Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Jump to new as of November 30, 2003
Posted on Tuesday, 30 September 2003
Over the next week the residence of Netherfield found themselves involved in a progression of adventures with Elizabeth acting as though she were the child Lizzie. And although the bandage on her head made everyone keenly aware that this woman had been seriously injured, Lizzie did not behave as one recovering from a head wound. She made no comment to any pain related to the accident, and retained only the faculties of a child wishing to be up and about exploring. It was quite an education for all of them.
Caroline avoided involving herself with either of the Bennets as much as possible. But she kept her eye on them from a distance, especially at those times when they accosted Mr. Darcy in their activities. She suspected that Jane was more devious than first noted, and seemingly wished to attach Eliza to Mr. Darcy whenever he was about. Somehow she would have to put a stop to that.
Mr. and Mrs. Hurst watched at first with less than enthusiastic interest, but changed to more attentiveness as the Bennet sister's stay was extended.
Even Darcy was not immune to the magic that was part of childhood. Having only his knowledge of his sister's behavior when both were still young he, like all the rest seemed to gravitate toward Lizzie. Although it was disconcerting to witness the woman he'd injured and held so closely in his arms, now behave as though she were a small child was also at times quite diverting. And he was often times amused by her actions until his mind wondered if she would ever recover. This thought would be followed by the guilt of his being the cause of her regression.
Jane tried to keep Lizzie's exuberance in check while entertaining her after their father's visit. Bingley was the first of the household to be exposed to Lizzie's excitable enthusiasm for learning and knowing things. Having never been around children he was fascinated by her antics, and enjoyed his time with her and her sister. He came upon them one morning in the parlor where Jane was trying to teach Lizzie how to tie a bow with her ribbon.
"You see how the ends cross, Lizzie, and then this one goes behind to tighten? Then you loop one end and pull the other end around and behind like so." Jane patiently watched as Lizzie attempted the beginning again.
"Good morning to you both," Bingley said cheerfully as he approached.
"And to you, Mr. Bingley." Jane's soft voice sounded sweetly in his ears. He sat in the chair beside the couch they occupied curious at their activity.
"What pursuit are you ladies about at the moment?"
"I am attempting to show Lizzie how to tie a bow with her ribbon, but she seems to be having difficulty with the second part." He watched for a moment as Lizzie struggled with holding the one loop while trying to go around and through the middle to form the bow.
"May I?"
Jane nodded, and Bingley took the ribbon from Lizzie, and began to tie. "I see you have mastered the beginning part, Miss Lizzie. While do we not repeat it in the second part as well?"
After he had crossed the ends and pulled one from behind to tighten the first part of the knot, he then looped both ends and repeated the first step with them making a bow.
It was not only Lizzie who was fascinated with his technique, but Jane too. She laughed softly at how simply he had accomplished what Lizzie found so difficult for her still uncoordinated but grownup hands.
"Again, Miser Bingby," insisted Lizzie.
He pulled the ribbons free of the bow and repeated it several times before she made an attempt. After a few failures she finally caught on, and smiled triumphantly when the bow stayed in her ribbon.
"Very well done, Miss Lizzie," praised Bingley, and he smiled as he pulled the ends free again. "Can you tie it again?" She smiled back and nodded, going to work with the ribbon, now taking less time to accomplish the task.
"That is a very good bow, Miss Lizzie. You are quite accomplished now, and will use it often I am sure."
He offered to take the two ladies on a tour of the house. Lizzie was obedient when it came to not touching everything her eyes came upon. Jane knew of Lizzie's inquisitive nature, however, and of her wanting to know about all things at once and to being very vocal in her inquiries.
Bingley was quite impressed at first by all her questions as she and Jane joined him on a stroll down the hallway. He answered all put before him of the decorations, the paintings, who all those people were in the pictures, the rugs and how they got all the colors in them, the windows and how did the sunshine came through, his footwear, his favorite color of coat, that even his mellow temper was tested with the forever, "why?" that Lizzie seemed to ask at every turn.
Finally Bingley said slightly louder than normal, "I really have no idea, Miss Lizzie, but I shall endeavor to find out."
And even the child-like Lizzie was perceptive enough in reading tones, and became silent for the remainder of the walk down the hallway. Jane remained quiet likewise, but could not help a small smile at how gently he admonished Lizzie. Clearly this was a man who for the most part enjoyed children about him, and merely needed more experience to perfect his skills.
Jane and Lizzie came down to the parlor later that morning for a few moments to find Mr. Bingley. Jane asked him if he had any picture books that they could have use of while they were in residence. Lizzie was behind them seated at the desk practicing her bows with a hand full of ribbons. When they left the parlor and were returning to Lizzie's room, Jane asked where Lizzie's ribbons were. She only shrugged.
Later that afternoon Caroline joined Bingley in the parlor. "There you are, Charles. I have decided to write to Mary St. James to see if she would be in ton, for I am dreadfully bored here, and wish to shop for a few days. What in the world?"
While talking she had been attempting to pull the chair from the desk in order to sit down. But the legs of the desk and the chair were bound up with colorful ribbon bows.
"Charles, what is all this?" Caroline asked in angry fascination, pulling again at the chair.
Bingley can barely keep his countenance as he squatted down to undo all the ribbons to free the chair of its prison.
"There you are, Caroline." He held out the now free chair for her to sit in, his face innocent and making no mention of the ribbons in his hands.
"You may write to Miss St. James if you wish, but I shall not be able to accompany you to ton while I have guests."
"Guests? If you mean the Bennet sisters," Caroline sneered, "I think this Dr. Smyth is very much in error if he still feels they cannot be sent home."
"Caroline, we have already talked of this, and it has been decided that they are to stay."
"Well, I can not agree to it. Mr. Darcy must also find it quite tiresome. I can have Mr. Darcy accompany me in your stead."
"You will do no such thing. That would be highly improper, and neither he nor I would never agree to that."
"Then I will have Louisa and Hurst take me to their townhouse."
"You may ask them, of course, however, I would wish for you not to depart until the end of the week."
"If you insist, Charles, though I cannot see the point in waiting."
"Then I shall leave you to your letter."
And Bingley turned to depart from the room shaking his head at his sister's continuing vexed behavior. But as he walked down the hallway he stared down at the colorful array, and proceeded to laugh aloud as he fingered the strips of fabric in his hand. Lizzie had indeed learned how to tie a bow, it seemed. He wondered what other mischief he was to witness before she had recovered her memories.
He sighed at that thought, for though the doctor was hopeful, even Bingley's cheerful nature sometimes doubted Lizzie's ability to remember her past. He also wondered how her sister's life would change should Jane become Lizzie's permanent caregiver. Would she be allowed to marry and have a family of her own? Surely, he thought, some solution could be worked out.
Exuberant was the word now attributed to Lizzie when many a surprised servant or maid who happened upon one lady chasing the other down the hall. Jane ran after Lizzie finally catching her hand and admonishing her for such misbehavior amid fits of childish giggles.
At witnessing one such incident Mrs. Ellis commented to the butler, "Forbes, how long has it been since hearing a child's laughter within these walls?"
The elderly man stared down the hallway watching Jane begin to giggle likewise, and the corners of his old mouth turned up. "Quite a while now, madam. It is a sound to warm an old man's heart." But he added tentatively, "Although it would be more pleasant if the laughter came from a true child instead of one reverted to by an accident."
Mrs. Ellis nodded as they both watched Jane and Lizzie now walking further down the hallway hand in hand. And both staff members wondered if the young lady would again come to her senses in due time.
Thinking that outside might be the best location for some of Lizzie's overabundance of energy, Darcy suggested that Bingley and Jane begin each morning by taking her on a stroll through the gardens. Lizzie relished this time, wandering from plant to plant and bush-to-bush smelling and caressing blossom after blossom, wanting to know what had changed overnight.
