Mrs Darcy vs The Aliens

The man had gone too far this time. It was time to put an end to this nonsense once and for all.

“Wickham,” said Elizabeth. “Sheath your weapon immediately! There are ladies present.”

“Mrs Darcy, I must explain myself – ” The music had stopped and everyone was looking in their direction. “This … this man next to you – ”

“My husband?”

“Y – es, your … husband … your supposed husband, Mrs Darcy, is in fact … an imposter. An alien imposter.”

There was a shocked intake of breath from all those present. Wickham approached Mr and Mrs Darcy with his sword outstretched before him. Mr Darcy took hold of Elizabeth’s arm and stepped out in front of her.

“Wickham,” he said in a firm voice. “I must ask you to leave. You are embarrassing yourself.”

“Am I indeed, Mr So-Called Darcy? I think we’ll soon find out exactly who is embarrassing himself, and it won’t be George Wickham.”

“Enough! This is quite intolerable!” Darcy’s voice had begun to quaver, and he was clearly becoming agitated.

“Intolerable for whom, Mr Not-Quite Darcy? Only yourself, sir.” Elizabeth was astonished to realise that Wickham appeared to be enjoying himself. It was as if he was deliberately goading Darcy.

“Mr Wickham, you are behaving as if you are drunk-k-k-k-k!” The voice was rising now, and he had developed a slight twitch.

Wickham tilted his head on one side and raised a single eyebrow. “Did I hear you correctly, Mr Whoops-I-Don’t-Think-This-Is-The-Real-One Darcy? Did you say ‘drunk-k-k-k-k’?”

“Stop it!” said Elizabeth, trying to push in front of her husband. But Darcy held her back with a firm grip.

“Stay there, my dear,” he said. “I shall deal with this blag-k-k-k-k-k-ard!”

“This what?” said Wickham, laughing. Several of the others in the ballroom joined in, with varying degrees of nervousness.

“This blag-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-” Something decidedly queer was happening to Darcy. As he grew more and more angry, his head was beginning to shake violently backwards and forwards. His hold on Elizabeth’s arm was growing stronger and for a brief second she thought she felt something slimy creeping around her waist.

“Exactly how are you going to deal with me?” said Wickham, a smile playing around his lips. “Will you give me a kick-k-k-k-k-ing?”

“I shall have you … ek!”

“Ek? You shall have me ek? Dear me, dear me.”

“Ek! Ek!”

“Fitzy?” said Elizabeth, looking up at him in alarm. “Are you all right, my dear? And could you perchance loosen your grip?”

“Ek – ek – ek – ek – ek – ”

Darcy began to move backwards towards the doorway out of the ballroom, dragging Elizabeth with him.

“Mrs Darcy,” said Wickham. “Free yourself! Now!”

“Ek – ek – ek – ek – ek!”

“Fitzy, let me go!” said Elizabeth. “Let me go!” This wasn’t right at all. She tried to wrestle herself free, but it was no use. He had her firmly in his grasp. Then some long-suppressed instinct for self-preservation asserted itself and she kicked him hard in the shins. For an instant, Darcy mutated into a revolting mass of writhing tentacles, before his shape quickly restored itself to human form once again. There was a scream from the dancefloor as one of the ladies fainted. The sound distracted him for a moment, permitting Elizabeth to break free and run back towards Wickham, who was now advancing on the retreating Darcy.

Darcy now turned and fled up the stairs towards the upper floors with Wickham in hot pursuit, leaving Elizabeth behind in the ballroom. She turned towards the crowd of guests, who were all now staring at her as one, open-mouthed.

“My husband is unwell,” she said by way of explanation. Then she turned, picked up her skirts and ran after the pair of them.