There was a time my feet were so solidly planted
You’d sail away, while I turned my back to the sea.
I was content, a princess asleep and enchanted
If I had dreams, then I let you dream them for me.
Back in the days when everything seemed so much clearer
Women in white, who knew what their lives held in store
Where are they now, those women who stared from the mirror?
We can never go back to before.
---“Back to Before,” from Ragtime.
I didn’t have long to stew and reflect after Wolfgang’s letter, because just then, Ivy came thundering down the stairs, her whole face aglow and her eyes a-sparkle. (Is that a word? ‘A-sparkle?’ If it is, it would definitely be one of Haley’s favorites.) “Emma!” she cried breathlessly. “I”“ she paused. “Where did you get that shirt?” she asked, stopping in her tracks.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” I muttered, glaring down at the ‘Super Motts’ emblazoned on my chest. “Well? What’s up?”
Ivy sighed and sat down in a chair opposite me, looking for all the world like a fairy tale princess, albeit a pregnant and boringly-dressed one. “Ted wrote,” she said simply, her calm, quiet voice managing to express in two words all of the emotion that Haley would in five paragraphs, lots of screams, several hugs, all kinds of dancing and jumping up and down, a few lines of spontaneous singing, and the demise of a ceramic kitten or two. It was clear she’d come over to my house to ambush me the second I came home with this fantastic news.
“No kidding?” I snatched the letter out of her hand before she could even offer it to me. Honestly, I’m not sure she was going to”after all, the letter was rather personal, but I didn’t care. If Ivy didn’t want her private relationship with her husband out in the open, she wouldn’t be walking around with his baby sticking out of her belly.
This is what Ted’s letter said, for the most part. He’s just slightly dyslexic, so he has some trouble with spelling, and I’ll save you the trouble of deciphering his writing by editing his mistakes for him. There were also loads of cross-outs, ink-blots, and ugly margin doodles that I can’t really be bothered to replicate, but you get the general gist of it:
Dear Ivy,
How are you doing? I really, really hope you’re all right. Is your morning sickness any better? Are you eating okay? Emma isn’t being too mean to you, is she?
You probably think it’s so weird that I’m starting off the letter like this. I wanted to say I was sorry for not writing, but I couldn’t think of how to say it. I’ll try… I’m really, really, really sorry. Really really really. I‘m scared to think about how you must have felt the last couple weeks, especially since you’ve probably heard about the attack by now. I don’t have much access to what goes on in real life, so I don’t know what’s been happening in the wizard world lately.
There’s nothing to write with or write on down here at the camp (that’s what I like to call the place where I’m hanging out) and not much time for writing, either, but neither of those are good reasons. I’ve been trying really hard to blend in”and I’m not doing a very good job of it”and writing and doing other human stuff like that sort of bothers some of the other guys here”that’s not an excuse, either, though. My biggest problem is, it’s hard for me to explain what it’s like here. Every time I try, I just give up. It’s so weird here, and I don’t think I can do it justice.
Ivy, I will be honest with you. I wish I was home. I really, really wish I was home. I don’t like it here at all. I mean, I bet I’ll get used to it, and I bet I’ll make friends with the other werewolves, and get everyone’s trust, but it looks like all of this is going to take awhile.
It’s definitely different here. It took me a couple days to figure out that people here don’t talk. I mean, it’s not that they can’t, they all know how to talk (except for a few who were born here and never learned), but the most you’ll get is a word or two here and there. You mostly get a lot of grunts and growls and howls. I still can’t get those sounds to come out of my mouth when I’m in human form. It’s worse than my singing, if you can believe that.
Everyone out here is so close, all one big group. ‘Personal space’ doesn’t exist, and there’s no privacy”everything’s out in the open. It’s pretty weird for me, I have to say. You know I’m not a super outdoorsy guy, so some of the stuff we do is hard for me. I wimp out a lot. I hate the idea of hunting”I still can’t do it. I have to share what the other guys bring back, and I still don’t like to eat it. I know, I know, I like to eat some weird foods, but raw squirrels? Raw bird? I’m not so wild about those.
