moralized | { psl: a longbourn christmas }

{ psl: a longbourn christmas }

[ The month of November carried on and the monotony of everyday life was broken up by the visits of Mr. Cartwright, who after being formally invited to Christmas dinner had surprised the elder Bennets by announcing his intention to perform a duet with Miss Bennet at the party. The pair practiced in the formal parlor with the door wide open and even the gossiping servants could find nothing imprudent to pass on. Every time they eavesdropped in, the pair spoke matter-of-factly on things such as tempo, chords, and movements. Mrs. Bennet could not bear to be in the same room as him and no entreaties to either husband or child to cancel this nonsense were given any serious thought. So she spent her days stewing in discontent and speaking on how ill used she was to her sister Mrs. Phillips, who of course told the whole town in her turn.

November faded away into December, and soon Mrs. Bennet was in a frenzy about the coming guests. There were arrangements to be made, arguments to be had, and eventually all was settled that the Bingleys and Darcys (including Georgiana) would all stay at Longbourn. It was a point of pride that Mrs. Bennet had room for all of them to stay comfortably, though it turned out that Miss Darcy would have to share Kitty's room with her. No matter, as the two girls were thick as thieves now and Mary had been spared from giving up her room to the young heiress thanks to Kitty's insistence that this was what Georgiana wanted. Having never had a sister, the young lady was excited to share quarters with someone who had become such a close friend.

The carriages arrived on Christmas Eve and after settling in, resting from the long journey from the last inn, and dressing for the occasion, the families gathered in the parlor to await their final guest as well as the dinner bell. Jane and Elizabeth were resplendent in expensive gowns, and Kitty and Georgiana were not far behind in their own. Mary wore her best gown, which she had worn to Lizzy's wedding. It was a soft green that was light enough that as she examined herself in the mirror she was reminded of Mr. Cartwright's eyes. Kitty insisted on weaving a cream colored ribbon through her hair for her and Mary thought it best not to protest in front of Miss Darcy, who agreed she looked lovely.

Now with all set, Kitty taps a foot upon the carpet and looks towards the door. "Where is this mysterious fellow?" she asks, sounding impatient. In truth, she appears about ready to burst out of her chair. Ever since her arrival home she's seemed different. Not simply more confident in herself and better behaved, but as though she is always on the verge of saying something, but then thinks better of it. Mary can only see it as a good thing that she's thinking before she speaks. ]

I am sure he is almost here.

[ He is not yet at the point of being considered late, as they have not been called to dinner. And Mary wonders to herself if this is Kitty eager to see a gentleman bachelor. The thought worries her a little. But Mr. Cartwright is a sensible man who does not flirt or gives consequence to those he feels is unworthy of his attentions. Perhaps Mary is being a bit harsh on her sister, or perhaps jealousy is rearing its ugly head again. ]

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( his eyes, shining with amusement like dewy grass in the early morning, catch miss bennet's brown eyes, flat and likely unamused with his scheme. but she will forgive him soon enough now that she is away from her sister's whinging. all of what has flowed from mrs. wickham's mouth is either bluster or a lament. her ability to maintain confidence despite her circumstances and lack of support is impressive.

meanwhile, miss darcy's skills at the pianoforte are truly impressive. the way she can easily play through mozart's piano sonata no. 16 is remarkable. it would not take much effort on her part to amaze a theatre full of people. that would be if she became determined to engage in the pianoforte as a profession, but atticus doubts that she would. for all her sense and grace, miss darcy lacks the defining trait needed for the world outside her sphere: independence. by that, meaning the self-sufficiency to build oneself up and the apathy to ignore opinions designed to tear one down. in many ways, miss darcy is still a girl — even now, her gaze flits from atticus's to her brother's as if she's seeking assurance or praise. it is a thought he never wanted to waste time entertaining, much less now when he should be enjoying and assessing her performance.

less than ten minutes later, miss darcy finishes the piece without any obvious errors and mrs. wickham finishes her grievance without any substance. when the room claps, they clap for miss darcy, not for mrs. wickham. and lest he forget miss bennet's skills at turning the page at the right moment. she performed her part well.

"you played very well, miss darcy. although the piece was a bit dry for my taste," mrs. wickham says, full of the gaucheness that so defines her. miss darcy forces a smile as she murmurs appreciation for the compliment and moves to rejoin atticus on the sofa. mr. darcy, who relaxed during his sister's performance, grounds his jaw while his wife grimaces. either from habit or willfully, the others appear to ignore mrs. wickham and converse amongst themselves.

atticus glances at mrs. wickham and shoots her a question intended to make her look foolish. not that she needs the help ) Do you play, Mrs. Wickham?

