Prologue

Posted on Saturday, 26 February 2005

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the circus is the greatest show on earth.

However little known is such a circus upon moving into a neighborhood, the truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families that the whole production is bound to be a huge success.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his wife to him one day, a few hours after the tents went up, “have you heard that the animal trainers have come at last?”

Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.

“But they have,” returned she; “for the Bearded Lady has just been here, and she told me all about it.”

Mr. Bennet made no answer.

“Do you not want to know who they are?” cried his wife impatiently.

“You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.”

This was invitation enough.

“Why, my dear, you must know, the Bearded Lady says that the head trainer is a young man with five lions of his own from Senegal; that he came down on Monday in a taxi to view the place; that he is to bring all of his animals before the Opening Show, and some of his cages are to be placed near the big tent by the end of this week.”

“What is his name?”

“Bingley.”

“Is he married or single?”

“Oh! single, my dear, to be sure! A single man with five lions; two females and three males. What a fine thing for our girls.”

“What, the lions? Are you planning on feeding our children to them?”

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” replied his wife, “how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.”

“What, the young man will marry his lioness?”

“Marry his lioness! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he will fall in love with one of our girls, and therefore you must greet him as soon as he comes.”

“I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send them by themselves, maybe with some extra steaks, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley might like you the best of the party.”

“My dear, you flatter me. I certainly have had my share of beauty, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five grown daughters and wears eight pounds of makeup to work, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty.”

“In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of. Hence the makeup.”

“But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes to the circus.”

“It is more than I engage for, I assure you.”

“But consider your daughters. Only think what a break it would be for one of them. Sir William the Magnificent and Lady Glenda are determined to go, merely on that account, for in general, you know, they visit no newcomers. Indeed you must go, for you know I am allergic to cats.”

“You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very glad to see you, red nose and all; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his feeding to his lions whichever he chooses of the girls: though I must throw in a good word for Lydia.”

“I desire you will do no such thing. Lydia is not a bit worse than the others; and I am sure she is not half as meaty as Jane, nor half so well toned as Lizzy. But you are always giving her more of the insults.”

“They have none of them much to recommend them,” replied he; “they are all silly and ignorant, like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of a quickness than the others. She’d probably be able to avoid being eaten.”

“Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves.”

“You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for you nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least.”

“Ah! You don’t know what I suffer.”

“But I hope you get over it and live to see many a young animal trainer with five lions come to the circus.”

“It will be no use to us, if twenty should come, since you will not visit them.”

“Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I shall visit them all.”

Mr. Bennet, or Spanky as he was more commonly known, was such an odd mixture of smiling face, big blue tears, baggy pants with suspenders, and big red nose, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. Bubbles was a woman of bright pink hair, shimmery face paint, and big purple shoes. When she was disconcerted, she fancied herself nervous and blew bubbles. The business of her life was to make balloon animals and get her daughters married; its solace was children’s laughter and news.

Chapter One

Mr. Bennet did, indeed, visit Mr. Bingley as soon as he came to the circus, but that does not matter in the least to either this story or anything at all, really, because no one cares about things like that anymore. In fact, if you must get technical, Lydia Bennet had actually visited him first. And almost got chewed up for her pains. By the lions, that is. Some time later she got chewed out by her elder sister, too. Lydia paid absolutely no attention, as she usually did, but her sister felt she had done her duty and so went on her Mary way.

The newcomer was said to be very handsome, though had a strange vocabulary (which everyone naturally attributed to his years in the Big Circus. They simply must talk differently there). Mr. Bingley was rumored to own not only the five lions but also several nice suits and an electric razor. In the eyes of the other circus folk, such a prize would most likely fall in love with one of the Bennet sisters, whose beauty was the talk of ... well, the circus, at least.

The Bennet sisters had always been one of the more popular acts of the circus -- five young, quite attractive girls, swinging around, doing death defying stunts on small trapezes some fifty feet in the air and all the while wearing sparkly little outfits that showed much more skin than they hid. How could it fail to appeal?

But now that the new animal trainer and his entourage had arrived they were in danger of being ousted from their former position of glory. As the rehearsal went forward, four days before the Opening Show, it became more and more obvious that these four people who locked themselves in small cages with such seemingly wild and untamed animals, or balanced precariously on galloping horses, or put their heads underneath the feet of two-ton animals, could quite possibly steal the show.

