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Part Twenty-six
Caroline was remarkably subdued over dinner. She did not react to any comments from George or Fitzwilliam, who were both unusually talkative. Her protective older sister instincts were not awakened when they took Clarence as teasing object instead. In fact, she did not even notice it.
All she remembered from dinner would be the elegant and confident way Richard used his cutlery.
It was not superior to Lewis' handling of his knife and fork, if Andrew had to be absolutely honest, but he recognised that it held great interest for Caroline all the same. He had been studying her as unobtrusively as he was wont to study people and he wondered what had happened. There was none of that evident happiness that he would have expected, neither in Caroline nor in Richard.
After dinner he seized his chance as he drew close to his cousin. "Any progress?" Fitzwilliam and George, the most perceptive of the others, were still busy with their giddy grilling of Clarence. They would not notice a whispered conversation between others.
"Curiosity is a vice," Richard replied.
"So is stating untruths," Andrew countered. "Well?"
"We..." Richard wondered if he could say it to the youngest Darcy brother, who would undoubtedly not have much experience with it. "...kissed."
Andrew digested that news. It meant so very little to him all by itself. He did not doubt that it had been as agreeable as Richard's smile seemed to indicate. He had always been too shy to enjoy it much. "But does she now know you love her?"
"I suppose so."
"You did not tell her and she did not tell you?"
"I am sure she felt it." Richard much preferred wordless communication. It was easier and more agreeable. Andrew, of all people, would have to understand that.
"Do not count on Caroline to figure out what you feel." It seemed highly unlikely to Andrew that she would suddenly be able to do that. "Just tell her and get it over with." He felt they were being silly, but he understood.
Speaking his mind was still not a very attractive option to Richard. He gave his cousin a stubborn and reluctant look.
"Are you now engaged?" Andrew pressed on.
"Engaged?" Richard exclaimed. He looked around himself furtively and then lowered his voice again. "No, we are not engaged." Could this happen without asking a lady? He had always hoped it would be possible, but perhaps he had to admit that it could not happen.
"But do you not think you ought to be?" It was against Andrew's principles to keep up the kissing for too long if there was no engagement to follow, especially if it was his friend Caroline who was being toyed with. She would want some clarity soon.
"Does it not come with the kiss?" Richard wondered hopefully against his better judgement.
This ignorance made Andrew sarcastic. "Perhaps you should speak with George on that subject. He has ample experience with indiscretions and no experience whatsoever with engagements."
"But I meant a real kiss, one you feel."
"I am not sure what George likes about it if he does not feel anything," Andrew said dryly.
"You realise that I cannot speak to George about kissing Caroline." Richard felt a sudden fear that George had been there before him. "You do not think...."
Andrew was able to reassure him. "No." She would have told him or he would have noticed.
Telling Richard she loved him was not an attractive option to Caroline either, although she wished the kiss could be repeated right before she went to bed. She was certain she would sleep well on it. It made her feel all dreamy and comfortable.
If someone kissed her, it must be because he loved her. There could be no other reason. She had always believed that. Now that it had happened, however, she felt something was missing or still to come and that was Richard's declaration. While she did not truly doubt him, she felt all the same that he should perhaps make some more effort to take away those last bits of doubt.
She noticed he had spoken to Andrew and she knew it was about her in some way. When Andrew came to sit beside her afterwards she knew what he would like to speak about, although she did not know if he had come to satisfy his own curiosity or if he was merely acting as Richard's messenger. "Is there anything you would like to tell me, Andrew?" she asked.
"No, but I would like to ask you something."
"Please go right ahead." As she spoke, she wondered why Richard should choose to sit with Lewis. While none of the Darcys were his enemies, he was not friends with all to the same extent. Generally he preferred Fitzwilliam or George, she knew, but tonight they were behaving in an uncommonly stupid manner. One the one hand she was glad Richard did not join in their teasing of Clarence, but on the other she wondered what he could possibly be seeking in Lewis' company. Or perhaps she was merely so well acquainted with all Darcys that she exaggerated the character traits that were specific to the individual ones to keep them apart better and that really Lewis was not so bad. She had got along with Lewis very well at times, although she had come to realise he was a trifle superficial.
"Caroline?" Andrew asked.
She turned her head. "Yes?"
"Are you listening?"
