Beginning, Previous Section, Section IV
Part Seventeen
Posted on 2009-04-19
'But the years that followed turned out to be the happiest time of my life,' Mr Wagner continued in a more cheerful voice. 'Little did I know it, but Mr Darcy was all that his son was not - you must know that since his wife's death, he was alone for most of the year, his children being brought up by their aunts and uncles in Germany - and he and I, dare I say it, became friends over the years. I first saw him at the rectory, when he visited my grandfather, and I must have impressed him, for he sent for me after a while and it became a habit of mine to visit him and spend time with him in his library, where he would let me read books or else tell me things he had learned. My grandfather saw to it that I was well-fed, and well-clothed, and what he could not provide for me, Mr Darcy would. Thus, I began learning, for the first time in my life, soon mastering the English tongue - something that Darcy never fully achieved - and invading the spheres of mathematics and philosophy, theologies and even the basics of jurisprudence.
'It was my dearest wish then to be able to go to University; Mr Darcy had told me much about the wonders of Cambridge and I longed to see those halls of wisdom and learning with my own eyes, to be able, one day, to call myself a member of that chosen society.'
'That was beautifully said,' Elizabeth whispered, 'one so seldom finds someone truly interested in learning - those who can afford to pay for an education are so often only interested in pursuing idle sports and mindless games. And those who long for tuition with all their heart -'
'Indeed,' said Mr Wagner and gave Elizabeth a warm smile, 'you and I, Miss Bennet, seem to understand each other perfectly.'
'Were you able to go to Cambridge then, Mr Wagner?' Elizabeth asked.
'Sadly, no,' Mr Wagner said, 'Mr Darcy died shortly before I was to go there, about one or two months after my own grandfather died. Mr Darcy had had the foresight to make a provision in his will that my tuition should be paid for, but -'
'Herr Darcy ignored his father's explicit wishes?' Elizabeth said.
'Not as such,' Mr Wagner answered, 'the will was never signed, and was considered as but a draft by both his son and his attorney - but let us not dwell on this unpleasant matter. I was forced to go back to Germany, and seek a living there, but, well, fortune was not too kind with me. The influence of the von Wilhelms reaches far, and they did not like to see my situation advanced. Finally, I decided to come back here, to this country, where I had been happiest, and I was able to secure a post in the militia, where you find me now. Maybe, one day, I shall have enough money to at least allow my sons to obtain the degree I would have sought myself.'
Elizabeth saw the sadness in the man's eyes, and could not but be amazed how he had endured such horrible treatment, how he had a dream he still pursued, if not for himself, then for his children.
'You are certainly a man whom one does not find in a million,' she said with feeling. 'Please be aware that, should you ever be in need of a friend, I would be happy to call myself thus.'
Mr Wagner took her hand and kissed it, very softly, but in such a way, with such an expression in his eyes, that the place where his lips had touched her skin seemed to burn. Elizabeth felt heat crawling into her cheeks; her heart pounded in her suddenly hot chest and she knew she must be blushing profusely.
'I am honoured to know you already,' Mr Wagner said, then looked at her intently and hastily added, 'forgive me, Miss Bennet, I did not mean - it was not my intention to upset you - have I behaved too forward, too - please, forgive me -'
'Mr Wagner,' Elizabeth said solemnly, regaining her composure, 'I am sure no one, and I least of all, could ever accuse you of improper or untoward behaviour. It must be obvious to everyone that you embody everything that is good and honourable amongst men.'
'It sounds horribly fake to me,' said Mary later that evening. 'I cannot see why he would tell you that story.'
'Because it is true,' Elizabeth said. 'Do you not see that?'
'Elizabeth, I beg of you! He did not even give you a reason why Herr Darcy, whom we have known to be an honourable man, would treat him in the way he described to you!'
Elizabeth snorted. 'Herr Darcy - honourable? And only think, Mary: Does not the very fact that he could give no reason for the behaviour of Herr Darcy and his family prove the truth of his story? If he had made it up - and who could believe such a thing of Mr Wagner, for surely his very face tells of his honest character - would he not then have given some elaborate reason why Herr Darcy hated him?'
