Zachary Boyd, who wrote this fanfic in Ashton Foley-Schramm’s “Revisiting Pride & Prejudice” course, is from Tulsa, Oklahoma, and is majoring in Professional Writing.

 

***

 

In regard to Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice, it is often the subject of discussion whether it is Mr. Darcy who acts prejudicial towards Elizabeth, or if Lizzie is prejudicial towards Darcy. Why not both? Though he falls in love with her, Darcy believes Elizabeth cannot make a good match because of her family’s status–an assumption made about a person based on the people around them. Elizabeth cannot imagine a redeeming quality in Darcy after the way he acted during their first encounter and Wickham’s testimony about the injustice Darcy levied on him–a complete condemnation of character based on a brief encounter and a single, unprovable testimony. The idea behind “Fitz of Accusation” is to transport the theme of prejudice illustrated by Elizabeth Bennet into a modern setting. It is still important to discuss Pride & Prejudice because its approach to prejudice as an interpersonal aspect rather than just a social concept is becoming increasingly novel in a society where prejudice is only defined in non-personal contexts.

 

***

“Hey, Charlotte?” Elizabeth addressed her best friend-roommate, as she leaned over the side of her lofted bed.

“Yeah?” Charlotte responded, closing her book on her finger to save her spot.

“What do you think about going out tonight?”

Charlotte reached over to her nightstand and grabbed a bookmark out of the cup next to her lamp. Replacing her finger with the bookmark, Charlotte pressed the thicker fiber between the pages of her book and placed the novel on the table. Sitting up on her mattress, Charlotte studied her friend’s face before speaking.

“I didn’t think you were the social type, Lizzie.”

“I’m not, but my mum’s pestering me about going out and making friends, or more specifically, ‘meeting someone’.” Elizabeth curled her index and middle finger on both hands in air-quotes before letting her arms fall over the side of her bed, one on each side of her head.

“I’ve met your mum, Lizzie, and I’ve seen you two in the same room. I don’t recall her being someone whose opinion you seemed to hold in high regard, nor should you, if I’m being blunt.”

Elizabeth sighed, letting her head fall. Though she didn’t always like her friend’s lack of restraint in expressing her opinion, she certainly appreciated it. Still . . .

“I told Jane about it and she agreed with Mum, but, like, more to just get her off my back. We both know that mum is just going to keep being annoying about it, so why not just get it over with? Plus, maybe it’d be nice to actually meet some people and not be locked in here every night.”

“If you had already made your decision, why did you ask me? And you know my parents have already set me up with a guy.”

“Okay, and?” Elizabeth pulled herself back on the bed with a groan. “It’s not like you can’t talk to other people or God forbid”–Elizabeth craned her head back and gasped, placing the back of her hand to her forehead in a faux gesture of shock–“men when you’re engaged. It’s 2023, not the eighteenth century. Are you even engaged yet?”

“Well…no,” Charlotte tucked a strand of hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear.

“Okay then, plus I’d feel awkward going by myself.”

“And you think I’ll help you fit–”

“Shit!”

Charlotte instinctively jumped to her feet as the curse was immediately succeeded by the loud smack of Elizabeth hitting the floor.

“Oh my God, Lizzie! Are you okay?”

Instead of a cry of pain or a request for help, all that Charlotte heard was her friend’s laughter. It grew louder until the cacophony reached its peak. She couldn’t help but join in, falling to the floor with her back against her bed. She held her stomach as she laughed and listened to the sound of Elizabeth getting her own ab workout as she rolled on the floor.

“Oh my God, that was amazing,” Elizabeth announced once she was able to breathe. She sat up, wiping the corners of her eyes of laughter-tears. She was slow to stand up, careful to not fall again as she regained her senses. “What were you saying, Charlotte?”

“I forgot. What were you saying, Lizzie?” Charlotte quipped back.

“Oh yeah, I was explaining why we’re going to a party tonight.”

“And where’s this party?”

