Sunday, 17 November
Netherfield
For the first time in Elizabeth’s life, she awoke with a pounding head, no doubt from over-imbibing the previous evening. She vowed not to make that mistake again. However, she had a far more pressing problem: Was she Darcy or Lizzy? Finding scratchy stubble on her face, she released a beleaguered sigh. Her hopes of changing while she slept had not been fulfilled. Unless something drastic happened this morning, this meant that she would not be going home with Jane but must remain behind to fend for herself without Darcy’s guidance.
Making matters worse, a frightening pressure loomed beneath her nightshirt. Tears stinging her eyes, she made use of the chamber pot, which provided relief in that quarter, but her head still ached.
Checking Darcy’s watch, she knew he would be in the library within minutes. Without calling for the valet, she used cold water from the washbasin to wash her whiskered face. After slipping the banyan over her nightshirt, she donned soft slippers and silently flew down the stairs to the library. She found Mr Darcy pacing the floor, dressed in her flounced nightgown and wrapped in a coverlet from the bed.
“Oh, Mr Darcy, I cannot bear it. I had hoped we would switch back overnight, but…” Her voice failed, and she pressed a hand to her quivering lips, overcome by the hopelessness of her situation.
“What is this? Are you not the same person who challenged me on several occasions these past weeks?” he said, his brow creased in confusion. “You disagreed with my opinions of a lady’s accomplishments and yielding to a friend’s persuasion. You chided me for my defects, and twice refused to dance with me. I know of no other woman with more courage.”
His confident speech revived her. “Thank you, Mr Darcy. I am not usually so poor-spirited, but I have never been so overset. I shall recover and do my best to conquer these daunting circumstances.” She rubbed her aching temples. “Did I embarrass you last night? I fear I had too much to drink. I did not intend to over imbibe, but Bingley kept filling my glass.”
“I suspected as much. You must keep it out of his reach and decline if he attempts to top it off.”
“And then there was the nightcap,” she said, shuddering. “It was some amber monstrosity.”
He nodded his understanding. “Whiskey, most likely.”
“I thought I would expire.”
“I would recommend avoiding it if you can,” he said, smirking.
She could not share his humour. “I would prefer to avoid this entire scenario, but that seems impossible,” she said, then remembered her losses in the game room. “By the way, I owe you one pound. You lost to Bingley yesterday at billiards.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“It was abysmal. You did not score a single point.”
He laughed. “I should have known you would disgrace me.”
While she appreciated his attempt to lift her spirits, the enormity of her position weighed heavily on her. “But seriously, how shall I manage without you?”
“We shall meet tomorrow morning and make our plans for the day. Where can we meet undetected?”
“There is a copse of pines beyond Longbourn’s northern field. No one will see us there, especially early in the morning, but it is two miles from here.”
“You must take my horse,” he said with conviction.
“Impossible. I never learned how to ride.” What’s more, she was terrified of the irrational beasts.
He shook his head, dismissing her concerns. “Bart knows my scent. He will not oppose you if you offer him a treat and let him sniff my clothes. Give Jimmy the groom a shilling and ask him to saddle the horse for you.”
This made no sense to Elizabeth. “It cannot possibly be as simple as you claim. I have not even the slightest idea how to mount a horse.”
“Ask Jimmy for a hand up. He will assume you have over-imbibed the night before or have some ailment. He will oblige you.”
“Once I have done that, how do I go on?”
Darcy offered a few tips for walking, trotting, turning, and stopping. “Be gentle on the reins so you do not hurt his mouth. Can you manage it?”
“I must,” she said, knowing there was no challenge she would not answer.
***
“That’s the spirit. I will see you at eight o’clock,” Darcy said, encouraged by Elizabeth’s willingness to meet him. Chilled by the lack of fire in the library grate, he tugged the coverlet tightly. With no banyan or dressing gown, the bedding had been his only choice to cover Elizabeth’s threadbare nightdress. “Is there a horse available for me at Longbourn?”
“Jane has a chestnut mare, but she will question you, since I have never wanted to ride before.”
“Leave it to me, I will be there,” he said, then observed her worried brow. “I beg you to stay strong, Miss Elizabeth. The future of Pemberley rests on your shoulders.”
She inhaled deeply, revived by his encouragement. “I shall not fail you, Mr Darcy. Somehow, we shall endure this together and find our way back to our true selves.”
As much as Darcy wanted to share Elizabeth’s optimism, he held little hope of success. They had not intentionally changed places, nor had they switched back overnight as she had predicted. How were they to defy the forces that had assailed them?
“Miss Bingley is remarkably devoted to you,” she said.
That name sent a shudder of revulsion through him. “Caroline Bingley cares no more for me than I do for her; however, she holds my fortune in the highest regard,” he said. After repeating his warning to avoid the lady, he wondered if she approved of his performance. “Did I pass myself off creditably as Miss Elizabeth last night?”
