They walked on in silence for a time, thinking about mirrors and statues, and the man finally asked quite timidly, "Miss Bennet, you said that before yesterday, you entertained the idea that we might be friends."
"I did."
"And now?"
"And now… well, I do not know. Have you ever studied physics, Mr. Darcy?"
"Yes, at Cambridge."
"Well, they have a thing called a state change. Some state changes are reversable, and some are not. Heat water enough and it boils, but if you capture all the steam and cool it, you end up with the same water. Fire is not reversable. Burn some wood or coal and nothing can change it back."
"Yes, I agree. Some things can be both. A bell cannot be un-wrung, but if you wait a while, it will be back as it was. It may well have caused someone to act on the sound, but the bell itself will revert to its resting state."
"Yes, exactly! So, you see Sir, I… well… I mean…"
Feeling flustered, Elizabeth paused a moment, and listened to a bit of music in her head. It was one of Mary's dirges, which had a short passage that always soothed her when she was nervous.
The gentleman waited patiently, and she finally said.
"Well, Sir… I would not like to part in rancor, but beyond that… it is difficult to be friends after a day like yesterday. Perhaps I can be done… I do not know. I will be satisfied if we part without hard feelings, with the possibility of meeting some day in the future when some time has passed, the steam has condensed, and the bell is still again. I doubt we can ever be indifferent acquaintances again, but perhaps we could be… something different."
He smiled, and said, "I would like that."
"May I offer some unsolicited advice, Mr. Statue?"
"I would like nothing better, Miss Mirror."
"You previously asserted that I had… what was it… 'ten times your skill in social interaction'."
"Yes, I said that. I stand by it."
Elizabeth sighed, and asked, "Is that as you think things should be?"
Chastened, the gentleman shook his head, and said, "I remember one night in Rosings you told me I needed to practice. I believe you to be absolutely correct. As the Colonel asserted, I never took the trouble."
"Well, let me go back to your original assertion. Obviously, you were speaking euphemistically, as I am not certain it is even possible to have a 10x difference in such a skill. You were using hyperbole to say I was significantly better, no?"
He nodded.
"Whydo you believe I have more skill, Sir?"
"Because it is an established fact! I did not believe you to be superior because I wished it; I believed it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason. In the letter I have in my pocket, which I shall burn for your protection when I return, I counted at least one to two dozen times when I acted in a manner any reasonable person would consider badly towards you, culminating in yesterday's debacle. I counted even more than that by, let us say the 'ladies' of Netherfield that I listened to without acting. Yet in all that time, you have raised your voice precisely once and said something remotely unkind precisely never. Is my counting in error?"
Elizabeth sighed, and said, "Close enough, Sir."
"Well, then, I will stand by my opinion. You are my superior. I believe I will take your advice, and practice."
Elizabeth let a tiny wistful smile grace her face, and said, "Well, Mr. Statue…"
She paused for quite some time, and said, "I applaud your effort, Sir. Would you… could… well…"
He waited another moment, and she finally said, "Would you like to know something… well… Oh, I cannot believe I am saying this!"
She actually stomped her boot like a spoiled child, stared at the ground and came to a halt, causing Darcy to halt beside her.
He waited silently, while he saw a telltale twitching of her cheek that he believed meant she was thinking furiously. He was shamed that he had wanted to marry this woman yesterday, still wanted her hand today, and hoped, without any encouragement whatsoever, that he might one day be able to ask for it again – and yet, he knew so very little about her. He had only seen her angry or frightened once, and he had to admit it took a lot more to rattle her than it took to rattle him. He also had the nagging feeling that he had not actually even seen her really angry or frightened even once and wondered just how bad it might be.
Seeing her seemingly stuck, he said, "You may tell me anything you like without fear of censure or gossip, Elizabeth. I will not repeat it to a soul, not even my cousin or sister. I have no right to ask it and will not. It is your choice."
She snapped, "Of course it is my…"
Then she stopped talking mid-sentence, and he saw her close her eyes tightly while her hand moved as if she were counting something, and finally come to a decision. He recognized the expression from the previous evening, when she had pulled on three pairs of the softest gloves she owned, to crush his hopes with.
At length, she said, "I would like to tell you something important, Mr. Darcy… though I have no idea why."
"I am at your disposal."
Elizabeth sighed, and pulled him into motion once again.
"I will need to remind you of something I said to you once, Mr. Darcy."
Out of curiosity, he asked, "Do you remember everything we have ever said to each other?"
"Of course."
"Do you think that significant?"
"Not really. As you once asserted, I am very intelligent, I live in a mostly static and unvarying society, and it is really not all that hard to keep track of all slightly significant conversations. To tell the truth, I was just this morning trying to make a rough estimate of the total count of words that have passed between us, but I could not keep my mind on the problem long enough to get a good estimate."
