I know I promised this chapter for Sunday... but my family randomly threw me a birthday party a day in advance so I could not find the time to upload. (You know you are starting to get a light case of memory loss when you forget your own birthday, despite not-so-subtle hints your family and friends have dropped you all week and despite having walked this earth for scarcely more than twenty years).

Again, countless words of gratitude to my two betas, Jim and Linda, for having done an insanely good job with this chapter in record time! Any subsequent mistake is mine alone.


Chapter 3: A Frustrating Change (of Rooms)

Satisfied with her letter, Elliot began to concentrate on her assignment, hoping to conclude everything before dinner. She was so bent to her task that she did not feel the first pangs of hunger before four o'clock. As she was readying to leave for the dining Hall, she remembered her promise to meet with Mr. Wickham. She knocked at his door with every expectation of his answering, but after ten minutes of waiting, she could no longer deny her hunger and left without him.

Dinner was a rather mundane affair. After collecting her soup and tray, she made sure to remain aware of her surroundings and, this time, successfully kept the liquid within the bowl until she sat. A few of the students Mr. Wickham had dined with the previous evening waved her over, but as they had little to say to her apart from the usual civilities, she was content to relax and eat in relative silence. When the joint was served and Wickham was still nowhere in sight, she decided to simply take a small portion and risk being the laughing stock of his friends. By then, she knew they would suspect her to be of a frail constitution rather than assuming her to be of the opposite sex. Upon reflection, Elliot thought perhaps she had been too anxious on her first day to think logically. Nobody sensible would conjecture that a man was actually a woman just because he consumed less meat than other men.

As she stood to leave, she noticed Mr. Darcy walking toward the door from the far side of the room where he ate alone. Despite wanting to avoid the disagreeable man at all costs, Elliot was too strong-willed to sit down and wait for him to leave first. Instead, she strode purposefully out the room, hoping he would not her catch up.

She had greatly underestimated him. Mr. Darcy was long-legged, and she was, in comparison, rather petite (though she dearly hoped she would not remain so forever). She knew she had a brisk walking pace compared to other girls her age, but Mr. Darcy was a well-built man. Thus, it came as no surprise when he reached her just as she rounded the corner of the Hall. Determined not to walk with him, she slowed instead, hoping he would pass without a word, as he usually did.

She was sorely vexed when Mr. Darcy too, slowed his pace. She knew he was behind her by the sound of his footsteps, and she believed he purposely slowed his pace to taunt her. Frustrated beyond words at the day's events, Elliot decided to try walking rapidly to test him. Sure enough, Mr. Darcy's footsteps also hastened.

By then, Elliot was not only frustrated, but becoming increasingly anxious. What is Mr. Darcy trying to accomplish by following me around? Was he meaning to frighten her by silently stalking her to her room? The man must be made known that her courage rose with every attempt to intimidate her!

Just as she reached her front door, she abruptly turned and sent him her most ferocious glare.

"And what do you think you are doing, sir?" she asked angrily, frustrated beyond any attempt at civility.

"Beg your pardon?" Mr. Darcy halted a few steps away. His face betrayed his surprise at being so suddenly addressed.

"You have been following me since the Hall. If you mean to intimidate me, sir, I pray you would desist for it is a futile attempt."

The man actually had the nerve to look amused. "Is this what you have assumed for the last five minutes?"

"What other reasons can there be? Pray enlighten me."

"For one, I could be lodging in this room," he said, pointing to Mr. Wickham's door.

Elliot raised a brow. "That dorm, I regret to inform you, is currently occupied by Mr. Wickham."

With a wry smile, Mr. Darcy pressed his key inside and opened the door. "And I regret to inform you that I have the misfortune of sharing it with him." Without another glance, Mr. Darcy disappeared within.


It was only much later that Elliot calmed enough to risk knocking on Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy's door. Her fervent prayers were answered when the former appeared and grinned rather becomingly at her.

"Forgive me, Elliot, for missing our appointment earlier," he professed. "I had... another pressing issue. I hope I can compensate you, somehow."

"You certainly can," she answered playfully, already disposed to forgive him for his offense when compared to those that Mr. Darcy inflicted.

"I shall do whatever is in my power to do!" he said gallantly.

