Beginning, Section II, Next Section
The opening half of the opening paragraph of this chapter has been shamelessly borrowed and adapted from its inspiration's Chapter 17, and uses many of Ms. Austen's own words.
Chapter Eleven:
Posted on Sunday, 18 May 2008
Over breakfast the next morning, Lizzy related to Jane what had passed between George Wickham and herself. Jane listened with astonishment and concern; -- she knew not how to believe that that Darcy could be so unworthy of Charles's regard; and yet it was not in her nature to question the veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as George. It pained her to think that he might have endured such an unkindness, and this invoked all of her sympathies. In classic Jane-fashion she resolved to think well of both young men, to defend the actions of each, trusting that there had been some unfortunate misunderstanding behind the whole matter. Lizzy was not so sanguine -- she was fully disposed to think that Darcy was all in the wrong, George all in the right, and Bingley a misguided pawn -- but she curbed her tongue so as to not disturb Jane any further than she was already.
"I am sorry that this should have meant that Charles went elsewhere last night," Jane did add, a moment after the argument and a little wistfully. "I haven't seen him in a little over a week -- we did have dinner that one time, and it was wonderful, but I wish he was easier to get a hold of. I'll be leaving soon."
"Poor, dear, sweet Jane," Lizzy cried, coming up to her sister and wrapping her arms around her shoulders. "I'm sorry to bother you with George and Darcy and all this, when there are really important things at stake. But you'll see him this weekend for sure," she added, fingering the beautiful invitation to Bingley's ball that lay in the center of the table. "I'll say one thing for Caroline Bingley, so does seem to have good taste, despite all of my fears to the contrary."
"I gather that she's a very good party-planner," Jane said. "I understand she could have made it her career, only she decided that writing her column for magazines would be more dignified."
"And perhaps she hates to be at the beck and call of other hostesses?" Lizzy asked with a laugh.
"She is very independent," Jane agreed. "Do you have a dress for the ball?" she asked, changing the subject.
"No, not yet. Charlotte is going to take me out shopping in Dundee on Tuesday, and if that's unsuccessful, we'll appear here in Edinburgh on Wednesday. That should leave Aunt Frances a little time to alter anything that needs altering. Did I tell you she'd offered? She seems in raptures over the whole event and has decreed that while I may be a student of modest means that I should be dressed like a lady."
"That's sweet of her. I bought a dress last week. Want to see it?" Jane asked, pushing her breakfast plate toward the center of the table and getting up.
"All right," Lizzy agreed, and followed her sister into the flat's modest bedroom. Jane pulled open the closet and removed a garment bag, which she unzipped. Lizzy admired the lovely creation inside, a fitted, sleeveless white satin gown, patterned with black and sky blue. "Oh Jane, you'll look gorgeous in that. And you've set an impossibly high standard for me. Charlotte will have her work cut out, helping me."
The shopping trip in Dundee proved difficult though not, in the end, unfruitful. Charlotte, with all of her familiarity with the city from her days as a student, knew where to look for clothes, even as Lizzy had originally lamented the possibility of finding anything appropriate in so relatively small a city from the ones she was used to. Charlotte, with an exclamation of "bosh!" soon corrected her friend's outlook, and led her to establishment after establishment that held a different selection of clothes, some of them even fancy enough for this elaborate ball. Charlotte succeeded in finding a dress soon after their search had commenced, choosing an elegant red gown that distracted the observer from the plainness of her features. Lizzy proved to be more fastidious in her selection, turning down option after option with the memory of Jane's elegant-and-yet-actually-aesthetically-interesting choice.
"I don't mean to be so difficult," Lizzy said, after turning down yet another offering. "It's my coloring, really. A lot of these are beautiful, and would look amazing on someone like Jane, or one of my cousins, but when your hair has even a hint of red in it, you've got to be really careful about what you wear."
"You hair isn't red," Charlotte pointed out. "Golden and a bit pink maybe. You could get away with that pink dress there."
"No," Lizzy maintained, stoutly.
"The blue one?"
"A color that deep will make me look washed out. I have that problem a lot."
"Have it your way. There's one more place I can think of to try, and then we're off to Edinburgh tomorrow -- where we'll probably meet a lot of these very same dresses, but at steeper prices."
Lizzy shrugged, and followed her friend dumbly to the final establishment. On arriving, she gave a small crow of delight as she observed one of the mannequins in the window. "There it is! My dress!"
Charlotte studied the mannequin and the dress. "It's a nice dress," she said, agreeing with Lizzy. "And I think that sort of darkish lavender color would look good on you. And the beading is pretty. Shall we see if the cut works on you?"
The cut did work, and Lizzy and Charlotte soon returned to St Andrews with triumphant garment-bags hanging in the back of Charlotte's tiny vehicle.
Back in St Andrews, Caroline was in full swing as a prospective hostess, ordering about the teams of caterers and musicians she'd hired for a test-run of the event. She was pleased -- she loved throwing parties. Especially really elegant ones with which she could show off her taste and many excellent qualifications for becoming a wealthy businessman's wife. Charles found himself enjoying the whirl of activity, too, thinking fondly of the chance to spend most of the evening with the lovely Jane Bennet, whom he had seen entirely too little of in these past weeks. He frowned, thinking of the banking crises that his bank worried loomed on the horizon, and hoped that if they sent him off to London that it wouldn't be until Jane had also gone back there. You didn't meet a girl like her -- so sweet and kind and beautiful -- everyday.
If Caroline thought of Jane and the other Bennets, it wasn't very much at all. She was pleased: the guest list had reached impressive proportions, and there would be quite enough people of rank, breeding and minor celebrity appearing for the ball to ease the pain of having to invite the Highland Hammie Haggis family. She had worked hard to pad the roster of guests after all, calling in favor after favor in order to organize and populate the ball within a scant three weeks, and she was understandably proud of the results. She even thought that Darcy's old aunt would be coming, the aunt who was rich as Croesus (whoever that was), whose father (Darcy's grandfather, of course) had been an earl, and who had a ridiculously beautiful chateau in the Loire valley that Caroline had always wanted to visit. If she (Caroline) could make a good impression on the old bat, maybe she'd be able to wrangle a visit there during one of the old lady's vacation times -- she was an academic like Darcy, Caroline thought -- guest of Lady Catherine de Bourgh sounded very well indeed. And of course it was always handy to befriend the family of the man whom you hoped yet to marry. Perhaps it was time to revisit her student French? Caroline wondered.
She was sure to pounce on Darcy the next time he stopped by the house, not only because she was determined to keep his attention for herself but to ask him more about his aunt.
"Have you heard for certain if your aunt is bringing anyone with her on Saturday?" she asked, waylaying Darcy in the now-emptied drawing-room as he dropped off a crate of malts which he had promised to donate to the event.
"Aunt Catherine you mean? Yes, I think she's bringing one of her protégés along. I haven't met the young man though, even if he's apparently a fellow history student here."
"I invited all those students on your list, Will," Caroline offered, changing the subject slightly. "They do know what black-tie means, don't they?"
"I'm sure," he answered, shortly. "You didn't have to invite them, you know. I just drew up the list in case you needed numbers."
"Of course I invited them if you gave me their names! I dare say it'll make the event a little more intellectual. And I invited your advisor too, what's his name? That lovely old man."
"Dr. Alban."
"That's the one. He's bringing his wife, too. I do look forward to meeting her."
"Have you met him?" Darcy asked with some surprise.
Caroline ignored him and continued to think over the guest list. "And is your cousin coming?"
"Anne? I don't think so." Caroline was pleased. She didn't particularly like Anne de Bourgh, for all that she'd only met her once. It rankled to see the successful, charming, well-bred girl. Anne was everything Caroline aspired to, and deep down inside she knew that she hadn't gotten there yet. "Is there anywhere in particular you'd like me to put these?" Darcy asked, gesturing to the crate he had been carrying.
"That's the Glen Leigheas twelve-year? Oh, thank you. I've decided that I'll set up the bar over here in the dining room. It's been a trick, I tell you, organizing the layout for this ball, but I think I've got it all planned now. Bar here, band in the drawing-room. And of course the buffet in the dining-room too. I'm glad Charles got a house with such large, open rooms. They may be horrendous to heat, but they are handy when one has eighty-three guests coming."
Darcy nodded, and hoisted up the crate once more, carrying it into the other room, which was currently full of decorators and caterers setting up for the weekend to come.
"Where will you eat tonight and tomorrow and all, with everything all tops-turvy?" he asked Caroline with some curiosity.
"Out," she said, promptly. "I wouldn't dream of eating in the kitchen, and I don't want to disturb the set-up."
"Of course," Darcy agreed, politely, stashing his crate behind the bar. He looked around at the decorations that were going up.
"Are you throwing a ceilidh?" he asked, with some surprise.
"Of course," Caroline said. "Why not? I needed a theme, and this one fit rather well. I even hired some professional dancers to lead the sets. And the food is themed to fit as well -- I thought I'd serve pheasant."
"And whose tartan is this, that you're decorating with?" Darcy asked, looking about him. He knew that neither Charles nor Caroline had the rights to any tartan he knew of. He also recognized the tartan, but wanted to know Caroline's rationale for using it.
"Why yours, of course," she answered, with some surprise. "Charles and I don't have one, and since you're always here, I thought it made you sort of a third host. Actually, I sort of thought that you were one. I mean, I couldn't have invited all of those people I don't know without including your name on the invitation, so I included it." She beamed up at him. Darcy shrugged, and turned to leave.
"What time do you want me to come on Saturday?" he asked. "Guest-time or third-host-time?"
"Third-host-time for preference, Will, dear."
He nodded, and departed, reflecting on the event to come. He was a bit annoyed with Caroline for having the presumption to use his tartan and his name for her party, but reflected that she was probably right ... he did spend enough time over there with Charles to make it a logical enough -- if not perhaps completely reasonable -- conclusion to jump to. He hoped she wouldn't make him spend most of his evening playing host. He'd hoped to have his time to himself, and perhaps to spend some of it with the alluring Lizzy Bennet. Such an opportunity was not to be missed; he would be able to enjoy her company without seeming pointed, as he feared he had been the weekend she had come to stay with her sister. He was very much afraid of revealing his feelings for her, and took comfort in the fact that it would be perfectly natural to ask a fellow student to dance once or twice, and perhaps to chat with her, especially in the company of the irreproachable Dr. Alban. Yes, despite all of Caroline's presumptions in organizing the event, he thought he might enjoy this ball -- or, rather, ceilidh.
Lizzy was quite pleased when George Wickham finally called her up. She'd been wondering what had happened to the charming man, and had begun to regret that she hadn't asked for his phone number in return. He offered an excuse, however, when he made his first call, and offered to promptly make it up to her.
"You can't be thinking well of me," he said, ruefully, after hearing Lizzy's guardedly-friendly greeting. "I wouldn't think well of me either, it's been entirely too long for me to wait before calling you. I come to you as a supplicant, with only the excuse that there's been a version of the 'flu going around staff here, and I've had to work every single night, usually on double shifts. I'm afraid I barely managed to get home after all that, and couldn't even think of calling."
"I forgive you," Lizzy replied, warmly. "I hope you're not in danger of getting sick yourself?"
"Well, I think it would have manifested itself by now if I were, so I'm probably safe. I was calling to ask if you'd do me the honor of accompanying me out for drinks tonight. I'll even come to you, a friend has been lending me his car for the week while he's out of town, and I don't have to give it back until tomorrow."
"All right then," Lizzy agreed. "Is eight a good time? I'll meet you on the corner of South and Bell, and we can walk over to one of my favorite pubs."
"Eight works well, my lady. I'll see you tonight."
Lizzy smiled when she met George, pecking him Continentally on either cheek as she said hello. She was amused to see that he had once more armed himself with a flowers before a pub night out.
"Do you have a partnership in some florist's shop?" Lizzy asked, with amusement, accepting the flowers -- a bouquet of flame-colored calla lilies -- with a smile. "Or are you just that chivalrous?"
