Lord Thomas spoke a word in jest
And Ellender took it ill:
“Oh, I’ll never marry me a wife
Against my family’s will.”
“If you will never wed thee a wife,
A wife will never wed thee!”
So he rode home to tell his mother
And knelt upon his knee.
“Mother, come Mother, come riddle to me.
Come riddle it all in one,
And tell me whether to marry Fair Ellender
Or bring the Brown Girl home?”
How could she know? he wondered. It made no sense, and he was a man who prided himself on common sense. But there it lay—Elizabeth Bennet knew his deepest secret; she had set him up. Every muscle in his body became taut, and Darcy fought to breathe naturally, but he managed to keep his expression constant. Despite his misery, she continued to sing:
“The Brown Girl gives you houses and land
Fair Ellender, she has none.
And there I charge you, take success
And bring the Brown Girl home.”
He dressed himself all in his best
His merry men all in white
And every town he passed through
They took him for a knight.
He went till he came to fair Ellender’s court
So loudly twirled at the pin,
There was none so ready as fair Ellender herself
To let Lord Thomas in.
“Bad news, bad news, Lord Thomas,” she said,
“Bad news you bring to me.
You’ve come to ask me to your wedding,
When I thought your bride to be.”
She turned around and dressed in white
Her sisters dressed in green,
And every town they rode through
They took her for some queen.