Work Text:
Summer, age 15
The sun is prickling Elizabeth Bennet’s skin on her bare arms. The air is thick with a heavy heat that seemed to stop time. She is reading outside, a thin layer of sweat framing her brow. She tried to focus on the words, but it is a particularly difficult book, and the heat is making it nearly unbearable. She snaps the book closed and gets up in one, swift movement. Unable to find rest in the heat, she takes to pacing the front yard in its afternoon shadows. She finds solace and a bit of cooling in the shadowed grass, and lays, looking up at the blue sky, no clouds in sight, and no birds seems to bear to fly in the heat. It is quiet as well. In the distance, she can hear the hens cluck in the backyard, she can hear Mary practice scales in the house, and the gentlest of breezes is tickling the hairs on her arms. Lizzy feels herself drift off, her eyes are closed, the grass is cool and it is the first thing that has been comfortable all day, when a figure stands in front of her. She recognizes the upside-down face immediately. “Charlotte!” Lizzy sits up in the precise moment Charlotte sits down next to her. “I thought you had gotten in trouble with Mrs. Bennet for sleeping on grass before?” she teases. “Especially in your white dress!” Lizzy grimaces, “not you too!” Charlotte’s giggle cures Lizzy’s boredom. “Do you want to go swimming in the lake?” Lizzy says, her sense of adventure waking up from the daze of the heat.
They walk down towards the lake along the golden wheat for half a mile. They try to talk as much as possible, as Charlotte is going away in the morning to visit family. They talk of the books that they have read, and the lightness of their lively conversation carry them all the way down to the lake, green and calm and surrounded by trees, shielded from curious eyes.
The fabric of her dress wrinkles as Lizzy grabs a fistful of it and drags it carelessly over her head, leaving her hair slightly tousled. Charlotte is right behind her, unfastening the clasps on the side, and carefully stepping out of it. Lizzy figures that that is the biggest difference between them. They stand next to each other in their petticoats, trying to ignore that they in the past year have grown foreign shapes. Charlotte tries not to look too intently at the soft curves of her friend, and jumps head first into the water. Lizzy follows a few seconds after. The sensation of coolness is a relief, and they swim around in silence for a while. Lizzy floats in the surface of the water, her knees and thighs and stomach peaking over the surface. The silence is growing too thick between them, so Charlotte splays water at her, knowing that her friend will retaliate immediately, and so she does. The girls splash water at one another, forgetting the momentary silence before. Their fingers prune and their throats grow hoarse from laughing. Lizzy’s playfulness has taken over, and is holding Charlotte’s head under the water, pressing so she is firmly under there, but not so much that she is imposing any danger on her friend. Charlotte fights her way up, gasping and spitting water. “Are you alright? I’m sorry!” Lizzy exclaims, grabbing onto her arm. Charlotte throws her head back in laughter, and covers her face with her hands. Lizzy grabs her hands and moves them, unsure if Charlotte is crying or laughing. When she is reassured that she is shaking with laughter, she moves closer and kisses her lips without thinking about it. Her lips are soft and they taste of the lake and a natural saltiness. They part quickly, embarrassed at what has just happened at first, but Charlotte smiles and kisses her again, more as a symbolic gesture than a proof of her affection.
Soon after, they get out of the water and walk back towards Longbourn in their petticoats as the sun dries them.
Winter, age 18
The frost is biting Elizabeth’s cheeks, building up a raw pink. Flakes of snow are settling into her hair, making her coat wet, and water is seeping into her boots, but she is so close to Lucas Lodge it would be silly to turn back now. She stomps through the cold, her hands protecting a parcel under her coat. Charlotte meets her at Lucas Lodge, and Elizabeth is lead inside to the fire, where she is told to stand and get warm while Charlotte calls for tea. As Elizabeth is slowly regaining warmth, Charlotte is both telling her off for coming to her in the snow storm, and helping her get warm, fussing about her. “You are sure you do not want a shawl?” she asks, even though Lizzy has already declined twice. “Sit down, Charlotte, you are fussing over nothing,” Lizzy tells her. They sit down together. “I only came to give you your Christmas present, anyway,” Lizzy says and presents the slightly damp parcel. Charlotte takes it from her hands and opens it. Inside is a bonnet, sewn with a blue ribbon. “Thank you, Lizzy, it is so beautiful.” She glides her fingers over the embroidery on the side, a small blue forget-me-not. “Jane heavily assisted me in the making of it” she admitted with a shy smile. “I got you something too,” Charlotte says after admiring the needlework on the small flower. While Charlotte retrieves the parcel, Lizzy is left alone in the parlor room, with only the roaring fire and her tea cup for company, both warming her cold body. Shortly after Charlotte returns with a small box. When the lid is lifted, a book takes its place. They sit and talk for a while, until the daylight start retreating. Their tea cups are empty; only a little partly dissolved lump of sugar is left in one of the cups.
