Work Text:
There was a most unusual occurrence on the 27th of November in 1809. A young man named Theodore Hook played a prank on a woman named Mrs Tottenham, of 54 Berners Street, but really it was a prank on the entire city of London. He sent thousands of letters out in her name, requesting outlandish items to be delivered, unnecessary services to be performed, and distinguished personages to visit. Chimney sweeps, vicars, the Mayor of London and more arrived one by one, each of them turned away by the household staff in confusion. Eventually a crowd gathered as word spread of the bizarre events occurring on this street in Mayfair. It was not until much later that the identity of the perpetrator became known; at the time of it happening, nothing was known except chaos.
Fitzwilliam Darcy found himself among the crowd of onlookers observing hapless merchants who were trying to get their wares through to the house. With him was his dear friend, Charles Bingley, and Bingley's younger sister, Caroline.
"But what is happening?" Bingley asked, for perhaps the tenth time.
"This was obviously a coordinated scheme to embarrass the woman," Caroline sniffed. "Who would think to do such a thing? Pranks are positively vulgar."
Personally, Darcy found the whole thing amusing, and rather clever too. He would never play such a prank himself, yet he was glad to be witness to one, especially one on such a large scale as this. After all, there was really very little harm done, as far as he could tell, besides inconvenience. He looked around and wondered if the perpetrator was nearby to witness his own triumph.
Bingley was scanning the nearby faces as well, it seemed. "Look, over there, I see Miss Porter!" he exclaimed. He grasped his sister's arm to tug her towards the young lady. "We must be polite and greet your friend, Caroline," he added, with a wink to Darcy. The pair disappeared in the crowd and Darcy rolled his eyes. Miss Porter must be the angel he had heard about.
He glanced around again to gauge other reactions to the bizarre events unfolding on this street. There were disapproving looks, matrons tut-tutting, and confused children asking questions their governesses could not answer. Evidently, Miss Bingley was not the only one who found the whole thing distasteful. Was he the only person deriving amusement from the absurdity of it all?
A small commotion brought his attention back to the front of 54 Berners Street. He leaned slightly forward in anticipation and saw a boy struggling to make his way through the crowd while carrying a large object. Could it be – he looked closer – yes! Another wedding cake! Though Darcy ordinarily was not one whose good humour expressed itself in mirth, he grinned widely at the sight.
"Quite preposterous," he overheard a man say disapprovingly. "I fail to comprehend the purpose of this farce," a different woman said to her husband. Darcy continued to smile as he watched the boy valiantly working his way towards his destination.
Suddenly he heard laughter a little to his right. A woman's laughter, but not the light tittering practised by the ladies he encountered at balls. This was a full, hearty, happy laugh – the kind that could not be repressed, that bubbled out against one's will, because it simply became impossible to hold in a moment longer. The sound called out to him and warmed him through on this chilly autumn day. He turned to see who issued it.
It was a young lady, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years of age, whom he had never seen before. Indeed, he had not noticed her in his recent observation of his surroundings, but she must have been there. She was standing with a woman hardly older than himself, who appeared to be attempting to hush her charge but with clear amusement in her eyes belying her intent. The younger woman continued to laugh, covering her mouth with both hands, and Darcy's smile grew.
She finally managed to control her fit and looked around briefly in mild consciousness at her display. Their eyes met. His breath caught. The unapologetic mirth still evident in her countenance made her radiant. The situation they were witnessing was absurd, and nearly everyone around them disapproved of whatever it was, but she was clearly delighted. She was delightful. She was lovely.
After a moment she turned away to say something to her companion, and Darcy mourned the loss. In a matter of seconds the joy lighting her eyes had sparked a longing deep within him. This was obviously a girl who laughed often. Since his father's death two years before, he had known no joy. His young sister was away at school much of the time. He was still struggling to grow accustomed to the role of master of his large estate and relied heavily on his uncle's knowledge. He made mistakes, far too many mistakes for his fastidious nature to forgive himself. He felt overwhelmed by responsibility and very alone; too busy to properly mourn his parents, and if not for the companionship of his friend Bingley and his cousin Fitzwilliam he may have already succumbed to despair.
He envied this stranger's ability to be so light-hearted. Joy was the one thing missing in his life, and one thing she had in abundance. A sudden wish flooded him that she could be the one to teach him what happiness was.
He shifted his position slightly to attempt to more subtly examine the young lady. Now that she was not laughing, she looked rather unremarkable. It was no wonder he had not noticed her earlier. Her dress and adornments were tasteful and new enough, but of modest quality. At least she was clearly a gentlewoman. Her hair and figure were nice, but not out of the common way. Her face was rather pretty. He might have ended his evaluation there and looked elsewhere, except – those eyes! That laugh! Now he knew better. This woman certainly was remarkable after all.
She would make the perfect partner in amusement for the prank, yet he knew of no way to engineer an introduction. He was surrounded by strangers. Perhaps her chaperone would overlook a breach in propriety in introducing himself. Before he could think better of it and stop himself, he slowly, deliberately, closed the gap between them until he was standing directly beside her. Becoming aware of the new body at her side, the young lady looked up in surprise and a little apprehension as she waited to see if he would speak.
"What do you think will come next?" he asked conspiratorially, smiling lightly, as he nodded in the direction of the house.
