THE MERITS OF POETRY { TAG: MISS REBECCA LEVITT}

[MISS JANE BENNET]

Jane had taken the walk to Meryton that morning with her sisters without the intention of purchasing anything. Although Mr. Bennet was not a poor man he was not exactly a rich one either. His girls received an allowance and from that allowance they were allowed to purchase things for their amusements and the such. Oftentimes Jane would stockpile her pocket money because her sisters often spent over their allowances and she wanted to have a small stash on hand to lend to them if they needed it. Usually Jane’s only frivolous purchase were her charcoal pencils and sketch pads to nurture her love of drawing.

However things were steadily starting to change for Miss Bennet. At the Meryton assembly she had made the acquaintance of the infamous Mr. Bingley and had very steadily formed an affection. One that had been made all the more deeper by her stay at Netherfield while she was sick. It was altogether unusual for Jane to be taken care of.

Usually she was the one who cared for others. But Mr. Bingley had done everything in his power to see to her comfort and well being whilst she was ill which had only deepened the already budding affections towards him.
So upon happening by the bookstore she couldn’t help but stop and take pause. It had been ages since she had read last, books being much more Lizzie’s choice of amusement than hers. Jane usually read rather slowly and was so keen to absorb all the details that it took her ages to finish a book.

When she had been no more than Lydia’s age she had developed quite the taste for poetry. Perhaps being fueled by her first beau proclaiming her his muse or the highly romantic nature of some poets she had voracaciosuly devoured all the books on poetry at Longbourn. However since her first beau had left her wounded and nursing a broken heart poetry had left a rather bad taste in her mouth.

Jane entered the shop with a somewhat hesitant step. Usually it was Lizzie who knew the shelves of this place intimately not she. She hadn’t even really entertained a notion of what she was looking for. But Jane knew she was in the mood to read of some kind of romance. She walked with careful and thoughtful steps as she browsed. Stopping before a book by John Donne she flipped open to “ The Bait”

Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines and silver hooks. she read with a soft smile on her face at the highly romantic nature of the poem.

Perhaps poetry wasn’t so terrible after all.

[Miss Rebecca Levitt]

"There will the river whisp'ring run
Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the sun ;
And there th' enamour'd fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray."



By memory did the book keeper's daughter follow on in a voice just as soft, though there was a distinct warmth to her voice that was very likely fondness for the written word. So too though was there perhaps a note of humour, though not of the cruel kind; she saw and heard often the murmurings of those when they did not believe themselves heard. Poetry made speakers and lovers out of us all, even the cynics. Just as likely was it that she was aware of her new prospective customer's shy disposition too, and anticipated with a gay twinkle in dark eyes the manner in which the elder Miss Bennet might respond to being found out.



“Do you seek Mr. Donne’s work for a particular reason, Miss Ja—Miss Bennet?”



Not that Rebecca particularly minded either way how she might react; she was of a nature to tease a little and comfort a lot, and Jane was of such a sweet and obliging nature that it was almost impossible to imagine an ill word from her lest one truly did something to wound her psyche. However, it was not just the presence of a customer that had led Rebecca to venture out; she was genuinely pleased to discover the eldest Miss Bennet in the shop. Miss Elizabeth was frequent enough in there that she might as well be a part of the general décor, and even Miss Mary took it upon herself on occasion to visit.



Miss Jane, however—nay, Miss Bennet, and Beccy shook her head slightly even as she moved to place a book in her hand upon the shelf level with Jane’s elbow. She had known the other young woman since her very infancy, being born to Meryton the same year in which Miss Elizabeth was borne – not yet one and twenty – but even had it not been some time since she had seen the fair blonde, manners and propriety (not to mention station) still dictated that for the moment, she’d be Miss Bennet. She was constantly scolding the twins for their casual playfulness, after all; it wouldn’t do for them to bear such tidings from their sister and then catch her out in her own lie. She would never hear the end of it.



Still, that did not mean she did not have a smile for Jane. And a smile Rebecca gave once she had placed her books away, genuine and dimpled and frank.

[MISS JANE BENNET]

Jane nearly choked on her own words when she heard them finished by an equally soft voice. With the tops of her ears steadily turning more pink by the second she snapped the book shut and regarded the young lady before her with a rather embarrassed look of chagrin. A silly girl caught up in her poetry and fanciful notions of love, that was not how Jane wished to be known around town. She had been that girl once and it nearly destroyed her. For all that lovebird folly she had been left with nothing but a broken heart and wounded pride.

So when asked if Jane sought the works of Mr. Donne’s for a particular reason her cheeks immediately followed her ears in kind, turning a soft pink in color. She had hardly noticed that Miss Levitt had made the mistake of addressing her by her given name. She had not been Jane to anyone outside of Longbourn for many years. As the eldest it was her right to be dressed as Miss Bennet always. Although she hardly minded if someone did address her as Jane for she liked to think she had friends among the community.

“ N..n…no. No particular reason.” she stammered, although her face betrayed her entirely. “ It’s been ages since I’ve read a good book and some years ago I had a fondness for poetry. I was simply seeing if it still remained.” she said gingerly placing the book back on the shelf before her, embarrassed to have even been caught perusing it’s pages.