And not just because of their death-defying stunts. After all, Colonel Fitzwilliam and his Super Sphere of Death was much more dangerous. No, it was also for their very presence. These latecomers from the Big Circus showed up to the rehearsal in costume: rich, spangly, purple pixie glitter star-style that completely showed up everyone else in the tent. Including Lady Catherine, the owner of the Rosings Park Circus, who had come dressed in her usual multicolored spandex, carried on a litter by four buff men in very tiny loincloths and preceded by the ever-present bowing and scraping of Collins the Great (except, of course for our most beloved Lady Catherine, who by her very generous nature allows us to be a part of her most incredible show), the Human Cannonball.

Mr. Bingley’s entourage, it was found, consisted of four people: two horse-riders -- his sisters Miss Caroline and Ms. Louisa; an elephant trainer -- his brother-in-law and husband to Ms. Louisa, Mr. Herbert Hurst; and a new Master of Ceremonies -- the tall and elegant Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, who was rumored to not only own several suits and an electric razor, but also his own hairbrush.

“I’ve heard that theethe are jutht their rehearthal cothtumeth, my ooji-pooji Lithy-bear” oozed Collinth -- er, I mean, Collins the Great, sidling up beside Elizabeth Bennet, who stood in the wings watching as Mr. Darcy ran through his opening speech to an audience of Lady Catherine and four buff (but exceedingly stupid) members of the loincloth brigade.

She looked over at her cousin and sighed. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready, Collins? I think you’re up next.”

“Of courthe, my dearetht Lith-apple,” he replied, smiling up at her, revealing two large holes where teeth had been years ago, before he accidentally ran into the protruding fist of a large, angry carnie. “It ith tho charming to find a young lady like yourthelf tho conciouth of everything around her. You will do tho well ath my wife.”

A shudder ran through her whole body, but she merely smiled tightly and said, “How many times do we have to go over this? We are cousins. That’s disgusting.”

“Thecond couthinth, onthe removed,” he clarified, smiling at her smugly.

“You’re still disgusting,” Elizabeth muttered, glancing at him askance. But luckily for both Elizabeth’s sanity and that of myself, your narrator, no other conversation was needed, as Mr. Darcy, dressed in a very fancy red sequined jacket, striped waistcoat, black breeches and a black top hat, had just come to Collins’s cue:

“And now folks, you’re going to see a sight so amazing, it will shock you to your very toes: a man so brave and fearless as to be shot out of a cannon and sent through five flaming loops, here he comes, Collllllllliiiiiiins the Great! (except, of course for our most beloved Lady Catherine, who by her very generous -- hey now, what is this? Do I have to read this?” Mr. Darcy was shaking the papers in disgust. “This isn’t a stage name, it’s a novel!”

Lady Catherine sniffed loudly. “Well, I think it’s very becoming.” She bent a steely gaze on the man in the center ring, who looked ready to argue. “You will do as I say, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

He pursed his lips but after a moment he merely bowed and said, “Yes, Aunt Catherine,” and then continued to read the introduction.

Collins walked out when Darcy was finished, waving to the non-existent crowd, and promptly fell flat on his face. But not one to be cowed, he got right back on his feet and continued on to the large cannon that had been wheeled out by four clowns: Frumpy, Clumpy, Spanky, and Bubbles. After inserting himself into the canon’s long barrel with Much Ceremony (and then pushing the extra out the open end, because there wasn’t enough room for all of it), Spanky came bouncing over with a lit torch. And after hilariously almost lighting Bubbles on fire, he set the flambeau to the wick and....

Well, ok, nothing happened the first time. But after doing some adjustments, the second time Spanky set the wick afire and ... oh, wait. Did someone forget to put the net in place?

Collins the Great was given his own room at Meryton Hospital a few days later, but he still had to wear the green backless gown (a fact that had all of the nurses terror-stricken and nearly blind). At least, though, he was able to be visited by clowns. It made the day so much brighter. Especially after that regrettable incident earlier in the O.R.

But no one cares about Collins, really, so we’ll proceed with the story: after the ambulances had left bearing away Collins the Great, the Unconscious Cannonball, that evening, the rest of the rehearsal went off without a Hitch. But Lady Cat promised she would get one before the Opening Show, so there wouldn’t be any lack.

When the practice was over, there was a small party held at Rosings Park, Lady Cat’s somewhat ridiculously large mansion on the edge of town, where she and her hordes of buff men lived.

It was while many of the guests were standing around the pool, where the fishboy was enjoying the water while several of the stilt-walkers cavorted in the deep end, that the truly unfortunate thing of the evening (unfortunate only in the fact that it caused so many misunderstandings, and not for the story, of course) occurred.

