Are you there, God, it's me, Darcy?

This is not the real title, but it's the working title of this chapter in my head. It makes me laugh. What do you think? Is this a bridge too far for JAFF? Will the Austen purists call for my head? I can't get past how compelling the experience of waking up in the body of someone of another sex would be (if one magically woke up that way). I'm also a huge sucker for Freaky Friday-style movies. Maybe I should title this Freaky Darcy? Yeah, no.

This isn't traditional JAFF at this point, but I'm just going to keep writing and see where the story takes me and how it shapes up. There are lots of different kinds of JAFF out there these days. Thanks for reading.

Grace

Darcy had been ignoring what was becoming an increasingly urgent issue; he had to relieve himself. He coughed awkwardly as he followed Mr. Collins, Caroline, and Elizabeth back to the Netherfield ballroom, eager to break away from the group.

"Excuse me, please," he said, seeking out one of the discrete candlelit backrooms upstairs where ladies went to relieve themselves. It was not easy, and he learned early how disastrous it could be to try to do so on one's own.

In the backroom, he spied Mary, a Netherfield lady's maid who tended to Caroline Bingley. It was somewhat presumptive of Elizabeth Bennet to ask to use the Netherfield maid, but he was more comfortable with her than he was with Sally, the girls' maid at Longbourne. Besides, he knew Mary was well familiar with greater presumption from Caroline Bingley.

"Mary, would you mind, please?" He gestured to his skirts.

The red-haired girl nodded and they stepped behind a screen for privacy. She stood behind him, gathering his skirts and a small bourdaloue pot, which was how women in elaborate dresses relieved themselves at parties such as this. Darcy did not like any of this, but he had reached a point where he could no longer wait. He much preferred the ease of men's bodies.

"All right, Ma'am," Mary called out to him, a sign for him to begin.

Darcy's relief was immense. He sighed deeply.

"Ma'am?" Mary's voice broke through his relief. Dear God, had he missed the pot? He desperately hoped not.

The girl mumbled something.

"Pardon?"

"You have begun your courses, Ma'am."

Darcy struggled to place meaning to her words. Courses?

Oh. Oooohhhh.

He shrank into himself. This was not something he knew how to handle at all. Dear God, what did women do? He must leave immediately.

Her hand touched the back of his arm. "Never you mind, ma'am. We keep cloths here for just the sort of thing," she said cheerfully. The girl busied herself behind his skirts and he again felt her warm skin touch him as she attached something around his waist before letting his skirts fall gently to the ground. "There you are. No one will suspect a thing. You may dance and everything." The girl dipped her hands in a nearby basin of water and smiled.

Darcy could not think of what to say. She had done him a service–a very delicate one at that–and he nodded/bowed to her in an awkward move. He grasped his reticle around his wrist, stuck in his hand, seeking the heaviest coin he knew was there. He had no idea what proper compensation was, but whatever it was, it was likely not enough. Whatever additional compensation he provided for his valet, he knew he had to double it. He grabbed another coin and pressed it into her hand.

The girl's eyes widened in disbelief. "Thank you, Ma'am. That's very generous."

"Thank you, Miss," Darcy said, moving away quickly, too embarrassed to hold eye contact with the maid for a moment longer.

Darcy left the lady's room, still deeply embarrassed by the entire incident, noting he could now feel the strange new contraption around his waist. Its ribbons, though slender, held the secret cloth securely between his legs. He glanced around the room and a thought rose in his mind: how many other women right now were in similar circumstances to his? His face reddened at the thought and he moved to seek a refreshment to calm himself. How strange women's bodies were, bleeding freely for several days a month though absolutely fine. He'd known many strong men who grew faint at the sight of blood. Did women not grow weak? Was that why they were always swooning? Well, that explained the muted abdominal pain he'd had before and today.

Across the room, Jane waved at him and begin to make her way to him. So she was finally not dancing with Bingley?

"There you are," Jane said. "I've wondered where you had gone."

"You seemed very occupied on the dance floor."

Jane's pale brows furrowed with surprise, and Darcy reminded himself to restrain his behavior, particularly with Elizabeth's sensitive sister.

Jane looked surprised. "Do you wish me not to dance with Mr. Bingley?"

Darcy sighed, ashamed of his displeasure. "Not at all. I'm sorry. I am not myself today."

"Lizzy, are you unwell?" Jane looked serious.

"No, I am merely being peevish." He tried to think of what Elizabeth might reasonably say to her sister. "Did you enjoy your dance?"

Here Jane blushed and ducked her head in a way even Darcy found charming. "He is the very best of men."

"I fear that may be an exaggeration, but I am happy you enjoyed yourself so well."

Jane bit her lip with pleasure as a secret smile crept up her lips. "I do like him."

Darcy noted Jane's soft expression and felt a hint of worry for the young girl. Surely sweet Jane Bennet was no match for the likes of Caroline Bingley. Perhaps he should try to guide her away from the Bingleys. "Do not forget there are other men here as well. You should not limit acquaintance only to Mr. Bingley."

Jane flashed her eyes at her sister before giggling. "How might other men compare to Mr. Bingley?"