( she looks at him, smiling. "lord no. i have neither the temper or desire for it." )

Yes ( he agrees, nodding absentmindedly. )

[ It is clear that Miss Darcy is the superior musician present here tonight. Oddly enough, though Mary wishes to possess that amount of ease with new music, she cannot be upset at Miss Darcy for it. She was given proper instruction - the best money could buy, no doubt - while Mary never had any support at all. She and Lizzie had taught themselves, though the latter only ever did it for her own amusement and not for the challenge. And because of that difference Mary can be proud of herself for how far she's come.

Returning to the sofa to see Miss Darcy neatly slide into her former seat, she wishes she could be jealous of her performance because it would be so much simpler than being jealous about how the young lady seeks out Mr. Cartwright's attention. With no other choice, she seats herself in the chair Miss Darcy had previously taken and the conversation is quickly continued by Lydia.

"I have never given two straws about music, unless it is to dance with a handsome officer! I could never stand that droll nonsense Mary always used to play so badly!" Eyeing Mr. Bingley she suddenly addresses him directly. "Do you remember what a horrible performance she had at your ball? Lord, I laughed like anything and Papa had to make her stop before everyone's ears started to bleed."

That old wound reopening has Mary shutting her eyes and wishing this was all a nightmare. It had taken time and self reflection to come to terms with her behavior that day. But not only that, it was the day her father embarrassed her more than she had ever thought possible. To this day, she still is not sure if she deserved such public censure, but it pains her nonetheless.

The family reacts as one might expect to this dredging up of old events. Mr. Bingley gives a brief nod but says nothing while Jane looks ready to cry on Mary's behalf. Mr. Bennet pinches at the bridge of his nose, Kitty looks everywhere in the room that isn't eye contact with another person, and Mrs. Bennet merely chuckles along with her favorite daughter's reminiscing. After a brief glance of concern Mary's way, Elizabeth turns to her mother and quickly says: "You have not changed the decor in this room since last I was here. Did you not say you wished to change the upholstery?" Delighted at the conversation turning to a subject she could speak on for ages, Mrs. Bennet explains all her grand plans for the space as the mood in the room slowly stabilizes.

For her part, Mary remains silent with eyes shut as her lashes turn wet. Miss Darcy looks with worry at Mr. Cartwright, like she feels perhaps they should aid her somehow, but she doesn't wish to overstep her bounds. ]

( the pounding of his heart deafens him, but he was able to catch what mrs. wickham spat out well enough. atticus rubs his ear and his fingers curl into the palm of his hand. miss bennet's tears glisten in the dim light when he peers at her and he takes in a couple of calming breaths so he does not stand up and demand an apology from mrs. wickham. his eyes shift across the room, and the realisation comes to him at once that no one will speak in miss bennet's defence. they are all content to keep the peace under the guise of propriety when it is evident that this brings peace to no one. from what he has heard, it should not be surprising, but it's unacceptable nonetheless. fools, the lot of them. they share the blame for the humiliation mrs. wickham has brought upon miss bennet. no matter how much guilt they experience and how many tears they spill, they are just as cruel as mrs. wickham — nay, more so. because they do not have the excuse to claim witlessness as she does.

but it is not his place to say something. as much as he'd desire to stand up and call out their hypocrisy. anyways, would that help miss bennet? he worries it would only worsen her mood, and he cares more for her than for his anger. but if he cannot reveal his true feelings, what other option is there? distraction, which is what mrs. darcy chooses as she tries to engage her mother in another topic. but, although that may also pull mrs. wickham's attention, it does not dry miss bennet's tears and mend her hurt feelings. there is, however, a third option which combines the previous two.

a cold fierceness enters his gaze as he regards mrs. wickham. his voice is calm and still like the air before a tornado. ) Yet Miss Bennet performed wonderfully tonight. That should be commented upon; not one of long ago. Anyways, I believe, whether a performance is good or bad, it should be commended. For what other arena is there where one offers themselves and their soul for judgement? It should inspire us all to do better and try the same. ( his composure breaks a little as a wicked idea appears in his mind. )

In fact... ( trailing off, he stands and walks towards the pianoforte, confident in his step and expression. his violin rests atop the instrument but instead of picking that up to play, he sits down at the pianoforte. everyone watches him and holds their breath. if mr. cartwright is so talented on the violin, he must also possess some skill for the pianoforte, right?