"I realized that I might have set the bar too high, meeting you on an evening when I'd just given your cousin a present, sight unseen. So I decided to play it safe tonight. Which way do we head?" Lizzy steered him towards her favorite pub, and they soon found themselves a vacant table and a set of drinks.
"So," he asked, when they'd settled in. "How are things with you?"
"Pretty decent," Lizzy replied. "I got a good grade on a paper I just got back, and my research paper with my advisor is going really well. And I actually found a great dress for this weekend, too."
"This weekend?" George asked, with some curiosity. "You seem to have a busy social calendar, parties every week?"
"It's not that busy," Lizzy said with a laugh. "I was free tonight with only five hours' notice."
"True -- and I am very glad of it. So, what's the fancy occasion?" George asked, good-naturedly.
"A ball. A... how on earth do you pronounce this word?" Lizzy asked, writing out the word ceilidh. She wasn't very familiar with the term, though she'd seen it on a number of university social event calendars.
"Ceilidh," George said, promptly. "That should be fun. It's a Gaelic sort of dance-gathering. They can vary quite a bit, but there should be Scottish dancing and music. I'm a dab hand at many of the dances myself."
"But I don't know any Scottish dancing," Lizzy protested. "I can barely waltz and foxtrot as it is. Where am I going to learn before Saturday?"
"You won't need to," George said, soothingly. "There's bound to be someone calling out the dances, and if you know any type of dancing I'm sure you won't have trouble with it. It's fun, as I said, and definitely something you should experience while you're over here in Scotland."
"Then you come as my date. You can lead me in the dances, and I won't make a fool of myself." Though it was a little irrational, Lizzy had the suspicion that Caroline and Darcy had somehow chosen the theme of the event to embarrass the unfortunate American guests.
"Really?" asked George. "I'd like that. When is it?"
"Saturday."
"I can definitely do Saturday, it's my night off this week. What time?"
"Hold on a sec, I'll check. I've got the invitation in my bag somewhere." She rummaged in her shoulder bag and found the invitation, stuck as a bookmark in her day-planner. She handed it across to George, and then set about reorganizing the contents of her bag quickly, completely missing the surprise on George's face as he read the invitation, with it's large listing of the three hosts of the event at the top. He regretted having so hastily agreed to be the date of the beautiful young woman across the table from him.
"Anything wrong?" asked Lizzy, curiously.
"Not at all," George said, promptly.
"Oh," she said, catching the words he wasn't saying. "Of course -- the party is at Charles Bingley's house, is that a problem? Darcy will probably be there, but there's supposed to be like a hundred people coming. Why not use the chance to rub your patience and Darcy's unkindness in his face? Prove that even though your finances and prospects have suffered, that you're still as much a successful man as he is in other ways!"
"You're right," George said, softly. "That's just what I'll do."
"Good," Lizzy said, cheerfully. "I can even offer you a couch to crash on for the that night, if you'd like, or ask my aunt and uncle to drive you back to Edinburgh, if you can't get a lift on your own."
"That's kind of you," George said politely, not showing any dismay he might feel about the offer of the attractive girl's couch. He made to hand the invitation back to Lizzy, but was interrupted by the arrival of a strange individual, who seized hold of it instead.
"Elizabeth Bennet," the strange young man said. " Signorina Elizabetta, we meet again! I've found you at last -- it was quite the detective chore, you know, when you didn't tell me your name. But you know a true historian by his resourcefulness. Knowing that there could only be one gorgeous ginger-haired American Scottish historian here, it was perfectly simple! I know all about you now. Marshall scholar, Dr. Alban's newest advisee. You live with our fellow historian Charlotte Lucas, I hear -- Carlotta who studies the Young Turks. You live in Angus House don't you?"
Lizzy found herself with her mouth hanging open. Not only was she shocked to see the unfortunate Wilfred Collins again, but she couldn't believe that he was standing there reciting personal information like that as if it was something to be proud of, and not incredibly scary and stalker-like. And that he was insulting her. She hated to be called ginger. She was saved from replying, however, by George, who grabbed back the invitation firmly.
"And you are?" he asked Collins, in a very deep, masculine voice.
"Wilfred Collins, of course. Lizzy and I are old friends." George raised an eyebrow at Lizzy -- old friends when Collins apparently had only learned her name recently? -- but Collins paid it no heed. "I see you're going to the Bingley's party on Saturday. So am I, excellent, excellent. Lady Catherine de Bourgh arranged my invitation, I told you she was most accommodating. She sadly won't be able to attend herself -- her college at Cambridge has an emergency meeting scheduled, I fear -- but she has insisted that I attend, as planned, even without her. I'm looking forward to it, you know, because quite a few important people will be in attendance. Not in the least Catherine's nephew, of course, the Fitzwilliam Darcy, who is a student here, you know, in addition to being one of the Darcys of Glen Leigheas. Not that I am much of a scotch drinker, of course, but they are certainly important people in Scotland."
By this time George Wickham's mouth was hanging equally open. Collins seemed to acknowledge the other man's presence for the first time, and asked mildly, "Who are you?"
"George Wickham," George said brusquely. "Lizzy's date for the party."
"How nice," Collins said, slipping beside Lizzy on the bench at the table. "I hope you will let me dance with your charming young woman," he added, ignoring Lizzy's shocked laugh beside him. "I have been studying ceilidh-dancing from a book, you know, and she's sure to need as much help from informed leads as she can get. ... Yes, thank you miss, a round for the table, absolutely -- I'm fond of an Italian wine -- well, the house red will do. Please, bring out a bottle and glasses." He dismissed the barmaid and smiled jovially at his two shocked and reluctant companions. "Now, where were we?" he asked, when the wine had arrived. He took a deep sip, dying his mouth a dark purple, making it seem even more incongruous on his pale face. "Did I tell you what else Lady Catherine said to me when she called up to tell me she couldn't come to this party?"
After half an hour of unstoppable commentary from Collins, he finally got up to use the restroom, and Lizzy tugged George's sleeve. "Please, let's run away. Now," she begged.
"Good thinking," George said, gathering up his belongings and leaving a generous tip under two of his empty glasses. "Though I'm sad that he cut our evening short. I'd brave another hour with that man for your company, you know," he said with a smile, as the two made their way out into the freedom of the street.
"Really?" asked Lizzy, who had found herself very impressed at George's patience and relative civility with the Medici moron. Her opinion of him had only skyrocketed since their first -- already very favorable -- meeting.
"Absolutely," he said.
"I have a better idea," she said. "Come back with me to my flat, and we can finish our evening out with the contents of my flat-mate's liquor cabinet."
"I'd like that," George said, slipping a friendly arm around the pretty young scholar. "Would that be your flat-mate Carlotta who studies the Young Turks, signorina Elizabetta?"
When Collins returned to the table he found no trace of his companions, neither there nor immediately outside the pub. Closing the door on the faraway traces of joyous laughter, he shrugged and made his way back to the bar alone.
Chapter Twelve:
Posted on Monday, 26 May 2008
Lizzy had to hand it to Caroline Bingley -- the woman did know how to throw a party. From the moment that Lizzy had arrived at the house, walking with Charlotte past the rows of cars parked neatly and expertly on the lawn by a hired valet, she's known that this was no mean event that she had been invited to. Gay music filtered from within the house, along with the swell of dozens of people all conversing with one another.
Charlotte pulled Lizzy towards the door. "Come on," she said, "I'm dying to see inside the house." Lizzy followed her friend and they soon joined the short line at the door that was waiting for admittance. The front door was thrown open, so Lizzy caught sight of the activity within: immediately ahead of them there seemed to be some sort of receiving line, and then beyond that were a large number of people in elegant dress milling about. It seemed that most of the guests had already arrived before the two history postgraduates.
Lizzy hadn't meant to be arriving fashionably late. Her aunt, uncle and cousins, who were bringing Jane along with them, had decided to arrive almost the moment that the doors would be open; Lizzy had originally planned on following close on their heels, in some sort of desperate attempt to oversee her aunt's and younger cousin's behavior. She'd been thwarted in this, however, and had mouthed her apology to Mary -- who had much the same plan in mind -- when the others finally departed from Lizzy's flat without her. George had been supposed to come before the whole group went along together, but he'd never showed. She'd called him a number of times, but there had been no answer, so after forty-five minutes of waiting, Lizzy had finally left George a message with very complete instructions as to how to find her at the party, and accompanied an increasingly-impatient Charlotte to the party, on foot.
"Elizabeth," Caroline said in icily polite tones, as Lizzy drew to the front of the line of guests to be received. Elizabeth Bennet would never be a favorite of hers, and she was already annoyed enough with some of the party's attendance; Lady Catherine de Bourgh had bowed out of attending at the last moment, as had the Hon. Lloyd Barringer and society photographer Cherie Markl. Caroline rather thought it a cruel trick that three such desirable guests should have been prevented from coming to her party when every single one of the students invited had come. Still, there was nothing that could be done at this point, so Caroline put on her politest face. "So glad you could join us this evening."
Lizzy made a polite reply, and presented Charlotte to her hostess.
"We've met at a couple of parties," Charlotte added cheerfully. Caroline made a demurring reply and ushered her guests further inside the hallway where they were arrested by Charles, with a silent Darcy standing a little ways behind him.
"Lizzy Bennet! How lovely to see you," Charles said, oozing all of the sincerity and amiability that his sister lacked. "You look absolutely beautiful this evening."
"Even in my coat?" Lizzy asked, laughing, for she and Charlotte alike were swathed from head-to-shin in layers of thick wool.
"Even in your coat," Charles promised gallantly. "Speaking of which, there's a girl around here somewhere who will take your coat for you and put it upstairs. There's also a room to tidy up in, if you'd like." Lizzy nodded, and Charles moved on to Charlotte, expressing his joy in seeing her again.
"Would you like me to show you where the coats are being put?" Darcy suddenly asked Lizzy, coming forward from behind his friend.
"I... all right," she agreed, seeing that Charles had now moved on to the next set of guests and that Charlotte was already divesting herself of her layers. The whiskey laird seemed to smile, and gestured that the two fellow historians should follow him. They trailed a little behind him upstairs, where a frazzled-looking girl was attaching neat labels to a pair of coats. When she looked up and saw Lizzy and Charlotte, she came forward and asked their names before filling out a new set of labels. Darcy melted away silently, and Lizzy scarcely realized he'd gone until Charlotte made a comment about it.
"I think he's supposed to be a host," Lizzy said. "He's probably off to do host-y things."
"Of course," Charlotte said, doubtfully. She found it very curious that a host with a swarm of other guests should take the time to escort two rather unimportant ones all the way upstairs so that they could store their coats. She'd had her suspicions regarding Darcy and her friend before, but this only intrigued her further. Lizzy, however, proved uncooperative to probing and insisted on finding her sister and the rest of the Bennet clan.
Lizzy was glad that she'd seen Jane's dress ahead of time: it made her much easier to find, in the crowded rooms. On the sisters' original visit to Charles's house Lizzy had found the house extremely large with unnecessary and inconveniently big rooms; this time, however, she found that its proportions seemed if anything a bit small, with so many other guests milling about. She and Charlotte first peeked into the room with the band to see if any of the Bennets were in there, and were rewarded by the sight of a very exuberant Lydia and Kitty dancing wildly with some of the younger guests in the party. Mrs. Bennet was found in the dining room, which had been turned into the bar and buffet area. Frances Bennet was standing beside the bar, talking loudly to a stranger about her husband's business. The stranger was politely listening, and Lizzy felt extremely grateful that there were those of the supposed "well-bred" who embraced the concepts of patience and politeness over those of petulance and pomposity.
"Aunt Frances," Lizzy said, coming up to her aunt and allowing the kindly captive audience to excuse herself and leave. "You look beautiful." And, Frances did. She was as skilled with a needle as with a baking pan, and had made over a store-bought dress to look as if it had been tailored especially for her. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her dress, even if she had no idea how to behave at a party, and that was something to be grateful for.
"Lizzy! I could say the same for you! I never would have thought of that color for you, but it does suit you. Brings out the gold in your hair more than the red, smart girl. Who's your friend, dear?"
"Aunt Frances, this is Charlotte Lucas. We share an apartment, and she's also doing a Masters in history."