To Wickham's bewilderment, Elliot suddenly quieted. His young friend coloured all the way to his ears and stubbornly looked to the ground as he spoke. The lad's voice was so soft Wickham had to lean down to fully comprehend him.

"I am... you must understand I am still quite young..." she stammered. She had come to borrow something of an unseemly nature, and was at a loss as to how to go about it. She twisted the hem of her student gown, fidgeting nervously. "I am not... I have not..." she pursued valiantly, but could not find the courage to continue.

"Good God, what is the matter!" Wickham said impatiently.

"I am afraid... that I am too young to be comfortable bathing in company," she finally forced out, her blush spreading all the way to her neck. She dearly hoped Mr. Wickham would believe her when she said Elliot was discomfited employing the common showers only because of his young age! She certainly could not tell him the truth.

Wickham remained quiet for a few moments, before understanding finally dawned and he burst into laughter. He patronizingly patted her shoulders as he choked between fits of hilarity. "Do not worry, old sport! It will definitely grow to be a respectable size as you age! Nobody will make sport of you if it is small, I assure you!"

Elliot shook her head. She did not fully recognise from whence came Mr. Wickham's amusement, but her mortification was so great to be speaking of bathing at all, that she would not be bothered to ascertain to what he might be referring. "No… I do not wish to be seen!" she insisted. "Please, Mr. Wickham, you are the only one who can help me. Could you not lend me your basin for the night? I shall call a servant to fill it in my room. Surely, they will understand my dilemma!"

Unfortunately, Mr. Wickham had not laughed sufficiently at her expanse. He tried in vain to quiet his outbursts, only managing to regain some semblance of equanimity a few moments later. "Forgive me, Elliot, for my lack of self-control. I had not expected... well, you seemed like such a confident young man. I see now that everyone has weaknesses. Well, do not fret, I shall help you." Mr. Wickham disappeared inside the room and came out with not one, but two basins.

Still too embarrassed to think logically, Elliot vehemently thanked him, promising to return both items on the morrow and departed for the safe haven of her quarters. She made tedious progress, trying to bathe using only a towel, some soap, and three basins. By ten o'clock, however, her efforts were rewarded; she was fresh and clean again.

Later in the evening, as Mr. Darcy returned to his bed chamber and prepared to retire, he was all consternation to find one rather important element for his ablutions missing from his room. He cursed the lack of locks on bedroom doors[1], and once again lamented his fate. His father's wish for Wickham to remain in school was the only reason he refrained from throwing the fellow out of their lodgings.


By five o'clock in the afternoon on Thursday, Elliot was beginning to question the Lord's seemingly sarcastic sense of humour. It was not enough of a punishment to share both her philosophy and mathematics classes with Mr. Darcy on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Indeed, Mr. Darcy appeared determined to torment her in law class on Tuesday and Thursday morning, too. She had not a single class in the whole of the first term that did not include Mr. Darcy, whereas she only shared the philosophy lecture hour with Mr. Wickham.[2]

All of this she learned when she bumped into her more annoying neighbour the morning after the embarrassing bathing incident. She was returning the two basins to Mr. Wickham on his threshold when Mr. Darcy emerged from within his study and looked at them so disapprovingly she thought his eyes would burst from their sockets. When Mr. Wickham handed one of the basins to Mr. Darcy, her mortification was complete. As Mr. Wickham placed his own on a table in the common room, Elliot realised what had transpired. She could not help colouring to her cheeks, and she attempted a hasty retreat. Mr. Wickham halted her with a smile and a pat on the shoulder.

"Would you like to walk with us to Chapel this morning, Elliot?" Mr. Wickham asked politely. "Perhaps we can break our fast together. Pray, what lectures do you sit today?"

Walking with Mr. Darcy to Chapel, even in the company of Mr. Wickham, was the last thing Elliot wanted. She could not find a suitable excuse to refuse the harmless invitation and thus was forced to accept. "I have an introductory course on law from nine to eleven," she answered.

To her consternation, Mr. Wickham made no reply. He sent a rather becoming smirk Mr. Darcy's way, which made that man's countenance even more forbidding. Mr. Darcy, ready for the morning service, locked the door behind them.

