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๐๐ ๐ โ the merry apple fair.
| ( 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 โ 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 naรฏve 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. ) |
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alas, distraction proved to be the sweeter temptation.
his eyebrows rise in interest as a slight smile pulls at his mouth. ) Ah, "On the departure of his Imperial Highness, for the Archduke Rudolph in admiration."
( meanwhile, atticus's german pronunciation is nearly flawless. the perk of having access to first-rate tutors is that it's evident in one's speech and mien. so important it is to his identity that he doesn't perceive of his unintentional disclosure of a facet of his background. but, such an unexpected peek as this is enough to draw the attention of even the uninterested mr. bennet, who lowers his newspaper, slightly, to inspect him.
atticus takes no notice, content enough in his conversation about beethoven and in this company to not employ a constant sense of vigilance about his history. ) When you are comfortable enough, I would be delighted to hear it.
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Truly? I should be happy to put on a performance for you, sir. [ A pause. ] I must say, your grasp of German is excellent. We had a tutor in Meryton several years ago who hailed from Germany, and you sound just like him.
[ "Indeed," her father muses. "What do we think, child? Is he secretly a German who has perfected English, or an Englishman who has perfected German?" Mary straightens a little in her chair. Whenever her father asks her deep, thought provoking questions she does her best to construct a sensible answer, despite him rarely allowing her to finish or listening to all she says. His humor often flies completely over her head. ]
He is certainly an Englishman who is very skilled at the language. [ Not that she can think up a list of reasons why it would be so. Faltering slightly, she can only think to add: ] He looks English.
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he downs the remainder of the hungary water, eyes clamping shut and mouth twisting at the taste and sensation, and sets the empty glass on the side table next to him. it hides well the irritation needling at him. while he shall not and cannot blame either party for his mistake, he cannot pretend that he won't assign some liability to them. why blame the thief when it's the chef's fault for creating and decorating such delicious food? of course, this is the reasoning of the thief and when he is the chef, he would find fault with it. nevertheless, in this and in future instances, atticus will strive to be the arbitrator to the crime, neutral in his approach, and attempt to soothe away any suspicion or curiosity from his company's minds. it is no one's fault and inconsequential to dwell on it any further.
his chin lifts and his jaw sets to a square, a little haughty in its tilt and appearance despite the tan and bristle, to exhibit his profile to her. ) Is that so? Does my countenance agree with your design of the archetypal English man, Miss Bennet?
( truth be told, he considers himself cornish first and foremost, as did all of his family. since time immemorial, there has always been a bottreaux in cornwall; before they were granted the name and the title, before cornwall was known as dumnonia, perhaps even before the romans conquered the celts. it's interesting lore, if possibly apocryphal, but it stirs pride in his family and inspires their tenants to service. if a story can do that then what harm does it bring? )
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Yes, I believe so. I realize now that my knowledge of Germans is somewhat limited and perhaps without the proper amount of data my response may be flawed, but in comparing you to other Englishmen I would say you share features with them.
[ There is a moment of hesitation before she adds: ]
Though I see far more with dark or blue eyes than with green.
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( he laughs and his green eyes, twinkling with a vivacity like a sea of grass swaying from a heavy wind, settle on miss bennet's face. the effects of the hungary water has finally taken hold of him, dulling the pain in his side while loosening his bones, muscles, and tongue. so it comes to no surprise to him that a spasm of laughter overcomes him and he smoothers his mouth with the palm of his hand. the joke is not so funny but that's what makes it so. another factor in the humor is the brief bewilderment that crosses mr. bennet's features and that makes atticus laugh even harder.
perhaps this is what he should've felt at the fair; not an overwhelming desire for anonymity but an exuberance and ease at being surrounded by good company. the lesson taught here, and one that many, many before him have already learned, is that before he attends any social gatherings, a glass of brandy will soothe his tension and allow him to enjoy. of course, the following morning, problems will need to be settled, such as this one. however, atticus tends to solve his problems by circumvention, thereby having them resolve on their own. so far, this tactic has worked in his favor. )
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You are quite harsh on your fellow Englishmen, sir.
[ It's all she can think to say before her gaze is distracted by another crumb she missed that she rushes to pluck off and set on the plate. If Lizzy were here she would have already parried his comment with a biting one of her own. But Mary is not Lizzy and has never wished to be Lizzy except in her darkest moments when she feel utterly alone, ugly and unnoticed. She swallows quickly and forces her thoughts away from such a twisting path of self-reflection. ]
Besides, a mind full of knowledge that is always ready to absorb more is worth far more than beauty could ever be.
