Title: Under the Influence
Rating: M – for sexual situations just this side of explicit.
Disclaimer: Though I write stories based on the novels and characters of Jane Austen, this work belongs to ME and no one else. Unless given express permission, no one besides myself has the right to distribute or profit from my intellectual property. All rights reserved.
Setting: Regency

Summary: A disagreement with Mr Darcy on the dance floor at the Netherfield Ball has Elizabeth spiraling; could she have misjudged him and taken the word of a scoundrel? Too much spiked punch and an equally soused would-be suitor bring on a myriad of consequences. (Not explicit, but not clean, either.)

"I can readily believe...that report may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."

– Mr Darcy, Pride & Prejudice, Volume I, Chapter 18

Chapter One: No Credit on Either

Elizabeth

Tuesday November 26, 1811

After attempting various conversational openings with Mr Darcy during the dance she had not been able to excuse herself from, Elizabeth heaved a great breath of frustration. If he preferred to be silent, why not continue prowling around the room glaring at everyone instead of inflicting his presence upon unlucky her? Was he finding some amusement in torturing her with his company? It was the only reasonable explanation she could think of.

She was tempted to remain silent, but it occurred to her that it might be more punishment for him to speak than not. Feeling impish, Elizabeth tried one more topic that was sure to stir her partner into saying something in return. "When you met us the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."

As Elizabeth had expected, the effect was immediate. Though he clearly resisted saying anything in response, his jaw clenching so tight that she feared for the state of his teeth, the deeper shade of hauteur overspreading his features could not be ignored. At length Mr Darcy spoke, saying, "Mr Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends – whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."

"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," Elizabeth countered, her own ire beginning to rise in defense of her absent friend, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."

Mr Darcy had nothing to say to that. Though what his justification could possibly be, Elizabeth could not fathom. There was no exonerating explanation for the malfeasance he had visited upon poor Mr Wickham.

From the edge of the dance floor, Elizabeth spotted Sir William Lucas coming toward them with his genial smile spread wide. Surely he did not mean to interrupt them in the middle of a set! 'But that would be just like him,' Elizabeth thought with equal amounts of wryness and indulgence.

Unfortunately for Sir William, yet a boon for all the dancers going down the line in swirls of lace and silk, he was waylaid by the only other man in the room capable of speaking longer on a topic than himself. Mr Collins emerged from the crowd and stopped Sir William to have a word – or fifty – with him about something or other that wasn't audible to Elizabeth, yet would presumably lead back to venerating his patroness. Her neighbor would then expound on his knighthood and experiences at St James' and the two would go back and forth without any reference to whatever the other was saying. Elizabeth could imagine it all with great amusement.

The dance ended with a smattering of polite applause from the participants for the musicians. Ladies were led from the floor by their partners and returned to their families, some offered punch or lemonade for refreshment, and the whole room chattered with good natured conversation. Only dour Mr Darcy refused to be merry.

As they approached the sofa upon which Mrs Bennet chatted with Lady Lucas, Elizabeth made one more impetuous attempt at getting Mr Darcy to speak on the matter of his former friend. "I remember hearing you once say, Mr Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeaseable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to it's being created."

"I am."

"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"

"I hope not."

"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first," admonished Elizabeth with a pert smile.

Mr Darcy, ever stoic and serious, persisted in that attitude, though Elizabeth thought there might be a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "May I ask to what these questions tend?" he queried, stopping them just out of the hearing range of the matrons on the sofa ahead of them. Mrs Bennet hadn't even noticed their approach and continued gesticulating wildly about something to Lady Lucas. Elizabeth could just make out the words "Bingley," "Jane" and "five thousand a year."

Elizabeth, as much to distract Mr Darcy from the vulgar conversation going on around him as to appease her own curiosity, replied, "Merely to the illustration of your character. I am trying to make it out."

Mr Darcy retained ownership of her hand upon his arm, placing his gloved palm atop her fingers to hold it in place. "And what is your success?"

She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."

Mr Darcy took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he directed his gaze to hers and she was caught by how stormy the gray irises appeared. "It might behoove you to consider the motives of a man who would so easily, and without provocation, slander another to a stranger. I have told you before that I have faults enough, Miss Bennet, yet speaking ill of old acquaintances who were once friends has never been one of them. I know not what Mr Wickham has told you, though I can guess, but I would ask that you refrain from sketching my character upon his word alone."

Elizabeth blinked, startled at his eloquent reprimand. She had never heard him speak so many words together before and could think of nothing suitable to say in response.