"Pleased to meet you, my dear," Frances said, embracing her niece's friend warmly. "My, isn't that a pretty dress!"
"Thank you," Charlotte replied, politely, ignoring the fact that Mrs. Bennet had commented on the dress's beauty rather than Charlotte's own.
"Would you mind awfully to come to the powder-room with me for a minute, Charlotte?" asked Mrs. Bennet, kindly. "I've got a few pins here, and I think I can arrange it so that it fits even better. I don't want to steal you away from the party, but I do have an eye for these sorts of things, and I think you'll thank me."
Charlotte cast a questioning look at Lizzy, who nodded, and Charlotte followed Mrs. Bennet back out of the room and up the stairs again. Frances Bennet meant well, Lizzy knew, even if she had the tact of a two-day old caterpillar. Sighing, Lizzy went up to the bar and ordered a drink, before resuming her search for the other members of her family. She spotted the back of Jane's gown in the doorway to the hallway, and went towards her.
"Lizzy!" Jane cried, embracing her sister. "You do look beautiful this evening. Isn't this a lovely party?" Jane swept a hand to encompass the tasteful decorations, the flowing bar, the lively music and the happy guests.
"It looks so," Lizzy agreed. "I'm sorry to be so late."
"That George didn't show?" Jane asked.
"Sadly not. I hope he has a good excuse. Still, it's fun to get all dressed up. Have you seen much of Charles so far?"
"Not so much, he's been in the receiving line. Look! I think they're finally turning the door over to good old housekeeper-Mary, who's cleaned up very nicely, don't you think? Here Charles comes now."
"He's cleaned up very nicely too, hasn't he?" whispered Lizzy to a blushing Jane as Charles arrived before them.
"My favorite Bennet sisters," he said, with some satisfaction. "Well, it looks like most everyone is here, so I'm ready to have some fun. Jane, could I possibly ask you to dance?"
"I'd love to dance," Jane replied, softly with a smile in her eyes. "Though I don't know the steps, of course."
"Neither do I, neither do I," Charles insisted, brightly. "We'll learn together. That's what what's-his-name, the caller-man, is for." He led Jane off to the drawing room, leaving Lizzy once again alone. She was joined shortly, however, by her cousin Mary, who was smiling.
"I'm enjoying the spectacle of a couple of English siblings throwing a Scottish-themed party," she said to Lizzy by way of greeting.
"Well, at least they've fallen back onto tasteful stereotypes," Lizzy replied.
"Yes, I noticed that Caroline didn't order in party-favors from Dad's chain," Mary said, with a laugh. "Have you tried any of the pheasant? It's actually awfully good. I thought it might be weird."
"No," Lizzy answered. Then, catching sight of Charlotte all returned with a freshly-pinned dress, she beckoned her friend over to join them. "What did Aunt Frances do? It looks like a completely new dress!"
"Bit sexier, too, don't you think?" Charlotte replied with a laugh, doing a twirl around. "Your mother is a whiz with a pin," she told Mary.
"I've often said the same thing myself," Mary solemnly replied.
The group was soon joined by James Sullivan, the young man at whose party the Bennets had first met Charles Bingley and his friends.
"Fellow academics, I salute you! I was trapped in a corner with some of this Bingley's banker friends, and I can tell you I felt the need for some fellow historians. Could I induce any of you ladies to dance? The Scottish traditional dances are not precisely the same as the Irish variants, but I promise light feet and a blithe smile. Any takers?"
"I'd better say hi to my uncle first," Lizzy said, "but I may take you up on the offer later."
"I'll dance," Charlotte said with some determination. "It's been years since I went to one of these things -- not since my undergraduate days, for sure -- but I'll willing to brush off my dusty dancing knowledge." She took James's arm, and went off into the drawing room.
"I know where Dad is," Mary said, taking Lizzy's arm as the two were left alone once more. She led her cousin to a third lit room where a number of card tables had been set up. Mr. Bennet, who had been seated at one of these tables, immediately rose to his feet when the girls came in.
He came and hugged his niece. "Lizzy, I feel absolutely spoiled to be seeing you again so soon. You look lovely. Are you here to dance or eat or drink or make merry in some quieter fashion?"
"Perhaps all of the above," she answered, laughing.
"I don't suppose that you'd like to join in the game?" he asked, kindly. "Monty here was just saying that he's supposed to pay periodic attention to his wife, who's rattling about here somewhere. It's not a good hand, we think, I'm afraid."
"No, I was thinking I'd continue to mill around, maybe watch a little of the dancing."
"Make sure you dance yourself, my dear," her uncle advised. "Scottish culture is a rich a wonderful thing -- I should know, my people exploit it daily -- and you should use your years here to become acquainted with its modern incarnations as well as its medieval ones."
Lizzy promised that she'd do her best, and Mary agreed to take Monty's hand of cards and settled into his seat. Thus abandoned both by her various family members, her flat-mate and her date, Lizzy made her way back towards the drawing room. She might as well dance with Charles when he was done dancing with Jane. It wouldn't do for him to dance with some of the other pretty, single young women instead.
As Lizzy entered the drawing room again she nearly ran back out of it. Right in front of her had appeared the irrepressible Wilfred Collins, who was grinning at her. She was stunned for a moment by his shiny, white teeth and lost the fraction of a second in which she might have made her escape.
"Elizabetta!" he said to her, seizing up one of her hands. "I told you I'd be here, and here I am. Is your friend not around?"
"No," Lizzy said shortly, not wanting to go into details about how she'd been stood up by her new boyfriend with this man. Maybe he'd think that George was just in one of the other rooms, and back off.
"Excellent! Then I must seize my chance to dance with you while I can. Come this way." He seized her other hand, and pulled her out onto the dance floor, where a new dance was just forming. Lizzy mouthed a silent plea for help to Jane, who was standing only a few couples away, still partnered with Charles.
"We'll be doing a Circassian Circle!" the band-leader proclaimed as the band struck up the next tune. All of you, stand in a large circle and next to your partner and take the hands of the person on either side of you." Lizzy found her hand being sympathetically taken up by a young businessman on the other side of her, as well as by the clammy paw of the Medici scholar. She followed the instructions of the band-leader dumbly. She enjoyed the dance well enough, despite her partner, she realized, as partners changed rapidly enough throughout the piece, meaning that she only danced with Collins once throughout the entire number. When the dance ended, she happily found herself on the opposite end of the room from her nominal partner, and quickly ducked away to Charlotte's safe company before Collins could find her again for an encore performance.
"You were having fun out there," Charlotte teased. "Who was that stud you came out on the floor with?"
"That was Wilfred Collins."
"So you weren't exaggerating," Charlotte concluded, with some wonder.
"No," Lizzy said, firmly. Once again the band was striking up, and Lizzy moved to the other side of Charlotte, so as to be out of Wilfred's line of sight as he stalked the room.
"Would you like to dance?" someone asked Lizzy, as she turned back away from Collins. She was surprised to realize that it was Fitzwilliam Darcy, decked out handsomely in tartan. Surprised, she found herself looking him up and down -- yes, he was wearing a kilt, and yes, it certainly suited him, she realized -- before looking at his face once more.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," she said, hoping to buy another moment to think.
"Will you dance?" he repeated.
"All right," Lizzy found herself saying, pushed towards him slightly by Charlotte.
Darcy took hold of her hand in his -- which was refreshingly dry and warm after Collins's -- and led her out into the floor. As the announcer called out the name of another dance, Darcy steered her into position beside him, and she suddenly found Darcy's arm wrapping around her back and his right hand holding her own, resting on her shoulder. She began to wonder briefly whether the halter-top of the dress was as good an idea in practice as it had been in theory, not quite sure what to make of the soft weight of Darcy's sleeve against her bare back. He was standing to one side of her, and took up her left hand as well, holding it in his own left hand, bent up in front of him. Evidently, Lizzy mused, this wasn't going to be a dance like the one with Collins. This was going to be a dance where you actually touched your partner for more than a few moments...
"Are you all right?" Darcy asked, as Lizzy fidgeted.
"Yes," she answered shortly. "What do I do now?"
"Get ready to step forward, using your right foot. Take four steps, and I'll show you the next part. The man will call the steps as we go, but I'll help you get the idea." The music began in earnest, and the man called out four steps. Lizzy managed these easily, and then found herself pivoted around and the positions of the hands swapped under Darcy's easy lead. After a moment Lizzy found herself spun around under his arm, and then she finally found herself in his arms, polkaing about the room. She was glad that she had some small dance training already -- she was pleased that she didn't have to look a complete fool to Darcy, just one unfamiliar with the particular steps of the dance.
"We'll begin again in a moment," Darcy told her, smiling as if he was her friend and not her detractor.
"It seems easy enough," Lizzy commented, swinging about in the polka. Her partner nodded, but said nothing. Soon they were standing side by side again, hands held up in that strangely personal position, and Lizzy resolved that he should bear some of the onus of conversation now that she no longer needed to focus solely on the steps of the dance. "I commented on the dance," she said. "It is your turn to speak. You could comment on the music, or on the numbers of dancers, perhaps."
"I'll say whatever you'd like me to say," he said politely, swinging her around again with the new hand positions.
"That will do for now," Lizzy decided with a sigh. He might be a surprisingly able dancer but he still wasn't much of a conversationalist. "I will just observe that it's quite a lively turn-out, and how private parties seem to have a more congenial air than public ones. Now we may be silent." He twirled her around again, and they began to polka again. Lizzy wondered how many verses of the cheerful march the band was going to play -- they seemed determined to continue, so she sighed again, and kept her mind on her feet.
"Do you always talk when you dance?" Darcy asked after minute or so.
"Sometimes. It's polite. It would look pointed if partners didn't talk or laugh at all. We don't have to talk any further, however. We've done our duty for convention."
"Is that your opinion, or are you trying to gratify your understanding of my wishes?" Darcy inquired, baffled by her clipped tones.
"Both, I dare say," Lizzy answered. "For I have observed that both of us can have the tendency towards silence, not speaking unless we have something witty -- or perhaps condemning -- to say."
"I don't think you're like that at all," Darcy replied, utterly mystified by her portrait. "And how accurate it is for me, I'll decline to say, not having been brought up to flatly contradict others without reasoned argument. You think it quite an accurate image, no doubt."
They were beginning to polka for the third time, and Lizzy glanced in agony over at the band once more. They still seemed determined to play. "Perhaps." The fourth set of steps began, and Lizzy tried a new topic.
"I saw you briefly in Edinburgh the other week."
"And where was that?" asked Darcy, pivoting her around.
"In the --- pub, on Rose Street. It was my cousin's birthday, and we were just making a new friend." She couldn't see his face without pointedly turning to look, but she felt his hold on her tense. He said nothing until they were facing one another in the polka position once more.
"George Wickham is blessed with happy manners as may ensure his making friends. Whether he's capable of keeping them is, of course, a completely different matter."
"He's been unfortunate enough to lose your friendship," Lizzy said, heatedly, with angry eyes. "And in such a manner that the quality of his life and future prospects have been severely injured!" Darcy didn't answer her accusations, but instead stared at her in stony silence for a minute or two, before Charles came running up alongside them, following as they slowly circled the room.
"You're marvelous at this sort of thing, Elizabeth!" he complimented her. "Darcy's an excellent teacher, isn't he? I hope we'll all have chances to dance like this again, it's so much more fun than I'd realized. Maybe I'll have a chance to throw another party some time soon... a celebratory party..." His gaze caught Jane's across the room, and Jane smiled back at her host. Darcy, who had just been smiling a little, noticing Caroline's thoroughly put-out look in his and Lizzy's direction, suddenly found his amusement gone. He frowned at the exchange between Charles and Jane, just as Lizzy smiled warmly when she saw it. Charles noticed nothing aside from his own happiness, and made a little bow towards the dancing couple. "I'd better leave you two to get on, but I just wanted to say how nice you looked out here."
The ceilidh band seemed to be working against Lizzy, for they didn't even end the dance now, but continued on, yet again. She wondered if they derived pleasure from torturing their captive dancers.
