𝑝𝑠𝑙 — the merry apple fair.

[enswathe]

( the storm that swept across the area only weeks prior thankfully caused little damage to the crops. the frost remained for under two days before returning to a more agreeable climate. the harvest commenced on schedule with no complications at the end of august, and thither atticus went to bring in the harvest at old squire howarth's land. a commitment to service and respect for the squire's position and title (though lesser in the community than it once had been) compelled atticus to help the reclusive man. but, beneath his altruism, is a desire — nay, selfishness to avoid the gossip igniting meryton. attention, especially the unfavourable kind, rests uneasily on him and his instinct is to ignore and disregard. as it is written, where no wood is, there goeth the fire. so, with concerted attention to propriety, atticus has kept away from meryton for these weeks. naturally, he imposed a temporary self-exile from longbourn as well, although the demeanour and words of mr. bennet suggested that in addition to being unnecessary, it was unkind. when atticus arrived at longbourn that cold, wet august morning, mr. bennet readily accepted his apologies for they are both endowed with sense and tact. unlike mrs. bennet who, upon hearing the carefully whispered story, immediately loosened her tongue, erupting in fury and plunging the household into an uproar. despite atticus's and mr. bennet's attempt at discretion, miss bennet's return to longbourn was not a private affair. before she even arrived, most of the servants knew where and with whom she spent the night and were already spreading it to other servants in meryton. for mrs. bennet, who spends a great deal of energy in the pursuit of good husbands for her two remaining unmarried daughters, actions are counterproductive in that endeavour. quite wrongly, atticus believed three weeks was enough time to quell the gossip or for another scandal to occur. it does not take much to excite and enrage meryton. of course, town culture and countryside culture are wildly different, even in a country town such as meryton. chiefly, most of the labourers are men with time and strength only for work, not gossip while some others are migratory with no ties to the community. however, meryton is full of fools who have time and strength for both, explaining why the slander is still circulating through the town like a plague. not a word of it was spoken in the fields so it was believed that it was forgotten and now safe enough to return from exile. so atticus thought nothing of it when he refused payment from squire howarth but did agree to join him on his gig into town for the merry apple fair, a yearly event celebrating the end of the harvest and the last outdoor meet before winter's cold breath sends everyone indoors. when atticus and squire howarth arrive, the sun is high in the sky and the fairground hums with conviviality. the band strikes up a lively tune as another cockfight begins and the men place their bets. children dash and skip about, their cheeks pink from delight and hearty servings of apple cake. the older women huddle together on the benches or near the closed stalls while the young women participate in the smock race or dance to the music. tis the one day of the year that all social class is abolished and everyone from sir william lucas to the vagabond is on an equal level. in a festive and packed atmosphere like this, it's not difficult for atticus to enter and go unnoticed. still clad in simple rough clothing with tanned skin and unshaven cheeks, he is indistinguishable from most labourers currently roistering at the fair. if he wished, he could remain hidden for all three days of the fair. soon enough, he does find himself alone, misplacing sight of the squire near a jester act. but there's no time to mount a search for atticus soon finds a table fraught with goblets of apple cider and an empty barrel on which to sit. only after several moments of peace does he spy from the corner of his eye, miss bennet surrounded by two genteel women, bedecked in muslin and fur. from the woeful expression clouding her face, atticus assumes the words being spoken by the women do not match the joyful atmosphere of the fair. it takes him but a moment to decide to intervene. while not desirable, slander upon himself is tolerable but not on someone as blameless as miss bennet, and not whilst compunction weighs on him. he slides off the barrel and stalks over to the trio of women. the mood immediately darkens by his imposing presence and his deep voice, normally cheery, is thick with annoyance. ) And what, pray tell, should I have done? Abandon her in the rain and frost, condemning her to illness or death? Or perhaps I should have taken her home immediately, risking both our lives in the name of propriety? ( with his posture much improved and shoulders set back, atticus gives the appearance of a master reprimanding his servants. ) On every occasion, common decency triumphs over decorum and all of us would be remiss if we fail to practice and live by the statement. For very easy is it to unbridle one's tongue when removed but different when involved and desperate. I hope misfortunate befalls neither of you to remain naïve as to who is your neighbour and who is not. ( the glare he focuses on the women is enough to send them scurrying away. the victory of this, while exhilarating, may prove to be pyrrhic. they may return shortly with their husbands, smug in anticipation of the beating he may receive. certainly, at least, more wood is tossed upon the fire. however, the joy of this event may wash off any forming resentment and, so long as both he and miss bennet avoided them, the incident will be soon forgotten. )

Comments

[moralized]

[ It is perhaps quite noticeable how both Mary and Mr. Bennet's countenance changes as he mentions Newcastle. He thinks to offer a comfortable subject by speaking of a place their loved ones dwell, but neither party ever feels much inclined to hear about the place. The word "Newcastle" brings to mind money, as Lydia only writes home when she wants to wail to Mrs. Bennet that she needs more of it, for Wickham has lost it all in some fashion or another. Both of the Bennets listen politely, but when he is done there is a stretch of silence as neither rushes to ask for more information on the city. A better educated woman than Mary would know how to gracefully navigate the subject, but she can only guess at it. ]

Yes. It is clear you enjoy literature.

