Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Chapter 13
Professor Bingley, who seemed to have made all other things secondary to getting her story right, appeared after Richard's class. Elizabeth was still stuck between Darcy and the wall -- roughly speaking -- because she could not go past him. He was still sitting down and talking to Richard and she was not going to ask him if he could move his chair. Climbing over the table was out of the question since she was wearing a short skirt. And anyway, she would have to fold up her legs in an impossible manner if she did not want to kick him in the face. But then, the skirt did not matter, she realised when she remembered the smiling Darcy. If Darcy was like that, then Fitzwilliam had to be too and neither would care much about her skirt. Elizabeth brightened up and attempted to climb over the bench.
Just as she had thought, she got stuck. She would have to swing her legs over Darcy's head right into Fitzwilliam's face, but she was not that lithe. Besides, Professor Bingley would have her expelled. Elizabeth sat on the desk and waited patiently. She observed as the Prof dug her not so very short nails into Fitzwilliam's back, out of Darcy's sight, in a supposedly amicable gesture.
"I need the key to your house, Richard," the Professor ordered.
Fitzwilliam was not as discreet as she was. He wanted to reply something faintly lecherous, but not in front of a young and uncorrupted student. But the girl was stuck because Darcy seemed oblivious to the fact that she wanted to go past him, he could see that. His desire to spare her the shock of hearing his reply won out over his desire to see more of her legs. "Oh, you're stuck!" he said. "Hang on." He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her off the table, so that eventually she could put her feet on the ground.
"Thank you," Elizabeth said with a giggle. She grabbed her bag. He was nice.
"My pleasure," Fitzwilliam beamed. If only there were more girls who got stuck behind Darcy. Come to think of it, maybe he could get Darcy to collaborate on this with him, but he thought that it was unlikely. Darcy was not the type to purposely corner girls just so Richard could pull them off tables.
"Richard," Caroline said again. "You did hear me?"
Fitzwilliam stared after the disappearing student. "Yes, I heard you, love. You want my key. Only if you give me yours."
"That's out of the question. I need everyone's keys."
"Look, Caroline. I don't know your hidden agenda, but I'm pretty sure your request has nothing to do with the fact that I'm an ultimately desirable sort of guy."
Darcy snorted, but thought it wisest to restrict himself to that. In fact, he should not even be snorting when Richard was making passes at Caroline.
"You can only have my key if you promise to spend at least three nights a week with me," Richard leered. He was putting Darcy to the test, he knew, but either Darcy was so certain of Caroline that he did not care, or he had come to realise Caroline was not his kind of woman. Either way, he could go on trying.
"Again, that's out of the question." Caroline was unsettled. She glanced at Darcy. To give up monogamous Darcy for polygamous Richard was something very stupid. "You have more women than days of the week." He would tire of her very soon and dump her for some brainless twit.
"That's just as long as I can't have you, love. Darcy, you would agree with me, wouldn't you? Looks good for her age, doesn't she?"
Caroline slapped him twice and stormed out of the room.
Richard felt his cheeks. "Geez. Darcy, don't tell me you want to have a go at me as well for trying to seduce your girlfriend."
"I'm not that uncivilised."
"Give her up."
"Why?"
"Because she only took you as a substitute for me. She wants me but she doesn't want to admit it, so she took the person that resembles me most."
"You're deluded," Darcy commented.
"So are you if you stay with her. Why don't you direct your energy towards making that pretty girl like you?"
"Which pretty girl?" Darcy asked suspiciously.
"The one that was sitting next to you." Richard felt he had hit the jackpot here and he grinned broadly. "The one who did not dare to ask you to move aside and the one you actually did not want to leave her place? The one with the skirt? If you say you didn't notice the skirt, I have to say you don't have any of the Fitzwilliam genes."
"I don't have as many as you do, certainly." Darcy felt his cousin was coming a little too close to the truth.
"But a few all the same. I knew you did. But pal, you've got to put some effort into this. She's not Caroline. You've got to do some work yourself, because she doesn't want you at the moment. And gently push our beloved Professor in my direction."
"She doesn't want you at the moment."
"She's better off with me," Richard said confidently. "Someone's got to slow that woman down before she spins out of control and you're exactly the same, so you're not a good influence on her. She's taken on too many responsibilities. In other departments professors don't reign despotically, you know. But she gets away with it, because everyone here gives her their key if she asks for it, as if this is a normal request. I say you dump her and let me sort her out while you go after that girl."
"But she's a student," Darcy protested.
"Well, do you really think the age gap between you and her is very much bigger than the age gap between you and Caroline?"
"I don't know Caroline's age."
"What would you guess?"
"Given her hysterical reactions to your threat to reveal it..." Darcy said reflectively. "I suppose it must be something like forty, although she doesn't look that much older than me."
Richard cackled. "You tell her you think she's forty and she'll be mine forever. Excellent!" He knew Caroline's age since they had graduated together and Darcy's guess was highly amusing. It was all Caroline's own fault. People were beginning to think she was much older than she really was if she was so hysterical about it.
Chapter 14
Darcy saw Elizabeth in class every week, but he could not find the courage to address her about anything unrelated to the course. In fact, even that was a tough thing. It was with regret that he supervised the exam at the end of the course. This was going to keep her out of his way for a long time, perhaps until next year. Even though he should not be thinking this at all about a student.
And what was he still doing with Caroline? Sometimes he asked himself that question, but he never got an answer. He had not tried to push Caroline in Richard's direction. That would be even more bizarre than getting an energy boost from walking past -- but not looking at or saying anything to -- Elizabeth.
But at least he was getting some work done after those energy boosts, which was more than could be said for Charles.
Charles was not getting anything done at all. He had asked Jane to move in with him, but Jane had refused and now he was completely desperate and helpless. "I don't know what to do," he said to Darcy. "I can't live if she doesn't move in with me." Indeed he had gone back to dressing very badly. The awfully striped sweater was back in wear.
"Oh, shut up," snapped Darcy, who was a little irritated by this display of stupidity. "You've been living without her for ages. Just carry on." However, he wished that Jane had had the sense to donate the sweater to the Salvation Army. She must not be caring about Charles very much.
"I can't. Things have changed. I need this woman."
"She obviously doesn't need you as much as you need her." Which seemed a valid comment where other women were concerned as well, Darcy reflected. They did not seem to need men and were blissfully unaware of the turmoil they caused by just walking past. Lately he had come to realise that he was unusually affected by something. While it had the same symptoms as being a little too high on coffee, it was odd to assume that he had suddenly developed a low coffee tolerance, because he had not begun to drink more of it all of a sudden.
Charles sniffed.
"Charles!" Darcy was not going to experience a sobbing Charles. He would stop it before it began. "Break up with the woman! If she doesn't want to move in with you, she's just keeping you on a string. It's not what you need. Just forget about her. Get some nice student." He bit off his tongue.
"I don't want a student. I want Jane," Charles said stubbornly. "Why doesn't she want me?"
"I don't know, Charles. Women are odd. Let her go if she doesn't want you. It'll save you some heartaches. And you can get some work done."
"But she works in this department!"
"I work in the same department as Caroline and I can get my work done."
"You don't have any problems with Caroline."
"She sometimes has problems with me," Darcy confessed. "But you know, I always let her rave on, because in the end she's going to come back to me anyway. Be strong."
