Jump to new as of August 27, 1999
Jump to new as of August 29, 1999
Chapter One ~ Not in Kent Anymore
After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every variety of thought; reconsidering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself as well as she could to a change so sudden and so important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence, made Elizabeth at length wish to return home, but upon looking up from the absorbing letter, she was astonished to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings.
The grove of fine elms that separated the lane from the park of Rosings had been replaced by a line of gargantuan flowers, while Rosings itself was nowhere in sight. In addition, the lane now appeared to be paved with yellow bricks, an innovation that Lady Catherine's grateful and admiring clergyman, Elizabeth's cousin Mr. Collins, would surely have remarked upon in one of his effusive tributes.
"The great and good Lady Catherine De Bourgh thinks nothing of expense when it serves the greater good of the community she serves as benefactress. And yellow, with its resemblance to gold, suggests in this case the gold bricks of her wealth wedded to the path of honest hard work followed by her humble acolytes such as I."
Lizzy shook herself. She really must get home. She had wandered about till she was beyond her own knowledge. Surely the parsonage lay somewhere along this lane. The path before her led straight until it disappeared into rolling hills. So she should turn and follow the curving path behind her.
But as she proceeded back the way she came, she felt as if she were beyond the pale as well as the palings. Not only did this land look far from Rosings and Hunsford Parsonage, but she was beginning to doubt she was even in Kent. Had Mr. Darcy's letter so distressed and disturbed her that her mind was not quite right? Or had she just wandered longer and further than she'd assumed?
She resolved to ask directions at the next house she came to, but when, upon rounding a turn, she came upon a cluster of small, white, domed buildings, she hesitated. They looked like children's playhouses, such as Lydia and Kitty had not five years ago. She would probably not get much information out of children, certainly not accurate directions to a neighboring county if they were as ignorant of geography as her sisters had been. But perhaps they could direct her to the nearest adult. She heard voices coming from the nearest playhouse and was about to call to the children, when one of the inhabitants emerged.
Chapter Two ~ Shortcomings
Elizabeth could not help gasping at the sight of a gray-bearded boy in brightly colored, oversized clothes. Then as he was joined by another small figure with long moustaches, she realized that they were dwarves. As other figures, some of them female, emerged from the dwellings, she realized she'd stumbled upon a colony of dwarves, such as used to stop at Meryton before the regiment was stationed there.
She approached the eldest-looking one with respect. Although amused by their size and clothing, she would never mock anyone for his appearance, saving her wit for internal weaknesses. And indeed, as the shortest of the Bennet sisters, now that Lydia was precociously tall, she felt empathy for those whose physical stature led others to underestimate them.
She suddenly remembered Bingley's facetious remark that "comparative height and size...will have more weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference." Had her saucy defiance of Mr. Darcy originated in a short girl's wish to cut a tall man down to size?
She would've mused further on this had not the little graybeard asked, in a high, piercing voice, "Did you kill her?"
She was greatly taken aback at this of course. Were they a colony of insane dwarves, set in this isolated region to keep them out of harm's way? Or had she simply misunderstood the question? Perhaps the "her" referred to some beast. "I beg your pardon?"
"Did you kill the witch?"
While she was not fond of Lady Catherine, murder had never been a practical consideration. "No, indeed."
"Then that's not your house, Miss?" asked a young serving-dwarf.
Elizabeth turned and saw a house very different than the domed "playhouses." It was square and gray, a small farmhouse, although twice the height of the other buildings.
"No, Longbourn is more Georgian. Unless you mean Hunsford, which is more Tudor. And by the way-"
But before she could ask directions to Kent, a pink sphere of light came floating over the horizon.
Chapter Three ~ Bewitched
Elizabeth had been unimpressed by the mere stateliness of money and rank possessed by Lady Catherine De Bourgh, preferring to reserve her awe for those with extraordinary talents or miraculous virtue. But as the glowing sphere landed and transformed into a smiling lady in a pink gown, Lizzy felt all the trepidation that Sir William Lucas felt each time he met a member of the peerage.
She was about to curtsy when the lady asked, "Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"
Elizabeth sighed impatiently. "I'm afraid I don't understand all this talk of witches and evil and murder. It seems rather Gothic."
The lady laughed musically. "Well, I am a witch."
Ordinarily Elizabeth would've laughed herself at such folly, but the floating ball of light was difficult to explain, if not attributable to witchcraft. Perhaps these people used the word "witch" in some odd, local sense.
"Excuse me," she asked, "could you tell me what county this is?"
A fat, pompous-looking little man, wearing a sash that said "Mayor," now emerged from the largest of the domed houses. "As Mayor of the Munchkin City, in the County of the Land of Oz-"
"I'm sorry, did you say Oz?" Was there an Ozshire? She suddenly felt as ignorant of geography as Kitty or Lydia.
"Yes, this is Oz, My Dear," said the lady in her lilting voice, "and you are the national heroine of the Munchkins."
"National heroine? And who are the Munchkins?"
The dwarves giggled.
"The little people of this land. And they summoned me because a good witch killed a wicked witch."
"Now we're back to witches again. And you said you're a witch as well. A good one I hope."
