While I still did not say anything to the Netherfield company, I was all talk and enjoyment when we were returning home in the carriage. Lydia and I spoke about it the entire way home, and it was enough to help me recover from the shameful visit that even I felt mortified over.
“That’s what occurred in your visit?” Mary remarked, quite passionately.
When we returned, she inquired about how the visit was, and Lydia told her the entire thing.
“Yes, it was,” Mama said, standing by the fireplace and warming her hands. “Mr. Bingley was very gentlemanly in every way, and Mr. Darcy was the worst man in England.”
“I’m sure that there are worse men, from what I have read in the newspaper.”
“Mary, what are you even doing reading the newspaper? Men do not like informed women.”
Lydia laughed at this, and I didn’t know what to do. Personally, I never cared for reading the gazettes, but surely, it could not be a detestable quality to all men.
“From what I have studied, I firmly believe that all generalizations cannot have a universal truth to them,” Mary continued, “besides, from what you all describe, I do not believe that Mr. Darcy was trying to give any offense. Rather, it seems like he was merely trying to converse with Elizabeth. I think you were offended, Mama, because you wanted to be offended.”
“Mary! Do not be disrespectful.”
“Yes,” Mary replied, looking back down at her book, and adjusting her spectacles, insecure. “I do not mean to be that way. I just think… perhaps it is not fair to prejudge someone based on the first impression that they have given. We humans have been known to change over the course of time. Maybe Mr. Darcy might learn to change over time, and we are not letting him. Perhaps we should try and present ourselves more properly, and with refinement.”
“Mary, you don’t know what you say. He is a detestable man, and that’s the end of it. Be guided by me. I may not always be clear, but in these matters, I am always right.”
Lydia began to dance around the room. I stood up and joined her. We began to dance the Boulanger.
“And I shall soon be dancing at Netherfield Park! Once Jane is better.”
“And you,” Mary added, wistfully. “Did you really have to insist on Mr. Bingley giving a ball? He is not required to do so, and it would make them believe that here at Longbourn, we don’t know how to ever focus on a serious subject of contemplation. They will think that all we care about are balls and officers. It’s as if we want men like Mr. Darcy to look down on us.”
“Mary!” Mama exclaimed, and this made us all become suddenly very silent. Lydia and I stopped dancing and turned to Mary. “What is the matter with you?”
“Forgive me,” Mary rushed out, “I feel as if I am merely out of spirits today. I don’t know what it is. Forgive me. Forgive me.”
Standing up, she accidentally dropped her book on the floor, picked it up and raced to the door.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Mama, over her shoulder. “I don’t mean to be disobedient. I just wish for us to make a good impression.”
Then she left the room.
“What is wrong with everyone all of a sudden,” Mama said to us, pacing back and forth. “It is as if the whole world has decided to stop making sense.” Mama turned to us and smiled. “Oh well, who cares about anyone else right now? Jane is out of danger and soon she will be well. And we shall be able to dance at Netherfield!” She came up to us and began to dance with us as well. Together we all laughed until Lydia and I fell on the floor.
“They will marry,” Mama said with a merry laugh, sitting down, exhausted “Mr. Bingley will marry Jane, make no mistake. And then we will all be saved. Yes, we will all be saved.”
“What a good joke it would be if I was the first to get married!” Lydia jested.
“Oh, it would be most amusing.”
I said nothing. I was still thinking of Mary.
* * *
Lydia and I had gone down to visit Aunt Philips and we were in for a delight. Captain Carter, Denny, and Sanderson were there, along with a few other officers. Unfortunately, Lieutenant Finlay was in the party. The sight of him made my insecurity rise and I felt immediately agitated. However, Denny was there, and it was only natural that I could talk with him the most and not look as if I were ignoring anyone else.
“I heard about your visits with my fellow officers’ wives,” Denny began. “They have begun to favor you both.”
“They do? I was hoping so, since they keep us from being tedious here.”
Denny laughed. Lydia was on the other side of the room, speaking with Sanderson and Captain Carter. She was enough for both of them.
“But truly,” I continued, “before you all fell into our lives, our provincial days could easily fall into the way of being redundant. Whenever the wives tell us stories, it is as if we are given a burst of new life.”
