Jump to new as of January 1, 1999
Jump to new as of January 7, 1999
Posted on Tuesday, 24-Nov-98
Darcy North stood up and began gathering her books from the desk. Methodically she made three piles, her own, those she wanted to borrow and those to be returned to the shelves. She was a tall, sophisticated woman with a halo of soft black hair drawn neatly to the back of her head and darkly serious eyes. Her elegant and self-possessed manner of walking from her desk to the librarian's counter did not go entirely unnoticed by the three students huddled in the corner table between the fire exit and the sign that said, "Nineteenth century English Literature."
She glanced over at them recognizing two of her mature students from the previous year. Charlotte Lucas, a good worker but with all the mysticism of a steamroller, and her friend, Jane Bennet. Darcy liked Jane, she was beautiful and not only beautiful but sensitive, imaginative and a delight to teach. They came from the same small town in Kincardineshire, which, in Darcy's imagination at least, was populated by savages. Only savages could keep a girl like Jane Bennet behind a typewriter for ten years. She sighed, it was a pity that in 1997 there were still women who would rather their daughter got a nice husband than a university education.
On the subject of men, and it was one Darcy didn't indulge in often, Jane and Charlotte had a man at their table. She had never seen either of them in male company although Jane couldn't possibly be short of offers. The man in question was about thirty with dark wavy hair and attractive in a haphazard sort of way; he was smiling and making eyes at Jane. She picked up her books and strode over to the desk with them from where she allowed herself another look at her favourite student's potential lover. Darcy loathed romantic liaisons between students. She watched as he whispered something to Jane that made her blush, she pushed him away and turned silently to Charlotte for support. Charlotte laughed and waggled her finger causing him to look away and for a second their eyes met across the rows of desks and books.
Darcy was the first to look away which was unusual for her but there was something about him that made her uncomfortable. However, there was also something of Jane about him and in spite of his dark hair she realized he must be her brother. Yes, Jane had mentioned a brother who was coming to university this year. She shook her head. What kind of family were they? Exactly what sort of people neglected their children's education to such an extent? She knew they could not be working class because Jane was just too refined so, she surmised, they must be a couple of middle-class spendthrifts. Perhaps it would be unfair to expect too much of Jane and as for her brother... Darcy made a mental note to put that young man in his place. She walked quickly past them without bothering to speak but neither her manners nor her figure went unnoticed by Ethan Bennet.
"She acts as if she owns the entire college," he muttered indignantly.
Charlotte grimaced, "Ethan, don't be so foolish as to jump to conclusions about someone you have never even met."
Ethan widened his eyes and sighed but his gaze remained steadfastly fixed on Dr. North to the discomfort of his friend. There was a certain something about the woman that he found intriguing: her dark clothes, the glistening whiteness of her high collar contrasting with the Spanish pallor of her complexion and, unbelievably, the distinct and determined arrogance of her expression. He pinched himself; he had not come to a university full of pretty undergraduates to bother about some tedious feminist academic.
"I just don't like her attitude," he said sensibly, "that's all."
Jane looked at her watch, "It's almost closing time," she whispered, "I need a coffee."
They caught a bus to the West End where a certain jazz band was playing in Platform One. Jane was intensely absorbed in Charlie Benedict, the trombone player who had so altered her opinion of jazz that she no longer thought of it as the sound of a poor cat hung by its tail from a washing-line but the most harmonious and melodic sound known to womankind. Charlotte's thoughts moved like a tramcar around all the areas near the university where they might rent a nicer flat with Ethan's additional income.
Ethan was less agreeably occupied than his sister and friend. He was finding it inexplicably difficult to blot out the recollection of a pair of intense dark eyes and an incredibly sexy scowl.
"I hate feminists," he muttered.
"What?" Charlotte looked up from reading Women Writing About Men*, "are you quite all right, Ethan?"
"Yes… yes… I'm fine. So, Charlotte tell me what's so special about the woman from the library?"
"She's rich, Ethan, and she donates quite a lot of money to my department."
Ethan nodded, "Well, that explains part of her problem, the very rich imagine they can afford to cause offence wherever they go."
"Oh, don't get a chip on your shoulder because of one glare," protested Charlotte, "she's a nippy sweetie but she's all right and she's my tutor."
Ethan yawned, "How rich?"
Charlotte looked surprised, Ethan was never interested in money or how much other people had of it.
"About 450,000 a year they say, plus her salary, plus an entire Georgian house in the New Town and a castle in the middle of Loch Linnhe."
Ethan rolled his eyes, "A castle on Loch Linnhe? Maybe I'd look like that too if I owned a castle."
Charlotte smirked, "You can't forget that look, can you? Well, you're wasting your time there."