'He does not look very intelligent to me,' Mary said with a shrug. 'Maybe he could not think of one.'
'Now, Mary,' Jane said suddenly, looking up from her writing desk, where she had been busy composing a note to her fiancé. Elizabeth had not even known that Jane had paid any attention to the conversation. 'That is not a nice thing to say about Mr Wagner - after all, you barely know him. You should not say such things about him.'
'So you at least believe Mr Wagner!' Elizabeth was relieved.
'I do not know,' Jane said hesitantly. 'I cannot believe that Herr Darcy is as evil as you have said, but then, I could not fathom either why someone like Mr Wagner should invent such a horrible history.'
'Is it not obvious?' Mary said.
'Would I not know it had he lied to me?' Elizabeth cried. 'I could see, I could feel, that he spoke nothing but the truth! Why, indeed, should he invent such a history?'
'Munchhausen,' Mary muttered cryptically and got up. 'Good Night, both of you. Do not brood over that letter for too long, Jane, I dare say Charles would not mind if you sent him a household inventory.'
'Mary, wait -' Elizabeth called after her. ' - he did not lie to me!'
The door had already closed behind Mary and Elizabeth turned to Jane.
'You do believe he was telling the truth, do you not?' she asked.
'I cannot see why he would lie to you - after all, it is a horrible thing to disguise the truth and I am sure no one of my acquaintance would ever do such a ghastly thing - what do you think, need I sign my full name or will he know it is me if I sign 'Jane'?'
' … therefore consider myself fortunate indeed to be able to boast -' Mr Collins muttered, pacing up and down the breakfast room, occasionally mopping his sweating brow with one of his large, colourful handkerchiefs. 'No, no, no … consider myself fortunate and honoured indeed, to be able to -'
He wheezed, took a large gulp of tea that had by now become cold and forced two bites of toast down his throat. Just like the tea, the toast had been more edible three quarters of an hour ago, when, unable to sleep, Mr Collins had woken Cook and begged to be allowed to break his fast so shortly after dawn in order to calm his fluttering nerves. This day, of all days, Mr Collins had chosen to be the one which would make him the happiest of men, and once he had come to this decision after retiring to his chamber the evening before, sleep had eluded him. The night was spent in crafting a soliloquy that was both powerful and tender and would convey his feelings of regard and sincere passion to the lady in question.
Anxiety, however, soon overcame Mr Collins, and words that had sounded meaningful and well-chosen at midnight were found to be nothing but stale and awkward in the light of the morning. While trying to learn his speech by heart, Mr Collins found that the gift of memorising even the most complicated phrasings without batting an eyelid had been lost to him as well as his delicate way with words, now that he was in the throes of love.
Mopping his brow once more, he perused his sheet of paper with an earnest glance before setting it aside again.
'Forgive me, dear lady, for trespassing upon your privacy - no, intimacy - in such a forceful and seemingly untoward way, but you must make allowance for the passionate regard which your ethereal beauty and serene clemency has evoked in your humble servant, me. There can be little doubt after this avowal of mine of what proposals are now to follow, but please do have the grace to let me explain in full, and a more rational manner, why I have sought you out in this manner on this glorious day, which is, I am sure, to make us both the happiest and most joyful two beings united in this wonderful -'
He was interrupted by a throat being cleared behind him.
'Master is now up,' Mrs Hill informed him. 'He is in the library, if you still wish to speak to him.'
Curtsying, she left the room again and Mr Collins was alone with his proposal once more.
'Have courage, my beating heart,' he muttered and clutched his chest. 'This is the hour for bravery, indeed!'
Taking one last sip of the cold tea, he girded his loins with courage and went to meet his host.
Part Eighteen
Posted on 2009-04-26
'What rhymes with Jane?' Mr Bingley asked.
'Plain, strain, vain, disdain,' Herr Darcy muttered without looking up from his newspaper. 'Rain, pain.'
