Of Every Elizabeth

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy had met many Elizabeths in his twenty-eight years on earth. It seemed to him that nearly a quarter of the women in England claimed that Christian name and there were many who stood out in his memory: First, he met Old Elizabeth, his elderly nursemaid. He called her “Bet” until he grew old enough to pronounce her name. He cried when she died. Second, he met Aunt Elizabeth, his father’s sister. He called her “Auntie Bet” when he was small, and even when he achieved better, she did not let him alter her title. He greatly preferred his visits to her home to those to Aunt Catherine, who demanded that his mother teach him to properly pronounce “th” before he was next allowed into her presence. Third, he met Dear Elizabeth, his maternal cousin, who was a valued playmate and confidant until they grew older and their relationship necessarily cooled into something more mature and less warm. He now called her Lady Marington, or cousin Eliza. Fourth, he met Dearest Elizabeth, though he never called her this to her face. She was his mother’s nurse and companion. Her kindness during Lady Anne’s last days earned her the title a thousand times over. Out loud, he called her Mrs. Ashbee. Fifth, he met Lovely Elizabeth (though only in his private thoughts), the first woman he thought he loved. This only lasted until he talked to her and she proved to be vain, mercenary, and rather dull. From then on, he only thought of her as the Honourable Miss Vernon. Sixth, he met The Three Elizabeths, who were all introduced to him one after another at a ball. They were cousins and close friends. They talked almost exclusively to each other through the entire set. Though he danced with all three of them in a row, he learned nothing material about them. Seventh, he met Loveliest Elizabeth (though again, only in his thoughts). She was the second woman he thought he loved. It was a very short admiration. This was when he learned not to fall in love with a woman until he had spoken to her for at least half an hour together. She was now only Miss Otway. Eighth, he met Dear Little Eliza, Dear Elizabeth’s daughter. He said very honestly that she was the most beautiful Elizabeth in his acquaintance. Georgiana held Dear Little Eliza for almost an hour and was loath to surrender her back to her mother. Ninth, he met Old Bess, who ran one of the largest farms on his newly inherited estate, though she was both a woman and a widow. It was her son who now held the lease, but an hour’s observation was enough to determine who was really in charge. He was glad to see such an important piece of land in good hands. He had met about thirty other Elizabeths, of all ages, ranks, and professions, but none of the others had made much of an impression. Finally, tenth, he met Miss Elizabeth Bennet. At first, she was Barely Tolerable, Asymmetrical, and Without Any Good Features Elizabeth. Then he realised that she was uncommonly intelligent and had beautiful dark eyes. As he grew to admire her, he reached a dilemma. He could not call her Dear, Dearest, Lovely, or Loveliest Elizabeth. Why did such an uncommon woman have such a common name? Nothing seemed quite right, he felt he could not call her Witty, Intelligent, or Wonderful Elizabeth. Then for a couple months she was simply, The Girl Who Broke My Heart. Then there was a second chance. After trying it out once, The Handsomest Woman of My Acquaintance just seemed too formal and rather too long to say. All of the blame clearly lay at the feet of the Bennets. No, that was unkind, it was the whole of England that needed to stop naming every other girl Elizabeth! He ought to start some sort of campaign. When it came to the point, and her Christian name was finally his right to say, he still had not decided what to do. He needed to distinguish her merit, capture the depth of his love, communicate the extent of his admiration, and distinguish her from all the rest of the Elizabeths that he had known. He said, Dearest, Loveliest Elizabeth before he really knew what he was saying. And it felt right. Years later, and to the great mirth of his wife, he insisted that their first daughter be named Adelaide, so that whomever her future husband was to be, he would not face any similar problems. It was a great misfortune that the next summer, Prince William married Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen and caused a rage for the name Adelaide. Darcy did not tempt fate again, and when their second daughter was born, she was, most properly, His Precious Elizabeth. Thanks for reading! For more, check out my homepage For more short stories, go here For my Mansfield Park variation, here Unfairly Caught For my crossover romance, check out Prideful & Persuaded