Bingley smiled at this morning ritual that Lizzy participated in, never seeming to tire of the joy that seemed to spring from her. "She reminds of a humming bird flitting from flower to flower."
Jane nodded. "She loves the gardens at Longbourn. There are so many herbs and a great variety of roses there. When she was an actual child of five Mama was hard pressed to keep her from it."
"I wish there were more of an abundance here for her enjoyment," he sighed. "If I stay beyond the lease I had thought perhaps to extend the garden to broaden its variety."
"That would be a pleasant addition for you, I am sure," Jane responded softly, agreeing to his plan which he now knew he would implement.
Their conversation was interrupted when Lizzie hurried up to them and pointed out into the yard at something she had neglected to note when out previously. "Siser, what is that?"
"It is a swing. You sit upon the board, and hold the ropes and go back and forth. It is a wonderful amusement, Lizzie."
They walked out towards it, Lizzie timidly touching the ropes and seat.
"Would you like me to show you, Lizzie?" Asked Jane. Lizzy nodded.
Jane sat in the swing and pumped her arms and legs to begin a gentle swinging motion. "You see how pleasant it is, Lizzie. Would you like to try?" When Lizzie hesitated, Jane invited her to sit beside her, for the seat was wide enough to fit two adults. Tentatively Lizzie obeyed and smiled with the gentle rocking motion. "Do you like to swing, Lizzie?" She nodded. Coming to a gentle halt Jane asked, "Would you like to sit and swing by yourself?" When Lizzie, though still timid gave signs that she did indeed wish it so, Jane said softly, "I shall be directly beside you so that no harm come to you."
Her gentle voice and kind eyes made Lizzie less fearful to try, and she nodded. Seating her gently on the swing, and putting her hands about the rope, Bingley pushed her very gently and Jane remained in front encouraging her to hold on to the rope, Lizzie timid at first, allowed this new activity.
"Not too much, Miser Bingby," Lizzie whispered in a childish voice as her grownup face turned to stare at him. And if he was disconcerted at this oddity of circumstance he did not display it.
"I promise I shall not," he whispered back gently pushing her, hardly moving the swing.
"Can you feel the wind on your face, Lizzie?" Jane smiled and Lizzy closed her eyes and smiled too when the gentlest breeze caressed her cheeks.
"Yes, siser," she said smiling. "It is soft like my pillows."
Bingley pushed just the smallest amount faster, making sure he could catch her should she become frightened.
"Hmmm," Lizzie sighed, unafraid now, delighting in the ride with her two trusted grownup friends.
"You are enjoying this, are you not, Lizzie?" Jane asked smiling, happy that her sister was amused with this diversion.
"Oh, yes, siser!"
Bingley pushed a little harder to lift the swing just slightly higher in the air between he and Jane. The gentle amusement went on for a good quarter hour as they pushed her further in small increments until they were both now just a few feet from her. Lizzie began relishing the increasing wind blowing ribbons of her bonnet back and forth.
Finally, Lizzie said "higher, Miser Bingby," and Lizzy began to remember the proper use of her own arms and legs to propel herself as Bingley and Jane stood close and watched her.
"Siser Jane, I can fly like a bird! You want to see? I show you." And she let loose of the ropes and hopped gently from the swing seat into Jane's waiting arms, both laughing as the surprised but smiling Bingley looked on.
Darcy who had been watching the interlude from a window smiled as he shook his head realizing that even as a child this Miss Elizabeth must have been fearless. Later he would find out how true that thought was.
Early one morning when Lizzy awakened her sister before any others of the household was astir. Jane thought that Lizzie was now returning to her habit of rising with the dawn. "Ohhh," moaned Jane. "Lizzie, it is too early. Go back to bed."
"Can I be with you, siser?"
Jane stared at this grownup Lizzie, but heard the tone of a child who perhaps had had a bad dream and wished reassurance. And smiling, Jane lifted the counterpane to allow Lizzie in the bed beside her. They snuggled next to each other, and Jane waited for Lizzie to say more. When she did not, Jane asked, "Why are you up so very early, Lizzie? Are you all right?"
Lizzie nodded and said unconvincingly. "I just missed you, siser."
To this Jane sighed, "You know you can tell me anything, Lizzie."
Lizzie nodded.
"Did you have a dream that still troubles you, Lizzie?"
Lizzie hugged her sister, and Jane felt her trembling, and tightened her embrace. "Lizzie, it was just a dream. Nothing can harm you now. It is all right to talk of it."
As Lizzie snuggled closer to Jane, she closed her eyes. "I was in a big house...and it was dark, and people were shouting. I was so afraid...and then someone picked me up, and I felt warm, but...you were not there, siser-"
"Shhhh, I am here now. You are safe, Lizzie." Jane's gentle voice comforted her sister as no one else could.
"Oh, siser, I want to go home to Mama and Papa and Mary and-"
"Mary?"
"Yes, siser, I miss her even though she still acts like a baby." Jane merely nodded.
But Jane realized that something else must had happened in the night to have some of Lizzie's memories begin to return. Jane smiled at this hopeful sign, and hugged her sister tightly, and when Lizzie said no more of other memories, Jane changed the subject. "Since we are not to sleep any longer would you like me to tell you a story?"
"Oh, yes, siser."
Stroking Lizzie's long brown hair, Jane began to tell a "Once upon a time" fairy tale of how the prince and princess lived in a grand castle ending in a happy ever after.
"Just like you and your miser Bingby." Jane blushed.
"Oh, Lizzy. He is not my Mr. Bingley." Jane smiled, her eyes unfocused at the thought.
"He likes you, siser."
"He is very nice, is he not, Lizzie?"
"Yes, he can be your prince, and you can be happy ever after!" Lizzie teased, giggling.
Jane shook her head and sighed smiling. "Go back to sleep, Lizzie." And finally at ease now, Lizzie did return to slumber in the arms of her dear sister.
But that afternoon found Bingley and Jane on the couch with Lizzie in between. Susan had found a children's book from Netherfield's now abandoned nursery, and both Jane and Bingley were each helping to hold it open in Lizzie's lap. As the story progressed Lizzie interjected her childish opinions, unaware that whenever Bingley and Jane both tried to turn the page and their fingers touched they smiled at each other. Jane blushed and Bingley smiled and cleared his throat.
Much to the chagrin of Caroline, both Louisa and Mr. Hurst were slowly growing at odds with her determination to have Lizzie ousted from Netherfield. And after a private conversation came to an agreement to be more in allegiance with Charles at trying to aid Lizzy in remembering. Coming upon them alone in the dining room, Caroline again accosted them.
"Oh, Louisa," she began in a moan. "I slept so dreadfully last night, thinking of how the house is overrun with those Bennet girls and the father coming at all hours."
Mr. and Mrs. Hurst exchanged looks, and Louisa stirred her coffee. "Caroline, Mr. Bennet has only had one visit to Netherfield after his initial one to know of his daughter's injuries. I hardly call that coming at all hours."
"You know what I mean," Caroline whined, sitting beside her sister, and snapping her fingers for the servant to pour her a cup of coffee. She stirred in three lumps of sugar and sighed. "I find it difficult to abide all this fuss over people with such low connections. What could Charles be thinking?" She tasted her coffee, made a face, and added more sugar.
"Your brother is a neighborly type, and goes out of his way to please," Mr. Hurst pointed out as he continued to devour the food on his plate. She looked at him in disgust, and when the servant brought the platter of breakfast meats she waved him off in equal disgust. She grabbed a scone arrayed on the table platter and began to cover it with marmalade.
Ignoring her brother-in-law's comment, she again addressed her sister. "But Louisa, even you seemed determined to aid Charles in this stupid idea of being charming to these rural nobodies."
Louisa sighed and said pointedly to her sister, "It is not in Charles's nature to act anything but congenial, Caroline. I am merely supporting his decision."