[ That's what she keeps telling herself. Mr. Bennet โ who has returned to his paper โ snorts lightly to himself, knowing his daughter's mind is full of knowledge she doesn't know how to interpret. ]
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After today's events, I believe I am justified in my harshness against my fellow Englishmen. If only for a short time. ( he sighs, compunction darkening his face at the realization of mischaracterizing the entirety of a society of people for the stupidity and brutality of a few wayward souls. especially not after the generosity of a few other members of that society. )
But, yes, yes, of course. You are correct. Forgive my facetiousness. ( his apology is interrupted by a hiccup that bubbles forth from him before he even realizes its birth until a twinge flares at his side. showing decorum that he rarely ever displays, mr. bennet gives no indication that he heard the sound. atticus covers his mouth again with his hand but, since it would do very little to reclaim the spasm, he drops it almost immediately to trace a finger along the rim of the empty glass next to him. )
I say, this is Hungary water was extraordinarily strong. Hungariest water. ( a faint smile graces his mouth at his joke, but, thankfully, he does not laugh. )
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Indeed. I am sure its effects are going to start helping you soon. Would you perhaps like to retire to the guest room? We can have the doctor come by after you have rested a few hours.
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( with great effort, he pushes himself off the sofa and stands on his own two feet, although unsteadily. his shoulders are raised up and back again although it causes pain to unfold through his body like a flood over a dam. however, he schools his features to impassivity, biting the inside of his cheek to help in the endeavour. )
I am fine. I will be fine, Miss Bennet. ( he turns to mr. bennet, who has lowered his newspaper down to observe atticus. ) George. I do not wish to trouble the doctor and take him away from the festivities. ( atticus already ruined one family's revelry. he shall not impose on another's.
he looks at miss bennet, tilting his head toward the door, and asks, ) If you could show me where I'm staying, I shall be eternally grateful. ( he presumes that it will be miss bennet's responsibility, not only because she's playing the part of the mistress of the house but also because mr. bennet has settled in his chair with a newspaper. he won't stand even if god almighty himself commands. he is not the kind to perform a duty if someone else can be delegated. )
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Of course. However, if I do not see improvement in a few days, I will beg you to reconsider. Or simply go over your head and fetch the doctor anyway. This way, please.
[ As she leads him from the room, Mr. Bennet smiles behind his paper. He hadn't expected such spirit from his middle daughter. Perhaps she is not so dull after all.
Once they've left the room, she will slowly lead the way to his bedroom to allow him the leisure of walking at his own pace. And in her mind, if he should suddenly feel lightheaded or need a rest, perhaps she could aid him with the offer of her arm. ]
I believe everything should be in order. Some of my father's clothes should have been left for you as well. When will you wish to dine?
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If that comes to pass, I will be obliged to conduct myself as Peter the Great did during his stay at Mr. John Evelyn's home. Then you shan't care if I improve.
( he shoots a grin to mr. bennet as he leaves the sitting room and follows miss bennet closely. behind them, as the door shuts, mr. bennet shouts, "i'll have your head!" and atticus's grin widens when the threat echoes down the empty hallway.
his movements aren't as halting as they were previously, but his injury is still noticeable, and later commented upon, by the couple of servants they pass to his room. the elรกn atticus so effortlessly commands and displays without a second thought snuffed out like a candle. it would take several weeks to recover and, even then, the rigor would linger for a little longer. he is not the young man he once was. however, he still possesses enough of the vitality of youth that he doesn't need assistance to walk to the back of the house where he'll be staying.
in the room he's placed in, most of the furniture is mahogany, giving the room a cozy and understated character. the bed, adorned with white linen covers and feathered pillows, is situated perfectly so that atticus could look out the window, which overlooked the garden, with very little effort. facing the bed is the dressing room which, upon it, is a change of clothing and, next to that, is the stand for the washing basin. the housekeeper already took the liberty of opening the window and a breeze blows by, stirring the white lace curtains from their rest. it's a simple yet comfortable room and it reminds atticus so much of avalon that it diminishes his enduring reluctance to stay at longbourn. )
At the household's designated dining time. ( he sits down on the edge of the bed. ) Please don't revise your schedule on my account. You've done more than enough.
( he goes to lean over to take off his boots but his body reacts in agony, forcing him to stop. ) If you call a servant to help remove my boots then you will have done more than enough.
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Startled at her own behavior, she clasps her hands together once more and inclines her head. ]
I will do so at once, sir. Dinner will be served at five o'clock.