"I relived them all last night at some length and multiple times, but I did not count them. I should think the answer to be in the few thousand range."
"Well, let me remind you of something I said from that awful dance in Netherfield. I believe I said something like, 'I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb.'"
She paused, and asked shyly, "Do you remember that?"
He chuckled, and said, "Yes, I can remember the refrain as well with perfect clarity. 'This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure, How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.'
"And what did you think?"
"Much to my chagrin, I suspected you were either teasing me or flirting with me, but… well, then you mentioned Wickham and my thinking became even less rational."
She asked with some perplexity, "What do you mean, 'even less rational'."
"I imagine you cannot know, with all evidence supporting the theory that I am devoid of all proper feeling. Well, to be honest, you had been haunting my dreams for weeks. You know my thinking which I very ill-advisedly told you yesterday, but my feeling has been much stronger and of longer duration than my one brief declaration would imply. I spent most of my time at Netherfield thinking about you."
Elizabeth sighed, and said, "That makes what I need to say either easier or harder… I cannot decide which, and yes, I do realize they are opposites."
"I am sorry to add to your burden, Miss Bennet. I truly am."
"I know that. If I did not believe that, I would be sitting with Mary talking about babies…"
She gasped, and said, "Please forget I said that."
"Said what?"
"Very good, Sir!"
She paused, and said, "Let us go back to my 'tease' from the Netherfield ball that we were each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition. Your two possible explanations were both wildly in error."
"You were neither teasing nor flirting?"
"No, Sir! I was not."
"What exactly were you doing?"
"I was speaking the exact literal truth."
The gentleman abruptly stopped walking, which was expected, so Elizabeth stopped with him.
After a moment, he said, "That statement will require some explanation, Miss Bennet."
"I suspected as much. You see… well… let us return to your metaphorical 10x difference in social ability. I will take your assertion at face value for the moment. Let us just say my skill level is 10 times yours. If true, I can assure you that it is so because I have practiced 100 times as much."
Frustrated by the line of sight of her bonnet, Elizabeth looked around and noticed they were on one of her three usual paths, and they had reached a small glade that was very private. She took off her bonnet, and stood in front of the gentleman, confident they would not be discovered.
"You see, Sir. Here is what I have never told a soul, and very few know the truth except my family and closest friends. You see, Mr. Darcy, I was a horrid child."
He looked surprised, but just waited for her to continue.
"Lady Catherine likes to chastise my mother because we did not have a governess, but we had a very good housekeeper when we were small who acted the part. Her two children died before their sixth birthdays, and she quite doted on us. She almost certainly would have resented a governess."
"I see."
"When I was young, I was very personable and persuasive… and very very very very extremely monumentally stubborn. I could talk a calf out of his milk by just arguing with him until he finally gave in just to end the argument. It meant I got my way most of the time, but also that I alienated just about everyone. In cases where people dug their heels in, I went into frightening fits of temper that were completely overwhelming. My father would occasionally make me sleep in the loft above the horses just to get some peace and quiet. The usual remedies such as beatings, sending me to bed without supper, locking me away in a room to calm down were ineffective."
Darcy stared at her in wonder, and said, "I had no idea."
Elizabeth stared at the ground, and said, "Well, it gets worse. You see… you see…"
He saw a tear escape her eye and wanted with all his heart to brush it away but refrained.
"You see, Sir… there was, and perhaps still is, something not quite right in my head. I became nervous and fidgety, far more than is the usual if I could not be moving. Walking, running, climbing, swinging were not just diversions… they were essential. Sometimes I would wind up the rope on our swing as tight as I could and spend what seemed like hours just spinning one way and the other. It… well, it calmed it sometimes when nothing else would."
Quite gently he asked, "Calmed what, Miss Bennet?"
"Sometimes, my head felt like a crowded ballroom with dozens of people shouting for attention. I could scarce hear myself think amongst all the noise, and I would lash out just to silence them for a while. I know it sounds a bit mad, which is why I would never tell someone I could not trust, but… well… there it is."
"Your trust in me is not misplaced."
"Oh, I know that."
"So, what happened?"
The lady sighed in remembrance, and said, "Well, one day, I was 13 years, 8 months and 4 days old when I had some kind of screaming fit with Charlotte Lucas, the eldest daughter of Sir William."
"I remember her. I talked to her for a while one night at Lucas Lodge. A very sensible woman."
"Yes, well she was seven years my senior, but thought of me as some sort of project. She almost gave me up for lost that day, but she allowed me to calm down for a while."
"How long did it take you to calm down?"
"Two days."
He chuckled, and asked gently, "And?"
"She asked me if I wanted to die alone, unloved and un-mourned, or if I wanted to learn to be a lady, or at least act like one on occasion."
"And?"
"I thought for two more days, and sheepishly asked for help."