"Oh, yes, of course. I'm Glinda the Good Witch."
Now Elizabeth curtsied. "I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Elizabeth Bennet, no witch at all." She blushed as she remembered Darcy, only the night before, in the midst of his unsought proposal, referring to her "bewitching" manner. As if she had cast a spell and deliberately made him fall in love with her! In his eyes she was a witch, probably a bad one. And yet, the adieu of his letter was charity itself, as he blessed her. She wondered if he now thought of her as a good witch.
She was roused from her thoughts by Miss Glinda's question, "Elizabeth, do you want the shoes?"
Chapter Four ~ Father was Right
Miss Glinda was pointing, with a long stick with a silver star affixed to the top, at the gray farmhouse. Elizabeth hadn't examined it too closely before, distracted as she was by dwarves and witches. But she now noticed that sticking out from under the plain building was a pair of limbs covered in striped stocking and red slippers.
"Are you sure you didn't kill her, Miss?" asked the serving-dwarf.
Elizabeth let out a shriek of horror. She felt as if she'd stumbled into a phantasmagoric nightmare, more chilling and more bizarre than any dreamt up by Anne Radcliffe and her ilk.
"Father was right to tease me for reading novels!" she exclaimed before bursting into tears.
Miss Glinda patted her shoulder. "Come, come, My Dear. She's dead, whether or not you killed her, and I say good riddance to bad rubbish."
"How can you speak so of another human being?"
"Well, she wasn't exactly human. Not with that green skin.
But she was unable to further comfort Elizabeth at that moment for she was interrupted by a burst of red smoke that cleared to reveal a lady with green skin.
Chapter Five ~ All Sorts of Misdeeds
"I thought you said she was dead," Elizabeth whispered to Miss Glinda, who like it or not, was the closest to normal of any of the denizens of this peculiar land.
"No, this is her sister. She's worse than the other one."
So Elizabeth had felt when Jane introduced her to Miss Bingley after Mrs. Hurst. At the memory of her earlier adversaries, Elizabeth dried her eyes and gathered her courage.
"Who killed my sister? Was it you?" asked the green lady with an impertinence that was perhaps pardonable in her grief.
"If you mean me," said Elizabeth in her most confident tone, "I just arrived. From Kent. In fact, if you could direct me back I'd be most-"
The green lady let out a horrible shriek far surpassing the one Elizabeth had released upon herself seeing the grisly sight of the dismembered limbs.
"I knew it! She's dead! She's dead! My poor sister is dead!"
Bad witch or no, Elizabeth was moved to pity by her grief. She thought of what she would feel if she lost dear Jane or even one of her younger sisters. She was about to express sympathy when the lady ran towards the house.
"The slippers! I must have the slippers!" But the slippers vanished from her grasp. "Where are they? Where are the slippers?"
All pity evaporated at this display. "Good God, woman!" exclaimed Elizabeth, moved to strong language by exasperation. "Your sister is dead and all you can think of are her personal effects? You should be ashamed!"
The woman, for indeed her words and actions proved her no lady, turned to glare at Elizabeth. But her eyes narrowed and she spat out, "Ashamed? Fine talk from a thief!"
Elizabeth supposed that that was a step up from being called a murderer, but she knew that she was guilty of no crime. She was beginning to wonder if this charade weren't some elaborate form of blackmail, with these strange people luring her in with their antics and then accusing her of all sorts of misdeeds till she gave them money just to silence them. Well, they would be sadly mistaken when they realized how little was in her purse.
"Listen, I haven't got your shoes and even if I had-"
She was interrupted by Glinda's bubbly laugh.
She was afraid to look but she had to. There on her feet were probably the last shoes she'd ever think of taking were she inclined to larceny: red, sparkling slippers adorned with false rubies, the sort of shoes that Lydia would buy as a "bargain."
"There were many pairs much more hideous in the shop, and these will be perfect for dancing as soon as I replace the rubies with feathers."
Lizzy could only be grateful that at least she wasn't also wearing the stockings.
Chapter Six ~ Departures
"Miss Glinda," Elizabeth said as patiently as she could, "while it may amuse you to play pranks-"
"My Dear, it's not a prank. It's a gift. There the shoes are and there they'll stay."
"Give me the ruby slippers!" the green woman screeched. "I'm the only one who knows how to use them."
Elizabeth wondered what use the shoes had other than walking, and clashing with every article of clothing she owned.
"Be off with you!" Miss Glinda caroled. "Before somebody drops a house on you!"
The green woman looked fearfully up at the sky as if such catastrophes were common in Ozshire. Then she glared at Elizabeth again. "Very well. I'll bide my time. I'll get you, My Pretty, and your little dog, too!"
"My little dog? Pug belongs to my mother. Unless you mean father's hunting dogs, but I haven't raised any of the puppies in ages."
The witch wasn't listening. She cackled loudly and disappeared as she came.
Elizabeth sighed. "Well, now that that's over with, perhaps someone can tell me how to get to Kent."
The dwarves exchanged uncertain glances, till the Mayor turned and said, "I'm sorry, we Kent help you." He slapped his knee and the other dwarves giggled. Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
"Perhaps the Wizard of Oz could help," said the unflappable Miss Glinda.