“It’s just off campus—Jane told me about it. She’s been partnering with a classmate on a project, and he invited her to a party that he and his friends are hosting and to bring as many people as she wanted.”

“What time?”

“Eight,” Elizabeth grabbed her phone off her desk and clicked the power button. “So, in an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll get ready,” Charlotte concluded.

* * *

“Is that it?” Charlotte pointed from Elizabeth’s left at a house on the other side of the road, just up from them.

Elizabeth pulled out her phone from her jeans, typed in her password, and scrolled to her ‘Messages’ app. “Uh, yeah,” she confirmed after squinting through the night to compare the number on the house to the address Jane had sent her. Stepping off the sidewalk, Elizabeth and Charlotte looked both ways down the street before hastily making their way to the other side.

“I think going to the gym once in a while would do you good, Charlotte,” Elizabeth chuckled, mocking Charlotte as the older girl caught her breath in open-mouth gulps and held a hand to her chest.

“Fuck off,” Charlotte spat back once she had regained her breath enough that a gasp wouldn’t interrupt every word.

“Nope, you’re stuck with me,” Elizabeth giggled, waiting for Charlotte to fully recollect herself before making her way to the house that supposedly had a party going on inside.

Once they were on the porch, Elizabeth could hear muffled music and a muted ocean of voices through the door.

“Do we knock?” Charlotte asked.

Elizabeth answered by rapping her knuckles against the door. Charlotte doubted anybody inside would be able to hear, and she assumed that Elizabeth agreed, judging by the furrow of her brow as she waited for an answer. Elizabeth raised her hand to knock again just as the door opened. A young man of average height greeted them.

“Charles, right?” Elizabeth asked.

“That is me,” Charles smiled cheerfully. “I’m guessing you’re Jane’s sister. Elizabeth, right?”

“You can call me Lizzie, but yeah. This is my friend Charlotte,” Elizabeth gestured to said girl.

“Hey,” Charlotte waved with her wrist.

“Well, nice to meet you. Come in,” Charles stepped to the side of the entryway as he held the door open, prompting the two girls to step through the doorway.

“Thanks.”

Elizabeth felt as if the doorway was an invisible, intangible barrier between the inside of the house and everything else. The moment she passed the door frame, her senses were assaulted in a way that she wouldn’t have been able to anticipate just moments prior. Multicolored lights were machine-gunning her vision and a bass constantly rocked her body. The living room was a flood of people holding red solo cups, vapes, or both. She surveyed the sticky-smelling ocean and spotted a familiar shade of blonde hair on its outskirts. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder to make sure Charlotte was still with her, before pulling the poor girl between a wall and a constantly jostling throng of people.

“Jane!” Elizabeth yelled to her older sister over the cacophony that assaulted her ears. Elizabeth was less than a yard away when her efforts finally paid off. Jane turned to face her little sister with a wide smile on her face, which Elizabeth thought was only a little affected by what was in Jane’s cup.

“Lizzie, you’re here!” Elizabeth awkwardly accepted the inebriated hug, praying that Jane wouldn’t spill anything on her blouse. “And Charlotte! It’s nice to see you!” Jane pulled herself off Elizabeth and glomped onto her company.

“How have you been, Charlotte? I didn’t think you were the party type.”

“Lizzie dragged me along. She said she thought it’d be ‘fun’,” Charlotte explained sarcastically and with air quotes.

“Oh, lighten up,” Jane exclaimed. “You’re in college; have some fun. Lizzie’s just looking out for you.”

“I suppose,” Charlotte sighed.

“Why is everybody squished together?” Elizabeth asked.

“Caroline and her friends made a bet with another group of girls–I don’t recall what it was–and the loser would have to play spin the bottle at the next party. The other group lost.”

“Who’s Caroline?” Elizabeth followed up.

“Charles’ younger sister,” Jane explained.

“So, is there like a punch stand or something somewhere?” Elizabeth asked her sister. “My throat is dry.”

