The Princess and the Puppy

by Kerry

September 2003, Birthday Challenge Story

Rated PG-13

Author's Note: For those of you who are unaware – our very lovely nanner has been known to go by the name of Princess Bianca, and Julie is the proud mum of a lovely little terrier named Daisy – any similarity to her mistress in this story is purely intentional.

It was to be an intimate house party, a simple gathering of friends to spend some of the pleasanter weeks of summer amongst the finest that Derbyshire had to offer. The Bingleys (Mr. and Mrs. and Caroline), the Hursts, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and regrettably Mr. and Mrs. Collins had ventured forth to Pemberley for two weeks of merriment.

A special guest amongst them though had given a somewhat casual family party an air of something more. Foreign royalty had leant the gathering a certain distinction, and given consequence to what would have otherwise have been a very insignificant affair in the greater social scheme of things.

Princess Bianca, was not previously known to the Darcys, but had come at the invitation of Colonel Fitzwilliam. By some strange quirk of fortune he had not a month before, been assigned the not very difficult task of assuring the Princesses safety during her visit to English shores. Her lack of pretension and easiness of temper made it one of the most pleasant tasks he had undertaken in His Majesties Service. Being amiable, attractive, and much fonder of a red coat than a plain one, it was the work of no great moment that formed his resolution of persuading her to further their acquaintance in a less formal setting.

Thus their arrival provoked much discussion and no little disturbance, for along with the distinction afforded by her title, the Princess was a woman of considerable charm. Her exotic beauty was complimented by a lively disposition, and it did not take very long for the rest of the guests to be enamoured of their distinguished visitor.

All except for one that was, for despite Mrs. Darcy’s general lack of pre-possession no woman likes to be upstaged by another in their own home. Indeed, having always lived in the shadow of Jane, she would never begrudge women being in better looks than herself, nor could she find offence in another having a more pliant manner. The point of insult however lay not with any particular feature or action on her part, but originated in the fact that her own husband seemed suddenly to find the Princess infinitely more interesting than herself.

Not usually given to bouts of fractious temper, she bore it with novelty and good humour for several days, before a deep-seated irritation set in. And it was after a particularly trying evening where all the gentleman refused the usual diversions, beyond those which the Princess could afford that Elizabeth was provoked enough to complain to her husband.

“I hope the gentleman were well entertained this evening, I must say that I found it all exceedingly dull.”

“I found nothing amiss,” he replied with perfect unconcern.

“Only because you were all so well entertained fawning at the feet of our illustrious guest. I assure you that such an activity has not the same attraction for the ladies present as it does for the gentleman.”

At this Darcy paused in the midst of his disrobing and raised a questioning brow at her. “Surely you have noticed,” Elizabeth continued, “that Princess Bianca barely needs to lift a finger and she has every man in the vicinity rushing to do her bidding.”

“You are jealous,” he had then replied, in a manner that was not likely to placate her temper. A charge she immediately refuted with a vehement cry of “I am not.”

As this was stated with more force than was necessary under the circumstances, thereby confirming something of her husband’s suspicions she made an effort to calm herself and continued in a much more rational voice. “I simply cannot bear to see my husband making himself ridiculous admiring another woman.”

“She is an intriguing lady,” mused Darcy, “and her figure is very…..elegant”

Having at several times noticed the general focus of her husband’s admiration Elizabeth could only scoff in disbelief. “And what part of her bodice inspires the word elegant might I ask?”

Darcy blushed at having been so soundly exposed by his wife’s perceptiveness and attempted to excuse himself by stating, “I am not the only man to notice her figure – Bingley was just as appreciative I assure you.”

This was no consolation to Elizabeth. “I had not failed to notice that the entire contingent of male guests had fallen under the spell of her ‘elegance’,” she declared, “it does not lessen your crime however, nor does it inspire me to compromise my pets comfort for the sake of giving consequence to hers.”

