Jump to new as of June 5, 2000
Posted on Monday, 29 November 1999, at 4 : 31 p.m.
It was a cold winter night and would've been a beautiful one, the darkest of the year, if it wasn't for the war. Stars were twinkling high up in the sky but they were almost impossible to see because of all the smoke, fire and smell of destruction that hung in the air. In a small cottage in the outskirts of the village, a once happy family sat around the table in their small kitchen. None of them could sleep. This night reminded too much of a similar one, exactly one year ago.
It had been dark and cold on that night too. The stars had been twinkling just like now. But there was one major difference: there had been peace. The war was still a long way from the little cottage where they lived. This night everyone was sleeping peacefully in their beds. At least until there was a loud bang on the door. Mr. Bennet, the head of the family, had gone to open the door. When he came back his head hung and he was as pale as the dead. He had been informed that every man between 15 and 45 were to be drafted. He himself was 49 so it didn't concern him. But his five kids were all sons. The youngest was fifteen and the oldest twenty. They were all to be drafted. There was nothing to do about it.
As he sat by the kitchen table with his wife this night he was worried sick. He hadn't heard a word from any of the lads in a while and they used to write a letter at least once a month. All but little Noah of course. He, their youngest son, had been killed after a mere week in action. They still kept the black letter with the sad news on the chimney piece in the cottage.
A loud bang was heard. There was someone at the doorstep. As Mr. and Mrs. Bennet went to open they knew all hope was out. And when they saw the express standing outside Mrs. Bennet started crying. With a grim expression on his face Mr. Bennet tipped the express who gave him the letter and then vanished into the night, the sound of hooves clapping the only trace he left.
I am sorry to
My condolences,
Colonel FitzwilliamMr. and Mrs. Morrison,
inform you of the deaths
of your four sons. They
fought bravely until
their last breaths.
There was no hope left. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet slowly ceased to exist after this dreadful piece of news. When the clergyman came to give them the blessing on their deathbeds he saw the two sad letters on the chimney piece. When Mr. and Mrs. Bennet drew their last breaths they were happy. Soon they would meet their sons again.
Part 2
Author's note: I know that this story begun in a rather serious way. Well, this part of it has nothing even remotely serious. I'm sorry if you don't like silly stories, but my mind wandered off on its own (and nearly got lost). Also, I'm sorry for my mistake in the first part. It was supposed to be Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, not Mr. and Mrs. Morrison as I wrote. When I wrote the story in school, I used the name Morrison, and forgot to change it in all the places, and of course, in the most important part of the story.... :)I don't know if you've seen it, but there's a miniseries about a girl called Millie (based on a book by Catherine Cookson). The guy I think Millie should've married was played by Crispin Bonham-Carter. I think he was called Thomas Bertram, but I'm not sure. The guy she eventually married was (I think) called Ben. I think this explains some things later on in the story. All things written in capitals (except one, you'll understand with one) is the author (that's me!) speaking. Enough of my tiresome explanations, on with this silly story...
Before Mr. Bennet even had time to get cold in his grave Mr. Collins moved into the little cottage Mr. Bennet had left (it was entailed away to him). Mr. Collins was a distant cousin of his and he could perhaps have been called his son. The family had frozen them both out after Mary Bennet married him. That would've been the case for anyone who married that tedious man. He was a man to laugh at, joke about and tease, not a man to marry. But Miss Mary Bennet was different. She had been twenty-two when she had first set her eyes upon him. He was the ideal husband. Slimy and greasy haired. Oh, what a marvellous man! Mary had almost fainted. Of course she didn't, but it's the thought that counts. Mary had shyly looked down on the pages of Fordyce's Sermons and daydreamed a bit. (Nothing improper of course.) Mr. Collins appeared to like her, the eldest of six siblings! One month later they married in the church at Rosings.
Now, enough of that, back to the present. The cottage wasn't very big and didn't give any money but, as Mr. Collins used to be the noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh's clergyman, he had earned a bit of money and with Mary as his wife he had saved quite a lot. One could say many things about her, but that she spent all their money (or any at all) on the latest fashion, was not such a thing.
She had been Mrs. Collins for four years now and she had been happy every second of those years. She still loved her husband very much, although he wasn't her greatest love. That was Fordyce, but Mr. Collins came second and that was quite enough. You'd be surprised to know how much love she had in her.