"Charles's interruption has made me forget what we were talking about," Darcy said brusquely, as he tore his eyes away from Jane.
"We weren't," Lizzy answered shortly. "We tried several subjects, and failed miserably to sustain a conversation. It could not have been a more opportune moment for him to interrupt."
"Well, how's your paper for Dr. Alban coming?"
Lizzy stared at him. "You seriously want to talk about my paper in the middle of a party?"
"Why not? It is something we have in common."
"I prefer to leave my work at home when I go out for the evening," Lizzy retorted. "Otherwise I should never have a chance to recharge before setting back to work on it. Do you have some amazing ability to always concentrate on your work, all the time? Do you judge those who can't do likewise? You do judge people, rather, don't you? I remember that you said that your good opinion once lost is lost forever." She spun a little violently under his arm, before resuming the interminable polka.
"No. I don't have any such ability, and if I did, I wouldn't judge others on the basis of it. Why do you ask?"
"I'm trying to make you out," Lizzy said shortly. "And I'm not making much progress."
"Perhaps you shouldn't try to judge me on the basis of a few conversations," Darcy answered mildly. "I'm not sure you'll get an accurate picture."
Lizzy opened her mouth to answer, but then realized that the dance was finally ending. She nodded her head and walked away, leaving Darcy completely confused as to her strange combination of curiosity and hostility. ... And with the realization that -- regardless -- he'd never enjoyed dancing with anyone so much in his life.
Chapter Thirteen:
Posted on Monday, 2 June 2008
The Bingley ball had not, Lizzy decided the next morning, been an entirely enjoyable event. Her younger cousins had gone from lively to downright embarrassing as the evening flowed on -- along with the drinks. They'd run largely unchecked, too: Frances Bennet had been busy enjoying her night in the high life, and her husband had remained secluded at his card table, impervious to the demands of his family. Mary had tried to restrain the girls it was true, but she'd been rebuffed and had taken to sulking and nursing her pride by ignoring them for the rest of the evening, and discussing one of her current classes with a mild-mannered young historian Lizzy vaguely recognized from her various meanderings around the departmental library. ... And Jane had been too enraptured to notice anything or anyone whose name was not Charles.
That, then, was the good that had come out of the evening. Lizzy was glad for her sister -- extremely glad. And further glad that Charles at least didn't hold Jane's cousins' behavior against her -- but then, he'd been too busy to notice anything or anyone whose name was not Jane.
It had been worth it, Lizzy decided: the being stood up by the new boyfriend, the cousins' outrageous behavior, the aunt's loud bragging, those two very different and yet both unpleasant dances... Lizzy would gladly suffer all of these over again immediately if only she could see her sister looking this radiant every day of the year.
Though Lizzy was still prostrate in her bed, willing the sun to go back down, she could hear Jane whistling in the common room. Happy Jane, who had spent the night on Lizzy and Charlotte's couch so that she could go to brunch with Charles this morning. Good, sweet, happy Jane, who deserved to be whistling if ever a person deserved to whistle.
A soft knocking on Lizzy's door broke her thoughts, and Jane cracked open the door slightly.
"Lizzy?" she asked.
"Yes?" Lizzy asked in reply, stirring from her prone position.
"I'm heading out now. I hope you don't mind that I borrowed some of your clothes? I somehow think I'd get a few odd looks if I showed up for brunch in an evening gown."
"No, no, that's fine," Lizzy assured her. "Have a nice time." Her sister smiled, and shut the door again.
Lizzy lay back on her bed, listening, absorbing the sounds of the morning: she heard the front door shut some moments later, and light footsteps walking down the stairs (Jane was off to see Charles, then). She heard the sounds of people stirring on the street outside her window, of the heater clicking on again, of one of her roommates entering the common room and filling the coffee pot. She sighed, and decided she might as well get up herself.
It turned out that Charlotte was the mystery coffee-maker.
"Good morning sleepy-head," Charlotte said to her friend, when Lizzy had emerged from her bedroom.
"Sleepy-head yourself," Lizzy shot back. "I see that you're as awake as I am."
"Yes, and our loving flatmates have been up for hours and already gone off for the day, leaving the party-goers to snooze until noon. It was some party though, wasn't it?"
"Impressive certainly."
"You didn't have fun." It was a statement, not a question, and Charlotte studied Lizzy's face closely, curiously. "You looked beyond amazing, you danced practically all night with any number of gorgeous men and you ate what was some of the best Highland fare I've tasted in all my years as a student in this country. ... And yet you didn't have fun. Pardon me if I'm not falling over myself with sympathy."
"Collins wasn't gorgeous," Lizzy pointed out.
"But Darcy was. You must have noticed that you, that horrible woman who was the hostess and Dr. Alban's wife were the only women he danced with at all last night. And since Moira Alban is about sixty and happily married and Caroline Bingley a total witch, I think that's saying something."
"I don't care what," Lizzy said shortly, stealing the first cup of coffee that Charlotte had poured out. "He was a good dancer, I'll grant him that, but he was rude, proud and overbearing. And he's not all he seems to be -- George grew up with him, remember, and knows."
"Oh yes, George," Charlotte said shortly. "And whatever happened to dear George last night? Has he explained himself? Because standing up a woman you've started seeing is just not right."
"I don't know," Lizzy said, starting. "I never checked my messages again. Let's see what he has to say for himself." She ran back into her room and took up her mobile phone, which she had been too party-weary to consult after first returning to her flat. There was just one message, a text message time-stamped from that very morning, just an hour or two earlier: Caught that flu it read, couldn't make it. feel like hell. & heel. xx G. Lizzy showed it to Charlotte, who shrugged.
"Well, that's a reason," she granted, "but it's not a very good one. Couldn't he have at least called to say so last night? I mean, texting may take a tiny modicum of brain power, but calling's dead easy, especially with electronic address books and everything."
"Maybe he was too sick," Lizzy said, defending George. "I've been so sick that I can't think of anything except lying there in agony."
"Possibly," Charlotte said a little doubtfully. "Possibly."
Frustrated with Charlotte's doubting manner in regards to George and his absence from the Bingley ball, Lizzy stirred herself to action and decided to spend the day working in the main library instead of her flat. She bathed, dressed and gathered her books and computer together, determined to get away and not to fight with her best friend at the entire university. Charlotte shrugged as Lizzy left the apartment, but she didn't wish to fight either, particularly not over George Wickham, whom she thought had treated Lizzy rather poorly.
The morning was decidedly cool out, but beautifully clear. The cold sea-breezes that ran through the town bit through Lizzy's coat and sweaters, causing her to draw her scarf more closely around her throat, to stuff her wool-covered fingers deeper into her pockets. She was glad when the reached the library, an ugly modern building of glass and cement, a structure incongruous amongst the older, more beautiful buildings on the street. She hurried along the path towards the door, swung through the dismal, much-flyered foyer and flashed her ID card at the guard by the entrance, before finally winding her way upwards, finding her way towards the carrel she shared with another postgraduate on the third level.
It was reasonably quiet up here; there were a few other students present, typing away at their laptops or browsing through books -- on the whole those who appeared in the library on a Saturday afternoon were there to work.
As was she. Lizzy sighed, and pulled one of her books towards her, thumbing through its pages until she had reached the chapter she was interested in. She began to read, taking notes longhand in a notebook. She became absorbed, cataloguing facts, formulating ideas for her big term paper that she was working on for her special class with Dr. Alban. She was quite angry when she was disrupted, a half hour later.
"Elizabetta?" a too-familiar voice asked, near her ear. She jumped in her seat, and turned to see Wilfred Collins standing there beside her, grinning.
"Yes?" she asked, all of her annoyance showing in her voice. She didn't know why she'd been inflicted with this annoying young man, but she rather wished he'd go away and leave her alone. Wasn't it enough that she'd danced with him the night before?
"How delightful to see you again," he said brightly, stealing a chair from the currently-empty carrel behind her, and swinging it around so as to be right beside her, neatly boxing her in between her own desk and the one behind her. "There was such crush last night, I never saw you again... so tragic, but now it's all made right. I had wanted to tell you what Lady Catherine told me, such a lovely thing!"
"What?" asked Lizzy, ungraciously, hoping that once he'd said his piece that he'd leave her alone to get on with her work.
"Well, I wrote about meeting you in my last e-mail to Lady Catherine -- we correspond every week you know, about my work -- and she had the most complimentary things to say about you. She said that the Marshall program was quite a respectable thing and that to have won one its prizes was no mean feat."
"How kind of her," Lizzy replied, blandly.
"And she advised me -- positively encouraged me -- to cultivate your acquaintance further, as you've obviously developed some pull with the British consulate now, as well as the general American academic class. Which is relevant because I'd quite like an American professorship when I'm done with my doctorate in a little over two years. And I've decided that you are the perfect person to help me with this."
"Oh?" asked Lizzy, bemused and annoyed, both.
"Yes! It's perfectly simple. We'll get married. And since you are an American citizen, it'll be miles easier for me to get a job there when we're husband and wife. You'll be done here by then, too, and can finish your studies in the States -- and since I'll have an assistant professorship somewhere, I can begin to help you with connections for your own appointment." He was grinning at her, as if he'd been very clever and helpful.
"No," Lizzy answered him firmly. "No, no, no."
"What's not to like about it?" Collins asked, confused.
"Everything!" Lizzy exclaimed as heatedly as she could while still using a hushed tone appropriate for the library setting. "Absolutely everything!"
"Why?" His confusion was still complete. "Should I have thrown in that I think you're extremely attractive and that we'd have beautiful and horrendously intelligent babies?"
"No!" Lizzy said, her voice breaking into a shout in revulsion. Some of the other students looked up, and Lizzy made a silent show of apology to them, before lowering her voice and attempting to reason with Collins in such a way as he might give up. "There are an infinite number of reasons why I'm saying no. Firstly: it's just ridiculous and I'm just not interested. Secondly, I'd like to do my doctorate here, if I can. Thirdly: if you're really as wonderful a scholar as Lady Catherine seems to think that you are, you should still be able to get a job in the U.S. without an American wife. Loads of people do it. We've got a million different schools, and I'm sure they need Medici scholars somewhere. Fourthly: I'm not going to marry anyone for their own convenience -- if I ever marry, it'll because it was my idea, and not theirs. Fifthly, I don't like you, and sixthly I have a boyfriend -- " Or I think I do, anyway she thought briefly if I'm right and Charlotte's wrong "-- who wouldn't like to hear about all of this."
"You're just a Masters student," Collins cut in, indulgently. "A mere child, I see. You don't know what you want. I didn't know what I wanted when I was a Masters student -- but Lady Catherine showed me. She showed me that I should come here, and not stay at Cambridge like I thought I wanted to do. If you'll give me your phone number then I'll have Lady Catherine call you, and explain the advantages of the match. You're not thinking clearly, my dear."
"I beg your pardon, but I am thinking very clearly."
"Ladies often say 'no' when they mean 'yes,'" he added, condescendingly.
"Well, oddly enough, I say no when I mean no and yes when I mean yes," Lizzy rebutted. "So perhaps I'm no lady like your esteemed patroness. And I'm saying no."
The Medici scholar's face clouded with anger, and he frowned at her.
"You will regret this," he said, rising. "Several years from now, you will be regretting this."
"If I am," Lizzy answered angrily, "I'll be sure to come and beg your forgiveness."
"I look forward to it," the haughty Collins said, summoning up his dignity as he rose to leave. "I look forward to it Miss Bennet." He stomped off, clearly in a snit, knocking into someone coming out of the stairwell as he charged wrathfully off.
Angry with Collins but glad that he was gone, Lizzy kicked the chair he had recently vacated out into the aisle, and sighed as it toppled over. She rose to put it properly away, and looked up to see Fitzwilliam Darcy standing by the door to the stairwell, watching her with some curiosity, and glancing back down the stairs at the fleeing figure of the other doctoral student. Lizzy scowled at him -- causing Darcy to shrug and wander off into the stacks -- and returned to her books, venting her anger with the vehemence of her note-taking.