To this Caroline snorted. "Charles is just infatuated with Jane Bennet, and is acting thus because of her. The mother is the fortune hunter behind this plan. I am sure of it."
"Whatever his motives, Caroline, it is Charles's decision to have them remain here under his protection, and we are merely his guests."
"We are his family, and should have a say in what goes on here," protested Caroline.
"You are overstepping your position in all this, Caroline," Mr. Hurst joined the argument. "Charles is the master of this estate, and you can not but voice an opinion, not make the decisions for him." He ended this statement with shoving more food into his mouth.
Again ignoring her sister's husband as best she could Caroline continued to make her addresses to her sister. "But I have noticed even you, Louisa, are thawing in your resistance of having them under our roof. How can you of all people act this way? Surely you would agree with me on this matter of having them removed to their own home."
Louisa sighed, and admitted it was so. "I have come to enjoy Jane's sweet company, Caroline. And the way she dotes on Lizzie is admirable." Louisa added for emphasis, "and the sooner she is recovered, Caroline, the sooner she can be returned to her own home."
To this statement Caroline could not argue with, and fell silent in sulk. She was not about to aid in this country bumpkin's recovery. She viewed herself too high in society to bother with anything so sordid. But she had to find a way to get the girl from the house to be free to have Mr. Darcy all to herself again.
It was at the end of the first week when Darcy, Bingley and Jane had taken Lizzie out early in the morning as they now thought she was well enough to venture from the gardens and around the house. Lizzie responded to the sunshine and they could tell how happy it made her to be outside. She picked up a stick and began to drag it behind as they walked.
About the same time one of Bingley's large mastiffs scampered towards her hoping to be played with. When she saw its approach she stood quite still for a moment, and both Bingley and Darcy thought she was frightened of the large dog. Bingley gave a command. "Eros, halt! Eros, sit!"
The well-trained animal obeyed at once just a few yards from Lizzie looking at her expectantly. Cautiously she neared his giant head, held her hand out for him to sniff and know she was friendly. As she felt his warm breath and soft tongue on her hand, she began to laugh aloud, and petted the animal's head. "Nice dog," she sighed and hugged him around the neck, rubbing his ear.
The dog in turn let out a soft groan of contentment at her attention. All three adults were relieved that she had such a natural rapport with God's creatures, and that the dog was so well trained. Bingley showed Lizzie how to throw a stick commanding the dog to fetch, which he did with the utmost enthusiasm, bounding down the path to retrieve the stick and run back to the group.
And upon its return Lizzie tried to do likewise as Mr. Bingley by first trying to take the stick from the dog. Eros had other ideas, however, and a tug of war ensued for the stick. The dog, being almost twice her weight*, easily pulled her to her knees. Darcy stepped in then commanding the dog to sit and drop the stick, which it did instantly, but neither Lizzie nor the dog knew what was the matter. Darcy held out his hand then and helped her to her feet once more. When she looked into his face she noticed he was not smiling.
With Jane's help Lizzie brushed off the grass from her dress. "Lizzie, are you uninjured?"
"Yes, I am fine, siser. Do not fuss so over me!" Both Jane and Darcy noted her annoyance at being treated like an invalid.
"You could have been harmed, Miss Lizzie."
Lizzie noticed Darcy's continued scowl, and didn't understand if he was more upset with her or at the dog.
Darcy said softly, "Miss Lizzie you are acting too boisterous for one recovering from an injury, rough housing with the dog like a boy. You must act more like a young lady."
"Yes, sir, Mister Darcy," she replied. She still did not understand his reasoning, but kept it in her mind to think on later.
*http://www.fila.org/dred.htm for a picture of one of these horses, I mean dogs.
After having been at Netherfield for several days, this morning began quietly as Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley had yet to arise. Mr. Hurst and Darcy had withdrawn to the library for a quiet few hours of reading; a common pastime that the younger man found amazing about the older. Darcy had never before noticed Hurst's proclivity toward reading. But when Hurst began discussions remarking on various authors or literature, Darcy was pleasantly surprised by some of Hurst's insights. Both men being rather taciturn in nature, never made it a point to pursue a regular meeting for debate, but merely enjoyed the occasional remarks.
Jane brought Lizzie in to show her some of the books Mr. Bingley had collected. Both Darcy and Mr. Hurst looked up from their tomes. Lizzie's eyes lit up at the walls of books when Jane opened the door.
"Oh! Look at all the books, Lizzie."
And before Jane could stop her, Lizzie sat down on the floor in front of the lower shelves and began to pull books out, opening one after another as though searching for something until a pile was heaped beside her.
"Lizzie! No! What are you doing?" Jane began her chastisement.
Mr. Hurst quipped, "It seems the young lady has a great interest in reading, Miss Bennet."
Darcy suppressed a smile and rose to approach the two, as Jane knelt down trying to keep Lizzie from removing yet more books. "I said no, Lizzie. You must not take more from the shelf. Books are not playthings, Lizzie. We must put them all back where they belong-"
A shadow came over them just then, and Lizzie stopped her frantic search, and they both had to look very high to meet Mr. Darcy's eyes.
"I am so sorry, Mr. Darcy, for disturbing you and Mr. Hurst. I merely wanted Lizzie to see the library. I had no idea she would do such a thing." Jane began re-shelving the books without any regard if she was placing them back correctly.
Mr. Hurst teased, "Tell her she may have as many as she wishes. I doubt my brother has read more than a handful."
Realizing his height was imposing, Darcy squatted down to be at Lizzie's eye level before he asked, "Miss Lizzie, for what are you searching?"
"Mister Bingby said he had picture books."
His calm voice stated, "I can assure you there are no books here with pictures."
Lizzie raised her eyebrows and gave him a look that told him she already now knew that. For an instant he thought what was before him was a spoiled exasperated adult who was showing her pique toward him for not having the thing she wished. Her stare was one of such intensity, but he was her equal in that area. Then he found himself smiling as he was reminded that this was a child in a grownup's body sitting upon the floor trying to stare him down.
Calmly he asked, "Did Mr. Bingley state where these books could be found in the library, Miss Bennet?" Jane stopped shelving the books and stared into his face.
Jane hesitated as she thought on the conversation with Mr. Bingley. "No, Mr. Darcy, he did not mention a specific shelf or section. And now that I recall his words, he never actually stated that they could even be found in the library. I just assumed that they would be here."
"Perhaps there would be a clue if you can recall his exact words, Miss Bennet," suggested Mr. Hurst.
Jane thought a moment, and then said, "Sir, I believe his words were 'I should have some picture books for Miss Lizzie to view'. Yes, I think that was his exact wording."
"Ah," was Darcy's only reply, which confused Jane.
"Sir?"
Mr. Hurst piped in. "If I know my brother, Miss Bennet, I take his words to mean he has none at present, but will purchase them at his earliest convenience. Would you say that is a fair assessment, Darcy?"
"Quite," said Darcy in agreement, re-shelving the last of the books, and standing once again. He looked down at Lizzie still sitting on the floor, a deep scowl on her face.
"No picture books?" She was just on the verge of pouting when she saw him shake his head. Then a sudden insight caused her face to change to one of delight and expectation. "Are there any story books?"
She reached her hands up and both Jane and Darcy took one each to pull her up to standing. Darcy released hers immediately, but continued to think on her question. Turning to the shelves behind him, he viewed each book searching for ones he had seen not long before, and pulled two volumes from amongst 'Chaucer, Milton, and Marlowe'. He handed them to Jane who read the titles.
"Aesop's Fables? And Children's and Household Tales?" She opened the first and smiled as she began to read the familiar story of the tortoise and the hare.
Darcy nodded. "I think those should do for the time being for Miss Lizzie to 'read', Miss Bennet."
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. These are perfect." Jane gave him a wonderful smile at his kindness, and Lizzie noticed this, and knew somehow he had supplied them with what she had asked.
"You are most welcome, Miss Bennet. I am happy I could be of service."
