Chapter thirteen: Silent Reflections
The Bennet sisters ended up spending two additional days and nights at Netherfield. These days – and especially these nights- were marked by intense reflections that impacted its residents and their guests.
Elizabeth was the first to get immersed in deep thoughts. After retiring with Jane for the first night, she served her the treatment Doctor Newt prescribed for her. Then, she went to her room to change into her night clothes. She then had the time to reflect on what happened that evening.
She wondered how on earth did she come to recognize Shakespeare's sonnet. She did not know whether she should rejoice at this, or whether she should be anxious. On the one hand, this meant that she is becoming more and more Elizabeth Bennet. On the other hand, this also meant that she cannot deny that this fusion was confusing, to say the least. However, she dismissed these thoughts in her eagerness to see her resolve through.
After silent reflections, she reaffirmed her resolve in becoming Elizabeth Bennet, as closely as possible. Indubitably, this meant that she needed to cultivate her mind better. She will need to read the works Caroline mentioned. When she will get back at Longbourn, she will spend more time in her father's library to scrupulously study English literature, as well as learn more about history. It would make her more equipped at navigating her current situation.
For now, she decided to take up on Mr. Bingley's offer. She went to the library to fetch something to read. She was wary of reading Shakespeare's sonnets, thinking that they would be far beyond her level, and hence, she settled for retrieving one of his plays. Unbeknownst to her, his plays were equally as challenging, and especially the one she ignorantly retrieved: Macbeth.
She took the book to Jane's room. Slowly, cautious not to wake Jane up, she settled on a chair by the desk and lit up a candle. This way, she can read her book, while also monitoring Jane's condition every now and then. Elizabeth barely made it to Act I, Scene II, when she heard a soft groaning from Jane's bed. She hurried to her side to find her burning with intense fever. In her shock, she hurried to dampen the cloths she prepared in bowl of water, also pre-prepared, and she administered them on Jane's forehead.
Elizabeth did not understand why was this happening. Jane seemed fine this evening, why was she relapsing? She forgot of course about what she thought about earlier; the balance of one's psyche is as equally important. And Jane's psychological condition was suffering from deep turmoil, which Elizabeth did not know about.
For a good quarter of the night, Elizabeth spared no efforts in doting over Jane. She kept changing the cloth every fifteen minutes, as well as murmuring words of comfort and encouragement to her sister. When Jane's condition was stabilized again, she returned to her book. Shamefully, she opened the first page again, because she did not quite process what was happening. There was something about sisters, who were also witches or something. She wished she had a commentated version to make things easier for her. She should have retrieved a dictionary at least. She would have to ask Mr. Bennet to provide her with a dictionary when she gets back to Longbourn.
Exhaustion and frustration finally got the best of her, and she fell asleep on her chair.
Jane had not slept well. Her unease gnawed at her, and it was not due to her illness. Before sleeping, her thoughts had been far from restful. Something -no, many things- felt amiss. As much as she tried to ignore them, the nagging doubts about Elizabeth lingered in the back of her mind.
It was only as the morning light gently filtered into the room that Jane finally let her eyes drift open. She turned her head slowly, the stiffness in her neck served as a reminder of how long she had remained unmoving in bed. To her surprise, she saw Elizabeth, slumped in the chair by her side, peacefully asleep. She vaguely remembered her visions of Elizabeth staying with her the whole night, as she tended to her and spoke words of comfort throughout her care. These were not visions, she realized.
Jane blinked, a surge of affection warmed her heart, pushing away, if only for a moment, the lingering discomfort she had been unable to shake. But that warmth did not entirely dispel the growing sense that something was... different about her sister. Jane did not want to acknowledge it, she did not want to admit that Elizabeth was different, even by memory loss standards. The subtle changes -the flashes of knowledge that Lizzy had never demonstrated before- flickered through her mind. What would she do? What would she say? How was that even possible? Perhaps, she was merely imagining things.
Jane sighed, the warmth completely fading. She was grateful, so terribly grateful, for everything Elizabeth had done for her during her illness. How could she allow herself to question her sister, who had nursed her so diligently and selflessly? Gratitude outweighed doubt. She would let it rest for now. She will have to think about it later. But how could she stop the flow of her thoughts?