"It's the famous Fitzwilliam genes that rule out all possibilities of truly being attached to a woman, isn't it?" Charles asked. "And to have some sort of deluded opinion of your own powers of attraction. Look, you wouldn't understand me. I truly love Jane. You don't truly love Caroline. You're convenient to each other."
"But Jane doesn't truly love you. Your true love is not going to get you anywhere." Darcy was a little miffed by the criticism. However, he forgot to inquire after Jane's motivations to not move in with Charles. They were of minor importance. "Just act normally to her and don't ask her out again."
"Did I do the right thing in saying no?" Jane asked Professor Bingley during their weekly all-girls chat.
"Absolutely," the Professor nodded. "Women should not give up their independence just to become a man's slave." She would never move in with a man.
"I wouldn't have become his slave," Jane protested. "He's not that kind of person."
"That's what they all say," the Professor said wisely. "That's what Hurst said too, wasn't it?" she asked Louisa. It was common knowledge that Hurst's skills in operating household appliances were restricted to the television set and the computer. He could not drill holes in a wall, let alone vacuum up the mess this created.
Louisa tried to smile, but failed. "No, he didn't."
"Look at Louisa. You don't want to become someone like Louisa."
"Caroline!" Louisa said in annoyance. She did not like to be criticised in public.
Jane was impressed. Louisa was the only one who addressed the Professor as Caroline, as far as she had heard.
"Well, I'm sorry. I just feel bad for you."
"Jane, don't listen to her. At least I've got a husband and she doesn't."
Caroline gasped. That was a very low thing to say. "But I would rather not have a husband than have a husband like yours."
"Well, he's safe from you then. That can't be said for some other men in the department," Louisa snapped.
"Did I do the right thing in saying no to Charles?" Jane asked Elizabeth. "I asked the women in the department, but they got into a fight and I went away."
Elizabeth giggled. "A fight? Why?" She liked to hear gossip.
"Louisa is apparently Professor Bingley's sister and they fight a lot. The Professor is not really very nice to her."
"That's why people call her Professor B****ley," Elizabeth said dryly.
"Really? I've never heard them call her that." Jane was shocked.
"Of course you wouldn't hear that. People wouldn't tell you, because you wouldn't agree and you wouldn't sympathise with them."
"Oh. But do you think I did the right thing? I think it's much too soon. I haven't known him long enough and I know Mum would be enthusiastic about it, but I just can't. Do you know what I mean? Plus that we live in this house together and where would you go if I moved in with Charles?"
"Did you tell him that?"
"I tried. But he was disappointed and I don't know if he heard." Jane nearly cried when she remembered the disappointed Charles.
"Jane. Calm down. It's his fault for being disappointed, not yours. He should have thought this out better. He couldn't have expected you to drop all your stuff where you were standing and come running to him, now could he? He shouldn't have." Elizabeth had imbibed a little too many of the Professor's notions and she was ready to blame all men for being that way. She toned down a little when she realised she was becoming a little B****ley clone. "But we'll see after the holidays, won't we?"
The holidays were an ordeal for all the men in the department, since they all pined for one or more women.
However, the end of the holidays did not bring them any relief.
Professor Bingley had accidentally read a frightening article that had said that the age of the mother at birth determined the intelligence of the child. While she was not planning to have any children at this very moment and perhaps never at all because this would interfere with her academic work, the fact had registered in her brain and it had begun to fester.
If, in some years' time, she wanted to have a child, it would be a complete idiot.
She did not want any, so why should she care?
But she wanted an intelligent child if she ever had one. Why had she gone through the trouble of getting an intelligent man if any child of theirs would automatically be retarded?
What had really been in the article, was now unclear and the imagined and distorted contents were leading a fruitful life inside the Professor's mind.
So much that she even spoke to Darcy about it. "Have you ever considered having children?" she asked him. Men were insupportable. Their age never mattered.
"Eeew," said Darcy. Caroline could not be serious and he did not take her question seriously at all. Not for one moment did he think that she was considering herself as well.
Not that she wanted any children, but in case she did, Darcy was not going to be a willing accomplice. The Professor took a sabbatical to ponder this problem.
Darcy had had to do the whole summer without her and now this sabbatical. He wondered if they were still an item or not, but she was gone, so he could not ask. Thankfully he had managed to forget about students during the summer. As he watched the young, immature and giggling girls stream down the corridor, he wondered how he could ever have been in any danger.
Chapter 15
The inevitable result of spending too much time with Bingley was that one's fashion sense began to deteriorate. There was no scientific explanation for this phenomenon, but the empirical data were there for everyone to see.
Darcy was seen in jeans.
Evidence could not get any more overwhelming than that. Especially since Darcy looked overwhelmingly cute in them.
Among the female student population there was a hesitant movement back to admiring Darcy, what with Bingley looking like a walking candy stick and Fitzwilliam smiling too warmly at far too many girls. In short, nobody would dare to venture out in public with either, a requirement that should be among the most important ones where crushes were concerned, because people would come up to the girl to ask if Bingley had raided the Salvation Army shop or in case she was out with Richard, there would be too many exes, half-exes, wannabe-exes, crushes, ex-crushes, wannabe-crushes, or worse, regular girlfriends who would have something to say about it.
Taking a walk with Richard would feel like parading stolen goods in front of a horde of policemen.
And because every girl should at least have a crush -- but preferably a boyfriend -- to be considered normal by other people, there were a few who were too shy to ever do more than have crushes, who developed a crush on Darcy, because Darcy would never find out, let alone confront them with it and make them get into that scary business of admitting their feelings. Darcy was pre-eminently the sort of guy shy girls would have crushes on.
But Darcy was suffering from the same handicap as the girls. There was a general paralysis that affected all of his body parts -- except his eyes -- the moment Elizabeth appeared in his field of vision. He usually looked away when that happened.
He had cheered to soon. While he had succeeded in pushing her out of his mind over the summer holidays, the first sighting of her in September had made him realise that nothing had changed, but that in fact things had only got worse.
Not only was he falling for Elizabeth, but he also still had Caroline.
It was a violation of the Fitzwilliam family principles to object to having two women, but Darcy did it all the same. September was depressing, October was misery and Caroline's return was hell.
"I want a baby," she announced without any further ado.
So do I, Darcy wanted to reply, because students were babies, in a way, but then he realised that it would give Caroline the idea that he wanted her to have a baby. He swallowed his words in shock. She could not be meaning this seriously. "A b-b-b-aby?" he stammered. It was likely that she wanted him to play an active role in this. But how? She had always wanted to keep their relationship a secret.
"Yes."
"And what does that have to do with me?" he asked, fearing the worst. "Does that mean we should get married? But I thought you wanted to --" And he had also thought that she never wanted any children at all.
Caroline looked shocked. "No! Marriage is so conventional. No. We can't get married. I'm a professor. You're..."
"Not worthy."
"No! That's not what I mean. People would talk and --"
Darcy shook his head resolutely. He would not mind if he lost Caroline over this. What did that mean for the strength of his feelings anyway? "You must be getting artificial insemination, because I'm not going to play a role in this, do you hear?"
Caroline looked horrified at the thought of spoiling her genes with untrustworthy material. "I am not going to a sperm bank. Suppose the donors lied about their IQ!"
"You've got another man?" Darcy raised his eyebrows inquiringly. What other option was there? Nothing, he thought. But which man would pass muster? Not many.
Caroline squinted at him. "I'll get one! Fine! I now declare us officially over." She got up and put her hands on her hips to prove that she was going to stick to her point even if Darcy should protest against it.