"Oh, Lizzie, I have read and enjoyed many of these stories that are so filled with visions we have no need of pictures. I shall have such fun reading them to you."
"I can read them myself, siser," stated Lizzie indignantly. Jane stared at her, but remained quiet in her thoughts.
"You must be very accomplished then," teased Mr. Hurst. "I have never met a child of five with the ability to read."
"I am almost eight, sir!" Lizzie replied still indignant. All three adults paused before Mr. Hurst thought to give a remark to her statement.
"My mistake, Miss Lizzie. Had I known you were of such an advanced age I would not have insulted you."
"Humph!"
Jane merely said, "Come, let us go to your room to begin."
She and Lizzie turned to depart the library when Lizzie turned around again to the gentlemen and curtseyed. "Thank you, Mister Darcy."
"Enjoy reading, Miss Lizzie."
Darcy stared at the door after the two ladies had left when Hurst made the reply, "Darcy, do you not find it most intriguing which of the two of them made the suggestion?"
"I do indeed."
Darcy had noticed Jane's bewilderment at Lizzie's statement of now being able to read. And grateful of any change for the better, he did wondered how it was that in this short duration she now seemed to have progressed to an older age. Having had so many doubts since the accident occurred, he was now cautiously optimistic of her recovery.
Posted on Friday, 3 October 2003
Following several days of having meals in her room, Mr. Bingley remarked that he would like to have Lizzie join them at the table for the noonday meal. Luncheon was an interesting circumstance with Lizzie seated beside Jane. An array of china, silverware and glasses was set before each diner, and Lizzie seemed at a loss as to which item to pick up first.
Louisa, seated on Lizzie's other side decided to help, and whispered, "Lizzie, do not fear." Lizzie bit her lower lip, but nodded.
Bingley, Darcy, and Caroline commenced talking of news of the day and not paying attention to Lizzie for the moment. She watched the first course of soup being served, and Louisa looked at Lizzie and picked up the soupspoon. Lizzie did likewise, watching how Louisa set the spoon in the soup bowl and pushed it away from her lifting the spoon to her mouth.
Lizzie tried to do the same, but when she managed the spoon into her mouth she cried, "Hot!" and coughed into her napkin, while Jane helped Lizzie with her water goblet.
All conversations ceased as attention was turned toward Lizzie. Caroline let out an exasperated sigh at Darcy's change of focus from her to this nobody causing a ruckus. Bingley bend his head down in his attempt to control his laughter. Mr. Hurst eyes twinkled as he sipped his wine, but remained silent and he watched his wife's attentions to this grownup Lizzie acting so child-like.
"There's no harm done, my dear," Louisa whispered. "Just put less soup on your spoon and gently blow on it to cool it," Louisa added, demonstrating.
Lizzie drank more of her water, eyes wide. Finally calming down she looked down at her hands in her lap and sighed. Then smoothing her napkin on her lap once more she looked at the flavorful soup in the bowl, biting her lower lip wondering if she should make a second attempt.
When she leaned in to glance down toward the end of the table, Darcy had once again led Bingley in conversation with Caroline hanging on his every word. Without pausing in his conversation Darcy managed to glimpse down to where Lizzie sat, and he smiled at her and she nodded back, taking up her spoon once again. She blew on the spoon and now was glad she could enjoy the tasty soup.
During the remainder of dinner, however, after having tasted tiny bits of some foods on her plate, Lizzie merely moved things around with her fork, refusing to eat more. Only two people at the table actually noticed. Darcy glanced at Jane, but both remained silent at Lizzie's display, unsure if she merely didn't care for the food or was not hungry. Both sighed deciding to wait to see which it was. Lizzie never mentioned being hungry, so Jane did not insist she eat more.
The next morning Mr. Hurst found a very grownup Lizzie playing under the dining room table amongst all the chair legs. When Jane needed a few moments respite Lizzie's constant companion now , the maid Susan, watched while sitting in a chair by the wall.
He asked, "Miss Lizzie, what are you doing?"
Her child-like voice stated, "I am playing fort. I have toy soldiers Mister Bingby gave me."
"Is that not a boy's game, Miss Lizzie?"
"Yes, boys taught me how to play when I visited them."
"Who were they?"
"Joshua and John. They live with Charlotte. I wanted to play fort, so they showed me how. Do you want to play too, Mister Hurse? I will give you some of my soldiers."
After very little thought Mr. Hurst sighed and knelt on his pudgy leg, finally managing to sit down under the table with Lizzie. As he huffed and puffed from such unaccustomed exertion, she generously gave him an equal amount of toy soldiers to command.
Mr. Hurst told Lizzie, "England has real soldiers to defend itself when countries go to war, Miss Lizzie."
"Why do they go to war, Mister Hurse?"
"Usually its political." She knitted her brow at this statement. Seeing that she did not understand him he tried to explain. "Usually one country has something another country wishes, and they go to war to obtain it."
"Like a...take away game?"
Mr. Hurst thought a moment and then nodded. "Yes, I suppose it could be viewed as such. Sounds rather silly when you say it."
Just then Mrs. Hurst walked passed the door, and hearing voices she entered the room and turned her head sideways to make sure of what she was witnessing. Yes, it was two grown people beneath the dining table, and one of them was her husband. Her voice stayed calm. "Mr. Hurst, what are you doing?"
"We are playing fort, my dear" Here he paused then asked, "Care to join us?"
"Oh, I think not, Mr. Hurst," came her lightened response, a smile spreading on her face. "I was wondering if Lizzie would like me to teach her how to play a song on the piano."
"Music?" Lizzie sat straight up and her eyes brightened at the promise of music, and she hurriedly struggled to remove herself from the chair legs to escape her fort.
"I guess we are done here then," Mr. Hurst sighed, and slowly pushed the chair away to allow the grownup Lizzie to remove herself from her fort.
With much slower deliberate moves Mr. Hurst pulled himself out from under the table, with his wife trying hard not to laugh aloud. With a silent exchange that married couples have, Mrs. Hurst was assured that her husband was well.
She took Lizzie's hand and they left to find the music room. Mr. Hurst watched his wife, Lizzie, and the maid's departure, and then looked down at a toy soldier in each of his hands. He smiled and shook his head.
Both sitting down on the piano bench Mrs. Hurst asked Lizzie, "Do you have a piano at home?"
"Yes, but Mama will not let me play on it."
"Why is that?"
"She says I play too loud."
"Show me how you play then."
Lizzie laid her hands heavily on the keys raising a cacophony throughout the room and indeed the entire house for the few seconds it took Mrs. Hurst to grab Lizzie's hands from the keys stating, "I can see why your mother has kept you from it. That 'tune' was not very harmonious. Let me play a song for you."
And Mrs. Hurst began to play a quiet, simple song that was the opposite of what Lizzie had 'played'. And if someone could be bewitched into silence and immobility, this was the case for Lizzie who simply watched Mrs. Hurst's fingers moved over the keys to create the wonderful music, trying to remember why it sounded so familiar. When Mrs. Hurst concluded the song and stayed her fingers, the notes reverberated and lingered in the room, and both she and Lizzie smiled.
"Did you like that, Lizzie?"
She nodded and almost laughed at the wonderment the magic of music had over her.
"Would you like me to teach you to play something?"
Lizzie nodded, and Mrs. Hurst stood up and from behind her, helped Lizzie place her fingers appropriately over the keys, and then placed her own fingers over Lizzie's. Gently she pushed both hers and Lizzie's fingers down on the correct keys to play a simple melody. When the short song ended, Lizzie insisted, "Again, please, Misus Hurse."
And Mrs. Hurst played the song again, gently pushing Lizzie's fingers down under hers.
"Again, again."