"The Wizard of Oz?" She wondered if he was a wizard of science or business, fashion or architecture. Clearly he was well respected in Ozshire, as all the dwarves bowed their heads at his name. "And how do I find this wizard?"
"You must follow the Yellow Brick Road."
"To where?"
"The Emerald City."
"The Emerald City?" She was indeed more ignorant of geography than she'd thought. "And where is the Emerald City?"
"Just follow the Yellow Brick Road."
This circular discussion was wearying so she was not altogether disappointed when Miss Glinda disappeared as she came. Still, she could not help remarking, "My, people certainly come and go quickly around here."
The dwarves giggled again.
"Follow the Yellow Brick Road," she mused to herself. Well, she may as well go back the way she herself arrived, since the road ended here in a spiral.
She was going to bid farewell to the dwarves but they began singing the phrase "Follow the Yellow Brick Road" over and over till she thought she'd go mad. So she hurried out of the tiny village as quickly as she could, hoping the slippers had good thick soles since she hadn't her pattens.
Chapter Seven ~ Mr. Crow Posted on Thursday, 26 August 1999
Elizabeth was used to walking and even running, so a journey of indeterminate length did not trouble her, especially as it was a fine day. On the one hand, she knew that her friend Charlotte was probably beginning to worry about her long absence. But on the other, it was good to escape from her recent concerns. Not that her thoughts did not still stray to Darcy's unexpected proposal and his surprising revelations afterwards. (She carried the letter in her reticule.) But she was grateful for some distance from that vexing man. She knew not what she'd say to him upon her return to Kent. She hoped he wouldn't attribute her disappearance to his own account. He was a proud man, although not as vain as she'd thought till just that morning.
She was about to take out his letter and read it yet again, when she noticed that the road forked ahead, each tine (as it were) paved with yellow bricks.
"Oh dear, I wish Miss Glinda's directions had been more precise. I don't know which path to follow now."
She spoke aloud since she assumed she was alone, so she was startled to hear a voice say, "Some people go that way."
She looked around but all she saw were cornfields, with a scarecrow presiding over one field.
"And some people go that way."
She looked again. Odd, the scarecrow was pointing in the other direction before.
"Of course, some people go both ways."
"But there are three paths."
"What?" said the voice.
"Well," she said, feeling a little silly talking to an unseen person, "actually it's more like crossroads, with one path cutting through the path I was on. So I could go back the way I came, straight on ahead, or to the left or the right. But since I don't count going backwards, that leaves me three options."
"Oh, I never thought of it that way." The scarecrow scratched its head.
"Oh!" She sighed in relief. He must be some farmer who liked to play scarecrow, strange behaviour but not unheard of. "I thought I was talking to an invisible man."
"I haven't seen any invisible men around here."
She shook her head. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll take the middle path."
"Where are you going?"
She stopped to answer, "To the Emerald City to ask the Wizard how to get back to Kent."
"Oh, will you take me with you? Perhaps the Wizard could give me a brain."
The slow-witted young man in the ragged, straw-filled costume seemed harmless enough but it would hardly be proper for her to travel unchaperoned with a stranger, particularly on foot. "If you want to see the Wizard, you'll have to go on your own."
"Please. I won't be any trouble because I don't eat. And I won't try to manage things because I can't think."
She suppressed the unfilial response that that had never stopped her mother, and instead replied to the first part of his plea. "Well, if I had any food I'd share it."
"Oh, you can have some of my corn."
The unripened maize didn't look too appetizing, so she said, "Thank you, but I really must be going."
"Why won't you take me with you?"
He seemed ignorant of decorum so she'd have to try fear. "Well, there's a wicked witch after me and I couldn't put you in such peril."
"I'm not scared of witches, only matches."
Well, at least he had no romantic designs on her. She sighed. Perhaps it wasn't much further to the Emerald City and it would be no more indecorous to travel a short distance with him than it had been for Colonel Fitzwilliam to join her on her walks along the parsonage lane.
"Very well, you may accompany me at least till the next town."
"Thank you so much, Miss--"
"Miss Bennet."
"I'm the Scarecrow."
She smiled and curtsied. "Pleased to meet you. Well, Mr. Crow, shall we be off?"
"Well, first I must be off this pole."
She sighed. Perhaps it was as well he didn't travel alone. He hardly seemed able to look after himself.
Chapter Eight ~ Communication Posted on Thursday, 26 August 1999
Elizabeth had to wonder how in a few short hours she'd gone from Charlotte's well-cooked breakfast to a luncheon of apples al fresco, but she was not altogether dissatisfied with the change. Mr. Crow was just as silly as Charlotte's husband, but he had neither Mr. Collins' pomposity nor his insensitivity. In his bucolic way, Mr. Crow was a true gentleman, as his fight with the talking trees had proven.
Not that she had ever before thought of a battle with talking trees as the measure of a gentleman, nor indeed had ever thought of talking trees at all, but when a gnarled apple tree spoke to her with an impertinence that rivaled that of the green woman earlier, Mr. Crow responded in kind, bravely provoking the trees till they threw fruit. She and Mr. Crow were now scrambling for the scattered apples.