Elizabeth had finished chatting with Charlotte, the slack rope walker and daughter of Sir William the Magnificent, had just managed to avoid her mother -- who was in the hallway holding forth on her favorite topic, finding husbands for her five daughters -- by using a palm frond as a disguise, and was now standing at the punch bowl in the dining room, pretending not to notice her sister Lydia and the fire eater in one of the doorways, cleaning out each other’s molars, when Darcy came through the other door, followed closely by Bingley, the new lion tamer. They stopped just inside the frame, facing each other.

“Oh, buffins, Darce. It’s not that bad,” said Bingley in his annoyingly up-beat manner. “It’s just a party.”

“It might as well be an execution,” muttered his companion, glancing out into the hallway with a grimace. A shriek and a splash heard in the distance signaled another victim of the not-so-deep blue, and Elizabeth saw the shudder that ran down the length of Darcy’s six-foot, something-odd frame.

“Oh, come, don’t be so fobglobbery. My sisters are having a good time.”

Right. Elizabeth had seen them “having fun” by the pool earlier, glaring down their long noses at anyone who came within ten feet of them. They had both dressed (or undressed, really) for the occasion in matching itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, polka-dot bikinis (one of them yellow, the other one orange), but had shown absolutely no intention of getting said bikinis wet. Until one of the clowns had come running through with banana cream pies, that is.

“You just need to find someone to talk to. Introduce yourself, jabber about books or oojahmajoos.”

Darcy snorted, a sound Elizabeth had never expected would come from so self-important a source. “I highly doubt anyone can read here, much less read a book. This is the back of beyond.”

“And you’re the back of something else,” Elizabeth muttered, helping herself to a small piece of cake from the sideboard.

The two in the doorway did not hear her, though, as she had spoken softly enough and also at the same time her youngest sister made some loud, giggling and completely incomprehensible comment to her pseudo-doctor. So Darcy continued blithely on with what he was saying: “The only people it wouldn’t be an absolute trial talking to are your sisters, but Louisa is comforting Caroline in one of the guest rooms over the ruin of her new swimsuit. The rest are a bunch of clowns.”

“Only some of them, actually. But really, Darcy,” cried Bingley with a laugh, “I wouldn’t be as paloobish as you for a frim-fram! Why, I don’t ever remember meeting with so many cute girls in my life before. And some of them are very brimminal, indeed,” he added, waggling his brows and elbowing the other man.

His friend gave him an odd look, but then shook his head. “You have been talking with the only ... um, brimminal girl in this whole circus.”

“Jane is an angel, isn’t she?” Bingley said with something resembling reverence in his voice as he glanced out the doorway, ostensibly at Jane (who Elizabeth could only imagine was her elder sister, as there were no other Janes attached to the circus in any fashion). “But come,” he said with a smile, taking note of Elizabeth standing there, trapped in the room because both doorways were occupied. She pretended to be fascinated with the cake. Mmm, chocolate. “There’s one of her sisters over there. Why don’t I go introduce you, and you can have a nice jibber-jabber. She’s very brimminal, too, and probably very jabberable.”

“What?” Darcy glanced over his shoulder at Elizabeth, who was at that very moment shoveling another forkful of the cake into her mouth. A disgusted look crossed over his face before he turned back to his friend. “She’s nice-looking, I suppose, but probably has more hair than wit. Go back to your angel and enjoy her ... jabber. You’re wasting your time with me.”

Elizabeth almost choked on the piece of cake. When the fit of coughing finally had passed her by, she looked over to the doorway, ready to confront the man. But, of course, he had already left. So she was forced to find her friends and laugh with them over the pomposity of the newest addition to the circus. And that -- in a very round-about way and completely ignoring the cut direct he administered when the Bearded Lady’s quite politely asked earlier about the kind of hairbrush he was reputed to own -- was how Mr. Darcy suddenly became the second least popular bachelor in the circus (still ahead of Collins the Great (besides the tremendously fabulous Lady Catherine, who is so far above us mere mortals that we must worship her in humble and awe-filled adulation), but behind the half-horse-half-man and the guy who cleaned up after the half-horse-half-man). And it was going to be quite some time before he recovered from that reputation.

Chapter 2

Posted on Saturday, 5 March 2005

The morning after the first rehearsal, the Bennet family was sitting around the small table at breakfast, when their trailerkeeper entered with a note for Jane.

