Fifty Shades of Mr Darcy: A Parody (22 page)

As they emerged from the shrubbery, they saw Cragg the housekeeper hurriedly coming towards them with a letter in her hand.

‘Oh, Miss Jane! Miss Elizabeth!’ she called out lower-classly. ‘An express has just come, with a missive for you from Mr Bennet!’

Immediately, the two young ladies ran towards her, and caught the letter impatiently from her gnarled hand. ‘Read it aloud,’ Jane entreated Elizabeth.

‘My dear girls, at last I am able to send you some tidings of your sister and Mr Whackem. I have discovered their whereabouts, and upon visiting their lodgings, found them busy at it
…’

‘Oh no!’ gasped Jane.

‘… stapling page proofs together into sales packages. I confronted Whackem as to his intentions towards Lydia, and he confessed he could not afford to pay her a living wage as his
company is considerably in arrears. However, he has high hopes for selling
Fifty Grades of Seed
, a companion volume to
Fifty Grades of Hay
. To make this liaison legitimate, I have suggested that I give Lydia her share of the £5,000 I had intended to divide among you five girls after my death; if Lydia invests that amount, she will become a partner and director of
Whackem Enterprises. All is agreed and settled, and the papers will be signed this week, whereafter we shall return to Longbourn.’

Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. ‘Whackem would never allow Lydia on the board of directors for anything less than ten thousand pounds,’ she mused. ‘He is no fool. He has
considerable overheads, and has debts to settle. I cannot believe he has agreed to this.’

Jane’s brow furrowed, too. They furrowed at each other intensely. ‘What are you thinking, Lizzy?’ Jane asked.

‘That there is more to this than meets the eye. Someone – some mysterious benefactor, as our stepfather has less than two shillings to rub together – must have settled
Whackem’s other debts, and no doubt invested a considerable sum in his business venture.’

‘But who?’

The two sisters thought hard. ‘Do we know any fabulously wealthy gentlemen with vested interests in the wellbeing of our family, or at least one of our number?’

Jane shook her head. It was a mystery indeed.

The rest of the week was spent preparing for the return of the wayward business executives. The news was received badly by Mrs Bennet, who spent another two days in bed weeping and lamenting the
fact that her youngest daughter had wilfully made herself so unattractive to men. By Wednesday she had rallied, however, and professed herself strong enough to hear about Lydia’s boardroom
antics.

Elizabeth, sick of this folly, took refuge in her own room, that she might think with freedom. Poor Lydia’s situation must, at best, be bad enough, but that it was no worse, she had reason
to be thankful. Who could the mysterious benefactor be?

The day of Lydia’s return arrived, and Mrs Bennet and her four elder daughters waited on the front steps of Longbourn for a glimpse of the carriage that would carry her
and Whackem thither. On sighting it, Kitty gave a shriek of joy, and even Mrs Bennet managed a wan smile.

Lydia’s voice was carried on the air: ‘That’s all very well, Whackem, but does it have legs? We need to make sure it’s robust before we take it to market
…’

Now they could hear Whackem’s voice, too. ‘I’m confused, Lydia – are we still talking about Daisy, my disabled cow, or the new book project?’

The door of the carriage was thrown open, and Lydia stepped out, beaming, and embraced her family warmly. What a change she had undergone! Gone were the ribbon-bedecked bonnet and sprigged
muslin gown she used to favour, and in its place, Lydia wore a mannish suit; the jacket had curiously exaggerated shoulders, while the skirt tapered to fit closely at the knee. Her boots were
vanished, too, and replaced by dainty shoes with high, spiked heels, and in her hands, she carried a rectangular leather valise with a small handle.

‘Look after my briefcase, Lizzy, there’s a dear,’ she said airily, thrusting the valise into Elizabeth’s outstretched arms. ‘And Jane!’ she declared.
‘Whatever is the matter? You look so wan! Are you still waiting for someone to marry you? I do declare, I am glad to be free of all that nonsense.’ She giggled. ‘I shan’t
need to moon after officers again. The only balls I’m interested in now are the ones I intend to break in the boardroom.’

