Chapter Text
"Oh no," she murmured quietly as she looked at herself in the mirror.
A beautiful face looked back at her. Brown hair, brown eyes, full lips and an absolute stricken horror in her eyes.
Normally, when you wake up one day, wearing the body of another person and her previous memories in your head, well, a little bit of horror and terror could be excused. If you woke up as a main character of a novel, well, the horror and terror could be excused even more.
The only thing that relieved her was the fact that she wasn't the main character of a novel which might end with the end of the world if she failed. Only her family's ruin and her potential love life.
She stared at her own face and stroked her cheeks.
She was gorgeous, yes, but her sister was even more so. Angelic in appearance with a personality that made her even more so.
She had read 'Pride and Prejudice' as a teenager, and appreciated it. She had enjoyed and entertained daydreams about that kind of untouchable love for a number of days, and bemoaned her own lack of romance in life and then moved on with another book, or another event, in her life because life didn't stop for anyone and certainly not for her.
And yet, now, she stood in front of a mirror, living inside a body that was very real, in the middle of a story she had read many years ago, as the main character of the very same novel, and she was horrified, and stricken and extremely upset. Elizabeth Bennet was a lovely woman, and to replace her with her ?
God, what in the world was whoever thinking this, thinking????
She was carefree, and joyous, yes. But Elizabeth Bennet was something else. And even more importantly, she was someone else. Not only was one of the greatest romances ever completely ruined by whatever God had chosen to put her here, she didn't even know if her dear, darling, angelic sister would even manage to get married to the one she loved.
And she would make Elizabeth Bennet an actual spinster!
What a horror.
This was completely and utterly terrible.
Naturally, this was absolutely the perfect time for her mother to usher them all out of the house to take them to the first ball, where the Bennet family would get introduced officially to the Bingley trio and Darcy .
As in Mr. Darcy , the supposed love of a life for Elizabeth Bennet.
Fuck.
The good thing was, well, at least she had the memories of Elizabeth Bennet in her??
Gosh. What a perfect mess.
The Meryton ball was beautiful. She could see the small details that she hadn't in the many movies, or things that the books had never deigned to describe to their readers. Or well, details that might not have existed at all, actually.
She felt a fickle of hysterics under her skin even as she tried stubbornly to distract herself from it. Bursting into tears in the middle of a ba when literally nothing was wrong was a sure fire way to get asked questions like 'what's wrong?' and then when she wouldn't be able to answer, people would keep a closer eye on her and notice .
God.
People would know .
She wasn't Elizabeth Bennet !
She wasn't that crazy, bold, amazing woman who could go up against the world and come out the other side a victor. She was just. Her.
Should she just run away?
She had relatives in London, a Mr and Mrs Gardiner, who had been described as sensible. Oh god. Wouldn't they know then?
Before she descended into a full blown panic attack, her mother's voice cut through the noise and she started gossiping about Mr. Bingley and whatever their neighbours had altogether managed to gather together about him to Jane.
God, Jane .
Jane was beautiful.
And she was so very human .
She smiled at mother, a happy pleased sort of smile where she thought mother was exaggerating but she was happy to see her so animated and cheerful.
Just. Happy.
Jane used to be slightly air headed, in her youth. She was always complimented on her beauty and so she just grew unable to appreciate beauty at all. But she maintained herself for her mother, who looked so very pleased whenever she saw her most beautiful daughter.
Mrs Bennet, Mrs Amelia Bennet, was a relatively good mother. She was keyed up, anxious, prone to tears in her happiness and sadness, and jumped the ball a little too often. But she was…good. She cared as only a mother could, and didn't care in a way only someone, who had 5 daughters to take care of, could.
As soon as they entered the ballroom, they had all separated to do their own thing, far too used to these things to stick together shyly. Specially when they were already always together at home.
But when someone spotted Mr Bingley coming up, a crowd started gathering up near the door, and areas where they would have to go, like the drinks table or near the men who had already met them previously.
Elizabeth stumbled a little, caught up and distracted. And her mother caught both Jane and her smoothly before walking them towards Mr Bingley and his entourage.
It was almost an out of body experience, made even more so by the way everyone talked. So natural, that Elizabeth barely even realised how old the words sounded, and yet, so natural. Because Elizabeth had grown up in this time, with these memories.
She barely contributed, trying her best not to look at Mr. Darcy, at Miss Bingley or Mr Bingley or even her sister Jane. Mr Bingley offered to dance with Jane and Elizabeth had a moment of genuine panic where she thought she was going to vomit all over her company before she ducked her head, twisted out of reach and walked away .
Just.
Away.
Meryton ball.
Elizabeth Bennet, the future Mrs Darcy.
She felt shivers crawl down her spine and she really, dearly wanted to sit somewhere, puke her guts out and just cry. Though maybe not in that specific order.
She was ruining the whole thing. She was ruining the story. She was ruining everything.
Elizabeth wanted to cry, wanted to run, and wanted to stop shivering . And also just. Really wanted to be able to catch her breath. Cause it felt like an extremely hard task all of a sudden.
It took a while before Elizabeth realised she was having a panic attack and calmed herself down. It would be easier to have a panic attack and maybe just pass out, but then again, maybe not.
Hah.
She was extremely tempted to run back home, take off her clothes and just. Sleep. Back in her bed. In the room she shared with Jane.
Even in her mind, her 'back to her bed' was the bed here and not back there. Funny how this whole thing was working out.
