Pride and Prejudice and Superheroes

5. MR BENNET'S DELIGHTFUL SUBTERFUGE

Mary wished to say something very sensible, but knew not how. Her father teasingly gave her a wriggle of his left eyebrow.

"While Mary is adjusting her ideas," he continued, "let us return to the subject of our dear Mr Bingley."

This caused Elizabeth to prick up her ears.

"'Superhero'?" queried the eldest and by far handsomest daughter, Jane. "Such an unusual word to describe anyone, least of all someone we have yet to meet. Father, you are talking like Lizzy. She never stops using the word to describe her fantasy suitor."

Elizabeth frowned at Jane and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I am sick of all this superhero nonsense," cried Mrs Bennet, her nerves about to explode, "and I am more than sick of Mr Bingley."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that, dear wife," said Mr Bennet, "but why did not you tell me so before? If I had known as much this morning, I certainly would not have called upon him. It is very unlucky because as I have actually paid him a visit, and we cannot escape his acquaintance now."

The astonishment of the ladies was just what Mr Bennet had wished; that of Mrs Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest. Though when the first tumult of joy was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the time.

"How good it was of you, my dear Mr Bennet. But I knew I should persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! Oh, and it is such a good joke too, that you should have gone this morning, and never said a word about it until now."

"Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose," said Mr Bennet, getting up to leave the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife.

"What an excellent father you have, girls," said Mrs Bennet when Mr Bennet exited the room, shutting the door behind him. "I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness. Or me either, for that matter. At your father's and my time of life, it is not so pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new acquaintances so regularly. But, girls, for your sakes, we would do anything. Lydia, my love, though you are the youngest, I dare say Mr Bingley will dance with you at the next ball."

"Oh," said Lydia stoutly, "I am not afraid; for though I am the youngest, am I not the tallest?"

The girls and Mrs Bennet spent the rest of the evening conjecturing how soon Bingley would return Mr Bennet's visit, and determining when they should ask him to dinner—except for Elizabeth, who crept out of the living room and caught up with her father just outside the Library.

"Father, I found it somewhat incongruous the manner of your speech this night."

Her father gazed at her with keen intelligence behind his eyes but with a deep affection and love. "You are referring to my theft of your special word 'superhero' in relation to Mr Bingley, are you not?"

Elizabeth looked into her father's eyes, trying to determine the intelligence and motives behind them.

"Except in myths and other such stories, there are not really superheroes, father. Of that, I am well aware. But I am young, and is it not allowed for one so young to fantasise? I do find in myself a difference; and not just in my quickness. Father, if I do not reach for the stars, my heart might never fly free."

"Lizzy, you are a bird that can fly to the planet Venus at breakfast and be back in time for supper."

Elizabeth's eyebrows rose with a mixture of surprise and wonder at her father's words, trying to make a sense not just of them but also of why he had chosen them.

Her father continued, "You say there are no superheroes, yet you are one."

"Father!" Elizabeth was shocked at her father's ridiculous statement. As strange and elusive as his speech often was, there was something plain about it this time, despite it being impossible nonsense. And yet the words tugged at her heart. She wanted it to be true. It would perhaps explain a few experiences that in her grateful life had deemed to visit her. But her father had said Bingley was a superhero. What if somehow such a statement were the truth?

"Lizzy, you are a superhero. Depend on it."

Elizabeth felt a barrier had been crossed here, and she believed her father was telling her what he thought was the truth—even if he must surely be mistaken.

"And Mr Bingley ...?" quizzed Elizabeth leaving the question suspended between herself and her father.

Her father nodded slowly.

"You claim he is a superhero?"

"I claim he is a superhero, you are a superhero, and, just so you know, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy is another superhero."

"Mr Darcy? Who is Mr Darcy?"

"I have never met him, but Mr Bingley has showed me evidence of his special powers. They are in advance of Mr Bingley's."

Elizabeth felt she must have gone to bed some time ago and was having a very lucid dream.

"I am awake, father?"

"Dear Lizzy,' answered her father, placing his hand firmly on her shoulder, "everything I have confided in you this night is God's truth. I will just say to you, and you alone, that a more or less full explanation of your situation, particularly concerning your superpowers, will be received by you at some point during your time at the Meryton Ball. Perhaps you may learn something before this full explanation from Mr Bingley or Mr Darcy during the ball."

"But will Mr Bingley not be returning your visit? I will see him here, will I not?"

"Yes, but he will not speak of anything consequential. It is important that a superhero keep their identity secret except to a chosen few, of which I am one. Apparently, my brain is in many ways the brain of a superhero. Who would have thought it, Lizzy?"

"So I should stop mentioning the word 'superhero'?"

"You must! Or you would be putting the lives of all you know in danger. The easiest way for an enemy with no scruples to harm a superhero, is to harm those closest to them."

"Enemies?"

"When anyone is special, an enemy is always found, if not created, as a consequence."

"Why?"

"Because there will be people who want things that a special person has or that a special person can prevent them from having. Now off you go, Lizzy. I am sure Mr Bingley will provide you with some evidence of his superhero powers in some subtle, surreptitious way when he visits us. That is something to look forward to. Now, I shall not mention this rum business again until the Meryton Ball."

Elizabeth turned to go back to the living room, her mind full of fantastic thoughts.

"Is my girl too old to give her father a goodnight kiss?" said Mr Bennet lovingly.

Elizabeth swivelled back around and gave her father a kiss on the cheek. He kissed her forehead tenderly. Then the two went their separate ways, he into his Library, and she, back to the living room.

Elizabeth had always known she was different even if she didn't quite know to what extent. Now, she knew that other people knew this too, including her father. And she knew that some other people were different too. She felt a great sense of relief and happiness, but also a degree of trepidation. Fortunately, it was part of her specialness that allowed her to accept such circumstances.

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I hope you enjoyed this Chapter. I welcome any votes, comments or constructive criticisms (style, spelling, grammar and punctuation errors).

T. J. P. CAMPBELL.