A/N: Looks like the emojis are about as unpopular as you might think, so I'll consider that a failed experiment. They seem to be neutral at best according to the reviews.
I forgot to mention in the original post that there is some violence later in the story, so you have been warned.
I would like to give a special shoutout to Florausten, who is a blind reader reading a story about a blind Lizzy with a screen reader which I find very interesting. Us software geeks would call that 'meta'. The emojis really played havoc with the screen reader.
And now, welcome to part 2 of the writing experiment. You'll probably figure out what I'm doing by chapter 3. The next several chapters are quite long, 5-6k per chapter.
Loving the reviews and PMs, so keep em coming. Wade
Netherfield Park – Tuesday, 12 November 1810
The sun was less than a hand-span above the Eastern horizon when Fitzwilliam Darcy walked around a large leafless oak tree from his morning ramble. He paused in his wandering for a moment, intrigued by an odd and unfamiliar sound. Being a master of an estate and living on one all his life, he was always surprised by any sound that he could not immediately identify, as they were few and far between.
He paused about a dozen yards from the white sandstone steps leading up to the front door of his friend Bingley's leased estate, Netherfield. The sound was coming from his right and appeared to be a few hundred yards away. Without thinking he turned immediately towards the source, only to be blinded by the sun shining directly in his eyes. He immediately pulled off his beaver to try to block the sun, but his eyes had already been overwhelmed, so it would be a moment before he could see clearly. It was a clear autumn day, crisp and cold, with a very light pleasant breeze blowing from the south. There had been no rain for well over a week, so the drive was clear of mud, dirt and debris, which his valet would no doubt appreciate.
He pursed his lips in concentration as he listened carefully to the sound.
Tap… tap… tap… Thunk.
Tap… tap… tap… Thunk.
Tap… tap… tap… Thunk.
The odd tapping noise was quite regular, repeating perhaps a half‑dozen times, before there was a small pause of a few seconds, and then a resumption of the sound.
Tap… tap… tap… Thunk.
Tap… tap… tap… Thunk.
Tap… tap… tap… Thunk.
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Tap… tap… tap… Thunk.
Tap… tap… tap… Thunk.
Tap… tap… tap… Thunk.
His curiosity fully engaged, he turned toward the sound, and continued peering into the blinding sunlight trying to ascertain the possible source. The sound was coming closer, but not very quickly. He at first thought it might be a badly repaired wagon, but the sound was moving much too slowly for that, unless it was being pulled by a mule that had died a fortnight prior. It was even too slow for a walker, so he was most perplexed. He had not quite resolved the source of the sound, as he could not quite block enough of the sun to see, when the mystery was resolved by a voice.
"You are staring again, Mr. Darcy."
The words were followed quickly by a clearing of his vision, and much to his surprise, he was greeted by none other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet walking down the lane, looking like a goddess walking out of the sun. She was carrying a light cane, and the noise was her tapping it a few times in front of her, followed by a thunk on the fence that abutted the lane. She had spoken without slowing down, so Darcy was able to observe her progress. Miss Elizabeth was apparently using the cane to check for obstructions in the lane, and using the fence to ensure that she stayed near the edge. He surmised she stopped every few paces to listen for any worrying sounds.
Once again surprised by her banter which seemed to skip entirely over the usual greetings, without giving offense, it took him a moment to regain his composure enough to answer.
"Miss Elizabeth. What an… unexpected pleasure."
He wondered if there had ever been a stupider reply to a greeting in the history of the English language, but it was the best he could do. This woman caught him by surprise more often than not. They had been in company half a dozen times, and he had to admit that his vastly improved standing in the neighborhood over what it would have been was entirely due to her efforts. She dragged him around making introductions, prodding him to have discussions, steering him to the worthier companions and away from others, and otherwise instructing him in basic manners for nearly a month.