Darcy felt an odd sense of relief. "Can we still be friends?"
"Friends." Caroline spoke the word as if she did not know what it meant. "I'll have to think about that."
Darcy got an idea. And why not? Why not do his cousin a favour? "A friendly gesture -- if you're looking for a man, I know one who'd do anything for you."
Caroline knew him too. "Not him. Anyone but him. Good night." Without saying anything else she left the house.
Darcy sat on the couch for fifteen minutes while he analysed and evaluated his feelings. This was a good thing, he concluded. And now he was a free man. He picked up the phone. "Richard? You're always so proud of your famous Fitzwilliam genes...I wondered if you'd be interested in spreading them..."
Chapter 16
Elizabeth sat in the students' lounge with some homework and watched people walk past. It was a very good place to observe people from. It was more interesting to note down what they did than to do homework.
Charles Bingley, looking wretched -- to the men's room.
Richard Fitzwilliam, looking wicked -- to Professor Bingley's room.
At least, that was what Elizabeth assumed, since there was not much else in that little cul de sac. It was interesting, though. Maybe he was going to give the Professor his key -- finally.
F. Darcy, looking -- destination and first name unknown.
Charles Bingley, looking wretched, but presentable enough to be admitted into his office by his roommate Darcy -- back to his room.
Professor Bingley, looking haunted -- to the ladies' room.
Richard Fitzwilliam, looking wicked -- to just outside the ladies' room.
F. Darcy, looking -- destination unknown.
That he should look once, allá, but twice? Did it not look as if she was zealously doing homework? Circle, Elizabeth thought. It was cool to use Dutch words, even if she did not know how to spell them, but it sounded like circle. What the heck -- Darcy could not hear her anyway.
William Collins, looking < classified > -- to where I don't want him.
"You're blocking my view, William," she informed him. Trust him to do that just when she expected Professor Bingley to come out of the ladies' room. She tried to peer past William. Where had Fitzwilliam gone?
"I wanted to ask if you wanted to work on the phono paper with me."
Phono paper? Who cared about phono papers if there was gossip to be had here? Elizabeth was annoyed that he still would not move aside. "No, thanks." She resumed her observation of the ambulatory habits of the academic species.
Jane Bennet, looking preoccupied -- to the ladies' room.
Jane Bennet, looking shocked -- back to her room.
F. Darcy, looking -- right into Jane Bennet.
Elizabeth watched with interest as Darcy turned a little reddish and apologised to her sister. Served him right for not paying attention to what was in his way. And what had shocked Jane so? Wait -- Fitzwilliam had not gone into the ladies' room, had he? That was worth checking out.
F. Darcy, looking -- to my table.
Elizabeth hastily covered her sheet of paper and feigned an interest in the data for a her phonology paper. She could hear that Darcy sat down. What was he going to do? Read? Talk? But he did none of that. He just sat there. She was getting a little nervous, because she did not like to be forced to write this paper right now, but what else could she do? Look up and talk to him? She would rather talk to William Collins.
"Did you have a nice weekend, Dr Darcy?" William Collins asked.
Elizabeth raised her eyes a little. Surely that would be enough to make him flee?
"Yes," Darcy replied.
"I met Elizabeth's mother over the weekend," William went on.
"You didn't!" Elizabeth exclaimed. He had to be lying. Why was he making Darcy think that?
"I did. You weren't there. I talked to your mother for quite a while. She was really interested to hear that I'm Mrs De Bourgh's assistant. She wanted to know if I couldn't introduce you to any staff members."
Elizabeth's stomach turned. "You're making this up. Where would you meet my mother or indeed know it was my mother?" What would Darcy be thinking about this? Would he think that her mother was trying to throw her in the way of some teacher?
Darcy was now looking from one to the other with interest.
"I was out on an errand for Mrs De Bourgh. Isn't she your aunt, Dr Darcy?"
"Yes."
"She's an incredibly intelligent woman."
Darcy grimaced sourly, something that passed for a polite smile with him.
"But anyway, Mrs De Bourgh suggested that I try Dr Darcy if you were really looking for something to do. He does all his own typing."
"I'm sure he would prefer to go on doing his own typing," Elizabeth said somewhat coldly. "I'm sure I could not type to his satisfaction."
Darcy preferred to type himself, that was true, and he was not looking for a typist, but hey, this was Elizabeth and he would gladly change his habits and have her type for him. However, she did not seem very keen on the idea and it was perhaps better not to say that he would not mind to have somebody type for him. Besides, it would make his aunt think she could run his life and she could not. "That is right." He winced. That was a bit clumsily phrased.
"Your mother will be so disappointed," said William. "It's too bad Mrs De Bourgh doesn't need two typists, but you know, she said I do my work so well that she really doesn't need another person to help her out."
Darcy knew he had done the right thing. He would not have liked two women breathing down his neck. To be honest, Elizabeth's mother sounded like it was someone to stay away from.
"Will you just get lost, William?" Elizabeth asked. She was very embarrassed and Darcy seemed to be disgusted at the idea of taking on Elizabeth to help him.
"I was only trying to help. If that's what you want." William looked insulted and stalked off.
"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said to Darcy. "I don't know anything about this."
"I know." He stared at the table. "But in case I ever need assistance, I'll think of you." He also thought about her when he did not need assistance, but that was something he was not going to mention.
"There's no need. I assure you that I'm not looking for a typing job," she said hastily. "I don't know if William really spoke to my mother or if he made it up, but I distance myself from anything that my mother did or did not say."
Actually Darcy knew the feeling of wanting to distance himself from his relatives' words and opinions and he smiled a little.
Elizabeth looked past him at the ladies' room. "You don't happen to know where Mr Fitzwilliam went?"
He turned, but there was nothing to see. "That's not something young girls ought to wonder about."
"I am twenty-one!" she protested. Patronising jerk.
Or maybe he did want her to wonder, because that would mean she was open to wondering about such things with regard to himself. "But Mr Fitzwilliam is quite a bit older than that."
"Oh, I don't want him, but --"
"You've got to be the first," Darcy remarked, but he smiled.
"Well, the second. After Professor B****ley?" Elizabeth asked archly. "Or am I mistaken and did I not just see her run away from Mr Fitzwilliam? I was wondering if they were now both in the ladies' room."
"Again, that's not something you should worry about. They're talking business."
"I rather think someone should come to the Professor's aid, since she didn't seem too keen on talking to Mr Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth rose.
"The Professor needs no help."
"Not from men, no, but I'm not a man." Elizabeth walked towards the ladies' room and opened the door. Fitzwilliam was leaning against the washbasin. She paused and studied the two doors. Only one was locked. "There's no queue in the men's w.c.," Elizabeth informed him.
"Oh, you're the second woman who wants me out," he answered sadly. "Women are cruel." He advanced two steps in her direction and gazed at her earnestly.
Elizabeth took a step backwards. "Umm..." What did he want?
"It's very difficult to find a good woman."
Elizabeth was bewildered. "Uhh?" she asked.
"I might seem to be in a privileged position, but I'm having a hard time finding a woman."
"Oh, really?" Elizabeth managed to squeak. She had not asked for these confidences. Why was he telling her this?
"I cannot help but pay some attention to brains. You cannot really show yourself here with -- well, you know what I mean."
"And what is accepted for someone in your position nowadays? Wouldn't a professor do?"