Speaking of wild, most people at the camp get around on four legs, and there’s no houses or shelters or tents or beds or anything. Just outdoors. There’s nowhere to wash, so I’m pretty dirty, and I can tell I smell terrible. I’m sort of glad you can’t see me now. I bet I look disgusting!
The thing I didn’t realize when I came is, these people didn’t choose not to join the bad werewolves who’ve been rampaging around lately. These guys don’t even know that there have been attacks, period. They don’t know anything about the human world, which is weird to think about. They’re wilder than the attack werewolves, and they’d probably be a lot more dangerous if they decided to fight.
Here’s what I know about the werewolves who’ve been causing all the trouble (NOT my gang): They’re led by a man named Cassius Balthazar, who’s lived in a werewolf colony for over thirty years. Here’s the thing about his colony”they live totally wild, like the bunch I’m staying with, but Balthazar’s buddies talk normally. They just express wolfish kinds of thoughts all rationally. Balthazar’s really, really smart, and he talks in a really civilized, sensible sort of way, so it’s pretty easy to get caught up in what he’s saying. He hates ‘humans’”by that he means anyone who’s not a werewolf. He doesn’t believe that you can be both.
I guess I see why so many people ended up joining him. Last night, I had my first transformation without Wolfsbane Potion, and now I know why Arden Dubois was always so insecure. It’s bad, really, really bad. I didn’t want to tell you this stuff because it freaked me out a lot, but if I can’t tell you, I can’t tell anyone, and I have to tell someone. And if anyone can read this without judging me, it’s you.
Ivy, I don’t remember the last time I was so scared. It was the most horrible thing I can imagine. Basically, I was still there, like normal”I could see everything, hear everything, think like normal”but I was sitting in the backseat, and some crazy wolf guy was driving. And here’s the really weird part”I was the crazy wolf guy, too. It was like I had two different brains thinking at once. And as cool as that sounds (and as much some people would love the idea of me having an extra brain) it was just weird and scary. The crazy wolf guy part didn’t think in words, or even in pictures or anything… just kind of a blur of emotions.
And then people started attacking. We couldn’t see them”they were hiding off somewhere and shooting spells at us from far away. I was watching all of these other werewolves getting zapped all around me, and there wasn’t anything I could do. The normal part of me wanted to run away and find shelter and help a bunch of the other werewolves, but the crazy wolf guy part of me wasn’t listening.
And here’s why”and I can’t tell you how much it disgusts me that I was even thinking something like this”“yum, people!” Not that I’ve ever eaten any, don’t worry, but me and all the other werewolves were so excited that there were people at the end of the path that we didn’t even care that they were shooting spells that were knocking us dead. We just kept running toward where all of the spells were coming from. It was like they were all coming out of a big pizza… everyone could smell it, and we all wanted some. I don’t even know how to describe it.
Then, the biggest one of us… I don’t know his name, it’s some weird unpronounceable growl thing, but he’s about three hundred pounds in human form, and somehow, he got really close to where the people were, and they ran away. They zapped him first, but not with a Killing Curse. He was just really messed up and hurt. Me and one of the other guys dragged him back and tried to take care of him, and he’s doing okay now, but he’s still freaked out.
He’s decided he likes me, though, and he seems like he’s probably the alpha of the group, so it looks like I’m going to be a popular boy soon! Hahaha. It probably also helps that even though I’m built like a spaghetti noodle, I’m the tallest of the group, so I guess I’m a pretty intimidating-looking wolf. That’s a new one, isn’t it? You never thought anyone would call me ‘intimidating’!
Ivy, a lot of people are hurt or dead. There’s a lot of Ministry officials helping out with identifying the bodies. I was lucky, and I’m not hurt at all, but so many people are that I feel guilty. If I’d had the Wolfsbane Potion, I’d have saved as many people as I could.