He had to admit to himself that Miss Elizabeth looked exceedingly lovely this morning, as she always did. She was in a pale-yellow morning dress with a green ribbon tied just below the empire waist, and covered with a dark green pelisse, which was open at the front. She was wearing a straw bonnet with a simple blue ribbon. He could see sturdy and well-tied walking boots peeking out of the front of her skirts, and a simple necklace was her only jewelry. Her clothing was simple, with very little adornment, which he imagined was a conscious choice. He speculated on whether that had been her style before losing her eyesight, an acknowledgment of her new reality, or simply the practicality of having less to go wrong. Either way, he found the lack of lace, jewelry, feathers and other accoutrements refreshing after so much exposure to overdressed and over pampered ladies, with the worst example a couple dozen yards away.
"I have come to see my sister."
Once again caught off guard, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind, "On foot!"
Her face acquired a small grin, and he wondered if she was aware of her expressions as much now that she could no longer see as she had previously. She replied simply and elegantly, "As you see."
He surmised that was all he was likely to get out of her without a little bit more effort, and was intrigued to find her here this early in the morning.
"I beg your pardon Miss Elizabeth, you simply surprised me and my tongue ran ahead of my thinking, which as you well know, happens from time to time."
He was happy to elicit a small giggle from the lady, but instead of smothering it as most ladies were trained to do, she simply enjoyed it for what it was. It was neither overly loud and boisterous like her younger sisters, nor smothered in civility like young ladies were taught in seminary. It was exactly as it sounded.
"I take no offense, Mr. Darcy. I do not imagine you find blind women wandering up the lane every day, so it is hardly surprising you are unaccustomed to the tradition."
Her laugh and her small smile brought an unexpected feeling of pleasure to the gentleman, and he thought perhaps he might extend the conversation.
"Did you walk all the way from Longbourn, Miss Elizabeth?"
The lady had been holding her cane out nearly perpendicular to her legs, and set the tip on the ground and lifted it more vertical to a position where she could hold it with less effort, much like he would do with a walking stick when pausing to talk with an acquaintance. She folded her hands together over the top of the cane, and prepared herself for the discussion.
"Yes sir, it is but 3 miles."
Darcy was surprised by the scale of the endeavor, but she immediately set about putting his mind slightly more at ease.
"Be easy, Mr. Darcy. After receiving Jane's note last night, I was anxious to see her… well… not see her per se, but talk to her and determine if I could do something to make her illness easier. My sister Mary was planning to visit Charlotte Lucas anyway, so she aided me the first couple of miles; after I dragged her out of bed at dawn by her hair of course. I have only been walking down this lane for the past three quarters of a mile or so. My father would have happily sent me in the carriage, but I prefer the walk. I do not do well in carriages."
The matter-of-fact way she said this, left him a bit astonished.
"So, three quarters of a mile alone is not that much for you?"
She smiled again, somewhat enigmatically, and replied, "I once thought of 3 miles as practically nothing. Before I lost my sight, I would wander in the woods for hours and hours nearly every day. Now I must be a bit more circumspect, as you might well imagine. However, Thomas checked this lane carefully, and reported its condition to me last night, so Mary was sanguine about allowing me the last little bit on my own."
His curiosity aroused, Darcy asked, "Thomas?"
"The footman who brought the message yesterday. He is well known to me, and is one of those who always checks the lanes and paths he happens to cross for debris, puddles or any other obstacles. The people who happen by Longbourn always keep me apprised of the condition of all of the trails and lanes they happen to pass."
Darcy was struck by the kindness of these people, which was not overly surprising considering the personality of Miss Elizabeth. That so many would go out of their way to give her such intelligence must be a testament to her character. Darcy was still a bit surprised that her father allowed her to go so far unassisted, particularly without her eyesight. On reflection, he had to admit that it would probably take a very stern father to be able to deny her anything. All his experience with her to date indicated that she would do and say mostly as she pleased, but she did it in a way that everyone simply agreed that her idea was the most obvious and most sensible course of action. He could use that type of…
The thought struck him suddenly, without warning, and somewhat disconcertingly. He would obviously not have this lady in his life after he left Hertfordshire, and he was struck by a surging feeling of sadness at what that would be like. There was clearly nothing to be done about that, but it was an odd, unexpected and frankly unwanted thought that he might peruse at another time.
Seeking to try for once to show proper manners, he asked, "Would you care for breakfast, Miss Elizabeth. I am certain the rest of the household is just sitting to table."