"I give up," Lizzy said aloud, returning to her apartment well before she'd intended to. Charlotte and Jane -- the latter of whom was sticking around waiting to say goodbye to her sister -- both looked up at Lizzy's entrance, Jane from a crossword puzzle, Charlotte from her computer.
"Give up on what?" asked Jane kindly, tucking the crossword puzzle into her handbag.
"Men." Lizzy went and tossed her bag onto her bed, and then returned to the others, sitting down on the couch between them.
"But men are so wonderful," Jane said.
"Your men are," Lizzy said, grumpily. "You've got Charles throwing you parties and buying you brunch. I've got George sending apologies a full thirteen hours after the fact, and Wilfred Collins proposing to me on the third floor of the library -- because he thinks it would help his chances of landing a job in the States in about two years."
"What?" asked Charlotte, looking at Lizzy with surprise and sympathy on her face.
"When I got to the library, Collins comes up and blocks me into my carrel, and starts going on about how his former advisor thinks he should cultivate my acquaintance for my connections, and how he's decided that if we get married when he gets his degree we'll both get wonderful jobs in the states and churn out beautiful and smart babies."
"Good lord," Charlotte said, shocked.
"It doesn't sound very romantic," Jane admitted.
"No," Lizzy agreed. "It doesn't. It wasn't."
"You said no, right?" asked Charlotte.
"Yes. I said no. -- And he just wouldn't take my answer, telling me that I was too young to know what I wanted."
Charlotte snorted. Jane looked concerned.
"And then he said that I'd be sorry, once I finally shoved my answer through his head. And I said, fine, I'd come and beg for his forgiveness if I ever was. And then he yelled a bit and left."
"I can't help but feel a bit sorry for him," Jane said. "Of course you couldn't marry anyone you hardly know and whom you don't love, but it must have been humiliating for him."
"For him?" Lizzy asked, completely incredulous. "Try humiliating for me. He made this botched and unwelcome proposal in public. And to top that off, Fitzwilliam Darcy caught the end of it. I'm sure he and Caroline Bingley are laughing about it as we speak." That had really been the last straw for Lizzy -- everything with Collins had been bad enough, but seeing him standing there, putting two and two together had been a blow too far, and as soon as she'd finished with the book she'd been working with, she'd quickly fled the scene, completely mortified and embarrassed.
"I'm sure you're mistaken," Jane said soothingly. "I'm sure Darcy's too much of a gentleman to laugh at your misfortune." Charlotte nodded, agreeing. She didn't know Darcy well at all -- probably the least well of the three girls -- but she didn't think that he was the sort to gloat. Caroline Bingley: yes. Lizzy, for that matter: yes. Fitzwilliam Darcy: no.
Lizzy snorted, showing just what she thought of Darcy's gentlemanly qualities -- after all, George (whatever his possible faults as a date) had shown her the truth about them.
"Do you need me to stay?" asked Jane, after a moment.
"To sooth my wounded pride?" Lizzy answered. "No. You should probably get back to Edinburgh. I'm sure you've got errands to do."
"I leave back for London on Friday -- so no groceries: I'm pretty much eating yogurt or eating out this week. And the flat belongs to the magazine's mother company, and it came furnished, so there's really next to nothing to do on the moving front. I'm tidy and I'm pretty much packed, so I'm happy to stay if you need me -- at least until tonight: I have a meeting tomorrow morning." Jane looked concerned, watching her unhappy sister.
"No, it's fine," Lizzy said, smiling at Jane. "I'll be fine. I'll go and bury myself in my books in the safety of my own room, and turn my anger into something productive."
"Good plan," Charlotte applauded. "So do you want to come along to Leuchars when I drop off Jane for the train?"
"Yes," Lizzy decided. "That way she can tell us all about Charles, and restore some of my faith in masculinity."
Later as Lizzy sat in the back of Charlotte's small car, listening to Jane talk about her day with Charles and her their hopes of seeing each other before Jane's departure for England, Lizzy suddenly felt wistful. Yes, she was glad for Jane, really she was -- but she also wished that her own weekend could have held such smiles. Wished that instead of Collins's clueless pomposity and Darcy's arrogant hauteur that her weekend could have held George's friendly smiles and laughter.
Chapter Fourteen:
George seemed to have recovered from his bout of the 'flu by Monday afternoon, and called Lizzy to ask if he could drop by to make up his earlier absence to her. Lizzy agreed, and within an hour or so had arrived outside of Lizzy's building in his friend's car, borrowed once more.
"Are you going to forgive me?" George asked, when Lizzy finally answered her door, trailing notes and bits of paper behind her. "Because if you won't, then I won't give you this." He flourished a box before Lizzy, smiling brightly.
She'd already decided to forgive him -- after all, it was the only way she'd have a shot at finding the same sort of floating-on-air joy that Jane was currently exuding -- but decided to tease him first. "Well, what is it?" she asked. "It might not be worth it."
"Chocolate," he said. "Actually, quite good chocolate. A mate of mine is dating a chocolate-artist. Didn't know that there were such things -- but my mate says that this girl says that these chocolates will buy forgiveness if nothing else will. And I take it from your flatmate's not-so-quiet comments in the background of our last phone conversation that I made a big mess of things by not letting you know about the 'flu ahead of time."
Lizzy's mouth twitched into a smile. "Oh, well, if it's chocolate... Yes, I was upset," she added seriously, "but I get it. You were sick. You'd even told me that the 'flu was going around... but still, next time call me before I wait around for you. Now, let's just forget about all that, and eat these chocolates."
"You are a very generous woman," George answered, pretending to bow before her. "A gem, a goddess. Your humble servant."
Lizzy held open the door, and let George into the flat, where he made himself comfortable on the common room couch.
"How was the grand event?" asked George lightly, though his eyes were wary.
"For me? Pretty bad," Lizzy answered, coming to sit beside him, and opening up the box of her chocolates. There was no indication as to what might be inside each piece, so she picked one up at random and popped it into her mouth. A truffle, and a rather good one, at that. She was silent while she chewed.
"I mean aside from getting stood up by your date," George said, taking up her free hand, and watching her face carefully. "You know how sorry I am."
"I meant that the rest of it was pretty bad too. You know my young cousins -- well, they showed off all of the worst traits of their age. And my aunt was... and not just my family," Lizzy said, deciding that it would be impolite to slander her aunt (even if her aunt deserved it) to a still-newish friend who had never met the woman, "it was just awkward. Wilfred Collins asked me to dance, and that was awful. And then Darcy asked me to dance, and it went on and on, and never would end. And Caroline Bingley was condescending, and, well... you get the picture. At least Jane had a wonderful time, and I think Charlotte quite enjoyed herself too."
"Darcy asked you to dance?" George asked, a little incredulous. He had a pretty clear idea that this was not something that happened everyday with his old playmate, and his curiosity was raised. This was very interesting: not only had George come upon a hell of an attractive and fun woman, but it looked like he had triumphed with the woman Darcy was showing an interest in! If he, George, had genuinely liked and admired Lizzy from the moment he'd met her, this only made her even more valuable to him.
"He wanted to talk about a paper of mine," Lizzy said, off-handedly.
"Oh," George said, not wholly convinced. He dropped the matter though, seeing as Lizzy didn't seem to care to discuss it further.
"So has Jane gone to England yet?" he asked after a moment, changing the subject.
"Not yet. Friday morning. Charles is supposed to meet her at the train station to see her off. I think it's quite sweet."
"I'm glad for her," George said. "Your sister seems a nice girl." He gazed out the window distractedly for a moment. Lizzy smiled at his handsome profile, and decided to share her Collins story with him... he's appreciate it better than anyone else, having previously seen the unfortunate young man in action.
"Guess what then happened the next day," Lizzy insisted, offering George the box of chocolates. "Or, rather, you'll never guess."
"All right, what?" asked George.
"Our friend Collins came up to me in the library, and informed me that the two of us should get married, for the sake of our careers and the procreation of superior children."
"You're joking," George said, shocked despite his previous encounters with Collins. "He didn't take the hint from the other night?"
"Oh, no. He's completely blind to hints."
"You poor girl." George scooted over on the couch towards Lizzy and slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "I should have come, vomit or no vomit."
"You could have vomited in his direction," Lizzy said, laughing.
"I obviously missed my calling," George said, smiling, pulling Lizzy over onto his lap. "From hereon I promise to protect you from him."
"Thanks," Lizzy replied. "But I think I may finally have insulted him enough that he'll keep his distance for a while."
Friday came around and as Lizzy sat in her seminar course on medieval paleography -- a requirement for the M.Phil she was pursuing -- she thought fleetingly of her sister, who was finally called to leave Scotland and to return to her publication's headquarters in London. In her mind's eye, Lizzy could see Charles and Jane strolling through Waverley station in Edinburgh, lingering and whispering together as Jane prepared to depart for the south. She hoped that they were making some sort of plans to see each other again, as she'd really never seen her sister so happy about a man before, and she genuinely liked Jane and Charles as a couple.
It came as something of a shock, therefore, when Jane called that afternoon from London, with a trembling voice.
"Jane?" Lizzy asked, surprised. "Are you all right? Did something happen on the train? Are you hurt?"
"No, no. I'm fine. I'm in London, I'm fine. I'm even back at the flat -- and my roommates even left me a beautiful bouquet of flowers in my room, and my meeting for this afternoon was cancelled."
"Then what's so bad? Other than that if you'd known about the meeting that you could have spent the weekend up here, of course."
"Well, there's that," Jane said, quietly. "And also Charles never showed up."
"He missed your train?"
"I guess. But he hasn't called, or answered his phone."
"Do you think that something has happened to him?" Lizzy asked, suddenly concerned, imagining Charles in hospital, Charles in a wrecked-car on the highway, Charles wandering around Edinburgh without his memory -- because surely unless one of these were the case, the doting Charles would have been there, or would have called, apologizing profusely, offering to catch a plane to meet up with her at the York stop, so that they might properly say goodbye.
"I don't think so," Jane answered, after a moment.
"How do you know?" Lizzy asked, wondering how her optimistic sister could be so sad, and refusing hope.
"Because I had a cheerful phone message from Caroline on my voicemail -- she must have called during one of the times I was calling Charles -- wishing me a nice trip and telling me all about how she and her brother are going to be moving back into the Edinburgh house. Apparently Darcy's sister is going to be in the city this weekend, and Caroline wants to show her the house."
"When did she call?"
"Oh, an hour or two after the train left the station. If something had happened to Charles this morning, I think she would have known by then, and she would have told me."
Well, probably, Lizzy thought, if she wasn't too busy planning how to suck up to her prospective future sister-in-law.
Unless that was it. Unless Caroline was somehow holding Charles hostage to convince him to woo Georgiana Darcy so as to bring the two families closer? It seemed far-fetched though. And surely Charles wouldn't meekly allow Jane to leave, even if that were the case?
Lizzy tried to sooth her melancholy sister, but didn't get far. Finally Jane decided that she'd be better off unpacking and sorting out her London life once more, so Lizzy let her go, wondering what on earth had have happened and how she could fix it for her gentle, sweet sister. She had little to go on, but made one last request before Jane broke the line.
"Could you forward Caroline's voicemail to me?" she asked. Jane seemed surprised, but agreed, and after a moment Lizzy was able to listen to the message herself. It didn't do anything to raise Lizzy's opinion of the snobbish blond columnist who never seemed to do any work.
Lizzy's foul mood continued for the rest of the afternoon, and she found it hard to focus on anything much at all, preferring to imagine confrontations with Caroline Bingley about Charles and Jane, confrontations that she feared would never happen now that Caroline and Charles had removed to Charles's upscale house in Edinburgh's New Town -- and there was little chance of Lizzy running into him in the circles he'd occupy there, even if she were to go to Edinburgh.
The hours moved slowly on, and Lizzy found that she could neither work nor distract herself well. She had no plans for the evening, save sketchy ones with Charlotte to hang out in the flat, and when Charlotte never appeared throughout the evening, Lizzy's frustrations mounted. She was left to pace around the flat, flipping carelessly through the television channels and gazing out the window every few minutes.
When Charlotte finally appeared, she had a sheepish expression on her face.