Since there’s no talking going on, I have a lot of time to myself, just to think. I think about you all the time, and I miss you so much. I keep imagining coming home, just walking up the front steps and ringing the doorbell. And then you open the door and look up at me, just standing right there in front of me with that smile I love. And I like to imagine holding our baby, sitting with you and the baby on the sofa, counting its tiny little fingers and toes and not having to worry about where I’m going to get my next meal or where I’m going to sleep, or anything but you and me and the baby.
Sometimes, I imagine you and me about seventy-odd years old, sitting on a bench and watching all the different-coloured birds eating seeds we throw for them and listening to our grandkids running around screaming and laughing in the park. Your hair is bright white, and the sun’s shining off of it like some kind of halo, and you’re holding onto my wrinkly old hand and we’re laughing.
I know, I know, it’s cheesy and mushy. If anyone else was reading this (no one else is reading this, right? Right?), they’d probably be laughing their head off right now. But I keep thinking of all of the little things that I’m missing, too. Just things like standing in the kitchen cooking and hearing your voice from the next room, or waking up in the middle of the night and feeling you breathing next to me, or the nice orangey way you smell when I’m in wolf form, or in the morning after a bad transformation feeling all achy and gross and then I open my eyes, and your face right above mine is the first thing I see.
Also, I think a lot about when we were in fifth year and we’d just started dating. Remember how we were scared to touch each other? We held hands so nervously, and we weren’t really sure how to kiss, and when I glanced at you across the room in class, you blushed. We were so awkward! I mean, ‘awkward’ could basically be my middle name, but you know what I mean. I hope. Why do I get the feeling that this letter is going to end up at the wrong address?
Here’s the big thing, though”I miss you so much, and I love you so much, and I wish I was home more than you can believe… BUT, if I had to do it again, I’d still come over here. I have a feeling they’ll need some peace-keeping soon, and when the press came today, I was kind of useful. I’m glad that Tyrone volunteered me. I wasn’t sure at first if I wanted to do it, but even though it’s worse than I thought it would be, I don’t think I could really live with myself if I didn’t go.
I can’t tell yet when I’ll be able to come home. I wish I could soon, though. Just a warning”the second I get back, you’re getting the biggest hug you’ve ever had in your life, like it or not.
Love (you better believe it!),
Ted
P.S. This is definitely the longest thing I’ve ever written. I think my hand’s going to fall off. But my next letter will be even longer! I’ll write soon!
P.P.S. Sorry for sounding so whiny in this letter. I promise I’ll be nice and happy once you have me back home!
“You know, I didn’t really want you to read that,” sighed Ivy, as I put down the letter, looking slightly sick to my stomach.
“Yeah, I can see why,” I grumbled. “I didn’t think even Ted could get that sappy.” But I’d hardly paid attention to Ted’s gooshy outpourings”what really riveted my attention was the second-to-last paragraph. You know, the one with the word ‘Tyrone’ in it.
So Wolfgang was right. Tyrone had put Ted up to this. That was a nice thing of him to do”imagine this sentence uttered with a heaping spoonful or two of sarcasm poured on top. From the sound of it, he didn’t even think of asking Ted before he went and spread the word that sure, Ted Lupin would just LOVE to hang out with a bunch of savage werewolves in the middle of nowhere.
“Are you okay, Emma?” said Ivy, her brow creased. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered, waving my hand airily. “It’s just… did you know that it was Tyrone who volunteered Ted?”
Ivy nodded, looking faintly surprised. “Of course,” she said. “He was talking to one of his friends who works in the Ministry, and he mentioned something about Ted. Then the friend asked if Ted would be willing to help out, and Tyrone said he was sure he would. So Tyrone and his friend came over to talk to us, and when they explained things to us, Ted decided he should go.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded.
Ivy sighed. “I thought you’d take it the wrong way,” she said. “You’re always a bit… touchy when someone brings up Tyrone. Ted and I always managed to keep in touch with him even after you broke up, but””
“Oh, right, right, you thought I’d take the information that it’s Tyrone’s fault that you and Ted are both miserable the wrong way. I see now,” I said. I laughed bitterly. “I think it’s naptime for me… I’m getting all cranky and bratty again. Sorry for being nasty when you’re in such a good mood. Ted’s letter was really… nice.”