"Let us make haste then, Bennet" said he. "If you would but hurry, we can proceed to class together after breakfast. I must warn you, however, that I certainly will not wait for you if you tarry unnecessarily."

Biting her lips in frustration at his lack of manners and excessive self-importance, Elliot made no reply. The man's poor opinion of her punctuality had already been established with but one blunder on her part. Her tardiness yesterday was only attributable to her friendship with Mr. Wickham, who could not have known a drop of jam would sully his breeches! Indeed, there could be no greater punishment than to be constantly forced into the company of Mr. Darcy!


Despite her resentment, Elliot was not of an unreasonable character. She knocked upon Mr. Darcy's door at precisely 5 o'clock that afternoon to collect his written assignment and offer her own for Mr. Wickham. Unfortunately, her friend was nowhere to be found, and she was once again alone with her more disagreeable neighbour.

"Wickham has not returned since this morning," was Mr. Darcy's explanation. "I will offer to look through your assignment in his stead, if you wish. As for his contribution, I have never witnessed him labouring upon it yet."

"And have you kept a constant vigil upon his actions?" Elliot asked, irked at his pretension.

"I have not," Mr. Darcy replied, irritated. "In fact, I try to have as little to do with Mr. Wickham as possible." He directed a pointed look at Elliot, as if to convince him to do likewise.

"Perhaps you would not be half so cross with him if you would simply take the time to become better acquainted," Elliot suggested, but not without the intent to taunt.

"I am more acquainted with him than I would ever wish to be… but enough of that. I have no need for your help with my assignment, but I will read yours. You are welcome to look in Mr. Wickham's room for his, should you miraculously find any." Mr. Darcy entered his study without another word.

Incensed at his attitude, Elliot dismissed the rules of propriety and took up his offer. She searched the surface of Mr. Wickham's desk, convinced her friend would not have neglected his work. Sure enough, three papers bound together lay there. A note addressed to her was written atop the assignment.

To Elliot,

I fear Mr. Darcy has been extremely busy and anxious lately. I felt it would be insensitive of me to add to his burdens with this assignment. I am currently out on some errands, but I was secure Mr. Darcy would let you in when you came to bring me your essay. If you still wish me to read it, pray leave it upon this desk. If I may be so bold, I would be grateful if you took mine and reviewed it. I will pass by your door later tonight.

Sincerely your friend,
George Wickham

Elliot could not help felling touched by Mr. Wickham's consideration for his neighbour, even though Mr. Darcy was hardly deserving of it. She had not seen Mr. Wickham at dinner the day before, and was convinced he had been labouring hard upon his paper. She was not disappointed, but Mr. Darcy surely would be if he heard of it. Fortunately for Mr. Darcy, Elliot was not feeling particularly vindictive, and so was not inclined to wave the note under his nose.

Back in her study, she read Mr. Wickham's essay without any expectations. She was therefore pleasantly surprised by the quality of the work. Mr. Wickham cleverly commented upon Aristotelian ethics, affirming his belief that it is better to act for good rather than simply studying what is good. He provided contemporary examples of the benefit good works brought to society and even drew parallels to remarks of other great thinkers. The conclusion, however, was perplexing. The hand became slightly sloppy, the lines less confident. She decided to point it out to Mr. Wickham when he arrived to fetch it. It would not do for him to go slack on the final part of the essay when the rest was so cleverly done. The conclusion notwithstanding, Elliot had little else to correct and Mr. Wickham ascended even higher in her esteem.

Her first visitor of the night, to her surprise, was Mr. Darcy. Two hours after she had left Mr. Wickham's study, Mr. Darcy knocked on her door with her assignment. He had perused it carefully, he assured her, and written his comments upon a separate sheet. He then bowed and left her to her own devices without another word.

Elliot forced herself not to expect too much from Mr. Darcy. She was thus prepared to receive his criticism. Just as Elliot had foreseen, it was short and concise and did not offer much explanation.

You have a clear understanding of Rousseau, but a rather unbecoming feminine hand. The subject matter is tolerable at best. I would advise you to revise the entire essay, if you have the time, for every sentence displays a boasting attitude, which I am convinced the professor will frown upon.