"I am sorry. I am listening. Did I miss something you said?" She did not think she had, but she could be wrong.
"No, I have not said anything yet. Did you speak to Richard?"
"Not...exactly. Not in the way you mean." She coloured and looked away so he would not be able to see her face, but she met Richard's eyes and those were more unsettling than any question Andrew might be able to ask. In the end she decided to look at her hands, which were grasping a fold of her gown. She tried to relax.
"In another way?"
"Oh Andrew..." she said in a low voice, interpreting the tone of his voice correctly. "He told you."
"Er...yes," Andrew had to admit. He blushed.
"How?" She would not like to hear he had boasted. It was difficult to keep her eyes from straying to Richard again.
"I asked him if there was any progress."
This was progress? Caroline allowed her eyes to stray as far as the toes of Richard's shoes. His feet were not steadily placed on the floor. She could see them make small fidgety movements. Suddenly she wanted him to stop. She wanted him to be calm and comfortable. Her awareness travelled to the other side of the room.
"Caroline?" Andrew asked again.
"Yes?" she said absentmindedly. He had not sounded near enough for her to devote all her attention to him. Something was welling up in her and it was hard to push it back. It was a good feeling, though.
"Er...you are smiling at his shoes." If any other people in the room looked at her, it would be plain to see. He did not know how much she wanted to keep it a secret. Apparently not very much.
For a moment Caroline retrieved some of her wit. "Be glad I am not looking at the rest of him." She was not sure what would happen if she did.
There was a low chuckle beside her. Andrew found it funny. He looked up at the rest of his cousin. That was just as funny. They were completely mirrored in posture. Richard, however, seemed to be gazing at Caroline's knees.
Instead of it warning her to the possible dangers of letting her eyes travel upwards, Caroline felt encouraged by Andrew's chuckle. Her eyes moved up, but she had not got very far before she realised that this was not going to satisfy her. She had to go to him. In less than a second she had stood up, only to see that Richard had done the same thing. In some confusion they stared at each other. Caroline did not know what to do now.
Apparently he did not either and they sat down again simultaneously. Her eyes did not move slowly now. They kept flickering back and forth nervously between his toes and his face. She still felt what had moved her, however, and she still wanted to jump up again.
After a moment she did so, but Richard did too. It seemed they took the same amount of time to think things through before they acted. Or perhaps neither of them did any thinking at all.
This time, George was too curious to stay silent. "Are you two playing some game?" he sneered.
Neither person he was speaking to paid any attention to him whatsoever, but all the others did. They looked at the standing couple with interest.
Caroline stretched out her hand, but she did so at precisely the same moment that Richard did. Their hands met in the middle. As if she was not already astonished by their synchronised movements, the touch made it even worse. They even gasped simultaneously and cut it short at the same time when they heard the other gasp as well.
"Fine performance!" George continued to sneer. "You two are perfect for the stage!"
They snapped out of their trance. Richard turned to gave George a withering glare and Caroline pulled at his hand. They had to leave this room, but where to, if she did not want to pass everyone? She did not look to check, but she could feel their stares. Glancing at Richard, the other side of the room, a curtain and their fate was sealed.
Richard, feeling the tug and following Caroline's glance, noticed the same curtain. He did not waste any time. With a few long strides he had reached it, pulling Caroline after him. They disappeared behind the curtain.
The others in the room stared in astonishment as the curtain swayed less and less and finally hung motionless.
"Charles," George authoritatively addressed the master of the house. "What is behind that curtain?"
"George," Fitzwilliam cut in even more authoritatively, taking his older brother duty very seriously. "We can all use our imagination."
"Fitzwilliam," George replied with a smirk. "I never knew you had any imagination in that respect. For what it is worth, I was referring to hidden doors or passages, not to couples who might --"
"Have left the room?" Fitzwilliam knew when to cut in.
"Well, have they?" George asked. "I wanted to ask Charles if he knew what was behind that curtain. I should feel very uncomfortable knowing that our cousin held our hostess captive behind that curtain. So, Charles...is there a door behind that curtain or do we have to come to your sister's rescue? Her virtue is at stake."
Charles frowned. "I never look behind curtains. I could not possibly tell you."
