Conceit and Contemptousness Chapter Thirteen, an icarly fanfic

Disclaimer: I thought I might as well get this out of the way. Most of this chapter belongs to the brilliant Jane Austen. And the story at the bottom, I have no idea who that belongs to, but it is most certainly not me.

Author's Note: Well, I'm back. Keep reading and reviewing and I'll keep writing.

Conceit and Contemptuousness

Chapter Thirteen

The next morning I wandered on a gravel path through the woods near Shane's house, trying to clear my head. I still could not believe that Sam, of all people, had proposed to me in such an insolent manner. Why, it was preposterous.

As these thoughts crowded my brain and the gravel crunched beneath my shoes I nearly ran into her. She stood proud and tall, though she appeared slightly affected by our conversation last night. She had an envelope in her hand.

"Mr. Bennet, I have been walking this path trying to find you. Please read this." She handed me the paper and continued walking in the opposite direction. The paper was still warm from the printer. I placed the letter in my shirtpocket and strolled forward, attempting to forget about it. Curiosity soon got the best of me and I stopped and sat on a tree trunk.

"Be not alarmed, sir, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which last night were so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes, which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten; and the effort which the formation, and the perusal of this letter must occasion, should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice.

Two offences of a very different nature, and by no means of equal magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was, that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached Miss Bingley from your brother,--and the other, that I had, in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined th immediate prosperity, and blasted the prospects of Miss Wickham—willfully and wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged favourite of my father, a young man who had scarcely had any other dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect its exertion, would be a depravity, to which the seperation of two young persons, whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks, could bear no comparison. But from the severity of that blame which was last night so liberally bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope to be in future secured, when the following account of my actions and their motives have been read. If, in the explanation of them which is due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry. The necessity must be obeyed—and farther apology would be absurd.

I had not been long in Seattle, before I saw, in common with others, that Carly preferred your eldest brother, to any other young man in the city. But it was not until the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of her feeling a serious attatchment. I had often seen her in love before. At that ball, while I had the honour of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas's accidental information, that Carly's attentions to your brother had given rise to the general expectation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend's behavior attentively; and I could then percieve that her partiality for John was beyond what I had ever witnessed in her. Your brother I also watched. His look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced from the evening's scrutiny, that though he received her attentions with pleasure, he did not invite them by any participation of sentiment. If you have not been mistaken here, I must have been in an error. Your superior knowledge of your brother makes the latter probable. If it be so, if I have been misled by such an error to inflict pain on him, your resentment is not unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert, that the serenity of your brother's countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable his temper, his heart was not likely to be easily touched. That I was desirous of believing him indifferent is certain—but I will venture to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes and fears. I did not believe him to be indifferent because I wished it; I believe it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason. My objections to the marriage were not merely those which I last night acknowledged to have required the utmost force of passion to put aside, in my own case; the want of connection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me. But there were other causes of repugnance; causes which, though still existing, and existing to an equal degree in both instances, I had myself endeavored to forget because they were not immediately before me. These causes must be stated, though briefly. The situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformally betrayed by herself, by your three younger brothers, and occasionally even by your father. Pardon me. It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that, to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure, is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your eldest brother, that it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both. I will only say farther that from what passed that evening my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement heightened which could have led me before to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection. He left Netherfield for Olympia the next day, as you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning.

The part which I acted is now to be explained. Her brother's uneasiness had been equally excited with my own; our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered, and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in detatching his sister, we shortly resolved on joining her directly in London. We accordingly went—and there I readily engaged in the office of pointing out to my friend the certain evils of such a choice. I described and enforced them earnestly. But, however this remonstrance might have staggered or delayed her determination, I do not suppose that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage; had it not been seconded by the assurance which I hesitated not in giving, of your brother's indifference. She had before believed him to return her affection with sincere, if not equal regard. But Carly has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgement than her own. To convince her, therefore, that she had decieved herself, was no difficult point. To persuade her against returning to Seattle, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having done thus much. There is but one one part of my conduct in the whole affair on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is, that I condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from her your brother's being in Olympia. I knew it myself, as it was known to Mr. Bingley, but his sister is even yet ignorant of it. They might have met without ill consequence is perhaps probable; but her regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for her to see him without some danger. Perhaps this concealment, this disguise was beneath me; it is done, however, and it was done for the best. On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your brother's feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learned to condemn them.

