Page 15 of A Rational Man (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

A few days after the ball, Mr. Darcy decided it was time to take action against this unnatural fascination for Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and the best action he could take would be to actually have a conversation with her and learn that his goddess had feet of clay.

Her conversation would be silly, he decided, much like her mother’s.

Her topics of conversation would be fashion and neighbourhood gossip, and this would put paid to any interest he might have in her.

Accordingly, he walked to Longbourn at tea time, thinking this to be the most likely hour to find everyone in the drawing room.

His plan succeeded perfectly, and he was shown by Mr. Hill into the Longbourn parlour, where all the Bennets were gathered.

They rose to their feet, and polite greetings were exchanged.

Mr. Darcy was asked to sit and take tea, which he was happy to do.

After the usual enquiries as to health were covered, Mr. Darcy spoke directly to Miss Elizabeth. “Did you enjoy the ball as much as you expected, Miss Elizabeth?”

“Oh, I enjoyed it very much indeed. Dancing is one of my favourite pastimes.”

Perfect, he thought. “And what other pastimes do you enjoy? I see fashion plates on the table; are these yours, perhaps?”

“They are mine,” Kitty interjected. “No one else here cares for fashion as I do.”

“She is right,” Elizabeth said, smiling over the rim of her cup. “We rely on Kitty to tell us of the latest fashions and colours. She even sketches gowns for us to sew!”

“If the fashion plates are not of interest to you, Miss Elizabeth, what is?”

“Oh, Lord, you had to ask her!” Lydia groaned.

“I am currently studying world geography,” Miss Elizabeth replied, earnestly, setting her cup down and leaning forward.

“Geography?”

“Yes; I began with languages, as one must speak French and preferably German as well, and then from there I became interested in European history and, of course, the important events of our time. But it is difficult to truly understand battles and treaties, whether current or historical, if one does not understand geography, so that is my latest pursuit.”

“And chess,” her father put in.

“Papa will not release me from the chess board, though he has eased up since you arrived, Mr. Darcy. I must thank you for that.”

Mr. Darcy felt a little dazed. “Mathematics?” he ventured.

“Alas, no; I got myself through algebra and that was all that I wanted. Papa hoped I would study geometry with him, but I found history far more interesting. I can keep account books, of course, though Jane is far more proficient than I. She can add a column of numbers so fast that your head would spin just watching her, and she never makes an error!” Miss Elizabeth looked at Miss Bennet with such love and admiration that Mr. Darcy felt himself envious.

How would it feel to have such a glance turned upon himself? !

“Oh, I deserve no such praise!” Miss Bennet cried, her cheeks crimsoning.

Mr. Bennet put in, “It really is something to watch Jane with the account books.”

Mr. Darcy had one last arrow in his quiver. “I know Miss Mary plays; does anyone else in the family make use of the instrument?”

“Lizzy here plays. She is every bit as good as Mary,” Kitty offered. “She makes more mistakes than Mary, but her songs seem to have more life in them. I am sorry, Mary, but you know I am right.”

Mr. Darcy was speechless. His plan had not only not worked, but he was now more impressed with Miss Elizabeth than ever.

“Mr. Darcy, you have asked me any number of questions, and I flatter myself that they have been answered in full. Are you prepared to return the favour?”

“What can you mean, Miss Elizabeth?”

“Why, I have questions about you, of course.”

Mr. Darcy shot a quick look at Mr. Bennet; had the man revealed his secret? “Go on, then, Miss Elizabeth.”

“What sort of man would you say you are?”

“What sort? I do not have the pleasure of understanding you.”

“Are you serious? Humorous? Romantic? Given to strong emotion?”

“I understand you now; I am a rational man,” he said, quite firmly.

“Really! To whom do you look for your philosophy?”

“René Descartes.”

“My father and I spent some time studying Plato and Socrates; in addition, I have read Leibniz and Spinoza, as well as Descartes’ Meditations on First Philosophy . Nonetheless, I remain unconvinced that rationality is the sole basis for a good life,” Miss Elizabeth said.

“How is that possible?” Mr. Darcy asked, brows knitting together. “Only humanity has the gift of rational thinking; should that not then be the basis of human life?

“Rationality does not account for that most basic and important of human experiences – that of emotion,” she said, calmly.

“Emotion! Surely that is for children and the lower orders.”

“Do you hear yourself, Mr. Darcy? The greatest writers and poets of our age – of any age, for that matter – write about the glories of love, the appreciation of beauty, or the agony of loss and despair! Do you decry Shakespeare, Robert Burns, William Blake?”

Mr. Darcy shrugged. “I acknowledge the works of genius, of course, but I do not choose to live my life in accordance with their precepts.”

Miss Elizabeth shook her head. “Did you love your parents, Mr. Darcy?”

“Elizabeth!” her mother reprimanded her.

Both Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth ignored her. “Of course I did, but that is the natural reaction of a child to parental care.”

“So you loved them because of what they did for you?”

Mr. Darcy felt rather wrong-footed now. “Well, I would not put it like that.”

“How would you put it, then? Do not children love even those parents who do not take good care of them? Is it not a natural experience to love one’s parents?”

Mr. Darcy felt himself on firmer ground now.

“It is natural, of course; but man may improve upon nature. Once we are no longer children, once we are in full possession of our rational minds, emotions then become a matter of choice. We can choose to succumb to them or choose not to. For my part, I choose not to.”

“And have you been successful in not succumbing to your emotions?” Her eyes twinkled as if she could read his thoughts, which were in considerable disarray.

“I believe myself to be a work in progress, Miss Elizabeth,” he said adroitly, with a small bow.

She laughed merrily. “As are we all, Mr. Darcy! But you recall what Horatio said to Hamlet, I imagine?”

Mr. Darcy thought for a moment before quoting, “There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

”Precisely,” she said.

“Is it not time for our chess game, Darcy?” Mr. Bennet interrupted a conversation that he felt had gone on quite long enough.

“Indeed.” Mr. Darcy rose with alacrity and bowed to the ladies; he heard Mrs. Bennet scolding Elizabeth as he left the room.

***

That night, Jane demanded, “What was all that about, Lizzy?” Jane turned to stare at her younger sister, who was braiding her hair in preparation for bed.

“Oh, my interrogation of Mr. Darcy? Why, simply to make out what sort of man he is! You must agree, surely, Jane, that it is odd indeed to travel incognito, hoping that no one learns of your high status.”

“Is it? Surely this is a common theme in fiction.”

“But this is real life, not fiction. I wondered who he thought he was, and who he really was.”

“And what did you learn?”

“Why, that he thinks he is a rational man, but in truth he is as governed by emotion as any of us. I wonder when he will realise it.”

***

As he prepared himself for sleep, Mr. Darcy felt deeply confused. Miss Elizabeth was no flighty young thing; she was educated, she was an excellent conversationalist, and it was just possible that she understood him far better than he understood her.

What was he to do now? One thing was certain; he could not allow himself to be in her company again.