And for several more times, Mrs. Hurst patiently helped Lizzie play the melody to its conclusion. When the notes faded into the air, Mrs. Hurst removed her hands from atop Lizzie's, but Lizzie didn't remove her hands from the keys, but began to play the melody on her own. Mrs. Hurst gasped in surprise as Lizzie began slowly repeating the song. And with each note, she became more confident, and played with more feeling until the song ended and the notes faded from the room.
"That was delightful, Lizzie," Mrs. Hurst stated, realizing how bright she must have been as a child. But Lizzie did not respond, but stared unfocused. Mrs. Hurst watched in fascination a Lizzie sat with her hands posed on the keys, her fingers moving over them, touching several to listen to the tone, searching for the correct ones. While Mrs. Hurst continued to watch, she knew that somehow she had stirred some past memory for Lizzie.
Slowly, searching, Lizzie finally found the keys she had been seeking, and her hands posed again. As if by some magical spell, Lizzie closed her eyes and began to play, haltingly at first, but Mrs. Hurst still recognized the melody as Lizzie repeatedly played the first eight measures of 'Beethoven's Fuer Elise' from memory. Mrs. Hurst began to cry at hearing the beautiful music, thinking perhaps its wonderful refrains had propelled Lizzie back to adulthood.
But when Lizzie heard sobs she stopped playing, and opened her eyes to stare at Mrs. Hurst, and asked in the same child-like voice, "Why are you crying, Misus Hurse?"
Mrs. Hurst replied hugging her, trying to hide her disappointment, "Because that was so beautiful, Lizzie."
"I like music. Papa had a lady come teach us. But only Mary and I would practice, and Mama sent the lady away." Lizzie continued with, "do not cry, Misus Hurse."
Sniffing back tears, and dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief Mrs. Hurst cleared her throat and said, "I shant anymore, Lizzie."
"Can we play again?"
"Yes, Lizzie let us play something together now." And they spent a wonderful afternoon with Mrs. Hurst teaching Lizzie several songs to fill the house with happy melodies that day.
The following day Hurst remarked that he wished to teach Lizzie a game, and he preceded set up the board and to play 'checkers'. It was clear that, once instructed, Lizzie loved playing since she could jump the men whenever she pleased because Hurst would deliberately move his men into positions to be victims and laugh at each jump.
Following the seldom-heard sound of her husband's laughter, Mrs. Hurst entered the parlor and remarked at seeing the game, "Sir, that is a very boyish game to play."
"Tisn't, madam," he argued back and then smiled into her eyes adding, "Tis a child's game, and I recall you deeming to play with me once or twice long ago. You seemed to enjoy it at the time."
She smiled at her husband remembering the time when they were first married and while getting to know him better, she succumbed to playing the game with him. Then she noticed Lizzie managing to jump many of Mr. Hurst's men before he reached the other end of the board.
"Sir, you are letting her win," Mrs. Hurst accused her husband, to which he smiled and nodded.
"That is my strategy of these particular games, my dear," he answered, allowing yet another of his men be victim to Lizzie's jump. He smiled and continued on until all his men were lost.
"That was another most enjoyable game, Miss Lizzie," he told her.
"Again, please, Mister Hurse!"
He nodded and together they set up the board again, Lizzie now needing no help to set up her side, and then he allowed her to help him set up his men. Mrs. Hurst rose from her seat to leave the room when Mr. Hurst stayed her departure with his next sentence. "My dear, you may wish to see how this next game proceeds. I think you may find it quite interesting."
Intrigued with her husband's statement, she found a seat beside Lizzie and watched as the game commenced. This next game took a little longer with Mr. Hurst not allowing too many of his men to be captured, but maneuvering them in a circular formation that frustrated Lizzie until well into the game. He had already showed her how to jump men forward and backwards once they'd reached the other side from the previous games.
When it was again Lizzie's turn she began to make a jump that Mr. Hurst had set up but paused in mid-motion and stared closely at the board. Mr. Hurst glanced at his wife to view both the board and Lizzie's reaction to it. Lizzie squealed with delight and proceeded to jump each and every one of Mr. Hurst's men in a circle and then collected them all from the board, jumping up and down smiling and holding all his men.
"I won! I won! I won!"
Mr. Hurst leaned back in his chair and smiled at the delighted Lizzie. Even for her admitting her age to be now over seven years, Miss Bennet's faculties must have been well above the average. This was something he had long suspected from overhearing her conversation at the party at Lucas Lodge. Then as another thought invaded his mind, his smile faded into a pensive expression. As he stared at this woman who acted now so like a child, he wondered if he would ever again be witness to her adult self. His wife noted his mien and nodded that she too wondered the same.
Their silent conjecture was interrupted when Caroline came in from the drawing room demanding in a loud voice, "What is going on? Why is Eliza making all this noise?"
Lizzie immediately rushed to stand behind Mr. Hurst's chair and showed how uncomfortable she had become in company of this lady. Caroline looked angrily at the checkers now strewn all over the floor, and then at Elizabeth. "Eliza, come here at once."
Swallowing, Lizzie slowly moved forward, eyes staring at her toes, to just in front of Caroline.
"Did you strew these checkers all over the floor?"
"Yes ma'am," Lizzie said softly owning up to her deed without trying to lie.
"Pick them up at once!" Caroline yelled in her ear, making Lizzie cringe at such a loud noise, but immediately the child in a grown up body fell to her knees and picked up all the pieces she saw, and then rose to place them on the board, counting them because she knew how many went in a row. Mrs. Hurst tried to get Caroline's attention but was ignored. Mr. Hurst stood up but remained silent.
"Is that all of them?" Caroline asked with a sneer.
"No, one is missing," said Lizzie visually searching the floor.
"You are not to leave this room until they are all found, do you hear?"
"Yes, ma'am," Lizzie said softly getting back down on hands and knees, looking under each chair, each couch, each table, all the while crawling around Caroline who silently snickered.
"If you cannot find the missing piece, you will not have supper tonight, nor breakfast in the morning, do you hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am," Lizzie said almost in tears now as she frantically searched for the missing checker. Her fear rose not from missing a meal, but from this person who had caught her several times alone in the hallway, demanding she obey her for some task and either yelled or squeezed her arm if she did not.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Hurst began to suspect that Caroline had somehow hidden it from Lizzie, and was deliberately causing her to become upset.
"Caroline?" Mr. Hurst growled quietly, but with more authority than he had ever invoked before at his sister-in-law. She glanced up to him, and her sneer disappeared when she viewed such disapproval on his face. She sighed in a disgusted way.
"That is all right, little Eliza. You may go to your room now."
"But what about the missing piece?"
"We will all look for it later. Go on now, I say," Caroline's voice rose as did her demand.
Lizzie rose from her crawling position, sniffed back tears, curtseyed, and quietly left the room. Waited for the door closed before Caroline moved her foot revealed the missing piece she had hidden there. "Well, imagine that?" She said as she retrieved the piece and placed it on the board, and then smiling at her total control of this child person, she left the room.
Mr. Hurst looked at his wife asking, "How did she become so cruel?"
Mrs. Hurst shook her head stating, "I know not. Our parents were not the most loving creatures, but I only recall my father being brutal to Charles, but not Caroline."
"Then she has learned to be cold-blooded either through her witness of your father or on her own," he ventured, still staring at the door Caroline had exited adding, "Regardless of her source, we must protect Lizzie from her viciousness as best we can until she is able to be removed from Caroline's sphere."
"I agree," Louisa acceded softly, deciding that her sister had overstepped her place, and must now be monitored whenever she was in Lizzie's adjacency.
Posted on Monday, 13 October 2003
Caroline detested not being the center of attention in her own house, and making sure she was well out of Mr. Darcy's hearing, she talked constantly to her own family of having the Bennets sisters sent back home. Even though Bingley and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst chastised her for suggesting such a thing without the doctor's approval, inwardly they also began to wonder now that Lizzie had recovered so well physically if the doctor, when next he visited, would give his permission for Lizzie to continue her convalesce at Longbourn.
