Chapter 40 #2
“Are you comfortable?” Mrs Annesley asked.
“Oh yes! Someone like her, I just swat away like a fly.”
“Have you ever tried to kill a fly?” Elizabeth asked. “They are tricky, and move so fast it is nearly impossible to swat one. Most of the time you merely annoy them, and they return immediately.”
Georgiana giggled. “True, that has been my experience so far… but this is my dream, so my ball, and my reactions. I slay the dragon with the first strike.”
Elizabeth laughed with Mrs Annesley. “How would you describe yourself in this situation?”
“I look like myself, but I am as fearless as Lizzy.”
“How so? You dragged me to this house and extracted more of my private business than my sister will ever know, in less than a day, Georgiana. What more could you possibly want?”
Georgiana sat up, opened her eyes, and stared at Elizabeth.
“You are a special case, Lizzy Bennet. Had you met me in Lambton before my statue started talking, you would have considered me painfully shy… worse than your first impression of Anne.”
Elizabeth flinched, having once called Anne sickly and cross.
“Touché. So, you think you lack resilience?”
Georgiana considered. “I think so. How did you become so tough?”
Not in the mood to reveal her childhood difficulties, the real cost of her resilience, or the very real possibility that many would consider her more than a touch mad, Elizabeth replied carefully, “That story is private, but perhaps I can help you with a different example. Do you know how the army turns ignorant farm boys into soldiers?”
Georgiana looked startled at the suggestion, but being resilient should at least include allowing her best friend to meander onto a different topic.
“I will bite.”
"Napoleon, Wellington, and Caesar used similar methods, allowing, of course, for the nearly 2,000 years that separate them. They start with a boy, put a heavy pack on his back, and march 20 miles. They repeat it day after day while a sergeant yells at him, half instruction and half intimidation. They continue with various trials, pushing the men to their limits and beyond. They accustom them to gunfire by first having them fire muskets, then have others fire over their shoulders, and eventually have others fire over their heads while they crawl through the mud. I am of course vastly oversimplifying, and any real soldier would laugh at the limits of my knowledge, but you understand the idea. It is like Milo’s bull writ large. "
Georgiana stared in shock, while Mrs Annesley smiled gently.
“Do you mean Richard did this?”
Elizabeth leaned forward and took her hands. “He endured all that and far worse. He then went out to find men who were shooting at him rather than over his head, trying their best to kill him—dead.”
“You do not spare us in your analogies, do you?”
“A wise old man once said excess is its own reward.”
“You just made that up?”
Elizabeth chuckled.
Georgiana considered this. “Facing your fears seems the key to conquering them?”
“Miss Bennet is right,” Mrs Annesley said.
“Milo would be a good example. It cannot have been pleasant to carry a calf day after day until it grew into a bull, and we may laugh at him when he finally put it down; but in the end, his ability to carry the bull may have been the difference between success and failure. The strong man can put the bull down any time. The weak man cannot move the bull at all, and if he encounters one, he will likely be trampled.”
“Do we not all sound like a pack of hoydens with our masculine analogies?”
Neither companion seemed distressed, though Mrs Annesley looked as though she probably should be, just to maintain the forms.
Elizabeth sat back. “So, Georgie—what do you think?”
Georgiana closed her eyes, her brow furrowed in furious thought. Both companions jumped when she opened them, sprang from the sofa, and started pacing in a surprisingly accurate imitation of her brother.
Elizabeth refrained from laughing… just barely.
“The solution is so obvious,” Georgiana said. “I have no idea why it took me so long to work it out. Lizzy, I shall not trouble you to visit Longbourn.”
“I see! What will you do instead?”
“I will find someone to march me 20 miles while yelling and cursing at me. I will go to Rosings and stay there until I am no longer afraid of Lady Catherine. I may even impose on her to bring me out into society, since she will do it for your friend anyway, and she could use another project.”
Elizabeth stared. What had brought on the transformation?
