An Alternate Perspective Read online

  An Alternate Perspective

  By

  Wynne Mabry

  Copyright 2018 Wynne Mabry

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or any portion thereof, in all forms whatsoever without permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  PART ONE

  All Friends Except for One

  Only One Friend Among Them

  A Whirling Vortex

  A Bizarre Experience

  A Very Great Disruption

  So Strange and Yet So Real

  Out of Place

  Beyond Comprehension

  A Little Nudge in the Right Direction

  An Extraordinary Explanation

  PART TWO

  A Hope of Being Rescued

  In the Heat of the Moment

  The Danger Posed by an Intruder

  A Quarrel Resolved

  An Unfair Accusation

  A Looming Threat

  A Budding Friendship

  A Friend in a Time of Need

  A Welcome Offer of Assistance

  The Situation Worsens

  Hopes Dashed

  A Dire Situation

  PART THREE

  Try and Try Again

  Overtures of Friendship

  A Bit of Manipulation is Required

  Sisterly Confidences

  Hopelessness and Frustration

  An Obvious Hint

  Broken

  A Small Setback

  An Unpleasant Encounter

  A Bargain Must Be Made

  The Truth Will Out

  PART FOUR

  Something Like Home

  An Astonishing Lack of Concern

  Soldiering on in the Shoes of Another

  An Enlightening Morning

  Nearly There

  An Unusual Proposal

  Held Back by the Rain

  Fond Farewells

  Reunited at Last

  The Beginning of All That Could Be

  Every Minute of Happiness

  Hopes Fulfilled

  EPILOGUE

  New Pursuits

  Meant to Be Together

  PART ONE

  All Friends Except for One

  “Are you very fond of reading?” Mr. Hurst asked Elizabeth Bennet, who had just come into the drawing room and picked up a book, after spending most of the evening with her sister.

  “Miss Eliza Bennet is a great reader and takes no pleasure in anything else,” Miss Bingley said.

  “There is no need for such sarcasm, Caroline.” Mrs. Hurst’s rebuke to her sister was firm, but her tone was not unpleasant.

  Miss Bingley’s hostility did not ruffle Elizabeth. She replied only to Mr. Hurst. “I am fond of reading, but to be honest I would myself a great reader.”

  “Nor am I,” Mr. Bingley said. He looked at his best friend and his brother-in-law. “I have never been able to understand your immense liking for books.”

  Mr. Hurst laid down his winning hand of cards. “I have not quite given up on you,” he said to Mr. Bingley. “We might make a reader of you yet.”

  “I think you are too hopeful,” Mrs. Hurst said with a fond look at her brother. “Charles could never sit still long enough for reading.”

  “That is because I am always wanting to do things. I am sure that Darcy has completely given up on turning me into a great reader.”

  “Completely,” Mr. Darcy agreed. “It is no use wasting time on the impossible.” He smiled in that way which Elizabeth adored.

  “I am a very hopeful sort of person,” Mr. Hurst said in his good-natured way. “I have great hopes for you as well, Miss Bennet. The library at Pemberley will be your temptation.”

  “I certainly look forward to taking advantage of it,” Elizabeth said.

  Miss Bingley perked up again. “It is a very superior library,” she said in a knowing way. “Mr. Darcy has done much to add to it. Pemberley itself is a noble estate, and he has greatly added to its beauties as well.”

  Obviously, she meant to display her superior knowledge of Pemberley. Elizabeth was not provoked by this either. Since she and Mr. Darcy had announced their engagement, Miss Bingley had been sulky and rude, but she was harmless.

  “I cannot presume to take credit for the beauties of Pemberley,” Mr. Darcy said modestly. “The library is mostly the work of previous generations, but I have added extensively to the collection. In such days as these, it is impossible not to buy a great many books.”

  “Unless you are a fellow like me,” Mr. Bingley said ruefully. “I am glad you are not a great reader, Miss Bennet. I need not feel too mortified if you go looking in my library for a book.”

  “Dare I go into the library?” Elizabeth asked. “Is it not Mr. Hurst’s personal domain?”

  “I suppose it is, and he is very welcome to it.”

  “Come along and choose a book any time you like,” Mr. Hurst said to her. “You will not be in my way. On that note, if you will excuse me, I wish to have one more look at my machine before retiring for the night.”

  “What is it that you are inventing this time?” Mr. Bingley asked. “It does look very interesting.”

  “It is still a secret,” Mr. Hurst said, rising from his chair. “You will find out soon enough though. I am almost ready to give you a demonstration.”

  “I only hope that it is safe,” Mr. Darcy said in an amused voice.

  “I have made him promise that he will not blow us all up.” Mrs. Hurst smiled affectionately at her husband.

  “Did I promise that? I cannot remember it, my dear.”

  “You are only teasing us,” she said with a little laugh.

  Mr. Hurst touched his wife on the shoulder and gave her a fond look. “Of course I am. You know that I would never risk blowing up the people who are so important to me.”

  Mr. Darcy grinned. “I hope you do not mean to say that you would not mind blowing up complete strangers,” he observed.