"What time?" asked Ethan aggrieved.
"Any time you spend thinking about Dr. Darcy North," she giggled and leaned over the table, "I heard that when she was an undergrad at Cambridge they called her the frozen north."
Ethan spluttered into his glass, "The frozen north? Oh, brilliant! I couldn't have phrased it better myself. And Charlotte, I'm not interested in her, all right? If she wants me she'd better buy a distillery."
*Women Writing About Men by Jane Miller (Virago), has a good chapter on Jane Austen's men with the title, Fathers and Gentlemen.
Part 2
Author's Note: Ken Bingley who turns up in this episode is, of course, Caroline.
Ethan met his tutor and discussed what classes to take to supplement his degree in English Literature. Moral Philosophy came highly recommended by Jane and, because he was lazy and wanted to get out and see the city rather than spend time discussing options, he volunteered for it.
By the morning of the first lecture he was regretting the choice, it was too heavy and he would have preferred Italian but it seemed prudent to give it a trial run before changing his mind. He arrived ten minutes late and hid behind Colin Williams, a large theology student with a lot of luggage, but no sooner had he congratulated himself on acquiring a position that prevented the lecturer being able to see him than he realized he wanted to see the lecturer.
"I do not perform well to strangers," she was saying in a lovely contralto voice, "but with a little patience you will get used to me."
Ethan leaned to the side to get a better view around the corner of Colin William's immense rucksack. Yes, it was her, the arrogant woman from the library. Colin moved his rucksack and Ethan suddenly couldn't see a thing; he ached with frustration but was determined not to move. The memory of the look she had given him in the library a week ago was rather vivid, Ethan was not used to being treated thus by women, even feminists. He wanted to look at her but he did not want her to know. To his astonishment the lecture was rather good and he even felt that had the teacher not been Dr. Darcy North that he might continue with the course. So impressed that at the end he bounded down the central stairs and told her so.
"Hi, I'm Ethan Bennet, Jane's brother."
She ignored his offered hand, "And are you also studying philosophy?"
"Not for my degree," he replied, fascinated by the chocolatey tone of her voice now that she was not addressing a whole room, "that's English Literature. Your lecture was really interesting, I thought you taught something stupid like Gender Studies or something, this was a great surprise."
"I do teach Gender Studies," she replied with a superior smile, "my original degree was joint honours in sociology and philosophy."
A man less hasty and less prejudiced than Ethan Bennet would have sought the door but he couldn't resist speaking even though he knew he was on a losing streak.
"I've always thought that minutely analysing gender issues only made the situation worse," he said, "why can't men and women just get on with life with out all that stuff?"
"I don't know," she said carefully, "you tell me. Personally I find Gender Studies both interesting and useful, it begins to explain how one half of humanity has been able to oppress the other for so long."
Ethan's heart took a tumble, he was good at criticizing feminists from a distance but, to tell the truth, he had never met one in the flesh. And such lovely flesh. He reeled for a moment and mentally pinched himself but it was too late. Darcy was handing out book lists to a gaggle of eager eighteen year olds and even Ethan realized there was nothing to stay around for.
He went for a wander around the Southside and discovered James Thin, bookseller since 1848, and a Middle-Eastern deli called Jordan Valley. Those were the high points. On the downside he bumped into Ken Bingley the self-satisfied owner of a new Jaguar and son of his parents' neighbours back in Laurencekirk. Ken, who worked as a dealer for a large bank and judged everyone on their income and success on the career ladder, was the antithesis of Ethan who was easy-going, generous and careless.
"I hear you're at university now," said Ken patronizingly. What sort of career did Bennet expect to start at thirty?
"Yeah," said Ethan who could read Ken with the ease of a cheap novel, "English Literature."
Ken looked as if he hoped his taxes weren't contributing to Ethan's grant.
"And what exactly have you been doing for the last ten years?" he asked.
Ethan suppressed a smirk. Normally he didn't stand around answering questions from people he didn't like but he knew his lifestyle was disturbing to the conventional, establishment minded Ken.
"Traveling," he said unpromisingly.
Ken became agitated, "What do you mean traveling?"
"Traveling," repeated Ethan as if backpacking round the world for ten years was the most normal thing in life.
Ken got the message and with a look of disgust and disdain leapt in his bright new car and drove off. Ethan grinned heartily and seeing a music shop went in to enquire about having his guitar restrung.
Part 3
Charlotte had arranged to meet Ethan in Common Grounds before heading down to Queen's Hall for a concert. He had difficulty imagining the place, he faintly recalled it as a little gallery that sold Elizabeth Blackadder paintings but when he finally made his way to the top of the Playfair Steps and looked across the road he was forced to admit it was indeed a coffee-shop. Well, it was nearly nine years since he had been in Edinburgh.
