But then there were hours during which she tossed and turned in her bed, alone with the question she had not asked. One morning when Elizabeth woke up at dawn, as usual, she forced herself to act so that she would not have to endure another restless night. She quietly pulled out her writing materials and carried them to the table by the window to ensure she had enough light. Then she penned a very short note:
“You told me that you have never felt as you do with me, with anyone else—but I have been so worried because I wonder, how do you know how to kiss?”
She did not bother with sand, given the brevity of the note. She just waited a bit and then waved it in the air. When the ink was dry, she folded the note into a very small packet and sealed it. After getting dressed for the day, she put the note into her glove, the gloves into a bonnet, and she carried the bonnet down to the entry hall.
Theoretically, a betrothed couple could write to one another, but she felt that this particular note, at least, should be handed off more discreetly.
When the two gentlemen from Netherfield visited and inevitably suggested a walk, Elizabeth waited to pull on her gloves as they were exiting. Jane looked pointedly at her gloves, because she was all about what was proper, and going outside necessitated gloves, but Elizabeth managed to extract the note and press it into the gloved hand of her intended while Jane’s back was turned—and then hurried to put on her gloves.
Mr Darcy looked surprised but almost immediately recovered his usual expression as he offered his arm. As they began to walk, he set a brisker pace than usual, and when they were far enough away from Jane and Mr Bingley, he asked, “Is there somewhere we might be able to be certain of escaping all eyes?”
Elizabeth had never shown him the path to Oakham Mount, before, because she had never
wished to excite the censure of evading all chaperones. Mr Darcy, too, had shown some concern about propriety. But now, to take a chance that he might be able to end her torment, she would gladly risk a scolding. She led him to the trail, thenupwards to the top of the hill. From that position, Mr Darcy spotted Jane and Mr Bingley walking through the garden and about to enter the orchard.
“Why a written note?” he asked, taking it from his pocket. He looked at her, a smile lurking in the corners of his mouth.
“Because I do not wish to ask this, but then I can hardly sleep for wondering. And when I am with you, you are so distracting….”
“Iam distracting?”
He grinned and reached for her, but she stepped away from him and then hastened to the log that had become smooth and polished from the hundreds of times she had sat there over the years.
“I cannot watch you as you read my note,” she explained. “But please hurry and do so, and then, pray be honest in your reply.”
Of course, the note was very short, and only a moment later Mr Darcy seated himself beside her on the log. She looked over at him, worried about what she would see; he looked entirely serious and quite concerned. She kept her eyes locked onto his as he began to respond to her question. “I do not pretend to know what maidens know of such things—and I do not even know if the typical rite of passage for men is something that is specific to the supposedly highest circles, or if it is common amongst all classes—so forgive me if I err in speaking too plainly, or if my assumptions about ‘typical’ and ‘usual’ are incorrect.”
“I urge you to concern yourself with honesty, not decorum; nor protection of maidenly innocence.”
“I will. From my understanding, when young gently-raised men turn eighteen, it is typical for his father or an uncle to take him to aseraglio.”
He looked at Elizabeth. Not knowing what the Italian word meant, she shook her head a bit.
“Umm…a Discreet House. A…a high-class brothel.”
Oh! She nodded to show that she finally knew what he meant.
“My father disliked bawdy behaviour and many of the common attitudes and actions of men. He specifically told me, when I was eighteen, that he had never sought the company of a courtesan or mistress—not just when my mother was alive, but even before he was married and after she died. But, he told me, it took him a while to learn how to please his wife. So he saw some reason to initiate a young man in amorous congress.”
He asked, “Do you understand what I am saying, so far?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth felt quite blank. She realised that she had wrapped her arms around herself as if she was in need of comfort, and she deliberately lowered them and placed her hands carefully into her lap.
“My father could not stand the idea of taking me to aseragliohimself, but he allowed my uncle to take me. My uncle’s attitudes about women and marriage, I gathered then and have no doubt now, are completely opposite to those my father espoused and lived by. I felt quite ashamed to be entering the brothel—although it looked like just any other beautiful mansion, inside and out—but I had accepted my father’s proposition that I learn from the experience and then not engage in those activities until I found the woman I wished to marry.”
“You learnt to kiss from a courtesan?”
“I learnt all that I know about such things from a single courtesan on a single night, when I was just a few days older than my eighteenth birthday.”
“And you never…?”
“I did nothing of the sort before or after that night, until the day we became engaged and you allowed me to kiss you.” He paused, but Elizabeth did not respond, and he finally asked, “Are you upset that I have some experience?”
Elizabeth said, “I do not think so. Right here, right now, I do not feel upset. Although perhaps I should. I imagine if I reported that I had had such an experience a few days after I turned eighteen, you might be quite upset.”
She watched as his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. But he gained control of even those slight indicators of dismay, and he said, “You are correct. Although I do wish to say, in my favour, my one experience was almost a decade ago. I believe it would have been only two years ago had you experienced such an initiation.”
“You mentioned several timestypicalattitudes and behaviours of men,” Elizabeth said. “I have to admit that I have seen no indication, among the four and twenty families with whom my family socialises, that courtesans or mistresses are commonly sought by these men.”