"Gentlemen," Louisa spoke up. "Please..." She needed to protect her sister from all this curiosity. Caroline was wiser than to allow herself to be pulled behind a curtain when there was no way of escaping. There had to be a door.
For once, she was supported by her husband. "What a damn tedious discussion, George," said Hurst with an annoyed shrug. "Door or no door, it was their choice to disappear behind that curtain. We shall see them again when it pleases them. Until then, leave them."
Before the others had recovered enough to start this discussion, Richard had already pushed up the window, wriggled out and then pulled and dragged his lady out headfirst. She suffered this treatment without complaining, only uttering a small gasp when she distinctly heard her gown tear in some place. However, hanging partly outside with her stomach on the window sill, this was not the right time to bring such an unimportant matter up, not even when she found herself with her hands on the balcony floor and her legs being hauled over the window sill. But she was let down gently and her gown stayed in place.
"Now..." Richard said hurriedly, looking around the balcony. "I think we manoeuvred ourselves into a tight spot. Or not!" He peered over the railing. "I see!" He could climb down there.
"What do you see?" Caroline asked in trepidation. She had tried to find the tear in her gown, but she could not. It was dark and her head was still red from having hung upside down.
"We can climb down." Richard swung his legs over the railing and began to descend, obviously forgetting that it might not be as easy and adventurous to a lady.
"Richard!" Caroline hissed, not wanting to raise her voice. "Where are you going?"
"Down."
"And you want me to follow?" He must be crazy. She could not do that. It was high. She was wearing a gown.
"Do you love me or not?" he said a little testily. He was not going to climb up again and appear from behind the curtain with a Caroline with a torn gown. What would everybody think? There was no way back.
"Catch me." Caroline swung her body over the railing as well.
Part Twenty-seven
As much as Colonel Fitzwilliam would have loved landing in an uncomfortable heap on the ground, he was too strong to drop a falling female. His first instinct was to catch her properly. Then, with some regret he set her down on her feet effortlessly.
Caroline was very impressed. "I knew I was safe."
"Safe?" he replied, feeling a little embarrassed by the compliment. "You know you are far from safe. There is no way we can go back inside now. It will be evident to any curious person that we escaped for wicked purposes." It was not really evident, merely a conclusion any suspicious mind would jump to, especially in a male-dominated room from which the only sensible female had been removed.
"But we did not. Did we?"
"I did," he said after a moment. For wicked purposes in retrospect, that was.
"You did?" In her confusion about this matter, Caroline forgot to ask him about his earlier words.
"We shall have to elope," the Colonel said solemnly. He said it with enough confidence to avoid protest, he hoped.
"Oh!" Surprisingly, Caroline felt more excitement than she would have imagined to feel at such a suggestion. She had never considered herself susceptible to something like that. She would not even admit to having read any novels in which elopements took place. "Really?"
"Yes, really. Think about it. How would you face the others? What would they think? They would make us do it if we did not do it ourselves."
That was true. The others would almost certainly force them to get married, but getting married because others forced them to was not as dignified as making the decision themselves. Besides, Caroline thought she would not feel half so thrilled if she was forced. "Off we go!" she said decisively. "Richard?" when he did not move. Perhaps he was reconsidering. How could he reconsider after she had expressed her willingness? She only wanted to do that if he did too.
"Do you not think we need to pack some things?" he asked, having been thinking about their logistics, not about changing his mind. "Not too much, mind you," he added hastily when he remembered his trips with female relatives. They always packed enough clothes to dress an army.
"Yes, that would probably be best," she agreed.
Inside, there was some confusion and curiosity as everyone stared at the curtain, waiting to see if anyone was going to appear from behind it. When the curtain moved due to a sudden gust of wind, everyone started. "Yes!" George cried. "Come out, Richard!"
Nothing happened.
George felt a trifle foolish. He had been sure Richard was playing a prank on them. "Richard? Do you want us to come and get you?" he tried as a last attempt.
Fitzwilliam was a better observer. He was well acquainted with small sudden movements of curtains and in his experience they were predominantly caused by movements of air, which in turn were nearly always caused by an open window or door. In this case he guessed that it was a window, since the door to the balcony was several feet to the right of it. "I suggest you try, George," he said dryly.
"Yes, go George," Lewis said, leaning back lazily. "Show us how you catch them."