'They are not very cheerful though, are they?' Mr Bingley contemplated. 'I do not think that would set the right mood for my poem -'
'For heaven's sake, Charles!' Miss Bingley snapped. 'You saw her last evening. You shall see her again today as soon as you have exchanged that jacket for one that does not have ink blots on it. Get a grip on yourself!'
'I vould do vhat your sister says,' Oberst von Wilhelm said from behind his newspaper. 'She is a forceful lady.'
'Am I supposed to eat this?' Mr Hurst asked his wife, pointing at the bowl that had been placed in front of him. 'What is that, grey - something?'
'I am not forceful, Oberst,' Miss Bingley said. 'I only think that planning a party in three days is a bit more difficult than scribbling,
'Wait, wait, wait - not so fast!' Mr Bingley said.
'Call me Wilhelm,' the Oberst said to Miss Bingley. 'I do not like ze vay you pronounce Oberst.'
'It is porridge, dear,' Mrs Hurst explained. 'It is better for your stomach.'
The door burst open and Frau von Wilhelm stepped in, as usual followed by her niece and nephew and an assortment of dogs. She sat down with a sigh and poured herself a cup of coffee which she topped generously with cream.
'Methinks I shall fain have a portion of everything,' she said, waving her plate at her nephew. 'Dost thou see sausages? Them I prefer. A slice of fat-rimmed bacon, too, if thou canst get -'
'Aunt, can I not -' Fraeulein von Wilhelm began, but her aunt interrupted her at once.
'Thou canst eat toast and milk, as shall Friedrich. Thy constitution is not strong enough for meat.'
'I do not like porridge,' Mr Hurst said and stirred in his bowl. 'It tastes of nothing.'
'Porridge!' Fraeulein von Wilhelm exclaimed, 'an excellent choice, methinks. Heidi and Friedrich shall partake of it as well. Now, anon, let me break my fast! My plate, swain!'
'I could not call you Vil-elm,' Miss Bingley said. 'I could not call you by your first name.'
'Vhat, not even if I called you Caroline? My dear miss, you moost not constrain yourself in unnecessary strictoores -'
'You cannot just - I never gave you - alright, call me Caroline, if you will, but do not expect me to answer to it.'
'The blue velvet one, I think,' Mr Bingley suddenly said to no one in particular. 'Or do you think the mustard coloured one more suited?'
'What on earth are you talking about, Charles?' Miss Bingley snapped at him.
'The jacket - you said I should change my jacket before I went to see Jane and I -'
'Oh, the green one will do,' Miss Bingley said dismissively. 'As if Jane would notice anyway.'
'What should I wear, Lizzy?' Jane asked her sister as soon as she had closed the door behind herself. 'The pink one? The blue one?'
She was holding up several frocks for her sister's inspection.
'I do not think the cream-coloured one suits me at all. Does it make me look pale? I do not want to look pale -'
'Is there any special occasion?' Elizabeth asked, putting down the comb which she had been trying to drag through her curls with her left hand.
'Charles promised to call first thing this morning,' Jane said, beaming. 'We are to take a long walk together, to Oakham Mount. I believe some of his guests will join him too - why do you not come along? Herr Darcy might be among them and you could ask him about Mr Wagner's accusations and clear up the whole misunderstanding in a trifle, do you not think so?'
'Misunderstanding?' Elizabeth shrieked. 'There can be no talk of a misunderstanding. That man - that man - who had the audacity to suggest that I - that man ruined poor Mr Wagner's whole life, out of spite!'
'Now, now, Lizzy,' Jane said, 'let us not assume anything of Herr Darcy when we do not know the truth. Charles trusts him after all, and Charles is a very good judge of character. I do not think that Charles would allow Herr Darcy to behave so ungraciously as Mr Wagner said - I am quite sure that there must be some horrible misunderstanding. Now, do you think the yellow one makes me look fast?'
