Through a Different Lens

by Riana Everly

  “Perhaps I merely needed the right inspiration.”

  She caught his eyes with her own and felt drawn into their moss-green depths. “Oh,” was all she was able to say as she stared, lost, unaware of time or the drawing of breath or the brilliant light-filled fragile butterfly she held in her hands.

  It was only when the boys, who were completing a stage of their periscopes and needed assistance, began calling Mr. Darcy’s name that the couple at the window recalled themselves to their senses.

  “Um, well, yes, Miss Elizabeth, I shall return once I have finished helping the lads. Please feel free to peruse the rest of the collection, should you so desire.”

  “Thank you… I shall.” She watched him return to his pupils with the rainbows dancing across his back.

  By the end of the afternoon, two somewhat cumbersome but nonetheless utile periscopes sat atop the work table. The boys were justifiably proud of their hard and careful work, and had shown their creations to Elizabeth, who admired every join of heavy paper and leather and who crowed in wonder at the magic these objects could perform with their mirrors and lenses.

  The boys insisted on demonstrating their periscopes to Elizabeth. “See here, Cousin Lizzy,” Samuel gushed, “You look through this opening here, and the image you see will be something around a corner of some sort. The light from whatever it is you are seeing enters through the other end,” he pointed, careful not to smudge the glass with his fingers, “and is reflected off a prism inside the tube, where it is magnified by a system of lenses. Then the light from the image reflects again off a second mirror at the bottom bend, and out through the eyepiece. And this enables you to see something that is not directly before you!”

  This was intriguing, and Elizabeth was eager to see how the device worked in practice. She accepted her young cousin’s periscope and held it up to her eye. It truly was a wonderful creation! By looking through the small eyepiece, and turning the top of the device, she was able to see around corners, read small (if backwards) print on a book on a shelf to her one side, and even see behind her if she raised the top of the periscope high enough. “They are marvellous!” She felt as excited as the boys and praised them again and again until they fairly glowed with the pride of their achievement.

  At last the tea was brought in, along with lemonade and a wide selection of treats for the boys, and the four sat in earnest discussion over the objectives and rules of their game. It was Elizabeth’s difficult chore to remind the youngsters of their manners, so excited were they at their new project, and once she even found herself about to scold Mr. Darcy himself for talking with his mouth full of cake. Of all his faults and difficulties, he had always shown the most fastidious attention to his manners, and this lapse, the first she had ever seen, only emphasised that he was as keen as the boys to engage in their game.

  The objective was simple: to direct the other person to an object of the player’s choosing somewhere within the park, while at all times remaining out of direct sight and earshot. Each boy would have half an hour to select his item and devise a system of twigs or stones or something else to direct his friend to the goal. Each clue would point to the next—perhaps an arrow of branches leading to a diagram made of pebbles. Ingenuity and interpretation were key, and everything must be around some sort of barrier from the preceding clue, so that the periscopes could be pressed into action. Written words were not forbidden but were discouraged. Mr. Darcy would locate himself in some central place where he could be found if needed, and Miss Elizabeth would, he hoped, deign to keep him company.

  “I cannot wait to tell Mama and Papa what we have done today!” Samuel’s words tumbled from his lips.

  “I too!” Robert beamed. “Mother will not believe what we have made.”

  Sammy stopped and looked stricken. “Will they really disbelieve us? I would be distressed to be caught in a lie, and especially so if it is, in reality, true.”

  Grinning, Elizabeth explained the common idiom, and to reassure her cousin, confirmed that she would relate every detail to her aunt and uncle; She also promised to be most attentive in explaining the game. Rarely had she seen her cousin so enthused about something he had created. Theory often fascinated him, but hardly ever application. She was as pleased as he was. Now satisfied that his parents would not distrust his words, Samuel returned to the subject of the devices he and Robert had created. “Early uses of periscopes included watching public spectacles over the heads of the other people in a crowd! But if I hold it thus, I can see around a corner, or behind a chair. And hopefully, tomorrow, I shall peer behind hedges and over walls! Oh, this shall be the most wonderful fun, shall it not, Robert?”