Fitzwilliam nodded. "If there only was some young and beautiful female professor around, eh? I mean, the department is full of young and handsome male lecturers just waiting for her. Wouldn't you agree?"
"S-S-Sure," Elizabeth said. "But I wouldn't really know what those young and handsome male lecturers are waiting for. However, I thought young and handsome men would be more interested in even younger women. I'm not sure I would consider anything over thirty young -- or perhaps thirty-five. I might consider that middle-aged. So is the department really full of young and handsome lecturers in that case? From your perspective I'm very young, but from my perspective you're very old. How old are you, if I may be so bold to ask?"
"I am not going to reveal my age if you're threatening to call me middle-aged," said Fitzwilliam. "And I hope you're not going to tell the Professor you think I'm middle-aged. Tell her I'm a young God."
"Why?"
"Because that would make her a young Goddess. And tell her that if she doesn't believe that I'm a young God with brains, she ought to get away from her books once and come to my house for an intellectual chat."
Chapter 17
Elizabeth walked away snorting because Fitzwilliam thought he was a young God with brains. Charles was an exception -- though perhaps this modesty was an act to make people like him -- but all other men in the department had quite a high opinion of themselves. Perhaps it was a little justified in Fitzwilliam's case, although he displayed a considerable lack of admirability if he wanted, desired and craved Professor Bingley.
Darcy was still waiting for her. Did he not have anything better to do? Oh right, education was government-funded, which made teachers some kind of civil servants, she supposed. But that did not give him any right to snuffle through her papers. Argh! He was looking at her observation list. "Umm...what are you doing?" she exclaimed.
"Interesting," Darcy remarked, putting the list back. "First name unknown, eh?"
"I don't want to know it," Elizabeth replied archly. "I'm sure it would give you a trauma if you revealed it. On second thought, do reveal it. I'm interested."
Darcy looked at her as if he was weighing things off against one another. "No," he said finally. "Unless you agree to have dinner with me."
"Eeeeeeeew!" Elizabeth cried in shock.
Darcy was baffled. "Eew?" What was there about him and his offer that warranted such a disgusted scream?
Elizabeth tried to stay flippant, but she was very puzzled. "Come on! Nobody would consent to have dinner with you! You never say anything. My answer is no. I'd rather go through life not knowing your first name than having to go through the ordeal of dining with you in total silence. I hope you don't mind?"
Darcy swallowed. He liked her too much to take this as an insult, because he did recognise the truth in her words.
"Besides," Elizabeth continued. "We both know you don't really want to take me out to dinner and that your offer was only inspired by the need to be gallant. You were a perfect gentleman and you gave me a choice when there really was no choice. I have to applaud it. It was skilfully done."
Darcy was perplexed. Was she insulting him or not and should he feel insulted at all? He did not know how to interpret this ambiguous compliment. But she was smiling at him.
"I could be mistaken," Elizabeth said politely. "But I was under the distinct impression that you were teaching one of the 20th C Dutch Pretentious Crap seminars at 11:00." She did not know why she should be aware of this information if she was not taking the course and when Darcy seemed to have forgotten it himself. But it was 10:58.
"Uhh...ohh...that's right," Darcy realised. "It's very good of you to remind me." He looked at his watch and winced. He was going to arrive in class all breathless. Bah.
Richard Fitzwilliam was still hovering outside the ladies' room, but a look at his watch had told him that he had a class coming up -- one of the 20th C Dutch Pretentious Crap seminars. With regret he went to his room to collect his coat and bag.
He was caught up with by a running Darcy near the front door. "Don't you want to hear the news?" he inquired, holding Darcy back by one of the tail flaps of his coat.
It worked. Darcy halted and turned back. "Which news?"
"I finally kissed a woman with brains."
"Congratulations!" Darcy said with some reserve. "Why is this different from kissing brainless women?" He supposed Richard was talking about Caroline. When had this happened?
Fitzwilliam sighed. "Brainless women just love me. They have no rational voices to warn them about anything and they just follow their instincts. Women with brains think too much and they think I'm too good to be true, so they think I'm a cad."
Darcy wanted to give a sharp reply, but he could not come up with a good one. It would just bounce off Richard's thick skin anyway. He settled for something less. "If you can categorise brainless and brainy women and their kissing behaviour so well, doesn't it follow that you kissed far too many women and that you are a cad?"
"The world is not made up of nerds and cads alone," Fitzwilliam answered in a slightly offended voice. "I'm a normal, healthy guy. Cads are dishonest and I have never been dishonest with any woman. My reputation always preceded me so they knew what was what before they engaged in a kiss with me. Except this woman with brains. She's read too many books about cads and that's lethal. I've had to use a little coercion on her."
"Richard, it's my ex you're talking about. You don't have tell me about her attitude. I'm aware of it." Darcy was a little miffed by the implication that he was a nerd. If he had wanted to be a nerd, he would have gone to a different university.
"However, I'd like to think that I can accomplish a change in attitude," Richard said optimistically. "We're made for each other. What about your girl? Made any progress yet? You should try asking her out to dinner."
"Right," said Darcy bitterly. "And then she'll laugh and say no because I talk too little."
Fitzwilliam laughed heartily. "Really, Darcy! You come up with the most bizarre excuses so you won't have to ask her. Nobody's going to turn a man down because he talks too little. What happened to her mouth? She can keep the conversation going. But really, if you don't ask her, nothing's going to happen. You're twenty-eight and she's about twenty. Nobody would be shocked."
Professor Bingley wrote a very astute and brilliant analysis of a series of love poems. They had lain on her desk for six months, waiting to be analysed, but she had never found the right approach and insight so far, although she had attempted it every day. Literature and empathising with characters had never been her strongest point, but sometimes it could not be avoided.
Jane caught herself slipping very dubious sentences into the preparations for her Dutch grammar class.
Hij dumpte me zomaar- He dumped me just like that.
Wie dumpte me? - Who dumped me?
Wie dumpte hij? - Who did he dump?
Waarom dumpte hij me? - Why did he dump me?
Waar dumpte hij me? - Where did he dump me?
Wanneer dumpte hij me? - When did he dump me?
Hoe dumpte hij me? - How did he dump me?
Wat deed hij met me? - What did he do to me?
Because she really could not call it anything other than dumping. He was ignoring her! He looked away if they passed each other in the corridor and he said nothing. It was as if he did not know her anymore. And Jane was not the type to go to Charles' room to demand an explanation.
Professor Bingley was no help either. She would make sympathetic noises, but her attention would be completely focused on whatever article or book she was reading. Jane had concluded that the Professor did not give a damn about anyone's love life unless it was a literary character or a lexical category. Jane was not used to such insensitive people and she had been a bit hurt, because if Professor Bingley had had a heartache, Jane would have listened to her. But she drew the line at being classed inferior to the romantic entanglements of adjectives and nouns, and the fact that adjectives sometimes got an E at the end to please their beloved noun.
However, Jane recognised that Professor Bingley might have a valuable point when she said women were nouns and men were useless adjectives.
Charles was an adjective. Nouns had adjectives that bent over backwards -- also known as inflection -- in order to please them, but women could not say the same about men. A man with inflection was well-dressed and Charles obviously only inflected himself if the noun Jane wanted to be modified by him. Without Jane he appeared in his uninflected form.
This meant that Jane only had to give off some modify me signal, according to Professor Bingley's theory. But the Professor herself had said that men were not entirely comparable to adjectives, because one had to beware of men in the dative case -- given one finger, they took your whole body -- and they had some sort of memory for dativeness, so it did not automatically end when they were separated from their noun.