They sat by the window. Charlotte speculated over the whole list of coffees from Amoretto to Viennese and Ethan watched the woman at the table outside suspend a crystal over what seemed to be a map of the city. He tried to imagine what she was doing. Finally Charlotte ordered, an Amoretto for herself and an Irish Whiskey for Ethan because she wanted to taste both.
"Someone had better phone Jane and make sure she doesn't cook our tea," she said as the pretty American girl returned with two cafetieres.
"That'll be me," said Ethan. Some things never changed no matter how much time you were away and Charlotte was one of them.
He had set one foot on the stairs when familiar voices floated up to him on a cloud of coffee and cigarette smoke. He paused. Ken Bingley, the pretentious jerk. Charlie Benedict, had the man no taste in friends? And Darcy. He groaned to himself, he could not face her so soon after the morning's faux pas and was about to return to Charlotte when the mention of Jane arrested his attention.
"Jane Bennet is my best student, Charlie." Darcy was saying. Ethan liked that; praise of Jane always helped his opinion of someone. "Don't go taking too much time from her studies."
Ethan absorbed that bit of information gratefully. He had been away too long to have any right to play Big Brother when Jane went on dates but he couldn't have chosen a nicer bloke than Charlie Benedict himself.
Charlie laughed. "Oh, don't worry, Darcy! I'm not going to marry her this term."
There was a sudden stunned silence pierced at last by Darcy, "Marry her?" she said incredulously.
Nice idea, thought Ethan, now transfixed to the spot, but not yet I hope. I couldn't bear to socialize with you, Dr. Darcy North, for the next three years.
"Joking, Darcy," replied Charlie with an edge to his voice that suggested otherwise.
"Jane is a lovely girl," sighed Ken, "but she has a terrible background to contend with."
Ethan wanted to take the fourteen steps in one stride and hit Ken but he'd done his share of rushing in for that day, he tried some self-control and it worked. Ken's tone had invited questions and Darcy was quick to oblige.
"What sort of terrible background?" she demanded.
Ken demurred rather obviously, "Well, Jane and I have a history so it would be unfair to divulge too much but suffice it to relate that the father is a drunk and hasn't worked a day in twenty years."
Ethan leaned against the wall and wished it would open to provide a cavern into which he might escape. Francis Bennet was an alcoholic and he knew, even without consciously thinking about it, that the fact he managed to sell a few of his paintings now and then wouldn't cut much ice with Darcy.
There was a sharp intake of breath from Darcy, "Oh, how often have I heard that! A woman's education, her life, ruined by an alcoholic father."
Don't drag your feminist propaganda into this, thought Ethan vindictively, this isn't some textbook scenario!
"I don't care about her father," said Charlie defensively, "it doesn't affect Jane."
Ethan could imagine Darcy shaking her dark curls slowly and sympathetically, "Charlie... Charlie... it does affect Jane, being brought up in that atmosphere has probably had a detrimental effect on her ability to make and sustain relationships."
More sociological claptrap, he thought furiously.
"I'm afraid Darcy's right," added Ken in a revoltingly saccharine tone that Ethan felt sure Darcy and Charlie must know was insincere.
There was a nervous clinking of crockery before Charlie managed to ask Ken what exactly he meant by "history." Ethan waited guiltily as if he was snooping on confidences rather than overlistening a conversation between three people. The answer, however, was burning a hole in his imagination. Surely Jane had never been daft enough to get involved with a shallow smooth-talker like Ken Bingley? But then she had liked some incredibly stupid guys in the past.
Ken's reply, however, seemed to be of the non-verbal kind and before Ethan was completely aware of what was happening he had bid Darcy and Charlie good-bye and was approaching the stairs. Ethan started like a scalded cat and dived straight into the kitchen. The girls working there looked rather surprised but Ethan's smile and slightly flirtatious way of putting his finger to his lips made them giggle and one was even kind enough to stand between him and the counter while Ken paid his bill.
He returned to Charlotte who was intrigued by his behaviour.
"I don't suppose you want to tell me what you've been up to?" she asked.
"No," said Ethan and that was that. They went to the concert and if Jane had prepared dinner for three the dog thought herself well done by and nothing was ever said about it.
Chapter 4
It seemed to Ethan over the next few days that Jane was rather quiet but he had his own problems to worry about. The Monday after the concert when Jane had claimed a migraine and stayed at home he was accosted outside the Teviot Row Union by Colin Williams highly agitated and full of self-importance.
"Ethan..." he leaned against the railings puffing like an old locomotive, "I've been shouting at you since Clerk Street..."
