by Ney Mitch
“Nothing can prepare you for the real scene,” Colonel Fitzwilliam finished her sentence. “Nothing can prepare you for the horror.”
“Precisely. How do you bear it?”
“In truth?”
“Yes?”
“I drink the night before.”
Jane and I laughed at this.
“Yet, it shall always be wondrous,” I interjected, “for often, be it in literature or art, battle is often depicted as a glorious thing. A noble thing. But, when amidst the moment, it probably feels like living a simple and obscure life is infinitely more preferable than the pain and loneliness of being wounded on the battlefield.”
“Lizzy, that is too horrible a picture that you painted,” Jane chided me.
“Oh, but she is correct,” Colonel Fitzwilliam supported me. “For there is nothing glorious about dying or seeing the men die around you. It is painful. It is lonely. And, despite the ever-demanding belief that you should die with grace and elegance, you cannot. You are scared. As much as it makes you look the coward, you wish to weep. You wish that you had run away, to a distant land where men never had to face such horror and sadness. And only if you can be delivered to that place, all would be well. You could remain there, gladdened at the peace around you. Next, you can find a place to live, and perhaps you find a glorious woman who can survive the harsh life of you being a man of profession, and you both can live. You can easily just live. Then you recall that it is a dream, and nothing more. So, you wake up and feel the coldness of reality around you return. And the dream slips further and further away, into the oblivion that it had sprung from. Such a tease of a thing. Such a heartwarming and heartbreaking thing it is, all at the same time.”
While he had spoken, the Colonel’s voice had become mellow, and somehow had a magical effect on us all. We all watched him and did not even know we had breathed the entire time. His narration was mesmerizing—hypnotic.
“Real or false,” Jane summed up, gently, “it is still a good dream.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, it is.”
After dinner, Jane and I had separated from the men so that they could go into the billiards room. Once we were alone, Jane sighed and sat down by the fire.
“I shall never understand the practice of men and women separating after dinner,” she said.
“You never mentioned that to me before,” I pointed out.
“I suppose I never thought it was my place to question it. Yet now, I am thinking on it. And I wonder why it is such a necessity of dining? Why must men and women separate from each other afterwards? For, it is not as if we women will not see each other later on in the week and could discuss other more sensitive topics to each other then.”
“Ah, you now have noticed the senselessness of something that I have thought of for so long now.”
She gave me a look of surprise. “You never liked the separation either?”
“I always thought it was a stupid thing.”
“True, it just might be pointless.”
“But, I wonder,” I began to consider more into the heart of the matter, “why did you not notice the frivolity of this practice until now?”
“What do you mean?” Jane asked me.
I sat down beside her on the sofa.
“Well, you have never spoken about this being a nuisance before. So, I am wondering what has happened this evening that has made you desirous to not leave the men’s side?”
Jane blushed and looked down at her hands.
“Do not be afraid,” I encouraged her.
She shook her head and gave me a weak smile. “I am not afraid, I assure you. I simply know what you allude to.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. You are, perhaps, wondering about me enjoying the company of a certain soldier who comes to dine with us.”
“Yes, I possibly am. I am not making any assumptions, for I am aware just how often us women’s minds can leap so quickly from mere friendship to romance.”
“Precisely.” Jane looked back at the fire and said nothing. Yet, I knew to wait. She was the sort of person who sometimes needed a few minutes of silence before she spoke about something that might affect her deeply. “Well, with the Colonel, I admit that I enjoy his company.”
“If you enjoy it in a disinterested manner, where it is purely innocent, then that is suitable. If you enjoy him in a way that may shift into romantic inclinations, then that is suitable as well.”
“I am not even aware that he likes me in any particular way. Perhaps, he just enjoys my company.”
“Yes, perhaps it may be so. Colonel Fitzwilliam has always enjoyed the company of lovely women. It is his way. Either way, I cannot know for certain what he feels,” I lied. “For I, nor anyone for that matter, have the ability to read other people’s minds.”
Jane pondered this. “Then his attentions could merely be friendly. I do not wish to pursue any romantic inclinations for a man when I do not know if he cares for me in the same sort of style.”
“Oh, it matters not what he feels. If you are feeling a soft sort of affection for him, then feel it. Even if he does not and it comes to nothing, you can enjoy this as another experience in life. I am beginning to find, slowly, that not all romances have to lead to marriage. Sometimes, we can feel something just for the sake of knowing that our hearts are still working.”
“That is a very nice sort of theory.” Jane looked at me more intently. “Yes, I do believe that I like that philosophy. The idea of feeling something romantic for the sake of the feeling and not for the end result of it. After all, look what happened when I did begin to consider matrimonial plans for Mr. Bingley. He left Hertfordshire and never came back again to visit. Perhaps, living for the moment, rather than the day after it, is a healthier thing to do.”
I bit my lip. I did not wish to tell her that Mr. Bingley would be at the ball that we were soon to attend. I had wished for it to be a surprise.