Jane thought that it was perhaps no wonder that the Professor was single, because nobody could follow a word she said.
Dutch did not even have a dative case.
But perhaps the Professor had a bottle of liquor in her desk.
Chapter 18
Darcy had now got a taste of what it was like to talk to Elizabeth, even if she had treated his dinner proposal as a joke. The experience begged for more. "I have a friend," Darcy began when he had stopped her in the corridor one day. He had conceived of a perfect scheme. All that was needed now was Elizabeth's co-operation. "A Dutch friend and he doesn't speak any English."
Elizabeth began to suspect something here. Dutch men who did not speak any English could never ever be friends of Darcy's. But she did not yet know what it was that she suspected, except that it was fishy. He spoke too soft.
"I remember that you wanted a Dutchman -- to marry, or something. Your Dutch has improved so much that I wondered if you'd mind taking my friend out to dinner -- on a blind date, you might call it."
"A blind date," Elizabeth repeated in astonishment. Darcy of all people was trying to set her up on a blind date? She had thought he was the one person to despise of blind dates. And why had he not seen she had been joking about Dutch farmers?
"He's twenty-eight."
As if that would make a blind date more appealing! Was Darcy blind? Stupid? "That doesn't matter! He's still blind!" she exclaimed. "I mean -- the date is still blind!"
"But he doesn't know anyone here. All his dates would be blind," Darcy protested.
"Why can't you take him out to dinner? He's your friend."
"I'm not a girl."
"I don't see why that matters for a simple dinner. He's pathetic, isn't he? Some kind of loser. Oh! I bet he's a horrible loser and you don't want to spend time with him yourself." This could not be happening to her. Dr Darcy was setting her up with a nerd friend of his.
"No, he's not a pathetic loser. He's very nice. Listen. I can't dine with him every day. He must have some diversions. And since you're just about the best at speaking Dutch at the moment...It would also be a great exercise."
"I'd rather not practise on a nerd." It was a very fishy business and Elizabeth did not really trust him, but again her curiosity won out. "I suppose I could always leave him at the restaurant and go home if it becomes too much..."
Darcy looked relieved. "I promise you that it won't have to come to that. Will you do it?"
"Can I think about it?" Elizabeth asked. "I'm rather particular about whom I dine with if it's just me and him. I need to be reassured that the evening will be bearable. And why would I do this in the first place?" She was under no obligations to him. That she was even considering it was amazing.
"Because I'm asking you politely," Darcy replied calmly.
Elizabeth had decided that she would ask Professor Bingley, for two reasons. One, she needed somebody else's opinion and Jane was not available. And two, Professor Bingley seemed to want to know what was going on in the department. She would want to know what Darcy was up to and she would interfere if it sounded as fishy as Elizabeth thought it was. She certainly did not want some angry reaction afterwards.
"I say you go," the Professor said cheerfully. She saw nothing wrong with the idea. It was only Darcy's friend, not himself, and the policies would not be saying anything about that.
"What if he's awful?"
"One must learn how to deal with awful dinner partners," the Professor said sternly. "Did you think all my colleagues at other universities were my personal friends?"
Elizabeth had never imagined the Professor to have any personal friends, so no, she did not think the colleagues at other universities were that. She shrugged. It was more a result of the Professor's own behaviour, because she was not unkind if she was not indifferent. She was shocked to admit that she liked the woman a little, despite or because of her bizarre attitude.
"I have to dine with them occasionally," Professor Bingley said with regret. "There are fewer than five who can actually behave, who are good company. Be firm."
"What does Darcy think he's doing?" Fitzwilliam asked Professor Bingley when she related the story to him.
She looked at him in wonder. "I don't know what you mean."
Fitzwilliam tried to think of a suitable literary work with a similar plot to explain it to her, but he could not come up with anything. "I smell a rat," he said curtly. Darcy was being a bloody dishonest fool, if anyone asked him, but it was not his job to keep his younger cousin out of trouble. The man was intelligent enough -- but perhaps not mature enough -- to realise such things himself. "What I came to see you about was this..." He placed a few sheets before her. One had to win Caroline's intellectual respect first before she would condescend to feel.
"The Professor says I should be firm -- I suppose that means in case he tries anything," Elizabeth reported to Darcy. "But she has no objections."
He looked stunned. "You asked her?"
"Don't I need her permission?" she asked innocently. "I'd rather not upset your boss."
"Does that mean you'll do it?"
"Once again, I think it's very strange that you don't go out with the nerd yourself, but yeah, I'll do it. Only because of the practise it will afford me." And because she was curious about the sort of friends he would have. He was not a girl, he had said. Perhaps that was significant. The friend might like girls while Darcy liked boys -- after his smile at Fitzwilliam Elizabeth had still not seen anything point to the contrary. She could see why the friend might not want to dine with Darcy. Poor Darcy, actually. Pity softened her heart somewhat. The friend might not even be a nerd. No, he would be a normal guy and straight. It might not be such a burden to go out to dinner with him.
Chapter 19
Elizabeth giggled endlessly throughout her preparations for her blind date. It was more from nerves than that she genuinely thought it a funny situation. Maybe this friend of Darcy's would prove to be a real jerk or a bore and to leave him alone in the restaurant without even having paid for her dinner was something that her conscience would not let her do.
It might be just like that friend of her mother's who had gone walking through Wales with a man she did not know. This had turned into a veritable Holiday of Horrors. Any clichés about male chauvinist boorish behaviour that one could possibly come up with had applied in this case and yet the friend of her mother's had not been able to desert her travelling companion because that would have been cruel -- he happened to have left his wallet at home.
Elizabeth only needed to put on some different clothes. She was not the type to pay a lot of attention to her appearance and she was satisfied enough with her looks not to bother with make-up. All this meant that she could be ready in a very short time.
Because it was a blind date, she would not be picked up at home, but she would meet her dinner companion somewhere in town. He would be sitting on the edge of the fountain. She giggled in anticipation at the idea that there might be more young men sitting on the edge of the fountain all by themselves. Would she have to ask all of them if they were waiting for her? You could trust most guys to reply yes just to be annoying, in which case she would perhaps go to dinner with five or six guys.
It was a bit difficult that she did not know the guy's name, but then she remembered that he did not speak English. Allegedly, because how Darcy could be friends with anyone who had not had any English in school was something incomprehensible. Everyone in the Netherlands would have had it at school and Darcy would not be friends with someone who had not gone to school, because they simply would not have anything in common.
That was only one of the fishy aspects of this date. There were others too, but she could not find answers to any of her questions.
Maybe that's him, thought Elizabeth of every young man of roughly twenty-eight years of age that she encountered walking through the main shopping street. They were all going in the opposite direction, of course, but that needed not signify anything, because this uneducated Dutchman might have lost his way. However, if anyone should ask her "waar is de fontein?" she would reply "hier," because there would be very little point in going to the fountain to meet all over again.
It was amazing that so many familiar people walked this street. She prayed that they would all be out of sight once she started picking up guys at the fountain. That was not one of her habits and people might be shocked. It was always possible that some woman from back home would be here on a shopping day trip and report back to her mother. People always seemed to report back to her mother and always such odd things too.