George was not the type to back out, even if he was going to be mocked. It was not his own choice, but he had enough experience with his brothers to know they would not let him live it down otherwise. He walked towards the curtain and paused for effect.
"What if..." Louisa's voice trailed off.
She was reprimanded by her husband, who was reclining even more lazily than Lewis. "What sort of goat would stand behind a curtain while he could hear us talking about him?"
"Are you implying my sister is a goat?"
"I said him, not her," Hurst said with a bored roll of his eyes.
George touched the curtain, but did not pull it away yet. He was enjoying the moment. "Lady and gentlemen, the show will begin!"
"It is a window," Fitzwilliam could not help but reveal to Andrew in a whisper.
Andrew usually believed his eldest brother. "I do not think Caroline would stand there to face the embarrassment," he whispered back.
"Would there be anything to be embarrassed about?" Fitzwilliam inquired.
"Maybe."
George pulled the curtain aside and revealed an open window. Some people cheered, more because George had been proven wrong than because Richard and Caroline were gone, although there would be no way of telling for certain. "It appears that they have gone out the window," George said to his audience, as if they were not very clever.
"Is it a long drop?" a concerned Louisa wished to know. She wanted to come over to look out of the window, but she was afraid she would see two dead bodies on the ground below.
George peered out. He made as if to start. "Aaaah!"
Louisa screamed in horror. "What?" She thought he was seeing something awful. "Are they dead?" She imagined them dead in a flowerbed.
"No in that sense, but I cannot say they are undamaged after this escape." He snickered rather wickedly.
"What do you see?" She pressed her fists to her mouth.
"George, stop teasing her," Fitzwilliam called out imperatively. He walked over with his long strides and pushed his brother aside. He was sure there was nothing to be seen.
"You are not seeing anything I am not seeing," George said, a little put out at being thus demoted in company.
"But I will at least report truthfully. It is a balcony, Louisa."
"Are they on it?"
Fitzwilliam looked out once more, although he had not seen anything the first time he had looked. "It does not seem to be the case."
"Climb out and check," George urged him. He would like to see his brother wriggle himself out of the window. While he was thinking of that, he thought he would like seeing Caroline wriggle out of it even more. It was a pity he had missed that.
"I shall use the door, if you do not mind," Fitzwilliam replied in an icy voice. He walked over to it and stepped out. As far as he could see -- and he could see all of the balcony -- there was nobody on there. He turned to go back into the room, but his way was barred by everyone else trying to catch a glimpse. "Sorry, they have gone."
"They have vanished into thin air?" Louisa asked, looking around herself uncomprehendingly. She did not understand how one could disappear from a balcony except through the door leading on to it and they had not seen anyone come through it.
George inspected the railing. Nobody was dangling from it at any point and neither was anyone lying on the ground below with a broken ankle.
"They must have climbed down," Fitzwilliam concluded. He thought he might have done the same in their position. They must have had some inkling of the curiosity that would have awaited them.
Louisa could not believe it. "Caroline would never!"
"Richard would." George's remark met with some snickers from his brothers. "Especially if he went first and the lady followed. Her skirts, you see."
"Where are they now?" Charles began to feel a little worried. How would the house be run without his sister? There were certain things she was supposed to do tomorrow that he would rather not do himself.
"Do you think they will climb up again?" Clarence often mirrored whatever emotion Charles had. He was worried now too, although he did not really know why.
Fitzwilliam tried to give him a not so exasperated look. Clarence was not very clever, but did he have to flaunt it? "Not likely."
"Where are they then?"
"We might not see them again."
"Your sister fell into the hands of the Fitzwilliams now, "George said ominously. "They are renowned for capturing unsuspecting females."
"I thought you were," said Andrew, speaking up for the first time. "And she is not unsuspecting. If she had been unsuspecting we would have found Richard unconscious on this balcony."
"My sister eloped," Louisa said dramatically.
"Hurrah!" said Hurst and he returned indoors. He felt all this was fuss about nothing. People should be allowed to jump off balconies and elope in peace if they so wished. They should not let this interfere with his quality time. Lewis followed him and together they set out for the decanter.
Clarence supported Louisa, who was distraught. "Are you sure? They might have just gone for a walk. We shall see them back shortly. I am sure of it."