“I, er, guess I’ll get back to my own house now,” Ivy said meekly. She took the letter back and gently folded it, handling it like it was some kind of priceless artifact. I never understand that girl. Ted is a nice guy and all, but he’s JUST TED! He’s nothing special, just an ordinary, average, everyday bloke. What is there to get so excited about?
Once Ivy and her letter had left, I sunk back into the chair and grabbed my temples. It was so confusing trying to get a clear picture of who Tyrone was these days. I had my memories left over from when we were dating five years ago, and I had the few brief conversations we’d had. My dad seemed to like him”and he utterly distrusted Tyrone when we were dating, so that’s saying something”and it was clear that Wolfgang didn’t like him at all. Ted and Ivy had kept up with him, but he seemed utterly insensitive to this whole werewolf crisis. And once you include all the insane bits of gossip about him in the tabloids, the whole thing got really out of control. So what was true? It couldn’t all be.
One thing about Tyrone is, I’m not sure I can remember him ever changing his mind… about anything. He’s always been as stubborn and hardheaded as a person can be. If he has a plan, no matter how badly it’s been going, he always sticks to it. I mean, he spent about four years trying to get me to go out with him”he just kept doggedly pursuing me until I finally changed my mind. He probably convinced Ted to go with the werewolves in pretty much the same way”pushing and pushing until Ted finally gave in. I doubt Ted was as susceptible to Tyrone’s big puppy dog eyes as I had been, though.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. At first, I thought it was just my pounding headache playing tricks on me, but when the knocks persisted, I came to my senses and answered it.
And then immediately wished I hadn’t.
“Hi,” said Tyrone, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Nice shirt.”
I looked down instinctively, before remembering that the shirt was, in fact, his. “Oh,” I said intelligently. “Yeah.”
“Well,” continued Tyrone, taking a step indoors without being invited. “I came for my toad stuff?”
“Oh,” I repeated. “Well. Er, it’s all over there in the living room. You can go get it from there if you want.” My voice must have sounded as impatient and humorless as I felt, because Tyrone’s eyebrows contracted slightly. This was the first step of his ‘puppy dog eyes’ routine. Ohhhh, no.
Slowly, one of those eyebrows rose up his forehead. “Well, can I have some help?” he asked.
I laughed. “You carried all of that stuff over here by yourself. You shouldn’t have any trouble taking it back with those famous biceps of yours.”
“All right, then,” said Tyrone. He looked a little bit hurt, but he didn’t say anything else on the subject. He simply stacked together all of his toad equipment and gathered it up together in his arms, seemingly trying to showcase the ‘famous biceps’ I’d mentioned as much as possible in the process.
“Could at least hold the door open for me,” he said quietly. “You’re not being too nice for someone I just lent a trowel to.”
Stiffly, I walked toward the door and opened it for him, feeling my back teeth grind in a way that couldn’t be good for them. The sight of Tyrone, the sound of his voice, the gymnastics his eyebrows were always performing, were suddenly all inexplicably, illogically repulsive. It took all of my willpower to keep from smashing in his nose, though I still couldn’t quite figure out why. It couldn’t just be because of the whole Ted thing” that wasn’t enough to merit this sudden desire to ward him off with a garlic-scented cross.
“Hey,” said Tyrone, pausing in the door. “You still owe me for the stuff I gave you, by the way.”
I looked at him blankly. “If I’d known that I owed you anything, I wouldn’t have taken any of your ‘stuff,’” I said, my voice flatter than a squirrel on the insterstate.
“Oh, don’t worry, it’s nothing big,” Tyrone replied breezily. “I just think maybe we should go out sometime, now that the ice is broken and all. Do you want to get ice cream or something?”
I stared at him. “What?” I spat.
