Chapter 29 #2
“Very well, I will answer,” she said, clutching at her middle in an old nervous habit hard to dislodge.
“Both cousins advance the theory that I am a mirror. This means I say and do things that force people to look at themselves in ways they are not accustomed to. In the colonel’s case, he relayed some rather nasty gossip to me, and I subtly made it known that I did not appreciate it. ”
Anne laughed gaily and even slapped her knee. “That is hardly shocking. I always suspected his glib tongue would get him into trouble sooner or later.”
“He is not in trouble per se. I did not especially think much of him, good or bad before, and I still do not. I believe whatever disquiet he feels is over his own self-image, which I suspect is not so bright and shiny as he prefers.”
Anne chuckled. “I am happy that someone finally took him down a peg or two. It was long overdue.”
“Long overdue perhaps, but not my job. I suppose I should be vexed, but I am not particularly put out by it. In a family like mine, you become accustomed to such.”
Anne sighed and stopped the horse entirely, which by then had virtually no effect on their progress. The ageing groom went to hold the harness. Elizabeth could not tell if he was diligent or just bored with the pace.
Anne studied Elizabeth carefully.
“I am fascinated by this concept of the mirror, and hope it proves true, which brings me to my other cousin. On Thursday, Darcy came back from a long absence looking like his favourite dog went mad, snatched his second favourite by the neck, and jumped off a cliff, dragging his favourite horse along.”
Elizabeth giggled at the expression. It was the most awkward analogy she had ever heard, but she appreciated Anne learning to tease.
“However, on Friday afternoon, he disappeared once again for some time and came back a changed man. He was not happy per se, or even content, but his manner was much altered. He seemed more reflective, more concerned with the world around him… more concerned with me specifically. I do not mean he formed any new affection, but it was as if the cobwebs had been swept from his eyes, and he belatedly realised that, between us, we had let my mother destroy what should be a close friendship. So, what did the mirror tell him?”
Feeling precariously situated, Elizabeth said, “The mirror told him that he is a good man who spends a great deal of his energy pretending to be a bad one, until the goodness is well hidden—nay, invisible.”
Anne stared in confusion for a moment, then her brow cleared.
“Aha! You must have been subjected to the famous Darcy scowl… and his reticence in company… or possibly his vastly inflated pride… or maybe his reliance on his more amiable friends to help him get by in society when he is too lazy to fend for himself?”
“Some flavour of all of those.”
“That explains his scowls on Thursday. How do you account for his vastly improved demeanour on Friday?”
“That I cannot vouch for, but I suppose I can shed some light. On Friday I infinitesimally improved his chances of getting something he wished for, but only by the tiniest of margins.”
“He told me you were an aficionado of mathematics, and in fact, he suggested I ask of you the favour I shall come to presently. For the moment, let us examine it numerically. How tiny was this improvement in his chances of success?”
“It improved from no chance at all to a very slim chance, perhaps 1/1000.”
“And you consider that a small change,” Anne said with a laugh.
“If you take that number metaphorically, the delta is but 0.1%--almost nothing.”
“Well… Since I shall ask for your expertise soon, let me give you mine on a subject of which I know a great deal. You make a common error in underestimating the change. Hope is not linear. There is as much change from no hope at all to 1/1000 as there would be from 1/1,000,000 to 1/3. There is a vast difference between no hope and some hope. If he has some hope, then everything changes. I am now unsurprised by the change, and I need not even know what it is he is hoping for.”
Elizabeth wondered if she might discover exactly why Anne considered herself such an expert on hope?
“I bow to your superior understanding. While I do not have the experience to comment, it makes perfect sense. It would also explain some other things I observed in our two subjects after that time, so I will provisionally accept your thesis.”
Anne smiled once again, but it soon turned into a frown. “Well then, Darcy suggested a course of action. I would like to ask of you a big favour, which he suggested.”
“I can neither agree nor deny until I know what you ask.”
Anne reached behind the seat, hefted a small valise, and handed it over. “He suggested I ask you to analyse those mathematically. He thinks they will yield significant insights.”
“What are they?”
“My diaries.”
With a ferocious frown, Elizabeth temporised. “I would not presume—”
Not to be outdone, Anne spoke over her. “Do not be concerned with privacy. I have been sick enough for long enough that I abandoned any such silly ideas long ago; though, as I said before, these are my most private thoughts, never before shared with anyone—at least to my knowledge. I would like you to examine them and tell me what you learn.”
“You know there is a better than even chance you already know perfectly well what they contain and are just afraid to face it.”
“Perhaps I know, but I fear I lack the… confidence to believe it. I need… well… Darcy said I need someone outside the box.”
“His chances just went back to nil. I will—”
Anne looked panicked. “No, please, Elizabeth! I beg you, do not take it out on him. He suggested this for my benefit.”
Elizabeth stared at her, her thought storm taking hold with images of strangling the vexing man.
She finally trimmed her sails long enough to master her vexation, and calmed only when she realised she had never actually told him about inside versus outside the box, as she had with Jane’s beau.
Unless he inferred it from the dollhouse, he was just using a metaphor, and she had not exactly invented it.
“It sounds like Mr Darcy is just being lazy.”
Anne continued in a hushed, forced whisper. “I asserted the same thing—vehemently. After that, I advocated for the alternative theories that he was afraid, timid, shy, ungentlemanly, or just a lunkhead.”
“And how did the lunkhead respond?”
“Most annoyingly. He said, “Anne, this is important! Why would you trust an apprentice when the master is readily available?’”
Elizabeth stared hard at her and gulped. “He thinks I am the master.”
“He thought you might say that. He suggested I ask you to complete the phrase ‘Mistress of …’”
Elizabeth let out a long, exasperated groan, but finally relented. “Awkward Conversations. That seems to be my fate in life. I spend most of my time dealing with awkward situations.”
“Will you look at my diaries… please?”
“All right. I return in two days. If you can get this nag back to the parsonage, I will do as you ask, but do not be surprised if you disapprove of what you see in the mirror, or if you find it to be exactly what you expected and you have put me through a spot of bother for nothing.”
Anne’s face lit up like a sunrise, which confused Elizabeth since she seriously doubted she was going to make any real change to the lady’s life. However, she had agreed and did not have anything pressing for the next two days anyway.
Anne got the groom’s attention, and a quarter of an hour later Elizabeth sat in her room with the first diary open, wondering just what she had got herself into.