'Oh, wear the green one then,' Elizabeth said distractedly. 'Will you help me with my hair? This hand is no good. I fear I will have to see the apothecary again if it does not -'
'Will you accompany us then on our excursion?' Jane asked. 'Oh, Lizzy, please say you will! I am sure it would cheer you up immensely, and I would be so happy to have you there. I want you and Charles to become the best of friends.'
'Very well,' Elizabeth sighed. 'I do not suppose I would miss anything exciting should I stay here, anyway.'
'Mr Bennet,' Mr Collins wheezed, mopping his forehead. 'I am come to you on this joyous morning - that is, I hope it will be a happy morning - that is, I think you have the power to make this a happy morning - that is, I would never be so bold as to tell you to make my morning a joyful one, but - oh, could I please have a glass of sherry?'
'Sherry!' Mr Bennet exclaimed. He had an inkling of what Mr Collins was about to ask of him, but he would not cut short that gentleman's soliloquies for a fortune. How else would he be able to relay to Lady Lucas in great detail how Mr Collins had practically begged him on his knees for his daughter's hand in matrimony?
'Yes, I think Sherry is an excellent idea,' Mr Bennet said and got out a bottle of sherry and two glasses from the one cupboard his wife had left him in the library. 'Do help yourself, Mr Collins. I have a feeling that this is a morning that calls for a celebration, and Longbourn can offer no finer brew than this.'
'Indeed, indeed,' Mr Collins said, smacking his lips after his first sip, 'although I must say that the other night, Lady von Burg served a sherry that was even - only the tiniest bit, mind you. But then, you must allow for Lady von Burg's tastes to be very refined, very refined indeed. Nothing is too costly, too expensive for her - why, the candles for her bedroom alone - any young lady could not do much better than to obtain the patronage of Lady von Burg, dear sir.'
'It is a connection any family could be proud of,' Mr Bennet agreed, pouring himself a generous amount of sherry. 'A father could do worse than to see one of his daughters so happily connected.'
'Indeed, sir, indeed,' Mr Collins said. 'Very well put, sir, very well indeed. Your way with words reminds me of Lady von Burg. She is most fortunate in that she has been given the gift of talking in talks - I mean, she has been given the gift of talking with ease -'
'As do you, Mr Collins, as do you,' Mr Bennet said generously. 'Another sherry, my boy, to calm you?'
'Most kind, sir, most kind,' Mr Collins said, struggling to pronounce clearly. 'I am most obliged to you. Indeed, sir, indeed -'
He took another swig of sherry before launching into his prepared speech again.
' - you have been a most kind, most attentive host and I am sure no man could wish for a more generous host, unless, of course, he may have the utmost honour to be invited by her ladyship herself, to stay at Rosings Park - but such is an honour few mortals can hope for, and most certainly not an humble clergyman like myself. Be that as it may, however, dear sir, and let me once more assure you that your hospitality is indeed most acutely felt and that it is with great trepidation - and yet, with hope for success - that I now most devotedly ask of you -'
Part Nineteen
Posted on 2009-06-11
'We should never have allowed them both to wear green,' Miss Bingley hissed to Elizabeth after they had set out. 'I do not like the way the two colours clash at all.'
Mr Bingley had, as Jane had predicted, brought his sister with him. He had not, however, brought his friend, for which Elizabeth was grateful. Instead, Oberst von Wilhelm had accompanied the siblings and Elizabeth infinitely preferred his company to that of his disagreeable cousin.
'Miss Bennet,' Miss Bingley now said anew, 'do you think it is our duty to watch those two love-birds very closely? I must admit I would not feel very comfortable telling my brother what to do or not to do with his fiancée.'
'Do you not zink, my dear,' said the Oberst, who had Elizabeth on his left arm and Miss Bingley on his right, 'zat our presence alone - zat ze fact zat ve follow zem closely - vill suffice to deter zem from any untovard action? Zey look very vell-behaved to me.'
'Very well,' Miss Bingley said, still looking sceptical, 'if you think so -'
'Do tell me, Oberst,' Elizabeth said, not wishing to further this discussion, 'did you come to England but recently?'