“You should really go home before the dark sets in properly” Charlotte urges her. Elizabeth knows she’s right, and they stand up to take part. “Thank you so much for the present, Lizzy,” Charlotte reiterates. They are standing in the hallway, hidden behind a coat hanger, the soft lighting from the candles are giving a certain glow to Charlotte’s kind eyes, almost a sparkle, Lizzy thinks, moments before her best friend leans in to kiss her. Lizzy backed away, worried that Mrs. or Mr. Lucas might catch them, but Charlotte reached for her again, this time lightly resting her hand on her friend's back. “What about your parents?” Her friend shook her head. “They are visiting the Boyles.” “And your siblings?” “They have gone, too. There is only me and the servants left.” Lizzy kissed her friend again, less tentative and with more intention. She is feeling warm in a completely different way than the fire and the tea has provided. It is a warmth that shot out from her heart, her blood rushing to every cell in her body, to assure it that what is happening is real. She lays an arm on Charlotte’s lower back, and rests her other hand at the nape of her neck, touching the small hairs that were too short to be pinned up. Charlotte moves closer towards Lizzy, leaving little space at all, and she can feel the heat she emits, as if her whole body is on fire, much like the feeling Charlotte feels. She feels the warmth of Lizzy’s tongue, a whole new sensation. Charlotte loses track of how long they kiss, but her cheeks are red and her lips swollen when they break apart. Her hands has wandered and one is tangled up in Lizzy’s hair, and one grabbing her torso. Meanwhile, Lizzy’s hands had been resting on her friends’ back. It is now dark outside, and the air threatening with more snow. As the girls realizes, Charlotte unfastens Lizzy’s bonnet and they draw back to the front room. The sofa creaks as they settle on it, more comfortable, less frigid than before, closer and hungrier. Lizzy’s hands travel the seam of Charlotte’s dress, and under the layers of fabric finds her warm thighs.
Autumn, age 21
The church bells are ringing, filling the wet autumn air with its beautiful sound. Elizabeth shudders in her coat; she should have worn her shawl over it. Through the crowd of people, she searches for Charlotte, and is pleased to catch Charlotte staring at her, too. She is equally pleased to see her wearing the bonnet with the forget-me-not embroidery. They exchange smiles, but the wedding party walks right in front of them, separating their gazes, prying them apart. Elizabeth congratulates the couple, and cheers alongside the rest of the crowd surrounding the church door.
The Bennets are invited to dine with the Lucases, Mrs. Bennet tells the family as the carriage is taking them all home. Lizzy rejoices on the inside, but merely says that she looks forward to it. She gives Jane a look, but she is not sure if she notices. She’s not sure if Jane has noticed anything. She wants to tell her, but her heart stops her from doing that. “Oh, it was a lovely ceremony,” Mrs. Bennet comments. The conversation falls on the fact that Miss Applesby only wore one layer of muslin, as Lizzy drifts into daydreams.
At dinner, the conversation is still on the wedding. Mrs. Lucas and her daughters share all their sentiments, and the Bennets do not mind repeating theirs to a new and more attentive audience. Mrs. Bennet turns to look at her daughters, “oh, when will your time come? Lizzy, couldn’t you find someone handsome in the town? We could send you to London to stay with your aunt and uncle, if you promised to return married?” Lizzy’s gaze flies up from her plate as she hears her mama talk this way. “I shall not marry for anyone’s but my own pleasure.” She retorts. She grows hot at the word pleasure. Was that the wrong word? She dares not look at Charlotte, but if she had, she would have seen that Charlotte was indeed turning scarlet, but a smirk is also playing on her lips. Instead, she turns her attention back to her plate. Mrs. Bennet does not retaliate, but she cannot help but sigh too loudly and theatrically.
After dinner, the men go to their drawing room, while the women stay in theirs. Charlotte and Elizabeth quickly fall into their usual seats and talk as they usually do at these gatherings. Tonight, however, their conversation is not the usual lively one, and it is conducted in a lower tone than usual. “You know I love you, Lizzy, but we should marry – we should have that security!” her tone is a mere hush, afraid that anyone else hears her confession. Lizzy refrains from touching her lover’s arm in the reassuring way she does, when the talk falls upon marrying. “I will only marry you” her tone is unmistakably serious, but there is sweetness to it underneath. Charlotte feels her heart flutter, but she tells her it is ridiculous. “You know that cannot be done. We ought to marry.” Elizabeth, ever the cynic, retaliates: “and what? Marry within the same parish and live as we do now, only in our own homes with our own sitting rooms and pigs to feed?” Charlotte is unsure whether Lizzy means actual pigs or if she is referring to their metaphorical, future husbands, but she breaks a nervous smile either way. Uncharacteristically to Charlotte’s rational behavior, she plants her hand on top of Lizzy’s, and they sit like this for as long as possible.
Spring, age 24
Late spring is Charlotte’s favorite. The world is still and in harmony; the birds sing, the sun is bright and warm. The world is not unlike a living painting, a quiet tableau for people to enjoy and disrupt. Today is one of these days. She fusses with her needlework, not quite focused enough to dip into the embroidery she is working on. She just sits in the sun ray and closes her eyes, letting the sun kiss her eyelids. She does not know how long she sits like this, but she does not hear the footsteps that approaches her. She does, however, notice the shadow that leans in over her face and she opens her eyes to see Elizabeth leaned over her. Elizabeth leans down to kiss her sun warmed forehead. She watches Elizabeth cross the room and disappear and come back with a book under her arm. She looks lazily over at her wife as she settles on the sofa next to her chair and starts reading aloud:
“Two lovers by a moss-grown spring: they leaned soft cheeks together there, mingled the dark and sunny hair, and heard the wooing thrushes sing. O budding time! O love’s blest prime!”
The cottage is small, but big enough for the two. She looks around the shell blue sitting room. If only this was theirs all year round. She vocalizes this desire, to which Lizzy responds with “it is ours for a few more days.”
“Time away at the sea was a splendid idea,” Charlotte muses. The girls’ parents had visited one week, staying in the city to visit. Mrs. Bennet had been oblivious, brash and a loud visiter, but Lizzy had been so delighted when she and her sisters had come to see them. She was worried that they might not be able to. Mr. and Mrs. Lucas, both possessing a little more sense, had an inkling, Charlotte feared, but neither of them had said anything.
During the days their time is spent between kissing and giggling and reading and going on long strolls into town and being furiously happy, and the evenings, when the wind howls, are spent kissing so loudly that the sound is drowned by their beating hearts, the rush of their blood, and the soft moans of pleasure.