Mr Darcy, struggling with some emotion he would not reveal, bowed over her captured hand and bid her a good evening before leaving her in that same spot. His back weaved through the crush toward the exit of the ballroom and he was gone from her sight within seconds. Elizabeth stayed rooted to the floor for some time longer until one of her sisters called for attention.

o0o

After participating in two more dances, Elizabeth was as parched as she was troubled by her confrontation with Mr Darcy. She had not seen him again after his departure from her presence and she presumed that he had taken himself off to bed. Why subject himself to the dancing savages after also being roundly insulted by an impertinent country miss?

Elizabeth approached the refreshment table with Jane, whose previous partner had already gone to collect his next, and she dipped up a cup of punch for each of them. Struggling a little for her usual pertness, the younger sister appealed to the elder, "And what have you learned of Mr Wickham? Or have you been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person? If that be the case, you may be sure of my pardon."

"No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten him, but I have nothing satisfactory to tell you. Mr Bingley does not know the whole of his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have principally offended Mr Darcy, but he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity and honor of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that Mr Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr Darcy than he has received; and I am sorry to say by his account, as well as his sister's, Mr Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr Darcy's regard."

Elizabeth, who only earlier that evening would have been tempted to counter this recitation with conjectures about Mr Bingley not knowing Mr Wickham personally or his sister being prejudiced against him for his origins, held back from responding as Mr Darcy's earlier scolding rang in her ears. How could she accuse those that might argue in favor of Mr Darcy when she, herself, was lacking all the facts in the case? She had Mr Wickham's word, but nothing else to exonerate him with.

"Lizzy?"

Elizabeth smiled at Jane as she broke from her musings and then took a sip of punch to delay her inevitable answer, which she had yet to form. It tasted a little strong, perhaps, but was quite delicious. "I honestly do not know what to think, Jane. Mr Wickham was so charming and open, but now I wonder at the propriety of his having such a conversation with me at all. We had not known each other more than a few hours and he told me something very personal regarding himself and others who, in hindsight, were not there to defend themselves. Does this make his entire story suspect?"

Jane set down her punch beside the communal bowl and touched her sister's shoulder with consoling gentleness; Elizabeth cupped her own glass between her palms and continued to sip at its contents. "I do not think it so wrong to believe another, particularly when one seems to be everything amiable and good, but perhaps it is...imprudent to accept such assertions on so short an acquaintance. Though I like to believe the best of people, and feel that I am correct to trust more often than not, it behooves us all to give very careful thought before pronouncing judgment on any of our neighbors."

"That sounds like Mary!" Elizabeth said, laughing. It wasn't funny, not really, but it was odd to hear one of Mary's pompous, moralistic statements issued in the sweet, understanding tones of dear Jane. Both meant well, but only the eldest Bennet sister had truly mastered the concept of Christian compassion and forgiveness; the middle one still required more life experience to differentiate between the truly evil and the more commonplace imperfections of mankind. To hear such a thing from Jane gave the admonishment more consequence.

Jane giggled a little herself, a response fairly required by the truth of Elizabeth's exclamation. "That's because it was she who originally said it."

"I find it amusing how something Mary says can sound so much more sensible coming from you, Jane," Elizabeth teased.

"Oh, Lizzy...," Jane replied, a hint of admonition in her tone. "Mary can be sensible, only she says things in such a way..."

"And that is why it sounds more sensible coming from you," said Elizabeth. "Mary often has thoughts that would benefit from sounding less pedantic and judgmental. And her timing is often...unfortunate."

Jane could not deny that and so simply shook her head.

"In any case," Elizabeth said, bringing them back round to the subject of Mr Wickham, "I find myself...confused over what to believe. Why should Mr Wickham lie? What purpose does it serve to blacken Mr Darcy's name to strangers?"

Jane, who was more incapable of deception than anyone Elizabeth had ever met, did not have an answer. Someone as good as the angelic Jane could not fathom the motives behind immoral actions. "It is difficult, indeed – it is distressing. One does not know what to think."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement and swirled the liquid around in her glass. "Before tonight, I would have disagreed with you there. I would have much more easily believed in the possibility of Mr Bingley's being imposed upon than that Mr Wickham could have invented such a history. He gave me names, facts, everything mentioned without ceremony...there was truth in all his looks. However, I must admit that I doubt his narrative in retrospect, considering how unprovoked his attack upon Mr Darcy's reputation was. Even had Mr Darcy behaved badly in respect to Mr Wickham's prospects, it was very wrong to air his grievances in such away to one whom he has only known for such a short time."

There was a long pause between the sisters as they both considered this. Elizabeth could not speak for Jane, but she was greatly disturbed by the conflict inherent in possibly believing in one man whom she had long disliked while doubting the word of another who had been, by all appearances, friendly and trustworthy. Elizabeth had always believed in the power of first impressions, but were her powers of intuitive discernment flawed? Was it fair to judge anyone based on such short acquaintances?

At length, "Perhaps there has been some sort of mistake," Jane suggested hopefully, "and both Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham are the victims of misunderstanding or an accident." When Elizabeth laughed at this, Jane persisted, "It is possible, Lizzy!"

