Shame and Shamelessness

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a good Grove of Eglantine, must be in want of a wax. However little known the feelings or views of such a woman may be on her first entering a beauty salon, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the neighbourhood, that whatever pain and shame lay before her, there is none more great to a lady than that bestowed upon her by an overgrown garden. It is in a single lady’s best interests to look as handsome as she can at all times, since gentlemen callers can arrive most unexpectedly.

“Good morning.” 

“Oh, good morning Miss Bennet. Would you like to come through?” 

Elizabeth replied that she would.

“Please, replace your undergarments with these muslin ones here, lie down on the bed, and I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

Elizabeth had been here many times before, yet nothing ever prepared her for the awkwardness of this moment; she found the stiffness of the occasion rather disconcerting and at times such as this, she wished she had more of a lighthearted manner. Yet when the beauty nurse returned, there was such an expression of goodness in her countenance that Elizabeth began to relax in spite of the situation. 

A few minutes later, she recognized that she had regarded her condition rather rashly, as now the pain was so forceful she found it necessary to bite her lower lip. At first there was too much to be felt for attention to any other objects, but after the pain had subsided a little she became terribly aware of the beauty nurse and the heavy silence between them. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together and because it was the least agreeable circumstance Elizabeth took it upon herself to begin conversing.

“The weather has been highly changeable of late, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh indeed Miss Bennet.”

“Please, call me Elizabeth.”

“As you wish. And you can call me Darcey.”

The increasing civilities continued and Elizabeth noticed that when Darcey spoke, it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice: a sacrifice to propriety, not a pleasure to herself. It made Elizabeth feel even more uncomfortable and so presently, she fell silent. Darcey, however, sensed her client’s disquiet and because she regarded her as a kind-hearted girl with an agreeable disposition, she endeavoured to use all her arts and allurements to make her feel contented.

“Pray tell me, Elizabeth, are you single?”

Under normal circumstances, Elizabeth would have been shocked by the impropriety of such a direct question, but there on the beauty bed it all seemed so natural; this was compounded by Elizabeth’s desire to mediate any other imagining besides that which was going on right there and then out of her view. There then began an exchange so agreeable that Elizabeth could not remember when she had spent more delightful a morning. Darcey’s powers of conversation were considerable. She could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour and listen to her acquaintance with spirit. When the wax was over, Elizabeth almost dared not admit to herself that she was a little disappointed and loathe to leave her new confidante; but such was the conventional conduct of the occasion that as soon as Elizabeth had replaced the muslin undergarments with her own, the conversation ended and the heartfelt passion was replaced by civil leave-takings.

Over the next few weeks Elizabeth busied herself by taking long walks through parks, to farmer’s markets and public houses. Suddenly she had the desire to be by herself, felt no need for company and resolved to walk as many miles as it would take to clear her head of the perplexing thoughts which had come to possess it. It was while she was on one of these lengthy walks that she developed quite a thirst and so stopped off at The Prince Regent public house. She passed over the threshold and was waiting at the bar, when suddenly she saw her. They were within ten yards of each other, and so abrupt was her appearance, that it was impossible to avoid her sight. Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush. Darcey absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immoveable from surprise; but shortly recovering herself, advanced towards Elizabeth, and spoke to her, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility. Elizabeth instinctively turned away; but, looking up on her approach, received her salutations with an embarrassment impossible to overcome.

Darcey seemed astonished at finding her alone in the public house, and apologized for her intrusion whilst Elizabeth blushed again and again over the perverseness of the meeting. Darcey stood for a few moments without saying a word, while Elizabeth wondered if the correct conduct for such occasions was to make a few formal enquiries, suffer the awkward pause and then just walk away; and yet there was something of dignity in Darcey’s countenance which kept Elizabeth stood where she was. She was so overcome by a mixture of shame and affection that she had not happened to see another person by Darcey’s side, who now had the advantage of seeing Elizabeth unguarded and without her usual outward composure. She looked over and met a woman’s eyes shining with impudence.

“Oh excuse me, but I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. I’m Darcey’s companion, Miss Witless. Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.”

“Likewise,” Elizabeth softly replied, the greater the impropriety of the situation now that someone else was present occurring to her mind, making those few moments the most uncomfortable of her life.

“And, pray, how do you two know each other?” she asked them both, fixing her eyes on one and then the other. Elizabeth blushed at her gaze and then again upon seeing Darcey’s vexed and embarrassed looks.

“We read together at the book association,” Darcey said at last, an air of confidence surrounding her quick-witted lie.

“Oh, and which book are you reading at present?”

“Tipping The Velvet,” Elizabeth blurted out, keen to come to the aid of Darcey; yet as soon as the name of the novel she had recently had the delight in reading left her lips, she realized at once the misapprehension that would now come forth and her heart filled with bitter regret.