Ethan switched off his Walkman and waited patiently for Colin to divulge whatever nonsense was motivating him.
"Do you realize phil is in Hope Park Square tomorrow?" he demanded breathlessly.
Ethan looked blank. Who the heck was Phil?
"Um... not really," he replied.
Colin looked impatient, "Dr. North, herself, told me to tell you. She was most particular that I should tell you."
He drew himself up to his full height and looked Ethan straight in the chin, "As I said, Dr. North was most particular."
The penny dropped at last, "You mean philosophy is in - - - -- - Square?"
"That's what I said," replied Colin pompously, "I said phil is in..."
"Yes, yes, I get you," interrupted Ethan, "I didn't know there were any really large rooms over there."
Colin rolled his eyes dramatically, "Well, there are only eight of us!"
"Eight?" repeated Ethan, "We filled a lecture theatre on Wednesday..."
"That was the introductory lecture for phil one," said Colin impatiently, "we are moral phil."
Ethan's heart sank into his Dr. Marten's. He wanted to see Darcy but not in a tutorial group where he would have to speak to her.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
Colin, a heavy moon-faced young man of about twenty-five did not bear fools gladly.
"Just what exactly are you studying, Ethan?" he asked.
"English Li..." began Ethan, "I mean Eng. Lit."
Colin smiled pompously, "I thought so, you're the dreamy, sensitive type."
"And you?" said Ethan mischievously, "What are you reading? Theol?"
"That's right," Colin was looking far happier than only a moment ago. "Theol."
Ass! thought Ethan. "Well, I have to go, Colin, I need my lunch."
Colin grinned and nodded. He wasn't interested in Ethan's plans only in the fact that Dr. North had entrusted him to inform everyone else in the group of their change of venue. Ethan escaped with a sense of gratitude not towards Dr. North for saving him a journey to the top of the David Hume Tower but to whatever deity had saved him from spending more time with Colin.
Mark the Nerd was happily slurping cream laden hot chocolate when Ethan arrived at the Elephant House. He looked the same as he had done when they had last seen each other three Christmases ago; the same ponytail, the same spots and the same earring.
"So what brings you to Edinburgh?" he asked.
"Staying with my friend from uni," said Mark to Ethan's astonishment.
The possibility of Mark having a friend without a cpu and a data-bus was unthinkable.
"Really?" he managed.
"Yes," Mark the Nerd looked happy. "Colin, Colin Williams, he's doing a second degree in theol at New College."
"Theol," repeated Ethan, this had to be a bad dream although when he thought about it Mark and Colin were a match made in heaven provided they didn't count on being invited to dinner.
Of course, Jane's sibling charity far exceeded Ethan's and both Mark and Colin were invited to dine at the flat in Tollcross that very evening.
"It isn't a very swish area, is it?" commented Mark looking out of the window at a number 16 bus stopping at the King's Theatre.
Ethan glared at him and Mark found something to say about it being useful for ardent playgoers like Charlotte and joined him at the table. Jane had cooked enough for twelve guests which made Colin a happy man and, to Ethan's disgust, an interested one.
"What made you decide to study for the ministry, Colin?" he asked when the conversation seemed to flag.
"God," replied Colin simply, "may I have more parsnips, Jane, how ever did you know parsnips are my favourite vegetable? I've always loved autumn for parsnips and pumpkins, you know."
"The season of mists and mellow fruitfulness," murmured Charlotte pouring herself some wine.
"Yes, that's right," said Colin, "absolutely wonderful time for squashes."
"So God talks to you, does He?" enquired Ethan with a serious face.
Colin looked mystified, "Of course, doesn't He talk to you too?"
"Not that I've noticed," said Ethan beginning to regret the course of conversation. Colin was obviously a fruitcake.
"You would notice, I can assure you, you would notice," replied Colin emphatically.
"God talks to me, sometimes," said Jane suddenly.
Ethan laid down his fork and raised his eyebrows at Charlotte who found herself in sudden need of another drink.
"And when does He talk to you?" he asked wondering if Jane had been at the cooking sherry or if she had just exceeded her tolerance of Colin for the day.
"On Forgiveness Sunday," she said seriously, "it's amazing how many wrong things I remember doing."
"Uh... that's not the same thing, Jane," said Ethan with a sense of relief. "that's your conscience."
"You are talking nonsense, my dear Jane," murmured Colin leaning over two platters of food and taking her hand.
"Why do you say that, Colin?" enquired Charlotte because Ethan couldn't speak having observed Colin's tie trailing through the pumpkin puree.
"I say that because I am convinced that our dear Jane never does anything wrong," smiled Colin greasily.
Jane blushed profusely and busied herself with rearranging plates which lost her Colin's hand without any fuss. Ethan thought if he had been a girl in similar circumstances he would have stabbed it with a nearby fork.