Indeed, it was not merely her husband’s wayward admiration that her resentment was formed on – there was also a conflict of sorts between their respective pets. Princess Bianca had a feline, which she was very attached to, an acerbic creature, with a disposition that was not always wholly accommodating. It resided almost constantly in her lap and when it didn’t, it made itself more objectionable by taking a fancy to Mr. Darcy’s. There it would settle in comfortably for an idle hour, squirming and stretching as his long fingers caressed the soft fur of her underbelly, inducing a contented purr that was impossible to ignore. This would have been but a small irritation to add to the larger ones, had her own pet not found this felines company also a source of discordance. And therein lay the problem.

Daisy was a small terrier, a friendly little canine that had been gifted to Elizabeth by her husband on her 21st birthday, a present he had constantly regretted ever since. She was loyal to her mistress, certainly more so than she was to her master, whom she seemed to be forever tormenting. Despite this small failing, for Elizabeth fancied her husband was indeed making mountains out of molehills in his protestations, she loved her little pet to distraction. She followed Elizabeth everywhere and provided the excellent companion that she was intended to be.

It is however, a simple fact of life that cats and dogs don’t mix. Hence, when Princess Bianca arrived with ‘Princess Muffy’ in tow, fur was bound to fly. As the mistress of the house, Elizabeth understood her duty was in seeing to the comfort of her guests, but she could not so easily slight her companion for the sake of another. It rankled that Daisy’s loyalty should be repaid by a temporary banishment, and whilst the little dog had a very forgiving temperament Elizabeth fancied that the hurt feelings such an action would induce would be more than she could bear at the moment. The sight of her whimpering face and pleading cries would be a punishment of the worst kind.

An argument was bound to be the result, for Elizabeth was tenaciously resistant to her husband’s suggestion that Daisy may prefer the outdoors while the Princess was in residence. And after several days Elizabeth had still not given way. Thus when the real source of her vexation was outed, the question was raised again.

“Have you any other objections to the Princess besides the amount of attention she receives and the presence of her cat?” he had continued.

“None,” Elizabeth conceded, “how could I? She is charming, engaging and universally liked.”

“Can you not see then that your arguments are singularly irrational?”

“Certainly,” she replied, “but I believe a woman is allowed to indulge in a little feminine resentment every now and then, and need I remind you of a certain gentleman’s behaviour when his cousin had the presumption to admire the object of his love?”

“I appreciate your point Elizabeth,” Darcy replied with a frown, for he had not forgotten the irritation he had felt when Colonel Fitzwilliam had set about charming the very lovely Miss Bennet at Rosings a year before. “I will attempt to confine my attention then to she who is most deserving of it,” he continued, “my wife, whom I love to distraction and who should know that her many perfections shall forever be unsurpassed in my eyes.”

“That is all very well,” she grudgingly conceded as he took her into his embrace, “but see if you can be a little less accommodating to her cat, that purring really aggravates my nerves.”

Darcy smiled and could offer no better answer than to soothe her slighted vanity in a fashion that would best demonstrate the extent of his feelings. He kissed her, tenderly at first, but progressing quickly into the passion she well knew was so easily inspired. Elizabeth had no objection to this, for immediate grievances aside, she was not about to forego any instance of her husband’s generous affections for the sake of another woman and her fractious cat. Pets and problems were temporarily put aside in favour of more immediate concerns…….that was until Darcy could no longer ignore the sensation of sharp teeth and drool coming in contact with his toes. As he looked down, he was not at all surprised to see little Daisy, happily chewing on the end of one fine leather slipper.

“We really do need to do something about your dog, Elizabeth,” he sighed in exasperation, whilst attempting to wrench his foot form her mouth.

But Daisy was resolute in her desire for Darcy’s footwear and once she had her prize firmly between her teeth was unwilling to give it up. Although fond of his slippers Darcy was sensible enough to recognise the tenacity of the little terrier was equal at least to that of his wife, and so with some subtle manouvering, gently removed his foot.

“She is the most ill-behaved dog I have ever had the misfortune to know,” he complained as he watched her take her now successful kill and settle down happily in front of the fire, “she is almost deliberately bad.”

“I don’t know how you can think so William,” objected Elizabeth, “she has never been anything but perfectly behaved for me.”

