vocalizations as she dictated this and that for each girl’s preparation. Although it was not specified, Mrs. Bennet was certain the dance was held in honor of her sweet Jane, and she was determined that all her daughters were to look their best. Mr. Collins was still eagerly courting Lizzy, and the news that the officers in Meryton were invited to the dance rounded out her hopes for the evening for the rest of her daughters. As the fevered pitch of her mother’s voice seeped into the stillness of the library yet again, Elizabeth looked up at her father in the chair opposite her near the fire.
Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes and lowered his head to his book. Elizabeth pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and drooped lower into her chair in escape. She loved being in the library. The scents of leather, aged paper and her father’s cigars filled her senses with calm and comfort. It was a place in which she rarely had to behave as dictated by society. Even now, she did not sit up properly as a lady ought. She tucked her feet beneath her in the giant, leather armchair, dropping her slippers haphazardly on the floor. Sitting with a most unladylike posture, her shoulders hunched forward and her head leaning against the wing of the chair, she could comfortably escape into the peace of a book. It was her chair: the one Mr. Bennet always allowed her to use, sitting opposite to its twin near the fireplace. Mr. Bennet sat in the other with his legs propped up on an ottoman.
However, today Elizabeth could not drown out the thoughts of her mind with a book. Even the comforts of the library, her only chance for peace with the weather keeping her and all her family at home, were not helping her sort out the feelings in her heart. Turning a page in the book that she was not actually reading, she allowed her mind to drift back to the garden a few days before when Mr. Darcy spoke to her last. She was embarrassed that her budding feelings for him had been so apparent in the drawing room and even more concerned that those feelings, which she had believed were only trifling, had driven her from the house at the news that Mr. Darcy was engaged to his cousin. It was not like her to have such a violent, emotional reaction. At least nobody else seemed to notice. Even Jane was persuaded to think she had just needed some air when she asked Elizabeth why she had left so suddenly. She had always been the one to laugh at the follies of others, including herself. She had developed the occasional tender feelings for a gentleman before and, upon hearing his interest was elsewhere, had shaken it off and laughed at her silliness. Not so with Mr. Darcy. Why must that man continually plague me?
Before their day in the forest, she had disliked him quite intensely. After, she had found herself intrigued and even drawn to him. She recalled that every reaction she had to him, either good or bad, was rather passionate. That is what confused and frightened her. The weather had served to oppress her into her thoughts, keeping her blocked in without escape.
She recalled his words in the garden . ‘I am neither by honor nor by inclination bound to marry my cousin.’ Elizabeth once again tried to determine why such a simple statement produced such a powerful sense of relief in her. She trembled to think that he would feel the need to say such a thing to her. They had no understanding between them and only recently had any civil conversations — well, more than civil if she was honest with herself. A rosy hue colored her cheeks as she thought of the near-flirtatious interactions they had had. His kindness and solicitous concern after her injury brought out a charming side of him that, when combined with his attractive features, had only unbound any attempts she had made not to be affected by the handsome man.
Shaking her head, she turned the page again. The words on the page swam and shifted like her thoughts. She admitted to herself that she had begun to
Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes and lowered his head to his book. Elizabeth pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and drooped lower into her chair in escape. She loved being in the library. The scents of leather, aged paper and her father’s cigars filled her senses with calm and comfort. It was a place in which she rarely had to behave as dictated by society. Even now, she did not sit up properly as a lady ought. She tucked her feet beneath her in the giant, leather armchair, dropping her slippers haphazardly on the floor. Sitting with a most unladylike posture, her shoulders hunched forward and her head leaning against the wing of the chair, she could comfortably escape into the peace of a book. It was her chair: the one Mr. Bennet always allowed her to use, sitting opposite to its twin near the fireplace. Mr. Bennet sat in the other with his legs propped up on an ottoman.
However, today Elizabeth could not drown out the thoughts of her mind with a book. Even the comforts of the library, her only chance for peace with the weather keeping her and all her family at home, were not helping her sort out the feelings in her heart. Turning a page in the book that she was not actually reading, she allowed her mind to drift back to the garden a few days before when Mr. Darcy spoke to her last. She was embarrassed that her budding feelings for him had been so apparent in the drawing room and even more concerned that those feelings, which she had believed were only trifling, had driven her from the house at the news that Mr. Darcy was engaged to his cousin. It was not like her to have such a violent, emotional reaction. At least nobody else seemed to notice. Even Jane was persuaded to think she had just needed some air when she asked Elizabeth why she had left so suddenly. She had always been the one to laugh at the follies of others, including herself. She had developed the occasional tender feelings for a gentleman before and, upon hearing his interest was elsewhere, had shaken it off and laughed at her silliness. Not so with Mr. Darcy. Why must that man continually plague me?
Before their day in the forest, she had disliked him quite intensely. After, she had found herself intrigued and even drawn to him. She recalled that every reaction she had to him, either good or bad, was rather passionate. That is what confused and frightened her. The weather had served to oppress her into her thoughts, keeping her blocked in without escape.
She recalled his words in the garden . ‘I am neither by honor nor by inclination bound to marry my cousin.’ Elizabeth once again tried to determine why such a simple statement produced such a powerful sense of relief in her. She trembled to think that he would feel the need to say such a thing to her. They had no understanding between them and only recently had any civil conversations — well, more than civil if she was honest with herself. A rosy hue colored her cheeks as she thought of the near-flirtatious interactions they had had. His kindness and solicitous concern after her injury brought out a charming side of him that, when combined with his attractive features, had only unbound any attempts she had made not to be affected by the handsome man.
Shaking her head, she turned the page again. The words on the page swam and shifted like her thoughts. She admitted to herself that she had begun to
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