"What did she do?"
Elizabeth stared at the ground for a few moments, and finally replied.
"She had no idea, so we just started trying different things. Mary took up the pianoforte and it turned out that her music helped calm me, eventually to the point where just remembering it in my head would help. Charlotte lectured me on deportment, and then did what she called 'drills'. She had learned perfectly well how to get me angry… not that difficult of a feat at the time, so she would either wait until I reached the state naturally or goad me into it. Then she made me calm myself just barely enough to recite the rules of decorum. She would ask random questions or make me recite them backwards. I did not have to act decorously, but I had to prove that I at least knew what the rules were and still did under duress."
Darcy's mouth had been forming more and more into a ferocious frown, and he said, "That sounds… medieval."
"Yes, but somewhat effective. For two years, Charlotte and Mary worked with me. Jane tried to, but… well… it required a level of toughness that she just did not possess. She does have some backbone, but I never saw much evidence of it until after Netherfield."
Darcy looked chagrinned, and Elizabeth said, "None of that, Mr. Darcy. We are beyond that. Jane is happy. Things are as they should be."
She saw the look of sadness on his face, and added, "Well, some things are. Would you like to know what finally did the trick? Turned me into your favorite social mirror?"
"I am dying to know."
For the first time, Fitzwilliam Darcy saw a look of true wonder appear on her face, and for perhaps the hundredth time, he wondered what depths she might have that he may very well never see because of his own lunkheadedness.
"Mathematics. My father caught me in one of my moods when Mary and Charlotte were away, and either as punishment or just to shut me up, he made me sit in his bookroom and read a mathematical textbook for young boys for 2 hours. He bade me sit beside his desk, while he read his own book with a ruler in hand and said I would get a rap across the knuckles for every peep I made. I did manage to keep it down to seven."
Darcy chuckled, and said, "My father did something similar, but he would never pick anything as interesting as mathematics."
"My father had not the slightest idea I would find it interesting. He was more interested in silence than long term effectiveness", Elizabeth said with a frown, wondering if she should really have said that.
"At any rate, at the time, I apparently had trouble with units of measure. He assigned 2 hours and I spent 2 days… and then 2 weeks… and…. Well, for the first time, I had something powerful enough to slow down the churning in my mind. When things because just too much and I could not spin on the swing, or run through the woods, or climb a tree, I could always come back to mathematics. Did you notice a pause yesterday before I spoke?"
"I did."
"I was doing mathematics. Fibonacci and prime numbers in that case. That is what allowed me to calm down enough to think. Then I briefly reviewed a few rules of deportment and was finally ready to speak."
Darcy sighed, and said, "If you had not had mathematics, then?"
"I would have scorched the Earth all around us. I am quite clever enough to think of the meanest, vilest, nastiest things to say. I would have said all your cousin threw at you last night and more. I might have claimed you were the last man in the world I could be prevailed on to marry, or I might have ridiculed you, or even said some of those things your cousin said about 'selfish disdain'. All of those and more would have been at my disposal to hurl with abandon."
He stared at the ground, and finally said, "Thank God for mathematics."
She chuckled, and said, "Or not. Without it, I am certain I would have been shipped off to India or Bedlam long before you met me and the whole thing might have been avoided."
"That would have been a crime against the world."
"Yes, well… now you know just how narrow your escape was, Mr. Darcy."
She said it with an impertinent tone, but he could see by the telltale bit of fidgeting she was doing, that the lady had actually said it quite nervously.
"Or perhaps, it just tells me how narrowly I missed my one and only chance to secure the best woman I have ever known."
Elizabeth snapped up to stare at him, and said, "That is not fair, Mr. Darcy."
"Do you want truth or fairness, Elizabeth? You cannot have both."
She paused, and said, "What is it you want, Mr. Darcy?"
"The exact same thing I wanted yesterday… and something completely different from what I wanted yesterday."
"Those are contradictory and mutually exclusive."
"A habit I acquired from my Mirror Lady."
She smiled nervously for a moment, and said, "I am afraid, Mr. Darcy, I… I… well…"
She paused, tongue tied for the moment, and Darcy thought he could see her doing some type of sums or formulas in her head.
"I cannot… I… well, I just cannot."
Darcy sighed, and said, "I know you cannot, but may I ask you a mathematical question?"
"Of course!"
He took a deep breath, and said, "If you imagine every possible future state between the two of us… with everything you can imagine from you being so angry as to burn Pemberley to the ground to a deliriously happily marriage and everything between, and put all of these possibilities into probability buckets… can you see any chance that someday we might achieve happiness together? Is the total set of future possibilities where we are happy together a null set?"
To her credit, Elizabeth did not blurt out the first thought, or the fifth, or tenth of thirtieth. Instead, she closed her eyes, tried to envision all of those possible states, and tried to see how she felt about each of them.
