Lost in What?

Chapter Six:

Stella stared up at the immaculate estate. Her eyes were awake with the lights and glistening groups swarming the atrium of Mr Bingley's lavish home. Ears death to the gossip of the girls with which she shared the carriage, Stella gawped inelegantly as the promise of the world within those double doors arose. They had arrived completely.

The horse of their carriage sneezed, biting at the tethers of it's chains. The beast stomped it's feet, as a servant of Bingley approached the coach door. Amanda grasped her sister's hands in her own. Stella grimaced at the steel grip that kept her from breaching the darkness of the coach before the Bennet family. Mrs Bennet was first.

"Is this not fantastical?" Lydia exclaimed with a large smile. She laughed loudly, as Jane gasped at the sight of the richness the facet of Mr Bingley's establishment exuded.

"Indeed," Amanda wistfully confessed without thought, as she stepped out from the confines of the carriage. Stella huffed indignantly, as her sister stepped atop her toes and out of the contraption.

Agitated already, Stella ignored the gentleman's offered hand and stepped down from the carriage without aid. The servant staggered away uncertainly. He followed his fellows to a coach that halted behind that of the Bennet's.

Amanda politely wrapped her arm around her sister's with a small smile. However, as they approached the entryway Stella heard the tense tone in Amanda's whisper. She hissed, "Remember, Stella, to behave."

Stella sighed heavily, eyes lifting away from her sister to gaze at the men. Licking her lips, Stella obliged with a fabricated grin. "Of course dearest sister of mine," She turned to Amanda and began to remove her coat, "I understand fully." Handing her coat over to a quiet servant, Stella finished solemnly, "I will not seek to have any real fun tonight - I promise."

Stella steadfastly scouted the scores of men further within and mustered meanly, "There seems to be no one of true interest here anyway." As Amanda moved away with Jane, Stella murmured miserably, "Except for the host."

Thus, somewhere, he dwelled. He shined, as Jane seemed to. Stella found the others of the party rather dim in comparison despite their glowing gowns and finely coloured clothes. Many men watched the Bennet girls enter and lingered about their bodies as pigeons would pastry crumbs in twenty-first century London. Stella meandered through the beings, wandering.

The brisk voice of Mrs Bennet, harsh tone of Amanda and the soft speech of Jane and the others dissipated, as Stella was swallowed by the crowd. The chattering deafened all ears to the tapping of her shoes. Stella sucked in a deep breath, as the star she had hastily become enamoured with shined before her. He arose from the other side of the world. Striding confidently, effortlessly, he beamed brightly bathed in candlelight.

"Good gracious Miss Price," He gasped, "Your dress is most spectacular." Mr Bingley kindly smiled and Stella's grin waned at the honesty in his eyes.

"You are too wonderful." she erupted, eyes stinging. Stella did not feel spectacular, she felt less than ordinary. Her hair was strung high and stressed, frizzing. Eyes sore from the coal Lydia used as a liner, Stella had rubbed the black soot into the crevasses of her young laugh lines.

"I dare say," Mr Bingley strongly fought, doe blue eyes swiftly overlooking her worried visage, "Miss Price you walk in golden trim and purity laced finely to your figure." He coughed slightly, as the wide inappropriateness of his exclamation became apparent to him in afterthought. He said more quietly, looking at those about them skittishly, "I would not be surprised should you lift up in flight and leave us commoners below on this Earth."

"Certainly there is no other word for you other than wonderful." Stella struggled.

Her lips stuttered, voice failing her.

Mr Bingley stammered. A woman very much like him, upon first glance, approached the awkward pair.

"Charles, you are not keeping new friends from us are you?" She assertively jabbed.

Stella physically shrank backward and the lady's smile widened with smugness.

"Gosh no," Mr Bingley shouted out. A rather elderly gentleman, tethered in gold and green covered his ears and glowered at his host. He and those crowding him with 'business talk' tottered away toward a long table that was overflowing with food and drink. Mr Bingley, cheeks blazing, retorted to the woman, "I was merely biding time before the two of you could chase her away." He turned, gesturing Stella closer as one would a strange cat. "This is one of my new friends, a neighbour, Stella Price." Smile softening, as he looked down at her, Mr Bingley crooned to Stella, "This is my dearest sister, Caroline, and best friend-"

"Mr Darcy," the shrouded shadow standing absolute behind Caroline briskly announced. Stella shivered, as his deep voice bombed her ears. As he stared at her from over Caroline's shoulder, Stella's polite smile became tighter. She sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly to ease the headache his very presence induced. He opened his mouth again and Stella cringed. Mr Darcy suavely said, "I do believe Miss Bingley would also in turn prefer you to address her as such as well."

