Ich hoffe, ihr habt nichts dagegen, wenn ich hier eine englische FF eines Nichtmitglieds einstelle?! Sie ist von Erica, meiner Englischlehrerin, die ich ein bißchen mit P&P infiziert habe
und die spontan eine Challenge geschrieben hat, weil ihr das Thema so gut gefiel...
Opulent Aversion
by Erica
Lizzie closed her eyes, took a deep breath and listened to the silence as she sat in a room overlooking the garden at the Bingley’s second manor house. Snow was falling outside, a
fire was crackling in the hearth, and the wintry light came dimly through the window as if the glass were made of sugar crystals. Lizzie smiled, and before returning to her book, silently thanked her sister for allowing her to come a few weeks in advance of the Bingleys’ arrival and of most of the staff.
Lizzie was the only unmarried Bennet sister, so living with her aging parents was, needless to say, not always trouble-free, as her mother, of course, never passed up a moment to remind Lizzie of her social position.
“An old maid!” Mrs. Bennet would say. “What am I to do?” Then she would sigh. “I suppose four out of five is not bad.”
Lydia had not visited the Bennet family until after her first child was born, approximately seven months after her impromptu wedding. She gave birth to a son a year later, nearly at the same time that Jane gave birth to the sweetest little boy. Kitty had caught a captain in Meryton and was living the fine life of a soldier’s wife. Even Mary had gotten married – to one of Mr. Collins’ cronies. Mrs. Bennet was visiting her now, and they both believed that Lizzie was staying at the Bingleys, which, Lizzie reminded herself, was theoretically true – at if not with them, at least for the moment.
The doorbell rang. Lizzie looked up from her book. Had Jane decided to come earlier than planned?
A few moments later, Lizzie knew exactly who it was.
Screams and caws bounced down the hallway. Her hands tightened around the cover of the book. She closed her eyes, took a very deep breath and concentrated on relaxing. Then Lizzie rose and went to greet her sister’s family. The small group was in the foyer, shedding clothes and clumps of snow.
“Stop rocking the table, dear. They might not have enough money to replace it.” The woman turned. “Lizzie! What a surprise!”
“Good afternoon, Lydia.”
The sisters embraced.
“Aunt Lizzie!” The children ran to her, arms wide.
“Hello, Margaret. Hello, little George. How are you?”
“I’m BIG George now. I’m three!” The little boy proudly showed her two fingers.
“That’s two, you daft boy,” Margaret immediately pointed out.
“I’m not daft!” George hit at her, but his sister nimbly stepped out of reach.
“I want a kiss!” Margaret said, raising her arms to Lizzie.
“Me too!”
“You both get a kiss.”
“I want my sugar stick!” George suddenly cried out. He stepped away from Lizzie and was about to jerk his hand up when Lizzie, inhaling sharply between her teeth, caught his wrist just in time.
“She stole my sugar stick!” George cried. Margaret giggled.
“Give it back, Maggy,” Lydia said absently as she arranged her skirts and watched the footmen set down a trunk.
“I didn’t take it!”
George raised his hand to strike Lizzie. She now held both of his hands, keeping her head as close as possible to the one holding the candy stick.
“Why are you holding my baby like that?” Lydia cried and rushed over.
“Would you please remove the candy from my hair?” Lizzie asked as calmly as she possibly could.
The maid scurried over to extract the sticky sweetmeat.
“Oh, Lizzie!” Lydia cried. “How did that happen?” Then she laughed. “How funny, George!” Lydia smoothed her gown. “Isn’t it perfectly lovely that we can buy such things for our babies? We never had them.”
“I don’t recall us ever in want of them.”
“Maybe not you, Lizzie, but I certainly always did. And now I have them!” Lydia smiled brightly. “And my children get these beautiful things too!”
Lizzie looked at the shimmering goo around George’s mouth and on his hands. The boy wiped his forehead and left a streak of green behind.
“Have you come to stay long?” Lizzie inquired.
“Isn’t this snow terrible? I don’t remember a time when we had so much snow.”
Margaret began kicking a cloak across the puddle-covered floor. The maid scurried to retrieve it. The little girl shouted at her, “Don’t steal it! It costs a lot of money!”
“Jane did not mention that you would be visiting.”
“Don’t be silly, Lizzie. Of course, she didn’t. We’re not staying.”