Mrs Bennet looked as if she might faint, and indeed, she reeled slightly as Mr Whackem stepped down from the coach behind Lydia. In appearance he was little altered, but he wore a sheepish look,
and when Elizabeth’s eyes sought his, he gazed down at the gravel as if it were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.

Lydia swept into the house ahead of her mother and sisters, prattling all the while about how small and unimpressive Longbourn looked in comparison to the Bristol Premier Inn, which had so
impressed her with its amenities – tea-and coffee-making facilities in every room, and even a newfangled trouser press.

Kitty was chided for looking fashionable, and Elizabeth for having an attractive glow about her.

‘Why Mary!’ Lydia suddenly declared, catching sight of her sister in side profile. ‘How fat you have become in my absence.’

Mary glowered at Lydia, but, Elizabeth thought, there was some truth in what Lydia had said. Mary had indeed gained weight these past few weeks, especially about her middle, no doubt thanks to
her sedentary pursuits of piano-playing and poring over Latin texts. Elizabeth determined to ask Mary to join her in future on her daily jaunts through the woods.

An awkward luncheon followed, during which Whackem and Lydia discussed their plans for expanding Whackem Enterprises and the shocking rise in European paper prices, while the rest of the family
listened and nodded politely.

‘We can’t tarry long, I’m afraid,’ Whackem declared. ‘We have a shareholders’ meeting.’

‘You are not stopping here, at Longbourn?’ Mrs Bennet exclaimed.

‘No, this was just a brunch meeting,’ Lydia said briskly. ‘We need to be in Hertford at two o’clock.’

With that she rose from the table and brushed down her jacket. ‘Oh, you will never guess who is to be at the shareholders’ meeting, Lizzy. Your Mr Darcy!’

Elizabeth blinked in surprise.

‘He has invested twenty thousand pounds,’ she said happily. ‘A very generous gesture. He has, however, stipulated that we are to invest a proportion of that money in a new
series of collectors’ editions of his pornography etchings.’

So Mr Darcy was their saviour! It was
he
who had rescued Lydia, condemned as she was to a life of penury and disgrace; at least she only had to deal with the disgrace bit now.

‘Will you become a feminist now, Lydia?’ Mrs Bennet asked with trepidation. ‘I know many young ladies are turning to the ideas of Mary Wollstonecraft, but they are doubtless
all of them virgins. You do know that men do not favour women with strong ideas?’

Lydia laughed. ‘Oh, sod all that, Mother,’ she declared. ‘No one ever got ahead in business by being a feminist.’

Mrs Bennet gave a sigh of relief.

‘No,’ Lydia continued. ‘I’ve got a far better plan than that. I’m going to have a sex change.’

Lydia and Whackem’s departure left Mrs Bennet in no better spirits than before. Lydia was obviously set on changing gender, Elizabeth had not heard from Mr Darcy and was
at risk of no longer being a sex slave, Jane and Kitty were still boyfriend-less, and Mary, frankly, was porky. It was almost enough to drive her back to her bed.

A most fortuitous turn of events, however, took place the following week, which gave Mrs Bennet reason to hope that all would, ultimately, be well. She and her three eldest daughters were at
their darning when Kitty suddenly burst into the room.

‘What is it, child?’ asked Mrs Bennet, who had dropped her bloomers in shock.

Kitty was panting. ‘Mr Bingley! He comes hither!’

‘What?’ shrieked her mother. ‘Mr Elliot Bingley, of Netherfield? Are you sure, girl?’

‘I saw him on the road from Meryton. He comes on horseback,’ Kitty exclaimed. ‘And there is someone else with him, but I cannot be certain who it is.’

