“I believe you have been agreeably engaged in meditating on the very great pleasure of staring at a pair of fine …”
“Mr. Bennet, I must protest, sir!”
The man’s glance is one of perplexity. “ … landscapes, handsomely framed, and displayed upon our humble assembly room wall. I would appreciate hearing your learned opinion of our recently acquired paintings.”
I pick up my long-lost heart from my shoes and my jaw from the floor. I follow the man’s line of vision, finally notice a couple large Constables hung upon the far wall, and pretend the paintings have left me speechless. John Constable’s artwork may be capable of inspiring in-depth and protracted reflection, but my interest is feigned. Mr. Bennet shakes his head at my affectation and walks away.
Dear Lord, could this night be any more frustrating? Oh. One should never tempt fate.
Part II Of II
The set has finally ended, and the boar-pig is escorting Elizabeth to the tea room. I make haste in the same direction; but, alas, by the time I arrive, a gaggle of ladies has crowded around. Her sisters and friends are forming so close a confederacy that there is not a single vacancy near her which could admit another body. As I approach, one of the girls moves even closer to Elizabeth; and I hear the peagoose say, “The men shan’t come and part us, I am determined. We want none of them, do we?”
A girlish voice in my head sneeringly repeats her vexatious words.
Is it wishful thinking, or was that a wistful look Elizabeth just cast in my direction? Off I go to another part of the room and station myself so as to command a full view of her fair countenance. I watch every move she makes, envy everyone with whom she speaks, and take an ironic measure of comfort from the fact that if I cannot approach her, neither can other men.