“You’re not?”
“We were just passing through and it got so cold and the children so tired that I told the coachman to come here.”
The children were chasing each other around the room.
“We’ll just stay the night. I’m sure it will have stopped snowing by morning.”
The men were returning with yet another trunk and were trying to avoid being kicked by George. Margaret was climbing again and again onto the pile of luggage in order to jump off of it.
“Lydia,” Lizzie indicated, “the children.”
“Aren’t they sweet? We really must eat something. The children are absolutely famished after the long journey. They barely have any energy left.”
“Really? I need to wash my hair.”
During the meal, George threw chopped onions at Margaret. She immediately picked up a spoonful of mashed potato.
“Don’t!” Lizzie cried.
Lydia laughed. “Don’t worry, Lizzie. My little dear wouldn’t flick it. Would you, my love?”
Margaret shot Lizzie a dirty look then smiled endearingly at her mother and put down the potato. She wiped her soiled hand on the tablecloth.
******
The next morning Lizzie awoke abruptly, flung off the covers, and ran to the window. Her heart sank. Pristine snow reached halfway up the sundial in the garden. But, less than an hour later, Lydia was scurrying about trying to get the children ready to leave.
“Lydia, are you certain that you want to leave? It’s still snowing.”
“The weather is so thoughtless!”
“I don’t think—”
“I hate the snow!” Lydia spat. “It spoils all of my expensive dresses! Come on, children, hurry up!”
“I don’t want to go. It’s so cold.”
“We’re going to go, and that’s it!”
Margaret’s lip began to wobble. Lydia hit the girl on the head with a muff. “Don’t you dare start that up, young lady. Get your coat on! George, come here.”
“It’s so cold.”
“You’re just mimicking your sister. You don’t know what cold means.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Sarah, catch him and put his clothes on him.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
George screamed and ran away with the maid in hot pursuit.
The footmen were busy outside, and Margaret and her mother were struggling to such an extent that when the doorbell rang, it was Lizzie who moved to answer it. All she could think of was the blessed silence that would come when her sister’s family departed. She pulled her cloak tightly about her neck and opened the door. And froze, but not from the cold.
A man stood at the door, head bowed slightly as he simultaneously stamped his feet and unwrapped the thick scarf from about his head. He looked like a
squirrel that had wrapped its tail about its head, but Lizzie knew in an instant who he was.
“Mr. Darcy!”
The man started in surprise. “Miss Elizabeth!” He bowed.
Lizzie returned the greeting.
“I did not know you were here.” He looked uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Bingley said I could stay here for a while.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” His eyes flicked towards the door.
Lizzie began to feel the cold. “Forgive me, please come in. My sister is here as well.”
Darcy’s face brightened.
“With the children.”
Darcy face stiffened. Only Lydia had more than one child.
As much as Lizzie wished the man were not here, she could not bear forcing him out into the inclement weather. “Mr. Wickham himself is away on business.”
The tension instantly drained from Darcy’s face. He pounded his fists against his thighs to loosen the snow that clung to his coat.
Lizzie offered to take it. “The maid is busy helping Lydia prepare the children for their departure.”
“I’m afraid that I must advise them not to leave.”
“I beg your pardon?” Snow melted slowly in the entrance hall.
“The roads are impassable. My coach was barely able to make it as far as the stables.”
Lizzie sighed. “I shall go tell them.”
*****
“Oh, what a relief!” Lydia cried, releasing her daughter. “Mr. Darcy, you’re a treasure! Go say hello to Mr. Darcy, Maggy.”
The girl ran towards him, but his stern glance made her stop and curtsy instead of doing whatever she had in mind. Darcy returned her greeting as if she were his equal. Margaret’s eyes widened.
“How charming!” Lydia clapped her hands. “Now, where is that maid with my George?”
“I’ll fetch him,” Lizzie said, curtsied to Darcy and promptly left.
She realized she was shaking.
Lizzie had seen Darcy only once since she had told him of Lydia's elopement, and, then, during Jane’s wedding, they had only exchanged pleasantries. Lizzie was grateful to him for his part in bringing Jane and Bingley back together, but she could not bear speaking to him because all she could remember was the icy look on his face when she told him that Lydia had run away with Wickham. Lizzie had expected, too, every day to hear the announcement of Darcy’s engagement to Anne de Bourgh, the chances thereof having increased, Lizzie felt, when Lady Catherine met with a shockingly sudden death by choking on a cucumber sandwich.
