See No Evil (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
See No Evil （Dialogue Only）
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“You are staring, Mr Darcy!”
“I beg your pardon.”
“You are staring.”
“My apologies. That is unaccountably rude.”
“I am not censuring you, sir.”
“You are not?”
“Absolutely not. More like showing off, I should think.”
“If that is your objective, you have achieved it… er… miss… er… madam… ah—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and you are Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy! There, is that better now that we have been properly introduced? May we presume to have bowed, curtseyed, looked embarrassed, and inquired after health and weather?”
“What about the state of the roads?”
“That as well!”
“Not precisely proper, Miss Bennet, but sufficient for our needs, I believe.”
“I am Miss Elizabeth. Miss Bennet is my eldest sister Jane—your Mr Bingley’s latest angel.”
“Oh… I… I… Oh—”
“Do not discompose yourself, sir, I meant no censure that time either. Are you always this skittish?”
“In crowded assembly rooms, I imagine I am.”
“I thought so. I can practically smell it. Do you feel you have a great matrimonial target on your back?”
“Er… Ah—”
“You know what I mean—your pounds and pounds, carriages and carriages, acres and acres, circles and circles, and so forth—and such a wealthy man must be unbearably handsome as well!”
“Well—”
“You are staring again, sir.”
“Yes, well, you—”
“Yes, yes, I know. I discompose you. The blind girl always does that.”
“I… I apolog—”
“None of that, sir! You need to learn to cease apologising every second sentence or go back to talking to sighted people. Or perhaps you could return to stalking angrily around the room if you prefer that to my company.”
“Stalking?”
“That sounds ever so much better than sulking, does it not?”
“Are those my only choices?”
“I fear they are. Of course, you could cease stalking, cease sulking, and make yourself amiable for your friend’s sake. His standing in the community might be adversely affected by your disposition.”
“My disposition?”
“Yes sir. The words haughty, arrogant, and proud have been spoken; but of course, by your social inferiors. It may not matter to you, but it does to them. I hope I do not offend with my candour.”
“Actually… candour is appreciated, and rare. However, I have not the honour of knowing any lady beyond my own party.”
“True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ballroom! Is your protégé similarly sulking, or happily dancing? “
“I have not the talent which some people possess, of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”
“I have not the talent which some people possess, of detecting the difference between a wall, a closed door, an open door, and a cliff. I cannot catch the tone of my boots except in a very quiet room. I cannot appear interested in architecture, as I often see done, and I find it most inconvenient when I mistake a wall for an open door.”
“Are you mocking me, madam?”
“I am! You say you cannot converse easily when surrounded by enemies?”
“I did not say that.”
“But you thought it, or something very similar!”
“Did you trade your eyesight for the ability to read minds?”
“Touché, sir… or is that word considered unpatriotic… never-mind… I was always a studier of characters. Complex characters are more interesting, and you are my victim for the moment. You are mostly helpless since no gentleman would pick on a blind girl, and if you stalk away angrily, your expression will be entirely wasted on me, but not on the rest of the room.”
“You are refreshingly confusing, Miss Elizabeth. Pray, continue your chastisement at your leisure.”
“You say you cannot catch their tone of voice? Tone of voice is all I have now. I just had to practise, but I imagine you do not trouble yourself.”
“You give your opinion very decidedly—”
“—For a blind woman?”
“Do not put words in my mouth. I have enough trouble with the ones I put there myself.”
“Touché again, sir!”
“Would it be untoward to ask—”
“Ask anything you like. That is the benefit of talking to me; the reward for tolerating my impertinence and your obviously acute embarrassment.”
“I do not understand.”
“I am the safest conversationalist in this room… even safer than that woman you arrived with… who is clearly stalking you. By the by, I might recommend a stout lock on your room or a large dog—perhaps both!”
“How did you know—”
“Patience. Am I wrong?”
“Probably not.”
“Shall I answer your impertinent question?”
“I cannot even remember what it was.”
“Would it be untoward to ask? There are benefits to talking to a blind woman.”
“Such as?”
“You can ask any question you like. I can get away with anything, and that protection extends to you. Nobody knows how to adapt the rules of propriety for a woman who once freely traipsed all around the country, is known to everyone in the village, but is blind now. They know how to handle one who was always blind, or has blindness caused by injury, war wound, old age, fever, or serious illness; but my sight just gradually disappeared over a few months a couple of years ago with no real fuss. Except for not being able to see, I do not look the part. Nobody knows what to do with that.”
“And how does that apply to our earlier discussion?”
“I am the safest woman in the room for conversation by every measure. You are safe from both me and matchmaking mamas like mine because I am so obviously unsuitable for marriage. I would of course be completely unsuitable for a man of your circle even with my sight; but without it, nobody could possibly think I have designs on you. Conversely, not even my mother would deign to interrupt the one man who would pay attention to me in a month, and even she would not drag you away to one of my more suitable sisters, as that would be too vulgar even for her. Therefore, you are safe from all enemies.”
“An extraordinary assertion, madam.”
“Go ahead, if you dare. Pick any woman in the room and make eye contact, and see if she does not look away.”
