Chapter 5: The Suckling Room
I have improved in my ability to be sociable, but I am very cautious about spending any time with people I do not know. Especially when I attended Cambridge, the status, wealth and connections my family had, made others who likely would otherwise have no interest in befriending me, try to include me at first. Indeed, with hindsight and improved understanding, I suspect my father or the Earl (my uncle, brother to my mother) may have even gone so far as to have sons of the men they knew seek me out.
When I began school at Eton, it was confusing. I was accomplished at some things and very deficient at others. I quickly mastered the schedule and routine. When it came to memorization and reciting, I always excelled. When it came to synthesis, explaining how many things came together and creatively interpreting them, I lagged far behind.
But I was most deficient when it came to mastering how to relate to the other boys. My fellow school mates quickly learned that if they smiled when they talked to me that I would believe them to be sincere. At that time, I did not assign any meaning to waggling eyebrows, eye rolls, random snickers and the like. I trusted many times and I was punished for it.
A common prank was for my door key to be stolen from my person and hidden. This happened several times with the key mysteriously appearing in the most unlikely spot (sticking out from a pudding, in the bottom of a chamber pot filled with piss, suspended on a string above a teacher's head). Each time my key disappeared other boys would volunteer to help me search. I thought they were being kind, but it turned out my desperation was a source of amusement to them. They found it funny when I rocked and repeated myself. These were things that I did without conscious volition to calm myself. While a missing key might not be more than an annoyance to other boys (after all, the master of the house had a copy of all the keys and my key would eventually be found), I depended upon order in my life and anything that through that off caused me much anxiety.
It was only after several such incidents that I discovered that Chant, a short boy with black hair and deep brown eyes and one of the boys who was always quickest to come to my aid and occupied the room next door to me, was the very boy who had it stolen my key from me. I only found this out when another boy whispered to me, "Chant took your key."
The next morning, I felt myself most clever when I left my key out having dabbed the edges with ink and after my key predictably disappeared found his thumb and forefinger well stained.
"Give me my key, Chant!" I demanded, explaining, "I caught you black-handed." By this I meant that I had proof of his misdeed which was his black ink-stained hand. I had heard the term red-handed, and my tutor explained the term came from poachers being caught with blood on their hands.
Chant laughed at me. "Darcy does not know anything. Dolt, the term is red-handed!" But he did give me my key back. Forevermore he called me "Mr. Black-Handed" to his friends that always snickered. But he did not take my key after that. In reflecting back on this, I think I earned his respect.
Matters became much worse when I attended university and we were not so strictly regulated. What had been small pranks at school became larger and more troubling schemes. On the worst occasion, when I was engaged to meet some chums at a club for dinner (I had previously supped with them but in the end, I realized they used that previous supper to trick me), I faced my greatest humiliation thus far. I dislike going to places that I have never been before as it is difficult to know what to expect, but I had worked up my courage to go meet Balfour and the others at a club of which he and some of the others were members. We were to be guests for a private dinner and might choose to join the club later. Balfour had said something about an initiation, but I had not paid it much mind as I had no intention of joining.
I took a hackney to the location. As I paid the fare before getting out, the driver told me, "Have a fine time; I wish I had the funds for such indulgences."
At first, I did not know what the place was, in my inexperience I was focusing all my attention on inquiring after the private room they had told me we would be entertaining in. In those days making a simple request of a stranger was terrifying and required that I rehearse the conversation in my head many times and plan on the best way to phrase the request, yet, still, sometimes the words were slow to form when I actually needed them.
I asked, as I had been told, "The Suckling Room, please." The proprietress cackled and informed me, "Sally is available and will take you there." An old woman, dressed in a far too revealing dress, escorted me to a room upstairs.
When she opened the door, I saw that oddly enough instead of a table with my friends, the room was furnished with a bed. I paused uncertain on the threshold. "Come on, dearie," Sally said, somewhat indistinctly, "No need to be shy, I am about to show you all the pleasures a young man can have." She opened her mouth widely in a large "O" and I noted that she had no teeth.
She reached out toward the fall of my breeches with her hand. Before she could touch me, I flinched and then fled as quickly as my feet could carry me, hopelessly confused. Had I somehow misunderstood the address?
As I considered the matter further in the safety of my room, I eventually concluded that the club that I thought I was meeting my chums was a brothel; undoubtedly, they had meant for me to go there. It had all been a joke that they pretended to be my friends. I felt so very stupid then.
The next day at university, I happened upon Balfour and some of the others shortly before my first class. He said in a falsetto, hands clasped as if in prayer, batting his eyelashes, "Oh, Mr. Darcy, do not be afraid, I shall make you a man!" Then they all laughed.
Later, before another class was to begin, I overheard as they discussed the wagers they made about whether I would enter the establishment and how far I would go if I did. Seton said, "Why was I ever foolish enough to take odds that he would allow that grandmother to use her talent on him?" I found the whole matter terribly embarrassing, but said nothing.
That evening I saw George Wickham as I was approaching my room. He smiled and told me, "Well done Bitsy."
That was his nickname for me, which I found abhorrent. When he began taking lessons with me when we were both boys, he had called me "Fitz" as my mother and cousins did. This was still the name he called me in front of my family and the professors but quickly, when there was sport to be had of me, this became "Fitzy" and then finally "Bitsy."
"You made me rich! I knew just what you would do, unlike the rest of that lot. What good fun it was for all of us to spy on you from the adjoining room. The other fellows mostly thought you would figure it out and leave before going to the bedroom and wanted to watch from the balcony, but I knew that would spoil the joke as you would have seen them once you got up the stairs. Luckily, they listened to me and got to see Sally offering you her wares through a crack in the adjoining door. What a good joke it all was and so profitable, too! It is too bad, though, for your sake that you did not allow Sally to show you the pleasures to be had at her mouth."
I felt disgusted and sick to my stomach. I had not realized that they had all seen my humiliation. After that, I began seeing George hanging around with Balfour. Perhaps they had always been friends and I had simply not noticed before.
I learned from this that I could not trust anyone. George had not even been at the initial dinner, yet he had pulled the strings that led to my humiliation. Therefore, I rebuffed all attempts other students made to socialize with me with vigor, while doing my best to use the acceptable language of refusal.
When I was asked to play cards or share spirits, I told them, "I cannot; my father would not approve." This was only a half-truth. He did not approve of gambling or intoxication but would not have begrudged me a friendly game or a little swig, not if it meant I would begin to resemble the son he wanted.
When I was asked to go to the bookstore, I replied, "I have lately been there and have no need to go now." Lately could have been a number of days and I might indeed have desired to go, but simply not with the present company.
When I was asked to share a meal, if it was immediately I always answered, "I do not feel like eating," or "I am not hungry yet"; if it was for a later occasion I always responded, "I regret to tell you, I have already made other arrangements," or "Unfortunately I have another preexisting engagement." No one needed to know that my only regret was having to offer an excuse and that being alone was my preexisting engagement.
Undoubtedly, I should have made another polite excuse as to why I could not dance. However, Bingley always sees right through me, ever since I first let him into my life. He knows I am not really so proud but scared of making a mistake.