She suppressed a bad word and an exasperated sigh when she came onto the square where the fountain was. Who had had the nerve to unload fifty busloads of young men here? It was very crowded and there was not a girl in sight. What was this? Elizabeth did not stop to wonder what sort of gathering or club this was, but concentrated on practical matters. It would be tough to find the Dutchman. Perhaps he would be scared away by this crowd. And where was the bloody fountain?
Angrily she poked a boy in the ribs when he addressed her too lovingly. Did they not have any decency? After pushing through the masses she arrived at the fountain, finally, only to find two familiar faces there.
Charles Bingley and Richard Fitzwilliam sat on the edge of the fountain eating a Happy Meal, proudly clutching their Happy Meal toys.
Understandably, this threw Elizabeth for a loop. She stopped and stared.
Fitzwilliam guiltily pocketed his Happy Meal toy, but Bingley felt no shame.
"Hi," said Elizabeth when she felt she had been gaping at them for far too long. But it was not them she had come to find, so she could not stay and talk to them either. She sat down on the other side of the fountain, wondering if her Mystery Man was in place yet. How could she start asking around if Bingley and Fitzwilliam were there? What an undesirable turn of events. Mystery Man would leave if she did not show up -- but she had shown up, so he could come to her. Unless he knew Fitzwilliam and Bingley too. In that case things might be awkward. She wished she had never said yes to Darcy.
Bingley appeared, having finished his Happy Meal. "What are you doing here all by yourself?" he asked. He knew, but he could not say that, naturally. He and Fitzwilliam were not there by accident. No, it had been a carefully planned manoeuvre and Fitzwilliam had needed an accomplice. Bingley knew Fitzwilliam had first tried Caroline, but she had refused because she had something to do that was more interesting. For his part, Bingley did not see why one should have to busy oneself with intellectual matters all day and then continue doing so at night. He liked to be silly in the evening to counterbalance the seriousness that was required of him during the day.
"I'm...er...waiting." Elizabeth wished he would go. Now Mystery Man would never think she was waiting, if she was already talking to someone.
"For Darcy?"
"No!"
Bingley looked puzzled. He had seen something she had not. "What's he coming here for then? We're not expecting him. Why is everyone we know suddenly taking over our favourite spot?" he asked Fitzwilliam, who had come to stand beside him, also looking down at Elizabeth with interest. They both looked angelically innocent.
"Nobody knows we were here," Fitzwilliam said. "There are too many people blocking us from view. They must have a purpose. Hey Darcy," he greeted his cousin.
Elizabeth studied Darcy, who was coming closer with his hands in his pockets. He probably came to tell her that Mystery Man was not coming. Or, because it was well past their meeting time, to make sure she and Mystery Man had gone to the restaurant. He carefully avoided her eyes when he greeted Fitzwilliam and Bingley, in a rather curt manner. He did not greet any Mystery Men, so Elizabeth was puzzled. She lay back on the edge of the fountain and stared at the sky. It was slowly getting dark and the colours were pretty. She gave up trying to understand and left matters to Darcy. He was going to say something to her before he left, she assumed. That would be polite. But this was Darcy, so one should not expect too much, perhaps.
Chapter 20
Elizabeth sensed there were some unspoken messages going back and forth between the three men. She did not care what they were communicating, as long as someone would tell her what had happened to her blind date.
"He couldn't make it," Darcy said finally. "In fact, he never even left Holland."
"Why are you setting me up with unreliable people?"
Darcy winced under her criticism, but he only made things worse when he spoke next. "I lied. I have no friend."
"I'm not surprised that you don't have any friends!" Elizabeth said cattily. "But how can you set me up with people who don't exist? To have a good laugh at how I wait for him?"
Darcy became proud and silent. "I exist," he said tersely.
"In an abnormal way!"
Bingley and Fitzwilliam were not going away now. They wanted to watch this until the end. Darcy was being turned down, but they both had some experience in being turned down themselves and so they could sympathise.
"I'm sorry to give you that impression," Darcy said coldly, but he was confused. She did not seem to have made the connection between his appearance and the fact that his friend did not exist. She did not seem to know that he had been the friend. Maybe she was only upset that he had lied and she could be pacified with an invitation to dinner. "Look, I'll pay for your dinner then."
"Who says that's what I want?" Elizabeth retorted.
"You're going to have to eat."
That was true and Elizabeth considered the offer. "Only if you go and get some takeaway so I can eat it here." She did not want to be seen with him.
Fitzwilliam snickered. "Get some more for us as well while you're at it."
"Takeaway?" Darcy curled his lips in disdain.
"Happy Meal?" If Bingley had had a tail he would have wagged it. "Get four and give us the toys."
"Do I look as if I have four children?" Darcy looked shocked. What were people going to think if he bought four Happy Meals? "I'm not that old!"
"No, you're twenty--" began Bingley, whose intention it was to calculate at what age Darcy would have had to start if he had had four children, but he was interrupted.
"Don't say it!" Darcy cried in a panic. Bingley would ruin everything if he said twenty-eight. Elizabeth would make the connection and while he had first wanted to confess, her reaction had scared him out of doing so.
"Geez, Darcy," Bingley said in surprise. "Don't be so full of yourself. Do you think I would remember more than the first digit of your age when I can't even remember any digits of my sister's age?"
"And one changes every year," Fitzwilliam remarked. "What a drag to keep up with that, eh Charles? It's no shame. She would kill you if you did. But it's amazing that you don't know. Is your past an absolute blank? Don't you remember anything of your childhood, such as that your sister was three years ahead of you in school?"
"She probably skipped a few years in school," said Charles, but it set him thinking all the same. "I do have vague recollections."
"He has vague recollections of a female child living in his house," Fitzwilliam mocked.
"Two female children, actually. And what of my Happy Meal, Darcy?" Charles asked. While Darcy went to get the food, he could think about his recollections. One had to be efficient.
"Three years?" Darcy spoke up. "Only three?"
"Go get our food, Darcy," Bingley urged him. He could not do two things at once. It was impossible that he answered Darcy's questions while he was thinking. "Make yourself useful." Darcy was really useless when it came to handling women. Why could he not just have asked the girl out instead of going the elaborate route?
Darcy left reluctantly and only because he feared Elizabeth might disappear if he waited too long.
"It might also have been four years," Bingley recalled. "How come you know this so well, Richard?"
"I make it my job to discover such intimate details about a person. It's only a matter of looking into her wallet, which is, as you might know, an easy task. I believe you could even undress the woman without alerting her to the fact -- you have carte blanche as long as she's studying an interesting article."
"Have you ever tried?" Bingley asked, intrigued.
"No, but maybe I should," Fitzwilliam smirked and then checked himself when he remembered Elizabeth. He was a respected member of the teaching staff, talking disrespectfully about an even more respected member of the teaching staff. Somehow people would think it strange, but he was only human.
Elizabeth was staring that them with wide eyes. They were not behaving like proper lecturers at all -- improper lechers was more like it. "Do you have any idea what is going on here?" she asked. Probably not, but it was worth trying.
"Not really," Fitzwilliam lied. "We were only having a snack here."
"Just let him buy something to eat and enjoy that," Bingley suggested. "It's a free meal. Don't think about Darcy too much. He does enough of that himself. Just enjoy the fact that he's forced to eat a Happy Meal." He grinned and gave Fitzwilliam a high five.
"Four Happy Meals," Darcy whispered when it was his turn to order. He was embarrassed. It was busy in here.
"I beg your pardon?" said the girl behind the counter. She could not hear what he was saying.