"Isn't that bad theology, Colin?" he asked, determined to have some fun out of the poor man.
Colin opened his mouth as if to defend himself but nothing came out. He frowned and tried again with the same results.
"Marks and Spencer do do a rather good merlot, don't they?" said Charlotte after a few moments in which Colin continued to flounder.
Ethan's opinion of Colin as glaikit jelled at that point. If Charlie Benedict, or even the loathsome Ken, had attributed sinless perfection to Jane they would had the intelligence to substantiate with a piece of cleverly quoted poetry. Colin, it seemed, wanted to be taken seriously.
"Do you have a girlfriend, Colin?" asked Charlotte innocently when Jane had taken some dishes back to the kitchen.
Colin looked anxiously at Mark the Nerd who merely snorted. Charlotte winked at Ethan who was more than willing to help embarrass Colin further.
"No-one at home?" he asked sympathetically.
Mark snorted again.
"Well... there was one young lady," began Colin who was obviously torn between wanting to appear fancy-free and having the credibility of previous romantic involvement especially with the good-looking Ethan.
"Anne Fitzwilliam," said Mark, "she did Business Studies at Strathclyde when we were there and she wasn't that keen on you, Colin."
"I thought we had a remarkably deep and meaningful relationship," protested Colin, "in fact it was Anne who inspired to become a minister."
"I thought you said it was God?" Ethan reminded him.
Jane returned at that moment with a gloriously sticky chocolate dessert that immediately commanded all Colin's attention and left Ethan with no-one to tease.
"My friend Lucy L..." she began.
"Lucy Lawless?" said Ethan hopefully as Charlotte cascaded into helpless laughter.
Mark looked contemptuously at Charlotte, "Lucy who?" he said.
"Lucy Lawless, she's my best girl," said Ethan with a perfectly straight face.
"Oh, so you have a girlfriend, then?" said Colin.
"Only in his dreams!" squealed Charlotte, "Lucy Lawless is the star of Xena, Warrior Princess and Ethan has been making me tape it every week and send it to him in Italy!"
Colin and Mark looked lost and turned to Jane for help. She, however, was used to Ethan's Xena complex and contented herself with saying she was surprised it wasn't on Italian television before returning to her original point.
"My friend Lucy Long is having a Hallowe'en party to which we are all invited," she said firmly.
"Do we dress up?" cried Charlotte.
Ethan took the plate of dessert, "Ducking for apples," he said, "change one letter and it's the story of my life."
Charlotte's restraint broke down again and it was obvious her peels of laughter disturbed Colin.
"What's the joke?" he asked Mark the Nerd keeping a weather eye on the mad woman next to him.
Mark shrugged.
"It's a famous saying of Dorothy Parker's," said Jane uneasily.
"Yes, but what is so funny?" demanded Colin, "I don't get it."
Jane shot Ethan a look that told him to confine his literary quotes to Mabel Lucy Atwell.
The end of the month arrived frosty and bright. Be like an October day, smiling, cold and gay, thought Ethan has he changed for the party. It occurred to him somewhere between misquoting Keats and finding his biggest Arran sweater that he hadn't seen or heard of Charlie Benedict for about a fortnight. He headed for the kitchen from where delicious smells had wafted round the flat all day.
Jane was busily wrapping up treacle scones and apples stuffed with cinnamon and raisins.
"Don't come in here looking for something to eat," she warned, "all of this is going to Lucy's."
Ethan took a scone when her back was turned, "Will Charlie be there?" he asked.
"I have no idea," replied Jane, "why?"
"I thought you were going out with him," said Ethan uncomfortably, "but you haven't mentioned him for weeks."
Jane bit her lip thoughtfully, "A few dates don't make an involvement, Ethan, and I felt I really couldn't cope with a relationship and still get a First."
"Since when did a First rather than a two-one become more important than love?" demanded Ethan.
"I think love is a rather strong word," Jane busied herself with putting tinfoil and Tupperware in a large box, "can you manage this down to Mark's car?"
"Did you come to that conclusion by yourself or were you counseled?" he asked as they went down the stairs.
"I do have a mind of my own, you know," replied Jane holding open the tenement door with an angry look.
Ethan saw Jane and her box of good things comfortably settled in the back of Mark's car. He didn't believe she hadn't been helped to her decision about Charlie. By her philosophy teacher, perhaps?
"We'll walk to Lucy's," he said shutting the door.
"All the way to Newington?" Colin stuck his head out the window in astonishment.
"It isn't far," said Charlotte pulling her pixie hat down over her ears, "has anyone seen my pockies?"