Yet, perhaps now, I had no choice in the matter.
“Jane, while I do like that philosophy, I know, for certain, that we shall see Mr. Bingley soon.”
Her look of surprise was almost amusing. “You do?”
“We are staying at the home of his bosom friend, Mr. Darcy. It is only a matter of time before he returns to town and we encounter him. Therefore, you shall see him again. I know it.”
“If I do, then I had best not show any regard for the Colonel at all! For, by doing so, it looks as if I would be flirting with a man when in the presence of a man who I once considered marrying.”
“Can you, though?” I asked her. “Do you believe that you have it in you to become cold towards the Colonel?”
Jane looked ahead and her lip began to tremble.
“I hate the idea of it,” she confessed. “I do not think I could bear the idea of being cold towards him. I like his company and would not wish for him to feel forsaken by me. And yet, it would also be imprudent of me to encourage him, if his feelings toward me prove to be anything else but friendly.” She put her face in her hands. “Oh, Lizzy! What does one do when both actions are the wrong course of action to take?”
“You have no choice but to just feel as you feel and be done with it.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means that you can still be friendly with the Colonel, for you do not know his feelings toward you yet. He has made no serious offers to you. Therefore, you are still free. And with Mr. Bingley, you have not seen him yet. To you, he is still just a memory. Therefore, when you see him again, only then can you determine how you feel.”
“I still feel deeply for him.”
“Then let everything unfold as it will. Be friendly with the Colonel and be happy to see Bingley. Do not close yourself off to anything just yet, because you are not certain on anything. Time will help you choose what course it is that you must take. But cherish this time. Do not worry about your confusion. Simply look ahead and be amused at how life is turning out for us. Live for the mome
nt and not for what may or may not happen tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is not a very sure thing for any of us. And do not feel guilty for anything. That is a very stupid thing to do.”
“Very well,” Jane agreed, “yes. I shall just see how things fall into place. And I will just enjoy myself until then, not acting rashly in any direction. Good! For I did not want to spend the rest of the evening ignoring the Colonel. I detested the idea of it.”
Soon we were joined by the men.
In the heat of the moment, I felt that I was not ready to tell Jane of the Colonel’s true feelings. After all, his emotions could accidentally dictate her own. And one must not do that.
* * *
* * *
Upon immediately entering, Colonel Fitzwilliam approached Jane directly.
“I feel very selfish,” he said, “but Darcy has a silhouette kit and I have always wished to see if I can draw a woman’s silhouette. Would you mind if I used you as a model, Miss Bennet?”
“Oh, I have never sat to have my silhouette done before,” Jane remarked. “It would be a very interesting experience. I hope that I can sit still for long enough.”
“I am certain that you can. Darcy, do you mind?”
“Not at all, Richard,” Darcy allowed, “you know where the kit is.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam arranged for a servant to retrieve the kit for him while he chose the best place for Jane to sit.
Darcy and I gave them a look and we sat down on the other side of the room, nearer to the windows.
“Do you like your time as my guest so far?” he asked.
“Yes,” I responded, animated. “Do you not see the happiness on my sister’s face and mine as well?”
“I just wished to confirm it.”
“We like it. Yet, it is like a dream and that is a hard thing.”
He gave me a quizzical look. “How so?”
“Well, dreams are like everything else. You wake up, and real life is waiting for you. You come down, and when you do, you come down in a hard sort of manner. You wake up, return home and the dream is like a natural sort of illumination. You believe in that light, you wish to see it again, and when you do, you keep chasing after it, and sometimes you get so close to it that you feel as if you shall grasp it one day.”
“Why do you believe that you will never grasp it again?”
“Because dreams are not meant to last. And perhaps it is better that way. For, if life were a quick succession of dreams coming true, then I suppose you would never know what dreams were any longer, for they had quite replaced the reality.”
So lost was I in my own world, that I did not pay attention to Mr. Darcy. At last, when I did look on him again, he seemed fidgety. I wondered if he had even heard what I had said.
“Have I made you uncomfortable?” I asked. “Or did you not hear me?”
“I did,” he responded very quickly. “It is just…your words were so prettily said that I did not know how to respond. I felt quite inferior to you then. I marveled at it because I have felt it often. It almost seems not fair, does it not?”
“What?”
“That we spend our lives chasing down happy moments.”
“If we spend our lives chasing down the happy moments, enraged when we do not find them, then it makes you wonder… were we ever living to begin with.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean that if we are always chasing after things and never able to be fully able to consistently just enjoy our lives, then were we ever in the present? To always be chasing down a future is—is it really us being alive?”
“A very good question. And I refuse to answer it.”
“What!”
“Well, I just realized that I want you to enjoy my company. If I reveal all my very best conversations soon into your coming, then we shall have nothing left to talk about by the middle of your visit. I do not want you to get bored with me.”
“Ah, you are worried that we shall run out of things to say.”
“I know that I shall. That is often the way with me.”