But instead of the remaining apple, Elizabeth found a rusted tin statue.
"Mr. Crow, do come look at this. What an odd place for a statue, in the middle of the forest. I wonder whom it represents."
The scarecrow was at her side in an instant. He was just about to speak when the statue spoke first. Or rather, it squeaked.
"What did it say, Miss Bennet?"
Elizabeth would ordinarily have argued that statues can't speak, but if scarecrows and trees could, she supposed statues could as well. And in fact she had managed to distinguish two words. "It said, 'Oil can.'"
"Oil can what?"
She ignored the pun and pointed at the can of oil sitting on a stump. The scarecrow handed it to her and she used it on the statue's mouth, reasoning that until the statue could speak more clearly, communication would be difficult. And she had had enough of miscommunication in the past 24 hours.
The statue sighed. "Oh, thank you. Please oil my arms."
She and the scarecrow took turns oiling the tin figure. As the statue moved his upper limbs, she realized he was not strictly speaking a statue. She again wondered about propriety. Was it right to touch a man so intimately, even if he was made of tin? She soothed her conscience by having Mr. Crow oil the lower limbs.
The tin man thanked his rescuers and introduced himself as "The Tin Man." Had no one in Ozshire a proper surname? She could hardly call him "Mr. Man." She decided to follow Mr. Crow's lead in calling him "Tinman."
But she could not imitate either man's indelicacy in revealing his failings, as the Scarecrow cheerfully admitted his lack of intelligence, and the tin man melodramatically longed for a heart.
"When a man's an empty kettle he should be on his mettle, and yet I'm torn apart, just because I'm presumin' that I could be kind of human if I only had a heart!"
She thought of Wickham, both in his improper sharing of his life story on their first acquaintance, and in his heartlessness. Well, "Tinman" at least did not, in their short acquaintance, seem the type to try to elope with poor Georgiana Darcy.
Her thoughts again returned to Miss Darcy's brother. He had seemed heartless in separating dear Jane from Bingley. But his letter had implied that Jane had hidden her heart too well. Perhaps a balance was needed, between indiscretion and guardedness.
"So what do you say, Miss Bennet? Can Tinman come with us to see the Wizard?"
She was formulating a balanced reply when there was a burst of red smoke.
"Oh, not her again," she groaned.
Chapter Nine ~ Protection Posted on Thursday, 26 August 1999
"So, helping the little lady along?" screeched the green woman.
"Who's that?" whispered the tin man, rattling in fear.
"I see, Tinman, that Mr. Crow neglected to mention that I'm being followed by a shoe-obsessed green witch who thinks I murdered her sister."
"Scarecrow, wanna play ball?"
With a pitch that Lydia would've envied in her childhood games of baseball (before she grew too old for such "nonsense" and began to curl her hair and engage in more mature nonsense), the witch hurled a ball of fire at the poor scarecrow. Luckily for the straw gentleman, as soon as the witch disappeared in another puff of rosy smoke, the tin gentleman put out the flames with his metal hat.
As the smell of burnt straw dissipated in the breeze, Elizabeth said, "You see? It's not safe to travel with me."
"Oh, I'm all right," said the scarecrow, doing a clumsy dance. "And we can't let you go alone when that witch is out there."
"Yes, you need us to protect you," the tin man added chivalrously.
"That's very kind," she said smiling. She felt they needed protection more than she did but she was growing fond of them. Initially she had resented the interruption of her solitary reflections, but now, as a student of character, she had to admit that she had rarely met such odd specimens. It would be amusing to share their company for the rest of her journey, and probably no more improper to travel with two strange men than with one.
She linked arms with them, and it felt not only proper but right. "Well, let us proceed to the Emerald City."
"The Emerald City!" exclaimed the tin man, rattling a little. "But we'll have to go deeper into the woods!"
"Is there any danger further on?" she asked.
"Well, just lions and tigers and bears."
"Oh my!" Large wild cats seemed overly tropical even for such an odd county as Ozshire. And she'd never encountered bears before either. So it was with curiosity as well as fear that she first heard the growls and abuse.
Chapter Ten ~ Abuse Posted on Thursday, 26 August 1999
Elizabeth had never slapped anyone in her life, though she often thought Lydia deserved it. But as soon as a talking lion threatened her new friends, her hand rose of its own volition and hit the cat smartly on the cheek.
"What did you go and do that for?" he whined, before bursting into tears.
"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Lion. I know I reacted inappropriately, but it provoked me to see a talking beast offer only threats and insults. Better to have no gift of speech than to abuse it as you do."
The lion was now too upset to talk.
"Good gracious, I didn't hit you that hard. There's no need to carry on so."
"I can't help it. I'm a Cowardly Lion."
Lizzy had to admire his honesty. He was the first man (well, male) she'd met who admitted to cowardice, even if he had initially tried to hide it behind bluster and bravado.
"Say, maybe the Wizard could give you courage!" said the scarecrow.
"Yes, why don't you come with us to the Emerald City?" chimed in the tin man.