She beamed in pleasure at the question and his heart leapt. "I have heard that several pianofortes have come and been turned away already," she replied. "I dearly hope I can see one!"
"That would be an excellent sight," he agreed. "If we are very lucky, perhaps a full orchestra will set up and play for us."
She laughed. "Or a circus? I have always wanted to see an elephant in person. One turning up here would be most convenient."
Darcy's heart swelled. He was enchanted by her simple jest. She was even more beautiful up close like this, and he had caused her to laugh! He would never tire of that sound if he heard it every day for the rest of his life. He noticed now that her hair shone a certain way in the sun: it was not the plain brown colour he had at first presumed, but had subtle streaks of red that only emerged when the light hit it just so. He did not believe he had seen anything like it before. She watched him boldly as he stood there stupidly, too busy admiring her to speak again. Her eyes held amusement, but something more; something like interest, perhaps even her own feelings of admiration. He wondered if she felt this connection too. He wondered if he could find a way someday to take her to India to see an elephant.
The other woman leaned in to interrupt the moment. "How long have you been observing the events here, Mr…?"
"Forgive me, madam. It is Darcy. Fitzwilliam Darcy," he said with a bow, quickly recovering from his daze.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Darcy," she replied. "I am Mrs Edward Gardiner, and this is my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
Elizabeth, he thought dreamily. How lovely. How perfect for her.
"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, ladies. To answer your question, I have been standing here for perhaps an hour. Please forgive my intrusion, but I noticed your reaction to the arrival of the latest wedding cake, and wished for some like-minded company."
The ladies had noticed that not many found the prank as amusing as they, and could not fault the young man for wanting to share in his humour. Mrs Gardiner said so and Darcy relaxed. She was not sending him away.
"We were shopping when we heard what was happening here, and of course felt compelled to come immediately," Elizabeth explained to make conversation.
Darcy took yet another glance over her. Where could a young lady who chose amusement over shopping have been? From her clothing she did not strike him as someone constantly haunting the milliner's. The intelligence in her eyes made him hope she shared a certain common interest with him. "Hatchard's?" he guessed.
"Why, yes!" Elizabeth grinned. "So you see, only something terribly important could tear me away."
"You appear to have at least made one purchase," he replied, indicating a small rectangular bulge in her reticule.
"That is the book I was already carrying with me. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I must return to the shop another time to finish my browsing."
There was nothing Darcy admired more in a woman than extensive reading. He drew his own book out of his coat pocket to show her: "It seems we share a proclivity to never leave the house without something to read."
Elizabeth glanced at it and laughed aloud, the same irrepressible laugh that had first drawn his notice, and Darcy wondered what he could possibly have done to deserve to hear such an exquisite sound a second time. He understood when she opened her reticule. It was the same book.
They shared a laugh, even Mrs Gardiner joining in, drawing displeased looks from nearby loiterers. After a few moments they settled into a comfortable contented silence.
"I wonder what will happen to all those cakes," Elizabeth asked idly, as the trio watched the delivery boy head back into the crush of people, evidently turned away from the house the same as all the others.
Before Darcy could respond, several officers pushed their way to the front of number 54, and began shouting for the crowd to disperse and mind their business as they dealt with the prank. Reluctantly, people began brushing past them in compliance to return to their homes, and Darcy felt a panic rise as he realised his time with Miss Bennet could already be over when it had hardly begun. He had never done something like this before, seeking out an unknown woman, but he felt drawn to her like he never had before with another person. He knew – just knew – he must know her better or he would spend the rest of his life wondering what could have been.
"It is just as well we must leave," Mrs Gardiner said, shivering. "I am getting rather cold standing about."
"Shall we continue shopping, then?" Elizabeth asked her aunt. She glanced up at Darcy and he felt certain he saw regret in those fine eyes. His sense of propriety warred with his need to remain in her presence, but the hope that she desired to part ways as little as he did emboldened him.
"I am free for the rest of the morning, and would enjoy a trip to Hatchard's if you do not mind my company," he interjected. "Perhaps after a little time has passed the officers will leave and we could catch another visitor or delivery."
Elizabeth turned pleading eyes back to Mrs Gardiner, silently begging permission for this handsome and charming man to join them. She could not refuse the dear girl who looked so pleased with the request. She knew the good reputation of the Darcy family, whose estate was near her home town of Lambton in Derbyshire, and she trusted the gentleman who seemed genuinely taken with her niece.
"Thank you for the offer, Mr Darcy, we would be delighted to enjoy your company for a little longer," she said.
"Shall we?" he asked, as he offered an arm to each lady.
As the group ambled away in the direction of the bookstore, Darcy felt a strong emotion well up within him. Elizabeth felt so right on his arm. Her laughter was music to his ears. Her eyes made him believe he could have something he had always craved but had never dared to hope for. Perhaps the long years of sorrow since his mother's passing were reaching their end. He looked down to gaze at her, and she was watching him too. They smiled.
There were many people who would remember the 27th of November, 1809, on Berners Street in London. Yet Darcy knew, as he repeated the familiar tale to his children of the strange day he met their mother, that no one could possibly recall that day with more fondness and joy than he.
A related story was written by my pal MightierThanTheToothbrush. Please check it out!
If anyone else writes their own in this theme I would be happy to see it.