  “No indeed,” Mr. Hurst cried. “I did not put that very well at all, did I? Naturally, it would distress me to injure anybody.”

  “Well, luckily for the complete strangers, they do not have you staying in their homes,” Mr. Bingley said. “I will be most obliged if you do not blow up any of us or my library. Especially the library. I do not want to be forced to go out and purchase a vast quantity of new books. Darcy will never let me forget it.”

  They all laughed. Elizabeth looked happily upon this cheerful group of friends. The only exception was Miss Bingley, who was jealous of her and never passed over an opportunity to make an ill-natured remark, but that was just a drop in a bucket. The others were some of the most amiable people she had ever known. In a short time, Mr. Bingley, his elder sister, and her husband had become treasured friends, and Mr. Darcy had become the dearest person in the world to her.

  He also rose from the card table and went to sit beside her on a sofa. She set aside the book immediately. She was fond of reading, but contrary to Miss Bingley’s opinion, she did take pleasure in a great variety of things. Talking with Mr. Darcy while sitting in front of a cozy fire was very high on her list of preferences. This was perfect comfort, and she was happy that she had been able to come downstairs for a short time while Jane was sleeping restfully.

  Mr. Darcy also felt himself to be in a perfect situation. He had come to Netherfield with the simple expectation of spending the autumn in an agreeable way. The idea of finding love here had certainly not occurred to him, but love had
indeed been the result of this visit. It had swept him up almost from the moment he and Elizabeth had met at the assembly. Every morning since then, he had woken to the feeling of being a very lucky man.

  He had been lucky in more than one way. Mr. Bingley might have taken an estate anywhere. It was extremely fortunate that he had settled upon this place.

  While the happy couple were enjoying a little time together, and Mrs. Hurst was trying to improve her sister’s mood with some cheerful conversation, Mr. Hurst had gone off to the library, a room in which the oak shelves were only half filled with books.

  “For your benefit and my own credit, I wish my collection were larger,” Mr. Bingley had said when they had arrived at Netherfield.

  “Perhaps you may build upon it in time,” Mr. Hurst had replied hopefully. Fortunately, he was not without a sufficient quantity of excellent reading material. Anticipating the lamentable state of his brother-in-law’s collection, he had brought a crate of his own books.

  They been little used though. Out of curiosity, he had perused the library shelves, and one volume had caught his attention. Its subject was not entirely unfamiliar to him. He had heard a similar theory at Cambridge., but he had not thought about it for a long time.

  That day, he read the whole book in one sitting, forgetting all about luncheon. As he turned the pages, a fantastic idea was growing in his mind. It was the most absurd notion. He was quite capable of acknowledging that, yet he still thought it had great possibilities, and that remarkable book had helped him to see how it could be done.

  After Mrs. Hurst had come along and persuaded him to dine with the others, he had returned to the library and spent the evening writing notes and covering sheets of paper with complex calculations. The next day, he had gone out in search of useful materials for a new invention.

  Today he looked proudly upon the machine which he had constructed over the course of the past month. It was very nearly done. He only wished to make a few adjustments and conduct some tests, after which he looked forward to displaying his invention to his friends. With a burst of energy, he set about his task.

  He was still at it when Elizabeth availed herself of his offer and went into the library to choose a book before going upstairs. She saw him standing beside a rather large machine, which was comprised of some brass parts and a great many tubes, coils, and cogs. On one face, there were numerous rows of dials, which must serve to make the contraption do whatever it had been designed to do. A glass cylinder protruded from one end. She could not imagine what it was for.

  “This looks quite fascinating,” she said. “I cannot wait to see what it does.”

  Only One Friend Among Them

  “Do you prefer reading to cards?” a very different Mr. Hurst scornfully asked a less comfortably situated Elizabeth in another reality. “That is rather singular.”

  “Miss Eliza Bennet is a great reader and takes no pleasure in anything else,” Miss Bingley said.

  Mrs. Hurst tittered.

  “I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,” Elizabeth said. “I am not a great reader, and I take pleasure in many things.”

  Like walking, Mr. Darcy thought, recalling her vibrant appearance this morning after having walked across the fields. And dancing, and enjoying the company of friends, whom she often brought to laughter. And provoking him, as she had lately begun to do. Still, he very much wanted to come to her defence or even to tell Miss Bingley off for being insulting. He had no right though. Nor did he want to make a spectacle of himself. Miss Bingley already had an idea of his admiration for their guest, and he did not want to add fuel to that fire.

  Instead, it was Mr. Bingley who eased the moment by saying that Elizabeth also took pleasure in nursing her sister. She received this compliment gratefully. He was the only person in this company for whom she had any liking, but his friendliness went a long way in making up for the rudeness of his sisters, as well as the scorn of Mr. Hurst, and the aloofness of Mr. Darcy.

  Their company made her wish that she was not staying at Netherfield. For Jane’s sake though, she could endure a great deal. Besides, she did not especially care what Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst thought of her. Or Mr. Hurst, who was slouching over the card table and cared only about his game and having his glass refilled. He was certainly not a great reader. It had probably been a long time since he had picked up a book, and Elizabeth did not think him likely to do so at any time in the future either.