Boasting attitude? Tolerable subject matter? Elliot was incensed (although she could not defend her feminine penmanship). If only Mr. Darcy had given her some explanation, she could accept it all with more grace. She read through her paper again, but could not fathom from whence he found her "boasting attitude". She knew her criticism of Rousseau's view on the non-necessity of education for women could be seen as avant-garde, but her opinions were supported with sufficient proof. She was moderate in her arguments, only defending points she knew would be seconded by many current influential thinkers. But Mr. Darcy made it sound as if she were promoting something as controversial as a popular rebellion! Vexed beyond her patience, Elliot decided she would submit her assignment as it was, and promptly crumpled Mr. Darcy's note.

Mr. Wickham came before curfew to collect his essay, accepted her comments with good grace, and left for his room. Elliot submitted her assignment Friday morning, and spent her Saturday and Sunday at leisure, mainly in the College library or in the comfort of her room. She dared not walk around as Elizabeth, for the memory of falling from the tree in Mr. Darcy's presence was still fresh in her memory. She consoled herself with the knowledge that she could best avoid Mr. Darcy by staying as long as possible within the confines of her study.


"Mr. Darcy, Mr. Wickham, and Mr. Bennet, I ask you to remain here, please," said Professor Wiseman after dismissing the rest of the class the next Monday morning. Once the lecture room was emptied of all others the professor continued. "There are two pressing issues involving the three of you that I wish you would reflect upon. The first concerns you, Mr. Bennet."

Surprised, Elliot remained silent and stared.

"I find your subject matter rather unconventional. Very few students would dare to write on such a polemical topic."

Elliot wished to defend herself, for the professor had given them free choice of topic, after all. It would be dishonest of him to penalise her simply because he found her choice distasteful. She kept silent, however, and was rewarded with what the professor said next.

"I applaud your courage and the clever arguments you employed. What I cannot condone, however, was the arrogance in the construction of your sentences."

"Forgive me, but I do not understand," Elliot blurted. Arrogance? She could not reckon why, of any shortcomings, she would be accused of arrogance!

Professor Wiseman returned her assignment with an arched brow. "Pray, read me your essay, Mr. Bennet."

Confused and mortified, Elliot could only do as she was bid. She began to read haltingly:

"Durant les cinq dernières années, l'influence de Jean-Jacques Rousseau, philosophe contemporain, fut répandue au-delà des frontières de la France. Son ouvrage intitulé Émile ou De l'Éducation, très populairement célébré, promeut cependant un débat qui concerne..."

Professor Wiseman raised a hand to stop her from continuing. "That is enough, young man. I will not comment on your deplorable pronunciation—you have not had much practise, have you?—but I shall only be grateful your written French is better than your spoken accent. Do you understand now, Mr. Bennet? What in the world compelled you to hold forth in another language?"

"Sir, Jean-Jacques Rousseau's original works were published in his native tongue. I felt it appropriate to..." she began, but once again was interrupted.

"Tell me... are you perhaps the son of Mr. Thomas Bennet, who attended this very class five-and-twenty years ago?"

Elliot nodded, not unprepared for such a question. Her father was a poor correspondent, but he did keep some semblance of connection with his favourite University lecturers. His peculiar character and singular opinions had become somewhat infamous amongst the professors during his studies.

Mr. Wiseman guffawed merrily and shook his head in wonder. "I assume you have never had a proper education before this, Mr. Bennet. No private tutors and no boarding school?"

"None, sir," Elliot replied. "All my knowledge comes from my father's library. I hope this will excuse my poor pronunciation of the fashionable language."

"I can well understand why you wrote in French, in that case. Only a man like your father would delight in and encourage these impertinent habits. I still remember his first submission in my class, a rather unconventional commentary on Plato's Allegory of the Cave. His subsequently explained views on education were extraordinary at best, and his criticism of boarding schools exceedingly ruthless."

Elliot made no reply, but she smiled at this accurate description of her father.

"However," the Professor continued, "I will not permit an offense of this order in the future. You are fortunate I knew your father, for you would be harshly punished for such insolence by any other professor. I will overlook your blunder this once, young man, but I expect to see quality work submitted in English from now on."

