Mrs Darcy vs The Aliens

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!”

Mr Collins was flying, but he knew not how nor where, nor even – now he came to think of it – when. The transporter ray – even in the hands of such a skilled practitioner as his esteemed patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh – was an inaccurate device at the best of times and his ultimate destination could be almost anywhere in time or space.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!”

The shock at his treatment by Lady Catherine had dissipated somewhat during his journey into the unknown. In any case, no doubt she had a point. He must have let her down somehow – although he was at a loss for the moment exactly how – and she was fully entitled to exact punishment. It was, however, a shame to lose such a gracious and beneficent patron as Lady Catherine.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!”

The wind rushed past his ears, and he flailed his arms, trying to slow himself down. When was it going to end? Did this kind of thing happen every time? He hadn’t yet dared to open his eyes, so he had no idea what was going on around him, and there was every chance that the eventual landing could be an unpleasant experience. It was in fact entirely possible that he would not survive this.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!”

Come on now, he thought to himself, pull yourself together – what’s the worst that can happen? However, this did not prove to be a helpful line of enquiry. There were very many bad things that could happen to him right now and he decided that, on balance, he would prefer not to think about any of them.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!”

He decided to risk opening one eye, and almost immediately saw a tree heading straight for him. He put out his hands in front of him and somehow managed to cushion the impact. For a second, he dangled from a branch, ape-like, and then dropped heavily onto the ground. Silence reigned, broken only by the tweeting birds of the dawn chorus. A damp country smell filled the air.

“Mornin’,” said a voice.

Collins looked up towards the direction it came from. “Er … yes, good – ”

“You alright, mister?” A face peered down at him. It was florid, male and chewing a long piece of grass.

“I believe I am – ”

“Is that so? Is that so indeed? Strikes me as an odd place fer a gentleman such as yerself ter kip down fer the night? Missus kick yer out?”

“Great heavens! The impertinence! I shall report you to the authorities for insulting a minister!” He struggled to stand up, but his foot was caught in one of the lower branches and his efforts merely resulted in him ending up with his face in the mud.

“So you a man of the cloth, eh? Well, ain’t that a coincidence? ’Cos they’re a-looking for a new Rector ’round these parts. You come for the interviews?”

Collins thought for a moment. He was going to have to make a living somehow. He softened his tone a little. “Interesting. Maybe I was a little hasty just now. As you see, I am in a difficult position here.” He paused. “This may sound a curious question … but which year is it?”

The face frowned. “You don’t know? What a peculiar gentleman you are to be sure. Well, sir, ’tis the year of our Lord 1906.”

Collins finally managed to extricate his foot from the tree and succeeded in standing up. He looked long and hard at the yokel in front of him. “And where is this place?” he said.

“Why, sir, this be Stiffkey! ’Tis the finest place on God’s own earth is Stiffkey.”

Stiffkey, thought Collins. I like the sound of that. He really had fallen on his feet this time – just when he thought he might have ended up walking into the proverbial lion’s den.