I love Mrs Bennet's lack of shame, directness and social fearlessness and I believe she is often portrayed too negatively. Thus, I wanted to give her a bit of a stage. Also, I wanted to let this plot bunny loose.
If anybody is interested in beta-reading: This is my first own text and English is not my native language. I would appreciate having some pointers about my writing, where the story feels rushed or falls flat, where I expressed myself strangely or made errors or did not manage to stick to British English.
I hope you have as much fun reading this story as I had writing it!
It was a peaceful autumn morning at Longbourn. Birds were singing, bees were humming and a soft breeze was blowing through the yellowing leaves of the lindens framing the estate's entrance. A gardener was sweeping up the fallen leaves in the yard, whistling merrily to himself.
Suddenly, a screeching from inside the house disturbed this idyllic scene. „Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet's cry could be heard far and wide. „Come back here this instant! I am not done talking to you!"
A ruckus rose in the house and soon afterwards, Longbourn's dignified front door slammed open in a very undignified manner.
A young woman, Lizzy, rushed down the steps, tying her bonnet beneath her chin while running towards the lane. As far as she was concerned, her mother was making a mountain out of a molehill once again and - of course! - blaming it all on her! Her patience had first worn thin and had then been extinguished completely. Lizzy felt herself entirely justified in grabbing her bonnet and storming out, just to get away from it all.
Her mother, however, was similarly vexed and would not be put off so easily. She was following close behind with her skirts gathered in her hands, all the while railing against her daughter's wilfulness and disrespect.
Lizzy really, really did not want to hear Mrs Bennet's tirade again! Don't do this, don't do that, why can you not be more like Jane! She could not, nay, would not listen to any more of this right now! If she could just slip between the wall and hedge and escape into the fields of the home farm! Her mother would certainly not follow her there.
Thus, Lizzy rushed through the gateposts that separated the yard from the lane, grabbing onto one of them in order to round them more quickly. Then, however, her flight was stopped abruptly. Her shoulder caught something standing just around the corner, putting her off balance. Lizzy cried out and went down in a tumble.
This finally gave Mrs Bennet the chance to catch up to her daughter. Bracing her hands on her knees she caught her breath and started airing her displeasure right away. „Serves you just right, missy!" huffed Mrs. Bennet. „Now stay right where you are and listen!"
Lizzy groaned and briefly contemplated whether she should just stay down and try to drown out her mother's voice with the rustle of the leaves. However the slightly mouldy smell was not an attractive prospect either. Also, she had not planned on going out and worn one of her favourite morning dresses. It really would be a shame if it was ruined. Oh bother! Lizzy pushed herself up on her elbows with a defeated sigh.
She froze mid-movement when a decidedly male groan answered from somewhere in the pile of leaves beneath her.
Wide eyed, Lizzy slowly looked up, meeting her mother's equally wide eyes with horror dawning in her mind.
A disembodied voice, muffled but unmistakingly Mr. Darcy's, spat out: „Kindly get up and away from me!"
His angry words startled Lizzy into action. Mortified, she tried to scramble to her feet, while Mr Darcy's head emerged beneath Elizabeth. She was horrified, incapable of forming a coherent thought besides the need to get up and away from him as fast as possible.
Meanwhile, the gentleman beneath her sputtered, trying to spit out a leaf and free his arm from underneath his torso. However, their efforts were rendered moot when Lizzy's feet, clad only in slippers due to her earlier flight, found no traction on the dewy leaves and she slipped. An „uuhmf" left Mr. Darcy's mouth, as he was crushed beneath Lizzy's weight.
In the brief silence that followed, Lizzy contemplated dying of shame when rustling was heard from the bushes some ten yards down the road. Lizzy's head snapped up towards the source of the noise with growing horror on her face and leaves sticking out of her hair.
Mrs Bennet, who had been standing frozen with her hand pressed to her mouth until now, started to flutter nervously, turning back and forth undecidedly, and was muttering to herself „Oh dear! Oh, my nerves! My nerves!"
An uncharitable thought about the utter lack of usefulness of her mother's nerves crossed Lizzy's mind - and then a second thought about the utter lack of usefulness of her own actions - or lack thereof - inserted itself, echoing with her father's sardonic drawl. Which, now that she was thinking about it, was not very helpful either. Briefly, she cursed both of her parents. However, awareness of her present situation returned soon and she whimpered, praying that maybe, just maybe, it was just a dog or a deer or even a boar, for God's sake!
Her hopes were dashed though, when down the lane Mr. Bingley's figure came into view, pushing his way through the bushes lining it. When the young man finally reached the lane he started brushing off his clothes and his hat. Thus preoccupied, he called out. „I'm ready, Darcy! Let's go call!"
