My name is William; at least, that is the name Elizabeth chose to call me. My Elizabeth still belongs to me after ten years in which time I tried to look after her to the best of my ability. I am ever grateful that she loved me enough to accept me with all my faults including my arrogance and my tendency to sleep more as the years have passed. Her overlooking my poor behavior on our first meeting still amazes me. Events in my life had led me to be distrustful and uncomfortable amongst new acquaintances especially strangers. However, she managed to straighten me out on a few issues. I also made myself clear on other issues especially by showing her I am not as antisocial as I first appeared. Even now, I continue to do so by singing her to sleep.
Yet, we still have one continuous misunderstanding though. Everyday – once a week at the very least - I give her a present. She always smiles and kisses me before picking it up with a handkerchief. Then, when she thinks I do not see, she throws it in a waste basket and promptly asks the maid to remove it. I do not understand it. Oh well, I will simply keep trying.
Hmm . . . I am getting off track. To get back to my story, I always found my Lizzy to be an intelligent, kind, witty, and loving woman. However, I finally witnessed her willfully misunderstand (1) a gentleman I found to be well educated, well-behaved, polite and extremely tolerant of her impertinence. Not to mention it was perfectly clear that he liked her, so I could not understand her coldness and bare politeness to the man. It astounded me. His only problem seemed to be his shyness as he hesitated several times and sat rather stiffly. I must say I cannot completely fault him for that, after all I am not completely comfortable in the company of people I do not know well.
Well, as you might imagine I tried to let her know that the gentleman was not deserving of her behavior and do you know what she did? She actually shooed me away. Shooed! Not only that but she pushed me out the door. Really! That rankled. So, I determined to find an opportunity to enlighten my Lizzy on the gentleman’s true character.
So, I waited under the hall table until the housekeeper brought the tea. When she opened the door, I darted in - only just managing to dodge Elizabeth’s desperate attempt to catch me - and ran under Lydia and Kitty’s chairs causing them to squeal and jump up. I heard someone call out to stop me – most likely Mrs. Bennet as it sounded rather hysterical - and narrowly avoided Mr. Bingley’s attempt to grab me for them, though he barely missed pulling my tail – which would have been highly unpleasant - and at last leaped into the still seated Mr. Darcy’s lap. He is the gentleman I mentioned earlier. Well, you might imagine Mr. Darcy’s surprise at having a rather handsome, if I might say so myself, cat curl up in his lap. I started purring as loud as possible. If my Lizzy will not notice for herself that Mr. Darcy is a good man, then I will show her. After all, if she cannot trust her cat’s intuition what can she trust?
I quickly became aware of how loud my own purring sounded in the quiet room as everyone stared at me. Hee hee. Elizabeth looked highly embarrassed as well she should be for not trusting me. Just then, I felt Mr. Darcy’s hands come around my middle to lift me off. Well, I changed his mind by extending my claws through his pant leg. It did not take him long to let go and let me remain. I knew I must remain here if I were to show my Lizzy how wrong she is about him. After all, he and I are very much alike. I do not know what he did to upset her, but it must have been a human version of my hissing when she took me off the streets and adopted me.
It did not take long for Mrs. Bennet to start hollering about how Lizzy’s terrible feline always ruins things, complaining about her nerves and profusely apologized to Mr. Bingley and a little less profusely to Mr. Darcy who had said feline on his lap.
Much to my chagrin my Lizzy decided to remove me herself in order to end the situation. So, I simply extended my claws again. Wanting to make myself clearer, I let out a low growl as well. Elizabeth let me go in shock I assure you as I never growl at her – only at her youngest sister and mother. She then tried to entice me down with the kitty treats she keeps for me. Really! Did she actually think that would deter me?
Apparently, Mr. Bingley could no longer hide his mirth or stay silent as he commented to his friend, “Well, Darcy, it appears you have gained an admirer.”
“Indeed.” I could tell Mr. Darcy was not quite as amused as his friend as he did not need to resort to hiding his smile with his hand as Mr. Bingley had done.
My Lizzy, now sporting a bright blush, took a moment to collect herself before apologizing, “Mr. Darcy, I am sorry. I do not know what came over him. He never acts this way.” Of course I do not. She had never been so stubborn before either.
“It is alright Miss Elizabeth. My sister has a cat every bit as . . . particular . . . and determined as yours appears to be. His presence does not bother me, though I do beg the ladies pardon if I do not rise as appropriate, but it seems that the cat prefers that I remain seated.”
“Oh, that’s alright, Mr. Darcy. We understand, though it shocks me that William would be so determined to remain; he usually is quite skittish around strangers.” It surprised me that little Kitty had the courage to speak up, but she is absolutely correct; I am not too fond of new people. Still, Kitty is such a dear girl, it is a shame no one notices her. She’s the nice one of the silly duo. I still remember the time where she petted me and gave me a treat after Lydia pulled my tail – that was quite painful, by the way – and, at another time, redirected her younger sister away from the table I was hiding under when Lydia wanted to tie ribbons all over me.
Well, I missed the next few minutes as I was too content being petted. Mr. Darcy sure knows how to treat a cat. He knew right where to scratch behind my ear.
The rest of the visit was rather anticlimactic. When the gentlemen decided it was time to leave, Mr. Darcy gave me a final pat and a light push on my side. So, I jumped off and paused to stretch and yawn dramatically before strutting out of the room with my furry tail held high. I remember thinking that my Elizabeth should surely know now what a nice man Mr. Darcy is.
However, my triumph was short lived. As soon as Elizabeth found me, she kept asking me how I could like such a man and berated me on how I should not have done what I did.
Oh, well. At least, I tried. Ah, here she comes. I must go sing her to sleep as she does love to hear me purr. Tomorrow, I will try to convince her that dead mice really are nice presents.
(1) Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. Volume 1. Chapter 11.
The End