“Oh, how marvellous!” Miss Witless exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with the richness of loose chatter at this discovery. “Well, do get yourself a drink and then please come and join us. We’re seated over there.”

After Elizabeth had bowed her head in acknowledgement and turned to the waiting barmaid to request a half of pale ale, Miss Witless began abusing her to Darcey before they had returned to their seats. Miss Witless found it almost incredible that she should have walked miles so early in the day, and by herself, to a public house, where she was intending to sit on her own at the bar. She went on to critique her clothing rather harshly and even the way she presented her hair. Miss Witless was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. The business of her life was to follow Darcey and her brother’s fortune everywhere she could; its solace was guarding this money from anyone else, by whatever means was at her disposal. On Elizabeth’s return to their company, she overheard the spiteful remarks and was perfectly sensible that they were about her but she vowed to not allow any such acknowledgement from being detected in her behaviour.

Elizabeth was occupying herself intently with this vow, when a familiar voice thrust its way into her thoughts. It made the ceremonious salutations and pompous apologies for its absence before stopping abruptly in the presence of a motionless Elizabeth. 

“Oh, Elizabeth, this is a most unexpected surprise. What an honour to meet you here. I see you’ve met my lovely fiancé, Darcey. We got engaged a couple of weeks ago. At last I’ve found a woman who contributes much to my felicity. Our situation is indeed the sort of extraordinary blessing, which few can boast. There is in everything a most remarkable resemblance of character and ideas between us. We seem to have been designed for each other.” This gentleman, one Mr William Bungle, had the remarkable ability to never tire of the sound of his own voice. He had not seen Elizabeth for a twelvemonth, not since their parting, and he addressed himself particularly to her, as if wishing to make her feel what she had lost in rejecting him; he thought too well of himself and was too lacking in the virtue of shame to comprehend on what motive she had refused him all those months ago.

On his address, Elizabeth’s colour increased. She wondered whether this perverseness would ever end and was bewildered at the cornucopia of mischances that had happened to her that very day; yet she received his silly remarks with a forbearance and a propriety of behaviour free from any symptom of resentment or any unnecessary complaisance. 

“Yes, they are violently in love,” cried Miss Witless.

“Many congratulations, I’m sure. I saw it on the world wide web.”

“Oh, but you didn’t make a comment, dear Elizabeth.”

“I shall be sure to make one when I’m next in the domain.”

“I’ll look forward to it. So, come, tell us all about your boyfriend.”

“Oh no Will, she likes Tipping The Velvet!” Miss Witless cried with mirth.

Both Elizabeth and Darcey blushed at this.

“Pardon? No, you must be mistaken. This is my ex-lover,” he said with monotonous solemnity, his eyes watching Elizabeth closely.

“Oh!” cried Miss Witless, while Darcey expressed her surprise a little more quietly, with a widening of her eyes.

“Pray, how are you two acquainted with one another?” Mr Bungle asked Elizabeth and Darcey in an ill-natured tone. 

“She’s one of my clients,” Darcey explained brusquely.

“Oh! How simply marvellous. And just how intimately do you know each other, my ex and my fiancé? Just what sort of treatment are you having dearest Elizabeth?” As he spoke, Elizabeth noted that his eyes shone with a familiar lust. She looked expressively at Darcey.

“Will, you know I can’t discuss that with you.”

“Aye, that is just like your impeccable propriety and discretion darling Darcey. But your avoidance of the answer tells us a great deal.” 

At this remark of Mr Bungle’s, Miss Witless squealed with delight, encouraging him to continue his impolitic monologue.

 

“I expect dear Elizabeth, you’d rather be dead right now than standing here with us, all these wild imaginings in our heads. I always remember there seemed to be a prettyish kind of little wilderness on the sides of your lawn, yet now I shall think of it with very different landscaping indeed.” Mr Bungle made no attempt to hide the pleasure he obtained from his humiliating of poor Elizabeth, although she saw the suspicions of Darcey were awakened against him as he revealed his true disposition, and in her countenance Elizabeth detected anger and repulsion. This gave her the courage to express her true feelings.

“Dearest Will. I do know Darcey intimately, yes. As intimately as any woman could dare to know another and I can honestly say that I have never had the pleasure of being in the company of such a generous and kind-hearted soul who has more wit and charm in her graceful fingers, than you possess in the whole of your awkward, cold and unforgiving body. And, dare I say it, hairy! If she becomes wedded to you, it’ll be a crime against the institute of marriage and God will punish you greatly for such insolence in his presence. Well, if you will kindly excuse me, I have things to be getting on with; like washing my hair and undergarments.” 

As she quitted the table, Elizabeth caught Darcey’s eye and discovered an expression of awe, while Mr. Bungle and Miss Witless had silently formed their mouths into the shape of an ‘O’. She felt how improbable it was that she should ever see Darcey again on such terms of cordiality. So she phoned up the next day to form an engagement with her for the following week.