With respect to that other, more weighty accusation, of having injured Miss Wickham, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of her connection with my family. Of what she has particularly accused me I am ignorant; but of the truth I shall relate, I can summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity.

Miss Wickham is the daughter of a very respectable man, who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates, and whose good conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my mother to be of service to him; and on Valerie Wickham, who was her goddaughter, her kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My mother supported her at school, and afterwards at the University of Washington—most important assistance, as her own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give her a gentlewoman's education. My mother was not only fond of this young woman's society, whose manners were always engaging; she had also the highest opinion of her, and hoping that mathematics would be her profession, intended to provide for her in it. As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to think of her in a very different manner. The viscious propensities—the want of principle, which she was careful to guard from the knowledge of her best friend, could not escape the observation of a young woman nearly the same age with herself, and who had opportunities of seeing her in unguarded moments, which Mrs. Darcy could not have. Here again I shall give you pain—to what degree you only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Miss Wickham has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from unfolding her real character—it adds even another motive.

My excellent mother died about five years ago; and her attachment to Miss Wickham was to the last so steady; that in her will she particularly recommended it to me, to promote her advancement in the best manner that her profession might allow—and if she took orders, desired that a valuable family living might be hers as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy of one thousand pounds. Her own parents did not long survive mine, and withing half a year from these events Miss Wickham wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders, she hoped I should not think it unreasonable for her to expect some more immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment, by which she could not be benefitted. She had some intention, she added, of studying law, and I must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would be a very insufficient support therein. I rather wished, than believed her to be sincere—but, at any rate, was ready to accede her proposal. I knew that Miss Wickham ought not to be a mathematician; the business was therefore soon settled—she resigned all claim to assistance in the university, were it possible that she could ever be in a situation to receive it, and accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connection between us seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of her to invite her to Pemberley, or admit her society in Olympia. In Olympia I believe she chiefly lived, but her studying law was a mere pretence, and being now free from all restraint, her life was a life of idleness and dissipation. For about three years I heard little of her; but on the decease of the incumbent of the living which had been designed for her, she applied to me again by letter for the presentation. Her circumstances, she assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. She had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained, if I would present her to the living in question—of which she trusted there could be little doubt, as she was well assured that I had no other person to provide for, and I could not have forgotten my revered mother's intentions. You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every repetition to it. Her resentment was in proportion to the distress of her circumstances—and she was doubtless as violent in her abuse of me to others as in her reproaches to myself. After this period every appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How she lived I know not. But last summer she was again most painfully obtruded on my notice.

I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy. My brother, who is more than five years my junior, was left to the guardianship of my father's neice, Colonel Wendy, and myself. About a year agon, he was take from school, and an establishment formed for him in London; and last summer he went with the man who presided over it, to Ramsgate; and thither also went Miss Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between her and Mr. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily decieved; and by his connivance and aid, she so far recommended herself to George (whom we affectionatley refer to as Gibby), whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of her kindness to him as a child, that he was persuaded to believe himself in love, and to consent to an elopement. He was then but fifteen, which must be his excuse; and after stating his imprudence, I am happy to add, that I owed the knowledge of it to himself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement, and then Gibby, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending sister whom she almost looked up to as a mother, acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine how I felt and how I acted. Regard for my brother's credit and feelings prevented any public exposure, but I wrote to Miss Wickham, who left the place immediately, and Mr. Younge was of course removed from his charge. Miss Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my brother's fortune, which is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging herself on me was a strong inducement. Her revenge would have been complete indeed.

This, sir, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Miss Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood she had imposed on you; but her success is not perhaps to be wondered at, ignorant as you previously were of everything concerning either. Detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination.

