate compromises, the best you can hope for is to be chained to your life to a man who hates you… assuming he does his so-called duty in the first place. Men are seldom punished if they elect not to take up the yoke."
He sighed. "Yes and no. Society considers a woman 'tainted' if she is compromised, and the taint sticks to her female relatives for no apparent reason. It is also true that a man can walk away without much penalty… unless he has a sister. A sister can be considered tainted by any impropriety in her relations, even if it is with a man."
"The whole thing seems unfair."
"That it is. So is war, weather, rich and poor, and a lot of other ills of society. We must live with the world we are given."
She sighed along with him. "You still have not explained Miss Bingley's motivation."
Darcy chuckled, and unless she was mistaken, he pulled her slightly tighter to his chest. She was not certain if she liked the feeling of safety or hated the impropriety more, but there seemed little she could do about it either way.
Darcy settled back a little bit more, pulling her with him.
"It started when I entered society. You know some people like Bingley—and you for that matter—have a natural talent for interacting with people. I do not… and before you chastise me that I just need to practice more, let me state that the first compromise attempt on me happened at my first society ball. Bingley saved me that time and I have a half-dozen close friends who watch my back. When I came out of mourning for my father, society judged me rich as Croesus, already inheriting, and lacking any meddling in-laws. It was like waving bloody red meat before a pack of wolves…"
She heard him gulp in mortification and being so intimately connected to him let her know that he was embarrassed by the indecorousness of the analogy.
"Mr Darcy, I appreciate you not treating me like a nickninny. Please continue. Speak to me as if I was a grown woman or one of your close friends. I am not delicate and will not be offended."
She felt him relax, then squeeze in acknowledgement, which she had to admit was… pleasant?
"In desperation, I invented something I call 'compromise insurance'. Are you familiar with the idea of insurance?"
"Yes. My father carries life insurance so we will not actually starve in the hedgerows when he dies, but it is impossible to explain it to my mother… though to be fair to her, I doubt he ever tried. It is essentially a bet with an insurance company that you will live another year."
"I am surprised. I was led to believe he was an indolent man."
"Oh, he is… that is just the easiest way he could dream up to keep us from abject poverty after his death since the estate is entailed. The amount he carries will elevate us all the way to genteel poverty, but I suppose it is an improvement."
He nodded but refrained from comment on her father's indolence. "My invention is similar. I was tired of the compromise attempts, so I tainted the meat, so to speak."
"How so?" she asked, becoming more curious by the minute.
"Before I explain, are you aware of the scourge of gambling in the upper classes."
"I have heard it is fearsome."
He frowned, and she was surprised she could detect it pressed against his chest in the pitch-black.
"In the upper circles, it is insane. I once saw an estate larger than Longbourn change hands over a cockroach race. Great fortunes change hands and families are ruined every day."
"All right… this is getting interesting," she admitted, with more enthusiasm than she would have expected.
"One night, about a month into the season after my mourning for my father, I went into Whites and laid a bet… a large bet. That is my invention: compromise insurance."
"Do tell," she said, her interest increasing to the level of fascination.
"I wagered if I found myself in a forced compromise, I would not offer marriage. Instead, I would let the lady and her family face their ruin. If I did the supposedly honourable thing and married her, I lose; if I walked away, I win. Then I made certain the bet was well-known everywhere. With the way gossip travels, I am surprised you never heard of it."
Elizabeth gasped at the… the… the… she could not work out a word to describe the scheme. Perhaps some combination of 'genius', 'dastardly', 'arrogant', 'brutal' and two or three others she could not immediately come up with.
She detected he was waiting for a response. "I can see how it would work. A compromise attempt is already very risky, but you marked the cards and loaded the dice."
"Exactly."
She was still grappling with the whole concept. "How much did you wager?"
"£30,000—the same as my sister's dowry."
She gasped in shock at the amount while he continued. "It needed to be enough to hurt, but something I could afford. My opponents wager I am too honourable to allow a woman to be ruined, since I have a well-earned reputation as a fair and honourable, though taciturn and awkward man."
"So, if Miss Bingley catches me, it will cost you £30,000 if you choose to rescue my honour. That is fifteen years income for Longbourn!"
He chuckled. "You make a common mistake for people not familiar with gambling. The difference is double the wager! If I am publicly compromised, I have the choice of gaining the full wager or losing it. In effect, it would cost me £60,000 to offer for you."
Elizabeth started shivering uncontrollably, which was only stopped when he pulled her even tighter to his chest in sympathy.
"I understand why Miss Bingley might take the chance to destroy what she may erroneously think of as competition, but I still do not see how she thinks it brings her closer to marriage to you. I say erroneously because I cannot imagine you marrying either of us. I have no fortune, no connections, and a frankly ridiculous family. She is the daughter of a tradesman… aside from being a nasty piece of work."
Darcy laughed hard enough that she could feel him shaking, and Elizabeth felt somewhat proud of herself for matching his earlier vulgarity. The need to act with decorum had been relentlessly drilled into their heads from an early age, and it was refreshing to let it all go for once, since decorum had been thrown out the window long ago.
"I can see two paths that may have led to her actions," he finally said. "In the first, if she could convince me she was not involved—which she is arrogant enough to believe—she could eliminate you and your sister from her plans for Bingley and me. She probably has some scheme in mind to look the conquering heroine in the end."