"I thank you Mr. Darcy, but I have already broken my fast. If you would be so kind as to assist me to the breakfast room, I would like to pay my respects to the master and the hostess, thence to ask permission to wait on my sister."
He had to chuckle a bit at this bit of seemingly perfect dose of propriety. He imagined she could perfectly well get to her sister without his assistance, but who was he to quibble?
"It would be my pleasure, Miss Elizabeth."
His long legs ate up the few yards between them in a few paces, and feeling somewhat bold, he simply reached down with his left hand to place her left hand it in the crook of his right arm. He reached over and took her cane in his left hand, having not the vaguest idea whether that would be considered polite or not. It seemed gentlemanly enough, so absent further instruction he would carry on as planned.
"Miss Elizabeth, it is perhaps a dozen paces to the bottom of the steps. I will warn you when it is time to ascend. There are eight steps to the door, and as you probably know, the breakfast room is on the left once we enter the front door."
He was gifted by a genuine smile at his thoughtfulness, and he had to admit that it brought a similar smile to his face, and he wondered if she could detect that in any way.
The conversation in the breakfast room was cordial and to the point. Miss Elizabeth did not bother to swat away any of the somewhat catty comments Miss Bingley threw her way, and within a couple of minutes, she had curtsied and made to leave the breakfast parlor.
Darcy turned to escort her, but she waylaid him by saying, "Please, Mr. Darcy. There is no need to avoid your meal on my sake. Thomas is right out in the hallway, and I shall be quite safe in his hands."
She made a bit of a smirk towards the table, and Darcy had to concede that she had trapped him neatly. He would happily have gone to the stables and eaten an apple in the company of the stable hands to avoid a meal with Miss Bingley, but there was little choice now.
He loaded a plate from the sideboard, got some coffee and sat down to table whilst discussion of the unexpected guest flowed around.
"You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley; "and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition."
"Certainly not."
"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum or even good common sense."
"It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said Bingley.
"I have an excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it."
"I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton."
"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside."
"That is capital," added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.
"If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside," cried Bingley, "it would not make them one jot less agreeable."
"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world," replied Darcy.
Darcy was only participating in the conversation at the table with a quarter of his mind at best, so it was a moment later when at nearly the same time, he realized what had been said, and he also heard Miss Elizabeth speaking at only slightly more than her normal volume.
"… and as usual, I thank you for your diligence on the lane, Thomas. Tell me, is Ellie over her cough yet, and when is Mrs. Jameson going to come over to ask Hill for…"
It was only a snippet of conversation on the wind, and it took him a moment to start wondering at something he had read. Some asserted that when people lost their sight, they sometimes compensated by developing better hearing. Some asserted that the body adapted to the loss, and others claimed that the blind simply paid more attention to what was already coming into their ears. Either way, he had listened to Elizabeth Bennet enough to know she rarely if ever raised her voice. She had done so this time quite deliberately, but not enough for anyone any farther from the door to be able to hear. If she was a master of acoustics as he suspected, she was simply telling him in her own subtle way, that she had heard some or all their conversation… and he realized, that she was not likely to have enjoyed it very much. All in all, he had not acquitted himself noticeably better than the superior sisters, and he thought an apology might be due as soon as it could be arranged.
Evening came and the company retired to the parlor after dinner, without the usual separation of the sexes at Miss Bingley's insistence. Darcy thought that playing cards with Caroline Bingley and the Hursts was probably better than allowing his horse to kick him, but only marginally. Therefore, with the greatest alacrity he managed to occupy himself with writing a letter to his sister. He had a lot to say about Miss Elizabeth, and now seemed a good time.
He had not seen the lady since breakfast as she had mostly kept to her sister's room. Miss Bennet was apparently a good deal more ill than anybody had thought, and had been alarmingly feverish all day. The local apothecary asserted she just had a very bad cold and would most likely be fine in a few days, but Darcy was skeptical. It sounded a lot more like guesswork than anything else, but it was not his business. Bingley had somewhat precipitously invited Miss Elizabeth to stay. He had requested a trunk from Longbourn before Miss Elizabeth really had much to say about it without being impolite, but she seemed appreciative.
The lady had apparently requested a tray in her room with a simple meal for both luncheon and supper, and had been tending to her sister all day without very much relief.