“I saw nothing objectionable; but, you might have told me about your affliction upon rising,” she said with a hint of disgust in her voice.
He suppressed a smile. “I am terribly sorry, but that is easily remedied.”
“I am unfamiliar with the quirks of the male anatomy.”
“And I am quite at a loss without those quirks.” She covered her face and giggled merrily. “There now, that is better,” he said, pleased to hear her laugh.
“It may be vastly humorous, but I know not when I have been so mortified.”
Darcy could not disagree; he, too, had endured his share of embarrassing moments. “You need a shave,” he said, observing his usual morning shadow. “Hobbs will bring everything and will take no notice if you ask him to do it. I often defer to him when I am a trifle out of sorts.”
She stared incredulously. “Out of sorts does not begin to describe what I am feeling. We must determine how to reverse whatever has happened to us. Unfortunately, I have nothing to suggest,” she said, then paced distractedly.
Darcy noticed that Elizabeth also paced to organise her thoughts. “With any luck, something will present itself.”
“I hope you may be right, but if nothing occurs in the next few hours, you will go home with Jane, and I will remain here with those horrid women.”
His outlook was just as repellent. “They can be no worse than your sisters and mother, whose conduct is repugnant.”
Fire sparked in her eyes. “Must you be so detestable?” she said, then turned on her heel and stormed from the room.
Darcy curst himself for his uncontrolled outburst. No purpose could be served by insulting Elizabeth, who deserved every consideration. She had been thrown into this fiasco through no fault of her own and was just as desperate as him to return to her original form. Quickly leaving the library, he vowed not to make that mistake again.
***
Elizabeth returned to her chamber and collapsed onto the bed. Besides Darcy’s despicable comments about her family, which were not entirely false, the prospect of facing another day in this altered state was far too daunting. Breaking her promise to Darcy, she buried her face into her pillow and wept.
Her outlook and headache were no better when Hobbs and a chambermaid arrived sometime later. The maid lit a fire in the grate, then scurried out again, and the valet poured hot water from a pitcher into the washbasin.
Dear Lord! She had not even considered that she would be required to bathe Mr Darcy’s body. Holding her aching head in her hands, she groaned in mortification.
“Shall I assume you are suffering the repercussions of last night’s endeavours?” Hobbs inquired.
“You know me too well, Mr Hobbs,” she said, wondering if Darcy frequently over-indulged.
“I shall see to getting you some coffee while you bathe.” Hobbs hung clean linens on the washstand and left her alone.
Knowing it must be done, she removed the banyan and stripped off her nightshirt. She performed her usual morning ablutions with one exception; she kept her eyes firmly shut. Although this precaution did nothing to lessen her embarrassment, she hoped to protect Mr Darcy’s modesty and, more importantly, her own. Once this was done, she donned the banyan and awaited the coffee.
Hobbs returned with the dark brew, and knowing it would hasten her relief, she drank it without complaint. When asked what she wanted to wear that day, she replied: “Perhaps black, to match my mood.” The valet made no remark but collected the necessary articles of clothing, especially the breeches, which she quickly donned.
“I have everything ready for your shave,” he said, gesturing to the washbasin.
Upon observing the ominous razor, Elizabeth baulked. This was yet another facet of a man’s life that was entirely foreign to her. Taking Darcy’s advice, she asked Hobbs to perform the task. “I am so weary, I shall surely inflict permanent damage if I attempt it.”
“Certainly, sir,” he said, then draped her with a linen and brushed her face with hot water. Then applying sandalwood-scented soap lather to her face, he set to work with the razor.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and held perfectly still, fearing disaster if she moved. When Hobbs paused, then instructed her to tilt her chin up, she feared her clumsiness would give her away. “Forgive me, Mr Hobbs. I’m afraid I am quite useless today.”
“You will feel better presently.”
This prediction proved somewhat true. By the time Elizabeth arrived at the church with her housemates, increasing dread had replaced her headache.
Although she was still furious with Darcy for his stinging insults, fending for herself at Netherfield without him to advise her would surely be the most difficult challenge she had ever faced. She fervently prayed to be released from the curse that had caused this monstrous disruption of her peace. She wanted nothing more than to be at home where she belonged.
When the worship service ended, she greeted her closest friends, who returned only the briefest civilities. Trapped in this dreadful masquerade, she was now forced to play the role of a gentleman of distinction who rarely smiled or laughed. Mary King, Harriet Harrington, and Amelia Goulding were now merely passing acquaintances. Sir William Lucas offered his usual effusive greetings, but everyone else was politely distant, even Charlotte Lucas, whom Elizabeth had known since her infancy. She watched as her neighbours and lifelong friends greeted her doppelganger with their effusive warmth and affection. She sincerely hoped he could put aside his usual sombre manner and pass himself off as Lizzy Bennet. Thankfully, she saw no evidence that anyone suspected Darcy was not whom he claimed to be.