A/N: More on the Incident.

Chapter 33: Elizabeth's Thoughts on Love

When Elizabeth arrived back in Longbourn, sprinting the entire quarter of a mile with Buccaneer alongside, she was out of breath, and collapsed on the settee in the hall, hugging Buc close. The housekeeper, Mrs. Hill, happened to walk by and was distressed to see the young miss looking disheveled and spent. She brought her a glass of water and waited for her instructions. Once Elizabeth had regained her composure, she gave the rest of the water to Buc and asked Mrs. Hill to take Buccaneer back to the kennel for a treat, told her not to worry about her, and went to Mr. Bennet's library hoping that her father was up and engaged in business for the day. It was just after eight o'clock. The family was beginning to stir. The tears that she had valiantly held off since the incident finally poured down her face as she opened his father's door after two short knocks.

When Mr. Bennet saw Elizabeth at his door, he was alarmed by Elizabeth's tear-stained face as Elizabeth always appeared cool, composed, and clear-headed. Nothing before this had fazed his young and fearless daughter. Miss Elizabeth ran to his father and flung her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his father's chest while exclaiming and sobbing, "Papa!"

Mr. Bennet placed his arms securely around his favourite daughter's shoulders and spoke softly, "Sweetheart, you are well, aren't you, what is the matter? It is alright now. Whatever happened will be dealt with. Tell me why my strong and dauntless daughter is so distraught."

Elizabeth cried a little longer but finally calmed down enough to say brokenly, "I shot Mr. Wickham with my pistol and he is hurt, bleeding profusely! He might have died by my hand!"

"You shot Mr. Wickham! Where did this happen and how did you run into him so early in the morning?" Mr. Bennet was truly disturbed on hearing this.

"I was coming back to the house from vocal practice on the edge of the west field. Buc was with me and I did not go off our property and so I did not think having Johnson to come with me was necessary, but I brought my satchel with my pistol in it in case a witless pheasant sauntered into my path, which had happened several times before. When I was walking by the twin oaks just on the other side of the hedge, Mr. Wickham approached me with his usual too smooth manners. I was immediately put on guard because of the time of the day and our well-known rule of not having militia officers visiting Longbourn uninvited. I grabbed my loaded pistol in the satchel which is always primed when I am out. He kept moving closer all the while spewing ungentlemanly diatribe. I kept moving away from him. I was anticipating his attack when he indeed advanced quickly toward me reaching out his arm to grab me. I evaded him and called Buc to my aid. Good Buc immediately jumped at Mr. Wickham's leg and tore into his breeches and would not let go. Mr. Wickham pulled out a knife from his boot to try to stab Buc. I could not allow him to harm my precious Buc and pulled out my pistol and shot at his dagger all while he held it in midair. I have never ever before cocked and aimed my pistol this fast and honestly did not expect the bullet to hit anything since I was in such a fright for Buc! Somehow the bullet found purchase on Mr. Wickham's head and he uttered such a hellish scream that I am convinced he was mortally wounded. I did not wait to find out because I was a coward and ran all the way back to the house with Bucky right next to me. I never would have thought that I would shoot my pistol at a living person, and yet I grabbed the pistol as soon as I felt that he was a threat! I only wanted to use it to defend myself against wild animals and rabid dogs, or to hunt pheasants! I am a murderess!"

"My dear Lizzy, you are not a murderess. You did not try to shoot a person. You only tried to shoot at the dagger that was to harm your faithful hound. If it accidentally hurt Mr. Wickham, the scoundrel deserved it. Why don't you sit here and calm yourself. I will ask Hill to bring you some tea and scones on my way out to investigate how Mr. Wickham dared to come onto Longbourn land and caused such havoc. Would you like Hill to bring your mamma or Jane to come sit with you? "

"Papa, even if Mr. Wickham has not died by my hand, he will still be hanged once he is arrested and tried for the crime! I will still indirectly be a murderess!"

"My dearest Lizzy, you are the most sensible girl in all England. You must be able to see that you are the innocent party in this horrific assault by a scoundrel, and should in no way suffer any consequence," exhorted Mr. Bennet.

Elizabeth was silent for a long moment, and said meekly, "Papa, you are of course right. I will try to reconcile myself with what happened. I think I shall go mend a book. My mind is twirling, and I must do something to distract myself or else I would burn up with anxiety."

"Go, dear. If you choose to mend the last few pages of the Gutenberg Bible, you will present to the estate the finished treasure that will someday be worth half as much as Longbourn. You have not answered me, would you rather have your mamma or Jane sit with you while you wait for my return?"

"Oh, I am sorry that I did not hear you the first time. My mind is still all over the place. I think I would like to know what has happened to Mr. Wickham before telling the rest of the family, or else we shall be worrying together, and mamma's nerves will take a heavy toll. You called me sensible, and yet I behaved hysterically just a few minutes ago. If mamma and Jane were told the incident, I am afraid I would end up being the one to comfort both of them, which I am not up to the task at present. Hopefully by the time you come back with the news, I shall be completely calm. Could you also tell Hill not to tell mamma the state she found me in the hall just now? Oh, also please do not bother Hill with the scones. I do not have any appetite for food, and shall just take some tea from your breakfast tray." answered Elizabeth thoughtfully, much calmer now than just minutes ago.

