Disclaimer: I do not own any Jane Austen works
Forever and a Day
I'm the unfavoured Bennet sister; that is but common knowledge. That mere word 'unfavoured' can refer to countless features of a girl: appearance, intelligence… in short, all the features that make a girl desirable to a man. Beside Jane, I lack beauty. Beside Lizzy, I lack intelligence and wit. Beside Lydia, I lack the ability to amuse a man. And beside Kitty, I lack the ability to mimic someone to the very last detail, so as to flatter him or her and win his or her patronage. Beside my sisters I am a shadow, a jewel that lacks lustre and is discarded.
Jane has won the heart of eligible Mr. Bingley. Neither acknowledge it, but I can see it in their smiles, in their laughter, in the essence of their very being. When they dance together at the balls, which I am forced to attend, they move as one. When they converse alone, there is a secluded partition around them.
Lizzy has captured the eye of rich and arrogant Mr. Darcy. She does not realise it, and how can she? She is in the midst of it all: too busy laughing, too busy hating. So much emotion in one woman.
Lydia… oh Lydia. She is not outstandingly beautiful, yet she has captured the eye, though perhaps not the hearts, of so many men – although I cannot say they are rich or eligible. How does she do it? She is brash, rude and impetuous, yet there is something in her that amuses these men. There has to be.
Perhaps Kitty understands the most – that is, she understands more than she thinks, and less than she wants to. She, like me, is shunned and pushed to the side, yet she clings on to her younger sister in order to rise in society. I could never sink to such lows.
Then I consider if I do want what my sisters have – young men, friends, laughter. This is a question best left unanswered, although I do find myself pondering it. Nevertheless, I will answer it, and now, lest I lose my nerve. I do want the admiration of young men, young women, older men, older women… mere people in general. Though I pretend that love is not for me, that I will never marry, that I will never surrender my heart, the truth is… I do want it. I want to feel loved, to know that somewhere beyond the dusty tomes in the library there is someone loving me, someone wanting me, someone waiting for me. And yet, I know it can never be so, for I am plain, and possibly even ugly. And so, I sit and I look with disapproval upon everyone who engages in such thoughts. For it is true – for me, such things can never be.
And so I launch myself into other… avenues. I study, I read heavy tomes, I play the pianoforte and I sing. I endeavour to excel in those areas, for I know I can never excel in the subject of Life. Yet even as I endeavour to do my utmost best in my chosen areas, I am still not appreciated. I am still shunned, still put aside, still humiliated. And sometimes… I know that I can never succeed. Not in the truest sense of the word.
But why? That question harangues me regularly. Why is it that Lizzy, who puts so little effort into singing and playing the pianoforte can gather genuine applause from the crowds, while I, I who practice daily, can only gather a meagre ration of polite clapping?
And now that Cousin William Collins has arrived, this feeling of dissatisfaction, this disgruntled feeling has increased. He comes to pick a bride, Mama informed us with considerable satisfaction. I knew in that moment that he would not… could not… pick me. And sure enough, when he first arrived his attention fell instantly on Jane. Mama, however, being her meddlesome self, informed him, again with much satisfaction, that Jane had a wealthy suitor. It is terribly presumptuous of her and I am sure Lizzy does not appreciate her interference the least, for Mr. Collins turned his matrimonial thoughts towards her. The thought almost – almost – made me laugh. Imagine lively Lizzy with dry, stuffy Mr. Collins! it is ludicrousness at it's zenith!
The fact that I can acknowledge that Mr. Collins is dry and stuffy is good in itself. The fact that for one moment, when Mama first announced that he intended to wed one of us, I immediately wished for him to pick me. To pick me! Then the thoughts died away into those of embarrassment and reproach at myself.
Mr. Collins is about to propose to Lizzy. Somehow, I cannot but laugh at her fate – to be badgered by Mama after she refuses – for I have no doubt that she will refuse.
Though Lizzy can afford to reject suitors, I cannot. I cannot stand the thought of living in Longbourne, after my sisters have married and moved away, hearing Mama rhapsodise about my sisters' connection via marriage, then turn her eye to me and sigh.
I cannot stand it.
Yet, I know that is what I am condemned to.
Forever and a day.