"I only mean that Caroline Bingley might not make the most amenable sister," Darcy said, carefully moving away. He cleared his throat, guilt welling up in him. Since when did he care about Jane Bennet's prospects?

"Caroline Bingley is perfectly kind," Jane said. "Lizzy, you are quite suspicious lately. You sound like Mr. Darcy."

Darcy ignored this comment. "I only mean that Miss Bingley and her brother travel in different circles than we are used to. If you were hurt by Caroline or her friends…" Here he paused, unsure of what he should say. "I should be sorry." A lump formed in his throat. What was happening to him? He swallowed quickly. When had he turned so soft?

Jane grasped his hand in hers and laughed. "Lizzy, you are very severe on his family! They have been very kind to me."

Darcy pulled his hand away and stood up, turning from Jane. "I do hope you're right." He would not like to see Jane hurt. He blinked quickly to put himself to rights. He had never enjoyed balls and tonight was no exception. He dearly missed Darcy's rambling bed chamber upstairs that he had had all to himself not very long ago. How lucky he had been as Darcy, he'd literally had everything brought to him on a platter. And still he'd found reason for complaint.

"Quitting Netherfield Park?" Elizabeth glanced from Miss Caroline Bingley's prideful smile to Bingley's lowered head. "Whatever for?"

Sweat was beginning to bead on her back, under Darcy's coat. She shifted uncomfortably under it. "I thought the ball was an unmitigated triumph."

Bingley's eyes shifted awkwardly to his sister's face. "That's true, Caro. It did go awfully well."

Caroline's face tightened. "What we mean, Darcy, is that we both find the quality of society here in the country here lacking. Of course there are pleasant people here in Meryton. There are pleasant people everywhere, but why spend weeks here if they are not really the type of people we wish to be intimate with?" Caroline said peevishly before sipping her tea.

Lacking? Elizabeth tilted her head toward Caroline, biting her lip. She could think of a good many things she wished to say back to Caroline, but choose not to. She again eyed Bingley, his rust-colored head still bent down. How could these two have been raised in the same household? Caroline wished to separate her brother from Jane Bennet, that was clear.

Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the table in front of her, an impatient habit she had begun as Darcy. "I was under the impression Bingley was taken with Miss Jane Bennet. Might I assume, Caroline, this is your attempt to separate them?"

Caroline's eyes narrowed. "I would never attempt to separate Charles from someone he was truly enamored of, so long as she was worthy of his attention." She shot her brother a side-long glance. "I merely believe our time here is ill-advised. Why, even a few days ago, you, too, Darcy, had reservations about the nature of some of the Bennets."

Elizabeth considered how to combat her line of argument. Should she declare Darcy's earlier beliefs unsound? Claim a change of heart and argue for the very real virtues of those she loved at Longbourn? All would sound ridiculous coming from Darcy today. From outside came the slow pattering of raindrops on the roof. "It is raining," Elizabeth said. Bingley looked up momentarily.

Caroline sneered. "Darcy, you may stay if you wish, but I would hope you might honor your hosts' wishes and return with us to town."

It was true; It would be rude not to leave with her hosts. But how could she leave her physical form behind and go into London as Mr. Darcy? Her stomach churned at the very notion. And what nonsense might Darcy fall into her in her form? Bingley stood then and nudged Darcy to follow. Dash it, the rain was coming down harder, and Elizabeth knew she had been bested. At least for the moment.

Alone in the plush sitting room upstairs, in front of a sputtering fire, Elizabeth finally asked Bingley what she had been bursting to say downstairs.

"Bingley, do you really wish to leave Netherfield now?"

Bingley sat defeated on a loveseat, holding the palms of his hands to his eyes. Bother. She truly wished Bingley might endeavor to grow a spine in matters with his sister.

He finally pulled his hands away. Was he crying?

"I do not know what I wish." He then curled into a rather pathetic ball on the loveseat.

"Bingley, this is ridi–. Look, you are your own man. You need not do your sister's bidding, do you understand?"

"Yes, but what if Caro is right? She often knows more than I."

"That is not so. Bingley, how might she know more about matters of your heart?"

Bingley chewed one of his fingernails, and in doing so appeared very young and boyish. "I do so admire Miss Jane Bennet. But perhaps I am blinded by infatuation, as Caro says. How might one know the difference between love and infatuation?"

Here Elizabeth was silent. It was an excellent question "I suspect it is more than physical attraction, but profound respect for the other's character, even if you do not always agree with them." Bingley looked at her then and Elizabeth had the peculiar notion he could see it was her behind Darcy's face. "But I do not know the state well myself, and am only speculating." She smiled kindly.

Bingley clapped Darcy on the shoulder and smiled back weakly. "You are very good to me, old boy, listening to me prattle on like a mewling child. But I cannot fight Caro when she's in this state. Sadly, we must return to town–for now, and I'll see what my heart tells me regarding Miss Bennet. Besides seeing friends in town might be good for me. We might return to Netherfield after Christmas. But do not abandon me to my sister now. You are the only one who listens to me."

Elizabeth felt his warm hand on her shoulder and nodded. Truly she was trapped. Besides, what else could she do anyway?