'Oh, no,' the Oberst answered at once. 'I haff been here zese five years. I vork for ze Prussian ambassador.'
'Indeed?' Miss Bingley asked with one raised eyebrow.
'Yes,' the Oberst said, his bosom swelling with pride. 'Zat is vhy I speak so good English.'
Miss Bingley snorted loudly, but hastily pretended to be coughing.
'Ah, yes,' Elizabeth said. 'I had thought it must be something like that. So are you on leave then?'
'Vhen ze ambassador heard zat my family had come, he gave me leave,' the Oberst said. 'He knows my fazzer from Berlin.'
'Does he, now,' Miss Bingley muttered.
'And zen ve set out for Nezzerfield at wonce. Ve knew Darcy to be here, you know. My aunt had somezing important to discuss viz him immediately.'
'Did she?' Miss Bingley said. 'I never noticed.'
'Yes, it vas a matter of great oorgency,' the Oberst said. 'She had had a letter from her sister telling her zat - oh, but I vas not supposed to tell any won. Not even Heidi and Fritz know. You must forgive me for teasing you like zis. I cannot tell you, upon my honour.'
Miss Bingley coughed loudly.
'Is anyzing wrong viz you, dear Caroline?' the Oberst asked.
'Monsieur le colonel, vous êtes insupportable,' Miss Bingley hissed. 'Est-ce que vous êtes né comme ça?'
'Douce Caroline,' the Oberst murmured. 'Je pourrais vous épouser, ma chère, si -' *
Miss Bingley gave a strange sort of scream.
'I'm sorry, I did not -' Elizabeth said, not having understood a word of their discussion.
'I fear the Oberst is not at all well,' Miss Bingley said through clenched teeth. 'I deem it best that we all return to Netherfield, it is but around this bend. The Oberst needs to lie down.'
*'Colonel, you are insupportable,' Miss Bingley hissed. 'Were you born like that?'
'Sweet Caroline,' the Oberst muttered. 'I could marry you, my dear, if -'
They found Fraeulein von Wilhelm on the front lawn, surrounded by her dogs.
''tis the English climate,' she sighed, 'they do not listen properly. The fog doth clog their ears, methinks.'
She barked a row of commands at the dogs, who looked at her expectantly, but did not react in any other way.
'They ate too much,' Fraeulein von Wilhelm decided. 'Didst thou increase their rations?'
The younger Fraeulein von Wilhelm, who had been standing behind her aunt, meekly shook her head.
'Fritz again!' Fraeulein von Wilhelm said. 'He has too generous a heart for hounds, I say -'
'My dear ma'am,' Miss Bingley interrupted her, 'I think I should like a word with Herr Darcy. Do you happen to know where he is?'
'He not is here,' the younger Fraeulein von Wilhelm volunteered. 'He not wanted to stay here.'
'Rode out?' Fraeulein von Wilhelm asked. 'Alack, that swain! He doth not think. Methinks I need a stricter hand with him.'
'Well, never mind that,' Miss Bingley said, distracted. 'Miss Bennet, would you like a cup of tea? Oh, no - we have lost Charles and Jane again.'
'I suppose zat zey haff lost us, if you ask me,' the Oberst said. 'I saw zem disappear in zat shrubbery. If you like, I can fetch zem for you -'
'Please, colonel, do not be silly,' Miss Bingley said. 'I dare say they can look after themselves. I shall have tea now.'