Caroline as usual had latched onto his person like a small dog attaching herself to his trousers, and was prattling on and on about his writing, his letters, his sister, her accomplishments and he knew not what else. Aside from watching to be sure she did not slip in some type of verbal matrimonial trap, he paid her not the slightest attention, even when she started reading the second volume of the book he had been reading earlier and taking turns around the room to try to show off her figure.
Hurst was asleep as usual, and Bingley was at least three‑quarters asleep himself, vacillating between falling over on his chest, and falling back on the chair.
Darcy was right in the middle of a most interesting paragraph when two things almost simultaneously impinged on his conscience. The first was that the endless droning prattle of Miss Bingley came into focus enough to catch the disjointed end of some tirade she was making with her sister, at a volume that she apparently thought confidential, or more likely she did not care.
"that dress… no… fashion… no lace… and those eyes. Why does she not cover them like proper blind people do? Does she now know how disconcerting it is for people of quality to have to look at them? And her conceited independence, does she not know that we all put up with her only out of pity? That no man, no matter how desperate will ever take her over someone who is… whole and complete, not to mention more attractive and better dressed? Why is she even here? Is she trying to trap poor Mr. Darcy? You must have seen her pawing over the gentleman. She cannot be trusted. She probably takes liberties with the local men. You saw how she attached herself to the only true gentleman in the neighborhood. I am certain she is in league with her mother to secure him while her vulgar sister traps Charles. Those sorts of people should not be let loose on the rest of us more deserving…"
He was instantly absolutely and coldly furious. It was the angriest he had ever been in his life, comparable to his anger at Wickham, so visceral was his reaction. Before he knew what had happened, he had snapped the quill in half and stood up knocking both the chair and his desk over, inkwell flying onto the carpet, papers scattering everywhere. His fists curled into balls, and his face contorted into rage, prepared to deliver the setdown of a lifetime. Full of righteous anger, he felt for the first time in his life that he could seriously considering striking a woman, when his attention was arrested by the sound of some piece of furniture falling to the floor outside the parlor door, followed closely by the sound of somebody hitting the floor as well. He did not hear a cry, or anything else besides the sound of a person striking the floor hard and his anger turned to fear. Caroline Bingley was entirely forgotten for the moment as he tried to work his way through the morass of badly placed furniture towards the parlor door. He was on the other side of the parlor so had a dozen yards to cover, and his progress was impeded by Miss Bingley jumping up in alarm and grabbing onto his arm, an action that came within a hair's breadth of costing her a fist in the face.
In an action that seemed like it might have taken an hour, he finally crossed the parlor to the door, skidding to a stop outside in the hall. He looked on in mortification as he saw a small end table lying in the middle of the hardwood floor, and the back of Elizabeth Bennet's dress as she ran up the stairs, both hands clutched on the balcony, limping badly and stumbling almost to her knees every fourth or fifth stair, only to catch herself and continue without uttering a single sound. Worried to death, he called to her, hurried to the stairs and followed her up, as quickly as he could, trying his best to offer her assistance. When he reached the top, he hurried towards the guest wing where the Bennets were staying, only to hear Miss Elizabeth's door slam shut like a harbinger of doom.
The gentleman was still standing breathing hard in the middle of the hall between the rooms the Bennet sisters occupied looking both hurt and ready to kill someone when Bingley appeared. Bingley had been asleep when the words were spoken, so Darcy repeated them softly, as verbatim as he could remember. They first tried talking quietly through the door to Miss Elizabeth, but she would not answer even though he was quite certain he could hear her breathing heavily, as if she had collapsed against the door and slid to the floor. They eventually asked first a maid, and then the housekeeper to check on both Bennet sisters. The servants reported that the elder Miss Bennet was still quite feverish, but resting for the moment, and Miss Elizabeth told them all was perfectly well and she was retiring for the evening.
Neither of the men were in the least bit fooled by that assertion, but there was nothing they could do with respect to the Bennet sisters except await the morning and try to apologize and set things right.
