AN:
Sorry for the long wait! Summer camp is finally over and now I back! FYI, Not a Cursed Child is now my beta.
Thank y'all again for reading my humble little story!
When the Ladies removed after dinner, Lizzy ran up to her sister, and seeing her well-guarded from cold, attended her into the drawing-room; where she was welcomed by her two friends with many professions of pleasure. Lizzy was pleasantly surprised. I have never seen them so agreeable, thought she.
But when the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the first object. Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned towards Mr. Darcy, and she had something to say to him before he had advanced many steps.
Well, that was short lived.
He addressed himself directly to Jane, with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst also made her a slight bow, and said he was 'very glad;' but Bingley's salutation more than made up for their lack of warmth. He was full of joy and attention. The first half hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she should suffer from the change of room, and she removed at his desire to the other side of the fire place, that she might be farther from the door. He then sat down by her and scarcely spoke to anyone else. Lizzy was delighted. All of Jane's past beaus had never been this… genuine. She had simply been a pretty face, and it was only the grace of God that no shady characters had taken an interest in her. It is good that she has finally found someone who cares for her.
Upon hearing her brother mentioning a ball to Jane, Miss Bingley turned suddenly towards him and said,
"By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party, for there are some among us who would not find much pleasure in it."
"If you mean Darcy," cried Bingley, "he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins – but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing."
Mr. Darcy then surprised them all by saying, "On the contrary, I am rather looking forward to it."
There was an awkward moment where only the sounds of Mr. Hurst snoring could be heard.
Miss Bingley, however, prided herself in her excellence at filling silences, therefore the duty fell to her.
She went on to complain about what she did not like about balls and what she would prefer – all, of course, based on her misconstrued ideas of Mr. Darcy's likes and dislikes. When her one-sided conversations failed to gain her any more attention, she got up and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, but the man whom it was all aimed at, remained focused on his book. She was desperate.
"Miss Eliza, let me persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in on attitude."
"As if you would know better than me about walking." She muttered under her breath as she stood.
Miss Bingley succeeded no less in the real object of her civility: Mr. Darcy looked up. Unfortunately for her and her carefully planned future, he was ignoring her presence and staring only at Lizzy.
"Would you care to join us?" Miss Bingley asked, growing more jealous by the second.
"I think not, for I can imagine but two motives for your choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which motives my joining you would interfere."
"What can you mean? I am dying to know! Pray tell, Eliza, can you understand him at all?"
"Not at all," was her answer; "but depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him, will be to ask nothing about it."
Yes, Lizzy was most certainly her father's daughter.
Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in anything, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his two motives.
"You either choose this method of passing the evening," he replied. "because you are in each other's confidence and have secret affairs to discuss,"
Lizzy nearly scoffed.
"Or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking. If the first, I should be completely in your way; and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire."
He was looking chiefly at Lizzy, and had she known him better, she would have realized he was smiling; but as it was, she could only guess.
"Oh! Shocking!" cried Miss Bingley, who was inwardly screaming. "I never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?"
"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said Lizzy, eyebrows arched and smile not absent. "We can all plague and punish on another. Tease him – laugh at him."
"Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind? No, no – that will not do. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself."
She bestowed him with a clearly practiced smile; which he missed entirely, for he was focused on another object.
"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried Lizzy. "That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintance. I dearly love a laugh."
And it would seem as though you have been deprived of such a pleasure, Mr. Darcy, she thought, suddenly feeling very sorry for him.
"The wisest and the best of men," said he, "nay, the wisest and best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke."
"Certainly, there are such people," replied Lizzy, thinking of her youngest sisters, "but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can." Then she added as bait for the fish, "But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without."
Miss Bingley opened her mouth to agree, then thought better of it.
"I do not believe that that is possible for anyone. However, it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule."
"Such as vanity and pride."
"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. Pride," he paused. Lizzy stared curiously back at him. That look is very similar to the one he had in the library, she mused. Very far away. "Is also a failing."
Lizzy smiled. If what Mr. Darcy had just said had been a confession of sorts, then she had uncovered a great clue to the mystery that he was.
"Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume," said Miss Bingley; "and pray, what is the result?"
"I am now perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy is, in fact, as human as the rest of us."
Miss Bingley made a confused face but tried to cover it with a smile, which resulted in her looking as though someone were standing on her foot, refusing to remove themselves.
"And why would I not be?" was his reply.
"Well, sir, you have admitted that you are imperfect, and it is only human to be flawed."
She prayed that he would not notice that she had not answered his question.
"I have faults enough. My temper I dare not vouch for. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. I would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever."
"That is a failing indeed!" cried Lizzy. "To not be able to so easily forgive is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well – I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me."
"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil; a natural defect."
"And your defect is a propensity to hate everybody."
"And yours," he replied with what she was now certain was a smile, "is willfully to misunderstand them."
"Do let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley. "Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst."
Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the piano-forte was opened.
Lizzy, however, paid no attention to anything else for the remainder of the evening, for she was lost in her thoughts.
Could Mr. Darcy be correct? Did she willfully misunderstand people? She was almost certain that he was mostly alluding to her judgement of him. Was he saying she was wrong? – That he was not the man she thought he was? He was, by far, the most confusing person she had ever met. How could he blame her if she was incorrect about his character? But she was not incorrect, was she? Lizzy sighed and looked up at the ceiling. This will have to change, she thought. I cannot continue to misjudge people.
She had always been confident that she could read people like poetry and enjoy the art just as much; but how could one read the book if the pages were upside-down?
AN:
Okay, so I know this chapter was probably a little disappointing, but the next one should be more satisfying. I have high hopes…
Thanks again!
Oh, and please don't forget to review! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated…
