Bad Austen (13 page)

“He’s very easy on the eyes,” a perky blonde chirped.

“If you like the conceited type.” Lizzi’s laugh echoed to the corners of the classroom.

“And I hear his parents bought the mansion that had been left to dust on the corner of Main,” said the blonde.

“One thing in his favor, I suppose,” Lizzi replied. “Though even if he had all the money in the world, that would not make up for his lack of manners.”

“What was that, Miss Bennet?” her teacher replied.

“I was just welcoming the fine and honorable Mr. Darcy to Pemberley High,” Lizzi said, standing. “We had the pleasure of meeting earlier today. I am sure with his disposition, he’ll have no trouble making friends.”

Though no one else seemed to notice, Lizzi thought she perceived a slight discoloration in the new student’s cheeks.

“How very kind of you,” her teacher replied. “And since you were the first to show our school’s ‘welcoming spirit,’ I’m sure you’ll have no problem honoring Mr. Darcy by being his lab partner. Kid, go take a seat next to our self-appointed welcoming committee.”

“I’d be honored to be his partner,” the blonde said.

The teacher replied that she already had a perfectly good lab partner.

“Sir,” Lizzi retorted, “you and I had an arrangement regarding partnerships—”

“Yes. Yes, you’re independent and don’t need a partner because it’s ‘demeaning’ to your self-esteem and sense of womanhood,” the teacher replied. “But Mr. Darcy is in want of a lab partner, and as you are, by your own actions, the only student without a partner, there seems to be only one solution to our problems.”

Lizzi shrunk down into her seat as the boy sat next to her.

“I … er … Hi,” he whispered. “This morning—I can explain—you see, some of us are not as endowed—”

“Spare me your excuses,” Lizzi hissed. “Let’s just figure out a way to make it through the semester.”

R
eġency
M
atchmaking

S
TACEY
G
RAHAM

“Welcome, welcome, one and all to Regency Matchmaking! I am your hostess, Mrs. Bennet, the mother of five daughters—three of which have made excellent matches due to my influence—and two whom I will no doubt be finding suitable husbands for this afternoon. Shall we get started?”

Mrs. Bennet snapped the card with her fingers, signaling her daughters Mary and Kitty to be seated. The screen separating the girls from their mother stretched nearly the length of the television studio, masking the girls’ expression of horror at their mother’s interference in their love lives.

“I beseech you to hold, Mrs. Bennet.” Her voice rising from backstage, Caroline Bingley emerged from the shadows while signaling a footman to bring a chair and place it next to kitty. “You may now continue. I fear I am in need of your skills, Madam, though we will never speak of this publicly again.” Adjusting her shawl to cover her bony shoulders, she ignored the young women, staring instead at the smattering of people making up the studio audience.

“Er, yes, of course, Miss Bingley. I’m pleased you are down from London to join us.” Her head rapidly cocking to the side, Mrs. Bennet signaled her husband to block any further female intruders from the stage. Her daughters needed no further competition.

“Our first suitor hails from Northanger Abbey. He’s handsome, clever, and a bit of a charmer. Ladies, please give a Long-bourn welcome to Captain Frederick Tilney.”

A smidgen of polite applause filled the studio as Captain Tilney strode onto the stage, bowing slightly to Mrs. Bennet and throwing a wink to her husband. Scowling at this foolishness, Mr. Bennet returned to his book.

Once Captain Tilney was seated in the Bennets’ best chair, she began. “Sir, am I correct in my information that you are heir to a rather large establishment?”

Miss Bingley defied her perfect posture by leaning slightly forward in her seat to catch his answer. She was not disappointed by the strong timbre of his voice nor his succinct response.

“Yes, Madam. Northanger Abbey will be mine at the passing of the General, though it now stands bereft of a woman’s touch and I will need a wife to manage the estate once I assume rightful ownership.”

“Very good, Captain Tilney. I have no doubt either of my daughters,” a long cough erupting from behind the screen interrupted Mrs. Bennet’s declaration, “and Miss Bingley, of course, would suit you perfectly.”

