Guest Post: A Most Proper Pair of Gloves by Drama Queen

When my beautiful mother said that she had gotten me a new pair of riding gloves, I was a little confused.  The last time I rode a horse was when I was sixteen!  I'm not exactly a noble lady from the 1800s whose wardrobe simply must include such an accessory.

Apparently my ears might be from the 1800s, though, because she wasn't saying riding gloves, but writing gloves.  Now those sound like a necessary accessory! The gloves she got were from Literary Book Gifts and they are totally lovely!  They are a beautiful plum color and because they are cashmere, they are so, so soft.  They keep my hands nice and warm, and most importantly, make me feel super fancy and artistic.  I have had to start hiding them in my purse as my best friend would like to steal them away for herself! Also, least you think I may be using these gloves only as YouTube gloves, I wanted to share a piece of actual Drama Queen writing with you.  

 

This is an excerpt from my side project "Prejudice and Pride" which is a gender-reversed retelling of the Jane Austen classic.  I hope you enjoy it!  

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The billiards room was an excellent room in many ways: it did have deep couches suited for lounging, a well-stocked liquor cabinet, and several shelves of novels that had not been considered distinguished enough to be housed in the library. It lacked a card table, however, and so a rather put-out Mr. Hust immediately claimed the furthest couch for napping.  Miss Darcy selected a novel and Carl Bingley was quick to claim a second volume by the same author, but it was quite clear that he was much more interested in trying, once again, to draw his houseguest into conversation. Elias guiltily enjoyed watching the one-sided dance between them. It reminded him of how Lysander’s calico would ignore the tomcat from the barn, no matter how he yowled.  Eventually, however, Elias had to acknowledge to himself that as entertaining as the interplay might be, there was a vast danger in likening a lady and fellow gentlemen to a pair of farm animals and it was not the Christian thing to do. He forced his gaze to turn back to his law book. A sudden snapping shut of Mr. Bingley’s rashly chosen novel cut the companionable quiet of the room, even breaking through the whispered conversation of Miss Charlotte and Jonas.  “It is a dueced shame to sit in a billiards room and not play billiards,” Carl Bingley declared. Rising, he waved peremptorily at Elias. “Bennet. Join me.”

“I will.  It sounds refreshing,” Elias agreed easily, finding it no hardship to set aside his chosen task.  He rose, and as he did, so did the eyes of Miss Darcy. Their gaze of a startlingly amber-toned hazel was precisely the attention Carl Bingley had been hoping to draw, and so he did not hesitate then to extend the unusual invitation of having the young lady join them at the sport.  

“Miss Darcy, we need not stand on ceremony here among friends.  I see your own attention to Proust has wavered. Come, join in our game.”  

Miss Darcy’s chin rose slightly higher.  “I shall not. There are only two boons you could hope to gain from such an invitation, Bingley, and I am determined to provide you with neither.”

“Miss Darcy suspects you to have an ulterior motive in your invitations,” Elias observed even as he selected a cue from the wall.  “Have I made my own error in accepting you, Bingley? Pray, explain what terrible contract I have undertaken by agreeing to knock about the balls?”  

“I swear total innocence,” Bingley protested as he lined up the two ivory cue balls for the first strike.  “Miss Darcy, you are honor bound to explain yourself or I shall count it as calumny.” 

Miss Darcy watched the progress of the first shot, which Bingley won, and then explained.  “Inviting a lady to join in a sport meant for only two players at once can have but two logical purposes.  Either the first is that you mean to prove to yourself your own perceived superiority by explaining the rules to me as though I were a child. In that case, I have no desire to play the feather-brain to enhance your ego.”

“A wicked accusation,” Elias laughed as he watched Bingley scowl at the table as his cue ball just missed striking the red object ball into the pocket.  “Surely we can’t think so poorly of Bingley’s intentions. What would be the second reason, Miss Darcy?”

“The other possibility is that Mr. Bingley is quite aware that the demands of billiards show off the fitness of the male form in distinct ways that riding and dancing do not.  If your object is to show me the breadth of your shoulders or the strength of your calf, I promise you that should I wish to be so immodest, I could observe such posturing of you both from my current seat sufficiently.”  

Her declaration startled a bright laugh from Elias, Bingley, however, seemed embarrassed, or perhaps angry.  His next strike sent the cue ball careening violently around the table, and though he gained two points for striking Elias’s cue ball, his own then hit the side rail and flew over the edge: losing the points and turning play over to Elias.  Bingley turned to face Miss Darcy, leaving Elias to chase down the errant ball. “There are times, Miss Darcy, when I think that maybe you do not respect the niceties of society as you should. You hold everyone else to an impossible standard of etiquette, but yourself you allow to speak harshly; it is unbecoming of a young lady.”

Elias raised an eyebrow, but could not find a place to object.  In the past week, he had come to realize that Miss Darcy was as strict to decorum within her home as she had been at any of the Meryton assemblies.  She was consistent, yes, yet her words of condescension and stricture often crossed the lines towards hypocrisy. 

“I take care to speak with honesty, Mr. Bingley,” Winnifred Darcy said icily, her hazel eyes sparking with an inward fire.  “Always honesty, even if it is uncomfortable for the listener’s ear. I will not parse my words for you nor any man. I do not pretend to be more than I am, nor will I suffer others to be so.  If you are attempting to trick or manipulate me, I must be forearmed. I know that a woman’s good reputation, once lost is lost forever. I will not endanger my name for the sake of a man’s self-pride.”  

“A woman’s reputation is not wholly centered on her virtue,” Bingley drawled.  “Perhaps you should concern yourself a good deal more with other ways in which you are perceived, Miss Darcy.  Why not ask Elias what the reputation of Miss Winnifred Darcy is here in Longebourne? You might find yourself persuaded to be more obliging in manners.”  

Elias was speared by the frigid glare of Miss Darcy’s eyes.  There was no escaping the uncomfortable situation and after Miss Darcy demanded frostily that he speak without hesitation, he set down his cue and spoke the truth as gently as a lady deserved.  “Many in our neighborhood find you cold and unwelcoming. They feel that you believe yourself above every member of our society and question the validity of your pride, believing it to be unfounded vanity.”  

Winnifred Darcy’s gaze did not waver but for a moment he saw the ice within her crack.  “Does the opinion of the neighborhood extend to how I may alter such a frigid perception?”

“Perhaps if you spoke with others more.  Allowed a gentleman or two to claim a dance at the next assembly.  It is a forgiving group. They will gladly welcome you in if you gave them the opportunity to do so.”  

“I see.”  Miss Darcy got to her feet and curtseyed to them both, Carl Bingley’s bow in response was the sharpest nod of the head Elias had ever witnessed.    “I believe I shall retire for the night. Louisa, you must stay with Charlotte that she can enjoy her chosen company for somewhat longer.” Miss Darcy then departed the room, pausing only to press a kiss to the top of Charlotte’s hair in a quiet farewell.  Jonas from the corner frowned in concern, sharing a look with Elias. Elias could not quite meet his brother’s gaze in return, already the guilt of having failed to rise to a lady’s defense was eating at him. Elias Bennet did not care for Winnifred Darcy, but that did not mean he relished seeing the hurt that had shown so briefly in a pair of hazel eyes.  

***We received this free pair of gloves in exchange for our honest and open review.***