"Where were you?" Lizzy asked, abruptly, as Charlotte poked her head through Lizzy's door. The plans had been tentative and low-key, but she was annoyed enough today to mind that Charlotte had come home so late.
"Remember how I wanted so badly to go to hear Orhan Pamuk speak?" she said, coming to sit on the couch beside Lizzy. "How he was in Scotland to give a lecture in Edinburgh for tonight only?"
"I thought you'd been too late to get a ticket. And that's why you also had nothing to do this evening."
"Well, I found someone who had an extra seat," Charlotte said, tentatively. "So I went with him."
"Who?" Lizzy asked.
"Wilfred Collins." Her face seemed braced for Lizzy's protests.
"You're kidding" Lizzy said, incredulous that Charlotte had spent the evening with Collins instead of her, even if Collins was going to see such an important Turkish writer. "I didn't know you knew him. I didn't know he was even interested in modern Turkey. How could you -- sit next to him for a whole evening?"
"We met at the Bingleys'," Charlotte said, shrugging. "He came up to ask me where you were just after you and Darcy took to the floor. We talked about our work a bit."
"And you became best friends so that he offered you one of these incredibly rare tickets? I thought you agreed with me last weekend that he was an annoying idiot."
"I agreed that he shouldn't have proposed to you," Charlotte said. "And that he should have accepted your answer. By the way, I think he's accepted it by now. -- I just happened to run into him when I was dropping something off to a professor who's got an office in the medieval history building, and he said hi, and remembered that I was studying Turkish history, and asked if I wanted to go along with him tonight. I couldn't say no. This is Orhan Pamuk. He's won a Nobel Prize. And he's probably never going to be in Scotland again."
"Fine, so you went to a lecture with Collins."
"He's not as bad as you think he is," Charlotte said. "Mind you, I wouldn't want to marry him either, but despite his... idiosyncrasies ... he's not a bad guy. Worships that old advisor of his far too much, but he's not a bad scholar. Just really awkward. I think I managed to convince him to shave that scruffy beard, too."
Lizzy was finally moved to smile at this last comment. She may still be annoyed that Charlotte had stood her up for Collins, but she thought she understood why... and Collins probably wasn't nearly so bad to be around if he didn't have designs on you. Her frustrations as related to Charlotte ebbed a little.
"Well, I guess I'm headed to bed," she said shortly, not wanting to prolong the argument -- and it was quite late, after all. Charlotte smiled and said goodnight, and left Lizzy to enclose herself in her room. Once in bed, though, Lizzy was still restless, and seized up her phone. If there was one advantage to having a boyfriend -- however new and a little tentative as it might still be -- it was being able to call him up and vent. She dialed George's number, and smiled as she heard his voice across the line.
"Got a minute?" she asked.
"For you, definitely. What's up?"
"It's been a bit of a crazy day," she began, and described to him Jane's disappointment and her own suspicions regarding Caroline Bingley, and also Charlotte's evening with Collins. George was the perfect shoulder to lean on -- even across the phone -- and Lizzy began to relax, and soon fell into a sweet, untroubled sleep.
Chapter Fifteen:
Posted on Tuesday, 10 June 2008
The next few weeks flew by for Lizzy in a daze of activity. There were papers to finish before the Christmas vacation began and an exam to receive information about so that she could start adequately preparing during the break. She also experienced her first British Christmas season, an experience wholly unique and thoroughly enjoyable, with parties, mince pies and mulled wine, and the town center lit ceremoniously with a big to-do. Lizzy had also had a chance to go to Edinburgh to visit the German Christmas-market, reveling in all manner of delicious food and drinks there, wandering among the stalls with George, her aunt and her cousins. They'd had a merry, friendly afternoon; George had been charming and polite with Lizzy's relations, earning repeated invitations to dine at the Bennet house before the holidays. They'd managed some time alone together too, and on one of these occasions George had eagerly taken Lizzy up in the ferris wheel in Princes Street gardens, and had shown off his adopted city and its bustling inhabitants from this metal perch in the sky.
Lizzy would be heading home for the holidays soon, home to the States for the first time in nearly four months. Jane was due home as well, and Lizzy hoped that the cheerful family holiday would distract her melancholy sister from the fact that they'd never heard another word from either of the Bingleys, despite Jane's repeated overtures, only now abandoned as she had lost hope.
Lizzy's departure overseas was also due to be the end of another chapter of her life from the fall; George, charming and fun-loving George, had found a better-paying and less dead-end job in Glasgow. He was set to move to that extraordinary Western metropolis at the start of January, and the slightly increased distance made his sweet but still slightly tenuous relationship with Lizzy a little impractical for them to keep up as before. After he'd broken the news to Lizzy, the two had decided to take a break from each other as they each figured out their schedules and priorities for the coming months, to see if it would be practical to rekindle their relationship.
Lizzy was sad in a way: she and George had been seeing each other regularly, twice a week, and she still found him as eloquent, handsome and sympathetic a partner as ever. Still, she knew that it wasn't a relationship meant for real permanence -- they had fun together, but she couldn't imagine a life with him, and she wasn't in love with him -- and their parting had been friendly, with assurances on both ends that they would stay in touch and figure out the next step together when the time came.
But, all in all, it was good to be back in the States, Lizzy decided, when she'd settled back into the Bennet family home. Jane looked a little happier about the removal too, ensconced in a chair by a roaring fire in the living room, looking over the Christmas cards their father had received from family friends and relations. Jane actually broke into a smile after reading one of these, and Lizzy caught her sister's glance, curious to know what joyful thought had finally broken through to Jane in her gloomy post-Charles world.
"Aunt Mary and Uncle Ed are arriving tomorrow!" Jane announced, smiling with real pleasure. Mary and Edward Gardiner were the girls' favorite relations, the aunt and uncle who had stepped in as additional parental figures for the two girls when their mother had died. The Gardiners lived in Boston, not so very far from the Bennets, and Edward Gardiner had created a tradition of spending the holidays with his dead sister's family, a tradition that was treasured by all parties.
"Tomorrow?" Lizzy asked, also delighted.
"Yes. It says so here."
"And as I told you girls earlier," their father said, coming into the room with small cups of strong hot chocolate. "But do you two world-travellers listen to your old father? No."
"Sorry, Daddy," Lizzy said, coming up to him and relieving him of two of the cups. She handed one to Jane, and then delicately hugged her father while balancing her own cup aloft.
"It's good to have you home, girls," he said happily. "It's been altogether too quiet. I expect you two to liven things up a bit."
"I'll do my best," Lizzy replied, though secretly she wondered how Jane would cope. "Are they bringing Sarah?" she asked, referring to the Gardiners' only child, a girl some five years older than Lizzy, several years older than Jane.
"No, she's doing the inaugural holiday visit with her fiancé's family. That's one of the reasons your aunt and uncle are coming a full week before Christmas," he said, cheerfully. "Because they were also lonely and childless."
"You did all right without us," Jane said, placing the cards she'd been browsing through back on the mantle, and fingering one of the sprays of holly that her father had placed on it as further decoration. The room was bright with lights and greenery, all ready for the imminent holiday, except for the tree, which was waiting for a time when the entire party could decorate it together. Thomas Bennet might have been lonely, but he hadn't been idle.
"Let me get a good look at you," Mary Gardiner said, holding Lizzy at arm's length after giving her a warm hug. It was the next day, and the Gardiners had finally settled into the Bennet house after their journey. "You've grown, haven't you? Or maybe lost some weight. Your proportions are off, from what I remember... in a good way. But you do look happy. I'm glad that you're enjoying your fellowship so much. We love to get your e-mails."
"It's wonderful," Lizzy said, happily sighing, and leading her aunt into the living room where they could talk more easily. "I love my advisor. I'd really like to stay on and do my doctorate there, if I can swing the money. I don't think I'd have trouble getting into the program, Dr. Alban's been making encouraging noises about it."
"Well, we'd be quite sad to lose you to the other side of the Atlantic for even longer, but we're also quite excited at the opportunities you've been given. Classes going well?"
"Yes. My favorite is still that special class with just me and Dr. Alban. It's amazing -- I've always been interested in this material, but my old undergraduate advisor couldn't help me nearly as much, seeing as it's such a specialized field. But in Scotland they have people who study not only study Scottish history, but even people for specialized periods of it!"
"Well, it's good that you're there, then," her aunt said comfortingly. "And how's the boyfriend?"
"George? We're taking some time off. He's moving to Glasgow, and I'd like to reassess before we decide whether to continue."
"That seems sensible," her aunt said. "You're far too young to think about too serious a relationship, as it is."
"And I don't know that it was. Serious, I mean," Lizzy said, voicing an opinion she hadn't yet shared aloud. Her aunt caught the expression in Lizzy's eyes, and nodded, understandingly.
"Some time to think can be very valuable, and I think you've been wise to take this step back. From your e-mails George sounds very charming, but I've never gotten the feeling that either of you was passionate for the other."
"I like him. He's great to be around, and rather a remarkable guy, given all the hard times he's been through. And I like having a boyfriend there, it's a sense of belonging that can be incredibly valuable when living in a foreign country."
"I'm sure, dear. But even if things don't end up working out with this George, there are many other young men out there in the world, you know. Maybe even at your own university." Mary Gardiner didn't like to say it outright, but she had some reservations about this George's lack of a college degree, hardships or not. -- Even if Lizzy were passionately in love with the fellow, she didn't think that Lizzy could really and truly respect someone whose education was so inferior to her own as an equal partner. And her aunt wished only the best for her clever niece: she wished her real and genuine love and a long-lasting marriage, as the Gardiners had, as Lucy Gardiner Bennet had had before her death. She tactfully changed the subject.
"And how is Jane? She doesn't write us as often as she used to."
"She likes her job," Lizzy said, cautiously. "But she's had a little heartbreak, which has been making things a little blue all over for her."
"Oh yes, I remember you mentioning that. The Edinburgh banker with the stuffy sister -- of course. Has she heard nothing else from either of them?"
"No. And now that Charles has moved back to Edinburgh, she doesn't have his address, and he's not returning her phone calls. I'm pretty furious about it."
"Do you think that it would help if we took her on holiday?" Mary Gardiner asked. "Now that Sarah's living her own life, your uncle and I were considering taking a trip over there, to see what's keeping our favorite nieces away from us."
"You should ask her," Lizzy said. "She'd probably like it a lot."
"We were imagining something with two legs," her aunt said. "One in England: I've always wanted to see the Lake District, and though I don't know that February is the ideal time to do it -- that's when your uncle has a lull at work due -- but it might be quite nice. Anyway, our idea was to have another leg in Scotland, so we could see you. Your uncle was quite interested in seeing some of the famous distilleries there, and I must admit I'm also a bit curious; my father was a travel-writer, you know, and when I was a little girl he rented us a house in the Speyside area, while he was writing about some of the old, family-owned distilleries there. I've always wanted to go back and of course to see more of Scotland, now that I'm grown. Do you think you might have a free weekend or two?" she asked.
Lizzy smiled brightly. "That would be lovely," she said, enthusiastic about the idea. "Here I am, a scholar who's working on the idea and identity of the Highlands, and I've never been. You could save me from being a fraud! And I do have some free time around then -- last week of January and first week of February fall between the end of my exam period and the start of the new term."
"I'm so glad. Edward!" Mary Gardiner turned around and addressed her husband, who had just entered the room, arm in arm with a remarkably cheered Jane.
"Yes, my dear?"
"Lizzy's got some free time at the beginning of February and would love to come with us to the Highlands."
"I'm so pleased. Jane, do you have a little free time in February to barge around somewhere scenic in England with your aunt and uncle?"
"I'm sure I could arrange it, yes," Jane replied. "I'd love to show you my favorite haunts in London."
"You two aren't leaving me, too?" Thomas Bennet asked, coming into the room with a box full of ornaments for the Christmas tree. "It's bad enough to have my two daughters across the sea, but my dearest friends as well?"
"It's just a temporary thing," Mary Gardiner soothed, laughing. "Surely you don't begrudge us a vacation, Tom?"