Mrs Annesley said, “Miss Darcy, might I offer you two pieces of advice I got from my late husband? I am not certain where he got them.”
“Of course!”
“The first is an old blacksmith’s saying: ‘Strike while the iron is hot.’ Your courage rises to the occasion. Let us not waste it. I suggest we leave first thing in the morning.”
“But I must write to Fitzwilliam for consent, and I have no idea where he is.”
“That brings me to the other old saying. It may be Chinese or Arabic, for all I know: ‘It is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.’”
Georgiana stared.
Elizabeth laughed and shook her finger at the wise companion. “I like you, Mrs Annesley. I truly do.”
“It is settled. You write to your brother tonight, informing him of your decision—by regular post?”
“Of course! This is exactly what I need, and I need not impinge on Lizzy’s freedom.”
“I think this is the best plan I ever heard,” Elizabeth said. “It is perfect, and it is not as if you will lack Bennet company. My eminently sensible sister Mary is but a lane away.”
“Your face tells me you leave a point out.”
Elizabeth sighed. “You used to be easier to fool.”
“What is it?”
“I finally worked out why I did not want you in Hertfordshire. It all centres on a certain Mr Wickham.”
Georgiana, startled, sat straight again. “I am not afraid of Lady Catherine… or at least, I will not be in half a year, so I need not fear him.”
Elizabeth winced. “I admit my first thought was to protect you, but with that problem solved, another remains.”
“Which is?”
Elizabeth could not meet her eye. “When I return, I plan to deal with that rogue. I have no idea what form the remedy will take, but it will be… ah… unpleasant. I do not want you there because I want room to manoeuvre.”
“Pray tell me you do not plan anything dangerous! Live ammunition metaphors and conversations with my aunt are one thing, but—”
“Nothing like that. The Latin has it: ‘Veritas vos liberabit—the truth shall set you free. Unfortunately, the saying does not mention what happens to others when the truth sets us free. I think a dose of truth is all that is necessary. The rest might sort itself out. Of course, all this presumes my sister Lydia has not already dealt with that problem, and I give that a 50:50 chance.”
Georgiana jumped twice. "That is it, then. It is decided."
Georgiana spun round with dizzying speed. "Your turn, Lizzy."
“My turn?”
“Lean back and relax. It is time to exercise your imagination at my direction instead of your own, since your resilience is not in question.”
Elizabeth looked dubious but complied.
“Now Lizzy, I want you to imagine yourself—no cheating by putting someone you admire in your place.”
Elizabeth smiled but said nothing.
"First, I need to know some adults you esteem. Would your aunt and uncle do?"
“Of course. They are my favourites.”
“Now, I want you to be around 30-40, rounder than you once were—”
“Since it is my imagination, may I be taller too?”
“Oh, hush! Imagine yourself next to the fire with a few little ones running about. You might be giving the girls a lesson in embroidery or calculus. The boys might be reading Shakespeare or chopping holes in the wall with a hatchet.”
Elizabeth giggled but kept her eyes closed.
“Now the door opens. The children all jump up and run towards it, crying, “Papa! Papa! Papa!’”
Elizabeth smiled at the vivid picture.
“Imagine your aunt and uncle are visiting, and by chance, they are nearer the door. You get up gracefully and elegantly, which naturally spills your work on the floor, so the whole happy rabble of your house greets the new arrival before you even cross the parlour.”
“This seems an over-complicated scenario.”
“Quit whingeing. Now, you cross the parlour and come round just as your uncle slaps the new arrival on the shoulder. I always wanted to know someone gregarious enough for that, and your uncle seems like a man up to the task.”
Elizabeth giggled. “Is this my dream or yours?”
“Oh, hush! You reach the threshold just as your uncle gives his greeting.”
Enjoying the game, Elizabeth asked, “What exactly does this paragon of hearty fellowship say, then?”
Elizabeth was slightly startled to find Georgiana’s face only a foot away, bearing a wide smile.
“Naturally he says, ‘Good to see you, Milo!’”