Readers,

I'm sure you have forgotten this story, but I'm still here (believe it or not). I've been writing all along, but I started teaching middle school English last fall so that's taken up much of my time and energy (and sanity). Fortunately, the school year is winding down and I'm starting to plan the story's ending in my head, so I do hope to actually finish and put this book up for sale sometime this year. Yay!

To refresh your memory of the story, Lizzie and Darcy met as they did in the original P&P, but were transformed after reading a book of Scottish incantations in the Netherfield library during Jane's illness. They have woken up as themselves but in each other's bodies (a la Freaky Friday). Needless to say, this is quite perplexing for each of them for several reasons.

Please let me know what you think. Thank you.

Grace


Bingley's Party Leaves Netherfield

The skies felt low and dreary, filled with grey clouds the day the carriage jostled down the neat rows of Netherfield's drive in the direction of London. Elizabeth watched the raindrops sluice down on the carriage window glass, feeling dreadful as she left Hertfordshire without her family for the first time in her life.

She could not cry.

She would not, she had promised herself. But as the familiar trees and landscape became smaller in the distance, she had to turn her face away so she could not see. Fortunately, her singular carriage-mate, Mr. Hurst, already dozed, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly open.

Despite the raindrops, Bingley rode outside, after expressing bafflement that Darcy did not wish to do the same.

"But you despise riding in carriages on long trips," Bingley said to him before the trip. "You have always preferred to ride alongside."

Elizabeth nodded, embarrassed, unable to find a suitable excuse to explain her preference now. "I do not wish to be wet."

Bingley stared at her as though she had grown a second head, which in a way she supposed she had. "I shall ride later," she said.

"I swear some days I know you not." Bingley shook his head but smiled. "But help me get my sisters back to town safely and with as few complaints from them as possible, and I shall be content."

Elizabeth forced herself to smile back.

"Of course," she said though her heart sank in her chest.


Several hours later-

Lord, Darcy's townhouse was huge.

Elizabeth climbed the steps of the white-bricked, ivy-covered townhome.

All this for one man? It could easily house four families.

"Good evening, Mr. Darcy," a middle-aged butler stepped forward, his gloved hands clasped in front of him. He pushed the vast door open. "Welcome home, Sir."

Candle lights blazed above a smart black and white checkered floor. A row of smiling, staff stood on it, looking expectantly, and she felt the burden it must be to be Mr. Darcy. She nodded at each person as they curstied or bowed.

"You have had a long journey. I have prepared a bath as you like it upstairs," the butler said. A bath sounded both wonderful and terrifying. She nodded and swallowed her squeamishness. His man certainly would have seen Darcy's naked form before. No use hiding that now. Besides a bath sounded divine. How she wished she could tell Jane about her bath in Darcy's private London townhouse. Oh, Jane. Would she ever see her again?

She smelled the lavender and citrus before she saw it. Darcy's bath was beyond amazement. A copper tub! She had heard some gentlefolk had copper tubs, but she'd not seen one in her life.

Until now.

And it was full of luxurious, hot sudsy water with bits of shredded lavender floating on top. She immediately forgot her desire to be modest and allowed the butler and footman to shed her shirt and suspenders, the now-dusty pants she'd been in all day, and the damp stockings. She simply wanted to be in that tub.

"It's not the bath at Pemberley, is it, Sir? But is it adequate?" the butler said as she eased into the blissfully warm water.

Elizabeth shivered in pleasure as the water enveloped her chest. "My dear man… it is perfection."

The butler seemed surprised, but then he schooled his expression. "Thank you, Sir."

She leaned back, closed her eyes, and sighed deeply. Was there a greater pleasure than being the only person in a hot bath? She felt a twinge of guilt when she thought of Jane and her sisters sharing the tepid water in the dented tub at Longbourn.

Then she had a thought: What if she sent Longbourn a new tub? The idea was delicious but completely improper. Even if she sent it anonymously, it would be far too scandalous for her family to accept. Completely outrageous. The idea made her giggle though. She could see Jane's flushed cheeks at the thought.

She would send it at once. Anonymously. Perhaps.

"Are you well, Sir?" Darcy's butler asked.