“Your notion of troublesome is obviously very different to mine,” declared Darcy in disbelief. “She has dug up the rose beds three times, destroyed half the hot house chasing the mousing cats, and is forever terrorising the ducks. I know not where she keeps her collection of tail-feathers but I assure you she could stuff a quilt with the amount she has collected in the last year. She cannot remember one day to the next where she has buried her bones, she terrorises my hounds, and I hardly need mention that she nips at my heels every time I get within arms length of you!”

“She is protecting her mistress as any loyal pet should,” argued Elizabeth, “is that not why you bought her?”

“One of the reasons, but I hardly need to point out that you do not need protection from me madam.”

“Perhaps not, but she obviously thinks I do,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “Despite all her failings she has a very sweet disposition – she is not deliberately mean, just a little mischievous.”

“Her intentions do not lessen the impact of her crimes,” grumbled Darcy.

“That may be so, but she is my pet and I shall not give her up.”

Darcy sighed in exasperation. “You must see that she cannot have the run of the house whilst the Princess is here though?”

“Very likely true, but I am not much in the way of sacrificing anything for Princess Bianca at the moment,” replied Elizabeth defiantly, “why can her cat not sleep outside?”

“I have it on good authority that ‘Muffy’ cannot abide sleeping in the elements – she needs her creature comforts”

“Humph,” she replied in genuine annoyance.

“The dog, Elizabeth?” he queried after some moments of her silent contemplation.

“We shall see in the morning, I think.”

And with that Darcy knew the argument had been soundly dismissed, for Elizabeth had already removed her nightgown and was happily engaged in the office of doing the same by his apparel, while little Daisy remained contentedly occupied chewing on his now mangled slipper.

The next morning however, saw no resolution to the matter in question. Elizabeth was up before Darcy arose, and as he had anticipated when he looked out of her chamber window to the lawn below, she was gaily rambling about with Daisy happily in tow, the small dog contented to catch the occasional stick or chase any random butterfly that should chance in her path.

This was annoying, but after at least half a year of marriage, Darcy had become somewhat accustomed to the single-mindedness of his wife. In general she was a reasonable creature, but on some points where his opinion did not suit her way of thinking she would either employ every irrational argument she could muster, or become incredibly evasive. And indeed she proved to be just this over the next few days, whilst to his increasing vexation, Daisy was as tenaciously loyal as ever.

For his own part of the bargain, it was no trouble to redirect his wandering eyes back in the direction of his wife. His attention was indeed held only briefly by the Princess, for although she had many charms, she had not the talents that suited him. She did not play, she did not sing, she was singularly bad at cards (so appalling in fact that Darcy fancied her cat could have beaten her) and whilst she did improve her mind by extensive reading, this was not enough to hold his interest above that of his wife.

Others however, were more than happy to entertain her, and there was never any want of gentleman to do her bidding should she need something. Colonel Fitzwilliam was always very much at hand, but even he did occasionally sacrifice sedentary indoor pursuits in favour of a morning of hunting with the gentlemen. This left but the ladies to entertain her, and of course Mr. Collins, who was not a keen sportsman, and likewise unwilling to leave his dear wife’s side. Charlotte was not so complying however, for on these occasions she would often find opportunity for remembering some forgotten object in her room, and more often than not, could then be seen walking the lawns at the back of the house.

In the absence of his wife, and with a serious aversion to dogs, Mr Collins did then attach himself to the Princess with diligent regularity. It was an inconvenience she bore with patient good temper, no small feat, for along with the general offenses of his personality, Mr. Collins was disadvantaged by that want of height that would have given a lesser man both elevation and distinction. In this situation however, it manifested itself in a humbled solicitude, which left one with the impression that he was forever simpering towards the Princess’s bosom.

Her tolerance of his presence under these circumstances was further proof to Elizabeth of the genuine amiability of their guest, and she began to regret that she had thought so ill of her to begin with. Her feelings under these trials ventured even toward sympathy, and she did seriously begin to consider what could be done about the problem of their respective pets. While Daisy was generally quite happy to simply rest at Elizabeth’s feet, even she could concede that whenever they came in closer contact things were likely to get ugly. Indeed, the ever curious little dog had developed a habit of slowly approaching the Princess, in the hope of gaining some affection from the pleasant looking lady. But no sooner had she got within two feet of her object, and Muffy would let fly with a vehement hiss, immediately setting Daisy to growling. A standoff of sorts would ensue, before the cat, tiring of such activities settled back down to sleep. Daisy would then venture off to find other amusements.