“But that does not signify the best disposition, does it?” Came a voice from the other side of me. I jumped a bit, then looked up and it was Lieutenant Finlay.
“Lieutenant Finlay,” I gasped, “wherever did you come from? You were not there a minute ago.”
“That is a strange quality of his,” Denny said, amused. “Finlay has a phenomenal habit of sudden appearances. Even on the battlefield, his talent prevails.”
“I’ve been told that I am strangely soft-footed,” Finlay confessed.
“And are an eavesdropper,” I retorted, “the only way that you would know of what we said, was if you were listening.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I was observing, no more than that. And, in returning to what you were speaking of, I find that I do not find such a concept as being wise.”
“What was I saying before?” I asked. “Since you have interrupted, I am lost on the topic.”
“You were speaking of how the arrival of the militia has brought new life to you. I find that I cannot encourage such a way of thinking. But rather, it can be dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” I questioned, surprised. “How so?”
He sat down in a chair that was near us and crossed his legs.
“I refer to the concept of dependency on outward pleasures, and being so in need of them, that it leads to a person never being happy in our own habit. It leads to a person never understanding true emotional independence, because they need something to always stimulate them. They must be constantly entertained, pampered, puffed up, pleasure-bent, and given new horizons to feel complete. If you are always needing outside sources to make you happy, then you will never be happy truly.”
“Finlay, you quite mistake the matter and are too severe on Miss Bennet,” Denny defended me. “She never implied that she was wholly dependent on new pleasures to be complete. She merely was implying that she likes new experiences and meeting new people. That is indeed more refreshing than she being a person who is cold toward strangers.”
“Thank you for understanding me,” I professed, at ease. With Denny’s support, I faced Finlay. “But you are determined to offer advice on me that is really censure. And even more, how could you presume that I was not happy before the officers came?”
“Were you?” Finlay asked, unflinchingly.
“What?”
“Were you happy before we came here?”
I opened my mouth, and then I closed it.
“Well,” I confessed, still not learning how to be anything else but truthful, “I don’t know. In truth, I never thought of it, until now. There was never really any need to think on it, so I guess… yes, I must have been happy.”
“You do not sound certain.”
“Denny!” Captain Carter called. “Lydia does not believe that one time, I put on my boot, and there was a frog inside it. I recall that you were the only witness to my predicament.”
“Yes,” Lydia called, “Denny, come here and prove Captain Carter to not be a liar.”
Denny gave me a look and stood up.
“I shall return very soon, I assure you,” Denny said.
“I am not going to cook her and eat her, Denny,” Finlay said.
“I do not know that, Finlay,” Denny replied, leaving us. I was now left alone with Lieutenant Finlay.
* * *
Finlay and I looked at each other, and the awkwardness was evident.
“Well, if you are going to cook and eat me,” I furthered, “I do not think I would taste very good. So, the joke shall be on your head, in the end.”
“Let us just converse and see how we get on.”
Awkward pause.
“Perhaps we should move toward my sister, since we have nothing to say,” I pointed out, about to stand up.
“You don’t know how to deal with silence, do you?” he asked me suddenly.
“With such a life as mine, there is no such thing as silence,” I responded.
“You are the fourth of five sisters.”
“Ah, you can count.”
“One of my chief talents.”
“I am very sorry for you.”
“Thank you.”
“And yes, due to my large family, silence is not something that I am accustomed to. But do not think I overlooked that you actually insulted me. First, I am glad for my large family. Quite frankly, I do not think silent people are wiser than we who talk a lot. You stare, while we act.”
“You think one balances the other?”
“I never thought of it that way, but yes. So, I do not think people like you are superior to people such as myself. Also, silence is all fine, but not in this case. We are two people who don’t know each other very well. How does silence help us get better acquainted? It doesn’t. Therefore, it serves no earthly purpose, as of this moment.”
“Very well,” he responded, breathing in heavily. “Perhaps you are correct. Yes, well… I admit that I could do better at speaking with ladies. In my defense, I spent so much of my life away from young ladies, that I never knew how to approach them.”
“Why is that? What happened that you were not allowed to know us?”
“Back in Ireland, I began to work on a ship, when I was twelve years old. I spent a great amount of my life in the Navy, before I became an officer in the militia, which I became six years ago.”