As for the younger Miss Bingley, Darcy hoped her brother would finally grow enough courage to deal with her appropriately, but with a sinking feeling akin to what he had felt three years prior with George Wickham, he hoped rather than believed. In the end, he doubted the result would be any noticeable improvement. As for himself, he was entirely done with Caroline Bingley and decided he would never speak another word to her. He determined to sever all connections and cut her direct if she ever tried to talk to him. He asked Bingley to the library, and told him of his resolution, as well as the fact that his sisters would no longer be able to use his name to gain invitations to social events, then left it to the younger man to rein in his sister.
Dawn found a very troubled Darcy sitting alone in his room, having been listening to the sounds of the house and the woods outside for hours. He was not the one making the disparaging remark in this latest debacle, but his lack of defense for Miss Elizabeth earlier in the breakfast room, and the insulting way he had talked about the Bennet sisters' marital prospects more than once, put him clearly at fault. He also had to admit, to himself at least, that many months of prior indulgence had allowed Miss Bingley to believe she could push the limits of civility beyond all bounds with impunity. He had even agreed with her on many occasions with assertions that were uncharitable at best. Oh, how he wished he had spoken out, but like Bingley before him, the implacable wall of Miss Caroline Bingley was one that no sane man would willingly scale.
Now he found that it was way past time for him to grow up and start acting like a man, and probably far‑far too late. Allowing someone in his presence to disparage a lady was beyond the pale, but he had been letting the harridan get away with it for months out of laziness and a misplaced sense of manners.
Today was the day to start making amends. He had been rehearsing apologies for hours, and even had some notes, and half a dozen starts at letters for Miss Elizabeth, and he need only await a decent hour to try to speak to her. He was dearly hoping to catch her alone to avoid some embarrassment, but that idea caused him even more shame. Was he trying to avoid embarrassment for her or for himself? Without a clear answer to that question, he could not ascertain if he was being any closer to a true gentleman or not; it he was resolutely determined that today was the day he would make amends and start acting the gentleman.
He was startled out of that internal debate by the surprising sound of a coach coming down the lane, despite the early hour. Wearing only his banyan, he ran to a room near the end of the hall where he could see the front driveway, and stared down in mortification. As he sat there helplessly, he saw the coachman jump down, and hurry out of sight towards the front stairs. He came back a few minutes later supporting one side of the elder Miss Bennet who was still looking terribly pale and sickly, but mostly walking under her own power albeit very slowly and with an occasional stumble. Her sister, Miss Elizabeth was holding up her other arm, although she was still limping noticeably on her left side. No servants were helping her, most likely either at Miss Elizabeth's orders to save them from any potential wrath of Miss Bingley; or more likely the sisters had simply sent a note to Longbourn the previous evening without telling anyone the contents and sneaked out of the house with nobody the wiser. Miss Bennet was talking to Miss Elizabeth, and Darcy assumed giving directions. The step up into the coach seemed to be too much for the elder sister, but in a trice, Miss Elizabeth put one foot on the step and a hand on each side of the door, then climbed into the coach unassisted, but still favoring her injured leg and nearly falling over. Once she was inside, she turned about and the coachman simply picked up Miss Bennet and set her carefully inside with what Darcy believed to be a look of longstanding respect and affection. Miss Elizabeth helped her sister over to a seat, sat down beside her and said a few words to the coachman, who nodded and climbed aboard.
As Darcy looked down in consternation, Miss Elizabeth pulled a rug off the far seat, settled it down around herself and her sister, wrapped her arms around the elder Miss Bennet protectively, and the coach left, presumably towards Longbourn.
The sun was midway to the top of the sky, but not giving any noticeable amount of warmth by the time misters Darcy and Bingley arrived at Longbourn. Instead of the flurry of activity they expected to see at any window that overlooked the lane, the house looked quiet and still. It was the very start of the polite time for a morning call, but they surprisingly found Mr. Bennet sitting on a bench on the front porch with an open book sitting on his lap, but no indication he was reading or had been doing so recently.
Darcy had occasionally seen the man at some of the entertainments they had attended, and the elder gentleman rarely seemed to be serious about anything. He had even caught the man apparently making sport of his younger daughters, and occasionally even his wife. In Darcy's limited experience, only the two eldest daughters were always spared. Now the man looked most serious, as he stood up and addressed them as they descended from their horses.