[ And with that, she quickly leaves the room to fetch one of the servants they passed and send them in. Her face feels very hot all of a sudden and she retires to her own bedroom to splash some water on her face. Hopefully at dinnertime she will have a better grip on her senses. ]
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however, he is mistaken in her movement and intention as miss bennet acknowledges his request and scurries away. just as she passes through the threshold, he remembers the urgent message that he must relay to squire howarth regarding the care of dustros and his horse. but miss bennet disappears and a housemaid, a young woman with brown curly hair, is sent in her place.
atticus asks for the servant's name and she responds that it's sarah. with a military officer's effectiveness, he tells sarah that he has four tasks for her: the first is to remove his boots. the second is to adjust the pillows against the headboard so atticus can rest in an upright position. from his previous rib injury, he has found that sitting in an upright position is more comfortable and allows for easier breathing than lying flat on his back. sarah's third task is to fetch a footman or page to act as a messenger and contact squire howarth. as atticus didn't know whether the squire was still at the fair or back at his farm, it would take a great deal of time and effort to locate him. the messenger's reward for completing this task would be a shilling. as would sarah's if she completed these three tasks, along with the fourth and final task: ask mr. bennet if he could be so kind as to lend his valet at four-thirty to aid atticus in dressing for dinner. as atticus could scarcely lift his arms to his chest, it would be difficult for him to dress or, indeed, perform any hygiene ritual. for now, he would be at the mercy of others.
sarah completes the first two at once, pulling off his boots and setting them at the foot of his bed then arranging the pillows just so for him. she also helps him shift entirely onto the bed and the pillows. then she leaves and returns half an hour later to inform him that she spoke to the footman and mr. bennet. both agreed to atticus's requests. after he pays her a shilling, she gives him a glass of water and then leaves.
for the next four hours, atticus alternates between looking out the window and trying to drift off to sleep. the rib injury makes it difficult to find comfort and breathe. still, he passes the time by composing passages and observations about autumn in meryton in his head. later, he will translate his thoughts to paper and place them in his commonplace book. finally, at four-thirty precisely, mr. bennet's valet arrives. his name is mr. brooke and he asks atticus from what area of cornwall he hails. atticus's dialect is refined and indistinct enough that he goes undetected as cornish. still, it's noticeable in the way he sometimes rolls his "r's." atticus lies and says he's from exeter, a town thirty miles east of where he indeed hails. mr. brooke accepts the answer, mentions that he's from padstow on the coast, and helps atticus stand up.
they discover mr. bennet weighs half a stone more than atticus and stands a couple of inches shorter. thus, mr. bennet's trousers are loose and short on him, but the looseness problem is solved by a belt (though not fixed too lightly). what atticus lacks in girth, he makes up in shoulder width hence the white linen shirt is baggy in the stomach area and snug in the shoulders โ not too much that he couldn't raise his arms but enough that he declines to fasten the buttons up to his chin. he forgoes a waistcoat as the piece could restrict his breathing. the valet tugs a pair of socks on atticus to cover the noticeable gap between the end of the trousers at his calves and his ankles. mr. bennet was also kind enough to gift him a pair of worn slippers as it's impossible for atticus to wear his boots.
just as he's finishing dressing, a footman knocks and tells atticus that he delivered the message to squire howarth. the squire agreed to keep his dog until atticus could fetch him, but would bring by his horse in the next day or two. atticus thanks the footman and pays him his shilling as well. he only has fifteen shillings remaining on him. he would be remiss if he did not tip the staff at the end of his stay at longbourn, despite it being convalescence in nature.
mr. brooke deems atticus proper enough to leave his room and the bell to signal for dinner rings. its tinkle is clear even at the back of the house. while not needing assistance during the journey from the sitting room to his room, atticus finds he does need some assistance now, at least until he reaches the foyer and regains the energy to shuffle into the dining room on his own. it's not surprising that only mr. and miss bennet sit at the dining table and not mrs. bennet, who won't show head nor hair until he and his smell was scrubbed from longbourn. )
I apologise for my tardiness. ( he grimaces as he moves behind mr. bennet's place at the head of the table to sit to his left. ) And my appearance.
( atticus would not be out of place in a caricature published in the observer depicting dandies in their outlandish outfits. )
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After enduring all of her mother that she can, she returns to her own room, but there is a restlessness clinging to her that she cannot shake. Unable to focus on reading, she contemplates playing the pianoforte that takes up a good deal of her room but knowing how the sound carries through the house she decides not to disturb their guest. She attempts embroidery and pricks her fingers a half dozen times from being distracted. How the rest of the afternoon progresses she can't say because none of it achieved anything worthwhile and soon enough the maid is helping her dress for dinner.