  From books, the conversation turned to Pemberley, that magnificent house of which Mr. Darcy was master, and Miss Bingley obviously longed to be mistress. After that, the subject of young ladies’ accomplishments was discussed. Elizabeth could not resist the temptation to contribute her own observations and opinions in response to Mr. Darcy’s high standards.

  This brought upon her cries of injustice from Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, and also the impatience of Mr. Hurst, who was wanting his companions to attend to their card game. His demands ended the discussion, and soon afterwards, Elizabeth left the room to return to her sister. She had only come downstairs in the first place because it felt appropriate to make at least a brief appearance in the drawing room.

  Before going upstairs, she first paid a visit to the library to avail herself of an offer Mr. Bingley had made earlier, which was to help herself to his meagre collection of books. Unlike the bright drawing room which she had just left, there were no candles illuminating this room. In the grate, a small fire was slowly burning out. It was necessary for her to use a candle taken from the hall in order to choose a book. She quickly found one which was to her taste and took it upstairs with her.

  Unfortunately, Jane’s condition worsened in the next little while. Elizabeth left her for just a few minutes and went downstairs to inform her host and hostess of this change. Mr. Bingley’s concern was touching, and she had to persuade him that the apothecary need not be summoned immediately. The morning would be sufficient.

  His sisters also declared themselves to be most concerned, but his voice had the greater ring of truth. They suggested sending for a town physician, but Elizabeth was inclined to think that they were more concerned with displaying the superior style of living to which they were accustomed than with her sister’s care. Unless there was a great change, Mr. Jones the apothecary was quite capable of managing Jane’s illness.

  If only there could be a great change in Miss Bingley’s and Mrs. Hurst’s characters, she thought as she walked upstairs again. If only they could just be as nice as their brother. That would be a wondrous thing indeed, but there was no chance of it ever happening.

  A Whirling Vortex

  Elizabeth spent the night watching over her sister and had the satisfaction of seeing some improvement. When Mr. Bingley sent a housemaid to enquire about Jane’s health very early in the morning, she was happy to send him a better report. He had been just as worried as she had by this illness, which was quite natural considering his engagement to her sister.

  In a little while, Mrs. Hurst came in person to make the same enquiry, and Mr. Hurst popped his head around the door before going down to the library to get an early start on his work. He was very pleased to hear of the invalid’s improvement. So was Mr. Darcy, who had been a great comfort to Elizabeth at this trying time. He now shared her relief wholeheartedly and was as pleased as if Jane was his own sister. Of course, she soon would be, and he had already begun to treat her as one.

  Miss Bingley made a show of being equally pleased, but quite a bit later than everybody else, and without displaying any signs of real feeling. She had never been enthusiastic about her brother’s engagement and had made no secret of thinking that he could have done a great deal better.

  Not wanting to be overly confident about her sister’s health, Elizabeth desired her mother’s opinion as well. On hearing of her wish for this, Mr. Darcy sent his own carriage to Longbourn to fetch his future mother-in-law with expediency.

  She arrived with her younger daughters, whom Elizabeth would r
ather not have seen at Netherfield. Kitty and Lydia generally behaved in a way which she found embarrassing. For that matter, her mother’s lack of manners and discretion was often mortifying as well. Lately, she was inclined toward talking at length about the recent good fortune of her two eldest daughters and the wealth of their fiancés.

  Mr. Darcy was very kind and tolerant of all this, but Elizabeth knew that he must inwardly be deploring her family’s behaviour on every occasion which brought them together. Mr. Bingley and the Hursts could not be oblivious either, but they were so tactful when any awkwardness arose. On the other hand, Miss Bingley made it obvious that she enjoyed seeing any of the Bennets shame themselves and their family.

  Fortunately, this visit passed without causing Elizabeth any great discomfort. Mr. Darcy was instrumental in keeping her mother from being excessively outspoken, and Mr. Bingley entertained her sisters. They were eager for him to give a ball, which he promised to do when Jane was better. There was just a hint of censure in his voice when he said that the date could not be named until she was fully recovered.

  Lydia was not stirred to feel any penitence for her thoughtlessness. Instead she said, “That is a good idea. Captain Carter will be back from London by then, and we would not want to have a ball without him.”

  “Oh yes, we must have all the officers,” Miss Bingley said in a mocking tone. “You would not be able to enjoy yourself at all if even one of them was absent.”

  Mrs. Hurst stepped in with her useful tactfulness. “I remember how much I used to look forward to a ball when I was younger. I quite understand your eagerness to be dancing,” she said to Kitty and Lydia in a kindly voice.

  “Balls would be more rational if conversation were the order of the day instead of dancing,” Miss Bingley said in an arrogant voice.

  “But then they would not be balls,” Mr. Bingley pointed out. “Anyway, there is plenty of conversation at a ball for those who prefer it, and plenty of dancing for those who enjoy that sort of exercise. Of course, if you do not care for the dancing, Caroline, you may spend the evening conversing instead.