Elizabeth’s heart gave a start. Could it be Mr Darcy, at last? How she had missed his steel-grey eyes, his muscular thighs, his crispy fries and his mutton pies – he had turned out
to be a surprisingly good cook.

The news of Bingley’s imminent arrival threw the household into a flurry of activity. Jane was sent upstairs to don her most diaphanous, see-through gown and Cragg was summoned to make her
mistress’s hair presentable. Kitty and Mary were sent out into the garden, to make themselves scarce. Elizabeth sat intently with her needlework, hardly daring to hope that Mr Bingley’s
return could signify the resurgence of his ardour for her sister.

Presently the visitors reached the house, and after their horses were tethered, they were shown into the parlour.

Cragg made their introduction: ‘Mr Bingley, ma’am, and … Princess Leilani.’

Mr Bingley burst in in his customary lolloping fashion, like an eager but dim springer spaniel. From behind him, a beautiful dark-eyed girl of about eighteen peeped shyly from beneath a
rose-trimmed bonnet. Her complexion was dusky, her hair black as midnight.

Upon seeing Jane, Mr Bingley’s own countenance lit up. ‘Why, Miss Bennet!’ he cried, ‘how well you look. I confess, it has been too long since I have been at
Longbourn.’

‘Indeed it has,’ interjected Elizabeth. ‘Some seven months and fourteen days. And did you enjoy your sojourn in the South Seas, Mr Bingley? I trust the waves were gnarly enough
for your liking.’

Mr Bingley turned to her and bowed politely. ‘They were, Miss Bennet. It was radical. But I confess, I did miss Hertfordshire.’ And again, he looked at Jane with bright, hopeful
eyes.

Princess Leilani at that moment gave a little cough, and Mr Bingley seemed to remember himself.

‘Oh, forgive me. Please allow me to introduce my girlfriend,’ he said cheerily. ‘I won her in a surfing competition in Waikiki.’

Jane turned instantly pale. Elizabeth looked at her with concern.

‘I’m afraid the Princess doesn’t speak a word of English,’ Mr Bingley continued. ‘But I had to bring her back with me to England because she’s
pregnant.’

Jane swayed noticeably in her chair.

‘I fear my sister is a little faint, Sir,’ Elizabeth cried.

Mr Bingley sprang forward and caught Jane in his arms. ‘Then pray, let me take her out into the garden for some fresh air,’ he exclaimed. Lifting her gently, he carried her towards
the French windows. The Princess’s eyes narrowed.

Jane and Mr Bingley were absent for some half an hour, and during that time, although Princess Leilani was offered pastries, tea and a game of cribbage, she refused all entertainment, and sat
silently upon a chair, staring fixedly through the window at the garden.

Presently, two figures appeared from the direction of the orchard, wandering across the grass hand in hand. Mr Bingley was beaming with happiness; Jane was no less radiant in her joy.

Princess Leilani began to mutter something under her breath.

‘Happy news!’ Mr Bingley burst out as soon as they had re-entered the parlour. ‘Jane has agreed to become my wife!’

‘This is joyous news indeed!’ cried Elizabeth, leaping up to embrace Jane.

‘I always knew this would happen!’ her mother crowed. ‘Did I not say, Lizzy, that if Jane were only to allow Bingley access to “below decks”, she would secure
him?’

Jane’s face was alight with happiness. ‘Oh Lizzy,’ she breathed. ‘I dared not hope! I had quite resolved to forget him, but here he is! If only you could share my
felicity, and find someone who means as much to you as my dear Bingley does to me.’

Mr Bingley patted Jane’s arm tenderly. ‘We are to be married as soon as we can. The reception will be held at Netherfield. We …’

Suddenly, his gaze met Princess Leilani’s. ‘Oh, golly. I quite forgot,’ he said apologetically.

‘Whatever will you do?’ enquired Elizabeth, as the princess’s lovely face clouded in anger.

‘Do not worry on that score,’ said a familiar voice from the doorway. Elizabeth gasped.
Mr Darcy!