I love this idea. For some reason, the first couple I thought of was Titania and Oberon I had all sorts of ideas, then started with the idea of writing it in verse... then I realized I was putting too much into it and the fun would be gone. Next was the super obvious Lizzie and Mr. Darcy. They needed to get it on -- but then I felt like I'd be messing with something sacred.
Thank goodness inspiration hit in a timely manner. Below, I give you, at 1050 words, Mr. Bennet from Pride and Prejudice and his first meeting with Mrs. Bennet (née Gardiner). Because there were no first names within the story, I improvised. Enjoy.
In Which Mr.
Bennet Meets Miss Gardiner
William Bennet
turned to look the direction his brother indicated, and saw nothing but a
cluster of debutants giggling.
Charles did all
but point with his flute of champagne. “Beyond the virgins, next to Lord
Foxley. How much do you think she costs?”
William saw her
then, her unpowdered gold ringlets piled high, still scarcely reaching Foxley’s
nose. A petite little thing, a pocket Venus, she couldn’t have been older than
eighteen. Her clothes indicated money, but there was an innocence to her,
unjaded and honest, that set her apart from the rest of the ton. Something was
different about her. Sipping his wine, he asked, “What makes you think she’s
for sale?”
“Look at the way
she laughs, she reeks of merchants. No gentleman will wed her, but there is
already speculation at Whites about who will be the first to bed her.”
“Then those men
are not gentlemen.” William tugged on the points of his waistcoat. “It is
barbaric to plan the ruin of a young woman based solely on her connections or
lack thereof.”
“Ah, William, so full
of righteous fury at the injustices of the world. I’m surprised you came
tonight if you despise all your peers so heartily. You might find these events
more pleasurable if you did your thinking with,” he gestured crudely, “another
head.”
William willed the
tension from his jaw. He would not rise to his brother’s baiting. Bowing just
enough to be polite, he excused himself.
He was here to
find a wife. He didn’t have the fortune to attract a titled woman, nor the
romantic inclinations to woo one. Really, women were befuddling, a riot of
emotions that he could never understand. Still, as the eldest son, he must
marry and sire a son lest the entail pass to Charles who would do nothing but
drink it into ruin.
A slap on the back
broke him from his thoughts. He looked up to find Foxley grinning at him like a
fool.
“Miss Gardiner,
allow me to present you my dear friend William Bennet.”
Lost in his
thoughts, he’d walked straight towards them like some lovesick fool.
“Your servant,
ma’am,” he said with a bow, “I…”
Whatever he’d been
about to say was lost, gone, the moment his eyes met hers. Though her face was
in calm repose as a lady’s should be, her eyes were smiling, laughing, as if
daring him to laugh with her. A deep brown, fringed in long, dark lashes, they
were a stark contrast to her blond brows and hair. Remarkable.
“I fear your
beauty has quite undone my friend,” Foxley continued, plucking a fresh flute of
champagne from a passing server. He took Miss Gardiner’s almost empty glass
from her fingers and handed her the new one.
“My Lord, I really
should not have another. The bubbles go straight to my head.” She smiled,
looking up under her lashes, her eyes flashing with amusement.
“I insist,” Foxley
crooned. “It is, after all, your debut upon the ton. Make the most of it.”
“William, there
you are!” A shrill voice assaulted him from behind as his mother slapped him in
the back with her fan. “Why are you dallying with your friends when you should
be finding a wife?”
Foxley snorted,
too gauche to pretend not to hear, but Miss Gardiner just smiled at him softly
and took a sip of her champagne then set it on a passing footman’s tray.
“Mother, allow me
to make you acquainted with Miss Gardiner. I have just found out that this is
her first ball. Miss Gardiner, this is my mother, Mrs. Katherine Bennet.”
“Your mother did
not host a ball in your honor then?” Somewhere in the last ten years, his
mother had lost her understanding of tact.
“Father wouldn’t
hear of it, but Mother was able to gain this invitation and so,” Miss Gardiner
spread her gloved hands before her, “here I am.”
“And who are your
parents, child?” His mother hedged closer, pushing him aside with her panniers.
“Jacob and
Margaret Gardiner of Hampstead Heath.” Miss Gardiner explained, holding her
chin with confidence despite his mother’s scrutiny. “Father is a banker…”
“A banker’s
daughter!” His mother stepped back as if burned. “How on earth did you gain
entrance to Lady Spencer’s ball?”
“Lady Spencer is
my aunt, Mrs. Bennet.” The young woman’s polite words held an edge, though her
eyes continued to smile.
William hid his
own smile when his mother did not respond. She could hardly give the cut direct
to the hostess’s niece no matter her unfortunate parentage. He cleared his
throat and held out his hand, “Miss Gardiner, would you please do me the honor of
joining me in this dance?”
She slipped her
gloved hand into his and gave a curtsey, “Of course, Mr. Bennet. You are too
kind.”
#
Her laughter danced
along the breeze ruffling the oil lamps suspended on the terrace. Her hand snug
in the crook of his arm, he fought the urge to hold her closer still. He laid
his hand over hers and noted the fair skin of her arm above her glove, beneath
the fall of lace at her elbow, dust over with goose bumps.
“Are you cold,
Miss Gardiner? We could go inside.”
“Not at all, Mr.
Bennet, but I thank you for your concern.” Turning her face up to him, she bit
her lip, drawing his eyes to her sweet bow of a mouth.
“If it is not bold,
I would ask you to call me William.”
She looked away as
a rosy blush covered her cheeks. “Not too bold, William,” she whispered his
name. “And you may call me Elizabeth, if you wish.”
“Elizabeth ,”
he whispered her name in turn then pulled her hand to his lips and placed a
chaste kiss on her knuckles. “May I call upon your father on the morrow?”
She gasped, happiness
clear in her eyes, then stilled herself once more. “Yes, William. I will tell
him to expect you.”
His mother may
well die of apoplexy and Charles would label him a fool, but William didn’t
care. As far as he was concerned, they could all go to hell so long as he could
gaze into Elizabeth Gardiner’s fine eyes.
#