The couple in the cottage had two daughters, Jane and Elizabeth. Jane was a bright haired person with pale skin. Her sister was quite the opposite. She was dark haired and had a wild mind that got her into trouble every now and then.
As the two sisters grew up they became very beautiful in their own special ways. Jane had many admirers and Elizabeth, even though she had fewer, had some really devoted ones. But neither one of the sisters liked any of the admirers. They had no 'marriage potential', it was as simple as that. But it would change....
One day Mr. Collins came running home to the cottage. Since that was a sight rarely to be seen, Mary thought that something dreadful had happened and hurried out to meet her husband.
"My dear, dear Mary. Netherfield Park is let at last."
"Oh."
"Well, do you not want to know who's taken it?"
"I'm sure you want to tell me, so go ahead."
"It's a young man of large fortune, a single young man of large fortune. What a fine thing for our girls."
"How so? How can it affect them?"
"You must see I'm thinking of him marrying one of them."
"Is that his design in settling here?"
"Design? Do not speak such nonsense. But he may very well fall in love with one of them."
"Oh, my dear Mr. Collins, that would be possible I guess. Now, let's go inside."
A month later a ball was held at Netherfield. During the month that had passed Jane had met and fallen in love with Mr. Bingley, the 'single young man of large fortune'. He had come with his sisters to the neighborhood and it was rumored that a friend of his would come to the ball. Among the gossip that was going around about him was that he was unmarried and rich, richer than Mr. Bingley. He was said to have ten thousand pounds a year. At least that was what Mr. Collins told everyone. And if someone knew anything about Mr. Bingley's friend, it was he. He had, as you know, been the clergy at Rosings where Lady Catherine lived and the gentleman that'd come to the ball was no other than her nephew's son Mr. Darcy.
The day of the ball came and Mr. Collins and his daughters went to Netherfield. Mary took no delight in dancing and therefore she stayed at home, reading Fordyce's Sermons. At the same time as the Collinses arrived at the ball, a dark-haired girl named Millie also came.
Later in the evening, Jane had been talking to Lizzy for a while and now she went to find Mr. Bingley again. She spotted him in the other end of the room and started walking towards him. From a third end of the room Millie also started approaching him.
"Mr. Bingley", said Jane.
"Mr. Bertram", said Millie.
"Bertram?"
"Bingley?"
"He's mine!"
"No, he's mine, and mine only."
"I don't think so, he's mine!"
"No, mine, mine, mine!"
"You want to take it outside?" Jane asked.
"Why don't we take it in here?"
"Fine!"
"Alrighty then."
Jane and Millie started fighting, hitting and pinching at each other.
"Ladies, will you please listen to me for a moment?" Bingley asked.
They ignored him and continued with their fight.
"Ladies, ladies!" He tried once again the get their attention. Once again, they ignored him. He put his hands up to his mouth and shouted:
"LADIES!"
They stopped fighting and looked at him.
"What?"
"Well... um... actually my name is Crispin Bonham-Carter."
"Crispin Bonham... What?"
"Carter."
"Why?"
"It's not my fault that I'm considered to be the Bingley or the Bertram. It's the scriptwriters' and the author's fault."
"MY FAULT?"
"Yes, it was you who mixed these to stories."
"OKAY, OKAY! I'LL FIX IT!"
"You don't have to. I don't want him anymore," said Millie.
"WHY NOT?"
"Because I'm marrying another guy, Ben. He's a poor hunchback, at least ten years older than I am and like a brother to me. It was when Mr. Bertram told me he love me I realised that I loved Ben."
"But what about me?" Jane asked.
"I could be Bingley and marry you. I mean, that's what I'm supposed to do." Bingley/Bertram/Bonham-Carter said.
"GOOD! IS EVERYBODY HAPPY?"
"Yes!" they all said in unison.
Chapter Three
In the mean time at the other end of the ball room.
Elizabeth stood by herself in a corner of the room, looking (as she thought) discretely at a tall, dark-haired man. She knew exactly who he was. It was rather difficult to avoid knowing it after Mr. Collins' display (he had shouted, at the top of his lungs: "Look there's Mr. Darcy. He has ten thousand a year and a great estate called Pemberley in Derbyshire!") earlier in the evening. As she stood there watching him (Mr. Darcy, not Mr. Collins) she noticed a servant walking towards her end of the room. He was carrying a 10-gallon bucket and Lizzy thought that it was rather odd to be carrying one around at a ball. But she was sure he had some reason.