Tyrone looked like he’d been caught slightly off-guard. “Erm. You know, it’s been awhile, and we got along okay earlier today, so I thought we might try for it again. Just hang out, see how it goes.”
I almost laughed. Did I suddenly have some kind of magical innate force that draws boys toward me or something? And if so, was it possible to transfer this power to Haley? “Oh, is this what you meant earlier by ‘truce?’ Is this what you meant by ‘trying to be civil’ and being ‘neighbourly?’ I should’ve guessed… seeing as it’s you, it figures that ‘civility’ means ‘snogging.’”
Tyrone almost dropped his toad gear. He caught his balance and gently set it all down on the floor in front of him, then straightened up into that ramrod-straight posture that looked like it had been achieved through years of charm school. “Well, if you’re going to be like this, I don’t think I want to go get ice cream with you after all,” he said softly. “Seriously, what’s your problem, Emma? I’ve been nothing but nice.”
“You have a pretty weird definition of ‘nice’, then,” I muttered.
“I’m starting to think you have NO definition of ‘nice,’” countered Tyrone. “Why the change, Emma? We were fine earlier today. Or are you only nice when you want something from someone?”
He folded his arms and leaned back against the door frame. “Let me tell you something. I’ve been single for months now, I have a busy career, I have a little sister I’m responsible for, I’m getting a lot of attention from the press and everyone right around now. And you know I remember what a nightmare it was when we were dating before, how we’d always get into fights and break up for a couple days and get back together… but yeah, I kept telling myself all of that that it’d be crazy to ask you out, that it was a really stupid idea, but I decided to try anyway, against my better judgment. But you know, it’s starting to look like I was right.”
I shook my head in amazement. “Did you actually think that lending me a trowel and a t-shirt would be a sure-fire way to get me to leap into your arms? Did you think that’d make up for everything else?”
“And what’s this ‘everything else?’” demanded Tyrone, starting to raise his voice. His eyes flashed. “Name one annoying thing I did”other than when we were dating, I mean. That was ages ago. Can’t you get past any of that?”
“It’s not about that!” I shouted. “Or did you think that if you were nice to me, I wouldn’t care how you treated everyone else? Do you really think I’m so selfish that I wouldn’t care what you did to Ted and Ivy?”
Tyrone’s light hazel eyes narrowed into predatory slits. “Now what are you on about?”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” I snapped. “You know what I mean. ‘Oh, hey, people are talking about canceling Quidditch. Can’t have that, I can’t go a couple weeks without an audience. What can I do? Oh, I know! This nice guy I know, he’s a werewolf! He’ll do anything I want! Of course he’d love to go on a dangerous mission that has like a ten percent chance of working and probably get killed in the process! So what if his wife’s pregnant, so what if he doesn’t want to go, none of that stuff is as important as me and my career.’”
Tyrone’s jaw dropped and he opened his mouth angrily to make some sort of feeble retort. I cut him off.
“If that was my only problem, I could probably stand that. But I have other reasons, you know I do. How about everything you did to Wolfgang? He told me all about that. He’s not the whining kind, but I got the picture”what kind of excuse do you have for that?”
Tyrone looked livid. “Oh, duh, I should have guessed! The famous Wolfgang Quinn! You’re always on his side.”
“Well, who wouldn’t, after hearing about all of his issues?” I exclaimed. “Mostly thanks to you, of course!”
“His issues?” Tyrone repeated unnecessarily contemptuously. “Yeah, I’d say he has serious issues. That bloke has enough issues to start his own magazine.”
“You know what I mean!” I hissed. “Or are you going to play all innocent and pretend like you didn’t steal his house and cut him off from his property and refuse to talk to him? I’ve seen the way you treat him. You don’t care about the werewolf attacks, you don’t care about Wolfgang…”
Tyrone’s face was a strange dark greenish-purple, and his expression looked like he’d been eating tar-encrusted lemons. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at me. Then at last, he opened his mouth and said in a weirdly bitter and forceful voice, even deeper than usual, “So that’s how you see me. Thanks so much for telling me. You’ve sure made me sound like a great guy.” He paused for a moment, his face contorting. “Of course, I doubt any of that would’ve even bothered you for a second if you weren’t still stuck on the past. You can’t get over anything, can you? You can’t put the past behind you.”