And Caroline was not alone in her wish for Elizabeth to return home. When Mr. Bennet came for another visit several days later, he was hoping to be allowed to take his favorite daughter home. Jane called her in from the back lawn where Lizzie was gently swinging with her maid in attendance. Her father watched her walking toward the house.
He was the first to remark on what Darcy and Jane had suspected. "She's has thinned, Jane? Does she not eat properly?"
"Oh, Papa, she says she is not hungry, but even cook has noticed that she rarely touches her food, and has asked if he could prepare something more palatable for her."
Darcy asked, "Miss Bennet, perhaps you were too young to make note of it, but Mr. Bennet, do you recall if Miss Lizzie was so particular in her eating habits as a child?"
"As I remember, we did have a difficult time getting food into her then, and she was a constant worry to your mother until we found foods to her liking."
He neglected to mention that he also recalled that when upset, Lizzie would become adamant about not eating, wondering if this behavior was a repetition. He gazed at Jane whose expression showed she had similar thoughts.
Mr. Bingley interjected with, "My Cook will be most pleased to prepare anything she desires to eat, Mr. Bennet."
The elder gentleman nodded and stated, "Tell him...tell him to feed her porridge and thick soups for now, for she will eat those when nothing else would suit."
When Lizzie entered she noticed the elderly gentleman with the kind eyes and smiling face. And shortening the distance between them, she curtsied with a little bobble that a child would make. "Hello, Mister Bennet."
"Lizzie, good day," replied the gentleman, glad that she remembered him from his last visit.
She looked at him, and smiled. "Good day to you. Have you come to see the roses again?"
"If you wish, but I truly came to see you." After a short pause Mr. Bennet asked, "Lizzie, are they treating you well here?"
"Yes, sir," she started her reply timidly. "All the people here are kind...mostly...Miss Jane lets me call her sister, and Mister Darcy gave us books to read."
Mr. Bennet watched as she continued with her litany. "Mister Hurst showed me a game called...chec-checkers...and Mrs. Hurst helps me at dinner and taught me singing." Here she became more animated as her eyes brightened and she smiled. "I like to sing! And...Mister Bingby is very nice. He gave me toy soldiers to play with, and takes us out each morning to the rose garden. And he likes sister a lot and-"
"Lizzie!" Jane interrupted. "That will do for now." Jane's cheeks were quite pink as she ventured a glance at her father before continuing to reply to Lizzie. "You have been playing quite a bit. Why do you not go up with Susan to your room and rest before luncheon?"
More food, thought Lizzy, sticking out her tongue as though gagging.
"Lizzie!" Jane admonished.
She looked down at her shoes, and folded her arms across her body, clearly not pleased with being corrected twice in so short a time.
"I am sorry, sir." Her cheeks blushing, but she had courage enough to risk another reprimand by glancing at her father smiling at her.
Jane said, "I shall be up directly to read a story together." Lizzie's reply was curt.
"Yes, ma'am."
Jane could tell by her response that Lizzie was annoyed by the reprimand and watched as Lizzie turned and started for the door.
"But first say good bye to Papa."
And rolling her eyes to show her displeasure of the reprimand, and in a pique of temper, she turned back to the gentleman and curtsied very carelessly and saying in a rapid voice that was anything but the sincere way Jane had taught her, "Itwasnicetoseeyou, sir. Ihopeyouwillcomeagain." And she turned and headed toward the door at a fast pace.
"Walk, Lizzie."
Lizzie halted, and began to walk with slow deliberate steps to the door to take Susan's hand.
Jane's cheeks were crimson with her mortification of Lizzie's misbehavior. However, both Bingley and Darcy exchanged guilty stares for trying to keep their countenance over this thinly veiled attempt of Lizzie's to avenge herself against her sister's authority. They were all silent as Lizzie reached the door.
But just before she exited, she paused and suddenly turned to the gentleman with an intense stare as if there was now something about him that she should remember. When Susan helped her depart the room Mr. Bennett collapsed in the nearest chair, his hand over his eyes.
"Jane, she still does not know me. From your notes of her progress in reading I hoped that she had somehow progressed to an older age. How can it be that she would still not know me?" Jane knelt down beside the chair and took his hand.
"Father, perhaps your appearance is still not one which she can associate. When you return us home to Longbourn you will be with her that she would know you then. Do not lose hope."
But Mr. Bennet shook his head saying, "No, Jane. If she does not recognize either you or I, she still will not know anyone else at Longbourn at present. I cannot subject her to another house full of strangers at this point. No, she must remain here for now, though it is my fondest wish to have her back home." He removed his handkerchief and blew his nose, holding back tears, and added, "I will also curtail your mother and sisters from insisting on their planned visit tomorrow. Lizzie is not ready." He wondered if she would ever be so.
A saddened Mr. Bennet left the house still worried about Lizzie's condition. And even Bingley's hopeful reassurances from the doctor that she would regain her memory in due time did not allayed his fears.
The following morning while Jane and Susan were walking back into her bedchambers from the gardens Lizzie asked, "I want to write a letter, sister."
Jane paused in removing her bonnet, and merely said, "There is paper and quills at the desk in your sitting room. Let me show you." She glanced at Susan who only raised her brows in disbelief.
Seating her on the chair at the desk, Jane retrieved paper and a quill pen. She opened the ink well and dipped the pen in, tapping it on the top, then handed it to Lizzie. But when she put the pen to the paper Lizzie hesitated, face scowling in concentration. Her hand began to shake and the pen fell upon the desk to splatter the page, and gave Jane the most forlorn look.
"Let me help you, Lizzie." She nodded.
Taking the pen and a fresh paper, Jane began a letter. "Lizzie Bennet 15th of November, 1805. How is that for a beginning, Lizzie," she asked showing her sister the page. Her handwriting was very small and neat, and Lizzie smiled. "Would you like to practice writing just your name for now?"
"Can you show me how to write my name, sister?"
"Yes, of course, Lizzie."
And they spent the next hour practicing the letters that made up the name 'Lizzie Bennet'. Jane thought 'Elizabeth' might be too difficult for this first attempt. Lizzie's efforts were shaky at first with many errors and blots and scratching out of the wrong letters, but at last she could write her own name. It was not an elegant hand, but it was legible.
"Would you like to practice more, Lizzie, or would you like to have me read to you?"
"I want to show Mister Bingby that I can write now," professed Lizzie.
Jane gazed Susan's way for confirmation that the master of the house was indeed still about. "I believe I saw him earlier in the hallway that leads to the billiards room, Miss."
"Would we be disturbing him if we were to show him Lizzie's efforts for a few minutes, do you think?"
"I cannot say that he would mind at all to know that our Lizzie can now write her own name, Miss. I think he would be delighted."
"Then we shall show it to him, Lizzie, but only for a few minutes. Then you must come back to your room and rest."
Lizzie sighed, but nodded. They all left her room and descended the stairs to the hallway and the billiards room only to find it empty. Forbes was rounding the corner just then, and informed them of Mr. Bingley's having gone into the study to work on some estate business and would not be available until after luncheon.
Thus thwarted of their original plan they began down the long hallway towards the closed door of the drawing room where Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hurst were debating the merits of some of the characters in plays by Shakespeare. Mr. Hurst was speaking.
"It is true both Cesario and Rosalind* had similar guises, and I feel it was Shakespeare's contention that woman often use disguises in order that they hide their feelings, probably for the purpose of entrapping men." Such a cynical statement could not go unchallenged by Darcy.
"The use of costumes was a way to forward the story, and have Orsino and Orlando* divulge the true feelings of their hearts to those persons whom they were destined to love."
Hurst thought it was all farce replying, "In real life woman use similar deceits to attain the goal of advantageous marriage."
To this Darcy had to agree, but forwarded, "These characters in their deception sought not those goals, but rather to remain safe from being abused by the unscrupulous characters of the time."