Herr Darcy was indeed not at Netherfield. In the very moment that Miss Bingley asked her visitors to step inside and not mind the dogs' blankets in the hallway, if they pleased, Herr Darcy was dismounting his horse in front of Longbourn. He was greeted on the front steps by Mrs Hill and, upon having declared his intention to visit the master of the house, led to the library. Even through the closed door of said apartment, he could hear his aunt being toasted very loudly. He was surprised at the high spirits in which his host seemed to be until Mrs Hill opened the door and the stench of sweet sherry and cheap cigars filled his nose. Espying the addition to their noble round, Mr Collins attempted to jump to his feet at once and succeeded at the second try. Herr Darcy was much astonished upon being generously showered with warm effusions of most humble obedience as well as wafts of sherry. Being a gentleman, however, he met both with equanimity and proceeded to greet Mr Bennet, who excused himself for not having risen from his seat due to a bad back. The offer of sherry Herr Darcy rejected politely. He did not bother to sit down on the chair offered to him and instead started his prepared speech at once.
'I am come today, Mr Bennet, on a most delicate subject. Zat I have harboured a kind of regard for your daughter cannot have escaped you. I have tried to conceal my feelings, but struggled in vain.'
Mr Bennet was almost overcome with emotions at this second proposal of marriage in as many hours, but managed to tick his third daughter's name on the list in front of him.
'I fear, alas, zat zere may have been a small misunderstanding. I tried to convey ze sincerity of my feelings to your daughter, but vas disturbed and zerefore could not assure her of ze earnestness of my affections. I vish to rectify zis and now inform you zat it is my urgent intention to pay court to your daughter until I have obtained ze grace of her hand. Forgive me, sir.'
'Sherry?' Mr Bennet asked.
Mr Collins, meanwhile, had fainted in his chair from the excitement. The thought of soon being able to call his patroness' most beloved nephew brother had been too much. Soon, however, he was revived with a glass of sherry. Herr Darcy begged his host's leave to go in search of his daughter.
'Naturally, naturally,' Mr Bennet said, wondering whether he should already send a messenger to Sir William, or wait until the official announcement to inform his friend of the day's coup. 'I suspect she is in the kitchen at the moment. We find her there quite often. She is very interested in household matters, you must know - not that I need to rely on my daughters for cooking, unlike Sir William. You must not think us so shabby as that. Sherry, Mr Collins?'
Herr Darcy left the room. Meeting a maid in the corridor, he asked for directions to the kitchen and was shown along a narrow passageway. If the maid thought his request peculiar, she did not let on, and continued to scrub picture frames with perfect disinterest.
Unlike the dark passage leading to it, the kitchen was bright and airy. A fire crackled in the grate, soup was cooking on the stove and a tray of buns was baking in the oven. Herr Darcy was overcome by the desire for a glass of milk and a fresh bun for a moment. Then he realised that Miss Mary Bennet was sitting at the white, scrubbed table, a large volume in front of her, partaking of his dream meal. She took no notice of him, unlike the cook, a round-faced, smiling lady of large proportions.
'Bun, sir?' she asked.
As soon as Herr Darcy had meekly nodded, a plate with an enormous bun had been set in front of him, followed by a glass of milk, and one of the wooden chairs had been shoved under him, forcing him to sit down opposite Miss Mary.
'Miss Mary,' Herr Darcy began, 'I vas told zat I might find your sister Elisabeth here. I have been looking for her.'
'Yes, I have been wanting to talk to you about that,' Mary said, not looking up from her book.
'I am sorry?' Herr Darcy said.
'My sister,' Mary explained in German, 'has taken a violent and irrational dislike towards you - I beg your pardon for mentioning this. I am not sure of the details, but it seems that she thinks you to have behaved very ungraceful and not at all gentlemanlike towards her. I would not have mentioned it at all, were it not for the fact that she is supported in her antipathy by a creature known to us as Richard Wagner, a most disagreeable person, if you ask me.'
'Is she not a clever girl, our Miss Mary, sir,' Cook said and patted Mary's head. 'Jabbering away in I do not know how many foreign languages. If she were a boy, our Miss Mary would go to Oxford, is what I said just the other day.'
Part Twenty
Posted on 2009-08-02
Mary noticed that Herr Darcy had gone white at the mention of Mr Wagner's name and seemed to be choking on his bun.
'Wagner?' he stammered. 'Hier?'