  Robert nodded vigorously, careful at last not to speak with a last piece of cake in his mouth.

  “You have done a remarkable job, both of you boys, in constructing these devices,” Lizzy complimented the lads. “Now, I do believe I hear our carriage.” She turned to their host. “Thank you, on all our behalves, Mr. Darcy, for your time and for the means to construct these fascinating tools. You have been most generous and I believe we have all enjoyed ourselves.”

  The boys also thanked him quite properly and sincerely, and within moments, they were in their carriage, periscopes nestled safely in velvet bags and held close to excited chests, and heading towards home, with the promise of the most fun the following morning.

  Chapter Eighteen

  At the Park

  The following day dawned bright and clear, to everyone’s satisfaction. Before Elizabeth entered the breakfast room, she could hear her cousins chattering with their parents in gleeful anticipation of the day’s adventure. Young James, feeling rather left out of events, was to come along with his sisters for a quick demonstration of the periscopes, after which the younger children would return to the house for their lessons. Had Elizabeth not been well used to a house full of the hubbub and giggles of five sisters, she might have been quite disconcerted at the noise and energy in the room.

  As it was, she was just as excited as her cousins, and it was with great satisfaction that Mr. Darcy arrived not too long after, followed in short order by Robert. “My brother Teddy wishes to meet us in the park for a few minutes,” he sputtered, eyes wide, “and Francie too, even though she’s sixteen and thinks herself much too ladylike for such games. Will anybody mind?”

  Thus it was that a small army of participants and observers paraded to the park shortly after ten o’clock that morning. The boys proudly exhibited and demonstrated their periscopes to all, letting each try the devices. Robert’s two older siblings expressed their admiration for the devices and asked several excellent questions, which Mr. Darcy answered with great patience, before they bid the company an excellent day and returned to their studies. Now the younger children spent a few minutes peering through the periscopes. “Birdies!” Julia cried in glee. “Birdies, upside down! Where are the birdies?” She spun around in circles looking for the birds she had seen and then asked Miss Pierce if she could have more seed to feed them. At this, Samuel inhaled sharply and his eyes went wide with alarm, but Elizabeth could see him shake off the memory of the recent ill-fated encounter with the birds and regain his ease. How proud she was of her young cousin! Such a response might be quite innate for someone like his friend Robert, but for Sammy, it was the culmination of a great amount of work, and the effort was now bearing fruit! She beamed at him and he, catching her eye, beamed back. He knew what he had achieved and was pleased with himself.

  But there were other matters to attend now! There was a game to play! Mr. Darcy called the two youths to him to rehearse the aims and rules of the game and the three of them disappeared into the foliage to begin to set up their clues. The boys would head in separate directions, and Mr. Darcy, so they had planned, would visit with each to offer any assistance that might be needed until such time as the search would begin. Elizabeth sat conversing happily with Miss Pierce and the younger cousins whilst she waited, enjoying the fine day. With Samuel now oc
cupied elsewhere and safe from assault, the governess handed both Julia and Helena small bags of seeds to toss to the birds, and they called after them, crying, “Caw, caw,” and chasing the pigeons back into the sky. How different were these little girls from their older brother.

  And then, at last, the game began and Miss Pierce returned to the house with the three younger children. Samuel and Robert reconvened, shook hands with the solemnity of two men about to engage in a duel, and disappeared once more in search of their quarries. Samuel would seek whatever object Robert had chosen, and Robert would seek Samuel’s. The first to present his quarry would be declared the winner.

  For some time, Elizabeth and Darcy sat on the chosen bench in the shade of some old oak trees, talking about the boys, their game, and various other topics as they arose naturally in the conversation, whilst watching the world unfold before them. First out to enjoy the park were the members of the wealthy merchant class, smartly dressed children accompanied by efficient and brisk governesses, marvels of efficiency and good breeding and the promise of a new future. These were the children not of privilege, but of hard work, and their guardians chosen for ability rather than suitable parentage. “This is the future,” Mr. Darcy said. “These are the children who will grow into the leaders of tomorrow. Industry is changing the world, and our own pampered class will not fare well before their honest toil and superior education and training. Indeed. These are your cousins and their friends.”