Lizzy couldn't help smiling at the thought that she who loved solitary rambles should lately have acquired so much company so easily, from Mr. Darcy and the Colonel to this odd trio. But at least Charlotte would not suspect any of these latter gentlemen of courting her. That is, if she ever got back to Charlotte and Kent.
Chapter Eleven ~ Dreamy Posted on Thursday, 26 August 1999
Elizabeth, as they walked along, watched for the first appearance of the Emerald City with some perturbation. Her mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was caught by the Emerald Castle, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome, stone (well, gem) building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high grassy hills; --and in front, a field of poppies of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt, He must be a wonderful wizard to live in a city like that!
She and her companions spontaneously broke into a run. But she quickly found herself growing weary. It had been a long, eventful day and, although she wished to see the wizard and return to Kent as soon as possible, she wished even more for a nap. If she'd had the energy, she would have waited till they got to the castle, but she couldn't help curling up on the ground. As she drifted off, she imagined what Mr. Bingley's sisters would say if they saw her.
"Louisa, I could hardly keep my countenance. Why must she be slumbering out-of-doors? Her hair so untidy, so blowsy!"
"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, covered in grass stains; and the gown which had been let down to hide them, not doing its office."
"I am afraid, Mr. Darcy, that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes."
"Not at all," came his reply, "it only makes me long to see her open them again."
Lizzy blushed in her sleep.
Chapter Twelve ~ Snowed Posted on Friday, 27 August 1999
When Elizabeth awoke, she half expected to find herself back in Longbourn, surrounded by her family, or at least in Hunsford, with Mr. Collins assuring her that Lady Catherine De Bourgh was so kind as to send her best wishes for recovery. Instead she found herself lying in a bank of snow, next to a snoring lion.
"Hurrah! Miss Bennet is alive!"
"Miss Glinda saved you from the poison poppies!"
It took her a moment to identify the voices as Mr. Crow and Tinman, and another moment to make sense of what they said, but all things considered she was less disoriented than she would've been even a day before. She merely nodded when the lion awoke and said, "Unusual weather we're having, ain't it?"
She rose and brushed the snowflakes and poppy seeds off her gown. "Well, shall we continue?"
Her answer came not from any of her companions but from an invisible choir who sang something about being "out of the woods." She suspected that they may have literally left the forest behind them but figuratively were not yet out of the woods.
They descended the hill and walked to the door; and, while examining the nearer aspects of the castle, all her apprehensions of meeting its owner returned. She knew little about this wizard and there was no guarantee that he'd be able to help her or the others. True, all she wanted were directions to Kent, while the other three wanted intangible internal qualities, but Ozshire, with its exotic flora and fauna, to say nothing of its peculiar weather, seemed far from the Southeast of England.
And the guard with the green moustaches was not very reassuring.
Chapter Thirteen ~ Intolerable Behaviour Posted on Friday, 27 August 1999
Elizabeth was less amazed by the horse of a different color's ability to change hue (which could be a trick of the light) than by the guard's ability to change accents, facial hair, and even occupation at will. Now he was a red-bearded cabbie with a London accent. But if her journey through Ozshire had taught her anything thus far it was that a person's whims should be indulged, provided they didn't harm others.
She still found it impossible to excuse the witch's intolerable behaviour. There she'd been, attended by a coterie of maids, as if she were a lady of leisure, quite a difference from sharing one maid with Jane. As they curled her hair and repaired her gown, she could see, out of the corner of her eye, her three friends being served by a staff of valets. Everyone was laughing for no reason at all, when the merriment was interrupted by ominous music.
They all rushed out to see wreathes of smoke appear in the sky, forming letters that spelled out, "Surrender Elizabeth."
The impertinence of it! To not only threaten her but to use her Christian name!! Only the Lucases and Glinda were on terms of sufficient intimacy to address her so. Well, at least the witch had refrained from using the family nickname. But Lizzy was most highly displeased.
Chapter Fourteen ~ Influence Posted on Saturday, 28 August 1999
The Emerald Citizens panicked and demanded to see the Wizard, but the guard (now in another guise) managed to reassure them. Yet after the crowd dispersed, Elizabeth and her companions remained.
"We want to see the Wizard!" they demanded in unison.
"I told you, no one can see the Wizard today."
"Then why did you have us all prinked and pampered by your servants?" Lizzy queried.
"Well, because, I, because, well-"
The guard, in all his guises, was given to stuttering and spluttering. Elizabeth wondered how he managed to wield such power and influence if he was so inarticulate. But perhaps that was camouflage for his ambitions, much like Mr. Collins' empty flattery and false humility.
"Well, who, who, who are you, who wants to see the Wizard?"
"I told you at the door," she said calmly, forgetting for the moment that he'd assumed another character then. "I'm Miss Elizabeth Bennet and these-"
"The witch's Elizabeth?"
She indignantly drew herself up to her full five-foot-two. "I am not the witch's anything, except her reluctant enemy."
"Her enemy? Then I must take you to see the Wizard immediately!"
It is a truth universally acknowledged that it is not what you know but whom you know.
Chapter Fifteen ~ Prejudice and Pride Posted on Saturday, 28 August 1999
"I am Oz, the Great and Powerful!"