he begins and his fingers, which are elegant on the violin, are awkward and uncertain across the ivory keys as he plays the opening chords. and then he sings, and it becomes immediately apparent that his voice is out of tune and rhythm, and will remain so for the entire song. it hardly takes any effort on his part. atticus is a violin virtuoso, but singing and the pianoforte are beyond his talents. it's a tale of two songs — the tune is the harpsichord portion of a vivaldi concerto, while the lyrics are a scottish drinking song about a man, a woman, and the sea. mrs. bennet and mrs. wickham burst into laughter when atticus pitches his off-key voice higher for the woman's verses while the others cringe. but they seem to understand his reasoning for this spectacle and tamper their grimaces during his performance.

when he finishes a blessedly two minutes later, everyone claps, most not for the music but out of gratitude for the gesture. mrs. wickham brays that it was a horrid performance and mrs. bennet vigorously nods in agreement. "much worse than mary's, good lord," mrs wickham mutters.

atticus bows and returns to his seat, still confident in his step and expression. he takes comfort in knowing that, despite what he did, he is not the greatest fool in the room. fortunately, by the time he sits back down, mrs. wickham's attentions have turned elsewhere and she and her mother are prattling on about some inane subject. the latest fashions from paris or whatever. the others have also moved on to other topics.

"that was um..." miss darcy stops and shifts in her seat, trying to think of a polite way to describe what happened. "an entertaining performance, mr. cartwright."

the corner of his mouth curls into a slight smile. ) That's very kind of you to say. Thank you. But I admit my skills on the pianoforte are lacking. Perhaps after the new year, Miss Bennet can provide some instruction. ( his smile widens when he looks at miss bennet. ) If you think me worthy of your time, that is. ( a chuckle bubbles in his words. )

[ In her youth, Mary was often too naive to take note of when she was being slighted, and as her mind matured and she became aware of it the effect was a sort of hardening of her heart. She convinced herself that she was better off without others in her orbit, for they hadn't reached her superior level of intellect and clearly had no desire to do so. She comforted herself with the idea that beauty faded quickly but the faculties of the mind endured far longer. But since her sisters' marriages there has come a thaw to Mary. Tentatively, like a late blooming flower has she been reaching outwards and upwards, towards the sun. Tonight she felt wonderful in her performance and her family's reaction was one she hadn't realized she could cherish. She hadn't believed she needed their praise, but it touched her heart regardless.

And then Lydia had arrived and it's a reminder of past hurts. A few years ago Mary probably would have attempted to think up an intelligent response. Something about Lydia being uncultured and unaware of the subtleties of the musical world. However, Lydia spoke truth in saying their father had had to make Mary stop playing and she would have no retort to such a sting. And so she sits with eyes shut as she tries to calm her soft heart. Trying to remember how to harden herself as she has before almost works until Mr. Cartwright's voice breaks through and her eyes fly open in utter surprise.

His movement to the pianoforte is followed with red-rimmed eyes as he seats himself and begins. What he produces is fumbling and poorly done right away and Mary exchanges a look with Miss Darcy as neither lady understands at first what he's doing. But when Mrs. Bennet and Lydia start cackling at his performance, she realizes this is for her benefit: a diversion from the cruel memories of her not so distant past. And the fact that he's making an absolute fool of himself causes a true smile to spread across her face. Mary doesn't outright laugh, but she's utterly diverted from her previous woes and finds she enjoys his silly antics. Naturally she does have moments where she cringes at a badly hit high note but it doesn't escape her notice how he doesn't care a wit how he'll be perceived for this. He lives his life with such freedom in all he does and says. As the song comes to an end and everyone claps, Mary feels a fluttering inside her the likes of which she's never felt before. It feels like an entire field's worth of butterflies are rapidly beating their wings inside of her.

By the time he addresses her, Mary has managed to compose herself and answer. ]

You jest, but I would instruct you if you were serious. Even that display is not enough for me to deem you hopeless. Besides, we both know you have a great deal of talent and your understanding of music means you could learn other instruments if your interest were to lie that way.

[ She very much doubts he will wish to, as a man has little need to pick up the pianoforte, but the image of them seated together at the instrument as she teaches him does enter her mind. ]

( at the sight of miss bennet's smile, atticus relaxes into the plush silk cushions of the sofa. if her mood had remained as before, he would have been forced to undertake more serious measures. what exactly is a question neither he nor anyone else will have to contemplate? perhaps he could've told a story from his travels. although he keeps his stories to paper and under a pseudonym, atticus is a talented raconteur even when speaking. perhaps miss bennet's continued unhappiness would have been justification enough to condemn mrs. wickham with sharper words. but that did not come to pass so there is little value in surmising about it. within the next few days, the wickhams will depart for newcastle and meryton will be free of their foulness once more. after that, if atticus still feels compelled, he will speak to mr. bennet about his daughter's behaviour, though he doubts it will do much good. if the scandal did not change his conduct then nothing will.

but, again, none of this has come to pass so there is little value in surmising about it. miss bennet and the atmosphere of the room is cheerful again.

atticus laughs. ) No, I am content to deprive the world of my genius. All here ( he gestures around the room with a flick of his wrist. ) should consider themselves fortunate to have heard it, for none shall again. No, no. I will leave the pianoforte and singing to the two of you.