"Women usually remain on the balcony while the cad goes off into the night with their innocence, Clarence," George informed him. "The last time I...-- if both woman and innocence are gone we can only conclude some very bad things." He returned into the house as well and also poured himself a new glass. "I need something strong. The thought of Caroline deserting me unsettles me too much."
"You never cared for her," said Andrew.
"My hand is trembling." George showed him. "Look."
"Liar. And she never cared for you either."
George gulped the contents of his glass down in one go. "Have some compassion. You are killing me with your cruel words."
Fitzwilliam was the last to come inside. He closed the door, the window and the curtains. "Or does anyone else have any plans to leave shortly?"
Part Twenty-eight
The next morning at eleven o'clock Messrs Fitzwilliam and Andrew Darcy were shown into Mr Bennet's library. They were most punctual. Their hostess' elopement had ensured that their host was already feeling too many responsibilities and looking to share some with others. Fitzwilliam had left the house as soon as possible. While he had been hoping of a glimpse of the young ladies -- one in particular -- he had not counted on finding Miss Mary Bennet in the library with her father. He supposed she was to leave them alone shortly.
Andrew had not counted on Mary's presence either, but his wishes were quite the opposite of his brother's. He would not mind at all if Mary stayed, always being favourably inclined towards young ladies who were readers.
"Mr Darcy," Mr Bennet greeted Fitzwilliam. "And Mr Darcy," he said to Andrew. "Good morning, gentlemen. You are both most welcome." He was already amused. So the chap had needed some support, had he? "It is fortunate for us all that Mrs Bennet has gone to Meryton to visit her sister with some of my silly daughters. We shall not be disturbed now." He nearly rubbed his hands together when he saw Fitzwilliam flinch upon hearing the girls were not at home. There was some disappointment there. Andrew, however, did not seem to care, Mr Bennet noted in approval. He merely saw Andrew glance briefly at Mary, but, as Mary was not in the habit of looking at gentlemen, she did not notice.
Both Darcys greeted Mary politely and then they took their seats. Fitzwilliam, perhaps as interested in books as in one of Mr Bennet's silly daughters, was hoping it would not be left to him to choose a book to discuss, whereas Andrew's idea of discussing anything consisted mostly of listening.
"Mary suggested that we discuss real heroes, because their virtues might be greatly overrated," Mr Bennet announced. "She has, I think, read enough books to be able to come with examples."
Mary herself looked taken aback at hearing such a suggestion being ascribed to her. Her father and she had not discussed any suggestions at all, but she would perhaps not sound knowledgeable if she protested. If she was too stupid early on, she might be sent away.
"That would apply to heroes in romances for sure," Fitzwilliam said tentatively when he thought of overrated virtues.
Mr Bennet grinned at how quickly romances were surfacing in the discussion. Really, fishing was no fun at all if the fish were so eager to bite. "Real heroes, I said. But I thought you never read romances, Mr Darcy?"
"I do not," Fitzwilliam hastened to say. "But I have heard enough of them to know that the heroes in them are never very realistic." The library had a deceptive air of cosiness and comfort and Fitzwilliam did not distrust the older gentleman sitting opposite him. If he could not admit to himself that he had come with Elizabeth in mind he certainly could not credit that motive to anyone else.
"Indeed," Mr Bennet agreed. "Many a silly young man goes through enormous trouble living up to those ideals. However, by real heroes I meant...but what would you consider a real hero?" He was testing his guests and he would get no further if he told them about his own opinions.
"Someone courageous and brave," Fitzwilliam said vaguely. He had no idea how to define it precisely. It was one of those things that were tacitly understood. A hero was a hero and it had always been so. "And noble. In possession of all those good qualities. Accomplishing great feats."
"Is not the greatness of the feat dependent on the character of the person?" Mr Bennet wondered. "If we take your preferred example, a romance, it might be a great feat to win an unwilling lady, yet a small feat to win a very willing lady, yet the action is the same in essence."
Fitzwilliam coloured upon hearing Mr Bennet say romances were his preferred examples. They were not, but he was a guest here and he could not be frank. He tried to think of something polite to say, but he had to think too long and the opportunity passed.
"Winning a willing lady can also sometimes be a great feat," Andrew remarked shyly, thinking of Richard and Caroline's progress. She had been willing enough when the action had finally occurred.
