I sit and stare blankly at the hunched man standing at the front of the room, prattling on about pride and prejudice, a book I have read countless times. He examines Ms. Austin's flaws, judging from the reaction of the few other female students around me, it has something to do with being a woman. Normally, I would be angered by this man's arrogance, but today, it does not matter, nothing does. My current state allows me to think of little but the life that I have left behind.
It has been three months since I left London, since I have seen my brother, Ann, Felicity, and Kartik. Kartik. The thought of him sends a shudder down my spine. It is only a sharp and sudden jab to my ribs that brings me out of my stupor. I look around for who has injured me. The boy sitting next to me juts his head towards the front of the class.
"Miss….Doyle, is it?" I look towards the professor calling my name. He looks up from his page and meets my eyes.
I stammer "Ye-yes sir?" the man stares me down. I can feel every pair of eyes form around the lecture hall.
"Can you please tell me how you feel about the opening line of Ms. Austin's book?"
I draw a blank. I have read the book so many times, yet all of a sudden, it eludes me. I panic. The boy who had elbowed me in the ribs edges his notebook towards me. I read what is written 'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife' I think for a moment.
"To me, Ms. Austin's opening phrase is all that I have known for the last year or so, and frankly I am tired of hearing it."
"And where was it that you learned that miss?"
"At Spence Academy for young ladies, sir. It's just north of London, there all women are trained to be no more than pretty pictures, with no depth. I feel that it is not the first line of the novel that speaks to many, but the novel itself." I hold my breath waiting for some sort of recognition. I know what I've said is absolute rubbish, but it's the best I could do.
The professor cocks his eyebrow at me, sizing me up. After what feels an eternity, he addresses the full class, and gives us our reading selection for the next week. As everyone begins to leave the lecture hall, I turn the boy who helped me through this morning. He is a nice enough looking man, sandy blonde hair, blue eyes and a straight nose, a hint of stubble shows on his face, an apparent sign of a rushed morning. I hold out my hand to him. "I thank you ever so much mr…?"
"James, James Middleton."