“Ireland? Were you born there?”
“Yes, in Limerick, and raised for a time there as well.”
“I can see that your native accent has quite gone away.”
“Not in the slightest,” he replied, with a thick Irish accent returning to him. It made my eyebrow raise.
“But you walk around sounding English.”
“I have national pride, but I also have my profession. Simply put, people are more likely to distinguish good deeds if you sound like them. In my line of work, some people don’t respect foreigners, especially us Irish.”
“Why?” I asked, surprised. My ignorance on the matter clearly unnerved him.
“You really mean that question.”
“I do.”
“You are truly ignorant in the ways of the world.”
“Perhaps so. Of course, I am aware of the strife between our cultures, historically, however, what limitations have you been given now?”
“Many. The prejudice today is still as prevalent as ever. And you are unaware of this?”
“Yes.”
He flinched.
“That is disturbing to know,” he replied.
“Why so?”
“Because you are truly without curiosity on any other matter besides dancing and all the rest of it. I am sure that you do not know of other people’s troubles, because you will not take the trouble to learn about them.”
“You are the worst,” I hissed. “For someone who claims me to be ignorant of such things, you cast a prejudice upon myself, without even taking the time to know me. Lieutenant Finlay, I do not know you, and I am sorry to say, that I have no wish to.”
He stared at me very strikingly, and then he looked at the floor.
“Let us be strangers from now on,” I said, “and that’s the end of it. I will not let you make me hate myself. I won’t.”
Suddenly, Mr. Atkins entered, and I stood up abruptly. My intense movement drew his eye, and I could only imagine what I looked like. Looking back on it, it must have been pleading supplication mingled with imploring pitifulness. He looked at me and my gaze arrested him.
“Mr. Atkins,” Aunt Philips said. “Where is my husband?”
Tearing his eyes away from me unwillingly, he mustered up a reply to his employer’s wife.
“He sent me to inform you that he is having a strange craving.”
“Craving?” Aunt Philips asked, her eyebrow raised. “What craving does he speak of?”
“He wanted me to tell you that he has a great desire for some venison stew for suppertime, and he cannot help but send me along to implore you to have Brenda make some for your first entrée tonight.”
“He really sent you along to tell me this?” Aunt Philips laughed. “Mr. Atkins, sometimes I wonder how you tolerate being a part of our lives.”
“With excessive pleasure,” he responded, “for if Mr. Philips had not ordered me to go, then I would not get the chance to glimpse the Bennet sisters who have come to entertain. I know that Mr. Philips will be upset with me if I linger, but…”
“If he gets upset with you, I will speak with him. Come and join the conversation for five minutes.”
“Mrs. Philips, aside from my mother, you are the greatest woman in England.”
Quickly he greeted Lydia and the officers, and then he headed straight for me.
“Mr. Atkins,” I asserted, sighing a bit as I rushed to him. “It is very good to see you.”
“And I worried that I wouldn’t have the pleasure of you and Miss Lydia coming today,” he said, coming up to me, concerned. Over my shoulder, he looked at his cousin and I turned to Finlay as well. Finlay stood up, his hands placed behind his back.
“Cousin,” he greeted.
I turned to Mr. Atkins, who saw the sad look in my eyes, and, in a blink, he deduced the situation immediately.
“Finlay,” Mr. Atkins responded, bowing his head curtly and giving him a ‘we will speak of this later’ look before he offered me his arm. Eagerly, I took it. “Forgive me, cousin, but I must take Miss Kitty away from you.”
“I understand,” Finlay answered. “She is a popular creature.”
“Her fame is worthy of her. Miss Bennet, come to the window. I have something to speak to you about.”
“With pleasure,” I answered.
Together, we walked to the window. With the sun on my face, I felt the emotion beginning to swim around in my eyes.
“Tell me truly, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Atkins whispered as we stood against the curtains, “do you wish to cry now?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I cannot help it.”
“Is it because of my cousin? Has he said anything to you that is rude? Or callous?”
“Rude, callous, and mean-spirited. I know that he is your family, Mr. Atkins, and I should not slander him—”
“No, none of that,” he dismissed. “I know what he is like. As I told you, our reunion has not been in the way that I had hoped.” He lowered my arm. “I wish to know further of what he really said. If I were to tell your aunt, would you be willing to escort me back to your uncle’s office?”