In the mean time.
Mr. Darcy had positioned himself in a not so crowded part of the ballroom since he despised these kinds of social events. Well, to be honest, not just these kinds of social events, but all sorts of them. This evening tended to be rather awful. He had not been there more than half a minute before a hideous man called Mr. Collins had made everyone aware of his presence and large fortune. A night like every other, in other words. That always happened. Only, it tended to be middle-aged, hysterical women who made the announcements, not chubby, greasy, toad-like men. But, well, honestly, it was nice with a bit of a change for once. Mr Darcy was looking, not so discretely, but very openly, at a lady in the other end of the room, when he saw a footman walking towards her with a large bucket. As he wondered why, someone knocked him on his shoulder. It was another footman. With another bucket. It was full of water. Cold water he noticed when the footman poured it all over him.
"Hey! What was that for?" he shouted.
"Excuse me, Sir, but it looked as if you needed it."
"Well, don't do it again!"
"I can't promise that, sir. If I see that you need it, I will do it. We don't want you to embarrass the other guests."
"No, I guess not. Now, off you go!"
"Yes, sir."
The footman scurried off with the bucket, that wasn't as heavy any longer.
At the other end of the ball room.
While Lizzy watched the servant with the 10 gallon bucket, she realized that he was walking towards her.
"Excuse me, Miss, but we thought you needed this," he said and put the bucket on the floor in front of her.
"Why on earth would I need it?"
"Well, pardon me for saying it, Miss, but your drooling. Look at the floor. If you go on like this, Miss, the ballroom will be flooded."
Lizzy looked down at the floor and saw a huge pool of what seemed to be water. It wasn't however, she now noticed that she was, indeed, drooling.
"Thank you. You may go now," she said to the footman who, after bowing (well, actually, he curtsied, but he'd rather not have me telling everyone about it), left her alone with the bucket. It was already half full. She looked at Mr. Darcy again, and saw a footman leaving him with a bucket. He himself was drenched. He looked up at her, and seeing her staring at him, decided to leave his corner of the room.
"Excuse me, Miss, I know we aren't properly introduced, but you must now who I am."
"Yes, Mr. Darcy, my father told everyone when you came here."
"Oh, that was your father..."
"Yes... I'm Miss Elizabeth Collins. Your friend Mr. Bingley is in love with my sister Jane. And before you talk him out of asking her to marry him, let me tell you that she loves him too. Oh, and about Wickham, he's told me that you are a horrible person."
"Well, he's lying. He tried to elope with my sister - she's just 15 years old. I am attracted to you, I admit, but your station is so much below mine. And, I don't like your family... Your father is embarrassing, and even though I haven't met your mother, I say that she is smart, but that she has her moments of clumsy behaviour too."
"I know that when you get to know me better you'll learn to love me. I'm already attracted to you, and although I hate you at the moment, I will soon love you. So, why don't we skip all that unnecessary time between us arguing and loving each other. Why don't we get married right now?"
"Sounds like a good idea. Let's go find Mr. Bingley and your sister."
And they went, Lizzy on Mr. Darcy's arm, to the other end of the ballroom, where Mr Bingley and Jane stood behind a large plant making out.
*Discrete coughing from both Mr. Darcy and Lizzy*
No reaction.
*A little louder cough from Lizzy*
Still no reaction.
*Serious attack of coughing from Mr Darcy.*
"Are they deaf?"
*COUGH, COUGH, COUGH*
A blushing Jane and an equally embarrassed Mr Bingley parted.
"Finally! We were beginning to think that you'd never stop," said Lizzy while looking at her sister.
"Well, we, ah..." said Mr. Bingley.
"Since he's getting paid for being here, we thought we'd make the most of it. Besides, we're getting married tomorrow," said Jane.
"What do you mean 'he's getting paid'?" both Lizzy and Darcy asked.
"Well, I'm not really Mr. Bingley. My name is Crispin Bonham-Carter and I'm an actor."
"Hi Crispin," Jane, Lizzy and Mr. Darcy said in unison, only to look puzzledly at each other the second after. "Why did we say that?"
"I think the author of this story is joking with you. Since I'm an actor, and evidently from the real world, I know what it was all about."
