Chapter 27
Reflections
Once they had passed the small muddy obstacle, such as it was, Darcy said, “I must make a confession.”
“If you must.”
“I discussed my plight with my cousin. I know you have every reason to believe him a gossip, and perhaps not all that clever; but he can be silent as the grave when called for, and he has a keen strategic sense when he puts his mind to it. He will not break your confidence. We grew up together; he is closer to a brother than a cousin, while I am closer to him than his own flesh and blood. I should not have, but I needed someone intelligent to help me think through the matter.”
Anger stirred, and it took some effort to calm herself and think rationally. The answer, when it came, seemed so obvious she wanted to berate herself.
“I discussed at least the principal points of our evening with Mary, so I can hardly complain about your need for a confidant. Tell me, if you are of a mind, what did your cousin think?”
“Before or after he stopped laughing at me?”
Elizabeth appreciated the attempt at humour; he was as terrible a liar as she was, but she appreciated the attempt.
“You choose.”
“He says you are a mirror.”
Perplexed, she asked, “How so?”
“He says you are a mirror because you show people their true selves. He spoke to you and came away with the understanding that he could well be a hurtful gossip, because he is so gregarious, finds conversation so essential, and does not always think through what he says.”
“I could excuse the gossip, but I deplore the stupidity of failing to put the pieces together and work out that I almost certainly knew the woman he was talking about. Something tells me you are not finished, though.”
Elizabeth smiled and squeezed his arm, which was actually rather… nice.
“I am about a third of the way through, or 33.333% if you prefer. Fitzwilliam had another example I will come to presently, but let me first discuss the second third. At the Netherfield ball, I met your cousin, the most obnoxious mixture of servility and self-importance I ever had the displeasure of meeting. The man I met here a few weeks ago could hardly be recognised. I assert that your brother is the true Mr Collins, and the man I met at the ball was the man before being exposed to the Elizabeth Bennet Mirror. Dare you contradict me?”
Elizabeth stared. “You give me credit that is not due. My cousin was transformed by his acquaintance with his wife—not me.”
“I see, I see! I must have been misinformed. I understood he favoured you first and may even have acted on it.”
Elizabeth grew embarrassed, so the gentleman relented.
“Peace, Miss Elizabeth. I was trying to tease, something I have no skill at. Is it possible that your awkward conversation played a significant part in his stunning transformation?”
“We will never know. I did intervene, and he quickly reverted to his true nature. Whether I had anything to do with it, I cannot say.”
“But you cannot say you did not have the effect.”
“I suppose not. Negative theses can rarely be proven[xviii]. Shall we move on to the last third? I cannot imagine you saved the easiest for last.”
“Not by half. When Fitzwilliam warmed to his subject, he told me you reflected that I was immersed in the fullest belief of my arrogance, my conceit, and my selfish disdain of the feelings of others.”
“I wish you would not say things like that! I did no such thing.”
He dragged them to a stop, and stepped before her, granting her a clear view of his face, which her bonnet had made difficult, and stared at her.
“Miss Mathematician, here is your chance to disprove him using the Scientific Method[xix]. Find a single instance of behaviour, that you witnessed yourself, which disproves his theory. I know you received good reports from my aunt’s tenants, but I could perfectly well be amiable to them out of duty, or more likely, because it is to my advantage to keep them happy.
I can be amiable with my peers, but that could be just because it is the easiest thing to do. ”
She reluctantly agreed.
“So, Miss Scientist, present me some evidence—not feelings, not speculation, evidence—that disproves my cousin.”
Elizabeth stared at him in consternation while every interaction raced through her mind; at last, she had to admit defeat. “I cannot offer you such evidence, save perhaps the Meryton assembly, but I still believe your cousin overstates the case.”
The gentleman began to notice signs in the lady he had never paid attention to. Her demeanour showed restlessness, so he stepped beside her and offered his arm. She took it without qualms and practically pulled him along.
He followed her pace for 50-60 steps before he broke the silence. “Would you care to hear my cousin’s description of me?”
“I thought I just did,” Elizabeth said, perplexed.
“No, that was what the mirror showed that I should be thinking about myself, not what my cousin thinks of me.”
“I am all fascination. Before we diverge, though, are you convinced of your cousin’s assessment that I am a mirror?”
“I am. I have a few more examples, sufficient to convince me.”
“Perhaps I am one of those mirrors that distorts and magnifies certain aspects.”
“If you would have it so.”
“What did your cousin think you are, if I may ask?”
Darcy chuckled. “A certain amount of brandy preceded his assessment, but in the end, he decided I am a statue.”
“A statue?” Elizabeth laughed. “I can see his point, I suppose. What was his reasoning?”
“He asserted I am a reasonably handsome man—”
“Very handsome!” The words escaped Elizabeth without thought. Heat rushed into her face, and she fixed her eyes on the path while he chuckled and continued.
“He also said I naturally prefer to spend my time on my pedestal being admired rather than mixing with mere mortals.”
Elizabeth started to speak, but he forestalled her. “Do not disagree, Miss Mirror, unless you can present evidence.”
She fumed for a moment, but eventually admitted defeat with a shake of her head.
“He says that, just like a statue, people stare at what I appear to be, not what I am. The statue appears to stand for all that is noble and great and beautiful in the human experience, but underneath, it is just a rock. A rock carved into a statue becomes something new, but a statue’s subject is often misrepresented.
The great general who won the battle gets a statue, though he spent twice the lives it should have required, or the battle was not worth fighting in the first place, or the spoils were lost a year or two later.
There are statues in London for great men whose greatness was nothing but support for slavery or some other injustice. ”
“I suppose statues try to show an image of something great, but I do not see how this applies to you.”
“It applies perfectly well. When I slighted you at that assembly, I did not want to be there mixing with people of no importance in the world. I saw no beauty, no grace, no fashion—need I continue?”
Tears came to Elizabeth’s eyes, but her basic honesty forbade any answer other than a nod.
Her distress must have shown, for the gentleman continued. “Of course, he also may have mentioned that a statue that is not taken care of, revered, cleaned, and so forth eventually ends up just a rock covered in bird dung.”
A most satisfying laugh escaped her, though she remained much like a seesaw.
“Who would have thought? A mirror and a statue.”