His sensitivity warmed me. “That is the way with everyone. Eventually, everyone runs out of things to say to each other. The trick is to accept that when it arrives. People run out of words to say to each other, and that’s when you have arrived at that point where you are allowed to be silent in their company. That is when the silence becomes comfortable. When we first met, the silence between us was hard because it was so very dense and awkward. We had not arrived at the spot where the silence was comfortable yet.”
“That was my fault. I know.”
“No need to reflect on whose fault it was. But you are quite right. Let us save our more compelling topics for tomorrow and find ways of filling up the space in between. When is your sister to join us again?”
“In two days. The day after Miss Kitty’s arrival. And I should ask, how did your sister take the news of coming here?”
“She loves it.”
“Is that the truth?”
I bit my lip and then realized that the truth would not hurt.
“Oh, very well. She is overjoyed at the idea of it. But she still is quite intimidated by you. She has not said as such in her letter, but I have been her sister for practically my entire life. I know how to read between the words that she has written. I also have a distinct memory of her history with you. She stands in awe of you.”
Mr. Darcy looked ahead, and I did not wish for him to feel insecure over it.
“It is not her fault, you see,” I furthered. “You must understand. You are a large man, with a large presence, and from a larger world than ours. She cannot help but feel affected by you and feel intimidated. I daresay, she is like everyone else in this world.”
“Very well. What should I do to remedy this situation? Is there any way that I can change her opinion of me?”
“I like that question,” I pointed out, giving him a warm smile. “I like that you want her good opinion. That is very flattering. Also, you asked yourself how you could earn her esteem rather than she earning your respect. That means that you are broadening your desire to have people like you. It is a very good thing.”
Mr. Darcy chuckled. It was lovely to witness.
“That is it,” I realized, “that is what you can do.”
“Pardon?”
“When you see her, smile at her. It does not have to be a frequent thing. Just smile at her once you see her when she arrives. That will help her feel at ease. It will help her love you.”
“And done!” Colonel Fitzwilliam announced.
This sudden declaration seemed to break a spell that fell between Darcy and me. We both jumped somewhat, and we turned to the Colonel.
“I have finished drawing Miss Bennet’s silhouette,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a grin. “And it is terribly done. It does not do you justice at all, Miss Bennet. I fear that you shall lose all faith in me.”
“I am certain that it is splendid,” Jane said. “And it would be a great deal better than any silhouette that I could make of you. I never learned the slight bit about art.”
“It would not be your fault. For how can you make a toad into a handsome prince?” he asked. “We do not all have your beauty.”
“You are no amphibian, sir,” she said with a pert smile.
“Come and look at my failure, Miss Elizabeth,” Colonel Fitzwilliam called.
“I am always ready to give a compliment instead.”
Darcy and I walked to the other side of the room and Colonel Fitzwilliam was still holding onto the silhouette, without it being shown.
“Truly I wish that I could draw. It is painful to have not one talent in the world.” Jane laughed. “Why could I not have been very good at music?”
“Talent in personality is just as vital at talent with an instrument,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied. “Who needs someone who can play the pianoforte if they are unbearable to speak to?”
“Then accept the effort being this,
please, and not the execution,” Jane responded. “I long to see your silhouette of me.”
Smiling, he showed us the silhouette.
It looked perfectly fine.
“Jane, it is lovely,” I responded.
“That is my profile completely!” Jane declared. Taking the picture, she looked at it. “Might I request a suggestion?”
“You wish for me to redo it?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.
“Never, for I adore it. But… oh, I do not even know what it is called. Artists do it. It is when you keep the subject as the color on the page, but you color in the background as black.”
“Oh, I know what you refer to,” the Colonel gathered. “Yes, to set off the complementary colors and to augment your silhouette.”
“Precisely. Would you be willing to draw or color in the background so that I can have a full picture of it? I would love that. Oh dear! I am being direct and a little insensitive. I am being indelicate and am pushing my will on you.”
“You made a request,” the Colonel said, “and you were just eager for it. While I thank you for making certain that I never felt pressured to do anything that I worried was beyond me, I shall make an exception in this case, for you are a welcome guest. Yes, Miss Bennet. If Mr. Darcy has any charcoal stored away, then I shall finish it.”
“Excellent,” Jane replied.
Standing next to me, Mr. Darcy leaned into my ear.
“They truly appear smitten with each other,” he whispered.
“Yes,” I replied, also whispering, “god help us.”
Chapter 10
The Other Sister
The next day, Jane and I rose to have a breakfast with both Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam.
The surprise of seeing the Colonel was on two different levels between Jane and me. With Jane, her surprise was innocent, and it soon gave way to enthusiasm on her part.
Yet, with me, my surprise leaned more towards alarm. He had come even before visiting hours. Of course, it was his cousin’s home, but I got the feeling, quite quickly, that he did not come because of all the comfort he felt in imposing his company on his cousin. But rather, I felt it was because he just wished to spend more time with Jane to the point where he was ignoring proper social traditions, habits, and decorum.