  “I had thought you too fine to associate with mere tradesmen, Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth teased. “I recall some rather cutting words upon our first attempt at playing the parts of pleasant company.”

  The gentleman blushed. “I am not too proud to admit where I was mistaken. I have learned a great deal since we first met, and my eyes have been opened not only to myself, but to the world around me.”

  Somewhat later came the children of the lower echelons of the gentry, families like Elizabeth’s own, whose gentleman father might, but did not, have a house in London, but who were not considered quite of the right circles. Then the ladies, out for their morning walks, sometimes in pairs or small groups, sometimes on the arms of a beau or—shockingly enough—husband. Being close to the centre of town, smartly dressed members of the various branches of the military strutted along the paths, as did well-dressed lawyers and businessmen, foppish social climbers, pastry-sellers and the occasional elegantly clothed gentleman. It was a microcosm of London’s society, and Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy observed it all as they sat happily in the midst of the action.

  “We might be waiting for some time,” Mr. Darcy stretched as he surveyed the park. “‘Tis a glorious day and I would not wish to hurry the lads along, for they might well wish to enjoy the park. May I interest you in a game?” He reached into the bag he carried and withdrew a beautifully inlaid box, which, when opened, proved to be a chess board and which held a full set of miniature men.

  “I am hardly of a mind to pay serious attention to such a game, Mr. Darcy!”

  “I had not thought to engage in serious competition, merely to amuse ourselves whilst we wait. I shall not think for more than twenty seconds on each move, if that reassures you.”

  She had to laugh at his sincerity in his attempt to be frivolous. “Then I would be pleased. My father sends me puzzles to work out from time to time, on how to achieve mate within so many moves. I know that more accomplished players do not need the board, but can imagine the pieces with such clarity that they can achieve these puzzles in their minds. I am not of that calibre.”

  “One can,” the gentleman offered in a wistful voice, “spend too much time in one’s own head.” He began to set up the board on the bench between them. “Shall we play?”

  As they began the opening game, they talked of matters general and inconsequential. Mr. Darcy was becoming more comfortable with small talk, at least amongst those he knew and trusted. The air was fresh and the sun warm, and the general activity in the park gave them plenty about which to chat. Birds floated above them, then landed on the gravel path before their bench.

  “Oh!” Lizzy chuckled. One flying creature strutted towards her and began pecking at her hem. “What can he want?”

  “There must be some of your cousins’ birdseed caught in the lace at the bottom of your frock.” Mr. Darcy started to reach down, but then recalled himself. “May I?” The look on his face betrayed his conflicting wishes to rid them of the pest and maintain gentlemanly propriety. Was he, too, reliving the ordeal that Samuel had suffered only days before at the hands—or wings—of such flying creatures?

  Lizzy kicked at her skirts and the bird scuttled off, and the chess game continued.

  Of Samuel and Robert, there was no sign, until about an hour after they began their game, when Robert’s fair head appeared from around a curve in the path.

  “Mr. Darcy, sir, I am in need of help, sir! I was following Sam’s signs and signals, and all was going so well, and then, well I just lost them! I looked everywhere, and not only did I lose the next clue, but I lost my previous position as well, and I am afraid I will never complete his game. Sir. I’m so sorry to bother you. But can you help me, please?”

  Questioning green eyes met Elizabeth’s amber ones and she smiled indulgently. “Do not worry on my account, sir. Go. The boys need you. I was expecting this, and have brought along a book, but if you would leave this board, perhaps I can attempt one of Papa’s puzzles. I shall be most happy here until you return.” At this assurance, Mr. Darcy rose and followed Robert back into the foliage in their attempt to regain the trail.