"They're in your bag," said Ethan as Mark drove off, "I couldn't stand five minutes in a car with Colin, could you?"
Charlotte found her mittens, "Listerine-man," she commented, "he smells like a hospital."
They walked down to the Meadows in companionable silence. Charlotte enjoying the crispness of the evening so far and looking forward to a starry night and Ethan wondering how to broach the subject of Darcy and Charlie.
"Do you think Charlie will be there tonight?" he asked as they passed the Royal Infirmary and began to walk south-east.
"Don't know," replied Charlotte.
"Jane isn't seeing him anymore," he added.
"I know," said Charlotte with aggravating economy.
"Okay, Charlotte," Ethan grabbed both her hands and made her stand still, "what is going on? Did Darcy North persuade Jane to give up Charlie for the sake of her degree?"
"Jane has a mind of her own," said Charlotte crossly, "why bring Darcy into it?"
Ethan let go of her and didn't reply. It was obvious he was an outsider in a conspiracy of women and neither Jane nor Charlotte could see that Darcy was a manipulator. When they arrived at Lucy Long's house in the old Jewish quarter the party had already started. Faded Chinese lanterns hung in the still leafy branches of old trees intertwined with white sparkling fairy lights and Colin was entertaining everyone with his attempts to light the barbecue. Ethan smiled at Charlotte momentarily forgetting she was one of the Stepford Students, this was the life, this was the way to have a barbecue! He had spent a year in Australia working first in a pasta factory in Melbourne and then backpacking around the coast where barbecues on the beach had been incredibly popular but what he had never successfully explained to his hosts was that the only way to really enjoy one was in the freezing cold of a Scottish fall.
"Ethan, let me introduce you to the faculty office's newest secretary," said Lucy when Jane had introduced Ethan to her.
"Ethan Bennet meet Wendy Gillies," she smiled and having introduced her most handsome male guest to her prettiest female one she had done her mitzva for the day. Or it felt like a mitzva to Ethan.
Wendy Gillies was a tiny twentysomething with a mass of russet hair and opalescent grey eyes. She smiled up at him from beneath the curls escaping from her beret and there was something so vulnerable and funny in her face that Ethan, if he hadn't been so disgusted with the whole feminine race, would have fallen in love straight-away.
They moved over to the window from where Lucy's other half was dispensing generous amounts of rum punch in paper cups.
"Lucy says you've traveled a lot," said Wendy as she handed him a cup, "I wish I had had the chance. Where have you been?"
Ethan told her. Canada, Australia, Singapore, Israel, Cyprus, Greece, Italy, Austria and back to Italy again. She giggled at him and got more punch.
"So you liked Italy best?" she asked.
"I loved Italy," said Ethan seriously, "I'm going back when I finish here."
"Traveling and education," Wendy shook her elfin head, "oh, you are so lucky."
Ethan shrugged, "No, not really, I just saw what I wanted to do and did it. What stops you?"
Wendy took a deep breath and finished her second cup of punch, "Lots of things," she said seriously, "want to dance?"
Ethan did want to dance. Wendy looked like a faerie given human form just for that one magical evening when the veil between this world and the other world becomes translucent and he thought he had better make the most of her. The music was slow and old, Roxy Music's Jealous Guy, he laid his face gently against Wendy's hair and began to think that perhaps Umbria had been fairly exchanged for Edinburgh.
"Darcy! I thought you had changed your mind. Oh, champagne, thank you!"
He looked up and saw Darcy emerging from the French windows, handing Lucy something and behind her... behind her Ken Bingley with his arm protectively around her shoulder. Ken Bingley?
"Let me introduce you to someone..." Lucy was dragging Darcy across the grass, "excuse me, Ethan, but Wendy will be doing a lot of work for Dr. North."
"Wendy Gillies," repeated Darcy when the introductions had been made.
Wendy held out a tiny hand but Darcy was already striding back to the house followed by Ken who seemed to think it was all a great joke. Ethan glanced at Charlotte before turning his attention to Wendy who was beginning to cry, "Come and get something to eat," he said.
Charlotte disappeared with all haste after Ken for she hated to miss anything and Ethan took Wendy to where Colin was doling out sausages and burgers and to his credit he had cooked them remarkably well after Jane had lit the barbecue for him.
"Here," he put a vegeburger in one hand and a cupful of Darcy's champagne in the other, "I know what it's like starting a new job but don't worry about Dr. North, she's just naturally obnoxious."
"Really?" asked Wendy, her bright tears sparkled in the lantern light but it would have been clear to a disinterested observer that a tumbler of champagne and a handsome man was more than consolation enough.
Ethan, however, was not disinterested.