Mr. Bennet smiled fondly at his daughter, "That is the sensible girl I know and treasure. I will ask Hill not to leak a word about what she has seen this morning, including my going out with Johnson and Wilkes, but to tell your mamma that you are working in the book vault on an important project for me and should not be disturbed. This way it will be your decision when you want to see the rest of the family, or if you need a tray brought in here. I shall be back as soon as possible."

Elizabeth picked up the chatelaine in her father's desk, walked to the far end of the library, and entered a narrow hall that led to an alcove built of stone. This part of the house contained the only remaining rooms of the old manor house built more than four hundred years ago. The stones were hewn and fitted perfectly, and had survived the great fire that destroyed the rest of the house more than two hundred years before. She unlocked the cast iron door at the other end of the alcove and entered a small room filled with natural light filtering in from double-pane glass windows high up toward the ceiling. In this room were many volumes on shelves in glass casing. She moved to the one in the centre of the middle shelve and peered into the glass case. She was about to open the glass case to take out one of the two volumes inside when she hesitated. After a few moments she decided to pick another volume to mend. She did not trust her present agitation to be able to treat the great Gutenberg Bible with the care and respect that it demanded. Besides, in her current mental state, she did not feel that she could read the Latin verses of the Bible as she always read what she was mending. Instead, she donned a pair of clean silk gloves and selected Shakespeare's First Folio, which had been purchased by another Thomas Bennet in 1623 when it was published. While she leaved through the pages and examined the binding of each page, she read all the hand-written notes on the margins left by generations of Bennets, who seemed to be speaking directly to her through the ages. Eventually her tumultuous mind calmed down.

She was very anxious to find out whether she had killed Mr. Wickham, but instead of dwelling on her own culpability in the whole affair as she was doing with her father, her mind somehow latched onto something entirely different - what Mr. Wickham said about Mr. Darcy's purpose of visiting his uncle's estate before Christmas. Mr. Darcy had presented her with every indication - asking her for permission to call on her - that he would favour her with a request for courtship after her family had arrived in town. Why then had he gone to this wife-selection gathering where every young lady was hand-picked by his esteemed uncle and therefore would be far more eligible to be his wife than she in terms of connections and fortune? Her mind became clouded and she stopped her ministration of her book repair in case she might inadvertently damage the pages, which had happened before when she was not fully focused on the task.

She sat there feeling perplexed, and even disappointed. She did not believe that she was in love with Mr. Darcy, for she hardly knew the notion of love other than what she read in all the ancient tomes in the room, Chaucer, the Shakespeare in front of her, and lately some novels. She rather liked the noble and selfless kind of love described in, for example, Chaucer's Dorigen and Arveragus, or the romantic love in the Bard's sonnets, but was bewildered or even embarrassed by the many other forms of love about which she had also read. She was particularly aware that many kinds of love in the antiquity literature inevitably led to carnal activities including those unspeakable ones in ancient Greece. She had peeked at a few of those out of curiosity when she was younger, but was so alarmed that she had since skipped over any explicit description of such activities in her readings because she felt that such private acts even between characters of a story should remain private. Again, she recalled the feeling of being more than a little flushed when Mr. Darcy picked her up close to his chest that morning in Netherfield Park. She thought it was because she was surprised, but now, in this new light, was it a normal physical reaction to desires instead? Should she go back to those skipped passages to find answers?

She had to admit that she was beginning to get used to the idea of having Mr. Darcy as her future husband if she had to marry, and if she were honest with herself, she found that she was curious about, and more importantly, entirely unopposed to that eventuality. But now, her future in that direction seemed improbable with her being embroiled in a potential murder and therefore a colossal scandal even if she was to be acquitted. With this thought, she shook her head and said to herself out loud, "Mr. Darcy may do what he pleases. I am strong and I do not need anyone to take care of me." After another few moments, she continued her musings, this time silently, "That is not strictly true. I do need my father and mother, and all my sisters, especially Jane. My life would be empty without them. But Mr. Darcy? I do not love him as I love my family, although I do enjoy bantering with him, and do feel a little longing when he is absent. Could what Mr. Wickham said be true? He is a scoundrel and is definitely in a scheme to deceive. Well, there is nothing to do now since I shall not be in company with Mr. Darcy until after the New Year if he holds his promise to call upon us. Perhaps by then I shall have completely forgotten such a man ever existed."

Not one made for melancholy, once she had made the decision that she was not in any position to steer the outcome of the current circumstances, be they concerning Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy or herself, her mind was finally at ease, and was able to find small tears in five places in the binding and mend them.

Chapter notes:

1) A pistol in those days needed to be primed and cocked before firing. The cocking part was more involved than just pulling back the hammer. The assassin of the Prime Minister Spencer Perceval in 1812 had his pistols (just seven inches long) primed and cocked on his person while walking around waiting for the Prime Minister to appear. That seems to me too dangerous for Lizzy to do and so that is why hers was just primed and not cocked when she rambled about.

2) The first edition First Folio of Shakespeare published in 1623 was auctioned off for $9.98 million very recently on October 14, 2020. The Mr. Thomas Bennet in the seventeenth century purchased one of about 750 copies printed in 1623.

3) You can read a synopsis of Chaucer's Dorigen and Arveragus in its Wikipedia entry. You could of course read the story itself but be forewarned that Middle English is quite different from modern English, and contains a fair amount of German-derived vocabulary. I read the story many years ago when my German was still adequate.

4) Lord Byron's sensual verses are not included here because he did not become known until the following year in 1812 when his first poem was published.