"Four Happy Meals," he said a little louder this time, hoping that nobody in the queue behind him would hear him ordering. Was that a snicker? He turned his head nervously, but nobody seemed to be laughing at him.
But it turned out his order was nothing out of the ordinary. "Which ones do you want?" the girl asked in a business-like manner, pointing at the three different versions of the toys -- one for boys, one for girls and one for men.
"One of each and two of those," Darcy gingerly pointed at the last one.
He carried the food back to the fountain, where Fitzwilliam and Bingley put up a little fight over the toys.
Elizabeth was finally able to think properly as she chewed on her food. Darcy's friend had not come, but Darcy had and he had said there was no friend. What if they were one and the same? Food tasted badly all of a sudden and she put it down. He had got her here under false pretences. That was despicable. "I've discovered your wicked plot!" she exclaimed. "You're the friend!"
"Yes," Darcy admitted calmly. Why should he deny it? It was the truth.
She had not expected that. "I can't believe you'd admit it! It's disgusting! Argh!" What for? What had been his motivation? She did not want to think about it. At the moment she only wanted to be angry and disgusted and to vent her feelings, although that desire was naturally restrained by the fact that she was constantly being taught by these people and that she did look up to them a little -- well, she had looked up to them before they had begun to fight over toys and begun to lie about friends they did or did not have.
"Listen..." If he could explain himself, she would perhaps understand his reasons, but Bingley and Fitzwilliam were in the way and their ears had grown to about twice their normal size already. They would become even bigger if he started to confess his secret.
"No! Never again. I can't believe I was so stupid that I went along with your scheme." Elizabeth dumped her half-eaten Happy Meal in his lap. "There! I don't want to eat anything you paid for." She threw her toy in the fountain and ran away.
Darcy stared in horror as his trousers were soiled by the disgusting, greasy food and to top all that he got wet as Bingley and Fitzwilliam all but jumped into the fountain to get to the toy first. Nothing went well today.
Chapter 21
Darcy, by some people thought to be an intelligent man, had correctly assumed that he had screwed up this opportunity to become better acquainted with Elizabeth.
He, by other people thought to be a stupid man, would not accept Fitzwilliam and Bingley's sympathy, because their situations were not as hopeless as his. Nobody's situation was as hopeless as his and he wallowed in his misery.
One of the side effects was that he was beginning to experience some problems with his ability to come up with ties that matched his suits, something that was avoided by men who knew themselves and wore sweaters because of it. However, Darcy had to get to know himself all over again, being slightly -- or, depending on the moment, violently -- in love and understandably this was accompanied by a temporary fashion disability.
"A big blow to the ego," concluded Professor Bingley, who thought that the blow was punishment enough. She had got wind of it somehow. "But really, Darcy. I hadn't thought that after I broke up with you, you would turn to young girls on the rebound."
Darcy was slightly offended. "Remember that I'm younger than you and that men are always a few years older than their wives." That always seemed to be the case, although he had no idea why it was like that. He did not care -- it was a convenient argument.
"That is because only young girls are naive enough to be an easy prey," the incorrigible Professor countered calmly.
"Bah," said Darcy, who sometimes got fed up with her superior attitude. "I'm convinced that deep down you have some really bad, suppressed desire to be nice to a man."
"You didn't succeed in convincing me that the man was you." Professor Bingley had never before revealed that she was actually full of romantic ideals and that she always read the horoscopes in the magazines in the supermarket. For next week, both your horoscope and his horoscope had predicted agreeable things, but only if he was a Pisces too, otherwise it would not work. But as long as she did not know who he was, she could not know if he was a Pisces. "You're not a Pisces."
"You're making fun of me because my argumentation is weak, aren't you?" Darcy asked uncertainly.
"Darcy, I think you should take that course. What's it called again? Humour something. Ah! Humour, Seriousness and Tone Differences. I think you should learn to distinguish what is said in earnest and what isn't. It isn't so very difficult where I'm concerned." In fact, it was usually the exact opposite of what Darcy's interpretation was.
Darcy knew his sense of humour could benefit from some brushing up, but he also knew that in Caroline's case that might not have any effect and so he left her to herself. At the photocopying machine he encountered Jane. The two of them seemed to be the only two people to make copies, because it was not the first time that he saw her there. A look at one of her sheets filled him with a certain feeling of recognition. "Your examples are very depressing."
Jane gave him a sad smile. "Yes, 'fraid so," she murmured.
He hardly dared to ask her. "Are they...from personal experience?"
"Yes."
"I know how you feel," Darcy blurted out in an unfamiliar display of spontaneity. "Shall we go for a drink?"
Jane looked at him gratefully. "Thanks, F. That was just what I needed."
"Why do you call me F.?" Darcy asked. He was a little surprised.
"Because that's all I know of your first name. Such a personal offer warrants a more familiar name to address you by than just Darcy. Even Professor Bingley makes no secret of being Caroline."
"Well," Darcy considered. "Depending on how well we hit it off, I might tell you the rest of my first name. Look, Jane --" He would have preferred to say Miss Bennet, because of the other person who bore that name, but he was afraid that he would have some display over his head that told Jane exactly what he was thinking. "You wouldn't tell if I told you, would you?" he asked in a worried voice.
"That depends on well we hit it off," Jane answered.
The general populace assumed Darcy and Jane were discussing exams or something like that over a drink, or perhaps that the friendly Jane was teaching Darcy some manners, but in fact they were talking about the obstacles they encountered on the road to true love.
Had Professor Bingley ever even taken any steps towards this road, she might have liked to be there, but as it was, she had consistently ignored its existence and she was now sitting at a table all by herself, drinking her daily two glasses of wine to increase her IQ by 3%, but even those two glasses could not make her understand what Darcy was doing here with Jane. She contemplated a third, having arrived at the university by bus anyway.
"Do you mean that girls would never accept such an offer?" Darcy asked when Jane told him what had caused Charles' coldness. "There have to be girls who move in with a man after only a day."
"Well, I wouldn't," Jane answered.
"Is that your upbringing?" Darcy sneakily tried to find out what Elizabeth's opinion on the matter was, but perhaps his mind had jumped rather too quickly from dinner to cohabiting. He briefly considered that thought, but then dismissed it. He was going into his second year of knowing this girl. Of course he had the right to think about cohabiting.
"A little, maybe, though my sister would be much quicker about it than I am once she's made up her mind -- I think."
Well, in that case Darcy would only have to get Elizabeth to make up her mind. It sounded simple, but it was not. However, it was a relief to know that once they were on good terms, she would not dump him because he asked her to live with him -- if Jane was right, but why should Jane not be right?
Elizabeth had thought about telling Charlotte, since that was her best friend, but before she could, Charlotte had a revelation for her. She was now officially dating William Collins.
Elizabeth decided she could be honest with her friend. Charlotte knew what she thought of William and she would not be fooled if Elizabeth congratulated her. "Eew. He's got the sense of humour of a rabbit."
"I didn't know rabbits had one."
"Exactly! I mean, dogs sometimes seem to smile, but rabbits never do! How can you date someone you can't laugh with?"
"Uhh well, we have very serious discussions..."
"Eew. I don't have anything against those," Elizabeth hastened to say. "But you should have reasons for laughing too. I mean, otherwise a person could just as easily date Darcy. Superficially seen there's nothing the matter with him, but once you get peeks into to his humourless core, oh boy, beware."