Part 5
He arranged to meet Wendy a few days later in the Elephant House, it was near enough the university for lunch and avoided the possibility of snooping ears at neighbouring tables. He was determined to discover what had happened between the two women.
Wendy was there when he arrived, a vision in autumn hue, her unruly hair held back by a velvet band.
"Do you think I'm very silly after the other night?" she asked.
"No," replied Ethan, "I expect a certain amount of rudeness from Dr. North but I horrified at the way she treated you. What reason does she have? She had only just met you."
Wendy shook her head and tucked the locket she had been playing with back inside her jumper.
"I've known her all my life," she said, "our mothers were best friends and when my mother died Mrs. North sent me to school with Darcy. I thought it would be like having a big sister but from the very beginning she was spiteful to me, I suppose she was jealous but as a child I didn't really understand that."
"Of course not!" said Ethan, "How old were you?"
"Six," replied Wendy, "and Darcy was eleven, she was the cleverest and most popular girl in the school and she turned everyone against me, even the nuns."
Ethan sat back and looked at her. He didn't doubt for a moment the truthfulness of her statement, there was a limpid innocent quality about her that rendered her every word free from taint. He could understand Darcy being jealous as a child, he was the eldest of five children and knew what it was to feel supplanted in his mother's affections but to be still reacting that way more than twenty years later?
"What happened as you grew up?" he asked gently.
Wendy began to fidget with her locket again. It was small, gold and heart-shaped.
"I fell in love with Darcy's brother," she said miserably, "Mrs. North was thrilled because she said it really would make me her daughter but Darcy was livid and when Mrs. North died in a car crash she forbade me to attend the funeral and… and.."
"That level of cruelty is unbelievable!" protested Ethan. "How could you offer to shake hands with her?"
"Until I can forget the kindness of the mother I must always try to be kind to the daughter," replied Wendy with a quiver in her voice.
And the brother? Have you forgotten the brother? Ethan wondered whose photograph was in the locket.
"What happened to her brother?" he asked.
Wendy took a deep breath, poured some coffee and fidgeted with the cafetiere.
"He had a breakdown with grief after his mother died and Darcy dumped him in a mental hospital with strict instructions that I must never see him. He never got better. I mean, I don't love him anymore, not that way but I keep thinking about how his life is ruined because of Darcy's neglect and… and… I just can't enjoy my own. That's why I'll never go traveling like you, sometimes it's just hard enough getting through the day."
Ethan took her small, cold hand. There were no words to console her with for what Darcy had done to her. She was such a little, beautiful, vulnerable creature. Women like Darcy, strong, wealthy and successful would never understand women like Wendy.
He went to his moral philosophy class in an ill humour. Colin was pottering about outside the door and for a moment he hoped the door was locked and the class canceled because he really didn't want to see Darcy.
"She's having coffee in there with some people from Gend Stud and Soc Sci," said Colin, "and we're a bit early."
Ethan looked at his watch. Four minutes. He heard Charlotte's voice protesting that she wanted to examine "Women in Cross-cultural Perspective" after Christmas and Darcy countering with the fact that she would rather teach "Men, Conflict, and Social Change." He moved to the little window and looked out on to the dilapidated square, it had been picturesque once but was now falling down. Why didn't the university cut funding to certain departments and spend the money on restoring its precious buildings?
"Do you see the point of Gender Studies, Colin?"
Colin looked blank, "I don't know, it's a woman's thing, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Ethan went to sit on the stairs, "a subject for women who've never been in love in their lives."
Colin sidled away from the door, "I don't understand women," he said, "it's hard enough finding ones that are nice to me without trying to understand them too."
The door opened and a gaggle of girls poured out. To Ethan's annoyance there wasn't a single flat-chested, spikey haired, militant looking one in the group; some were skinny, some curvaceous, some pretty and some not; there was one stunning West Indian and behind her, last of all and muttering about her pockies, was Charlotte.
"All right, Ethan?" she smiled.
"Fine," he replied, and catching Darcy's eye, "I just love Moral Philosophy. There's nothing quite like discussing the rights and wrongs of a thing, is there, Doctor?"
Part 6
Posted on Wednesday, 6 January 1999
First year Moral Philosophy was the quietest class Ethan had ever attended. Darcy did most of the talking and was regularly rewarded by a monologue from Colin proving he had not understood a word of what she had said. Ethan usually found observing the refined and erudite Dr. North attempting to instill the fundamentals of ethics into Colin's dense mind rather amusing but today he was in no humour to be entertained. He intended to cross swords with the woman and win.
"Last week we talked about responsibility," she said at last, "and Mr. Williams said that we all ought to love one another because God loves us. I thought we could look at that further today. Are there any atheists?"
