All'ombra de' cipressi e dentro l'urne
confortate di pianto e forse il sonno
della morte men duro?
-Dei Sepolcri, Ugo Foscolo
The kipper sat alone in the centre of a large white plate. A grey-orange sheen wavered over it's glossy surface and the sunken eyes in it's bifurcated head glistened with fat.
Anne poked it gingerly with a fork.
Mrs Darcy frowned at her from her end of the table.
"Is there something wrong with your food, Miss de Bourgh?" she asked with apparent sincerity, "Would you prefer something else?"
Lady Catherine tore herself away from berating one of the servants about the table settings to look over at her daughter.
"What's the matter Anne?" she started before exclaiming "Is that a kipper? Who served you this? You there! Come here this instant! Take away this wretched fish and get my daughter some appropriate food for an invalid."
After much wrangling and discussion about the correct soaking method for oats and pointed enquiries on the freshness of the cream Anne was eventually served a bowl of porridge. She picked at it without much enthusiasm and watched the master and mistress of the house as they discussed their plans for the day. They were vexingly happy with one other.
She felt eyes upon her and was mortified to realise that Georgiana was watching her with concern. Anne coloured and turned to away to attempt conversation with the person on her other side.
Unfortunately, that person was Mr Bennet.
He started back from her salutation but rallied quickly.
"I hope you are in better health this morning Miss de Bourgh?"
She assented.
"Ah good" he replied. "I think you were right to forgo the kippers. I mean no disrespect to Pemberley's cook, I'm sure they're entirely fine as kippers go, but I never quite feel comfortable with my breakfast staring at me in that way."
He then demonstrated his enthusiasm for breakfasts without eyes by taking a large mouthful of toast and chewing so determinedly as to prohibit further conversation. Miss Bennet, too, seemed unusually focussed on her mastication, and for no apparent reason Anne could figure.
Turning to observe Lady Catherine and Mrs Bennet, Anne was suprised to discover that Mrs Bennet was one of the few people of her acquaintance who was exactly as Lady Catherine had described her. The two older women were engaged in a spirited discussion about hypothetical names for any future Darcy children. Their opinions on this topic neither sought or desired, the parents of these hypothetical children were sharing some sort of private joke across the table.
Anne sighed, turned back towards Georgiana and smiled in what she hoped was a welcoming manner.
Her cousin responded by flinching back with more horrified surprise than Mr Bennet, followed by an unconvincing attempt at good cheer.
Anne wondered how people so easily spooked had lasted so long in a house with her mother.
Georgiana made a brave attempt at a smile and said "I am glad you are well this morning, we were all quite worried about you yesterday"
"I am not well" replied Anne.
"Oh! No! Of course not, I just meant..um.." here she trailed off and looked about to attempt an escape like Mr Bennet's before she suddenly exclaimed "Mary!"
Miss Bennett looked up, surprised, from her philosophical meditations on eggs and toast.
"Miss Bennet and I are going to perform a duet for everyone later, isn't this right Miss Bennet?"
Mary swallowed and said "Yes"
She paused and then continuued "I hope you will be able to attend, Miss de Bourgh. Lady Catherine has mentioned that you are fond of music, and I have heard it said that music is food for the body as well as for the soul. Perhaps we two might affect some small positive change towards improving your physical afflictions."
Anne was spared having to think of some appropriate reply to this by Lady Catherine deciding to join the conversation.
"Anne! Georgiana! I am glad to see the two of you together again. It has been far too long since you came to visit us at Rosings my dear, I know Anne has missed your company terribly"
Anne smiled encouragingly at Georgiana, but hopefully not so encouragingly that she might actually take up Lady Catherine's offer.
"It really is quite terrible about poor Mrs Jenkinson, for who is to take care of Anne now? Without someone to read to her she is quite without occupation."
"Oh!" said Georgiana with "That is terrible! Can noone else read to her?"
"Well, but of course you would want to help dear. I think this afternoon would be best, after we return from church."
Her goal achieved Lady Catherine went back to championing the proud history of the name Lewis, leaving her daughter and niece to wonder quite what had happened.
As Mary walked down the corridor after breakfast she was unexpectedly accosted by a distraught Miss Darcy.
"Oh Mary, please tell me you'll help me!" she said mournfully.
"If I can, of course, but with what?"
"Miss de Bourgh! It's not that I don't want to read to her, but she's so fierce! I am sure I will read badly to her and she will be angry."
"Fierce?" repeated Mary. She thought back to the small, quiet women she'd seen at breakfast. "Is she the sort to be violent? I suppose she must be very different when she is well."
"Oh, no! She would never be violent! And she is never really well, though she does seem particularly fatigued at the moment. "
Mary regarded Georgiana with confusion.
"She never means to be cruel I'm sure, and she it's not that what she says is so very critical, but...she just gets this look and I know she's annoyed at me, and that makes me nervous, and then I say something really stupid, and that makes her more annoyed and it's just terrible."
"She doesn't make me nervous" said Mary stoutly.
"Exactly!" said Georgiana "Even Lady Catherine doesn't pierce your calm, and I think she scares my brother. If you're there I'm sure I will ever so much braver."
Sitting in an ill-lit corner of Miss de Bourgh's room, Mary had ample opportunity to rue her generosity. As much as she did not enjoy reading to her mother, it turned out to be infinitely preferable to being forced to sit in silence and listen to someone else read what sounded like bad poetry in a language she didn't understand.
She had just counted all the leaves in the plaster cornices and was beginning to divide them into categories based on shape when Miss de Bourgh turned to her and said "Do you not like poetry Miss Bennet?"
"Poetry" Mary replied "I have heard it said, is one of the finest forms of artistic expression devised by the human mind. I have memorised many edifying verses in both english and french. But I do not speak italian."
"Oh" replied Anne "Well this can't have been very interesting for you"
"No"
"I am so sorry!" cried Georgiana "How selfish of me not to think of it!"
"Don't be silly" replied Anne curtly "It was my choice, and my responsibility. Now. Miss Bennet, which of these books would you find more suitable?"
Mary walked over to the bedside table and perused the spines of the small pile of books upon it.
Some flicker of her thoughts must have passed across her face, since Miss de Bourgh felt the need to add "My mother chose them"
"Ah"
Mary quickly rejected several volumes of poetry (there'd been enough of that for one afternoon) and anything which consisted mostly of pictures (that seemed rather to defeat the purpose). She began to wonder at finding anything worth reading but right at the bottom of the pile found success.
Anne and Georgiana's faces fell when she held up her choice.
"The Pilgrim's progress?" asked Miss de Bourgh with a pained expression.
"It is regarded as one of the most significant works of English literature." replied Mary. "But I can choose something else if you wish."
"No, no, I am a woman of my word" she replied.
"Well, then. Georgiana, if you do not like it either would you object to me reading the book instead?"
"Object? No, that would be..that is..no, I do not object" said Georgiana.
The two women swapped places cheerfully, both looking happy for the first time since entering the room.
Mary settled into her chair and prepared her best reading voice. This afternoon might not be such a waste after all.