"I am Elizabeth Bennet, the Small and-" Well, she could hardly describe herself as "meek." She, who had prided herself on her discernment!-She, who had valued herself on her abilities! Who had often disdained the generous candour of her eldest sister, and gratified her vanity, in useless or blamable distrust. She had been justly humiliated by the recent discovery of her prejudice for Wickham and against Darcy, and yet she had gone on pre-judging those she met.
She'd sized up Glinda as insipid and tedious, and yet the good witch had saved her life and guided her to the Wizard who would soon send her home. She'd judged Mr. Crow to be slow-witted and yet he'd been clever enough to trick the talking trees. She'd assumed Tinman was overly emotional and yet he'd been rational enough to put out a sudden fire. As for the Lion, well, he was a coward, but at least he was honest about it and he hadn't let his fear stop him from seeing the Wizard.
None of them had, although they were all intimidated by the booming voice and the giant, disembodied head.
But there was stubbornness about Elizabeth that never could bear to be frightened at the will of others. Her courage always rose with every attempt to intimidate her. Besides, if she was wrong in her assumptions about everyone else, perhaps the Wizard wasn't as mighty as he seemed.
"I am Elizabeth Bennet," she began again, "the Small but Proud."
Chapter Sixteen ~ Desire and Green Satin Posted on Saturday, 28 August 1999
As she lay back upon the green satin sheets, Elizabeth wondered if perhaps Mr. Collins was not after all a figure worth emulating. His humility, however false, got him everything he desired: a condescending patroness, a sensible wife (thought marrying Mr. Collins was not the wisest thing Charlotte ever did), and the respect of people like Mary. Meanwhile, pride seemed to only cause trouble. Darcy had lost popularity with a whole village, and pride had cost him a bride.
But Lizzy's own pride had cost her more dearly. She was not yet certain whether Darcy was a loss she regretted, but certainly it was pride that had carried her so far from home. And now she was being sent even further (somewhere vaguely to the West), to kill a wicked witch who already considered her a murderer. If she knew of any other way back to Kent she'd take it, but she didn't and the wizard refused to help unless they brought him the witch's broomstick. Why a magician who ruled a lovely, jewel-encrusted city should desire a common household implement baffled Elizabeth, but the rich and powerful are notoriously eccentric. For instance, there was that Kent citizen that Charlotte had told her of, who had all any heart could desire but only loved his childhood sled.
Lizzy lay awake awhile, musing on the heart's desire of a certain eccentric, wealthy gentleman whose letter lay under the green satin pillowcase.
Chapter Seventeen ~ Education Posted on Saturday, 28 August 1999
"'I'd turn back if I were you,'" the Lion read aloud slowly and uncertainly.
He probably hadn't had many educational opportunities. If he'd been encouraged to read, as Elizabeth and her sisters had been, he probably would have progressed further. Lizzy suppressed a smile as she realized she was thinking like Lady Catherine, and a giggle as she imagined the Lion singing and playing the pianoforte.
The Lion started to bolt, but Mr. Crow and Tinman grasped his forepaws. By now Elizabeth had decided that the Lion indulged in these displays of cowardice as a plea for attention, not unlike the illnesses of her mother and Kitty. But as a talented beast who grew up poor and neglected in the deep forest, he merited more of her sympathy than her comfortable relations. She stroked his mane and was about to think of some bracing words to inspire him, when something dark flew across the moon. (Dusk had fallen early that day, around noon.)
"Oh, not her again," she said instead.
But Mr. Crow said, "Miss Bennet, that's not the witch. It's a flying chimpanzee!"
"No, it's a baboon!" cried Tinman. "And there's another one!"
"Actually," said the Lion, speaking from his superior zoological knowledge as the King of the Forest, "it's a flock of flying monkeys." Then he realized what he'd said and fainted dead away.
Chapter Eighteen ~ Later Impressions Posted on Saturday, 28 August 1999
"Give me the shoes!"
At their first acquaintance, with all the accusations the green woman hurled at her, Elizabeth would never have been persuaded to relinquish the slippers. But now, after walking several miles in another woman's shoes, Lizzy's sympathy was increased. The slippers did belong to the witch by right of inheritance, just as Mr. Bennet's estate would one day pass to Mr. Collins. Lizzy might not believe that the law always rewarded the most deserving, but it was the law.
She sighed. "Very well. Take them." She extended one dainty but travel-worn foot.
The witch cackled greedily and reached out for the slipper. But a flash of electricity shot out from the ruby shoe. The witch shrieked in pain.
"I'm terribly sorry," Elizabeth said, "honestly, it wasn't a trick."
"I know. You couldn't help it."
Elizabeth was surprised by this rare moment of humanity from the green woman. Perhaps she had misjudged her as well.
Then the witch said, "I forgot that they can't be removed while the wearer is alive. But I'll soon take care of that." She set out a large egg timer filled with red sand, cackled evilly, and left the room, locking the door behind her.
Then again, perhaps Lizzy had judged her all too fairly.
