My Virtual Darcy 🏆 2021 Wattys Shortlister

7 - Sweet Caroline

"Ouch." Caroline Bingley's delicate brow arched when I stepped on the train of her evening gown.

"Sorry." Though I held no amiable feelings towards her, my clumsiness was involuntary, prompting my immediate apologies.

For four virtual days, now, I had waited on my sick sister at Netherfield Park. Our mother's plan of sending Jane here on horseback in spite of the rainy forecast worked better than expected. Instead of forcing Miss Bingley to offer to stay the night due to the lack of carriage, Jane, soaked by the journey, caught a violent cold, and overstayed her visit.

Worry pushed me to walk three miles the next morning, and to soil the floor of the Netherfield breakfast parlour with my muddy petticoat. Though I knew that Jane would eventually heal, Amy's pale face and the dark circles under her eyes made a great impression on me. I accepted with relief Miss Bingley's half-hearted invitation to send for clothes, although I dreaded the following days and the mockery she would unleash every time I'd be upstairs, attending to my ill sister. I could have asked the Bridge to skip through that part, but a pang of guiltiness prevented me from abandoning my virtual sibling.

Charles Bingley's anxious questions when I reappeared for dinner warmed my heart. His sincere concern in her wellbeing, and his repeated attentions towards me, finished earning my affection. This virtual dude was worthy of my sister's alter ego.

As for Caroline, my opinion, tainted by Anna Chancellor's conceited portrayal, and by Kelly Reilly's sensual interpretation, was a mixture of exasperation and admiration.

She could be kind, agreeable, considerate even, when she wanted. In Jane's bedroom, Mrs. Hurst and she competed with repartee and solicitude. They entertained us with lively and buoyant anecdotes about their life in London, and I admitted the hours passed quicker when they deigned to visit us.

Downstairs was another story. Her cold politeness and subtle jabs at my family ruffled my feathers and undermined my morale. I always came back to take care of Jane with a tightened jaw. Fortunately, the latter was too feverish and drained to notice my irritation.

When the gentlemen were present, I considered myself lucky to be ignored. The Hursts were not intentionally mean. However, my interactions with them were limited to greetings, goodbyes, and weather forecasts in-between.

To be frank, the plot of the novel would have flown the same without their existence. She acted as Caroline's sounding board, the way Mrs. Philips and Kitty did for Mrs. Bennet and Lydia. As for him, his indolence and placidity put him at the same level as the furniture--present, but one would never envisage to engage in a conversation with him.

Anyhow, Miss Bingley became Darcy's personal motivation coach every time he entered a room, and marveled at each of his words and actions.

Idris enlightened me about her motivations to marry this insufferable dolt, when I mocked her despair, between two gaming sessions.

"She complimented his writing, for God's sake. Not the elegance of his calligraphy, no: she praised the speed in which he scribbled letters." I threw my hands up to emphasize my disbelief.

On the row behind me, Bahiriya, a member of our Creative Writing class, whined. "Leah. You almost poked me in the eye."

"I apologise if my gesture caused you discomfort."

She snorted at my atonement. "You're speaking weird."

"She has a Pride and Prejudice Bridge," Idris explained.

"Nice. Did you bang Darcy yet?"

"Did I what?" Warmth spread from my cheekbones to my forehead.

"Did. You. Bang. Darcy. Yet?" she repeated slower, her lips pursed in a fake kiss.