She bit her lip. She could hint the tub was from Bingley and suggest it was sent for medicinal health. Elizabeth slipped back into the welcoming water, closing her eyes again. "I am quite well." In fact, there were several new household items she might send to Longbourn.

Being Darcy had become quite amusing indeed.


Longbourn, A few weeks later-

Mrs. Bennet's eyes grew large and round with surprise. She stopped embroidering and dropped down her sewing altogether to peer at Jane. "We have received what, precisely?"

Jane swallowed, reading her mother's discomfort. "The letter is not signed, but it is stamped from Belgrave in London. We do not know anyone in that area well enough who might send gifts, except…" her voice trailed off.

"Mr. Bingley!" Lydia jumped in helpfully. "Who else might it be?"

"Someone has sent two bolts of muslin, several ribbons, and four pairs of new gloves!" Kitty said as she looked into the newly opened box.

Darcy had bitten his tongue long enough. He was going to protest, when Mary spoke for him. "That is a shockingly improper gift for any young lady to receive. Mama, you cannot accept it." For once, Mary, spoke true sense.

Mrs. Bennet's mouth drooped, looking utterly lost. She very much adored gifts of all kinds, particularly items like the fine bolts of muslin that could make several dresses for her girls. She was bereft at the idea of returning it.

"Maybe it is a gift from my brother in town, and he forgot to sign it," Mrs. Bennet said.

"When did Tom have the taste to buy such muslin from such an expensive store? He uses the same tea bag all day to save himself a few pennies," Lydia said.

Darcy turned the box and examined the address it had been sent from. It was one of the exclusive Mayfair stores where the ton's ladies sometimes shopped. Seeing the store crest made his stomach churn. It wasn't a place he expected Bingley to shop. Too snobby for Bingley's taste. Unless he felt guilty for quitting the country, so he rushed to the most expensive store in town, but surely he had to know a young woman like Jane would not accept so ostentatious a gift. Darcy shook his head.

"Lizzy, why do you frown so?"

"It is so unlike Bingley."

Jane's smile faded, and her voice lowered "Lizzy? Why do you say so?"

Darcy shook his head and tried to make himself laugh. "It seems unlike him, I mean. Besides, you cannot accept these gifts."

Jane nodded reluctantly. "No, I cannot. A pity, though. My favorite shade of blue." She reached out her hand and touched the muslin longingly.

Darcy paused. How had Bingley known the shade Miss Bennet preferred? Bingley was many things, but he'd remained startling oblivious to women's fashion, as Caroline has pointed out several times. And the note was unsigned. Might Bingley know enough to purchase items at Worthington's without Darcy's guidance? It all seemed very strange. Darcy's jaw clenched in a habit as a curious thought came to him. Perhaps Darcy had gone to the store, well, Darcy in body anyway. He drummed his fingers on Longbourn's rough-hewn kitchen table. It was exactly the sort of behavior Elizabeth Bennet might engage in, if…she happened to wake up in the the body of a male member of the to. Darcy rubbed his forehead.

He must certainly be losing his faculties now. For how would ever explain this if he tried to explain this suspicion? He watched Millie, the young kitchen maid, knead and stretch dough on the table nearby. The poor girl did work hard waiting on the Bennet girls and Darcy guessed she was not yet fourteen. If Elizabeth Bennet was going to spend his money, he could at least use Miss Bennet's corporal self to aid a servant He had become aware since he'd been at Longbourn of the many ways that women, even gentlewomen, like Miss Bennett, did much more work than he'd been aware.


Elizabeth sighed.

Winter was long and typically quiet in Hertfordshire, a time that passed without seeing one's neighbors for weeks and long dark nights spent reading before the dwindling fireplace. London, Elizabeth was discovering, was not at all the same.

Carriages bounded down the streets at nearly any hour of the day or night in London! Who could be out at all hours? To what business were they attending? She found herself repeating one of her mother's favorite words-–shocking!-in her head. But then, after a few days, she went to the windows and looked out (for she could do that as a man in his townhouse, even from the center windows where anyone could see her.).