Fitzwilliam felt he had to steer the topic away from romances and winning ladies. That was not what he had come for, was it? And it had very little to do with true heroism. "I was thinking more of battles."
"If there was ever a romanticised thing it is the account of a battle," said Mr Bennet. "That is of course needed to justify them, but I shall not bore you with my personal ideas on battles. It was the hero we were speaking of. Mary is well-versed in quoting from Greek mythology, as well as from Shakespeare, both of which contain numerous heroes, none of which she really likes." He glanced aside at his middle daughter.
Mary clicked her tongue in annoyance. Her father was again misrepresenting her opinion for some mischievous reason of his own. "There is not so much satisfaction in seeing a good man conquer evil as there is in seeing a bad man conquer the evil within himself," she said a little testily.
"By which she does not necessarily mean bad to mean very bad," Mr Bennet clarified. The ease with which they could be riled was amusing him. Only the younger Darcy brother was beyond his influence. He was quiet, but he did not appear to have something he wished to keep hidden.
"We all have our failures."
"And I am glad for it," her father commented. He would not amuse himself half so well if nobody had any failures.
"I am not." She was sure he was making fun of her particular failure right now. He often seemed to tease her for the same things.
"But think of it, my dear, if nobody had any failures you could never admire them for conquering them. It must be a good thing, in a sense."
"Are we using literature to speak about people in general?" They had not mentioned a single book yet, nor a single hero. She could mention examples of both, if necessary, and a lot more.
"But of course. That is what it is for. It is nothing but a projection of someone's ideas of people in general. Or would Mr Darcy disagree and say that we should take literally what is written?" Mr Bennet turned towards Fitzwilliam. Perhaps he was scaring them all into silence. Certainly the younger seemed a bit shy. Perhaps the elder was too. Some people believed shyness was a family trait.
"Not in all cases," Fitzwilliam said cautiously. "But in some I would say that they are objective accounts of real events." He had read many historical books and he had always found them very educational. Some had been so dry that they could not possibly be subjective.
"If you and I should write an objective account of the same event I doubt that it would be the same." Andrew dared to say this because he knew he was not wrong. He could name examples too, if Fitzwilliam wished to hear them.
Mary nodded. "My sisters and I frequently disagree about particular events too." They had disagreed about Andrew, for one. Lizzy and she would give different accounts of his character, but she thought hers might be the correct one.
"I am glad to hear the Darcy brothers are as dissimilar as my daughters," said Mr Bennet. "I have often heard you described as completely interchangeable. Are you," he said to Andrew, "given that you seem to agree with Mary about the impossibility of objectivity, also sceptic about portrayals of heroes?"
"Sometimes," Andrew said, deeming this the best possible answer. This was not his brother he was speaking to, but a stranger. He was not always very confident with those.
"Writers are inclined to make a person appear to advantage," said Mary.
"Whereas ordinary people are inclined to make a person appear to disadvantage," Mr Bennet said as if he was suddenly enlightened. He thought of his daughter Elizabeth. "Does that not often happen, Mr Darcy?"
Fitzwilliam wondered why he was being picked on constantly. "I am sure I have no opinion on the matter. It is not a practice I engage in." He had quite lost the thread of the topic.
"But perhaps you have seen it done. Why do you think it is so completely opposed to what happens in writing?"
"I have often read writings in which real characters were not done enough justice, however," Fitzwilliam protested. "I think you are oversimplifying the matter." If it was this simple the opposition would have occurred to him long ago.
"But with ordinary people it is often a question of judging too hastily. Ah! I see your brother agrees." Mr Bennet saw Andrew look as if he agreed.
Andrew nodded. He, like all other people, believed he was not likely to judge too soon, even though everyone else was. Fitzwilliam did it very often.
"You must have a plan, Papa, in bringing this all together," Mary complained. "But it is not at all clear." Her father did not stick to one thought long enough for any of them to voice a thoughtful opinion on it. Before they could consider the matter, he would make an illogical jump to something else.
"Do you pride yourself on your discernment, Mary?" he inquired.
She could not very well say yes in company of two Darcys. "Sometimes. And it depends on whom you would compare me with."
Mr Bennet chuckled to himself. It was quite an accomplishment to have Mary admit she did not always pride herself on her discernment. This was a fruitful session indeed, if, he suspected, somewhat confusing to the other participants.