[ She glances away awkwardly, as if someone will appear to whisper in her ear what she should say. But then she swallows her nervousness and tells herself that she is capable of this. She is intelligent if not world savvy. ]

Have you ever read The Decameron? I have not, as I have heard it contains stories not appropriate for ladies, but I should like to read more of Italy. Have you ever been there?

[enswathe]

( if he had known his praises about newcastle would be met with disinterest, he should've discussed his brief but uneventful visit to derbyshire, a trip marred by storms and chill. or he should've chronicled only the terrible characteristics of newcastle, such as the windy climate and poor waste disposal. yes, yes, that may have been met with better reception. an awkward silence stretches before them; atticus almost revels in it. if he says something else that elicits a similar reaction, they may think twice before requesting his presence. perhaps he'll be able to spend three days in his room, hardly interrupted.

his brows draw together tightly, a line appearing between them as if to stop them from merging. ) Yes? ( he clears his throat, baritone voice crisper now. ) Yes, yes to both. ( he pushes a potato around his plate like a sled through snow. ) If you are interested in Italy, I suggest Ultime Lettere di Jacopo Ortis or The Last Letters of Jacopo Ortis by Ugo Foscolo for further study. ( atticus doesn't speak italian; however, he speaks latin which allows him to give the impression that he speaks italian.

mr. bennet speaks up, "in her last letter, lizzie described reading a travel book about rome from an mr. bernard stirling. 'seven hills' or something. perhaps that should also supplement your study, child. wouldn't you say, mr. cartwright?"

atticus keeps his gaze down at his plate when he responds. ) I wouldn't know, Mr. Bennet, as I haven't read the book. I am prudent with my inclination to agree to someone's statements until I can verify them.

[moralized]

[ Perhaps it will soon become apparent that Mr. Cartwright wishes for solitude and not a barrage of questions and when Mary realizes that, it shall be a lesson learned. A good hostess puts the comfort of her guest first and pressing him for conversation is not what everyone wants.

Mr. Bennet's interjection is not unwelcome, though she has to school her features at talk of Lizzie. It is simply the way her father says his favorite daughter's name that does something to her face at times. Uncharitable thoughts need to be squashed immediately if she wants to remain a reasonable creature and not a petty girl steeped in jealousy. ]

Perhaps she will send it along with her next letter, if it is not an inconvenience to her. And I always have pocket money so I can pay the postage cost.

[ Mary never buys ribbons or cloth for herself. Only sheet music and one book per year since the cost is so great. Her dresses are still serviceable and she plans to disengage with the cruelties of society anyway, so she doesn't require new gowns. ]

And if you have interest, Mr. Cartwright, I could lend you the book once I have finished, so you might form your own opinion on its accuracy.

[enswathe]

( his appetite is sated enough that he signals for the footman to take his plate. the food was not the kind he usually eats for dinner, but it was fine enough that atticus won't go to bed starving. as the footman takes the plate, atticus reaches for his goblet to drink. it is then that miss bennet directs her remark at him. )

Thank you, I shall. ( he sets his glass down. ) But I have little hope that I will find his observations accurate. These days, commentary and historiography are so predicated on bias and sentimentality that they have lost their purpose and credibility. Idealization has blinded many to the realities and mistakes of these societies. They built these grand edifices and spoke wise words, so they did no wrong. I believe they deserve our reverence and we should drink from their fountain of knowledge, but not in the sycophantic way that is commonly practised. ( he takes another sip of his water. ) However, perhaps Mr. Stirling will be the exception, and some of our opinions will run parallel ( , he concedes tactfully. normally, he does not readily dismiss a book before examining it himself. but, after so many inaccurate and fulsome analyses of history that serve nothing but to support a group's claim of greatness and destiny, he is weary. for him, though, the assurance is never in question as atticus's true opinions will parallel those expressed in mr. bernard stirling's book.

because atticus is mr. bernard stirling. )

[moralized]

[ Mary's eyebrows knit together in concern. She hasn't heard of the inaccuracies of modern travelogues and it gives her pause. All her knowledge of the world comes from reading such material and she had always been confident that what she was reading was accurate. Why would it not be? Publishing costs are so great that it seems unfeasible to her. Naturally in her naivete she doesn't think on the possibility of a writer wanting to make sure their work sells by embellishing details. ]

I had not realized the practice of praise had led to such inaccurate accounts. It is a true pity for I have not traveled and am therefore reliant on the knowledge these authors possess on the subject. Is the practice truly so widespread within the travelogue community?