"I am sorry, Jane, I should not laugh," replied Elizabeth, an affectionate smile forming on her face and relaxing the tension of her previous frown. "And I shall cease distressing you over this matter forthwith. There are far more pleasant things to think about at a ball, after all. Is your dance card full yet?"

The two sisters chatted together and indulged in their beverages until the next set began, at which point Jane's next partner, Samuel Lucas, came to collect her for their dance. "Are you not dancing, Lizzy?" asked the elder Miss Bennet before departing.

"No, I think I require a rest and some fortification. I have a partner for the next and shall see you at dinner," Elizabeth promised as Jane was led away.

Elizabeth drained her cup and dipped up another glass full. She drifted away from the refreshment table and wandered amongst the crowd, occasionally greeting someone or giving out a teasing remark, mostly lost in her own musings. Mr Collins, thankfully, was dancing with Charlotte, and causing as much havoc as possible for a single man with his clumsy steps and ill-placed apologies. Elizabeth pitied her friend for being caught up in such a humiliating spectacle, but was grateful for the reprieve from Mr Collins' incessant attentions.

The case of Mr Wickham puzzled her exceedingly. She had first been inclined to dismiss Mr Darcy's admonition as judgmental, much as his behavior toward her had always been, but it had been far too reasonable to discount. As friendly and charming as the new lieutenant had been, approaching her only hours after being introduced to relate such private, personal information was unusual at best and entirely inappropriate in reality. Why should he feel it necessary to blacken Mr Darcy's name to one who had already declared a dislike of the gentleman in question? Had she proclaimed to enjoy his company, some rationale might be made that he had been trying to warn her of his old friend's darker nature, but she had stated the opposite. Wishing to commiserate with another who had also been wronged by the same man might satisfy as an explanation, if not an excuse, but then the communication would still be wrong to share with strangers.

Elizabeth then remembered Mr Wickham's vow, which she had considered evidence of his better nature at the time, to never speak out against the son in honor of the father's memory. As far as she knew, she was his only confidante in the matter of his disappointments, but then he could hardly know that she was trustworthy upon meeting her. What if Elizabeth had been inclined to spread rumors? Or...had that been his intention? Had Mr Wickham deliberately told his tale of woe in hopes of it being spread amongst the community? Had that not been his aim, even telling only Elizabeth of Mr Darcy's supposed misdeeds would be a violation upon the prohibition of not speaking out against the gentleman.

As Elizabeth raised her cup of punch to her lips for a sip, another realization hit her quite forcefully. If Mr Wickham couldn't be sure of her trustworthiness upon introduction, how could she be assured of his? Aside from his amiable manners, which spoke of a sensitive and downtrodden gentleman, what did she truly know of him that he hadn't told her himself?

Nothing.

Elizabeth was quite disturbed by her own foolishness. Kitty and Lydia were generally more prone to these types of mistakes, not she! She, who prided herself on her discernment and who had reminded Mr Darcy only an hour or two ago to be wary of judging improperly based on first impressions. He had certainly proven himself to be rude and offensive, but had he shown himself to be otherwise unchristian or unprincipled? Mr Bingley declared him to be the best of men, Jane had tried to point out the possibility of his goodness and Mr Bennet had warned her not to assign every evil to him simply because she had heard an uncharitable story about him. Even Mary, as Elizabeth had been reminded by Jane, had admonished her for "pronouncing judgment" upon him! Were they all correct? Or was her opinion of Mr Darcy, founded in prejudice over his slighting comments on her beauty, the truth? Mr Wickham's tale should be henceforth discounted as its veracity was now in question, but what of her own observations?

Unfortunately, she had little clarification there.

"Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth turned her head to observe Henry Golding rising from his bow with his hand raised for her to accept. After gulping the last of her punch and setting the cup on a conveniently located end table, she forced a smile and placed her gloved palm upon his. Mr Golding then led her to the dance floor and a dizzying set began.

Author's Note: I actually started this story before my others, but abandoned it temporarily when the muse took me elsewhere. This will be relatively short, only ten chapters and an epilogue, but it still begs to be written.

Speaking of short, this one and the next are comparatively so, but future chapters beginning with #3 are all rather lengthy. This one probably COULD be longer, but I feel like to make it any lengthier would weigh it down with angst and make it less enjoyable. Introspection should be taken in small doses. Also, I'm straying uncomfortably close to repetition (if I haven't done so already).

Bi-weekly updates every other Friday. Other stories will be updated in between, such as "Welcome Home," my Christmas fic which will begin on December 8. Possibly more as well...stay tuned!

Next Update: October 18, 2019
Expected Completion Date: February 21, 2020

– Mrs Mary Smythe