And now Darcy was here.
The day passed excruciatingly slowly for Lizzie. Lydia pressed Darcy for his opinions on wealth and fortune, even though Darcy’s taciturnity clearly showed his disinterest in the topic.
“We’re lucky,” Lydia sighed and looked at the bracelet that sparkled on her wrist. “We have money. I’m so sorry of people like Lizzie. She’s going to die poor.”
Lydia’s attention to money made Lizzie’s face redden. Just when she thought she could bear no more, the two children ran into the room screaming.
“Aren’t they wonderful?” Lydia lauded.
“My other
glove is
lost!” Margaret exclaimed, waving its mate.
“I’ll buy you a new pair.” Lydia waved a hand. “They don’t cost much.”
“I want something too!” George demanded.
“Only if you’re nice!” Lydia chuckled.
Both children immediately fussed over their mother, fidgeting left and right to push the other sibling out of the way. Darcy’s face was a blank wall. Lizzie was certain she would die from shame. Lydia laughed cheerfully as she pulled sweetmeats from her sleeve. The children grabbed them greedily.
“It’s superb to have enough money to pamper my babies.” She smiled winsomely at Darcy.
Lizzie would never allow people to think that she had married for money! She would not be compared with her sister!
“You can sit here,” Darcy said.
Lizzie’s head turned.
“And George, you can sit here until you finish eating.” Darcy indicated the seat on the other side of him.
“No,” George rebuffed. He glanced at his sister for espousal, but she gave him none.
“Sit down,” Darcy intoned sternly.
George turned to run, but in one liquid movement, Darcy had stood, caught the boy, and placed him on the chair. George struck out and managed to wiggle past the man and flee to his mother. Margaret, not bearing that her brother receive all of the attention, quickly followed. Darcy’s eyes flicked fire in his cold visage. Lydia paled.
“How dare you be rude to Mr. Darcy!” She pushed the children away. They were taken aback, but directly began trying to climb onto her lap again.
“Sit down!” Darcy’s voice cracked like
an icicle breaking from an eave. The children ran to the seats. They remained there, sniffling, sniveling, and whimpering to their fretful mother, until the sweetmeats had been eaten.
Without looking up from the letter he was now writing, Darcy said, “Sarah can help you wash your hands.”
George looked about to disobey, but when his sister silently slipped off of the seat and went to locate the maid, George tagged along.
“You certainly have a way with children, Mr. Darcy,” Lydia flattered.
Darcy gave a curt reply and Lydia fell silent.
*****
The next day, the snow still showed no sign of letting up.
“The larder is well stocked,” Sarah assured. “And the coachmen say food for the horses should last a good three weeks.”
“Well, that’s good luck,” Lydia said.
“Good organization, I would say,” Darcy commented.
Lydia laughed. “That’s what I meant, dear Mr. Darcy.”
“Aunt Lizzie!” Came a shout. “Aunt Liiiiizziiiiiie!”
As Lydia showed no sign of checking on the children, Darcy rose and walked towards the commotion. The children were banging on the door to her
locked room.
“Children.”
Maggy looked up wordlessly.
George frowned from under his eyebrows. “Go away.”
“Would you like to go outside to collect material for
homemade Christmas ornaments?”
“We can’t find anything,” Maggy sulked. “There’s too much snow.”
“You can use anything you do find.”
“Anything?” George asked. “Even rocks?”
Darcy nodded.
“We never get to use rocks!” George said excitedly and ran off to get his winter wrap.
Maggy hesitated only briefly before also accepting the virtue of the idea.
On the other side of the door, hand poised above the doorknob, Lizzie listened to the steps de-crescendo and wondered if Darcy had purposely drawn the children away.
This sign of his having a perceptive character irritated her, as did his delightful firmness with Lydia’s offspring. If only he would remain the cold, arrogant man she had once thought him to be! One particular quality of his did help her, thankfully, to forget about his various good points. When Lizzie joined her sister in the parlor, Darcy and the children were already outside and Lizzie had some space from the howling fiends.
Out in the winter landscape, the children found pinecones,
fir tree needles, mistletoe, a feather, and rocks. Darcy cut boughs from the conifers. And after a spontaneous
snowball fight, they trekked back inside and remained occupied all day making ornaments.
