'Thank you, Mrs Darcy, and let me return the compliment. Your dress is as magnificent as yourself, and the accessories were chosen by a master. Once
I do find my Mrs Grenfell I will advise her to use your seamstress. I have heard you are an excellent horse-woman and an even more active walker?'
Miss Bingley again, undoubtedly relating how Mr Darcy tolerated his wife rambling for hours all by herself.
'I certainly like to walk, but in fact I haven't had the pleasure of really being able to ride well until these last four months. But I find great satisfaction in it, mostly because my husband happened to have the most adorable little mare in his stables that I took to immediately, and who takes great care of me in return. She's an absolute treasure.'
Talking about riding positively softened him, and Elizabeth trusted that by the time the dance ended he would feel much less ruffled by Fitzwilliam's refusal to have him over this summer.
'Too bad there is so much snow at the moment, or we could all ride out. I've heard so much about the beauty of the country around here, I had hoped to explore.'
'Do you have a riding horse with you then, Mr Grenfell, I gathered you had all arrived by carriage?'
'We're no more than a day's ride from my estate, had the weather been clement I would have sent for my hunter. But as it is we'll have to amuse ourselves with indoor sports. I may even catch me something tonight, figuratively speaking of course.'
Whatever could he mean? Elizabeth gathered she'd rather not know, and since by now the dance was almost over, and she was getting rather tired with all the talk and all the dancing, she took leave very politely, and joined Jane and Bingley at a table to take a little rest. Besides conversing lively with both of them, her father and the Gardiners, and of course Fitzwilliam who joined her pretty soon after, she observed Kitty dancing with Mr Lascelles, the exotic-looking and very smart fellow she liked a lot, and they seemed to have a really good time. Elizabeth dared not even consider Kitty attaching a man of that class, she was pretty, but somehow Elizabeth had never taken her second youngest sister seriously, with her whining spells and her thoughtless imitation of Lydia's manners. But she had improved a lot, and she certainly had had a very nice evening with plenty of partners.
They found out that the Gardiners were planning to return to their children as soon as the weather allowed it, and though that was a bit disappointing, they would all meet at Christmas, which was less than two weeks away.
From where she was sitting, Elizabeth could see Mr Grenfell spending all his time and charms on Miss Bingley, who received them with pleasure and encouragement. It was a little worrying to be sure, for if they married, Mr Grenfell would also have to be included in their intimate circle, but most of all, Elizabeth feared Miss Bingley would greatly rue that marriage, and not just because Grenfell was sure to smell of horse again once the weather turned.
'Did you know Mr Hurst can actually talk, Fitzwilliam?'
'You mean in sentences? And about other things than food and cards?'
'Yes, I had the most surprising conversation with him just now. He asked me to dance, again, and after he had flattered me outrageously he told me he worried about his sister-in-law marrying unwisely. Actually, he challenged me to deny Mr Grenfell being a self-congratulatory, acquisitive pig. His actual words, not mine. I couldn't, of course.'
'You couldn't say that of someone?'
'No, I couldn't deny his words. Do you worry for her?'
Fitzwilliam looked grave and admitted in a serious voice, 'I do. Grenfell asked me outright to be invited to Pemberley and to be allowed to court my sister, and I told him we'd already asked Mr Manners over this summer, and that Georgie was still too young to consider a marriage. He did not take it well and made it very clear that by this time next year he would have made an advantageous match and our chance would have passed. He is serious all right.'
'But do you think she'll regret it?'
'I don't know, Elizabeth, I always thought her rather petty and shallow, so maybe she doesn't care. But I suppose Hurst knows her better. Do you want to dance with me again?'
'Always, my love.'
After another hour of merriment, the orchestra fell silent, and Bingley addressed his guests.
'Ladies and gentlemen, we've had every opportunity to dance, and we will again. For now, it has come to the orchestra's attention that we have a truly superior pianist in our midst, and they have requested to be allowed to accompany her in several classical pieces. So I beg you to please sit down and enjoy the superior music of Miss Georgiana Darcy on the piano, accompanied by the Meryton Merry Ten!'
All the guests applauded and gathered around the musicians on whatever seats they could find. Before Elizabeth and Darcy could feel apprehension over Georgiana's willingness to perform for so many people and without practising, she had already started a virtuous piece, and one by one the other musicians joined in. The effect was amazing, Georgie looked like a picture of a concert pianist, beautiful and elegant, and superbly concentrated. The entire room was hushed instantly, no-one even moved on their chair, for the sound would have disturbed the entertainment. If Darcy hadn't heard Mr Fielding play he would have thought his sister was ready for the stage, and he just knew most people would think exactly that. The violins, the flutes, the trumpets, they all matched her perfectly, and everyone sat in trance for as long as the show lasted.
Everyone except Grenfell, for Darcy checked the crowd to see how he reacted to Georgie's skill and he wasn't there. Mr Manners had been listening with great enjoyment, and when Georgiana was finished and the crowd had applauded and was back to the dance floor, he looked her up and talked to her for a few moments. Then he took his leave, was he going to bed this early? Well, actually, it was rather late already, Bingley and Jane looked ready for their first night together, they had waited so long, and now they wanted to be alone. Well, Darcy was not going to fault them for it.