She glanced at the book at Elizabeth's hands, and she was overtaken by pity, for her sister, for this woman desperately trying to be her sister. There, she acknowledged it now. But how does acknowledging this even helps? It means that she lost her sister, perhaps forever. However, does this woman needs to be discarded and punished for finding herself in this situation? Jane could not even comprehend how this situation came to be.
Bitterly, she remembered Elizabeth's words after the fall; "I can see that you all care for me. Only an idiot would discard the love you are offering me." This woman did not discard her. How can she push her away now, after being the one who convinced her to give them a chance? Her heart ached for her. Although, she did not understand everything; although she did not understand how the situation came to be, this woman clearly craved love and affection. Her head was buzzing. Sore pain raised to her temples. She was utterly confused, she was engulfed by different emotions at once, grief for losing her sister, gratitude, pity, confusion. It was all too much. She remembered what Elizabeth also said that fateful morning in Netherfield: "Maybe, I will come to love you as the person I am today."
It was clear to her that this woman already loved her, but could she ever feel the same? After painful reflections, she decided to let the matter rest for now.
"Lizzy," Jane whispered softly. Elizabeth stirred at the sound of her voice, her eyes fluttering open, momentarily disoriented.
"Jane?" Elizabeth straightened in the chair, rubbing her eyes. "Oh, you are awake. How do you feel?"
"A little stiff, but much better," Jane replied with a gentle smile. She studied Elizabeth's face, noticing the slight weariness in her sister's eyes. "You stayed with me all night?"
"I suppose I did," Elizabeth admitted, glancing at the window and noticing the morning light. "I did not want to leave you alone."
Jane's heart swelled with affection. "Thank you, Lizzy. You have been so good to me."
Elizabeth gave a small, self-conscious smile but did not reply. Silence settled between them, and Jane chose to let it pass. She was not sure if she wanted to know the answers to the questions lurking in her mind. However, there are way too many things she wanted to say. She could not stop herself from turning back to Elizabeth and saying "Ellie."
"Excuse me?" Elizabeth looked at her bewildered.
"I just remembered what happened with Miss Bingley. How was I never able to think of such an endearing name for you? It sounds rather … charming. Would you protest if I started calling you Ellie?"
"Why? You have always called me Lizzy." Elizabeth's expression was rather curious now.
"Well, yes. I just thought that Ellie sounded adorable. Besides, it would be rather special, if I was the first one to call you that. It will be something only the two of us share." She wondered whether Elizabeth would remember what Jane said last night in her defense; some people from their acquaintances called her sister Ellie. Yet, Jane was contradicting herself now by stating that she would be the first one to call her that. This was lost on Elizabeth. She seemed deeply touched by Jane's first statement: it would be special.
"I suppose it would be fine. It does sound sweet. Does it not?" There was some pride on her face as she said that. Then, she continued, "I would love to have something special with you Jane."
Jane simply nodded, smiling. Then she said, "Oh, and Ellie? You do not need to push yourself too hard." She was glancing at her book. "I am sure that we will all come to love you, as you are right now. You just need to be yourself. Do not allow accounts of … your past-self trouble you. Personally, I embrace the person you are today."
Jane was unaware of the turmoil she had just stirred. She merely noted the unshed tears in Elizabeth's eyes, her face totally overwhelmed with deep affection.
Elizabeth's eyes, Elizabeth's face. She reminded herself, attempting to reconcile this Elizabeth, and her Elizabeth. She still had a long road to walk, before achieving total reconciliation. But for now, she smiled, genuinely.
As the days passed, Charles Bingely did not eschew the whirlpool of turmoil that seemed to engulf everyone. He noted Caroline's growing frustration. He was aware of course of her feelings towards Darcy, and her dreams of becoming Mistress of Pemberley. What became certain to him however, is that her chances in her endeavor were slim to none. He was now sure that Darcy remains untouched by her wishes, if not troubled by them. He wondered how long until Caroline herself realizes this.