Hurst pshawed this statement of his disbelief as to their motives, and brought forth yet another couple from a third play. "Beatrice and Benedict* at least had the more honest relationship before they themselves were deceived by their friends to think themselves in love."
Darcy stressed, "but these two characters must have truly been in love, and were at first unaware of it until after the deception."
Hurst shook his head. "How can a person be in love and not realize it?"
"If the signs are so subtle, one might misread them. How is a person to be sure?"
"It is impossible not to know."
"If a person is not told outright, how can one be assured of the other's affection?"
"Signs, even subtle ones are signs nonetheless."
"But might not similar signs that signify love be misinterpreted for signs of friendship?"
"There are differences."
"How so?"
"The look in one's eyes is a sure sign of love one cannot mistake."
"Do you mean when any of the conniving mamas of the ton who push their daughters toward me with dewy eyed expressions, I am to assume it to be love? Surely you jest."
"That is hardly the look to which I am referring, Darcy."
"What then?"
Hurst thought a moment before replying. "I would say the look Bingley and the elder Miss Bennet exchange might be akin to what I refer."
"You think Bingley is in love...again?"
"As you say, but this time I think he is totally besotted."
Darcy sighed.
Hurst continued. "Whenever Miss Bennet enters into his presence, he gives her a look of pure adoration."
Darcy smiled, not taking what Hurst said too seriously. "But has Bingley not done the same to countless other ladies for all the years that we have known him?"
"Ah, but have you ever seen it so reciprocated as it is in the form of this particular lady?"
"I have yet to notice that she regards him with anything more than kindness." To this Hurst snorted.
"Then you are as blind as the poor wretch standing on the London street corner begging for alms, Darcy. Truly in my entire acquaintance with my brother-in-law I have yet to see him so absolutely entranced as he seems to be with this woman."
"But it is not his reaction that is paramount, but hers to his."
"Which brings us back to the characters in Mr. Shakespeare's plays. I can attest to you her attraction to him though she tries to conceal herself, not in men's clothing, but in her mild demeanor, to keep her heart protected until she herself is sure of her own feelings."
"You are comparing Miss Bennet to Cesario and Rosalind then?"
"Quite."
"Then I will have to observe her in Bingley's presence before professing any opinion on the matter. But you can be assured that you are in error in your judgment of the situation-"
They were silenced when a knock came upon the door and the lady in question entered behind the butler. The gentlemen stood as Lizzie and Susan followed Miss Bennet.
"Good morning, ladies," Mr. Darcy said. The three ladies curtsied. "Are the gardens still to your liking, Miss Lizzie?"
"Yes, sir. We were looking for Mister Bingby to show him this," she said excitedly thrusting the paper into his hands. Both Hurst and Darcy perused the page of the many efforts of her name.
"This is remarkable."
"When did you do this, Miss Lizzie?"
"Just now, sir. I can write now." She held her head up proudly.
"Yes, you can. We are all quite please with your progress."
"I want to practice more."
"Practice is a good thing, Miss Lizzie."
"Can I practice now?"
Darcy motioned to the desk. "There is paper and pen here for you to use."
When Lizzie looked hopefully to Jane, she relented. "You may stay for a short while, and then we must return to your room to rest, Lizzie."
Lizzie sighed at the thought of more rest, but nodded in agreement as she hugged her sister. Then Jane seated her at the desk and gave her other sheets of paper. "Lizzie, will you be all right if I leave you for a few moments?"
Lizzie stared at her sister, hesitating.
Darcy offered. "I shall stay if you need to absent yourself, Miss Bennet."
"Lizzie, is this satisfactory?"
Lizzie nodded and began to write, ignoring all in the room.
After Jane departed, Mr. Hurst quit the room to find out if his wife was at last awake. Susan asked if she was needed, and Darcy gave her leave to have tea in the kitchen, and after a curtsey she too quit the room. Darcy was seated on the couch reading.
After some moments Lizzie stated, "I want to write sister's name."
Darcy rose and approached the desk, viewing her list of her name and smiled. "Miss Bennet's first name is Jane. Let me show you how to write it." And he took another pen. Dipping it in the inkwell, he began with a large 'J' and continued with the last three letters of the name. "Now you try."
Lizzie took a deep breath, and wrote the large 'J' just as he had. The remaining letters were more difficult because they were in a different order than her name, but she managed to write it so it could be read.
"Very good. Now you can practice that name as well as your own."
She nodded, asking, "What other names can I practice?"
He raised his eyebrows at the idea of her trying to tackle other names, mentally going down the list. Fitzwilliam was rather long for her to attempt at this point. Bingley and Caroline have quite a few letters. Louisa was a possibility. "How about my last name of Darcy? It is only five letters, one more than 'Jane'."
When she nodded, he took up a pen again, and wrote a large "D" and then the remaining letters, one of which she already now knew. She could write the 'D' and the 'a', and struggled through the 'r' and 'c', but had trouble with the last. He patiently wrote his name again, slowing on the last letter to let her see how it was accomplished. She tried again, and managed at last to write the 'y'.
"That is legible. Now you practice while I sit and read until Miss Bennet's return." Lizzie nodded and set to work. Darcy tried to concentrate with the silence broken only by her scratching of pen to paper. They had been thus for less than a quarter-hour when a servant entered and approached Darcy.
"Sir, the master asked if you would join him in the study to discuss an estate matter."
Darcy nodded. "Go to the kitchen to ask Miss Lizzie's maid to return to us."
"Very good, sir." And the servant departed.
Darcy rose and neared the desk where Lizzie was busy at work writing his name and her name and Jane's name in neat columns and rows. "You have accomplished much in a short amount of time, Miss Lizzie."
"Thank you, sir."
"Mr. Bingley requires my presence in the study. I have asked the servant to return with your maid. Will it be acceptable to you if I left you in the interim, Miss Lizzie?"
Lizzie hesitated, not wishing to be alone, but no longer wishing to be viewed as a baby. She reasoned that Susan would return in a few moments, and acted brave and swallowing, she smiled at Darcy.
"I shall be fine, Mister Darcy. You may leave me." Her eyes went back to her name writing again. He paused before he left the room, wondering if she was being truthful, or merely attempting bravery. As he had suspected from the incident in the library, she was daily progressing to a more mature child, and wondered if she was now of an age whereby she would attempt concealment of her unease with a falsehood.
It was not long before Lizzie heard the door open. And anticipating Susan's return, with pen still in hand, she spoke. "Look what I wrote, Sus-"
Lizzie stopped in mid sentence when her eyes rested on Caroline and not on Susan.
"What is it you have done, Eliza? Let me see." Caroline snatched the paper from Lizzie's hand, and became incensed with what she saw. It was Lizzie name beside Darcy over and over on the page, and she immediately took it to mean this woman even though a child had designs on Mr. Darcy. "How dare you!" And she crumbled the page in a tight ball and threw it in the fire where it was instantly incinerated.
"No! That was mine!" And Lizzie tried to push her, but Caroline easily grabbed Lizzie's wrists. "I am more than a match for some little rustic who thinks she can try to take what belongs to me."
But Caroline had neglected to remove the pen still in Lizzie's grip, as the ink splattered from it over the front of Caroline's dress in spots and smudging black marks. Finally realizing the stains, Caroline stared down motionless at her bodice, and screamed. "Look what you have done! I had this dress sent from Paris! It cost a fortune, and you have ruined it!" She was squeezing Lizzie's wrists so tightly now they hurt.
Lizzie defended herself with, "You grabbed my hand!"
"Oh! You little brat! I will-!"
Just then Susan entered to this uproar. "What is all this fuss? Mistress, what has happened?"
Caroline threw Lizzie back in the chair and moved to pounce upon the maid, slapping her across the face in her rage. "You allowed her to be alone in here? And now look at what she has done to my dress! I will have you discharged from our employ, and thrown out of this house by nightfall! Do you hear me!"