Lydia turned her nose up at the creations. “They aren’t fit for anyone but the poor,” she said.
Lizzie took a silent breath, and a single glance showed her that Darcy both understood and sympathized with her feelings. Lizzie’s heart flipped and she quickly looked away. The following day she discovered yet another positive facet of his character.
*****
Darcy was writing a letter, the maid was keeping the children occupied, and the women were working on their
knitting projects when Lydia leaned over.
“He’s the one I should have been after.”
Lizzie blinked at her, stunned.
“Don’t look like that,” Lydia tutted. “You know Darcy is rich.” Her bosom heaved with a sigh.
“I thought you married for love.”
“Well, of course, silly. But if I had known how truly wonderful it is to have money!”
“Don’t you have enough?” Lizzie asked, fighting to hide her bitter judgment towards her sister and her annoyance at being called silly.
Lydia laughed. “Of course not!”
“If you need more,” Lizzie began acrimoniously, “then perhaps you can convince Uncle—”
“Uncle? What does he have to do with it?”
“Why, Lydia, surely you know that Uncle, well, donated the money to enable you to…?”
Lydia waved her hand. “Oh, I thought so too, but then I learned that it was Darcy after all. He was the one who found us, you know.”
“No…I didn’t know...” Lizzie could do nothing but sit on the sofa, eyes seeing nothing and ears hearing not a word more her sister spoke.
*****
Several days later, the children, against all common sense, threw all of the candles they could find into the fire to watch them melt.
“What?” Lydia’s voice jumped octaves.
The fire sizzled and popped. The children grinned and fidgeted nervously. Darcy’s face was tight disapproval. Lydia glanced at him fearfully.
“There’s nothing we can do now,” Lizzie said, resigned. “Perhaps there are more candles.”
“Perhaps? What are we going to do?”
“They were only candles, Lydia. The children did a bad thing,” she looked at them hard, “but now we will merely have only the light of the fire in the evenings.”
Lydia moaned.
“Mother?”
“Go away, you wretched children!” Lydia cried.
The children tried again to approach her, but she merely wailed and spurned them. The children sobbed and fled the room.
An hour later, after Lizzie had succeeded in calming her sister, it was discovered that the children had disappeared.
“My babies!” Lydia lamented. “My treasures!”
Everyone searched.
“They have not left the house,” Darcy determined. “All of the doors and windows are still bolted against the cold.”
Lizzie even looked in the
wine cellar; she stepped on
broken glass from a shattered bottle and her heart tightened in worry for the children. But they were not there.
“They must have gone into one of the servant’s passages,” Sarah ventured.
Lydia collapsed. “My nerves, my nerves!”
Lizzie was certain her
nerves were more
frayed.
“Find my babies! Save them! Lizzie, Mr. Darcy, promise me this! Oh, the pain! I’m dying!”
“I’ll care for her, ma’am,” Sarah said.
And so Lizzie and Darcy took one of the two remaining candles and went through a concealed door to the servants’ section of the house. They looked down every hallway and in every room.
“They cannot be lost,” Lizzie frowned. “They must be deliberately keeping away.”
Darcy agreed. “I fear they will not reappear until they wish to.”
They entered one of the last unsearched rooms. There was a rustle, the door slammed, and there came the pattern of running feet.
“There’s the proof,” Darcy murmured, moving to the door. It was locked.
“They’re spoiled rotten!” Lizzie cried. “I will never raise my children like that!”
“I’m convinced that you would be a good mother,” Darcy said softly.
Lizzie’s breath caught in her throat and she flew to the door. “We need to get out!”
Darcy lowered the candle to illuminate the gap between door and jamb. “The bar has fallen shut on the other side.”
Lizzie slipped her fingers through at head height and tried to nudge the bar. “I can’t reach it properly.” She was breathing quickly. The room was so crowded with Darcy in there with her. “Maybe we can find something to use to lift the latch,” she suggested hastily. She almost wished he were gone, yet at the same time in this environment of gloomy shadows his presence soothed her – but she refused to acknowledge that.
Using the single candle, which made Lizzie even more aware of how physically close Darcy was, they searched the small room. A gasp escaped Lizzie’s lips when the candlelight fell on bone-white cylinders. Then she laughed gaily. “Candles! Something good has come of being stuck in here!”