“Yes. I would like you to know all.”
“Very good.” Without even waiting for him to suggest it, I turned to my aunt.
“Aunt,” I asked, “can I walk with Mr. Atkins back to uncle’s office? He was telling me a funny story.”
“Oh, very well, dear,” Aunt Philips said, “and tell your uncle that there will be venison stew tonight.”
“He will love that.”
Arm in arm, Mr. Atkins led me out of the room. Despite my better judgment, I looked at Finlay out of the corner of my eye and saw that he was watching us leave, most intently.
* * *
Once we were out of the room, I told Mr. Atkins everything. By the time that I finished my narration, we had reached Uncle Philips’s study’s door.
“You must ignore his remarks,” Mr. Atkins assured me. “He seems to forget that you have been raised in a quiet provincial town, far removed from the larger life that he has led. Also, he is a man who has suffered under prejudice and disappointment. I cannot tell you everything, because these are the tales that we men often tell other men, or our wives—if we have them. But I think his large acquaintance with the biased ways of the world has led to his general good nature becoming biased in turn—or bitter in turn. Whatever word that can be used to describe what happens to a person when life has ruined their ideals and left them broken.”
“I am sorry if the world has hurt him, but I haven’t,” I urged.
“I know that you haven’t. It is unfair that he does place you in such a light. I am merely explaining his nature so that you never allow him the power to make you cry. He is not worth your pain.”
I gave him a sad smile.
“Mr. Atkins, why can’t he be like you?” I asked.
“He is a warrior—I’m a clerk.”
I laughed, and my noise interrupted my uncle. Hearing my voice, he opened the door and Mr. Atkins and I started.
“Ah,” Uncle Philips noted, “so, Kitty, you are the distraction that has waylaid my clerk.”
“Yes, it is me,” I responded, “but we bring good tidings. Aunt Philips says that there will be venison stew tonight.”
His face split into a big grin. “And that is the good news that saves us all, and unless you are too unwilling to help your uncle, I can put you to work.”
He moved aside so that we both could enter his study.
“What can I do?” I asked, skeptical. After all, I knew nothing about soliciting.
“Your task will be hardest. Mr. Atkins has separated all my letters between ones of leisure and ones of business. He shall read the ones of business, and you can read the ones of leisure. When you finish, tell me which ones are invitations and such and what.”
“I can do that! But Aunt will wonder where I am. And so will Lydia.”
“I’ll send a servant to tell them.”
“Then I would love to help.”
Despite loving to be in Denny, Carter’s and Sanderson’s company, this was precisely what I needed. Sitting in the corner, by the window, I took the letters in my lap and began to read. Usually, I do not care for any sort of occupation like this, but for the moment, it was very diverting and gave me a bit of inner purpose.
I was of use somewhere.
We all need to feel that every now and again.
“Before you begin,” Uncle Philips asked me as he was writing something, “I have heard news through the grapevine.”
“What news?” I asked.
“I have heard that Elizabeth walked three miles to Netherfield Park to be with Jane.”
“Yes, she did.”
“Really?” Mr. Atkins laughed. “Ah, that sister of yours. Miss Elizabeth will always amaze me, for she always manages to make herself into quite the astonishingly entertaining adventuress.”
“Oh,” I groaned.
“What?”
“It is not fair, that is all,” I remarked. “Every one of my sisters has a label, except for me. Jane is the Beautiful One. Elizabeth is the interesting one, who is now the Charming Adventuress. Mary is the Accomplished Student. Lydia is the Lively Youngest One. And where does that leave me? I thought that I was the one who brought the news, but I don’t have that to my credit. Oh spite, oh hell!”
This made Uncle and Mr. Atkins laugh.
“Did you just quote Helena from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’?” Uncle Philips asked me.
“It’s the only Shakespeare quote that I know,” I admitted. “And I think it describes my feelings quite well. Oh spite! Oh hell!”