( "but you have not heard either of us sing. how can you be so certain that we are able? or, indeed, would even want to?" miss darcy asks, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she tries to keep up with his teasing. )

With speaking voices so clear and lovely, your singing must also be so. I beg you not to disappoint me by suggesting otherwise, Miss Darcy. ( he turns to miss bennet, a mock frown pulling at his features. ) Come, Miss Bennet. We are friends, are we not? Don't be cruel to either of us and deny these claims.

[ His compliments do not seem to be in jest and after what he said to her before she accompanied Miss Darcy to the pianoforte, Mary is a bit at a loss to understand him. He thinks her pretty and in possession of a lovely singing voice? ]

This is too much praise, sir. I believe it possible that a singing voice can be flawed and the range at which one might sing is different than when one speaks. All I can say for myself is that I no longer sing when I perform, and I ask not to be persuaded otherwise. It is not false modesty on my part, but a genuine request to not be asked... by my friend.

[ The words come out far more easily than they once would have, when she would have tried to quickly plot out her words like the locations on a map towards her destination. These days her thoughts align more naturally instead of her needing to add a multitude of impressive adjectives to her speeches. ]

( he is not one given to false flatteries. but, indeed, atticus would contend that what he expresses are not compliments but facts. miss darcy and miss bennet are pretty and possess lovely speaking voices. praise, yes; factual, yes, but in the same way as a sunrise. a sunrise being pretty is an indisputable fact. just so for what he says to the ladies about their loveliness. atticus is of the belief that when one is in the presence of beauty — whether it be nature or human — it should be commented upon because it's fleeting, like footprints on the shore.

a chuckle catches in his throat, and he laughs again. ) I would never request such a thing that could provoke anxiety in anyone: friend or foe. Anyways, you have proven your talents enough on the pianoforte that you need not resort to singing. Likewise, I believe I have proven similarly for myself.

( miss bennet is not one given to false modesty, so he will trust that she is speaking honestly.

"i have been fortunate in that i have received vocal instructions for some time, but i still find myself too overcome with nerves to sing in front of others." miss darcy blushes. even in front of a small audience. and, like miss bennet, i too do not wish ever to do so." although it could be said that she is mimicking miss bennet, miss darcy is honest in her words. as a creature prone to shyness, she prefers to exhibit in front of others talents that she is confident of her abilities. miss darcy can only bare so much of her soul at one time.

atticus taps his fingers against the wooden armrest in a sign of approval. ) Hear, hear, Miss Darcy. Live a life as unrestrained of worry and anxiety as possible. That is what I say.

( and that is also how atticus endeavours to live his life — with little anxiety and concern for others' opinions. it has served him well over the past few years. now he can say with all honesty that he does not know why he allowed himself to be so scared and worried in his previous life. why? he did not care for those people's opinions nor did he even like them. so why bury oneself in anxiety for those who also didn't care or like him? no, no. life is too brief to do that. )

[ Mary wishes her excuse could be nerves and not a lack of talent at singing. But she gives a slight nod of her head in understanding towards Miss Darcy nonetheless. Something tells her that should the young lady ever try, she would dazzle the room the way she does with her musical skill. ]

Mr. Cartwright has a very wise view on things. I agree that to constantly consider how others view you and trying to be favorable to them causes little but an inconvenience to one's self. I took inspiration from him in choosing to stop worrying about it.

[ Her eyes linger on the man and there is clear admiration written there that Miss Darcy reads perfectly clear. Her expression in response to seeing it is mildly troubled, but she struggles to reply and in the silence Lydia yawns loudly and declares that she will go to bed until her dear Wickham returns. There is a bit of a panic on Mrs. Bennet's part as she's arranged the bedrooms so perfectly and now there is an extra guest. After looking around at each member, she finally says: "You will stay in Mary's room with her!" Both Mary and Lydia balk at the idea, though Mary does so only in her head as her face pales and Lydia groans loudly and declares she will not. There is a bit of arguing between mother and daughter before Mr. Bennet stands, glad to get out of the room with all this socialization and says, "My dear Mrs. Bennet, I can think of no better spot for your favorite child than your own apartment. Come now! Everyone to bed."

He doesn't have to say it twice. Everyone stands, ready to file out of the room and Mr. Bennet approaches Mr. Cartwright to shake his hand and thank him for coming. ]

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{ psl: a longbourn christmas }

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