Chapter 33
Frogs and Pots
“I believe so. Do you want analysis or recommendation?”
“Recommendation,” Anne replied quickly, and Lady Catherine considered it for some time before she agreed.
“In the end, I believe you suffer from the boiling frog problem[xxii]. You both rely too much on status quo, and suffer a lack of—how shall I say it?—decisiveness. There is an old fable that serves as a metaphor, though it is probably scientifically incorrect.”
“Go on,” Lady Catherine said.
“Legend says if you throw a frog into hot water, it will jump straight out. However, if you put one in a pot of cool water and heat it gradually, the frog will eventually be boiled alive. It does not react to the alteration in its circumstances, because the danger comes too gradually for it to notice.”
Elizabeth waited as patiently as she could.
Finally, Lady Catherine said, “This is what you mean by lack of decisiveness?”
“Correct! Anne never achieves true happiness because she has grown accustomed to feeling mediocre. To be honest, ill health, or at least the impression of it, offers certain benefits.”
Anne shook her head vigorously, but at least the thought had been spoken aloud.
“You suggest Anne and I are in the pot together?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Elizabeth’s glance passed from mother to daughter.
The moment had come. “I presume to kick the pot off the fire.”
Lady Catherine raised her eyebrows. “How do you plan to do that?”
“Change is opportunity. Kick the pot over, and the frogs may find their original pond nearby, or make their own way to a better one. That is what I recommend.”
“Explain how you plan to kick this mythical pot over.”
Elizabeth leaned over the table. “Before I do, I ask you to trust me and agree to my terms in advance.”
Lady Catherine looked affronted; Anne frowned; Elizabeth waited.
“That seems presumptuous.”
“More than.”
“Do you plan to kick us out of the pot and into the fire or a desert?”
“No, my lady. I plan to kick the pot over into a nearby stream that runs to all the best lakes in the world.”
Lady Catherine laughed, a sound not often heard at Rosings. “I can say one thing. You can certainly beat a metaphor to death. How long will this stream run?”
“6 months or more.”
“And if I demur?”
Elizabeth shrugged and retrieved her watch. “You can set your watch by my uncle’s coachman. He will be here in 23 minutes, and in 25, I shall be in his coach going north, regardless.”
Lady Catherine laughed. “Ah, I see you use fixed schedules to prevent dithering. That explains the timing of this meeting.”
Elizabeth was startled, but Lady Catherine said, “Peace. I did not say it was a bad thing. I quite like it. Very well, I shall put you to the proof. Anne, do you agree?”
Anne nodded, wondering what could possibly be resolved in 23 minutes.
Elizabeth smiled and picked up the second valise. “Stand up, Anne. It is fortunate we have no footmen here.”
Anne obeyed. To Elizabeth, she seemed almost formed to follow just about any instruction spoken forcefully enough—a habit that needed to end.
“The problem is that you are comfortable in your little hot pot. You are both afraid to acknowledge that nothing is wrong with Anne save laziness. She plays no instrument, supposedly due to her health. I play well enough—a skill I developed while I was not yet 16 and my QOL was 30-40; yet in a decade, Anne has not learnt to play a single note. She was never presented and never enjoyed a season, also supposedly because she is unhealthy and you are afraid; yet she is robust enough. You are just afraid to leave the pot.”
Elizabeth carried the valise to a small table and beckoned Anne to join her, officiously snapping, “Over here, please.”
Anne hesitated, but complied reluctantly.
“Here is how we shall kick the pot.”
She extracted a dress from the valise. “Turn around.”
Anne turned, and Elizabeth started unbuttoning her gown, an action requiring a certain amount of hand slapping.
“You will come to Hertfordshire and become a Bennet ward for 6 months. My father’s household has gone from 6 females to 5, so you will redress the balance.
You will learn a few accomplishments, attend local assemblies, walk with me until you gain some strength, and—to be honest—you must learn to live.
You need new horizons, Anne de Bourgh, and I intend to point you in the general direction and kick you from the nest.”
Elizabeth unfastened the last button. “Do not be embarrassed to undress in front of your mother. Sisters do that all the time, and you are going to experience as close to sisterhood as we can contrive. Put on this travelling dress, as yours is entirely too fine for Longbourn, not to mention being half a decade out of fashion. You will exchange jewellery as well. Hurry, hurry, hurry! We have 17 minutes.”
Anne stared in confusion, so Elizabeth clapped her hands loudly. “16 minutes, Anne. MOVE!”
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Anne pulled off her dress and stepped into the new one sharply, and Elizabeth buttoned it.
“Now the jewellery. I shall give you something more appropriate. This may seem like madness, but there is method behind it. I shall introduce you in Meryton society as a good friend of a distant relative. That is not precisely a lie, since distant could mean nearly anything, and Mary being 50 miles away is distant enough. You should have a chance to learn to live without every fortune-hunting rake in the county calling to court or compromise you.”
Quite distressed, Anne said, “That is mad, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth laughed. “It is! That is the plan’s best feature. Come along; it will be fun.”
When Elizabeth finished the buttons, Anne removed her jewellery. Elizabeth turned her attention to Lady Catherine, who sat in befuddled amusement.
“Do not think you will escape, Little Frog.”
Lady Catherine laughed.
“You, my dear, have missed many of the pleasures of having a daughter, so I shall lend you one to practise on until your own returns.”
Lady Catherine raised her eyebrows, but did not reply.
“The best woman I know is my good friend Charlotte Lucas. She is kind, intelligent, stubborn, and everything wonderful; yet due to the dearth of suitors in Meryton, she remains unwed at 27. You shall fix that!”
Lady Catherine tilted her head curiously. “And why exactly will I do this?”
Elizabeth stepped closer, leaning down to meet her eyes, showing the matron was not the only stubborn one in the room.
“Because you want to! To be honest, I owe both you and Charlotte debts. You sent William Collins to Longbourn, and he has made my sister so happy. I was quite the harridan as a child, and Charlotte led me to the light. She turned me into a lady. She is just what you need. It will give you a new, diverting occupation. I trust you to do the right thing.”
Lady Catherine leaned back, clasped her hands beneath her chin, and considered deeply. She made up her mind and smiled.
“You win, Miss Bennet. Send your friend, and if she remains unwed a year from now, it will not be from lack of society.”
Elizabeth gave her a broad smile and boldly reached down to kiss the dowager on the cheek. “I thank you, my lady.”
“The thanks are all mine. I believe you will get Anne into all sorts of trouble.”
“Of course.”
Lady Catherine glanced at the mantel clock. “If your punctual coachman lives up to his reputation, you have 4 minutes to get to the front drive.”
Elizabeth and Anne laughed with abandon, kissed the lady one last time on either cheek, and ran like the two least decorous ladies in Kent through the grand foyer of Rosings, out through the front door, and into the coach.
It had arrived within 30 seconds of the designated time, and the coachman held the door, looking impatient as always.
With a last wave, Anne sat back beside Elizabeth, leaving Lady Catherine on the steps to contemplate whatever future awaited them all.