Our moderately dearest Jane, (it read)

The men are dining elsewhere today, and we’re bored out of our minds.
Will you come and amuse us with stories about how vulgar your family and relations are?

Not very sincerely,
Caroline and Louisa (it stopped reading)

Mrs. Bennet tittered happily. “What gracious manners!” she trilled. “You absolutely must accept the invitation.”

“I’m not sure--“ began Jane.

“No.” barked Mrs. Bennet in a voice that startled the rest of her family. “You will go and amuse them, and you will like it, young lady. Now hurry before you miss the rainstorm that’s supposed to hit in a few minutes.”

Jane went and, quite naturally, got sick from being out in the storm on her way to the other trailer, because everyone knows that getting wet will give you a dreaded disease. She was forced to spend the night at the Bingleys’ trailer (known, for some reason, as Netherfield). When Elizabeth heard this, she insisted on going to see her.

Her mother, of course, was appalled at this course of action. “Walk to the Netherfield! In all this mud? Why, you won’t be fit to be seen.”

“I shall be fit to see Jane, which is all I care about,” Elizabeth replied. “So snap.”

“I know,” said Kitty, who has not spoken in this story yet, “Lydia and I will set you as far as the front step.” So Elizabeth accepted their company, and they set out.

The mud was, indeed, a problem, and Kitty was (somewhat fortunately, so now I have one less character to worry about) swallowed up by a mudhole shortly after they stepped out of the trailer. Elizabeth continued on, though, and arrived in three steps at the neighboring trailer several seconds later. She was admitted and shown into Jane’s company.

As soon as she was on the other end of the trailer, Caroline began abusing her to the others. “Did you see her hair, Louisa? So blowsy. And her petticoat! I hope you saw her petticoat, brother, six inches deep in mud, I swear it.”

“What’s a petticoat?” Bingley asked.

“I can’t imagine you’d want your sister to walk so far, alone,” Caroline said to Mr. Darcy.

“It was three steps,” he said, “and I don’t have a sister in this version of the story.”

“Oh,” said Caroline. And since Darcy hasn’t mentioned anything about Elizabeth’s fine eyes yet, the conversation ended at that.

Elizabeth and Jane went home later that day, as there really wasn’t any point to them staying, but not before Bingley fell a bit more madly in love with Jane, and Jane convinced everyone a little more that she was most definitely not in love with Bingley, even though she was.

The carnies arrived at the circus site the next morning and began setting up their rides and booths immediately. By that evening, everything was fairly well settled, and rest of the circus folk were allowed to wander around and check out the different stands and take a few turns on the rides.

Lydia, of course, had been watching and flirting all day with the carnies, distracting many from their jobs and causing more than a few rides to be missing several bolts, but now that all the other circus folk were allowed to wander around, she was determined to show her sisters all the best spots.

So the four sisters and Collins the Great (excepting, of course, the marvelous Lady Catherine, who in her extreme condescension and compassion grants us parts in her great circus), who had been released from the hospital and now tagged along much to the dismay of everyone in the group except the inexplicably smitten Mary, walked through the circus area, gazing up at the tall rides and stopping at several of the booths to try out the games.

Another group was traveling around the grounds, as well, that included the Bingleys, the Hursts, and Darcy. The latter was following a bit behind the others and kept glancing over toward where he could see the earlier-mentioned group. Well, more specifically, Elizabeth.

You see, what had happened was the usual Oh-I-don’t-like-her-but-wait-I-find-her-so-attractive thing, and Darcy had fallen quite hard for the dark-haired, dark-eyed, and dark-looks young lady. Granted, he was still resisting, so he was stalking her instead of talking to her, but it was pretty much a no-win situation in the long run.

As he glanced again in her direction, catching a glimpse of her between the booths, Caroline Bingley fell back and slipped her arm through his, startling him so much that he tripped over a tent spike.

“I believe I can guess the subject of your reverie,” she said in a voice she believed was quite seductive.

Darcy shuddered as he picked himself up from the ground. “I’m sure you can’t.”

She squealed, pulling him closer again by tightening her grasp around his arm. “OK, ok. Is it bigger than a bread box?”

“What? Yes,” Darcy said.

“I know! I know! It’s a lamp!”

Silence. “Uh, no,” he replied. “I’m meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

She pouted. “That was hard. Ok, so what lady has the credit of inspiring such reflections?” she asked, bating her eyelashes at him at such a rate as to nearly give him a cold from the draft.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“What? That clown?”