  Elizabeth set up the board with the few men her father had indicated and began to search for the pattern that would lead to a checkmate in four moves. The pigeon, however, had returned and now would not leave her alone, hoping, perhaps, for some more seed from the lacy folds at the bottom of her petticoat, and failing that, from her hand or reticule. It hopped upon the small chess board, scattering pieces as it pecked at her hands and strutting around as if it had won the game.

  “Checkmate, Mr. Pigeon. One move. My king is dead!” She giggled at the inanity of it and shooed the bird off, attempting her father’s task one more time.

  For a time, Elizabeth worked contentedly at her puzzle, not expecting her companion to return too soon, and thus she was rather taken aback to hear someone call her name.

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet! I am most surprised to see you here, but equally delighted!”

  With alarm, she looked up to see none other than Mr. Wickham standing before her, elegant and handsome, dressed in the brilliant scarlet coat of his militia and looking nothing at all like the reprobate she now knew him to be. He dropped into a beautiful bow and rose again to bestow upon her a radiant smile. Quickly schooling her features, Elizabeth resolved to greet him properly but coolly, hoping he would not linger.

  Not so long ago, she realised, she would have been rather pleased to see him standing thus before her, greeting her with such enthusiasm. She had enjoyed his cheerful manners, pleasing features and easy conversation. There had been such an expression of goodness in his countenance! such an openness and gentleness in his manner! How much had she anticipated those first few encounters, when he had favoured her and her alone, when his disparaging remarks about Mr. Darcy confirmed her imagined attraction to him, leaving her more confident in her supposedly unerring judgement of character! And now, oh how erroneous had that judgement proven to have been!

  Those easy, smooth, and charming words that had danced off his tongue had beguiled her as much as his bright eyes, handsome face and elegant figure. He had flattered her, and she had succumbed. When compared with those awful, stilted attempts at conversation with Mr. Darcy, before she knew the man and what struggles he contended with, Mr. Wickham’s conquest was assured. Now she berated herself: she ought to have been concerned at his flippant disclosure of personal relationships, of his willingness to speak so ill of someone immediately upon assuring her he would never do such a thing.

 
; His exact words, unbidden, came to mind: “Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him.” And she had believed him. Flattered, reassured of her powers of observation and convinced of her infallibility, she had believed him. What a petty, unthinking girl she had been! How deceiving first impressions could be.

  But that time had passed, and armed with better knowledge of herself, of Mr. Darcy, and of Mr. Wickham too, Elizabeth stared up into the eyes she had once found so appealing, but which now sent a slight chill down her spine. She returned his greeting, but with no warmth in her voice.

  “Good day, Mr. Wickham.” She inclined her head but did not invite him to sit. However, the officer did not seem to take note of her subtle cut and seated himself on the bench, regardless. Realising she had no recourse but to converse, or seem very rude—which would invite unwanted questions—she inquired after his health.

  “I am most well, Miss Elizabeth, as are you, I do hope. We have missed you in Meryton these past weeks.”

  “Yes,” she replied, “I have been visiting my dear friend Charlotte Collins in Kent.”

  “Ah, Kent. I spent many happy days there in my youth when I was in the old Mr. Darcy’s good graces. He was wont to include me in many family excursions when I was a lad. Will and I were great friends, keeping each other amused until it was time for the heir apparent to appear before his relations. The cousin—Anne, you must surely have met her if you were at all about Rosings—was never at all amusing, and two young boys must have their merriments. Ah yes, Mr. Darcy treated me near on as a son.” He paused dramatically, then added, “I was never so happy as to achieve that affection from his heir, I’m afraid.”

  Elizabeth said nothing, but smiled weakly, wondering what Mr. Wickham hoped to gain by reigniting her distaste for the younger Mr. Darcy. Did he hope to cajole her into some nefarious plot against the man? Or did he merely wish to reassure himself through association with like-minded people of his righteous dislike of Mr. Darcy? Whatever his motivation, Elizabeth was of no mind to hear it, and she mumbled something meaningless as she cast her glance around, hoping to find an excuse to leave her unwanted companion. But Mr. Wickham kept talking. “What do you now in London, madam? I ask, because I had not expected to be here myself, let alone find a familiar—and lovely—face.”