Georgie said good night and left with Kitty and Maria, they had offered to share a room to enable all the guests to stay overnight. Netherfield was very large, but with so many guests staying in the heart of winter there had been a little shuffling to find all the guests a suitable chamber that could be heated properly and had a usable bed. He actually wondered how many guests he would be able to put up himself in any comfort at Pemberley, so many rooms had not really been used for years, they could not be made habitable on such short notice.
And now he could see Elizabeth trying to catch his attention, she obviously thought it was time to go to bed as well. Darcy started to feel some excitement, another few minutes and he would be on his way to their own room with his beloved. A little undressing and taking off the gilding to be done, and then they would be all by themselves, ready for a long, dark night together, his dearest wish come true.
End of part 1
This is the end of part one of Revelations. Darcy has found his soulmate, but
will his sister be as fortunate? Georgiana is just sixteen, and still enjoying her new situation at home, with her adored brother around all the time and Elizabeth an excellent example of an independent woman. And yet, men are already vying for Georgiana's attention. Do they admire her for herself, or for her fortune? Will she be forced to make a choice between elegance and eligibility? Find out in the second part of Revelations, due to be published this spring.
If you liked the first part of Revelations and would like to read more by the same author, you can check out Mirror Bound, a unique story set in the Victorian era, or one of my other adaptations of classic novels. Feeling sorry for the male main characters I have written alternative endings of both Jane Eyre and Mansfield Park. To get an impression you can read an author's note and the first few pages of each of these stories here.
Deliverance: an adaptation of Jane Eyre
Author's note
This is one of those 'what if' adaptations. I've always wondered why Mr Rochester had to be broken so thoroughly before he could be happy with Jane Eyre. What
if she had not been able to get away, what if he had been waiting by her door a second time, pleading her to stay? Would she indeed have lost herself and been made his mistress? Or would they have managed to live together as brother and sister?
The story starts at the end of chapter 27, when Jane has gathered her meagre personal belongings in a parcel, tied on her straw bonnet, pinned on her shawl and steals away from her room.
Chapter 1
'Jane..'
My master's voice sounded in the dark of the hallway, transformed beyond recognition...by my own racked conscience no doubt. I was merely hearing things in the fevered haste of my departure. Though almost certainly still wide awake, Mr Rochester would not be out there, outside my door for the second time that night, he must be in his own room, pacing from wall to wall with restlessness caused by guilt and passion. He did not expect me to leave.
I headed towards the stairs, silently bidding farewell to kind Mrs Fairfax and dear Adele, dreading the moment I'd have to pass my master's door, would have to resist the temptation to embrace delirious joy and sin.
'Jane..'
I had not imagined the voice! Though further away this time, its anguish was unmistakable, where was its strength? Its certainty to be heard and obeyed?
Though still driven by the phantom of my dream and my own sense of self-worth, I could not help turning around to face that voice. I saw nothing but dark, however much my eyes strained to discern the beloved shape of my
master, now in dire need.
'So you meant what you said, you are leaving, and without so much as a word of farewell, or a sovereign on you?'
I nodded, unable to withstand that voice, the love in it, the pain. He wouldn't see in the pitch dark, but he would know.
By now, my resolve was wavering, my shock at having been caught held me motionless; the sound of suffering in Mr Rochester's voice drained my energy to virtually nothing. The worst day of my life had seamlessly flowed into the next, and I was suddenly tired to the death.
'I'm so sorry I ruined everything, dear Jane, will you not let me make it up to you? Do you truly wish to tear both our hearts out? Live loveless and destitute among strangers, with not just the agony of your own bleeding heart, but knowing I'll go savage with pain and guilt?
You've seen me desperate, Jane, do you think I'll not be howling mad within a week?'
There was no way I could leave, my legs refusing to bear my weight any longer I could not run from my master, nor did I want to. I wanted that voice to find a semblance of peace, and then I wanted to sleep, preferably never to wake up again. Could I yet avoid giving my master what he craved, what he needed to be happy? Didn't he deserve to be happy, for once in his life, even if it cost me my self-respect, the only thing I had left after having my love desecrated and my hopes crushed?
'Jane, will you please stay, and make my life worth living?'
How I ached to feel those arms around me, to embrace that solid chest, to stroke that raven hair and kiss that stern brow. If I went to him, he would be strong again, and I so needed that strength, for I had none left of my own.
He did not pick me up this time; for minutes, nothing happened. I sought support against the wall or I would have fallen down, to which my pride objected, its last feeble convulsion before I smothered it to death and delivered myself to a life of denigration and servitude. To be a mistress, how the very thought repulsed me, how I would loathe myself the rest of my life, but I needed to be loved right now or perish; and I could not condemn my master to solitude and self-destruction, I'd rather die on the inside myself.
My eyes by now could discern some vague shapes in the pitch dark, the straight lines of the walls and floor, the vertical posts of the doors. The only irregular shape was as unmoving, as solid as the rest.