Having done this several times whilst the cat resided in the lap of her husband, was not likely to give poor Daisy’s case for clemency much support. Indeed on one particular occasion, Muffy had dug her claws in so deeply whilst attempting to befright the little dog, Darcy feared permanent injury. It was a sensation he was not likely to forget in a hurry.

And she was not making allies amongst the other guests either. She attacked the tail of Mrs Hurst’s fox fur stole almost strangling the lady in her quest for submission; she leapt at Miss Bingley’s feather adorned bonnet knocking it askew; she took delight in licking Mr Hurst’s face when he dozed off in the salon of an afternoon. All of which left her extremely unpopular.

Whilst Elizabeth could acknowledge that she had excellent taste in her choice of victims, she was also sensible enough to realise she had a genuine problem. Her guests must come first, and it was with great reluctance that she eventually relegated poor Daisy to the doghouse.

If the Princesses cat had been a little less smug in enjoying this small victory over her counterpart, it would have made the situation much easier for Elizabeth to accept. As it was Darcy laughed at her inclination to attribute such vindictive feeling to the innocent feline, but despite his mirth she could not easily put aside the suspicion that the cat was gloating. More than once did she come across Muffy laying contentedly by a window casually licking her paws, while mere feet away and separated only by a pane of glass, poor Daisy yapped in frustrated excitement.

But if Daisy could not create mischief within the walls of Pemberley, then she was bound to cause it without. No longer able to chew on her master’s shoes, she turned her attention to what objects could be found in her new abode – the stables. After testing her mettle amongst the horse’s hooves, and coming off slightly worse for wear (it did not take her long to determine that the masters stallion was an equine not to be trifled with), she thought better of taking on beasts much larger than herself. Inanimate objects had therefore to be sought, and the ample supply of tack within the stables provided perfect opportunity and excellent exercise for her teeth. Needless to say, Darcy was not pleased to find distinctly canine incisor marks adorning his saddle the next day. Daisy was relegated to the washhouse, whereupon she set about rending several fine linen counterpanes, which she apparently mistook for some sort of previously unidentified wild animal.

With such contrary behaviour from Elizabeth’s pet and the constant presence of Mr. Collins, Mr. Darcy’s patience was growing thinner by the day, until at last he declared that Daisy had surpassed his supply of forgiveness. Regardless of how much she wished it otherwise, Elizabeth could not mistake the upshot of this statement - one more problem and she would have to be gotten rid of.

And so it was with a sinking heart that Elizabeth packed her carefully into the open phaeton as the party at large ventured out for a picnic. She sensed that it was a mistake to bring her along (for Muffy would surely be in attendance), but she could not in all conscience leave her behind. Having suffered between the enforced neglect of her mistress, and the near constant wrath of the master, the poor puppy had suffered too much in the last week. Besides which, recent history considered, she really couldn’t trust her to behave if left behind. At least this way she could keep an eye on her, should an opportunity for mischief present itself.

The picnic passed off pleasantly enough, Miss Bingley was attacked by a party of ants, Mr. Hurst gave himself a terribly lopsided sunburn during his afternoon nap, and the Princess and Colonel Fitzwilliam found much of common interest to keep them occupied. So much so that they disappeared for a short walk that kept them gone for more than two hours! Apparently it had not been a strenuous one however, for they returned still looking quite fresh, and in very good spirits. Something in the Colonel’s masculine swagger raised a suspicion that not much walking had been done, and if Elizabeth was not mistaken the lady appeared to be sporting a rather interesting rash on her neck, which certainly had not been there before.

In the intervening period however, Muffy had not moved from her position on the corner of a shaded woolen rug, excepting the occasional disdainful look she cast in the general direction of Daisy. If this was a taunt, it certainly achieved its desired effect – the little dog’s ears pricked and nose lifted instantly in response, and it was all Elizabeth could do to keep her in place. No further cause for alarm was to be had however and Darcy was forced to concede that perhaps she was not such a very bad dog after all.