Left eyebrow elegantly rising, Stella's gaze swerved from Darcy's black coals to Caroline's rich emeralds. Stella curtly replied with a clipped tone, "I am certain she would."

Mr Bingley tilted his weight to one side, cutting through the stare between Stella and Caroline. He smiled timidly, asking, "Where perhaps are the others of your party Miss Price?"

A broad grin grew upon Stella's visage, as she replied, "I have no idea. I arrived with them naught but a few moments ago, yet have not seen them since entering."

Dark eyebrow rising high, Mr Darcy leaned round his best friend to gaze at Stella. "Surely they are not far then, point them out."

Smile dissipating, Stella gnawed on her bottom lip. Her shoulders sank down a bit, spine hunching forward. She swiftly looked round, turned and was abruptly bumped away from Mr Bingley. Stella swallowed her cry of alarm, as she was pushed into Caroline who tittered enough for both of them.

"Goodness Miss Price," A grating voice exclaimed, "You should learn to be more careful." Mrs Bennet contently sneered at Stella, as she proclaimed, "You should retire to your sister's side for evening I think."

Stella gently pulled herself from Caroline's wide eyed figure and huffed. Straightening her dress, she jolted away from the group. Stella immediately sought a waiter with champagne flutes. There was five dotted round the room and she chose to squat by one of the excessively sized fireplaces nearby red-coated soldiers. From beside those occupied soldiers Stella had a clear view of the group she had vacated over the shoulder of a stout portly bearded man. Mr Bingley nodded to whatever Mrs Bennet was saying, whilst eyeing Amanda's deep shaded hair. Mr Darcy turned slightly to stare at Stella's pouting figure across the room before meandering away from the group. He gladly joined a clan of elder men that were engrossed in what looked to be talk of the economic condition of London. Stella could overhear words like "Prosperity" and "Social class". Her nose scrunched up with disgust, as one told a particularly insulting joke about the working class. They all laughed, though Mr Darcy stood erect and solemn. Staring at him, Stella would have doubted he actually had any personality at all if it were not for their prior introduction.

"Dance with me!"

Stella jumped. The flute of champagne in her hand tipped. The spillage sprawled along the flooring and a passing couple slid slightly with startled expressions.

"Lydia," Stella exclaimed, "Was shouting really necessary?"

Lydia beamed at Stella, snatching the glass from her grasp and placing on the mantel piece of the fireplace. "How else was I to get your attention," Lydia looked round and peered at Mr Bingley with a sly smile, "You were clearly away with the fairies my friend."

Coughing, cheeks blazing, Stella tugged on Lydia's dress sleeves. She expressed desperately, "Come along then – if you must insist on dancing."

Raising an eyebrow, Lydia retorted indignantly, "Well this is a party." As she took the lead and pulled Stella to the center of the room, Lydia remarked, "besides, how else are we to partner you with Mr Bingley."

Stella gasped, tugging herself away from Lydia's grasp. "No!" She almost hollered, "Lydia I told Amanda I would not go there. As much as I dislike that, I made a promise."

Smile dissipating, Lydia frowned, sullenly speaking, "Very well then, but that does not mean you cannot enjoy a dance or two."

"True," Stella softly replied, "Now how do we do this?"

Smiling, Lydia simply pulled away.

Stella stared, confused, until a hand seemed to float from her right side. The palm lifted up under her nose, as a man only slightly taller than her followed.

"I do believe a partner is required Miss…"

"Miss Price." Stella said, taking a moment to allow his presence to soak in. He had been stood beside her by the fire with the other soldiers. Though she was not particularly warm with him, he still retained a polite smile as the music began. Stella's eyes strayed to their feet, trying to keep up and predict the next step. This was no simple waltz. The young man stridently grasped her chin and clasped her eyes with a smouldering stare. Stella had gasped at the bold touch, but found her throat clogging with anxiety as their eyes interlocked. He was no doubt charming and in another time and place, where disco lights flared and smoke rose about them, she would likely have given him her phone number. This place was not that time though. As the music fell away from their ears and the musicians moved on, the pair pulled away from one another. He complemented her dancing, yet used words that seemed awkward from his pink lips. The sentences sewed together, insinuating that she was not principally experienced in the art. As he walked away to re-join his fellow men Stella indignantly snorted, staring after him. He walked like Mr Darcy a little bit and she tilted her head to the side. Yes, both walked very much like peacocks: overly prideful.