Charlotte frowned. "And did you ever get peeks into to his humourless core?"
Could she admit it? Was she actually speaking the truth or did she just like to speak about Darcy -- unfavourably, naturally. "Uhh, no. Not really. A little. So. Why do you like William?" The subject had to be changed.
"He's very sweet."
"Ugh...huh."
"He's nice to me."
"Oh, okay. Maybe you could get him to wash his hair more often by taking showers with him," Elizabeth suggested and then realised that it sounded rather bad. "Don't take that the bad way. It's only constructive criticism."
"I'm not offended," Charlotte replied quietly. "I know you don't know what you're talking about. Be realistic, Elizabeth. You probably never had a boyfriend, right? So you don't understand a thing. You just enjoy focusing on a person's bad traits. You might actually find something about Darcy that you like, since he and William are the two people you criticise the most. If one isn't as bad as you think, then what about the other?"
Chapter 22
Elizabeth did not see Darcy for a while. Perhaps he was out of the country. It might be that he took the upper corridor while she took the lower one, but it any case, they never met. Later on, she sometimes saw him from afar, but he always seemed to be in a hurry and his hair seemed to grow quite long, being in too much of a hurry to visit the hairdresser too, no doubt.
But this thought was quickly suppressed when Elizabeth remembered Charlotte's criticism that she only focused on people's bad sides. She did not! But in Darcy's case it was actually quite hard to focus on his good sides. As she thought about a reason for that, she realised that this was a very bad argument. Include this in an essay and it would be mowed down mercilessly.
Perhaps she should treat Darcy as a subject for an essay and consider him very logically. Her thesis statement would be: Darcy has no good characteristics.
Would it hold? A tentative glance at the possible topic sentences in her mind told her that it would not hold, since it was a rather personal judgement and she would be withholding information from the reader. Would that be bad if she was trying to argue a certain point? She was allowed to take up a position, was she not? Or maybe she should analyse both his good and his bad points and draw some conclusion.
It was too easy to exclude good points in such a case, or talk around them. No, it would not work. Besides, it was rather a lot of work to write a whole essay about Darcy. What would people think? You wrote essays only if you were forced to and you certainly would not write them about people, unless you admired them very much or hated their guts, but certainly not if you were quite indifferent about them. Because that was how Elizabeth felt -- quite indifferent.
Another approach was needed. The topic was there and it had to be used. She could write a story about Darcy and have him get into a lot of mean trouble and so get her revenge on him -- for what, exactly? -- but again, to devote so much of her time to Darcy was rather suspicious and people might start to wave Freud -- or whoever -- at her.
No, she would calculate Darcy's score on the Eligibility List, since that was very rational, tangible and measurable and not coloured by any emotional judgements.
One -- his brain was obviously in good working order -- 5 points.
Two -- he was good-looking -- again 5 points. Or would it be 4.5? What did he look like again? She could not precisely recall his face.
Three -- he had a good height -- 5 points.
Four -- he had a good figure, otherwise -- 3 to 5 points, depending on how he would look in a swimsuit, but that was something she could not know.
Five -- would he be amusing enough to spend six hours on a train with? -- 2 to 3 points. He would perhaps be able to say something interesting, but if he was really entertaining was something that was impossible to say at this moment.
Six -- his age -- Elizabeth assumed that he would at least fall into the 27-29 category (3 points) or possibly even into the 30-32 category (2 points). Of course this was only his biological age, but to score him on the basis of his mental age would again be getting too emotional and would give him a -20 score, probably.
Seven -- his tastes -- his clothing was usually a good sign of that and it was alright, perhaps a bit too neat. There was always a danger that he found her too carelessly dressed, but on the whole it was the sort of clothing that appealed to her, not being artistic or with expensive brand names screaming at everyone -- at least 4.5 points.
Eight -- his not being a macho -- that was something she did not really know, so she supposed he must be worth at least a 3 if it was not obvious.
Nine -- his friendliness -- this was a difficult one, because she was inclined to give him 1 point until she remembered that he had escorted her in the middle of the night. Perhaps 3 points.
Ten -- his negative points. Elizabeth did not know whether he was very untidy, became aggressive if he drank too much, used drugs, drove too fast, if he was perhaps a religious fanatic, a terrible womaniser, or had any other habit she might have problems with -- she could not subtract any points, but ten categories were better than nine and for other guys she might be needing this one.
All in all it gave him a score of 34 out of 45, taking the average for the categories where she was not entirely certain. The score was not spectacular, but then she would have been shocked had he obtained a stunning result. It was somewhat of a relief, thought, because to Elizabeth it proved that she was able to judge Darcy very rationally and impartially.
Not that she was in any way interested in Bingley, but just to compare and test her objectivity, she calculated a score for Bingley too and came up with 32.5 points, because of a one-point penalty for treating Jane badly.
And she liked Bingley. It made Elizabeth wonder if there was something the matter with her that she rated perfectly intelligent good-looking and friendly creatures such as Bingley at a mere 32.5. Would anybody ever be able to score a 40 or so? Probably not, if she was so hard on men that her mother would think more than eligible. Bingley, although she would never fall in love with him, deserved at least a 40.
There was either something wrong with her test or with herself. Or perhaps with men in general. Fitzwilliam, whom she tried in order to find out more, scored a 35. He would have had more if he had not been such a skirt-chaser and if he had not been so old. Being more than twelve years her senior rather lowered his score. But then, one could also argue that Darcy's not being friendly lowered his score, so this was a rather useless excuse.
It would not do to show her test to someone who was not critical. Perhaps only a fellow sceptic would be able to shed some light on these meagre results, but then someone like Professor Bingley might be appalled that Elizabeth was wasting her time on something as trivial as this. However, a second opinion was vital to determine her outlook.
She took the test to Professor Bingley, having established a rather better relationship with the woman than in her first year, when the Professor was constantly frowning upon her.
"Do you think this is a bad test or do you think men are just destined to score below a 35?" Elizabeth asked her.
"Does this have anything to do with Dutch?" the Professor asked automatically, but having become a little more interested in matters other than Dutch recently, she glanced at the piece of paper anyway.
"I could translate it if you'd like that better. But I was wondering if you could come up with a man who scored more than 40 or if this is just a really bad test."
"You want me to --" the Professor frowned in disapproval. "I am working on an article and you want me to --" she sighed. "I have to justify my time, you know, and I can't write down comparing men's attractions. The Board would have serious problems with that. Any man would get away with comparing women's attractions, but in my case it'll be my downfall."
"Deliberation with student?" Elizabeth suggested. "Could you please calculate a score for Dr Bingley, Dr Darcy and Dr Fitzwilliam, as they seem to be the only three men we both know? They seem very eligible and yet they got very low scores. Perhaps because of their ages, I don't know."
Professor Bingley looked at the test and saw that Darcy would score 0 points because of his age, if she stuck to Elizabeth's scoring system. He was just a year too young. Fitzwilliam, on the other hand, would score a perfect 5. She winced when she sensed what the results would be. "Alright," she said after a while. "One of them scores a 35 and the other a 40, but I won't tell you who got what." Damn Richard. He could not be the most eligible man she knew, since that was what he always claimed to be.
"A 40?" Elizabeth repeated. "So this is actually a good test? And you only did two people? Not three?"
"I am not going to test my brother on his eligibility," Professor Bingley said decidedly. "And I don't know if this is a good test. I don't really like the results. Throw it away."