Page 24 of Transforming Mr. Darcy
For the first time in their acquaintance, Mildread appeared abashed. “Push her in the lake, Elizabeth,” the fairy cried. “She deserves it, wandering in to ruin everything despite being told over and over to stay away!”
Elizabeth sat up slowly, numbly.
“No one could have done more,” Mildread said softly.
“But what of Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, holding back her tears. What did she care that she could speak when Mr. Darcy could not?
Miss Bingley straightened. “WhatofMr. Darcy?” she asked harshly, her head swinging from one side to another in search of him. Her slightly pointed nose lifted indisdain. “He is certainly nothing to one such as you.”
All was lost, and Elizabeth could not care whether Miss Bingley believed her mad. “Mildread,” she sobbed.
Mr. Darcy waddled over to her and pressed himself into her side. She threw her arms around him and wept unabated.
“Miss Elizabeth, are you hard of hearing?” Miss Bingley asked impatiently. “Whatever are you doing here?” A smirk stretched her lips. “That is, besides speaking to an owl and making love to a swan?”
“How did she . . .?” Elizabeth asked in gasps between sobs.
Miss Bingley shook her head, unable to comprehend that she was being ignored.
“There were no authentic castle ruins nearby, so I was forced to use the folly,” Mildread said contritely. “Miss Bingley wanted to learn the way to the folly so she might convince Mr. Darcy to walk here with her. She came early to avoid being questioned by her brother and sister. All week she has been seeking him.” The fairy shrugged. “The spell apparently had a hole or two.”
“Oh, Mildread,” Elizabeth moaned, but there was no sense in indulging her grief further. What was done was done. She removed a handkerchief and dried her eyes.
“Where did you get that?” Miss Bingley cried and lunged forward. Elizabeth instinctively pulled away. Only then did she realise that she was holding one of Mr. Darcy’s handkerchiefs, for his initials were sewn into one corner.
Miss Bingley had the advantage, as she had been standing while Elizabeth was still seated. She shoved Elizabeth’s shoulders back and pinned her to the ground as she reached with one long arm for the cloth clutched tightly in Elizabeth’s hand.
Mr. Darcy hissed and spat as his large wings beat the air. He flew up into Miss Bingley, knocking her backward, then propelled himself at her again in a flurry of feathers as Miss Bingley scrambled away.
“Call him off, Miss Eliza!” she screeched, but Elizabeth did not. She raised herself into a seated position, then stood.
“Miss Bingley,” she said brokenly as she shook out her skirt, “go home.”
The woman gave her a look that was no less than incredulous. “You do not have any standing on Netherfield land, Miss Eliza.”
Mr. Darcy flapped his wings, and Miss Bingley took another step back. Still she wouldnot yield. “It is not for you to tell me what to do or where to go.” She wiggled her shoulders. “Mr. Darcy enjoys watching the sun rise at Pemberley. I expect him here any moment so that we may watch it together.”
The words wounded her. “The sun,” Elizabeth said woodenly as she rose to her feet, “is already risen. Were he coming, he would be here.”
Mr. Darcy waddled back to Elizabeth and stood beside her. After a moment, he leaned against her legs.
She bent to gently stroke his feathers. Mr. Darcy preened, and she laughed a little, knowing he must wish to cheer her. He honked.
“You must remove yourself this instant, Miss Eliza,” Miss Bingley insisted. “You are not welcome here.”
“There is a way to bring Mr. Darcy back, Elizabeth,” Mildread said hesitatingly.
“What is that?” Elizabeth asked eagerly.
Miss Bingley put her hands on her hips, irritated. “Isaid. . .”
Mr. Darcy honked twice and extended his wings as he waddled between her and the other woman. Elizabeth blinked. Miss Bingley’s hands were changing, narrowing until her fingers were thin, tapered, and not quite human.
As they watched, equal parts fascinated and horrified, Miss Bingley’s eyes rounded, her body was covered in a fine greyish-brown hair, and she shrank. And shrank.
And shrank.
Before them, in the grass, was a common house mouse. It stood on its back paws and continued to squeak at them.