"What?" Jane, Lizzy and Darcy asked and turned their faces upwards.
YES, IT WAS A JOKE. IN THE REAL WORLD, THERE'S SOMETHING CALLED AA -- ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS. WHEN THEY INTRODUCE THEMSELVES AT THEIR MEETINGS THEY SAY 'HI, MY NAME IS .... AND I'M AN ALCOHOLIC AND EVERYBODY GREETS THAT PERSON BY SAYING 'HI'."
"Oh, alright."
"But, Bingley, what was that you said being an actor?" Darcy asked him.
"Well, as I explained to Jane earlier, I'm an actor called Crispin Bonham-Carter and I'm paid to play the role of Mr. Bingley."
"Okay, but did you two say you are getting married tomorrow? Because, so are we!" Lizzy said, and smiled at the surprised expressions on Jane's and Bingley's (okay, Crispin's) faces.
"Oh, double wedding!" Jane shouted before hugging her sister violently.
Three minutes later, Lizzy's face had gotten a rather bluish color, and it was with extreme difficulty she asked Jane to let her go.
"Sorry. But I was just so excited!"
Now, another couple came up to them. The girl had brown hair, and was rather young. The man by her side was probably about twice her age and had a lump on his back. In short - he was a hunchback.
"Did I hear the words 'double' and 'wedding'?" the girl asked.
"As a matter of fact, you did, Millie," said Jane.
"May I suggest a triple wedding instead? Me and Ben here are getting married tomorrow, and wouldn't it be fun if we all had a huge wedding together?" said the girl we all know as Millie (well, except Darcy and Lizzy of course, but after a few whispering inquiries to Bingley they knew everything).
"That's a great idea, but there's a catch. You're not Austen characters."
"We may not be by Austen, but we have an Austen connection you know."
"And what is that?" the four Austen characters asked.
"We're from a book by Catherine Cookson, and in the miniseries based on that book, Crispin Bonham-Carter here played the role of a rich, handsome man who wanted to marry me. Of course, I had Ben, so I didn't want to marry him, but that's beside the point right now. What I'm trying to say is that Crispin is the connection. He was in our miniseries and now he's Bingley," said Millie, wiping the sweat of her face. "Phew, that was a long explanation. I think it's the longest line in this story so far."
YOU ARE RIGHT, IT IS.
"Mind your own business will you!"
THIS IS MY BUSINESS SINCE IT'S MY STORY.
"Oh, just shut up!" Millie looked upwards with an annoyed expression on her face. Then, turning to the others, her expression changed. "Let's get to bed now. We need some sleep before tomorrow."
"Good idea," Jane said and followed Bingley who had already started to walk to his room.
"In your own beds!" Millie shouted after her, and giggled when she saw the expression on Jane's face.
"I'll arrange with a church and try to get hold of a vicar," said Darcy and left the room.
The next morning, at the church.
"So, who did you get to hold the ceremony, Darcy?" Bingley asked his friend as they stood by the altar.
"Mr Thomas. But I would have thought that he'd be here by now."
"Yes, it's rather strange, don't you think?" said Ben.
"Aren't we going to start the ceremony soon?" asked Jane, Lizzy and Millie who had come into the church after standing outside waiting for what seemed like an eternity.
"Well, we're waiting for the vicar to come," said their fiancés.
Right then, there was a thud, and a sound of something fragile falling to the floor and breaking into a million small pieces. All six of them looked in the direction the sound came from. Through the door came none other than Mr Collins.
"My dear children," he said and smiled (not a pleasant sight),"Mr Thomas fell ill, so I'm going to hold the ceremony instead."
HAHA, REVENGE! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TOLD ME TO SHUT UP!
Darcy backed away from him and turning to Lizzy said; "No offense, Lizzy, but I don't like your father. We're going to Gretna Green this second. Is anyone going to join us?"
"We are," Bingley and Jane said.
"So are we," said Millie and Ben.
HEY, YOU CAN'T DO THAT!
"Yes we can!" And, at the same time, all six of them turned and ran out of the church and jumped into the carriages that were waiting for them. Mr Collins followed them out of the church and tried jumping up next to one of the drivers, but the driver pushed him off, and next thing he knew, Mr Collins lay in the mud on the ground watching three carriages disappear into the distance.
Later that night, all three couple were married and had dinner together. And after that, well, that's another story.
The End.