As the afternoon drew on and the shadows lengthened, a return to the house began to be talked of as necessary. Mr. Collins, with a wife who would not trouble herself to talk to him, and a seemingly endless desire to be both useful and prompt, set about organizing a packing of picnic materials.

A random sausage was to be his undoing however, for when this leftover morsel from lunch presented itself to him, he popped it rather indelicately into his mouth.

Having rather underestimated the size of the offering, it dangled precariously from between his lips while he attempted to chew what was already within. Such a sight must surely be a prime temptation to a playful puppy, and in a moment of lapsed attention on Elizabeth’s part Daisy launched herself at Mr. Collins in an attempt to gain the other half of what was being carefully masticated.

Thrown off balance he fell heavily backwards, and managed only by a slight alteration in his progress to miss the Princesses cat. Expecting to land heavily, he was surprised to find a soft form cushioning his impact in the body of a slumbering Mr Hurst.

That gentleman, in finding himself the victim of an unprovoked attack, awakened with a howl and in the confusion of disturbed sleep threw his arms up heedlessly, knocking his wife senseless with an excellent left hook.

Mr Collins was then rewarded for his efforts in avoiding Muffy, in finding the feline firmly latched onto his leg, held fast by the application of her sharp claws onto the tender flesh of his thigh. If he could have howled in agony he would have, but with a mouth half-stuffed with sausage and a small dog keenly licking his face, all that could be achieved was a smothered moan.

To the onlookers it was a singularly chaotic sight – the unfortunate clergyman lay prone on the ground amidst the remnants of their lunch, a cat attached firmly to his leg, a small dog standing guard on his chest., and Mr Hurst flailing indignantly beneath him. Mrs Hurst remained completely oblivious to it all, for she remained comatose on the ground despite Miss Bingley’s attempts to revive her with her salts.

Had it been an accident at the hands of any other perpetrator Elizabeth would have found it singularly amusing. As it was however, she could only imagine the implications - this must surely be the end of poor Daisy.

Darcy, who had remained silent throughout, turned about to face her bearing an implacable expression, the meaning of which she could not quite fathom. He could be incredibly angry or amused whilst wearing such a look, she knew not which he suffered at that moment; even after months of marriage she had still not learnt how to discern his true feelings in a circumstance such as this. And as he continued to study her with his impenetrable gaze, Elizabeth mused over the fact that there were times when there was absolutely nothing worse than the silence of her husband. If he chose to exercise his right as master of the house, then there was really little she could do – poor Daisy was doomed.

At length he spoke, his voice calm and even as Elizabeth’s heart sank ever deeper in her chest. He said but a few words before turning and walking away. Shaking in dreaded anticipation of their meaning, it was some moments before she could comprehend what he had actually said.

“I believe Daisy has just granted herself a pardon – the dog may stay” had been his exact words, and as understanding registered, she looked up in surprise to see her husband seemingly occupied in readying the horses, whilst attempting to conceal a very sly amusement.

Mr. Collins meanwhile had progressed no further than his prostration on the ground, despite the fact that Daisy had since left her guard over him for more interesting prospects. It was with the greatest surprise that Elizabeth watched Daisy sit down contentedly at his feet to consume her half of the sausage, Muffy perched happily at her side, the expression she bore one of smug contentment.

I should like to report that the Princess and Colonel Fitzwilliam were married shortly thereafter, and lived a life of perfect contentment and happiness in the lap of every affluence. It was not to be however, for it soon became clear to the Colonel that her preference was actually a blue coat rather than a red one, and she was last seen in the company of a naval captain named Wentworth.

Her cat bore this change in situation not very well – Muffy had even less of a liking for life at sea. She eventually returned to Pemberley under a disappointed Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arm and remained there for some time, perfectly content to warm Darcy’s lap of a cool winter’s evening. Daisy bore this change with her usual good humour and continued her habit of nipping at the feline’s tail. This was not as intolerable for Darcy as we might think, for in focusing her attention on the cat it diverted Daisy’s mischief making away from himself, enabling him to regain that intimacy with his wife which had for a time been so inconveniently disturbed. How well Elizabeth bore Muffy’s habit of curling up in bed next to Darcy each night can only be imagined.


The End

Copyright held by Kerry - 2003