“Actually, she’s only a daughter of clowns.”

Miss Bingley merely snorted at that statement and began entertaining herself by reviling Elizabeth and her relations. Darcy entertained himself by trying to again spy on Elizabeth Bennet.

That young lady was still walking along with her sisters and Collins the Great (except, of course for the beautiful and generous Lady Catherine, who has the most wonderful spirit of generosity only endowed in saints or very rich people). It was as they reached the Tilt-and-Hurl that Lydia suddenly let out a very undignified squeal and pointed, saying, “Oooooh, who is that at Denny’s booth? I don’t think I’ve seen that handsome man before!”

The others turned to look across the five feet that separated them from Denny’s booth. There was, indeed, a rather attractive gentleman standing beside the booth, leaning against a pole, talking to Denny. He looked over as he heard Lydia’s pronouncement and gave her a wink. She took it and put it in her pocket, then proceeded to plaster herself against him and talk about the weather.

A few minutes later, Bingley and Darcy (without Caroline and the Hursts, as they had unwisely stopped at a Port-o-Potty and had to be taken to the emergency room from fume inhalation) happened to walk past. Bingley, naturally, stopped with an exclamation on how extremely gossamer it was that they were standing there just as he walked past, then proceeded to gaze dumbfoundedly at Jane.

Darcy, who was once again lost in his admiration of Elizabeth, tripped over the tent spike and had to stop as well. But no sooner had he picked himself off the ground then he met the eyes of George Wickham. Since he had already met the rest of Wickham before, his face grew red, even as Wickham’s face paled, and he turned on his heel, turned it off again, and stalked Away.

Elizabeth, who felt quite honestly that Away wasn’t much to look at and couldn’t understand why anyone would stalk her, leaned over and whispered to Wickham, “That was very strange.”

Given such overwhelming inducement, Wickham proceeded to pour out his story of misuse by Darcy to her: Back in the old country, apparently, Wickham’s father had been Darcy’s father’s sister-in-law’s nephew’s cousin’s brother’s boot boy’s roommate in college, and the two had played together as children. One day, for no apparent reason, Darcy had given Wickham a wedgie.

“What an awful thing!” gushed Elizabeth, falling hard for the Abused Stranger.

“Yes, it was,” he replied.

Later on, Jane told Elizabeth that she was an idiot for believing him, though in nicer terms. Elizabeth replied that Jane was an idiot for not believing him.

She then related how Wickham had told her that if Darcy didn’t want to see him, then Darcy would have to be the one to leave, because Wickham was staying right where he was.

Which meant, of course, that he did not attend the after-the-Opening-Show party held at Netherfield the following evening. Everyone else did, though, including Collins the Great (but not as great as Lady Catherine, who is so talented and wise and willing to put up with us mere mortals for the sake of her circus), who cornered Elizabeth at one point and stepped on her feet and slobbered all over her hand in an effort to appear suave and debonair.

Elizabeth was then cornered by Darcy, who was suave and debonair. He asked her to dance, and she agreed. She then spent the next ten minutes asking him questions about Wickham, which made Darcy fall more in love with her, though he still resisted because Collins the Great hadn’t proposed to her yet and Colonel Fitzwilliam hadn’t revealed that Darcy had separated Jane from Bingley (which he also hadn’t gotten around to yet). But he made himself a note to ask her to marry him, later.

The following morning, one of the items was taken off Darcy’s To Do list, when Collins the Great (aside from Lady Catherine, who by no means can ever be called less than the most wonderful patroness ever to grace this planet’s surface) asked Elizabeth to become Mrs. the Great. She refused, which surprised no one except Collins and Mrs. Bennet.

Collins became so despondent that he asked Charlotte, the slack-rope walker and daughter of Sir William the Magnificent, to marry him, though she would be marrying down from Magnificent to merely Great (except for Lady Catherine, who we can never forget is so supremely amazing and affable as to allow us to have parts in her most astounding show). She, for some odd reason which I can’t fully explain, said yes.

Mary became so despondent that she cast herself off the nearest bridge, which allowed me to get rid of another character that really had no purpose in this story.

Mrs. Bennet became so despondent that she began to blow bubbles and didn’t stop until she had run out of bubble soap.

Jane became despondent, but only because she got a note from Miss Bingley saying that they had moved their trailer to the other side of the circus, and weren’t planning on coming back for a long time, if ever.

Elizabeth merely shrugged and finished her coffee.