He would make me come to him of my own free will; at least, that was what
it would seem to him if I walked towards that still shape and delivered myself to it, body and soul. He had never been dependent on anyone, not like I had been and was destined to be, my master did not understand that I no longer had the will or the physical strength to remove myself from him. He would take what dignity I still possessed, without realising my sacrifice.
Mr Rochester would expect me to be happy in his arms, safe from want and loved but despised by myself and everyone else but him, less free than I had ever been, even locked in the red room at Gateshead. I expected to be miserable, but still I shuffled towards him, holding on to the wall for support.
Of course he could hardly stand to see me like that, he loved me, he had done this to me. I could discern him now, sitting cross-legged on the floor, his face still agonized but hope already lighting his strong features. I was afraid of his dominance, as his wife I would have teased him until I found my courage, as his mistress he would rule me until he got tired of my meekness, my lack of spirit; with luck, he'd realise who had broken my spirit and leave me not entirely destitute and loveless.
But do not think these black thoughts in any way spoiled my intense satisfaction in entering those arms, spread now in welcome; do not think I did not rejoice in seeing his face clear altogether, the happiness on it now real, visible even in the dark of night. For a few blessed moments I felt I had done the right thing, had given my master what I desperately wanted to give him, saw him at peace, in the possession of what he wanted more than anything in the world. Me
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Mansfield Park The Crawfords' redemption Author's note
This story has been brewing in my mind for years. Compared to the other Jane Austen heroines Fanny has always been a bit sad, lacking the self-respect and the sense of humour that Miss Austen's lead characters are famed for. Each time I re-read the book, I thought she deserved better than just be happy with Edmund, of course it is what she wanted, but think of the sickly children they'd have, the heartbreak that would give them, and how humble she'd still be, the quiet, boring life she'd lead, always afraid of doing wrong, always at the beck and call of others.
And poor Henry Crawford, he was really trying, but suddenly an all-powerful writer forced him into an elopement he hadn't been working towards, he had already improved so much, and let's be honest, in our days his conduct would make him irresistible, his sense of humour, his unexpected devotion to a girl no-one else had ever wanted to please, not even Edmund. My sympathies have always been with him, the fallible guy with a sense of humour and true feeling, not even handsome, spoiled and led astray by his upbringing, but very willing to improve to live up to Fanny's standard.
Chapter 1
As he drove away from Portsmouth towards London, Henry could no longer deceive himself: the sweet tempered and artless girl he had fallen for, whom he had offered to sacrifice his freedom to, did not love him.
On that trip, passing beautiful natural scenery as well as picturesque villages without even seeing them, he finally realised he had been fooled by her mild manners and loving personality into believing himself loved by the sweetest, most tender-hearted creature in existence.
Of course she had not only rejected him when he proposed to her, she had afterwards told him repeatedly that she didn't like his attentions, that she wanted him to stop talking to her about his love and affection, but her manner had not been truly repulsive and without such proof of her dislike his vanity had not been able to accept that an unsophisticated, unspoiled girl like Fanny could resist all his attempts to please her. She had to like him, women always liked him, loved him, tried to hold on to him.
How could it be that he had fallen deeply, hopelessly in love with the one
superior creature he could not convince of his honourable intentions? Was this his punishment for having played with women's feelings all his adult life? For having broken so many hearts with his flippant gallantry, his easy manners? Was the first time he had ever fallen in love himself to be the time he would have his own heart broken for good? He could not imagine a life without her, how could any woman ever live up t
o her standard, how could he ever fall in love with someone less perfect?
His newly found insight in how things really were between them was a bitter pill to swallow, worse, for it could not be done in but a moment, with only a faint after-taste of disappointment. No, the realisation that she had been wishing him elsewhere all the time that he had been convinced he was creating a sincere affection in her, was deeply humiliating and genuinely hurtful.
Fanny had not been happy to see him, his coming had embarrassed her, he guessed she thought him indelicate in his expressions of his love for her, as reasonable and as guarded as they seemed to him. He was glad he had chosen to visit as William's friend instead of Fanny's admirer, or his case must have been utterly hopeless by now, the love burning inside him wasted forever.
He flattered himself that she had seemed to look upon him with less disfavour than on his previous visits at Mansfield Park, but he also realised some of those tender feelings might very well have been due to her missing her home exceedingly, despite the careless way she was treated by nearly anyone there, her qualities undervalued or even derided by her relations of inferior temperament and understanding.
Of course Bertram did give her all the love and the most attention he could, but who could compare the value a cousin had for his younger niece to the ardent feelings she had created in him, the need he felt to protect her, the happiness he wanted to give to her?
And Sir Thomas meant well, but that gentleman's interference on Henry's behalf had done his suit no good, he was certain of that. His sweet, sensitive Fanny had such a fear of her uncle's severity that it had hurt her more than once, her uncle probably urging her to accept an offer that was so advantageous to his family, financially and with regards to connections.
Henry had seen her pale complexion, her reddened eyes, on the day after he had asked her uncle for permission to wed his niece.
Revelations Page 58