The Bennet dinner table is not always so empty. Even with three daughters married and one often staying up north, Mrs. Bennet enjoys throwing dinner parties for her neighbors. However, with the fair going on few families are hosting such an event so the Bennets have neither invited anyone nor been invited to dine out. Mary takes her place on her father's right at a lonely chair in the middle of that side of the table. As usually, her father is seated sideways with legs crossed, holding a book aloft as he reads. "It shall be a quiet dinner tonight, child, with your mother abstaining," he observes to her with a light tone. ]
Yes, papa. I suppose I should have Hill take her up something?
[ "If you would like," is his airy response. Mary goes to relay those instructions and returns to the table just as Mr. Cartwright comes in. Her eyes immediately move over him and what he's wearing, and she feels a bit sorry that they could do no better for him. Resuming her seat, she looks to her father for guidance, but naturally there is none. If Lizzie were here, this is where he would turn towards her and make a sly joke at their guest's appearance and Lizzie would immediately add a clever comment. But it is not so when it is only Mary at home. ]
No apology is needed. I was leaving instructions for the housekeeper and so we have not yet begun. How are you feeling, sir? I hope that a few hours rest has began the mending process.
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You ( atticus shifts his chair back a little to relieve the pressure caused by the edge of the table on his torso. ) have more faith in my mending abilities than I do, Miss Bennet. Alas, I feel the same as I did earlier. Discomfort is the nature of these sorts of injuries.
( the closest comparison he can think of would be women during their period of confinement โ that is, the last six weeks of pregnancy โ wherein, they cannot find a place of comfort, no matter what they lay on or in what position.
the footman who delivered atticus's message comes out from the kitchen with a tureen and sets it down on the table. in the dim light of beeswax candles, he leaves and returns several times with various dishes, setting the table with military precision. he finishes with a pudding, a savory kind if atticus's nose is correct. either from kindness or the shilling he gave him earlier, the footman serves atticus a bowl of pea soup for his first course and then asks if he requires looking after. being unaccustomed to servants after an almost decade-long respite, atticus responds that no, he does not. even while injured, he will accept only the bare minimum of assistance. he couldn't lie down, fetch a messenger, or dress on his own so he allowed help; but he can serve his potatoes without aid.
he takes a silent slurp of his soup, bearing great table manners for someone injured and, reportedly, uncouth. ) However, my pride is on the mend. In these past hours, I have concluded that my actions were foolhardy. But well done.
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Mary, on the other hand is a bit of an anomaly within her family. Granted, Jane's sweetness and shyness is a little out of place as well, but Jane is valued and respected by all the Bennets and Mary feels she is only so when she has accomplished something impressive. Here at the table, Mary knows that she must be a good hostess for their guest, but the reason why has become clouded. It should be for praise, should it not? If she performs her role admirably, than perhaps her parents will compliment her and Mary thrives off compliments. Yet as the day has worn on and her thoughts keep running away from her, she thinks perhaps the praise doesn't matter. Perhaps she wants to be a good hostess because Mr. Cartwright deserves it. ]
It was a desperate situation and I can find no fault on your part in how it was handled. It is of course unfortune that violence was seen as a recourse by those men, but hoping for human decency is never foolhardy. I think you very brave for standing up for those who felt they could not stand up for themselves.
[ She nearly adds that it was the good Christian thing to do, but she hesitates and the moment passes. In a way, it feels dismissive of him to think of it as something any Christian would do. There are many among them who would have no thought of intervening, but he is different. Now she is glad she didn't add that part.
She goes back to her soup and for the first time since arriving at home, she doesn't look to her father to see if she spoke well or if he's impressed. It suddenly doesn't seem vital that she know what he thinks of her behavior.
A sudden thought strikes her and she quickly sets down her soup and dabs at her mouth with her napkin. ]
Oh, sir! I have only just thought- Your dog is all alone. Should he be brought here? Or we can send someone to feed him.
[ It's so ingrained in her head that a servant will carry on with duties that it took her until now to remember that Mr. Cartwright keeps no servants. If only she hadn't rushed from his room earlier, he could have spoken of his concerns on his dog and horse right then and there. ]
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the exchange ends and, for a couple of moments, it's quiet except for the soft clings of silverware against glassware before miss bennet breaks it with her solicitude. he glances at miss bennet through his eyelashes, his bangs almost obscuring his vision, and a small smile graces his mouth. ) Already handled, Miss Bennet though I thank you for your concern. Earlier, your footman, Mr. Atwood, delivered a message to the squire wherein I asked him to care for my horse and dog while I recovered. To which, he agreed.