“Do not say the word too often, my dear, for it shall not be ladylike. Either way, I love Jane, for she is an excellent creature. But for my part, I never looked on you, Lydia, and Elizabeth as being any less lovely. Maybe it’s an uncle’s partiality, I am sure that I do not know. Or maybe it’s because I am older now. When you age, your concept of beauty widens significantly—which is one of the few attributes to older age.”
“Perhaps my familiarity with your family does not do credit to me being clearsighted either,” Mr. Atkins said, lowering a letter and leaning back in his chair, “but I do not believe so. I think my comfortable acquaintance with the five of you makes me believe, Mr. Philips, that your point of view has nothing to do with bias. And regarding manners, Miss Bennet may be a superior creature to many, but not everyone is looking for such a woman. Many men like young women who are lively, eager to partake in the joys of life, and who are human—not all men fear the flaws in a woman, because they have a more realistic view of the fairer sex than conduct books present. Your disposition suits many people.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
I smiled. Inside my chest, my heart lightened.
“Well, that is lovely to hear.” Uncle Philips leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen against the table, contemplating something.
“What is that look for, Uncle?” I asked.
“It is just something that I think of from time to time. It is about Mary. Sometimes I think that Mary would also be lovely, but she despises whatever natural charms that she could possess, and so must be written down as being plain.”
“I have also noted a pleasantness to her features that gets oppressed by her serious demeanor,” Mr. Atkins noted. “But that suits her, so maybe it might lead to her finding her own sort of charm in the end. Whoever knows?”
“I do,” Uncle Philips replied. “Many women can easily find more beauty in their twenties than in their teens. With age comes self-confidence. Self-confidence can add luster to a woman’s complexion, for all that the world says of old maids. Mary might come into her own right at the very time that the world says she is too old to have it. That there is irony for you.”
“Well,” I finalized, bitter, “since Mary has stopped confiding in me as a sister long ago, I may never know.”
“Yes, I noticed that as well,” Uncle Philips said, continuing to write. “When growing up, you and Mary were very close. Thick as thieves, you were. And Lydia was always trailing after you both. Then when Mary discovered her studious side, everything changed.”
“She gave me up for her studies. That’s all there is to it.”
“Are you upset at her over that?” Mr. Atkins asked me softly.
“Yes,” I answered simply.
“An honest answer. Very interesting.”
I continued reading the invitations and was on the point of agreeing to write back my uncle’s replies when Lydia came to take me home.
* * *
When we had returned, it was to hear more of the same. Mary was reading and practicing on the pianoforte most of the time, and Mama was dreaming away about what Mr. Bingley and Jane were talking about. And Father was mostly in his study, until it was time for dinner.
After we all were released for bed, I sat down and wrote the day’s events in my diary. At the conclusion of my entry, my mind wandered over to Lieutenant Finlay. I smiled at the thought that Mr. Atkins was going to say something to him and wrote down my expectations:
When Mr. Atkins speaks with him, I long to hear him give his cousin a proper set down. That horrid cousin of his has no more right to sit in my aunt and uncle’s parlor than an ape in a china closet.
Mr. Atkins is correct. I should not care for him, but it is not easy. We all can tell ourselves the best advice, but it is not always easy to follow it. I am this way now. I can’t help but remember his words. He called me ignorant of the world’s views, histories, and attitudes. But why did I have to be? After all, if gaining a wider acquaintance with the ways of the world meant that I had to be unpleasant, judgmental, and jaded under the world’s desire to always lean toward some prejudice or another, then maybe I was the better for my ignorance. Yes, I did not have to listen to Finlay.
For the more I think on it, the world outside of Hertfordshire seems to always be on the verge of rationalizing some form of snobbish belief.
I’ve heard rumors of some who are cruel to the idea of foreigners and make constant remarks of their inferiority to their culture.
Others find a reason to despise each other for theological differences. Others enslave others.
But here, in Hertfordshire, we are safe from all of that—until the outside world decides to come in and bring its sordid ideas with it. The outside world taints the beauty of Hertfordshire.
If that is the case, then I prefer my ignorance. For I have learned that we people can either be intelligent or we can be pleasant. I prefer to be pleasant.
I didn’t know what Finlay had undergone, because, here in Hertfordshire, we were removed from the worst of the ways of the world. Here, life was a little bit of a fairytale.
So, this is me.
Oh spite! Oh hell!