"Risky… but I suppose her danger is manageable. She no doubt has witnesses to vouch for her presence elsewhere. In the worst case, from her perspective, you have nothing but my word to go on, and our mutual animosity is well enough known to make her confident of success."
She was surprised to feel him stiffen so thought it probably best to soften the blow.
"Of course, you acting the perfect combination of dashing hero and perfect gentleman tonight has eliminated the antagonism on my side entirely."
Sounding less sure of himself than ever, he asked, "I did not realize we had any mutual animosity."
She shrugged, assuming he could feel it. "I suppose it was mostly one-sided. It hurt to be slighted by a handsome man at that first assembly, and I never quite let go of it until tonight. No woman likes to be called 'tolerable', whether she is handsome or not."
She felt his had nod, and he was silent for some time before saying, "I owe you an enormous apology for that night… and an explanation, though the latter must wait for another day."
"I would like that," she said, surprised to find she was looking forward to the discussion, very much against her previous expectations. "Shall we return to the topic at hand. You surmised two possible reasons for Miss Bingley's interference."
"I believe it could be a flaw in the design of my insurance plan. You see, it depends on the honour of the wagerers. While most would consider it a mortal sin to cheat or fail to pay a bet, not all are above a few marks on the cards. My bet was for £30,000 but to get it that high I had to bet £5,000 with six different men. Any one of them might have paid off Miss Bingley. They need not even offer her money. Simply offering to introduce her to high-status people might be enough for her."
Elizabeth nodded. "A possible third reason is that she is simply an uncommonly unpleasant shrew who had the opportunity for mischief and took it, but I always thought her more calculating than that."
"I concur."
"MR DARCY" they heard a shout calculated to raise the dead, but this time without the warning of a banging door. It seemed Miss Bingley had decided sneakiness was the order of the day.
Elizabeth tensed up as light played across the trunk momentarily and was only moderately surprised to see her hands grasped firmly in Mr Darcy's. It was a tense, high-stakes game they were playing.
A few minutes later the light went away, but it was only gone a moment before it was replaced by a stronger one.
"Mr Darcy, you can come out now," she heard from an unknown male voice.
"My valet," Darcy whispered in her ear, then louder, "Are we alone, Smithson? We have a slight… complication."
"Yes sir."
Elizabeth heard the latches open, and another moment found the lid opened as well. She was entirely surprised by her reluctance to flee what had become a sort-of haven but needs must.
Once they were standing facing each other, Darcy asked, "Where am I purported to be?"
"Out to check on the stables, sir."
"And Miss Elizabeth?"
"I overheard Miss Bennet asking about her and suggested she may have gone outside with the alarm. She seemed clever enough to take my meaning and told Miss Bingley she went out after waking her."
"So, we only need to get her back to her room discreetly?"
"I have arranged the route. I only suspected she was here but thought to cover all contingencies."
"As always," he said, and looked at her wistfully. "I suppose you must go."
"I suppose so, but before I go, can I ask how your bet ends? Is there an exit that does not involve fortunes being made or lost?"
He chuckled, and she had to admit he was devilishly handsome when he smiled. Perhaps they could be friends after their shared experience.
"It has an exit clause. If I meet a lady and properly and publicly court her for six weeks before asking for her hand, the bet is cancelled nine months after the wedding if there are no early surprises."
Elizabeth reddened at the last clause, but after spending an hour in a box with the man, her normal shyness was exhausted. "I hope you can do so soon, sir. You have shown yourself to be a true gentleman."
He chuckled again for no apparent reason, and asked, "Do you remember the discussion of Bingley's ball?"
"Yes, of course. As you well know, a ball is always a subject which makes a lady energetic," she said with a smile.
"He is planning to hold it on the 26th of November at my specific suggestion."
"I… see?" she said in confusion, though she could hardly understand the change of subject.
"We met on the 15th of October… the night I stuck my foot squarely in my mouth at that blasted assembly."
"I suppose," she said, even more confused, and not even noticing the minor bout of cursing.
He leaned most disconcertingly close, and it somehow felt even more intimate than being held against his chest and gave her a dazzling smile. "Do you see the connection?"
"I fear I do not," she said, and looked down in some embarrassment, though she had no idea what she had to be mortified about.
He was having none of that and used his knuckle to lift her chin to look directly into his eyes again from a foot away.
"There are exactly six weeks between those days."
With a slight gasp she stared hard, wondering if he meant what he was implying.
"Miss Elizabeth, within the constraints of my insurance policy, may I ask you to open the ball with me."
"It will be my pleasure," she replied breathlessly.
"And the supper set?"
"Yours," she said with just a hint of a smile.
"And the last?"
"Of course," she replied with an even larger smile, and even managed to reach up to graze her fingers down his cheek. She thought a kiss might be very nice but had no idea if that would void his bet or not.
"One last thing," he said with a smile. "If our luck had run out, and we were discovered, I would have married you and paid the penalty happily. I have hoped to have you as my wife for some time… but if you have no objections, I prefer to have both you and our money."
With that she burst out laughing and he joined. Sometime later it had descended to giggling, which he ended quite efficiently by giving her a kiss that made her toes tingle and her knees buckle. It also made her wonder if she would ever be able to survive the six weeks until her wedding day without another trip to the magical trunk.
~~ Finis ~~