“Stop it!” I said sharply. My voice came out in a menacing half-growl that made me sound like I should be hanging out where Ted was, and it surprised even me.
“Well, I’m sorry,” Tyrone said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “But I like being honest, if it’s all the same to you. Me, I always tell the truth, no matter how much of an idiot I end up looking. I can’t say the same for some people I know, but I guess that’s what you””
“You know what?” I interrupted loudly. “Shut up. I don’t care what you have to say, and I don’t care what you do. Maybe if I had proof that you care about anything and that you don’t just use people for the fun of it”no, you know what? Never mind. You’re the last person in the world I’d want to go out with. And that includes Patrick Wormwood.”
Tyrone gave me a tight, sardonic smile, and it was such a strange-looking, unTyronish smile that I couldn’t help but stare. “Yeah, I get the picture. You’ve said enough,” he growled, picking up his toad things without ceasing to glare at me. “Well, all I can say is, I’m definitely sorry for asking you out. And I mean that in every possible way. That’s five minutes of my life I’ll never get back again. Remind me to never try pulling that again.” And with that dramatic conclusion, he somehow managed to slam the front door shut, despite the fact that his arms were full of toad equipment.
I collapsed back into a chair, feeling distinctly as though I’d just had a sudden attack of the flu and puked up all of my guts. I had the same bitter taste in my mouth, the same lightheadedness and nausea, the same chills, and the same achy, lethargic weakness. Stupid, stupid Tyrone. It was so weird to think that he’d even tried to ask me out again. That was a part of my life that was way in the past.
But that was my problem. Tyrone wasn’t the past. He was present, and he was everywhere. It seemed like whatever I did, wherever I was, that big shiny white Cheshire Cat grin of his followed me. He was like some huge dark shadow that was always looming over me. Was this some kind of a sick joke, or some test of mettle, or did he just want to get on my nerves as much as possible?
Or did he miss me?
Suddenly, my eyes went blurry. I rubbed them, but that only made it worse. I needed to lie down. But when I closed my eyes, all that I could see was Tyrone’s face. Sometimes, he looked as bitter and stiff and disgusted as he had just moments before, and I hated it. Sometimes, he was grinning and casual and relaxed, and I hated it even more. Everything he’d said to me today kept ringing in my ears”sometimes sounding carefree and playful and laughing, sometimes sarcastic and hateful and tense, but always the same deep, mumbling drawl.
I wanted to think about anything else”it wasn’t just that I was annoyed with Tyrone, it was that I was sick to death of him. Tyrone this, Tyrone that, Tyrone here, Tyrone there. After going five years without coming face-to-face once, I suddenly couldn’t take a single step without him popping up. When he wasn’t standing in front of me with that smirk on his face, he was in my head.
And he was just plain weird. He’d honestly seemed like he was shocked by the accusations I’d thrown at him. He’d looked all offended, all ‘who, little old me?’ It was sickening. He was so good at tricking everyone into thinking he was great that even HE’D fallen under his own spell.
Well, I’d already made that mistake. And I wasn’t about to again.
Dangit, where DID my parents keep the chocolate?
So, back to this old book… when I left off, Bilbo Collins had gotten married to that disfigured gargoyle, Charlotte Lucas, at the request of an old rich lady named Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who hoped that if Bilbo finally got some, he’d leave her alone and stop stalking her.
Finally, Elizabeth Bennet feels like she can have some peace and quiet now that Bilbo is gone, but it’s not to be, because then she gets some bad news. Remember how Elizabeth’s gorgeous older sister, Jane, had a thing for the extremely wealthy Mr. Bing-Bing, who had just moved into a house called Netherfield, with his venomous Gorgon sister and his live-in companion Mr. Darcy? Well, just after Mr. Collins’ wedding, Jane gets a letter from Mr. Bing-Bing’s sister that says:
Dear Jane,
My brother has left Netherfield FOREVER and moved to London, where you can’t get your grubby paws on him, haha!
