In Dedication to My Wonderful Sister on such a Delightful Occasion
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single
man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
I
can still hear her voice. It resonates over the caterwauling of the wind and
the scraping of branches against the windowpane. Its euphony dispels the dull
greyness as she transports us to another world. A world far away from the small
blue and freezing bedroom. A world where ladies wear beautiful silk gowns and
men named Mr. Darcy change to please his beloved Elizabeth. A world filled with
excitement, life, and possibility. It was in this world that I first
encountered Jane Austen’s Pride and
Prejudice. I was only eight years old.
Let me assure you, however, that I was not reading the
book myself – I was not that much of a nerd, at least not yet -. In actuality,
I did not even know that it was a book, a famous one at that, nor that my
sister was reading it in high school at that time. I just thought it was
another one of the various stories that she had created.
~
Their
beautiful white gowns shone in the sun as they stood side by side. Miles of
fabric and patterned white silk trailed behind both of them. Both held an
assortment of white flowers with blue and pink specks and daffodils scattered
amongst them. Their bonnets trimmed with white lace turned to face one another.
They smiled at each other secretly and then turned to face forward again. They
slipped their right hands in the left arm of an imaginary Mr. Bingley and Mr.
Darcy. At the end of the story, Jane and Elizabeth were finally marrying the
man of their dreams.
During
the ceremony, I was satisfied that both couples got married, but I was still
left wondering what would happen next. When my sister told me that she did not
know, this baffled me. How did she not know what happened?
~
She had told me so many other stories before. We had
lived in the American colonies, where we were running away from a wicked
brother. I can still remember the scratchy upholstery against my skin as I wore
the blue dress that she had designed for that story. Or how I wrinkled my nose
as she powdered my face to hide my freckles. – For as she pointedly explained,
ladies needed to have fair complexions. – I can still remember trudging through
the snow, my purple boots barely visible. We had been pioneering through new
territory, searching for an abandoned barn and recording its foreign
inhabitants. We made shelter out of discarded branches, snow, and the hidden
red and yellow leaves between two trees. As the sun would begin to fade, we
would return home to enjoy the warmth of hot chocolate and the delicious snack
of graham crackers with icing. So when she told me that she had a new story, I
believed that this was no exception. Jane and Elizabeth were just another one
of my sister’s various creations.
~
Toward
the beginning, Jane and Mr. Bingley are in love, but Mrs. Bennett wants the
relationship to deepen more rapidly. Despite the rain and mud, Jane is sent to
call upon the Bingleys on horse-back as she now must stay for supper. Yet the
plan back-fires (or is furthered in the eyes of Mrs. Bennett) when Jane ends up
falling ill and must remain at the Bingleys’ residency for a fortnight.
Elizabeth walks on foot with inches of petticoat deep in mud for three or four
miles to visit her sister. Once there, “Elizabeth would not quit her at all
till late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing [Jane] asleep.”
This continued until Jane gathered enough strength to travel home.
~
Not
many sixteen-year olds would want to spend their winter break playing dress-up
with their younger siblings. Not many would want to help their younger siblings
with listening to problems or make them feel better during difficult times. I
had always wanted to grow up and be like her, something that my friends used to
tease me for constantly. I wanted to be strong and independent. I wanted to go
to the Peace Corps for two and a half years. I wanted to be in the Marching 110
like her, be a trombone like her, and be extremely intelligent like her. I
don’t mean to say that my sister was perfect or that our relationship was
flawless. There were definitely times when I annoyed her and times when we
fought. Yet we never have stopped being there for one another. She never
stopped playing with me, picking on me, and helping me with problems. And she
always mesmerized me with her stories.
~
Jane and Mr. Bingley were no longer together. She had
just had a letter from Miss Bingley explaining that her brother is partial to
Miss Darcy. In speaking to Elizabeth, Jane remains strong, pitying her mother
on the broken prospects of a marriage more than herself.
She explains, “He may live in my memory as the most
amiable man of my acquaintance, but that is all. I have nothing either to hope
or fear, and nothing to reproach him with. Thank God! I have not that pain. A
little time therefore. I shall certainly try to get better.”
Still despite this apparent strength, Elizabeth
understands how much Jane is hurting. She remains there for her sister,
defending her against Mr. Darcy and always trying to mend Jane’s broken heart.
~
I was quickly given the role of Elizabeth – though I had
more in common with Jane as she was quiet, shy and meek –, and my sister constantly prompted me on what to
say. Meanwhile, she not only played the role of Jane but narrated and mimicked
the rest of the Bennets and beaus. Her imitation of the mother’s shrill nagging
made me howl, and I giggled at the incredibly stupid younger sisters. Along
with Elizabeth, I judged Mr. Darcy’s initial behavior and was awed at the
possibility that he could be something other than a pompous ass. I cried when
Mr. Bingley left Jane and later came back to her.
It was days later on Christmas that I finally connected
the dots. Unwrapping her present from our parents, my sister pulled out six VHS
tapes, the box set to the BBC version of Pride
and Prejudice. Her eyes widened, and her face lit up with excitement. She
begged our parents to begin the series later that day. At this time, I still
had no idea that the story my sister had told me had any correlation with the
movie or book version of Pride and
Prejudice.
~
Elizabeth and Darcy are both at Rosings, Darcy’s aunt’s
lodgings, after months of Jane and Bingley not seeing each other. Darcy comes
to call on Elizabeth, walking into the room in a hurriedly fashion and pacing
up and down.
He
bursts in an agitated manner, “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My
feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I
admire and love you.”
“In
such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense
of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be
returned.”
“And
this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might,
perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am
thus rejected.”
“[And]
I might as well enquire, why, with so evident a design of offending and
insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against
your reason and even against your character?
. . . do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the
man, who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a
most beloved sister?”
I could never forget that argument. It was
this debate that made me want to be Elizabeth, the assertive and outgoing
character that remained true to her sister through everything and was not
afraid to speak her mind. It was these qualities that I wanted to replicate in
my sister. It was also at that moment that I understood the story that my
sister had shared was from the movie, which was based on the book Pride and Prejudice.
~
Sometimes siblings fabricate truths or sometimes they
leave out details, which was easily what my sister did. She may have easily
forgotten to tell me that the story was based on a book. Either way, it didn’t
really matter. She had introduced a world of imagination through storytelling,
and she had brought me to one of the greatest influences in my life: Jane
Austen. By the time we had finished the fourth episode and were on the fifth, I
was again hooked on the story line. For a couple months, to which I now feel
bad for my dad, we watched those episodes each weekend. Eventually either we
became tired of the movie or my dad had had enough of hearing Mrs. Bennet’s
shriek that we stopped.
From
the time my sister gave me my first copy of Pride
and Prejudice to now when I reread Persuasion,
her words continue to enchant and ground me even after all of the other
classics I have enjoyed. Whenever I sit
down with her novels, I am reminded of the time when I first heard her words.