"Everyone except Ethan is taking theology, Dr. North." Colin answered for the entire group. His expression as he spoke was one of sheer adoration and he gazed at her rather longer than was necessary.
Ethan chuckled. If any other lecturer in the university had gained Colin's ardent devotion he would have felt heart sorry for them but Darcy deserved it.
"Do you find theology amusing, Mr. Bennet?"
She made a point of pretending not to know his first name; he had heard that none of her male students had first names.
He ignored her remark about theology. "Do you mean that this afternoon's topic is the right to love?"
"Yes," she said, "I thought it might be something that everyone could talk about."
Ethan settled back in his chair and smothered a grin.
"I believe the ability to love and be loved to be dependent on personhood," said Colin.
"Really?" said Darcy without a trace of sarcasm. It was astonishing, thought Ethan, how someone so fastidious could tolerate Colin so kindly; he hoped she would not be so kind as to allow him to keep talking.
Colin made his point at some length and left Ethan wondering which of them didn't belong in the class. However, he did manage to spark some conversation among his usually unresponsive classmates and finally Darcy was able to conclude that everyone thought they had a right to love and be loved. It all hinged on the existence of G-d but in previous weeks when she had tried to deal with the existence of G-d they had stonewalled her.
"How would you rate the cruelty of separating two young people very much in love?" asked Ethan as soon as the topic flagged.
"Are we talking about moonstruck adolescents in Verona, Mr. Bennet, or do you have something sensible in mind?"
"I don't think we should be referring to romantic inclinations," said Colin quickly, "we should confine ourselves to discussing love in its integrity. I have always believed…."
Darcy raised her eyebrows slightly at Ethan as if daring him to stop Colin mid-tirade but did nothing herself.
"If the right to love is a basic human right," he said when Colin drew breath, "do you think that anyone has the right to determine who another person can love?"
Her eyes glittered dangerously for a moment, "Is it important what I think?"
"Philosophy is not the place for personal opinion, Ethan," remarked Colin smugly.
"Those in possession of the facts are entitled to an opinion on any subject," Ethan replied keeping his eyes fixed on Darcy.
"And what facts are you in possession of, Mr. Bennet?"
Colin looked worried, "I think my friend means…" he began and catching Darcy's expression his words dissolved into a series of gawps. There was a hidden syllabus and he would have a word with Ethan about it later.
"I'll repeat my question, Mr. Bennet, what has my opinion to do with it?"
"I thought, perhaps, as a philosopher you would be, uh, more careful in formulating opinions than the rest of us."
"I would hope so," she replied.
"So, does that make you flexible or inflexible in your judgments, Doctor? How often do you review your opinions?"
"My bad opinion is hard to obtain and once obtained almost impossible to remove."
"You must be very careful, then, in forming a bad opinion? How can you be sure you are never motivated by prejudice or jealousy?"
"I think we're straying off the syllabus a little," she replied.
Ethan looked at his watch and decided to postpone the battle for another day, "I was merely trying to sketch you," he smiled.
"Well, don't. I suggest you give up character sketching for a while and concentrate on your course-work. Would you like to write down the title of our textbook, Mr. Bennet, you don't seem to have read it?"
"I'm sure I'll remember it all the way across the road to the library," he replied.
She smoothed on her gloves, "Good, I expect a two thousand-word essay on The Right to Love for next week."
Ethan scribbled down the essay title and when he looked up again her almond eyes were level with his blue ones. He had never imagined brown eyes could be so cold and not only cold but contemptuous; she apparently did not think he was capable of her course.
He stormed out of the building and through the lane to Buccleuch Place. It was one thing to come prepared to lose to her in a debate but to be humiliated by calm eyes was insupportable. Charlotte was already in possession of a cosy table in PAMS House when he arrived.
"I hate this country!" he threw his bag down, "I can't believe I left Italy and came back here, it's so cold."
"You were born and bred here," was the sensible reply, "you can't expect it to be anything but cold in November."
He bought two coffees and worked his anger at Darcy out of his system by relating to Charlotte Wendy's sad story. She listened quietly and incredulously.
"I don't know what to think," she said when he had finished.
"I know exactly what to think!" he said angrily, "Wendy is honest and open and Dr. North is a bitch."
Charlotte frowned, "No need to be so pejorative. I can't believe you've fallen for such nonsense - for goodness sake, Ethan, it sounds like something out of a sixpenny romance."
"And if Dr. North wasn't your tutor, if she wasn't so beautiful and if she wasn't marking your papers you'd think differently!"
Charlotte froze and then flared. "What does it matter if she's beautiful or not? Are you accusing me of something? If you are you can go to hell!"
She snatched her bag and mittens and stormed out leaving Ethan to determine exactly where he had gone wrong.