Love,
Caroline.
P.S. By the way, did I mention that Mr. Darcy’s beautiful, rich, talented, and single sister lives in London?
Of course, Jane’s heartbroken and everything. However much Elizabeth tries to explain that there’s no way Mr. Bingley would marry Mr. Darcy’s sister, especially since he probably isn’t interested in girls at all, it only does more harm than good for some reason. So, like any sensible girl, Jane decides to stalk Mr. Bing-Bing to London and follow him around in the hopes of winning him back. This is a girl who has never been more than seven meters away from home before, so it’s quite a momentous decision.
Then, Elizabeth gets an announcement that says her darling Wickham is engaged to some girl whose father had recently died and left her a heap of money big enough to fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool. And at first, Elizabeth feels like she should be upset… but she’s not. Because as much as she liked Wickham, she figures that if he wants to get married solely for money, he’s probably not her type of guy anyway. But she still feels sorry for him, because he wouldn’t be so desperate for money if it wasn’t for everything that git Mr. Darcy put him through.
Speaking of Mr. Darcy, she thinks she’s done with him for good, but she’s unfortunately mistaken. Because like garden gnomes, fanged Boomarangs, STDs, hip-huggers, and Lord Voldemort, he just keeps on coming back. When Charlotte writes to Elizabeth begging her to visit sometime and let Charlotte use her as a human shield to fend off her obnoxious husband, Elizabeth can’t help but take pity on her. But visiting Charlotte in her new house means putting up with Lady Catherine de Bourgh, a creature so horrible that she makes Mr. Collins look positively charming by comparison. Though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, seeing as she’s also Mr. Darcy’s aunt.
The second Elizabeth steps into Lady Catherine’s house, this leathery old hag opens up her ungodly mouth and vomits forth this stream of rude comments that only someone as old and rich as her could ever get away with. “Well, you certainly have poor hygiene and a bad complexion. That time of the month, is it? Say, I’ve heard a lot about you. Apparently, you live in a fetid cave and were raised by wolves, and your younger sisters are aspiring ladies of the night. My, your nonexistent education has left you woefully ignorant. What a hideous dress, but I assume you can’t afford better. Your piano playing is terrible. Granted, I never learned how to play the piano, but I’m sure that if I knew how, I’d be a heck of a lot better than you are. By the way, YOU’RE RUDE. You should learn to be respectful in conversation, like me.”
And every time anyone else attempted to get a syllable in edgewise, Lady Catherine would whack them on the back of the knee with her cane with surprising strength for such and old biddy. To make things even weirder, Mr. Darcy is lurking in the shadows the whole time, staring with unblinking eyes at Elizabeth like some kind of bizarre lizard, except I think lizards have to lick their eyeballs due to their lack of eyelids, and Mr. Darcy was at least gentlemanly enough to stop short of that.
The only good part of the visit is that Darcy has a cousin named Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is lucky enough to be one of the few characters in this book with any redeeming qualities, so at least Elizabeth has someone nice to talk to. And over the next several days, Colonel Fitzwilliam shows up to visit Elizabeth several times, sometimes with Mr. Darcy, but usually mercifully without.
Then, all of a sudden, one morning, Elizabeth opens the door expecting to find Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Darcy’s standing there all alone. It’s like she’s a little kid who’s opening a Christmas present hoping to find the toy broomstick he asked for and instead he finds the corpse of his beloved pet hamster. (Man, these summaries are just getting weirder and weirder, aren’t they?)
So, Mr. Darcy takes one step into the room, comments on the weather, stands there holding his hat without moving or saying anything for a good five minutes, stares at a picture on the wall, says ‘how is your family?’, doesn’t wait for an answer, and runs away as fast as he can, leaving Elizabeth thoroughly puzzled, especially since she knows perfectly well that this guy hates her guts. What a strange, strange bloke.