"Well, not if you earn it. Get up, Lizzy, and go fetch another box. There's a very bare tree standing by the window, and I think it wants to be clothed." The family soon fell into the last of the Christmas preparations, and it was just as it had been for many years -- no ghosts of Charles, or exams, or George... just family, and memories and old, dear friendships.
Christmas Day itself passed pleasantly for all persons under the Bennet roof. The day after was a bit of a disaster.
The travesty happened in the afternoon, arriving -- innocuously enough -- in an elegant cream-colored envelope bearing a foreign stamp, forwarded on to Jane from her old Edinburgh flat. It was a Christmas card from Caroline Bingley -- and Lizzy could not believe the woman's gall in sending it.
My dear Jane, it read I do hope that the holiday season finds you well -- I'm sure it was simply fantastic in London, where I assume you are now. I must say that I'm sorry to be away from it all this year, but we've been having a perfectly lovely time in Edinburgh. We've been seeing quite a lot of the Darcys lately, of course, and will be spending Christmas up at Glen Leigheas, where I hope Charles and Georgiana will continue to cultivate their friendship, before all of us head back to Edinburgh to enjoy my very first Hogmanay celebration. I don't suppose you'll be in Scotland at all in these coming months, which is entirely too bad, as we have no intentions of coming south of Edinburgh any time soon. Still, even though our friendship was sadly cut short, I'm sure you've been enjoying all that a city like London has to offer. I'm sure I quite envy you. Wishing you a good holiday,
- Caroline Bingley.
For such a relatively short thing, it played utter havoc with Jane and Lizzy, and thus with the adults who cared for them. Lizzy was furious, Jane crushed. Each was justified in their very worst fears: Lizzy in her suspicions regarding Caroline's ulterior motives (Charles and Georgiana Darcy "cultivating their friendship"?!), Jane in her anxiety that Charles really didn't care about her (he had no intention of coming to London -- not even on a business trip, during which she might see him -- and was apparently interested in another girl). Too crushed to put on a cheerful facade for the rest of her family, Jane fled to her room, leaving her father and the Gardiners anxious. Lizzy, following a little ways after her sister, tried to soothe Jane.
"I'm sorry Lizzy. I must seem like such a fool, to be moping like this, after over a month. I'll pull myself together soon, I'll move on with my life with good cheer."
Lizzy was doubtful, seeing as Jane had apparently fallen quite deeply for the friendly banker, so said nothing and just held her sister, stroking her beautiful dark hair.
"You doubt me," Jane protested, hearing Lizzy's repressed comments as well as if she'd spoken them aloud. "But don't. I may remember him as being the most... amiable man I've ever met, but that is all. Give me a little time and I'll soon be back to rights. ... I have this comfort at least, from this letter... at least now I know that Charles is indifferent to me, that all of the fancy was on my side. And at least I know that he is happy, and well."
"You are too good, Jane. You are too sweet. Take your comfort where you can, though I will continue to imagine that your dear correspondent has her own share of blame to bear."
"Caroline? I'm sure you're mistaken."
"I don't think she ever thought our family quite good enough," Lizzy said, quietly. "I didn't think she was too enthusiastic about any of us, as decent as she always was to you. I think she'd much rather force her brother to spend time with Georgiana Darcy than have him chase off to London after you -- if she somehow figured out how to lessen his attachment to you, she could hope to bring the Darcy and Bingley families closer together -- surely you noticed how she had her eye on the whisky laird?"
"I don't doubt that Caroline would like her brother to hit it off with this Georgiana," Jane said sensibly, "but I think you're imagining a ridiculous plot that cannot be true. Whatever Caroline's feelings, she cannot have forced her opinions on her brother. What sister would do that, unless the object of her brother's affections was extremely inappropriate? No, Charles could not have been away from me if he cared for me as I thought he did -- and evidently he didn't care. For if he did, then Caroline is in the wrong, and Charles is abused and... no, everyone would be in the wrong, and that leaves me quite as unhappy as before, even thinking about it. Let me think of this in the best light I can; let me think that Charles never cared, and that I was mistaken earlier. It's easier that way."
Lizzy bowed her head, and was silent. Who was she to deny her beloved sister whatever small comfort she could find?
Regardless, the rest of the holidays had had a pallor cast over them, and Lizzy was almost glad when the time came to leave her home once more.
Chapter Sixteen:
"This is deliciously festive," Caroline Bingley commented to Darcy, as the two stood to the side of the very full ballroom at Leigheas House on Boxing Day. She gestured about her at the merrymakers who filled the room -- a loud democracy of reveling distillery and estate workers, townspeople and neighbors. "I simply won't be able to enjoy Christmas anywhere else after this," she added, with a slight inflection to stress her meaning. He knew that she was trying to flirt, but was grateful that her desire for his good opinion was keeping her from poking fun at the humbler guests at the party, who ordinarily cooked, cleaned and managed affairs at the house and the distillery. Darcy knew that she was classist -- he even knew that he was classist in many ways himself -- but he cared for these people ( his people, whom he had known all his life) and he wanted them to feel merry and easy at this festive time of year. He made some excuse to Caroline, and moved on, away from her and towards a window where it was a little cooler. He felt hot, restless.
The holidays, this gathering -- they were doing nothing for him. He should have been merry, but he wasn't. What, then was the problem? He had been reunited with his sister -- that was certainly a merry event -- and also with his very best friend (if also with Caroline -- which was a distinctly less merry occurrence). The staff at the distillery and estate had come together to organize a truly memorable party for the Darcys' traditional Boxing Day gathering, with exquisite food, lively music and good-natured company... but it hadn't been enough; when not called upon by his office as host and laird to join in the festivities, Darcy had spent at least a third of the party standing to the side and sighing, trying to figure out why the familiar faces, traditional frivolity and the knowledge that he was serving his roles as master and employer well weren't cheering him as they had always cheered him in the past.
It was probably the music that first told him what he had been trying to ignore for all this time -- the glen's musicians had struck up another lively number as his many and diverse guests danced about -- the lively march brought him back to the last time he'd heard that piece, the last time he had been at a ceilidh, and -- most importantly -- the company he'd had during that song. He knew was the problem was: he missed Lizzy Bennet.
He hadn't seen her since the Bingleys' party. He'd lingered in St. Katharine's Lodge by Dr. Alban's office once or twice, hoping to see her, but she'd never appeared in any of these instances. He hadn't been able to fabricate another excuse to join her in her private tutorials with her advisor, but he occasionally heard of her from that good man, who was obviously quite as enamored with her as a young scholar as he, Darcy, was enamored with... her.
There it was, he had admitted it to himself without his usual reservations and qualifications. Somehow between her lively manner, pertness, cleverness and her dedication to her scholarship, he had fallen for the American girl. ... Never mind that she was an American only in the UK on a temporary basis, never mind that her relations were vulgar opportunists -- but weren't these some of the reasons that had haunted both him and Caroline about Jane Bennet and her apparently disinterested acceptance of Charles's attentions? -- but Lizzy was also a good seven or eight years younger than he was, and a George Wickham sympathizer to boot. ... And in spite of all this, he wanted her here with him, he wanted to whirl her around the dance floor, to introduce her to all these kind folk who had raised him and whom now he looked after, to pour over the volumes in his library with her, and to walk by her side along the shores of Loch Leigheas.
But this was all fantasy. Lizzy was thousands of miles away, back in the United States with her old friends and her family. Maybe even with her old boyfriends. ... And he was unlikely to see her for quite some time even when she returned to Scotland; she would be busy, studying for her exams. He had no exams, he had finished the completed draft of his thesis, and merely needed to finish revising pieces of it, enlarging portions of it, before his defense. ... So they wouldn't meet over the exam period. And then there was the vacation, when he would be here in his Highland wilderness and she would be who knew where -- Italy was a popular destination for Americans spending time in Europe, he knew. Which meant that he had no chance of settling his unruly heart one way or the other for over a month. And he didn't know how he'd bear it.
As Darcy stalked around the room, he noticed that there was another figure who was not enjoying the party properly. Charles Bingley looked remarkably glum; it had been weeks and weeks since Darcy and Caroline had detached him from his unhealthy infatuation with Jane Bennet, and yet his spirits hadn't rallied. He'd been polite over the holidays -- Charles was most always polite -- but he hadn't been himself. Darcy had called on Georgiana to help cheer their guest -- Georgie was far better with people (at least, the people she trusted) than he was, at times -- but this seemed only a temporary solution. Now that Georgie was playing in the dance band, and Caroline busy inspecting every facet of the room and the assembly, Charles had been left alone to brood. Darcy suddenly felt sympathy, for he, too, was in love with someone unsuitable -- but at least he would see Lizzy again at some point, and at least there was a chance that she might care for him, unlike her cold sister and Charles.
The atmosphere in St Andrews after the Christmas holidays was profoundly different than it had been before them; the festive air had dissipated, and had been replaced with one of concentration and resignation. The townspeople were in the midst of coping with the gloom of January, the students with the exams that would decide the vast majority of their class marks. Suddenly these students had rather more focus, and the library was full of everyone from first years to postgraduates, anxiously checking over readings they'd done, preparing for the exam period and the academic weight of its consequences.
Lizzy was one of these library-bound students. She knew that she had been doing well in her classes, but the British concept of exams was a little daunting for her -- so much rode on one test. She also found that she missed her special independent course with Dr. Alban, the course tailored especially to her interests and her hopes and dreams as a scholar. This course had finished with an impressively long paper that Lizzy had turned in over the holidays, leaving the Marshall scholar to focus solely on her less interesting, less specialized courses. All this made it hard to focus, and Lizzy was immensely glad when her final exam was done with, and she could finally gaze at the dawn of the new day without a knot of exam-nerves in her stomach.
Emerging from her cocoon of books and notes and cups of coffee, Lizzy gazed at her calendar with some confusion: there was no more studying to fill her days, at least for some weeks (for her exams had been scheduled around the start of the exam period), but she had other things to plan for, other people to consider -- like her aunt and uncle Gardiner, like Jane, like George, like her Bennet relations.
The Gardiners were the first to be dealt with, and the easiest. They had bought their plane tickets the day before Christmas, and had laid claim on Lizzy for twelve days at the end of January and the start of February. Lizzy confirmed dates, meeting times and places, and found herself looking at her aunt and uncle's itinerary of historical and cultural sites with some excitement; here she was, here she was going to the Highlands at last, to the places she had been writing about this last term, and in her senior thesis as an undergraduate even before this! Harlaw, Elgin, Urquhart... Moray, Lochaber, Badenoch... these had been fantasy names on a page, but she would finally see them, and finally associate the historical figures and events she'd been working on with their actual surroundings. She couldn't wait, and her eyes danced along the pages of the itinerary with joy.
And, then, with alarm: her aunt and uncle seemed to want to stay for several days at a place called the "Glen Leigheas Inn," which immediately conjured up apprehensions in Lizzy's mind: Glen Leigheas was a name quite familiar to her by now, between Caroline's name-dropping and George's dire story, and Lizzy had absolutely no desire to visit the haughty Fitzwilliam Darcy's home during the vacation period... when he would probably be home, too. She made a note next to the inn's name and the notation underneath of a proposed visit to the distillery, and set aside the itinerary; she'd have to find out whether Darcy was going to be there at that time or not, and possibly arrange an alternate activity for that day -- maybe there was something more historical in the neighborhood that she could claim to be longing to see? ... But this was a problem better left until she had better information.
Lizzy turned to the next item on her list: Jane. Poor, resigned Jane had returned to London, where her spirits did not seem to have lifted very much at all. She reported meekly to Lizzy each week in a phone call about her life in that glorious metropolis, but there was never much for her to tell. Her work was going well, her editor liked her writing, she'd been to this and that restaurant, club, cultural attraction. She'd evidently also spent rather a lot of time curled up under an afghan watching movies, unwilling to go out and live her life to its fullest while she was still coping with the aftermath of her broken heart. Again, this was concerning but there wasn't much that Lizzy could do about it just now. She couldn't even travel to see her sister, as Jane was to attend a conference in Cardiff during the days Lizzy currently had free before the Gardiners' visit. -- So Lizzy increased the frequency of her phone calls to her sister, and made plans with the Gardiners to make sure that they helped Jane back into the world when they visited her. But there was nothing much else Lizzy could do.