The carriages! Oh, the different sizes and kinds. Dark formal ones like Mr. Darcy had with a family crest on it abounded, but many others too! Colored ones: burgundy, mustard yellow! Ones with the names of businesses painted garishly on its side. Others, like trifles, with ruffled curtains in the window that carried young women, pulled by stern, brooding drivers. Elizabeth wondered about these young women, close to her age. But she could not initiate conversation as Mr. Darcy.

One cold, rainy February morning, she'd heard the sounds of voices downstairs. A few men had passed stopped by the Darcy townhouse, looking for her, but she'd had the butler claim Darcy had a cold and sent them on their way, not knowing who they were or what their relation was to Mr. Darcy. Instead, she spent her time in Darcy's excellent library, examining his books in part because they interested her and because of what they told her about Mr. Darcy. All told it was a rather excellent library, Elizabeth had to admit.

But the voices downstairs grew louder. "What ho now! What is the meaning of this?"

Elizabeth flinched. This was what she feared the most. Fortunately, during the last month, she had found Darcy did not seem to be exceptionally close to many people.

Footsteps rang out on the stairs. A moment later, the library door was flung open. A man in a naval uniform stood before her. "There you are, Darcy! Now kindly explain yourself!" the man in the uniform said.

Elizabeth swallowed, knowing a moment like this would inevitably arrive and dreading it. The butler hovered behind her uncertainly. "Sir, your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam has arrived," he said.

She recalled Mr. Darcy spoke at Netherfield of a cousin in the Navy. They must be fairly close. That felt as though it were a hundred years ago.

Finally, she simply stood up and stiffly grasped hands with the man. "Welcome, Cousin. It is good to see you. Have you brought sea tales to share with me?"

The Colonel, blinked rapidly. "Sea tales? Darcy, are you mad? You know I have been landbound these two years. Give me a proper embrace!"

The Colonel embraced him fully, slapping his back affectionately. "That was a good joke! Let us have a warm welcome like proper men. I'd have been here earlier, but a certain lady was in town. You cannot tell my Mama, You know how she gets." He threw off his coat, rolling his eyes. Elizabeth did not know his Mama at all, but said nothing.

The colonel kept speaking as he pulled a flask from his coat. Elizabeth was relieved she did not have to say anything at all. "You look well, Darcy. You've not been succumbing to the sweetmeats as I have been," he patted his slightly round stomach. "But then that's what the holidays are for, are they not? How is the dear one?"

This caught Elizabeth unaware. Dear one? She wasn't sure to whom he was referring. Did Darcy have a sweetheart?

She nodded vaguely. "All are well," she said, hoping that was enough.

The Colonel laughed. "That will not do! You must update me more satisfactorily for her letters have been little but woeful sorrow since Ramsgate."

Ramsgate? She knew nothing of Ramsgate.

The Colonel glanced around. "Where is the hospitality? Let's have a drink like proper men so that I might finally warm up from the cold."

A cup of tea did sound delicious to Elizabeth, but she had the impression that was not what the Colonel was seeking, even at this early hour.

Elizabeth stood and rang the small bell connected to his man's room. Almost instantly, he appeared.

"Do see to the Colonel. Please bring us a pot of fresh tea, and whatever else he wishes."

The Colonel smiled, seeming to relax. "Now tell me of Georiganna."

Georgiana? Darcy's sister.

"I've been wondering what our charge has been up to."

Instantly, the nature of things clicked in her mind. She recalled Darcy had mentioned he and another were wards of his sister since his parent's death. "Georgiana is very well, of course, the darling girl. Why do you ask?"

Now the Colonel's brow furrowed. "Why, when she can be bothered to write, she scribbles notes of woe and heartbreak very unlike herself. I have half a mind to go see her myself and see how she fares." He rubbed his forehead before casting a fatigued smile. "But I'm blasted tired. I hoped you might attend me."

Elizabeth's heart sank. She couldn't imagine what might have happened to result in heartbreak for Georgiana in her few weeks as Mr. Darcy. Or had it occurred prior? She could barely keep the twists and turns of Darcy's life straight, let alone his family's.

The Colonel smiled ruefully before he continued. "And then I realized, we'd all see each other in a few weeks at Lady Catherine's for Easter."

Elizabeth flinched. She had not considered another holiday.