Elisheva Bennet, Sylph

Author’s Note: The following piece of flash fiction is my re-imagination of a small part of Jane Austen’s 1813 novel Pride and Prejudice (taken from Volume II, Chapter IX, pages 136-138 from the 2004 Oxford World’s Classics edition).[1] In my story, Elisheva Bennet signifies the delightfully complex character Elizabeth Bennet, and Wilhelm Arcy, the aloof romantic hero, Fitzwilliam Darcy. In using Austen’s novel as inspiration, I changed its form, or genre, from that of a work of historical fiction to one of fantasy fiction, maintaining loose fidelity to the source material.

It might interest you to know that Elisheva (אלישבע) is a Hebrew name, meaning ‘My God is an oath’ or ‘My God is abundance.’ Elizabeth is a variant of Elisheva. I thought the choice of Elisheva rather fitting for a Sylph, or an elemental spirit of the air, while maintaining the link to Austen’s Elizabeth.

Wilhelm is a German cognate (i.e., having the same linguistic derivation) of William. The name means will, desire, helmet (helm); again, rather fitting for a character who is wilful and aloof but protective (or heroic) of nature, as Fitzwilliam Darcy is. What of the surname, Arcy? It is a contracted form of the surname D’Arcy (from Bois-d’Arcy, a commune in north-central France (Île-de-France)) and the origin of the shorter name Darcy and other variants. Darcy means ‘of Arcy,’ i.e., from the region of Bois-d’Arcy–therefore, the source of my hybrid character, Wilhelm Arcy.

[1] Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004).

Elisheva Bennet—a Sylph and elemental spirit of the air—was aware of her expected place in the sacred order of things. Like all Sylphs, she presided over one of the four elements. Her kind exercised responsibility for air, the Undines for water, the Gnomes for earth, and the Salamanders for fire. She was a gentle creature, in essence, as was the natural way with Sylphs. However, unlike the conventional members of her race, she was unreserved about expressing her firm opinion on a good many matters; one might even say she was high-spirited. “It is without doubt,” said some with knowing expression and in whispered tones, “the result of Salamander elements in her bloodline at birth. She gets it from her father’s side, you know.” Gossip, it would appear, was not a human fallibility alone.

            To add fuel to the gossip’s fire, Elisheva had the most determined views about marriage, which she would offer as a panegyric to all who might listen. Not for her the traditional courting and union with another Sylph; nor even the seeking of a prospective partnering with those of Undine, Gnome or Salamander lineage. For she was disposed to deviating from the established societal norms of her race in many things—such as entertaining daydream flights of fancy about an elopement with a human; one (of absolute necessity in Elisheva’s mind) who had preserved inviolate his or her chastity to grant them the right to enjoy an intimate familiarity with a gentle spirit like hers. Within the races of the four elements, a relationship with the same sex—should that be desired—mattered not, for any discussion of such that harboured concern and cautioned constraint was considered the province of humans. It did not auger well for Elisheva, however, to so flagrantly disregard the growing tension within parts of the Sylph community among those who were not disposed to her unconventional relationship choices. For although humans—mortals—were tolerated in most matters, it was considered a serious transgression to offer oneself intimately to either gender of that race.

            With such high stakes, Elisheva desired a human match of flawless suitability. It troubled her, therefore, that she felt drawn instead to a human whose appeal appeared to conflict with her ambitions—Wilhelm Arcy. She had crossed paths with him several times at gatherings of the Festum Spiritualis et Mortalis—the Festival of the Spiritual and Mortal. Drawn to and repulsed by his enigmatic and mercurial character in equal measure, Elisheva found herself in an emotional impasse, her next course of action unclear.

            One evening, while lost in a meditative state over this human cause of her mental turmoil, the sound of the wind chimes at the portal of the small air temple at which she was staying stirred her, announcing a visitor. She had expected to find a fellow Sylph at the threshold, her mind conjuring the mental imagery that such a visit would provide through distraction and light relief. She was met, instead, with the solid presence of none other than Wilhelm Arcy—his customary uncompromising features softened by the dancing glow of fireflies circling the porch lantern.

            His speech was soft and earnest. “Good evening, Ms Bennet. I apologise for visiting at so late an hour, but I felt compelled to see you again—far from the prying eyes and wagging tongues of the Festum Spiritualis et Mortalis.”

            A measure of self-control swiftly regained, her civility compelled her to invite him in. Once they had exchanged the usual—but self-conscious—pleasantries, an awkward silence of many minutes ensued. It came with a quickening heartbeat, therefore, when Arcy broke that silence and expressed to Elisheva how ardently he admired her, leaving the recipient of his adorations nonplussed and speechless at first.

            “Oh, Mr Arcy, in what manner can you mean?”

            “Let me count the ways,” came the reply.