Elliot quickly assured him she would be more careful in the future. Mr. Darcy's warning now made much more sense, but she could not forgive that he felt it beneath him to explain himself to her. She was about to leave, but Professor Wiseman halted her.

"I am sure you have learned this lesson, Mr. Bennet. But you might wish to stay and hear Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy's offense, should you feel I have been soft on you."

The three students suddenly became very still.

"Unfortunately, there has been a case of plagiarism that concerns you, Mr. Wickham and you, Mr. Darcy," the professor declared. "Both of you have submitted largely similar essays, with only your conclusions differing. You also share similar penmanship, which makes it difficult to discern which of you is the perpetrator."

Mr. Wickham was the first to speak. "Mr. Darcy and I had the same tutors as boys, which explains our similar writing style. However, I assure you I am the first to have finished my assignment. Mr. Bennet here can attest to that!"

All heads turned her way, and Elliot suddenly felt exceedingly uncomfortable. "I cannot account for it, sir, since I have not read Mr. Darcy's work. I can only assure you that Mr. Wickham's was completed before five o'clock on Thursday last. Mr. Darcy did not allow me to read his, despite our previous agreement, and I did not insist," she declared truthfully.

"And what do you have to say in your defense, Mr. Darcy?" Professor Wiseman asked.

His pride caused Mr. Darcy to remain silent, his mien betraying his consternation at the turn of events. "I have no witness to make my defense, but I am confident time will reveal the truth in this case. If I were to stoop so low as to copy another's assignment, it could only be attributed foolishness on my part. I can, nevertheless, prove my innocence by consistently submitting superior work in the future. Whether Mr. Wickham can assure you of the same, I cannot vouch for."

Surprised and rather pleased by Mr. Darcy's self defense, Professor Wiseman declared any further punishment of the students would not be assigned until one of them was proved innocent. "However, in order to prevent further occurrences, I have arranged for a change of living arrangements to separate Mr. Darcy from Mr. Wickham. From now on, Mr. Wickham will live alone, and Mr. Darcy will share his lodgings with Mr. Bennet. Both of you have largely dissimilar penmanship, which will hopefully discourage the repetition of today's infraction."

The reactions in the room were vastly dissimilar. Mr. Wickham, to no one's surprise, was exceedingly delighted to be freed of Mr. Darcy's constant presence. His neighbour, however, could rejoice only very little at being saddled with the young and excessively impertinent Mr. Bennet.

Elliot, in light of the day's follies, could not decide whether she were more inclined to laugh or to cry.

TBC

[1] Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham are sharing a double set room. They share living rooms, but have separate studies and bedrooms. The latter two, however, cannot be locked in this story.
[2] Freshmen used to share largely the same introductory classes on their first year, unless they had a specific orientation.


Next up: Wickham shows Elliot all the good stuff about University life. And by that, he means all those healthy physical activities men like to engage in.

What do you think will happen now that Elliot and Darcy are as good as locked in the same closet possibly for the next three years? Share your thoughts below!


P.S.: I had a question about whether it is possible for Elliot to even attend University at age 14. Most young men of her social standing were in boarding school. This is my historical interpretation:

According to multiple sources, University at the time was mostly meant for the upper class society to form connections. Graduating was extremely easy to achieve, once you were accepted into College. University wasn't meant to be a higher source of education, unless you were intended for the law, the clergy, or medicine. For gentlemen like Darcy and Elliot, who did not need to have a profession, attending school was for social experience (although both being studious, they totally used that opportunity to bury themselves in the College library and learn as much as they could). Thus it wasn't impossible for gentlemen to go to Cambridge at a younger age, it was just uncommon. Sometimes, these students stay four or five years before graduating. The youngest age permissible was 14 at the beginning of the 19th century, according to Joan Klingel Ray in Jane Austen for Dummies.

We've learned in this chapter that Mr. Bennet has a bad opinion of boarding school. He wouldn't be the only one of his time to feel like this. So, instead, he preferred to educate Elliot with only the help of his library (like he did with Elizabeth in the original P&P). The real reason he sent Elliot to University, though, shall be revealed in later chapters. For now, all we can conclude is that Mr. Bennet himself was at Cambridge, loved the experience in comparison to boarding school, and had no objection to sending "a son" there.