“Captain Tilney,” Caroline interrupted, “can you tell me more what you are looking for in a wife? I so tire of men wanting only a quick roll in the stables without noticing my excellence in station, my accomplishments, my … FINE EYES.” Irritation scorched her words, the sting of being thrown over for the niece of a man who resides in Cheapside scraped at her pride. The irony of sitting with that woman’s sisters competing for a man was not lost on her, though desperate times called for desperate measures. She was nearly an old maid and would need to secure a husband quite soon.

“As you wish, Madam. I search for a woman of fortune and candor—and one who doesn’t mind a scoundrel.” A smile slid across his face as he heard the ladies draw in a quick breath at his admission of being a rapscallion.

“Finally!” Caroline Bingley sprung from her chair with more vigor than either Kitty or Mary had seen from the older woman. Crossing the barrier, Caroline stood before Tilney. “You had me at ‘large establishment.’”

“I believe we have an understanding, Miss Bingley?”

She nodded, taking in the breadth of his shoulders and the fit of his waistcoat as he stood. He would do nicely; she was certain she could tame his wickedness to become a proper husband. Then again, a bit of a rogue never hurt anyone.

“Well, I have never been so affronted! And in my own studio, too!” Mrs. Bennet was flustered. Her plans for the afternoon partially ruined by the upstart, Miss Bingley, she ushered the new couple quickly offstage, then returned to her station.

“Kitty! Mary! Sit still, girls. We have another gentleman of good breeding. May I introduce Mr. Willoughby of Combe Magna….”

T
hrough
K
itties’
E
yes

M
ARGARET
K. G
ATES

“Megan, I think Alfred has noticed me,” said Rosanne. “We passed twice in the halls today, and he smiled both times.”

“I saw him staring at you from across the cafeteria,” said her sister.

The two cats sitting at the opposite end of the parlor stood up. Cinnamon, the black-and-white one, spoke. “Which girl do you choose, Orchid?”

The yellow cat licked her paw as she pondered the matter, then said, “Rosanne’s wearing black, and Megan has light blue slacks. I’ll shed my fur on Rosanne, and your black fur will stand out against Megan’s blue clothing.”

“Great choice. Let’s go.”

The cats sauntered to the sofa and settled in the girls’ laps. “Alfred dumped Susie last week.” Rosanne stroked Orchid’s back as she spoke.

Orchid interpreted the words to Cinnamon. “Sir Alfred has realized Susie’s unworthiness and wonders how he could have overlooked the charms of Lady Rosanne who is obviously an elegant female.”

“He’d be a good catch; he’s the star basketball player,” said Megan.

Cinnamon responded, “He’s also tall, of comely appearance, and his family has an abundance of shekels. I could continue this panegyric.”

“His sister spoke to me after class today; she never had before.”

“Sir Alfred commissioned a spy to scrutinize Lady Rosanne’s personality.”

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t repeat to anyone what you thought of her new hairstyle?”

“How fortunate that your unparalleled elegance precluded a repetition of your communication to me describing the rat’s nest on Sir Alfred’s sister’s head.” Cinnamon rubbed a paw against her own head for emphasis.

“I plan to compliment her to her best friend,” said Rosanne. “She’s a nice enough girl, really.”

“A well-spoken word of approbation will reach her brother’s ears and endear me to him.”

“Maybe he’ll ask you to the school dance next week.” Cinnamon continued to mimic Megan’s words. “A ball is an inimitable location in which to secure a gentleman’s affections. Consider Cinderella.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be cool! I’m the best dancer in my grade.”

“Oh, what delight, what felicity!” Orchid rolled onto her back, pointed her paws toward the four corners of the parlor, and sighed.

“Yes, humans are ridiculous,” said Cinnamon, “but they feed us and provide a warm home safe from dogs. And how their follies amuse us.”

Rosanne spoke again. “But what if he asks Carolyn instead? She’s had her eye on Alfred for a month. I’d be sick if she got him.”

“But what despair would flood my soul should Sir Alfred deign to favor the base Carolyn with his attentions. She must be totally profligate to try to steal him from me.”

“Such a thought turns my stomach,” said her sister. “I never did like her.”

“If she purloins him away, I’ll have an enjoyment of original dislikes. But Orchid, let’s beat it before our fervid emotion constrains us to swoon alternately on the sofa.”