“No, but there’s a cooler by the stairs.” With the hand holding her cup, Jane pointed over the sea of people to a plastic blue ice box sat on a portable table, pushed up against the side of the stairs. “Oh, and it’s not just beer. There are a few bottles of water in there, too,” Jane said in answer to the discomfort showing on Elizabeth’s face.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth sighed in relief, before squeezing back through the party-goers.

Once at the cooler-table, Elizabeth pulled open the lid and dug her hand through the ice. She only slightly cringed at the cold sting before finding plastic and pulling the bottle of water out.

After closing the lid, Elizabeth unscrewed the cap of her water and took a large gulp before putting the cap back on. As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, she spotted a figure sitting at the top of the stairs. Having nothing better to do, she rounded the stair rail.

“Hey,” Elizabeth waved, before taking a spot on the step beside whom she now saw was a tall man. “I’m Lizzie. What’s your name?”

“Fitz,” came his short, gruff reply.

“How’s your night going?”

“Could be better.”

Okay, Elizabeth could see where this conversation was going: nowhere. But she wasn’t eager to rejoin the festivities.

“You don’t seem like a party person, so what are you doing here?” Elizabeth asked, trying to get her conversation partner to say more than three words.

“A friend asked me to come.”

That was more than three words. Success.

“So then why are you just sitting on the stairs?”

“Like you said, not much of a party person. Why are you talking to me while sitting on the stairs?”

“Same reason, I guess. Not really the social type. Actually, this is the first party I’ve ever been to,” Elizabeth explained.

“I couldn’t tell.”

“Hey,” Elizabeth could hear the roll of Fitz’s eyes. “You don’t have to be rude about it.”

“You’re not pretty enough for me to not be rude.”

“Fucking asshole,” said Elizabeth to Fitz’s comment as she shot to her feet and jaunted back down the stairs.

For the third time that night, but the first with a water bottle in hand, she tried not to drown in the ocean of people as she searched for her sister and best friend. Once she got back to their side, Jane noticed the dark cloud that had quickly congregated around Elizabeth.

“Hey, you alright?”

“I’m fine. Some asshole just said I wasn’t pretty enough for him to respect.”

* * *

“What are you saying, Jane? I can’t understand what you’re saying.” Crossing her right leg over the left, Elizabeth leaned back in the cafė chair. “I wonder why.” An eye roll. “How late did you stay up? Yes, I know you’ll be fine, but I’m just making sure you’re okay right now. Is there someone else there? Charles? As in the Charles who hosted the party last night? Wait, forget I asked. I’m hanging up now. Have fun. Love you.”

Bringing her phone away from her ear, Elizabeth pressed the red hang-up icon before clicking the home button. Swiping, she stopped on her music app and clicked the shuffle button that appeared on the app’s home screen. A soft melody began playing in her earbuds as she laid her phone on the table in front of her, face down and beside her laptop. She scooted her seat up so that she could reach the keyboard without bending forward.

As Elizabeth was opening her laptop, she was surprised when a hand appeared in front of her holding a cup of coffee. She followed the limb it was connected to, before her face turned upward to occasion her eyes upon a handsome stranger’s face.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” She gingerly took the coffee with both hands, before setting it beside her phone.

The newcomer took the opportunity to sit himself in the chair opposite Elizabeth, setting his own drink on the table.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion. Her face was, too, evident by the guy’s chuckle.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. When I saw a pretty girl sitting by herself, I took a chance. Fortune favors the bold, after all.”

“I will say that it’s a pleasant surprise,” Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile at his witty optimism. “Also, what did you get me?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You seem like a regular, so I asked the barista what you usually get.”

“Probably a good call,” Elizabeth agreed. It was hard not to grin at the easy way he spoke. “My name’s George, by the way.”

“Elizabeth,” Elizabeth stuck her arm across the table, careful to avoid spilling the coffee that he had so kindly gotten her. George shook her hand cheerfully.

“So, how’s your day been?” Elizabeth began, taking a sip of her coffee as she waited for his answer.