'But just you wait, Miss Mary,' Cook continued, 'you will find a clever man one day, is what I said just the other day. There must be one of these learned men writing books all day that will fall in love with you and you will see, Miss Mary, you will be richer than any of your sisters.'
'Yes, thank you, Mary,' Mary muttered and patted Cook's hand on her shoulder. 'I suppose I shall.'
'Vhat is he doing here?' Herr Darcy croaked.
'I do not know what your previous history with this person is,' Mary said, once more in German, 'nor why he came here. Maybe he is just of a very romantic disposition and has been reading too many of Mrs Radcliffe's novels, but the tales he has been spinning about you were most perfectly gothic. Whether he intends to harm you or not, he is abusing your name and your family in a most dishonourable manner and probably causing your reputation much harm. I cannot but feel that you should be aware of this.'
'And Miss Elisabeth?' Herr Darcy asked.
'My sister, most unfortunately, seems to believe him,' Mary said. 'It gives me pain to admit it, but unless I am mistaken, she has taken his side and thinks you the basest of scoundrels. I do not know whether you care about my sister's feelings, but you should seek to rectify this situation and restore her good opinion of you before the slander has spread. You may not be aware of it, but in spite of all your wealth and influence, I may be the only friend you have in Meryton. Forgive me.'
Herr Darcy buried his head in his hands and groaned loudly.
'I am sorry to give you pain like this,' Mary continued, 'and I hope you will not be too angry with my sister. Let me assure you that she is normally not so silly as this.'
'I cannot blame Miss Elisabeth,' Herr Darcy said, looking up again, 'persons much older than her have made the very same mistake. Yet, I cannot conceal from you that this situation is not a pleasant one at all -'
'Maybe I should not have spoken,' Mary said. 'I beg your pardon. It is not at all the thing to do, but I thought that had I been in your place, I would have wanted to know.'
'Yes, I would have wanted to know,' Herr Darcy admitted, running his hands through his hair. 'Especially considering that it is Miss Elisabeth involved in -'
'Pray, sir, do not think badly of my sister,' Mary said. 'Oh, had I but been silent!'
'Miss Bennet, do not insult your own intelligence,' Herr Darcy said. 'You do realise that I could never think badly of your sister.'
'Herr Darcy!' Mary exclaimed, unwittingly changing back to English. 'I had no idea that the situation was thus!'
Herr Darcy smiled forcedly.
'I did not know eizer,' he admitted, 'only now zat I understand I may have lost her good opinion forever do I understand vhat I have been feeling all zis time.'
Mary gasped in surprise. It was a moment before she could say anything, but then she chuckled softly.
'Dear me, Herr Darcy, this is quite a mess we have landed you in,' she said, 'it will not be easy, getting you out of it.'
'I fear it is too late for zat,' Herr Darcy said. 'It is best I leave Hertfordshire and retire to Pemberley. Zis too vill pass eventually.'
'Now, now, Herr Darcy,' Mary said sternly. 'There may come a time for that sort of behaviour, but this is not it. Now is the time to act, and swiftly, before it is indeed to late.'
'Too right, duckie,' Cook muttered while stirring her soup.
'Vhat do you suggest I do zen?' Herr Darcy asked.
'I have no idea,' Mary said, 'but you know, Herr Darcy - what has been done, will be done again - what has been, will be again - es gibt nichts Neues unter der Sonne.'*
'Is zat supposed to cheer me up?' Herr Darcy asked. 'I do not find ze idea of eternal torment too tempting, frankly.'
'But it means that someone, somewhere, has had the same problems as you,' Mary said brightly. 'Now we must only find in which book he noted it down, and we shall know what to do.'
'I suppose we should start in the library,' Mary mused, 'unless -'
'I should not have told you,' Herr Darcy interrupted her, speaking German once more. 'I did not mean to.'
'Herr Darcy, please,' Mary said. 'You cannot think that I would seek to embarrass you. Be assured that I will keep your confidence secret.'
'A gentleman's affections for a lady should remain private between the two of them,' Herr Darcy said. 'It is a matter that concerns no one else, and rightly so.'