Chapter Nineteen ~ Nearly a Clean Getaway Posted on Saturday, 28 August 1999
For a few minutes, Elizabeth sat, giving way to every variety of thought, re-considering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself as well as she could to a change so sudden and so important. Was she to die in this strange land, far from everyone she knew, with even her recent companions left behind in the Haunted Forest?
Not if she could help it. The timer had almost run out, so she turned it upside-down. Now to get out of the room.
She looked around for something to pry the lock open with. But the only tools she could find were cleaning supplies: a bucket of water, a mop, and a broom.
A broom! The Wizard had never said it had to be the broomstick the witch flew with. If only she could escape, this broomstick might suffice. Meanwhile she'd do a little cleaning, since the room was very dusty and sometimes housework helped her think. (Not that her mother approved of the girls doing housework.)
Before long, the witch flung the door open and exclaimed, "Now it's time for the shoes!" Then she looked at the timer. "What have you done???"
In her panic, Elizabeth backed up to the window, holding the damp mop. "Just a little cleaning."
"You know what I mean. You broke the spell of the timer!"
Lizzy jumped out the window, hoping something would break her fall. But to her surprise, the mop caught a draught of the wind and stayed airborne. She scrambled onto it, facing the head. She wished she was a horsewoman like Jane and had more skill at riding.
She looked behind her and saw that the witch was in close pursuit on the broom.
Chapter Twenty ~ A Useful Lesson Posted on Saturday, 28 August 1999
Elizabeth, as the less experienced rider of the two, would have been unable to maintain her lead had not the witch's attention been diverted to the trio of rescuers besieging her castle. She flew back to the gates and began hurling fireballs.
Lizzy knew that she could return to Kent more easily by air than by land. If she hurried, she could cross the border before the witch renewed her chase.
But she couldn't abandon her loyal friends. She flew back just as a ball of fire landed on the scarecrow.
She hovered over Mr. Crow and wrung out the mop head. Unfortunately, she hadn't Lydia's aim and she missed, instead drenching the witch, who was making an ill-timed dive between them.
"What have you done???" shrieked the witch, crashing to the ground.
Lizzy asked herself the same thing but was relieved to see the tin man extinguish the blaze with his hat as he had done the previous day.
When she looked at the witch again, she was so startled to see the green woman literally melting that she let go of the mop head and tumbled off the shaft. Luckily the Lion caught her in his paws.
"Who would've thought that a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness?"
As the witch's too solid flesh melted, thawed, and resolved itself into dew, Lizzy wondered what Mary would say of someone so unrepentant, even till the end.
"Unhappy as the event must be for the witch, we may draw from it this useful lesson: that the loss of goodness in a female is irretrievable-that one act of black magic involves her in endless ruin-and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour towards footware."
Chapter Twenty-One ~ Not since Wickham Posted on Saturday, 28 August 1999
The broomstick and the mop had both lost their power upon the passing of the witch, so Elizabeth walked back to the Emerald City. But she didn't mind, as it was good to travel with her three loyal companions again. She was now guilty of the twin crimes that the witch had once accused her of, yet her friends still accepted her. And after all, the crimes had been committed on the behest of the most respected man in Ozshire. If she was to blame, so was the Wizard.
But the Wizard, far from being eager to take the broom, or the mop, only delayed granting them an audience. And his guard also remained evasive.
At last it struck Lizzy that the guard not only resembled the cabdriver, but his voice was suspiciously like the Wizard's, except without the vibrato.
Followed closely by her friends, she burst into the throne room and exclaimed, "You're a terrible man!" at the giant head.
A beardless version of the guard/cabbie emerged from behind a curtain. "Oh, no, I'm a good man. I'm just a terrible wizard."
Yet he proceeded to give the scarecrow, the tin man, and the lion tokens of the inner qualities they'd possessed all along.
"Read what it says. 'Courage.' Ain't it the truth?"
Lizzy was pleased by the Lion's pride. But her own had been humbled by the fact that she'd run such great risks and committed all sorts of misdeeds for a man who in the end wasn't worth it. Not since Wickham had she so overestimated someone's virtues.
Or had she? For the humbug wizard now offered to take her to Kent in a balloon.
Chapter Twenty-Two ~ Deus ex Zapata Posted on Saturday, 28 August 1999
Elizabeth's debate within herself over an unchaperoned balloon ride with a man who was not what he seemed, especially in light of her recent journeys on foot with less obviously human males, was rendered moot when the balloon left without her. She'd gone back to get Darcy's letter, remembering that she'd left it under her pillow. And while she was gone, the restraining ropes were loosened (she assumed accidentally), and the Wizard, apparently a humbug balloonist as well, was unable to return for her.
Her friends begged her to stay. Although fond of them and of this strange land, it was her duty to return to Kent and thence to Hertfordshire. Her family and friends back home must be terribly worried about her. And she must resolve the Darcy situation one way or another.
"I am much obliged for your kind invitation, but I've already tarried too long. I must find a way back."
"Here's someone who can help you," said Mr. Crow, pointing at a glowing pink sphere.
Lizzy was uncertain about Miss Glinda's aid. True, Glinda had made it snow at a critical moment, but her advice to go see the Wizard had proven worthless, though perhaps that was more the fault of the Wizard than of the good witch. Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask.
