Yet Another Five Minutes Later
He finally looked up. And glared again. Completely uncalled for his glaring at me.
While it is very possible my smile looks like something one would see on a caricature from a gallows broadsheet, it is still a smile.
The appropriate response to a smile is a return smile.
Even more appropriate would be some manner of pleasant comment.
"Kleist is brilliant. Have you read Michael Kohlhaas?
I will lend it to you after I am finished. "
Is that really so difficult? Just a little comment. It would not have to be a conversation. Heaven forbid.
At the very least he could give me a, "Please stop, you're frightening me," so I would know I had accomplished something in the last quarter of an hour.
I realize I should not expect him to give me anything. He has already rescued my reputation by deigning to marry me. Perhaps that is why I am so annoyed with him. I must be grateful to him.
And I am grateful. Of course I am. But gratitude does not seem a good foundation for a marriage.
It would seem the one who had inspired the gratitude must forever suspect any affection on the part of the one whom the aid was bestowed upon, never knowing whether the feelings were inspired by actual admiration or thankfulness.
However, I suppose it cannot matter as Mr. Darcy does not seem interested in inspiring any kind of feeling. To him a wife is just another person to be glared at.
Well, fine. If he is determined to be unpleasant I am done smiling at him. My face hurts anyway.