Fan fiction published 2008 by Lulu.
Crossover between Alice and Pride and Prejudice.
Months after his failed proposal to Elizabeth Bennet, Fitzwilliam Darcy reads a mysterious entry in his journal that reveals an extraordinary tale of an adventure he engaged in with Miss Elizabeth and Caroline Bingley. But there is something else tucked in the pages of his journal that leads him on another improbable adventure as he attempts to reclaim his memories and find a way to forge a happy ending for himself and a certain lady. But he is not alone on his journey…
Includes a (sort of) Jabberwocky:
Darcy gave his aunt what would have been a quelling glance, had it been directed at any other person, but it did not discompose her at all; that she fell silent was due entirely, as Darcy was perfectly aware, to the fact that she had said what she had to say – for the present. Still, Darcy glared at her as he cleared his throat and prepared to speak, but when his eyes happened to light upon the actual words of the proclamation he was meant to read, he was forced to clear his throat several more times to cover the laughter threatening to bubble from his lips. When he had finally composed himself, he began, in the most stentorian tones he could muster, to read his aunt’s proclamation.
“‘Twas brillig, and the die was cast,
Raging rhinos trumbled past,
First were first, and last were last,
A Princess in a tower.
One fish, two fish,
Green, and red, and blue fish,
Clams can never grant your wish,
A stony, sconey bower.
To go or stay, and stay or go,
Tortles are the ones who know,
Give them sixpence and they grow,
From terror do not cower.
Call me Ishmael or Jack,
Never saw a fribble quack,
If I did, the moon would crack,
Come sun or misty shower.
Wriggling, wiggling, little tweel,
Crush you underneath my heel,
Only whifflers come to squeal,
A most impressive dower.
Are you a pirate or a pea,
Noodler, poodler, wand’ring flea,
It is all the same to me,
A vengeful bride is sour.
Twinkle, twinkle, little horse,
Speak to wimbles in their course,
Eat lemons from the Nile’s source,
Answer not with a glower.
Shakespeare is a funny name,
Hop o’cricks make lawful game,
Ride a gnargle if it’s tame,
Persuade her with a flower.
Stop and look and count to six,
Dancing snickles, bouncing glicks,
Right foot, left foot, walking sticks,
Be thee a sincere vower.
Eenie, zeenie, miney, me
Who shall be Queen of Pemberley?
The one who is your destiny,
Upon your wedding hour.”
Silence descended upon those within the tent when Darcy had finished reading, to be broken finally by what Darcy mistook for a trumpet blast until he realized it was actually his aunt, blowing her nose in the same lacy handkerchief she had used to wipe the slime from the scroll. Darcy was taken aback to see that tears were running down Lady Catherine’s face. She began to applaud, and within seconds Collins and all of the avian retainers followed suit, creating a strange, ruffling, slapping chorus of his aunt’s tribute.
On Lulu: Darcy.