( his smile blossoms to a wide grin that he directs at mr. bennet, but his tone is entirely serious. ) Anyways, I doubt your mother wants to be in the same house with two dogs. ( the pair both laugh, a hearty kind that fills the room with a warmth more intense than the candlelight. mr. bennet's chuckles subsides and he asks that surely mrs. bennet has a better imagination than to deem him that minor and downtrodden creature.
atticus shrugs and dips his spoon into his soup. ) Regardless of the state of Mrs. Bennet's imagination, it'd be a great honour if she thought of me as a dog. What other creature holds us in such high esteem when we do not deserve it? ( he uses his napkin to dab his mouth clean and indicates to the footman that he is finished with his soup. )
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Her mind strays back to Mr. Cartwright's words and she is struck by a sudden curiosity. ]
Why would you feel you do not deserve esteem, sir? You have time and again shown your kindness and sense of right over wrong, even in the face of opposition.
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I speak in general terms. No, no. ( he shakes his head. ) I deserve every esteem bestowed upon my person as I am the paragon of integrity and humility. Shall we all agree to that?
( his behaviour would be condemned as contemptible and prideful if it wasn't for the facetious wink he shoots at mr. bennet. like most, atticus is aware of his merits and failings. he has tallied and studied them to value the good and resolve the bad. but he does not believe the ill outweighs the good. in the past, he has performed deeds that may not be highly regarded by polite society but, in the impolite society of war, they had to be done. it is a weak justification but no person who has experienced the grave places and ordeals he has would disagree. but this is neither the time, place, nor company to have that discussion.
atticus cuts a small piece of mutton, eats it, and almost grimaces. in typical british fashion, the food is plain and seasoned only barely. it's a certainty that the cook in the kitchen is not french nor french-trained. still, he continues to eat the mutton, dragging it through the butter from the asparagus for flavour. ) With food like this, I believe I shall make a swift recovery.
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Without the opportunity of ever eating food prepared by a foreign cook, Mary's palette is accustomed to the bland food and takes him at his word. ]
I do hope it is so. I should not like to see you suffer any longer.
[ Any other reasons for a swift recovery besides that really don't enter her mind. What the locals will think, how Mrs. Bennet will react, and anything else simply matter little to her anymore.
Silence falls as they continue eating and both Mary and her father welcome it. It's impossible not to notice the lack of Mrs. Bennet's presence in the room when she is such a force throughout the house every day. Perhaps with a better education and better manners, her mother could have been someone to be admired but alas it was never to be the case. Mary honors her mother because the Bible says it must be so, but there are times uncharitable thoughts slip in.
Once enough of a pause has occurred, conversation with a guest must of course resume, and Mary takes the reins in an effort to be a good hostess. ]
I believe you mentioned once that you were a great traveler. That you "wore red-heeled shoes," was it? Would you speak of some of the places you have visited?
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( where should he begin?
should he speak of the azure waters of the mediterranean sea where grey-winged gulls fly in the sun's rays while salt lay heavy on his parched lips? or should he speak of winter in the lappland province of sweden? cheeks red and numb from the frost as green lights danced in the inky black sky. or should he recount the hazy glimpses of the great pyramid of giza through a storm of fine, yellow sand?
oh, what if he speaks not of past travels but of dreams for the future? his feet upon american grass, ancient and untouched, and his neck craned to behold the verdant crowns of the weymouth pines swaying in the unspoiled wind. a place in the green of leaves and in the shadow of mountains where true isolation and peace could be attained. he works for that.
but his tongue halts, catching itself on his teeth like a foothold trap.
no. he has been bared enough today. instead, he shall speak of a place that should provide familiarity and, perhaps, comfort. ) Your youngest sister currently resides in Newcastle, yes? I stayed a fortnight therein last year though โ ( a grin tugs at his mouth. ) โ I did not have the pleasure of encountering your sister or brother. ( he expresses the sentiment out of sheer formality and kindness not because he believes mr. or mrs. wickham would be pleasant company. if rumours are to be believed, mrs. wickham is mrs. bennet's facsimile and yet occupies less space in the realm of sensibility and good judgement. and mr. wickham? the less said about him, the better. without meeting the man, atticus's opinion of him is unfavourable.
he continues, ) The area is known for its glassworks and shipyards but, I confess, my time was spent mostly at the Literary and Philosophical Society. On the day of my departure, I realized that I had spent no time engaging Newcastle's society. Although, forsooth, I had very little inclination to do so.
( certainly, mr. and mrs. wickham's presence would have put him off society entirely. his interest in public society, especially in cities, has always been tenuous at best. he prefers seclusion or small gatherings of trusted friends. )
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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?
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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.
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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.
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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. )
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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?