"Gentlemen, may I presume upon your time for a stroll in the garden?"
"Of course, Mr. Bennet. We are at your disposal."
At that, he led the two men to the garden where they wandered among the dormant plants for some time. Darcy and Bingley both knew an apology was well due to both Bennet daughters, and to their family as well but had no idea how to start.
Darcy finally decided that he was most at fault, and started to speak, only to have the older gentleman hold up his hand to dissuade him, so that he could have the first word.
"Gentlemen, I may only presume that either or both of you are here to explain why I had to assist my very ill and feverish but exceedingly stubborn elder daughter up the stairs at first light; or why I cannot get a single word of explanation out of either her, or her normally much more voluble blind sister, or perhaps why this is the only day of their lives they have presumed to use my carriage without my knowledge or permission?"
Darcy said, "Yes sir, that is exactly why we are here."
Mr. Bennet looked at the two of them critically, and replied, "I am displeased, gentlemen! I am most seriously displeased, but I am relieved that you both seem inclined to do your duty as gentlemen. I do not suppose though that I am the one you want to talk to."
Mr. Bingley replied, "Of course you are owed an explanation Mr. Bennet. I must admit sir…"
He was stopped again by Mr. Bennet raising his hand, and he gave the father his chance to speak first.
"Gentlemen, I do not actually need to hear any apologies or excuses at this moment. I doubt very much the experience will build much character for either of us."
Both looked critically at the father, and wondered if he was to simply ban them from his daughters' company. It was well within his rights, and almost certainly what Darcy would do for his sister in the same situation. He stared at both younger men for what felt like some time, before replying.
"Gentlemen, I am not the ones you will have to apologize to, as I am certain you must know."
Both simply nodded, giving the man his due.
"Even so, Jane is now asleep and if you try to talk to Lizzy… well, I shall not be responsible for any injurious words spoken nor actions taken, and let me assure you that being on the end of one of her setdowns will do nothing for your equanimity. Do you understand?"
Both nodded, although they had no idea what to do next.
"Gentlemen. Go home. If something untoward happened in your household, deal with it. If er… corrections need to be made in your society, then see to them. My daughters may or may not receive an apology from one or both of you in one fortnight, if you still inhabit the neighborhood, and if they desire it. Nobody save a few very trustworthy servants knows exactly why or how they got here, and I will take steps to insure it remains so. As far as the neighborhood, including my wife and other daughters is concerned; Jane was not as sick as supposed and preferred to recover in her own bed."
They nodded at the odd judgment, having no idea what else to do.
The gentleman continued, "Mr. Bingley, I heard mention of a ball planned for the 26th of November. Is that still your plan?"
"Yes sir, but I would change it should you ask it of me."
"No… no… no need to change anything, Mr. Bingley. It will make it easier… well, not easier but simpler. If either or both of my elder daughters feel inclined to give you a chance to apologize, they will appear at the ball, and you may commence groveling at your leisure. If they do not appear, you may assume the matter is closed and go about your business, and of course if you do not feel the need to apologize or explain, you are welcome to either leave the county, quietly rescind the invitation, or simply greet my girls as the most indifferent of acquaintances in future."
The two looked at each other and at the lady's father. Both had hopes that some abject apologies at this point, while certainly not redeeming them, might at least begin making amends. Their father obviously thought that was too easy by a wide measure, and neither gentleman could blame him.
With a heavy heart, the two men climbed back aboard their horses, and walked back out the drive.
Upstairs, one lady watched them go with more than a touch of sadness at the absolute and insurmountable unsuitability of such an amiable man's family's total lack of propriety or even common decency. Jane Bennet could put up with a lot, but insulting her sister Lizzy was very-very far beyond even her limits. Insulting her for her blindness was… was… she could not even think of it. Jane fancied herself quite lucky that she had not had time to allow her heart to be engaged, as there was no way possible to attach herself to such a thoroughly unsuitable family, regardless of how rich, handsome and amiable the spineless brother was.
Her next younger sister stood quietly beside her holding her hand, tears running down her cheeks quite unnoticed, regretting that perhaps the only man she had allowed herself to believe possibly worthy of true friendship since she lost her sight, had turned out to be much more as she had feared and much less as she had hoped.