You may possibly wonder why all this was not told you last night, but I was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought to be revealed. For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Wendy, who, from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and, still more, as one of the exectutors of my mother's will, has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorence of me should make my assertations valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be the possibility of consulting her, I shall endeavor to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the morning. I will only add, God bless you.

Samantha Darcy

PS: In the course of writing this extremely long letter, I became depressed by recounting the events expressed herein. So, for your own amusment, and my own, I shall include a story told to me by my dear brother Gibby.

Strawberry

There once was a little kid who was attacked by a bully on the playground. The bully beat him to a pulp, stole his lunch money and called him a strawberry. The kid was confused so he asked him what a strawberry was, and the bully ran away crying and screaming.

This only confused the kid more, so when recess was over he said to his teacher, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. So, what's a strawberry?"

The teacher gasped and said, "That's it, young man. You're going to the principal's office!"

So the little boy went to the Principal's office. The Principal asked him, "Why are you here today?"

The kid answered with, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. So I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me here. So, what's a strawberry?"

The principal gasped and said, "Young man, call your mother and explain why you are in trouble."

So the little boy called his mother at home, who asked him, "Why are you calling me at home from the principal's office?"

The boy's mother gasped and said, "Young man, when you get home you're going to talk to your father about this."

So the little boy went to his house and waited until his father got home. His father asked him, "What did your mother want you to talk to me about?"

The little boy replied, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me to the principal's office. I asked the principal what a strawberry was and she told me to call mom. I asked mom and she told me to talk toy you. So, what's a strawberry?"

The boy's father gasped and disowned him.

So the little boy left to live on the streets. Sometime later a cop stopped by the little boy and asked him, "What did you do to get here?"

The little boy responded, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me to the principal's office. I asked the principal what a strawberry was and she told me to call my mother. I asked my mother what a strawberry was and she said I had to talk to my dad. I asked my dad what a strawberry was and he disowned me. So, what's a strawberry?"

The cop gasped and said, "We'll see what the judge has to say about that," and arrested the boy.

So, the boy was placed on trial before the judge. The judge asked him, "Why are you on trial here today?"

The boy said, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me to the principal's office. I asked the principal what a strawberry was and she told me to call my mother. I asked my mother what a strawberry was and she said I had to talk to my dad. I asked my dad what a strawberry was and he disowned me. I asked the cop I met on the streets what a strawberry was and he arrested me. So, what's a strawberry?"

The judge gasped and said, "You're sentanced to seven years in jail!"

So the little boy went off to jail. His cellmate asked him, "What did you do to get in here?"

The boy answered, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me to the principal's office. I asked the principal what a strawberry was and she told me to call my mother. I asked my mother what a strawberry was and she said I had to talk to my dad. I asked my dad what a strawberry was and he disowned me. I asked the cop I met on the streets what a strawberry was and he arrested me. I asked the judge what a strawberry was and he had me sentenced to seven years in jail. So, what's a strawberry?"

His cellmate gasped and was so upset that he started a prison riot. A guard came over to break up the fight and asked the boy, "What caused this riot?"

The little boy answered, "Well, I was playing on the playground at recess when I was attacked by a bully, who proceeded to beat me to a pulp, steal my lunch money, and call me a strawberry. I asked him what a strawberry was and he ran away screaming and crying. I asked my teacher what a strawberry was and she sent me to the principal's office. I asked the principal what a strawberry was and she told me to call my mother. I asked my mother what a strawberry was and she said I had to talk to my dad. I asked my dad what a strawberry was and he disowned me. I asked the cop I met on the streets what a strawberry was and he arrested me. I asked the judge what a strawberry was and he had me sentenced to seven years in jail. I asked my cellmate what a strawberry was and he started the prison riot. So, what's a strawberry?"

The prison guard gasped and said, "Mister, you've just earned yourself thirty more years!"

37 years later the boy, now a man, was a free man. He walked out the door and began to cross the street. He was immediately hit by a bus and killed.

And the moral of the story is: look both ways before crossing the street.