A hysterical giggle unknowingly escaped her lips and she pressed her lips shut. She couldn't do this. She really couldn't do this.
"Elizabeth? Lizzy? Is something the matter?" Mary's quiet voice came first before she came close enough to see her sister's face. Elizabeth instantly yanked all of Elizabeth up front before turning to face her younger sister.
Mary had been her first younger sister. While Jane had always been there as far as Elizabeth's memory could reach, Elizabeth was sure that she was something like that to Mary. So she pulled on her facade tight across her face and turned to look at her amazing younger sister.
Mary had a concerned look on her face as she peered at her, looking like she could read the anxiety crawling under her skin like Elizabeth read the feelings of any character in a book.
(Like Elizabeth and Mary were both supposed to be.)
"You certainly don't look all right," Mary said, stepping in closer with a heavier look of concern. Mary was supposed to be on the piano, but instead she was with Elizabeth. Instead, Charlotte was supposed to be by her side.
Maybe.
She wasn't very sure.
She had read this one book so very long ago. Why, oh why, was she here ?
"Elizabeth?" Mary called out, and Elizabeth captured her sister's hands in her own slightly trembling cold ones. She feared that opening her own mouth would mean her hysterical laughter would escape. Or maybe she would start sobbing outright. "Whatever is the matter? Should I call for Jane? Or Charlotte?" Or maybe, Mama ? she read the words unsaid in the silence.
Only the very worst scenario could wrench her mother away from the two new arrivals in the ball. And also, of course, was Mr Bingley captured by Jane's charms.
Tearing her mother out was completely out of question.
The Meryton ball was cheerful, lively and full of dancing crowds. And Elizabeth only felt nauseous the more she looked at them all.
What was she doing here ?
"Elizabeth?" Mary called out again, looking far more panicked than before. Elizabeth took a deep breath, then another.
She didn't know how, but she could do this. She wouldn't faint . She hadn't fainted in her life and panic wasn't going to make her . So what if the world was messed up, so what if she was. She'd do something.
"Forgive me, Mary," she whispered. "I don't feel so well this evening," she offered her sister a faint smile. Mary's brow was furrowed with concern.
"Should I call Papa?" She asked, her grip tightening on Elizabeth's hands. She squeezed back reassuringly.
"No, there's no need. It will go away," she assured. She took another deep breath, then she took a step away from her sister. She could do this.
First step, ball.
She would deal with Mr Darcy and all the bullshit later.
She stepped inside and immediately set forth to some side away place where she could hide away for a little while. Maybe she would join in dancing sometime soon though. Dancing did look fun and Elizabeth had enjoyed it too, so that was nice.
"-but not handsome enough to tempt me. Go back to your own partner-"
She hesitated at the sound of familiar words spoken in a familiar tone and by the time she remembered why they were so familiar, she was caught. She had passed by the two of them, Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy, just as they were talking about her.
Or well, probably. She hadn't heard the beginning, and honestly, she hadn't even looked the man in the face, not unlike Mary, who stopped right behind her with a soft noise of surprise.
And oh boy, was he pretty.
Well, not pretty . But he was handsome. He was everything attractive- tall, broad and with an awkward sort of stiffness caused by his casually offensive remark caught by familiar ears. Or maybe it was the unfamiliar crowd.
She remembered that he hated being surrounded by unfamiliar people or something. Wasn't that his excuse for not dancing with anyone else in that exact ball?
Oh well, since she hadn't actually caught the whole harsh remark, she didn't have to pretend to be offended or actually end up slapping him in a manner completely unbefitting either of their stations or propriety in this day and age.
She could simply censure him and be done with him. Because she had to say something.
The two of them were stuck frozen, staring like two boys caught red handed with their hands down a cookie jar by their mother. And Mr Bingley looked like he was about to open his mouth to apologise.
Elizabeth just wanted to be done with this.
"Surely, sir, that wasn't a remark about any of the ladies in attendance here today?" She said, knowing clearly well, it was about her . Or well, most likely. "I doubt anyone here deserves such harsh words spoken aloud in a ballroom, for any reason you might have said them."
Her censure wasn't needlessly harsh but clearly stated. If they were dissing someone, they should at least have the courtesy to do it elsewhere.
"Apologies, Miss Bennet," Mr Bingley blurted, "I- My apologies!"
He looked so flustered and horrified at her words that her lips tilted into a small reassuring smile, and her mien turned far more pleasant from the slightly stiff way she had been trying to hold herself together.
"I did not take offence from you, Mr Bingley. But I hope that the company you keep is far more pleasant around your own chosen companions instead," she warned pleasantly with a smile. She curstesy'ed in greeting before turning around and walking away.
She wondered if she should have waited for Mr Darcy to speak, like he looked like he wanted to. But he was still hesitant enough that she could make her escape, and so she did.
She wondered if Mr Bingley understood her warning. Or if Mr Darcy did. Surely, as main characters or even supporting ones, they couldn't possibly be as stupid as the insipid people who Elizabeth had seen thus far.
At least Elizabeth and her had this in common, if they didn't like someone, they didn't even pretend to be pleasant with them. She had no energy for people who were plain annoying.
Mr Darcy though…
She sighed.
For someone who was supposed to be a love interest, he had stood there rather dumbly staring at her after his own harsh remarks were thrown back at him.
But well. Story or not, this…was her life, right?
She had to lead it her way.
Just.
It really was a shame that this story wouldn't go the way it originally had. Maybe she really would be the biggest shame of her family after all.
In this world, if not in the previous one.