She had known Miss Levitt since their very infancy and was comforted in the knowledge that perhaps it was not so bad that she had been discovered. She still remembered when they were girls still clinging to their mother’s skirts and Lizzie would drag Mrs. Bennet in here to peruse Mr. Levitt’s wares. His children had always been nearby and although perhaps Lizzie was better acquaintances with her than Jane was they were by no means unfriendly. Jane was fairly certain she would have died of shame had Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurts caught her reading poetry aloud like a lovesick school girl. But she knew perhaps her secret was safe for the moment. Not wishing to dwell on the prospect longer she decided distraction was her best form of defense.

“ Miss Levitt, perhaps you could help me. I thought I might like something to read. As you might be aware, my dearest sister monopolizes our library at Longbourn. Might you have any suggestions?” she asked hoping to direct her away from this very section.

[Miss Rebecca Levitt]

Beccy's dark eyes sparkled brightly even in the dim light at Jane's stuttered response, and for a moment, the blonde might very well have been reminded if not of her sister, then of perhaps why it was that she and the girl before her were kindred spirits of a sort. However, Rebecca's quieter nature was something of a kindness, for it meant she did not laugh outright, as sorely tempted as she might have been and as much as she needed to bite the inside of her cheek for that long moment.

It was a little tempting though, to pursue that particular line of enquiry. Jane had not been reading those words with an unbiased eye, and being the small town that beloved Meryton was (not to mention, with a mother like Mrs. Bennet), the occasional rumour already floated about. More so since the elder girl she admired so for her natural serenity (and that admittedly enviable fair hair) had been ill at Netherfield...or so she had heard. Perhaps it was wrong -- rumours often were. Why, she remembered one of them -- in which she had laughed aloud -- purely for its ridiculousness...that Jane had caught some dreaded disease from spirits in the woods. That they'd...what had it been? Not died...something about a soul.

...she'd be sorely tempted to share that notion with Miss Lizzie later on, that much was certain.

For now though, her kinder heart gave way and thus Rebecca allowed Jane to steer the conversation none too subtly away from the previous subject. Not that she minded -- already did the scholar in her turn her mind over a million miles a second at the question, though t'was admittedly a hard one to answer, as she was not quite sure what Miss Jane preferred these days. Still, the tiny young woman's nose crinkled slightly as it always did when she was in thought, and she crossed her arms as she regarded the shelves, leaning absently on one leg more so than the other, the motion obvious even under her skirt. All of it, a childhood habit she had never managed to shake in all her ears; it was something she simply did.

"If it is poetry you enjoy...might I suggest Cowper? He is...a relatively new name, but I have found his works thus far to be quite...intriguing in their...well, not their simplicity. I feel his writing is perfectly beautiful. But he is very down to earth, for lack of a better turn of phrase." Rebecca tilted her head to the side contemplatively. "You will find many poets write obscurely. Most write of romance. Others of the mystery of life. But Cowper has rather broken from the mold. He will still speak of such things, but a great deal of his work is rather...every day. Of every day things. Every day beauty, in nature and in other subjects. Every day miracles...if you believe in such a notion."

A slightly wry grin. "He rather appeals to the common man, I suppose. Lets him...or her believe, Miss Bennet."

[MISS JANE BENNET]

Oh dear, Jane knew that look. It was one Lizzie demonstrated quite often, especially when she was in the mood to express mirth and excitement. To say Jane was somewhat embarrassed would be something of an understatement. However though the expression might be the same, the young woman who wore it today took mercy upon her fragile ego and kept her tongue in check. For that fact Jane was grateful for she didn’t think she could bare it if she were to become an object of ridicule in Meryton.

Jane was aware of some of the rumors that already were circulating around Meryton. It was one of the great joys and perils of this town. Although Jane enjoyed the small town and how easy it was to make friends, it was also nearly impossible to keep anything a secret. Jane was a very private person born out necessity to survive society with Mrs. Bennet for a mother. But what was transpiring between herself and Mr. Bingley was a very fragile and delicate thing, she didn’t wish for anyone to destroy the bond they had formed out of jealousy or disdain. For Jane was certain that she would be crushed if she were to separated from Mr.Bingley.

Thankfully Miss Levitt had allowed her to steer the conversation away from Mr. Donne and the enamored fish and to more worldly topics. When Miss Levitt suggested Cowper a quizzical look crossed her face. Perhaps he was worth looking into. When Miss Levitt explained the natures of poets and their subject Jane’s ears kept their shade of pink when romance was mentioned. But Miss Levitt’s description of his work was intriguing. Perhaps it was the artist in Jane but she found that even the most every day of items had a certain beauty to them that was overlooked.
Jane smiled when she spoke of miracles, for Jane certainly did believe in such things. She found it to be a miracle she was blessed with such a family, with sisters whom loved her unconditionally. She found herself blessed to be the object of someone’s affections. Jane was never remiss in being thankful for the things she had.

“ Perhaps I shall give him a try. What of something more in the realm of fantasy? As appealing as Cowper sounds we experience every day things, well every day. Miss Elizabeth regards books as an escape from the humdrum of every day life. Perhaps such an escape is to be sought after.” she mused thoughtfully.