“This is a piece of luck.”
Something in his voice made Lizzie look at him sharply.
“I have not ceased thinking of you,” he confessed abruptly.
Lizzie frenetically looked towards the door, which was now shrouded in darkness. Darcy held the candle.
“While this is hardly the place to speak of such things—”
“Indeed!”
“—I do feel I must broach the subject once more. Please realize the sincerity of my feelings. I cannot help but harbor hopes that—”
“Please no more!”
“Tell me only this, Miss. Elizabeth, are your feelings for me unchanged since we last spoke? If they are, then I shall say no more on the subject.”
Lizzie looked up at his honest face and bit her lip.
“I cannot say that they are unchanged,” she began slowly, then quickly raised a hand as inner light warmed his features, “but my answer must remain unchanged.”
“I do not understand.”
“I have learned many things about you during these last few days which show me how wrongly I have viewed you. If things stood differently, I would accept you, but I cannot because there is one thing which I cannot reconcile.”
“Tell me and I will work to change it!”
Lizzie sadly shook her head. “You would not, and I would not ask it of you.”
“What is it of which you speak?” Darcy asked, bewildered.
“You have simply too much money,” Lizzie admitted. She could see Darcy think instantaneously of her youngest sister. “I do not wish people to think that I have married for it.” She shook her head sadly, but tried to smile. “Forgive me. I could bring myself to accept your proposal only if you had no more money than I.”
Darcy face changed.
“I truly did not wish to hurt you again.” Lizzie set down a hand, and sucked a shocked breath in between her teeth.
“Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy stepped forward and light fell on her hand. A knife lay on a shelf. “Did you injure yourself?”
He reached out a hand and his touch on her skin made her mind reel, yet she steeled herself with memories of her sister. She picked up the knife and smiled up at him. Then, realizing it might look like she was accosting him, she hurriedly lowered the knife and averted her gaze. Darcy smiled.
Using the blade to lift the latch, they were soon free. They lowered the bar again to preserve the supply of
forgotten candles from the children’s hands.
“What shall be done about the children?”
“We need to draw them out,” Lizzie mused and then smiled with an idea.
The two of them returned to the kitchen, where Lizzie began baking. Shortly later, the scent of cinnamon lured the children out of their hiding place and to the
freshly baked cookies.
*****
That evening, while Lydia and the maid were giving the children their baths and Lizzie sat alone in the parlor, Darcy entered, papers in hand.
“Please forgive the intrusion, but I have news to impart and business as well to do with you.”
Lizzie was flummoxed. “Business with me? News?”
Darcy nodded. “My cousin, Anne de Bourgh, died of consumption a fortnight before my arrival here.”
Lizzie’s hand flew to her face. “Oh! I am sorry! I did not know. Please accept my condolences.”
“Thank you.” Darcy nodded solemnly. “I was chosen as executor of my cousin’s will as regards her own fortune, and I was actually on my way to speak to you when the
snowstorm began.”
Lizzie became more nonplussed.
“Miss. Anne had never forgotten your first dinner with Lady Catherine, and your reactions to her questioning.”
Lizzie opened her mouth to speak, but Darcy raised a hand and continued promptly. “I believe she found it vastly amusing.”
“Pardon?”
“And because you were the only person who had ever dared speak so to her mother, she had written you into her will as a recipient of a certain sum of money.”
Lizzie shook her head “I could not accept anything merely for speaking my mind.”
A slight smile tugged at Darcy’s lips. “I rather thought you would react in such a way, but remember that to refuse would be to insult my cousin’s memory.” He took a breath. “And there is another matter that might move you to accept.”
“Oh?” Lizzie said, perplexed. “What is that?”
Darcy smiled hesitantly, handed her the document and asked, “Would having 10,000 pounds more a year make much of a difference to you now?”
Bemused, Lizzie dropped her gaze to the document in her lap. She gasped and looked up into Darcy’s intense eyes. An entirely new – and tantalizingly happy – future danced in her mind. Lizzie gazed at Darcy and smiled.
“No,” she said, “it would not.”
** The End **
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Aber natürlich würde ich noch gerne mehr lesen, nur her damit! Und hey, so genau nehmen wirs mit dem Termin doch nicht, oder? 
:wehe: :thud: 