Bingley's turmoil however was not confined to this. Even though he was concerned about Jane's health at first, he was secretly happy that she was staying at Netherfield. However, as the days passed, his happiness significantly decreased. While Jane Bennet seemed to regain her health, she seemed rather distant, from him. He was oblivious of Jane's own torment and the weight of emotions that was settling upon her.
He acknowledged his love for her, as well his wishes and aspirations of a growing affection between them. He wondered whether he has misread her character. She seemed interested in him before. At the Meryton Assembly, during the ball he hosted in his mansion, and finally when he dined with her family at their house, she bestowed upon him mesmerizing smiles that captured his heart. She seemed to him as the perfect picture of an angel in human form. However, her stay with them snapped him from his reveries. This night, will be the final night of their visit. Tomorrow, the Bennet sisters will return to Longburn, leaving Bingley to face his potentially shattered hopes.
He will have to ask Darcy what he thinks about this. He always trusted his friend's judgement.
The Netherfield party took the direction of the drawing room after dinner, accompanied by the Bennet sisters who decided to stay with their hosts for their final night. Last night, they chose to stay in Jane's room.
Mr. Bingley, being the gracious host, suggested a conversation on the myths of old Greece. "What do you say we each name our favorite heroes?" The fire crackled warmly in the hearth, as each member discussed their favorite Greek heroes. Elizabeth kept silent. She was still reading Macbeth by Shakespeare. Somehow, the conversation veered towards Greek monsters, and the group kept discussing which myth and which monster terrified them the most. The clink of teacups filled the space as Jane, Mr. Bingley, Miss Binley, Mr. Hurst, and Mr. Darcy continued their discussions.
Louisa Hurst was by Elizabeth side when the latter turned to her and asked her, "Say, Mrs. Hurst, what does 'therewithal' mean?"
Louisa turned to her, smiling, "Show me." Elizabeth was pointing to a word on her book. Even though Louisa did not glance at the cover before, she recognized the play immediately. Again, smiling, she turned to Elizabeth and said "It means 'with all that'". Elizabeth thanked her. She was wondering how did the kind Charles and Louisa have Caroline for a sister?
Speaking of which, Caroline was now mentioning the Greek monster that disgusted her the most. Elizabeth sighed. She had proficient knowledge in Greek mythology, and different other world mythologies and belief systems. She kept silent because she did not know whether this topic would interest Elizabeth Bennet. However, she remembered Jane's advice last morning: "Be yourself. I embrace the person you are today." She could not help following the conversation with some interrst.
"Among all the creatures of Greek mythology," Caroline Bingley began, her voice smooth and calculated, "I think Medusa is the most terrible. To turn a person into stone with just a glance … how horrifying! I shudder to think about it."
Elizabeth set her book down gently. "I think, Miss Bingley, you may be mistaken in your judgment of Medusa."
Caroline's brow arched in surprise, and she turned a sharp gaze toward Elizabeth. "Oh? I cannot imagine how you would see her otherwise, Miss Bennet. Medusa's wickedness is well known."
Elizabeth's lips curved in a faint, thoughtful smile as she leaned forward slightly. "On the contrary, Medusa was not wicked by nature. She was a victim."
The room fell into a curious silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound as the others turned their attention to Elizabeth, waiting for her to continue.
"I beg your pardon?" Caroline blinked successively in her confusion. "A victim? How could a creature as vile as Medusa be considered a victim?"
Elizabeth took a breath. She knew that her perspective on this might be discarded in this era. Her view on the matter was inspired by the French writer Hélène Cixous. The latter wrote a seminal essay called Le rire de Méduse (The Laugh of Medusa), in which she used the symbol of the figure of Medusa as a symbol of female power and liberation. She knew that Caroline Bingley would not know anything about feminism or about the concept of écriture féminine (women's writing).
However, she could not suppress her views on the matter. She turned to Caroline and answered "Medusa's story, as it is commonly told, is a tragedy. She was once a beautiful maiden, serving in Athena's temple, dedicated to purity. It was Poseidon who … seduced her … against her intention in the sanctuary of the goddess." She wanted to say that he defiled her against her will, but she suspected that that would not appeal to the sensibility of the Regency Era.