“Much better now; it was pretty boring before.”

“Classes?”

“Yep.”

“Makes sense. Anything especially boring?”

“I think ‘especially boring’ has become the new normal. Lecture after lecture,” George took a swig of his own coffee, before setting it back down and leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, I definitely understand. What’s your major?”

“Technical engineering. It’s a lot of technical stuff. Who knew?” George threw his hands up in faux exasperation.

“Not me,” Elizabeth snickered.

“What about you? Anything exciting happen today?”

“Nope, just essays to write,” Elizabeth sighed, having already accepted her fate of typing on her computer for the next however many hours.

“Sounds fun.”

“I know, right?!” Elizabeth fake-squealed, blowing her eyes comically wide.

“So, what’s your major, since it seems appropriate I ask.”

“Makes sense. English. Fairly straightforward.”

“It fits.”

“I’ve been told,” Elizabeth nodded in fond acceptance.

“So, anything happen lately? Surely, someone like you is careful not to let themselves get burnt out,” George drawled.

“Well, you’d be surprised then,” Elizabeth sighed, a resigned noise, as she recalled all the nights spent staring at a computer screen without actually writing anything. “I did go to a party for the first time, though, last night.”

“Oh? Where?” George enquired, seemingly intrigued.

“My sister’s boyfriend’s house,” A lie, but a lot easier to say than ‘the guy my sister is working on a project with.’ And if the call from earlier was any indication, Elizabeth would guess that it wasn’t the farthest thing from the truth. “Charles Bingley. Do you know him?”

“Yeah, he’s a friend of a friend.” Tension slipped into George’s voice when he answered, but his face was just as handsome and unmarred as before. Elizabeth assumed that she was hearing things. “Did you have the chance to meet the son of Pemberley’s founder?”

“No?” Elizabeth didn’t know how to answer that; she needed a name. “Who’s that?”

“Fitzwilliam Darcy. Fitz for short.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. The mention of that name brought about the memory of the unpleasant interaction she had the night prior. “Yeah, he’s a dick.”

A snort. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Yeah? And why not?”

“Fitz and I grew up together. Our dads knew each other. When my father passed, he took me in. Me and Fitz never became especially close, but he was cordial and respectful enough, at least as much as my status as his father’s ward mandated. But when Fitz’s father passed, near the end of our junior year of high school, he broke off all ties.”

Elizabeth was saddened at the tone with which George told his story, but her opinion wasn’t swayed. “While I am sorry for his loss, that is no reason to be rude to a stranger.”

“Maybe not, but I’m sure his reasons are understandable. He doesn’t do things without reason. You know, I wanted to major in business for the longest time. After my first semester, I applied to De Bourgh College. I had the necessary GPA and prerequisites, but I was quickly rejected. Even if his father no longer governs the university, Fitz’s name still holds a lot of sway.”

“So, Fitz threw around his weight just to keep you from getting your goal? That’s bullshit,” Elizabeth declared.

“I’m sure he had a reason. There were probably a lot more suitable candidates than me, anyway.”

How could George not be angry, Elizabeth thought. She already thought Fitz was a dick, but now she knew that he was a scumbag.

“You still had a right to a fair opportunity,” Elizabeth unintentionally growled. “Sorry, that just–ugh! It makes me so mad.”

“No need to get angry for my sake,” George stood up. “I think I’ll get going, since you probably have work to do. Can I get your number before I go?”

“Of course,” Elizabeth answered without hesitation.

* * *

“Yeah, I’m outside. No, take your time. We have all day. Say ‘hi’ to Charles for me,” Elizabeth finished. She went to hang up, but Jane beat her to it.

She sighed, sticking her phone and hand into her pocket. It was cold, but not unpleasant. The chill air felt good in her lungs, and she got to wear the beanie that Jane had sewn for her years ago. Exhaling in order to see her breath freeze in front of her, Elizabeth leaned against her car, which was parked outside Charles’ place.