Susan rubbed her cheek, the hand mark visible now. "Oh, Mistress, do not dismiss me. I am sure we can somehow have your dress repaired or replaced."
"I will take it out of your wages for months, you incompetent, inept, paltry excuse for a servant!"
And Caroline rushed from the room slamming the door in the process, leaving two rather devastated persons behind. Susan still rubbing her cheek noticed Lizzie rapid breathing, tears forming. She immediately went to her and hugged her. "There, there, Miss. It's all over now. She is gone. And I am here."
"Oh, Susan," Lizzie sobbed a few breaths, but then became angry as she thought of what had happened to all her efforts on the destroyed page. "I hate her! I hate her so much!"
"Oh, Miss. Don't say such things. You know God does not want us to hate people, even the nasty ones. Calm yourself now."
Lizzie did manage to calm down with Susan's care, and finally her breathing returned to normal and she nodded. Susan said, "Come, let us go find your sister and take you to your room to rest some."
Lizzie could only nod to prevent another outburst of angry tears as the maid led her to her bedchambers. Lizzie's only thought was when were they going to allow her to go home?
The next day began brightly with sunshine, and Lizzie seemed to recover her normal spirits with the aid of Mr. Bingley's cheerful presence, and their stroll through the garden. At breakfast he suggested taking Lizzie on a walk around the grounds before the sun became too oppressive. When Darcy agreed to this Caroline remarked that even she could do with some fresh air.
Bingley and Jane, along with Darcy and Caroline hanging on his arm, decided on the path through the trees. Lizzie skipped ahead, happy to be out of doors, stopped to pick flowers along the path. Darcy noted that indeed Charles and Jane had eyes only for each other at the moment. And being distracted by his observations and Caroline's chattering of news from the town they all became suddenly aware that Lizzie was not about. Tension was thick for the moment with them all walking down different paths, searching and calling her name. As Darcy passed below a large tree he heard a giggle from above his head. Looking into the branches he spied Lizzie sitting there in the first crook.
Trying to keep his voice calm when he was still quite worried, he asked, "How did you get up into the tree, Miss Lizzie?"
"There is a bench on the other side."
Walking around to it he said, "You must come down at once."
"I like it up here. I can see far away."
"Dr. Smyth is still worried for you, and does not wish for you to exert yourself. I think he would view tree climbing as an exertion. Come down." She immediately began her descent.
"Are you going to tell Sister where you found me?" She put her foot from the branch to the bench. He held her hand to ensure her safety until she was upon the ground once more and then released it.
"You do not wish me to tell her?"
"No, she will worry."
"Then you knew it was wrong to do so?"
She sighed and nodded.
"Why did you do it then?"
Her eyes stared into his as she asked, "Mister Darcy, do you never do anything just for fun?"
Clearly, he thought returning her gaze, judging from her insights, sentence structures and vocabulary this was no longer a child of seven, but surely one a few years older now. It gave him immense relief to know that she seemed to still be progressing.
"Sir?"
Realizing she wished for a reply to the question posed him, he shrugged. "Yes, I admit to the propensity of riding on horseback for my own amusement regardless of the time involved."
She nodded, satisfied with his admission.
He then followed this with his admonishment. "But I am not mending from a serious injury as you are. Your sister worries because she cares for your welfare, as do we all."
Lizzie rolled her eyes.
"There will no more tree climbing in the near future."
She sighed and as she stared into his eyes she conceded, nodded again. "Fine, then let us join the others once more."
And before he could say another word she began skipping down the path leaving him shaking his head.
They had quite enough of climbing and Darcy hoped that it was now behind them after his gentle reprimand of her. But when Darcy entered the library the next morning he found Lizzie had already climbed past four of the lower shelves to a high perch to retrieve a book just out of reach.
His voice remained calm when he said, "Miss Lizzie, I thought we had already agreed that you would do no more climbing."
"I agreed not to climb trees, Mister Darcy," she corrected him, placing her foot on the next shelf.
"This kind of climbing is also not permitted, not only by Dr. Smyth, but also by Mr. Bingley, I am sure. Get down from there." Darcy came up behind her, wondering how to remain a gentleman, but having to hold her waist to prevent a fall. She, however, held onto the shelf and would not allow him to take her down. "Let go of the shelf, Lizzie."
"No!" She yelled as any youngster not used to being allowed to have her own way. "I want that book with the bird. Let me go!"
He tried to remain calm while trying to pull her fingers from gripping the shelf. "If you insist upon it, " he said, his voice still calm. "I will get the book from the shelf for you, but first you must get down from there. You could harm yourself."
"No, I am big now. You said so. I can get it myself and-"
"You are to get down at once!" Darcy's now commanding voice sounded ominous to her little girl's mind.
She turned her head around, mouth agape, and stopped struggling with him. He likewise stopped trying to pry her fingers from the shelves. Her adult face with her child's eyes stared into his. Seeing his patience waning, she swallowed and bit her bottom lip, trying to decide what she should do next. She didn't wish for him to be angry with her, but she wanted that book. She looked once more at her goal almost within reach, and then again at Darcy. "You...will get me the book?" She almost pouted.
"Yes," he replied, his voice calm once more. "As I have already told you, when you come down, I will get it for you."
His hands were still around her waist to ensure she would not lose her footing. When she nodded and let go of the shelves, he realized that the entirety of her now slight weight had always been against him, keeping her safe.
He kept hold of her while he placed her down to the floor, then he released her at once. She stared at him with a triumphant smiling face, which he did not return. He pulled the book from the high shelf and crossed his arms over it and scowled at her. But his voice remained calm as he asked, "What possessed you to climb these shelves, Miss Lizzie?"
"I wanted to see the book."
"But why did you not ask one of the servants to retrieve it for you? They would have been more than happy to do so had you but asked?"
Her bottom lip began to tremble, but her eyes showed her defiant nature as she stood silently before him.
"Well?"
"I...I can get it myself."
"I beg your pardon?" He asked, not quite believing her answer.
She folded her arms and said softly, "I...don't know some of these people well...and...and...do not want to have to ask them, and..."
"You are frightened of them, still? Of all of us in this house?" He never thought she would be so to people who always seemed to be kind and pleasant to her. To a child's mind, however, perhaps all adults do not appear quite so friendly.
"Not...not everybody, sir...but some, 'specially..." She swallowed and continued. "I...want to do it myself..."
As he stared at her he first thought she was merely trying to be independent and wished not to have to ask for help, but his scrutiny brought her other motive to light as she continued.
"I know you want me to be...not afraid...be more...grownup, but...can I go home now? I want my Papa."
Her large brown pools with unshed tears stared out of her adult face with the look of a child, and his heart nearly broke when he saw what was truly behind the incident. She was finding it very difficult to trust anyone here with it all so unfamiliar to her. Perhaps Caroline had been right all along. Perhaps Lizzie should have been returned home to Longbourn to be reminded of those rooms and people she had grown up with to help regain her memories to the present.
He nodded. "Yes, I shall do everything within my power to have you returned home."
"Soon, Mister Darcy?"
"Soon, I promise," was his calm answer.
He smiled and his eyes softened and he motioned her to sit on the bench beside the window. He sat beside her and opened the book, which was too big even for her adult hands to hold. They slowly turned each page to view the artwork of the illustrator of the many birds that graced the country, for this was an ornithology book with articles about the various fowl and their habitats. As he turned each page and read to her about each picture, she seemed to calm in both temper and fear with this diversion, and they enjoyed their time together. But much as he was amused by her child-like state, he began to wonder when she returned to Longbourn, how long it would take her to remember her life from before.
*Darcy and Hurst were discussing the characters of Beatrice and Benedict from 'Much Ado About Nothing', Cesario and Orsino from 'Twelfth Night' and Rosalind and Orlando from 'As You Like It'. Makes one wonder if Orlando Bloom of LoTR is his real name.