Finally, she said, "Mr. Darcy… It is not a null set, sir, but I must admit it seems at this point to be sparse."
"I will accept sparse."
"But I cannot. It has all the disadvantages of binding us both to some future state with none of the benefits of commitment."
"You said we might be friends. Is that not a good way to start?"
Elizabeth blew out a breath, and answered, "Heavens, No! It would… well, the expectation would bias the experiment."
"How so?"
"Suppose you asked for a courtship, or even just permission to call on me. At this point, both of our emotions are on a jagged edge due to our shared history. We would spend all of our time tiptoeing around each other, waiting for something to fail. One of us would expose better or worse behavior than our true natures, and the other would spend all our time analyzing the change for meaning. All it would do is vex us, and if we did eventually make a go of it, I do not see how it could be a smart rational decision."
Feeling subdued, and frustrated, Darcy offered his arm and started them walking again. He felt he was so close to something but could not quite get over the last hurtle.
Then an epiphany struck him. It was so obvious in its simplicity, he wondered he had not seen it before. He was not grasping the answer because he was not yet ready. He was in truth only slightly ahead of where he had been yesterday. Yes, he had stared the mirror in the face, but he was like a man who had seen an ugly and scraggly beard in the mirror, accentuated with quite a bit of mud and grease. Seeing these did not make them go away. If he was not willing to apply soap and a razor, he would never be clean.
He finally said, "I understand what you are saying, Miss Bennet. I really do. I am not prepared to be the man that you could fall in love with, and you are not ready to be a woman foolish enough to do so."
"I would not put it that harshly, but yes, that is a reasonable approximation."
"May I make a suggestion."
"I am all ears, Sir."
"When I was in trouble as a lad, like most lads, I would try to lie or talk my way out of it. My father would from time to time say, 'Fitzwilliam, when you have dug yourself a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging. Then you can worry about getting yourself out.' Does that make sense?"
"Of course."
"Well, here is what I propose. I will stop digging, and then I will see if I can find a rope or stick or something to get myself out."
"You seem overly enamored with sticks, Sir."
The jest sent both of them into a giggle that was slightly less uncomfortable than the previous ones had been.
He finally said, "Here is what I propose, Miss Bennet. I know I need to reform my character. I will never again be happy as long as I cannot stare at myself in the mirror with acceptance. That, I am afraid, I must do on my own, or at least with others. You cannot be responsible for that."
"I agree, but I am curious as to your reasoning."
He sighed, and said, "Let us suppose that we courted or married. I would rely on your already well‑developed social senses as a crutch. I would let you teach me, or just shield me from difficulties. Eventually, you would come to resent teaching me, or I would come to resent the need to be taught. Either way, I either would not learn, or you would be frustrated by the need to do my father's job."
She nodded in agreement, unable to really comment on the obviously correct explanation.
"Well, here is what I propose. Today is the fifteenth of April, exactly six months to the day from that unfortunate and fortunate night when we first laid eyes on each other."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"When do they have assemblies in Meryton?"
"Every month on the fifteenth."
Darcy sighed, and said, "Here is what I propose, Miss Mirror. Let us go our separate ways as friends, with a sparse set of possibilities of some unspecified more. You live your life and I will live mine. If you find someone who makes your heart sing, marry him and I will wish you all the joy in the world. If I happen to find the woman I can marry without apology, as you so aptly put it, then I will wed her and hope for the same acceptance."
"And you shall receive it, you have my word."
"I shall continue to work on my character. I cannot promise 100x practice, but I shall do my best."
"Nobody can ask more."
He stopped her, then once again stepped in front of her where they could see each other's eyes.
"Whether I am married or single, reformed or the same, better mannered or still a statue, I will appear at the Meryton Assembly in six months' time, on the fifteenth of October, exactly one year after our first meeting. Whether you are there or not, I will dance with ladies in want of partners. If you are there, I will say hello. If you wish to extend our association, in any way, simply tell me a mathematical formula that I can understand. I shall ask you to dance, and… well, what happens after that is anybody's guess."
Elizabeth stared at him for quite some time, giving way to every variety of thought–re-considering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and so important. After what seemed to her a very long time, and which must have seemed to her statue like an eternity, she gave him the brightest and possibly first truly happy smile.
"I accept your terms, Mr. Statue, with one stipulation. Should we happen to encounter each other any time after, say midsummer, we are allowed to be friends again and talk of anything we wish."
Mr. Darcy sealed the bargain with a kiss on Elizabeth's knuckles, and she wondered just what in the world she had gotten herself into.
Completely on impulse, she jumped up on her tiptoes, very boldly kissed him on the cheek, and said, "I will see you in six months, my friend."
Then she blushed furiously, but unrepentantly, and skipped off down the path to rejoin her sister at the parsonage.