… … …
“Right as usual, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I thought so. I am impervious to impropriety. I could drag you into the library by your cravat—presuming I could find it—come back an hour later with my dress unbuttoned and my petticoat lost, and everyone would just assume it is another quirk of the sightless. If you say something untoward and I should happen to repeat it, everyone will assume my hearing or understanding is diminished by my blindness. I am not in the least missish, as I will eventually be a companion to someone’s ancient aunt, so I wish to have all the good conversation I may before that happens.
Therefore, you are perfectly safe in my company. ”
“I… I—”
“At least from everyone else.”
“Er—”
“Ask your question, Mr Darcy!”
“What did you gain when you lost your sight?”
… … …
… … …
… … …
“Have I flummoxed you, madam?”
“I am all astonishment!”
“Why?”
“That is not one of the usual questions—”
“Such as?”
“How long have you been blind? Can you see anything at all? Why do you not cover your eyes? Why have your eyes not turned cloudy? Are you a witch? CAN YOU STILL HEAR? Oh, you poor dear, how will you ever catch a husband? What did you lose besides your sight? Can you see anything at all… anything? Are you a witch? Are your sisters going blind too? How about your papa? How do you not bang into every tree in Hertfordshire? Is your hearing improved? Will I catch it if I talk to you? If you had children, would they be blind? Are you a spinster yet, and if not, how long until you buy the cap? Why do you still come to assemblies if you cannot even watch the dancing?”
“I take your meaning.”
“Nobody has ever asked that question.”
“Nobody?”
“Not a single soul!”
“They all assume it is only a loss!”
“Exactly.”
“So, answer the question, if you dare.”
“Impertinent pup, are you not?”
“Yes, madam. Stop prevaricating!”
“I gained clarity and peace of mind.”
… … …
… … …
“Clarity? Peace of Mind?”
“Yes sir.”
“Pray, elaborate, if you will.”
“If I still had my sight, my mother would be pushing me to secure one of the rich gentlemen, since it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. I would, naturally, be entertaining unrealistic girlish dreams of finding my one true love—who knows, it might have been you—and there is no need to smirk. I know how unlikely it would have been.”
“You assume I am smirking?”
“Am I wrong?”
“No.”
“I would spend all my time wondering what my future held. I would be hoping for so much more. Love, marriage, children, long life, adventure with an amiable and loving man… all that while trying not to admit that I had almost no dowry, four sisters, no brother, an entailed estate where I may be thrown into the hedgerows when my father dies, a loud and uncouth mother, two or three silly sisters, and not a single eligible and amiable man within twenty miles. I would still have hoped for all that, despite the odds. My mother would have pushed me relentlessly at any man in trousers who happened to cross her path, and doubly towards any rich man, and our acquaintance would have been miserable. I do not doubt one of us would have hated the other on sight. However, now that it is all gone, I need not repent its loss, as I know what my life will most likely be.”
“How do you see it?”
“I am intelligent—frighteningly so, according to the easily intimidated—so I can still do useful things. I teach a few children to read using books I memorised years ago and letters fashioned by my friend John Lucas and his wife. I may be able to continue that in some capacity one day—perhaps at a school for the poor or some such place that cannot afford to be particular. Perhaps I may teach most of the poor girls of a neighbourhood to read and write. I imagine with one older girl as assistant I could do quite well. I am an excellent conversationalist, a good listener, and the most sensible of my sisters. I can help those who are melancholy or confused by simply listening to them and giving their problems due consideration, even if I do not offer good suggestions. I can do something useful despite my eyes, and most importantly, I can be happy. Happiness is a choice, you see. Now that I have no more exalted hopes, I may rejoice in those that remain. That is what I gained—clarity and peace of mind—and that leads to happiness, if I but allow it.”
“You imply that limiting your choices leaves you more content with those that remain?”
“There is no need to couch it in hypotheticals. My status is what it is—but to answer your question—yes, I believe reducing my choices has left me happier with what is left. It is a bit of a paradox, really.”
“Singular, I would say. I am not certain I could be so sanguine.”
“I hope you shall never have to learn. It accomplishes nothing to rail against your fate. I burnt through all such frustrations the first year or two, and I must own that tilting at windmills did no more for me than Don Quixote. I am content.”
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… … …
“Enough of that! It is time for you to cease sulking.”
“Not sulking.”
“Quibbles, sir… quibbles. Let us get on with it!”
“Get on with what?”
“Give me your arm, and I will introduce you to some people and help ease you into conversation. It will give you a chance to practise being sociable, and me a chance to practise helping someone. If necessary, I shall translate whatever they say into English for you. Who knows, being in my company may even extend the imperviousness of my anti-matrimonial shield. I hear Miss Lucas to our right. Let us begin with her.”
“Very well. Take one step to the right, then five forward.”
“Thank you.”
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… … …
“Miss Charlotte Lucas, may I present Mr Darcy of a vast estate with heaps of blunt from the Great North! Mr High and Mighty Darcy, my best friend, Miss Charlotte Lucas.”
“Lizzy. That hardly seems proper.”
“I believe the gentleman agrees, so you had best leave this den of impropriety. Perhaps you can discuss it while you dance.”