Elizabeth continued; her tone clear and she was not able to hide how it was tinged with quiet passion. "For this crime, a crime committed against her, it was Medusa who was punished. Athena, furious that her temple had been desecrated, transformed her into the creature we know: the Gorgon, with snakes for hair and the ability to turn men to stone."
Darcy, who had been watching Elizabeth intently, seemed to shift slightly in his seat, his expression unreadable. Charles Bingley and Jane, on the other hand, looked astonished.
Caroline's lips parted in disbelief. "But... but she became a monster! Surely that justifies …"
"A monster by the gods' decree," Elizabeth interjected. "Not by her own doing. She was turned into something she never wanted to be. She was sentenced to be cast out, feared, and hunted, all because of an offense committed against her. Medusa did not choose to become a Gorgon; it was forced upon her."
The room was silent. Elizabeth glanced at each of them, her heart beating a little faster, but she continued. "Medusa was not the villain in her story. She was the victim of a world that punished her for the actions of a man with power. She was used and discarded. And rather than bestowing on her justice for what happened to her, the blame was placed upon her."
Caroline's mouth snapped shut, clearly at a loss for words. Her eyes darted toward Darcy, as if seeking some form of defense, but he remained silent.
Mr. Bingley leaned forward. "I must admit, I had never considered it that way," he said slowly. "But it does seem... terribly unjust."
Elizabeth offered him a grateful smile, glad to have found an ally in her point. She then turned to the others, speaking softly but with conviction. "It is easy to dismiss Medusa as a monster because that is how we have always been told to see her. But if we look deeper, we see a woman who was wronged, a woman who deserved compassion but was instead cast aside."
Caroline's face flushed slightly, clearly unsettled by the turn the conversation had taken. She cast a quick glance at Darcy, but he remained silent, still watching Elizabeth with an unreadable expression.
Finally, Darcy spoke, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "It is a perspective I had not considered," he admitted quietly, his eyes never leaving Elizabeth's. "But there is truth in what you say."
Caroline, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, forced a smile. "Well, I suppose there are many ways to view these ancient stories," she said dismissively, her voice tight. "I am just astonished at how your mind works Miss Eliza. It seems elusive on English literature, a topic your sister claims that you are proficient in. Yet, it seems to retain knowledge about monsters and legends. How … intriguing."
Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat. Did she speak too much? Was Caroline Bingley onto her secret? She was spared from answering when Jane stood up. She curtsied to her hosts and said "Please forgive me, I felt my head spinning for a while. I think that I would be retiring for the night. Sister, would you be so kind as to join me?"
Darcy retired to his room, not long after Elizabeth and her sister went to theirs. He smiled fondly. Medusa, a victim? That is something he never heard before. Leave it to Elizabeth to say the strangest, and yet the most convincing ideas. He wished he could have many conversations with her.
Yet, this would be against his decision. His decision which seemed to be faltering after two sleepless nights. His heart was in a tumultuous state; it wanted to disobey his mind and to rush to Elizabeth. Thus, he spent his nights with his thoughts constantly circling to one thing: Elizabeth. He could not help but think of her dazzling beauty, of her enchanting smile, of her warm kindness, of her fiery spirit, of … He must not. He must stop himself from enumerating her qualities.
If he were to indulge his feelings, he would jeopardize his family's future, his reputation and the weight of responsibility he had carried for so long. He owed his family too much. They stood by him and his sister when they went through the worst. The least thing he could do for them is exercising restraint. His duty was always clear. Since he was but a child, he always believed that he must put his family first.
Darcy sighed, running a hand through his hair. How he wished that she was not the daughter of the Bennet family. How he wished that she did not lose her memory. Maybe then, he would have been able to convince his family of her worth. His heart ached terribly at the thought of never endeavoring to claim hers.
Perhaps when she returned to Longbourn, he would find relief, and these maddening emotions would fade. Yet, when he settled on his pillow that night, he was still smiling. Medusa, a victim not a villain, he repeated.