Elizabeth turned towards the sound of leaves crunching, and her good mood was instantly shattered. The chill of the air became biting and she had the urge to shelter inside her car as she waited for Jane.

“Hey,” Fitz said awkwardly, coming to stand beside Elizabeth. She didn’t deign to give him a response.

“I’m talking to you,” he tried again.

“And I wish you weren’t.”

“What’s your problem? I’m just trying to be polite.”

“And I wish you weren’t.”

“You could not try at all.”

“I didn’t want to be awkward.”

“You weren’t being awkward before you started talking to me,” Elizabeth pointed out, keeping her gaze ahead of her and avoiding looking at the offender of her mood. “You could have just gone on your way.”

“I really couldn’t,” Fitz defended. “I’m picking a friend up, and they live here,” He gestured to the two-story house that they were waiting in front of.

Elizabeth couldn’t find any good reason to keep arguing. “Fine, just don’t talk to me.”

Fitz ignored her. “The day fits you a lot better.”

“Where did that come from?!” Elizabeth spluttered. “You don’t just say that.”

“Why not?” Fitz asked, as if he genuinely didn’t know why what he just did and said was weird.

“Because you’re an asshole!” Elizabeth exclaimed, finally turning to face the person she was talking to. “You don’t just insult strangers who are trying to be nice, and then compliment them the next time you see them, only after they tell you to stop talking to them.”

“Oh look, she can look at me,” Fitz snarked, seemingly unaffected by Elizabeth’s outburst. That only served to rile Elizabeth up more.

“What’s your problem?”

“What problem?”

“What–ugh, you! Why are you like this?”

“I don’t know what you mean, so therefore I cannot give an answer.”

“As I pointed out earlier: Why are you an asshole? Is that clear enough for you?”

“Why do you think I’m an asshole? I made one comment that at the time I believed was true. Does telling the way one feels make one an ‘asshole’?” Fitz questioned, cocking his head.

Elizabeth couldn’t tell if that was for added effect or real, but she did recognize that Fitz was messing with her, and she didn’t appreciate that.

“How could I not?” Elizabeth answered, the effort it took to calm herself back down audible. “Insulting me is the least of your wrongdoings. Do you know someone named George? Almost as tall as you, infinitely more good-looking, kind and courteous? The opposite of you, really.”

“Yes, I do know such a person,” Fitz spoke deliberately. He had stiffened at the mention of the name ‘George’. His brow furrowed and his voice became flatter.

“How could you do such a thing to such a kind person? He had done everything he needed to get into the college of his choice, and you thought it necessary to interfere with the continuance of his preferred path of schooling because–what? You have a grudge from when you grew up? He got some attention from your dad that you wanted, and you think it’s an equivalent response to ruin his life?”

“Yes, I have a grudge against such a kind person, and yes I’m petty enough to hold a situation that was not his own fault over his head. All of this is true, yes,” Fitz admitted, but not out of guilt. It was a mockery.

“That’s all you have to say? Really? You know, I was going to give you the benefit of the doubt, because I thought that no one could possibly be that cruel, so as to do the actions George said you had done against him. But that was a waste, apparently,” Elizabeth sighed.

“Agreed.”

“Just–fuck you.”

Elizabeth made to retreat into her car, but before she could open the door, she felt a cool grip around her wrist.

“Let go of me!” She tried to yank herself out of Fitz’s grasp but met with little success. Fitz leaned in.

“If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anybody else?”

“Will you let go of me?” Fitz nodded. “Fine.”

Fitz whispered in Elizabeth’s ear before standing back up. He turned around and rounded her car before stepping up on the sidewalk and making his way toward the front door. He disappeared inside, before reappearing just a few minutes later, followed by Jane and Charles, carrying a suitcase and a duffel bag, respectively.

As the trio stepped off the sidewalk, Jane kissed Charles on the cheek before separating from the group and making her way to Elizabeth.

“You good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uh, yeah. Just thinking.” And, Elizabeth supposed, that was the truth.