"Miss Glinda, as you can see, I've been unsuccessful in my attempts to return-"
Miss Glinda laughed musically. "You've always had the power to go home. Those are magic slippers!"
"Why didn't you tell her before?" the scarecrow asked, quite reasonably.
"She wouldn't have believed me."
Elizabeth was indignant. While she had had her doubts about Glinda, a reliance on the shoes rather than on a humbug wizard, especially one who offered his dubious assistance only after she underwent much travail, would have been a less arduous method. "In the future, Miss Glinda," she said coolly, "please allow me to decide for myself."
"Don't be upset, Miss Bennet," said the tin man weeping, "because I'm so glad you went to the Wizard. Thanks to you, I have a heart."
"And I have a brain," said the scarecrow, dancing clumsily.
"And I have courage," roared the lion.
She smiled upon her three friends. They were simple fellows but it did not necessarily follow that deep, intricate characters were more or less estimable than such as theirs. Yet as she dried the tin man's tears and oiled his face to keep it from rusting, she realized she was drawn to more complex characters. Puzzles like Darcy were a challenge she couldn't resist.
"I shall miss you all." And she embraced them each in turn.
"Well, Elizabeth, are you ready to go?"
She nodded. "So what is this magic power the shoes possess?"
"You can return by simply clicking your heels together three times and saying, 'There's no place like home.'"
"But I don't want to go home precisely." She couldn't face her mother and younger sisters just yet. She missed her father but needed time for reflection before she could tell him of her adventures, for she knew he would indulge in mocking pleasantry at her expense if she didn't present the tale in the proper manner.
It was tempting to join Jane and the Gardiners in London. Candid Jane would accept everything she said, except of course for the wickedness of the green witch.
"Dear Lizzy, perhaps she's merely misunderstood. Consider, it can't be easy to suffer from a crippling skin disease and then lose your only relation in the world."
"Where do you want to go, Elizabeth?"
"Kent, as I've said all along. It's not home, but, well, it's where I need to be right now. Back at Hunsford Parsonage."
"Then there's no place like Hunsford."
Lizzy nodded. She clicked her heels together three times and began to chant, "There's no place like Hunsford."
The world spun and Miss Lizzy felt dizzy.
The Last Chapter Posted on Saturday, 28 August 1999
When Elizabeth opened her eyes, she was lying upon a bed in the grey farmhouse. "Oh, when will this nightmare be over?" she cried. She drew a heavy quilt over her head.
She was plotting her next move when she heard the footsteps of a quiet man. He lowered himself into the chair by the bed, slowly, as if he had rheumatism.
"Are you asleep, Dearest?"
She murmured, afraid to speak. The man stroked her hair. It felt as if he wore military cuffs.
"Colonel?" Col. Fitzwilliam was the only military man she could face right then, even if he was calling her "Dearest."
"Oh, Eliza, I've found you at last!"
Eliza! Really! That was so unlike the colonel's usual gentlemanly manner. She was offended for a moment and then thought He's in love with me! He went looking for me and he's saved me! He's forgotten himself in the intensity of his relief. Otherwise he'd never use my Christian name. What shall I do if he proposes? Should I admit I'm flattered but I love his cousin?
"Why did you run away, Darling?"
Drawing the quilt off her face, she began to explain, "I didn't run away. I just wandered till-"
"Good God, you're not Eliza!"
She looked up into the grave eyes of a man who was at least five years Col. Fitzwilliam's senior. He was indeed also a colonel but there the resemblance ended.
"Well, I'm Elizabeth Bennet. But only Mrs. Collins calls me Eliza."
"Eliza Bennet! I begin to understand. The good people of this farm told me that they'd found an unconscious young girl whose kerchief was embroidered with the initials E.B. I've been searching for my ward, named Eliza Brandon, so I presumed-"
"Presumed! Indeed, Sir, you presume too much. Take your hand off her brow!"
The good colonel had forgotten in his shock that he'd been stroking the lady's hair. He quickly moved his hand away. "My humble apologies, Miss Bennet."
The commanding voice had come through the open window, and Elizabeth's head was turned in such a way that she could not see the face. She was afraid to look, so she simply said, "That's quite all right, Colonel."
"And this is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me!" ranted the voice. "I delay my departure from Kent in order to search for you. I quell the fears of Mrs. Collins, despite my own fears. I scour the countryside, almost giving up hope, till I come to this farmhouse and, just as I'm about to ask the residents if they've seen you, I'm drawn to your voice, floating on a breeze, an ill wind it seems. For here you are, not 24 hours after my proposal, lying in a bed of shame while some strange colonel strokes your hair. And you have not a word to say to me!"
"Oh, Darcy," she exclaimed peevishly, "don't be so prejudiced!"
"Well, you can't blame a man when the girl he loves-"
She turned her head and looked him in the eye. "And who loves him."
"She does? You do?" She'd never seen him look so humble.
"Yes, so tell me about Pemberley."
Uncharacteristically flustered, Darcy answered, "Are you sure? I mean, it's, well, it's a long way from Longbourn."
"There's no place like home," she said. "And for that I am grateful."
The End.