Shaking her head, Stella headed back toward the atrium to find her sister. Instead, Jane seemed to step from between the immense pack of bodies. She milled beside Mary, overlooking Kitty who had surrounded herself with three men and a woman. As Stella joined the pair, Mary spoke up, "Kitty is very persistent to know of London." Pushing her spectacles up her nose, Mary looked up to Jane, querying, "Do you think she will venture there upon marrying?"

Jane sighed, laughing lightly, "I dare say Kitty would insist upon it despite whoever her husband will be."

Mary hummed in agreement. Silently watching Kitty, they drink from dainty glasses. Stella rolled her eyes, as Mary sported an unimpressed expression toward Kitty's behaviour. Kitty leaned toward one of the young gentlemen, laughing loudly at something he had said.

As her gaze wandered, Stella caught side of Mr Bingley. He was almost skipping across the floor. Amanda stood a long way off, heaving heavy breaths. Stella frowned, following. As she approached them, Stella overheard Amanda speak that name: Mr Darcy.

The man in question, having been stood directly behind Amanda, turned round and eased his face into an expression void of feeling. Stella reached round Mr Bingley, startling him, and tried to grab Amanda's arm. Mr Darcy walked Amanda away. Hastily, Stella grasped Mr Bingley's arm. She demanded, "What is happening?"

Mr Bingley gladly declared that he had asked Amanda to dance, but Mr Darcy had apparently asked beforehand. Stella watched the broody pair with horror and morbid curiosity. Amanda was fairly clumsy with the timing of her steps. Seeming to think for a moment, Mr Bingley turned to face Stella completely. Softly smiling down at her, he held out his hand and asked quite suavely if she would like to dance.

Stella glowered, "I am not a second choice."

She walked away.

Seeking Jane's company, Stella sadly came across Mrs Bennet. Or Mrs Bennet somewhat dragged Stella to her side. The woman had a strong grip, nails biting into Stella's right wrist. She winced, as the mad mother grunted and ranted about the inappropriateness of her presence and the offense Amanda's dancing was likely causing others. As she peered round the pillar Mrs Bennet had dragged her behind, Stella could not help mentally agreeing that Amanda's dancing required practice. However, she tore her arm away from the crazed woman and verbally certified that had every right to be present as any other guest. Mrs Bennet guffawed.

Frustrated, Stella huffed and vacated Mrs Bennet's company. She crossed to the atrium and was outside the front doors at a hastened pace. Her shoes struggled on the gravelled path, but she persevered and hopping up onto stone slabs at the side of the building. Stella slowly tiptoed round the edge of the property. Her eyes were focused on the small shelters ahead where there was a side door that likely lead directly to the ballroom.

As she approached, a flame erupted from the darkness. Stella slowed to a complete stop. She stared before her, mouth opening wide with disbelief, as she watched. From the dark two shrouded spectres latched on to one another. They clung together, as Rose did to Jack on the Titanic and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness Stella's hand came up to quieten her abashed cry.

Amanda was essentially snogging Bingley.

A fire brewed in the pit of her gut and worked its way up her intestines. Her stomach roared with distaste and what felt like vomit bubbled up her throat. Stella backed away from the site and hurried back to the front entrance.

Amanda had said not to intrude on the character's lives – not to get involved with them in such a romantic way and yet! Yet there, in that secret place they had stood and gotten off.

Fists clenching, Stella felt the disgust and outright fury erupt from between her red painted lips. The heatedly astonished frustration flew out of her mouth and over the grounds. The servants stood at the entrance were greatly disturbed. They all turned to stare, some whispering to one another. Stella ignored their gossip, shaking her head viciously. Her hair pulled away from its confines. She pulled the wayward strands away from her face and tried to shove the tangles back into place, but like her life her hair was in shambles. An abrupt cry escaped her and Stella slapped her hands over her watery eyes.

The unfairness sank in and Stella removed her hands from her face. She stared up at the star-stocked sky. She wanted a 'happy ending' too. Amanda was clearly an exception to the rules that weighed on Stella's shoulders, but that was not reasonable. No. Stella nodded, turning briskly to re-enter the party. She would write her own happy ending. To spite her sister; Stella would make Mr Bingley her Prince Charming.