'Herr Darcy!' Mary said. 'You cannot think that I would bandy either your name or my sister's about. Believe me, I shall not tell a soul of it, and will not interfere if you do not wish me to.'
'Forgive me, Miss Mary - it is not that - I did not mean to imply that -' Herr Darcy struggled for a coherent sentence. 'Forgive me. I meant no slight to you. It is simply that I am not accustomed to talking about matters such as these. That I have laid myself before you thus makes me feel stripped. Naked. It embarrasses me.'
'There is nothing embarrassing about an honest regard,' Mary said, 'if one conducts one's affairs like a gentleman -'
'It makes me weak,' Herr Darcy said. 'Vulnerable. Such is not a vulnerability one makes light of or shrugs off. Now you have knowledge over me that gives you power - not that I think you would use it - but I hate not being in control of things.'
He gave a weak smile.
'There, now I have given you even more knowledge about myself. I know not what it is that makes me tell you these things that, frankly, madam, you have no right to know.'
'Herr Darcy!' Mary gasped.
'I am sorry,' Herr Darcy said. 'I seem to give offence wherever I go. It was not meant this way, I assure you. You have declared yourself my friend and I should feel honoured to be able to call you friend and treat you as one.'
'Herr Darcy -' Mary began.
'Please, Miss Mary,' Herr Darcy said. 'I am really, truly sorry. I had no right to say this. Please accept my apologies. They are most sincere.'
Mary nodded.
'Very well,' she said. 'But may I suggest you better curb your derisive tones - this is not going to help you at all with my sister - I am sorry. I did not mean to meddle.'
'Since we cannot keep you from trying to meddle,' Herr Darcy said with a smile, 'may I ask what you suggest I do next?'
'Are you serious then?' Mary asked. 'Are you trying to convince my sister of your qualities?'
'I suppose I am,' Herr Darcy answered. 'Although I still do not quite understand why I am agreeing to all of this.'
Mary remained silent for a moment and seemed lost in thought.
'Music,' she suddenly said. 'Elizabeth loves music.'
'I know,' Herr Darcy said. 'She always looks happiest at the piano.'
'Can you sing?' Mary asked.
'Well, I suppose -'
'That is settled then. You and I will perform a song at Mr Bingley's party tomorrow. I hope you do not mind if I accompany you on the piano? It does not give me much pleasure, but I shall do it for you.'
'That is very kind of you -' Herr Darcy began.
'Now, come on,' Mary said. 'We do not have much time to train you.'
'Tell me, Herr Darcy,' Mary said, 'is there any song that you feel you can sing particularly well?'
'I do not know -' Herr Darcy began.
'Is there any song that you feel attached to?' Mary insisted.
'My grandfather always sang the same song to us,' Herr Darcy said. 'The one about Anke - you must know it. It is very well known. Everybody knows it.'
He started humming a simple tune. Mary shook her head.
'I do not think I have heard it,' she said.
'You must have,' Herr Darcy said. 'Everybody knows it. You will remember it when I sing it.'
With a surprisingly full voice, he started singing a folk song in a German dialect that Mary did not recognise, nor could make sense of. The tune was not complicated, but the song obviously meant something to Herr Darcy. Although Mary could only guess at the words' meaning, she was moved by the honest sentiment on the singer's face. For the first time, she truly appreciated that however many ties he might have to England, he was still a stranger here. His home was across the sea, in a region now troubled by war, and he could not know when he would see it again. The language that was spoken there was not English; it was not even the German that she or other learned Englishmen could speak with him. The tongue closest to his heart was this rural dialect that was restricted to one pocket of speakers hundreds of miles away. She had always treated languages as cases of study, as fascinating objects that would further her learning and understanding of the world. With a pain that she could not explain, she now understood that what to her was only scientific observation was a heart-rendering reminiscence of a lost home to others. Tears streamed out of her eyes for the first time in years as she watched the intense longing on Herr Darcy's face.
To Be Continued . . .