The next item on Lizzy's agenda was George. She had no idea what to do about her aborted relationship with him: she liked him, she enjoyed his company, and they'd had a lot of fun together. But she also remembered Mary Gardiner's comments over the holidays, and her insinuations that perhaps Lizzy shouldn't be wasting her time with someone who hadn't even graduated with an undergraduate degree, whatever his circumstances -- and Aunt Mary had had a point, at least as concerned a long-term relationship with George -- which she might well be embarking on, should she ask him to get back together with her.
Lizzy was saved from her indecision, however, by one of the next items on her list: her cousins. Once again the younger Bennets had been told to visit their sister at her university, and Mary Bennet had brought them along to Lizzy, while the divinity student finished a review session for her last exam.
"You haven't decorated your apartment much," Lydia commented, as Lizzy showed the two younger girls into the flat. "When I have a flat next year, I'm going to do a theme, I think -- maybe tropical. It would be funny, wouldn't it? Tropical Scotland?"
"Do you know where you'll go next year?" Lizzy asked, steering the girls onto the couch, and supplying them with snacks.
"Dad says I have to go to school," Lydia said grumpily. "I'd rather take a year off -- lots of my friends at school are, a 'gap year' they call it here -- but Dad says that I should start in the fall. I'm hoping to go to Edinburgh, with Kitty, but Dad's not sure if my grades are good enough. There are some other schools, too, of course, but it would be fun to stay where I already know so many people, and the good pubs and clubs and all. Plus Mom would probably do my laundry for me." Lizzy could well believe it, having seen how Frances Bennet doted on her youngest girl.
"If you do get in, are you thinking of getting a flat with Kitty?" Lizzy asked, drawing her other cousin into the conversation.
"Maybe," Kitty said. Lizzy could tell that Kitty wasn't completely wild about the idea of having her sister around for another year, not when her sister always stole the limelight wherever she went. Lydia paid no attention to her sister's unenthusiastic tones, and instead prowled around the flat, ducking into Lizzy's room and studying the photographs pinned up on her wall.
"Oooh! Good one from Kitty's birthday... Dad looks hilarious! Kitty, come and look at these." Kitty, curious, obediently followed her younger sister's command, and went into Lizzy's room too. Lizzy followed, hoping that they'd at least refrain from going through her drawers and private things.
"That's a good one of you and George," Kitty commented, pointing to a picture of the two, snapped one night by Charlotte during a bonfire Lizzy and her friends had attended. It was a good picture, with Lizzy's hair slightly haloed by the fire, and George's beautiful dark eyes lit by its flames.
"Too bad he's got a new girlfriend," Lydia said, pushing her sister out of the way. "You guys weren't even broken up that long!" She turned around and faced her cousin, looking for some righteous indignation that she could join in complaining with. She met a mildly confused look instead.
"New girlfriend?" Lizzy asked.
"Didn't you know?" Kitty looked aghast.
"Apparently not. But I've been busy with exams, he probably didn't want to bother me with the news. And we did break up."
"Well," Lydia said, sitting down on Lizzy's bed and preparing with relish to tell her story, "I heard it all from Denny MacLeod, who used to work with him. George went off to his new job in Glasgow -- he's working as a guide for a tour company based over there -- and then he met this girl, Marie King. Her father owns the company, right? King's Scottish Tours, I think? So, they hit it off really well. She's a fourth year at the university there, and pretty ugly, to judge from the picture of George and her and a bunch of their friends that Denny showed me. I can show it to you, it's online," Lydia said, making a move towards Lizzy's computer.
"No, don't bother," Lizzy said, quickly. She accepted that George had the right to see other girls since they had broken up, and also to seek to better his unfortunate position, but she didn't really want the details rubbed in her face.
"Want to go get lunch?" Lizzy asked, to distract her cousins. "My treat, I've still got a fair bit of my Christmas money left."
"Yeah," Lydia said, getting up quickly. Kitty nodded, and the girls progressed out of the flat, the younger two now happily jabbering away about a mutual acquaintance. Lizzy was glad that they seemed to have forgotten George's "betrayal" of her.
The thought of George's new girlfriend continued to haunt Lizzy in a peripheral way for the next few days. She wasn't jealous, or anything like that (as much as she'd liked George and found him an excellent partner), but she was a little annoyed. Why hadn't he called to tell her about it? Or even sent an e-mail? After several days of self-questioning and over-thinking matters, Lizzy resolved to put the whole affair out of her mind, and to focus on her studies once more. Her studies were what mattered, after all... and her relationship with her studies would be long-lasting and invaluable... infinitely more valuable to her than any guy. She resolved to be a model young student, to throw her disappointment (for she was a little disappointed with George, though not with their own breakup) aside in favor of academic pursuits.
And what better way to do this than to attend the guest lecture in history she'd seen advertised around campus? ... And when else would she get the opportunity to ogle the famous Catherine de Bourgh whom Wilfred Collins had always gone on so much about? For it was indeed this illustrious personage who would be giving the lecture.
As it happened, Darcy found himself back in St. Andrews after his Hogmanay in Edinburgh with the Bingleys. He hadn't been planning on returning there; he had actually been planning on living up at Glen Leigheas during the long holidays, editing his thesis and overseeing some of the distillery business that required his presence. What he hadn't counted on when making his plans, however, was his aunt.
Why Aunt Catherine had decided to come and give a lecture in St Andrews at the very end of the exam period, he had absolutely no idea. Maybe it was that toadie of a former pupil of hers (what was his name? Cobbler? Collins?), who had been bothering Lizzy Bennet so much in the previous term? Or, more likely, it may have had something to do with Professor Freeman, who had once studied with his aunt. But the why didn't really matter -- since Aunt Catherine would be in St Andrews, he was requested to be there too -- if a command could be called a request. ... At least she was bringing his cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam up north with her, who would act as a convenient buffer should Lady Catherine become too nosy. And, if he had to be in St Andrews, there was a small chance that Lizzy might still be knocking around the town prior to her holidays. ... Maybe Aunt Catherine was actually -- though unintentionally -- doing him a favor?
Charlotte had decided to come along with Lizzy to the lecture. She was in St Andrews by chance, not having any exams as a research student but having been to a wedding in Edinburgh of an old friend from her undergraduate days. She'd stayed the night in the flat to save money, and had been intrigued by Lizzy's plans.
"I do want to see Catherine de Bourgh," Charlotte said, smiling, after Lizzy carelessly invited her to join in the fun. "Having heard so much about her."
"You can see your friend Collins again, too," Lizzy commented.
"Lizzy! He's not my friend at least not like that! What I meant before is that he's just a very awkward young man, and you should be more understanding of that. He'll probably be too busy fawning over his esteemed patroness to pay much attention to you, if you're worried about any awkwardness there."
"You're right," Lizzy admitted. She was the tiniest bit concerned about having been praised by Collins to the guest lecturer -- after all, what if the marvelous Catherine made some comment about Collins and Lizzy in public? But she was mainly quite curious to hear the famed Medici scholar in person, to determine whether Collins's adoration was warranted or not. She rather hoped it wasn't -- it would be rather funny if it wasn't.
By the time they arrived at the lecture hall, Lizzy was pleased that she'd prepared to see Collins again because he was standing by the door handing out elaborate outlines of the day's lecture. He greeted Lizzy with courtesy, in the manner of a friend and not that of an unwelcome suitor. She gave a grateful glance at Charlotte as he handed them his outlines, knowing that Charlotte had probably hinted the young Medici scholar back into appropriate post-rejected-proposal behavior with Lizzy.
"Elizabeth, how good of you to come," Collins told her solemnly. "I'm pleased to see that you can appreciate how valuable a lecture this is going to be -- why some of the other students in our department -- they laughed at me when I asked them to return from their holidays to come hear Lady Catherine speak! ... But all is well, as you see: there's a nice little crowd, don't you think? They wouldn't give us one of the really large lecture halls, but for one of this size -- and it is an appropriate size for out of term time, really -- the crowd is quite noteworthy." He gestured around. "You will note that we have no less than five professors visiting from other universities! And eight lecturers. And, including you and our dear friend Charlotte, and of course myself -- though I'm more of an assistant than an audience member -- we have twenty-four students. You will note that Lady Catherine's nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy whom I told you about, has come from his estate up north to come and join us today!"
Lizzy looked around, and noticed with some surprise that Darcy was, in fact in attendance. He met her glance and nodded, smiling ever-so-slightly. Lizzy nodded in return, without a smile.
"Do you know him, then?" Collins asked, in great excitement. "I met him just this afternoon for the first time!"
"We have the same advisor," Lizzy said, briefly. Charlotte was already past Collins, scouting out seats for the two of them. Lizzy tried to escape from the door, but Collins seemed inclined to talk.
"Do you see the lectern?" he asked, confidentially. "Doesn't it have exquisite proportions? It cost eight hundred pounds ... Lady Catherine brought it up with her especially, as it shows off her height to its best advantage... those modern, adjustable things can be so flimsy." Lizzy was happily and finally spared further digressions on the size of the room and the cost of the furniture, however, when a pair of scholars came up behind her, needing to enter. Lizzy politely got out of their way, and fled towards Charlotte and the empty seat beside her.
"I thought I'd never get away," Lizzy said, dropping into her seat with relief. "What on earth did you say to him? He's so far from being awkward about you know and now seems to actually think that we're friends!" Charlotte laughed, but broke off her mirth when a gaunt-looking woman came striding into the lecture hall, and stood purposefully by the lectern. Evidently this was Catherine de Bourgh, and she clearly believed that everyone should be focused on her. She cleared her throat, and immediately Professor Francis D. Freeman, Collins's advisor, came striding up to the lectern and introduced his guest.
"Did you know she'd done all that?" Charlotte whispered to Lizzy, after a moment. Lady Catherine's list of academic credentials was enviably long, and both girls were starting to look a little impressed, despite themselves. They watched as Lady Catherine took over the lectern one more, and began to vigorously launch herself into her lecture. Lizzy suddenly became quite glad for the outline, as Lady Catherine talked swiftly, frequently breaking into bouts of French and Italian. By the end of an hour or so, Lizzy felt rather bewildered, and glanced over at Charlotte.
"Did you understand much of that?" she whispered.
"Some?" Charlotte hazarded.
"So it wasn't just me?" asked Lizzy, relieved.
"No," said Charlotte. "She really did just talk for an hour, referencing every known source under the sun, in half a dozen languages, and had no point!"
"Do you think she won all of those awards and fellowships through sheer intimidation?" Lizzy whispered back.
"Very possibly. Or maybe her arguments have just become convoluted in her old age," Charlotte guessed. "Thank goodness we can now both leave -- after the question period of course, we don't want to be that rude. What a glory neither of us are studying anything in her field!"
"Chances are, we'll never have to listen to her again," Lizzy agreed.
At that moment, a clammy hand tapped her on the shoulder, and Lizzy turned around to notice Collins hunching in the aisle beside her.
"Yes?" she asked, trusting that his respect for the applause for Lady Catherine's talk would keep him from launching into another long speech.
"I am pleased to tell you that Lady Catherine wants to meet the both of you! She's expecting you to come and have a light meal with her after the others disperse."
"What?" asked Charlotte, stunned. "She wants to meet me? But I have nothing to do with her subject, and I'm not even the recipient of a fancy award, like Lizzy!"
"Lady Catherine is most generous," Collins replied. "I told her about the lecture we attended together, and she's interested in meeting you. And of course she's interested in Elizabeth's fellowship. Don't worry yourselves about your dress -- Lady Catherine acknowledges that she didn't give you adequate warning to wear something suitable. And she also likes to have some distinction of rank preserved." He nodded amiably at the two girls and slipped back across the aisle into his own seat as the applause died down and Lady Catherine began to answer questions about her convoluted argument.
"Well," Lizzy said, shrugging, "short of being really, really rude -- which I will admit is very tempting -- I think we've got to go..."