Pomp and Circumstance: A Pride and Prejudice Continuation

Chapter 9: An Illustrative Afternoon

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone's votes/reviews this week, I really appreciate it! This one's a bit longer, and definitely Mr.Crawford/Mary-centric. Hope you all enjoy!

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Mr. Crawford greeted them most graciously upon their arrival, and they were led into the drawing-room, where everything was set for a modest but satisfactory tea, and where there were several easels scattered about the room, each carrying a precise, exquisitely done drawing.

The colors were vivid and striking, and Georgiana, initial pleasantries completed, wasted no time in attending to the drawings, making her way to each one to examine them briefly, and then returning to the first to begin a lengthier study, where Elizabeth soon joined her.

Mary stood a little back, surveying the pieces at a distance. To her, it was somehow awkward to inspect one's work so blatantly in his presence. If she were to display her own work for the viewing of others, she would be certain to leave the room directly, as she wished Mr. Crawford would do now, for she did, indeed, wish to study the drawings in greater detail; but he made no indication of intending to leave them to their perusal, or of being in anyway discomfited; rather, he appeared quite untroubled and cheerful – Mary could not help but wonder if there was anything that unsettled him, or if he was simply always so vexingly at ease?

He had greeted her decorously, as he had Lizzy and Georgiana, but had shown her no particular attention thus far. But now he said, smiling, "I find a friendly competition always has the effect of infusing an otherwise dull afternoon with some liveliness – shall we say, a special prize awarded to those who can identify the Latin name of any of the species." And he looked particularly at her as he said it, as if the challenge had been made specially on her behalf. Mary felt herself redden.

Elizabeth, who had leaned down to closer examine a drawing, did not note the intended subject of his words, and only said, laughing, "Really, Mr. Crawford, I think it rather cruel to spring an examination on the unsuspecting, and under the guise of an amiable afternoon tea, moreover."

"I assure you, Mrs. Darcy, it is of a purely voluntary nature; no penalties or injuries shall be wrought for abstaining, I give you my word."

Georgiana, who had been quite absorbed in her own thoughts, now burst out, "Such beautiful colors! And such clarity - the flower truly comes to life on the page, I should never have managed such intricate linework!"

Mr. Crawford came over to stand beside her, hands crossed behind his back, and surveying the sketch, which was a flower of clumping petals shaded a winsome yellow, as if anew. "You are most generous, Miss Darcy. I fear the viewer's pleasure shall quickly become the engraver's dread, however – once I am to send it off, they should much prefer if I had merely scratched a few stray lines and declared it done. But I am glad to think my work is at least capable of providing some light diversion for an afternoon."

"Oh, yes!" said Georgiana. "It is so enlightening to see your illustrations here as they come into being, the work is so beautiful!"

"And I hope not too dull for you, Miss Bennet?"

Mary had tentatively moved forward to a drawing at the side of the room, where she was not directly in anyone's way or gaze. She had been examining the fine sketch, a flower with pointed petals which bloomed a blush-pink, when she was startled by the address towards herself, and found all the attention of the room was now inevitably drawn to her person.

She did not find it dull, in fact. The finished piece was quite different from the imprecise sketches which she had seen in the library, but it was nevertheless quite evident that both were done by the same masterful hand. The praise that Georgiana gave, Mary thought, was not inapt, for what immediately and unmistakably made impression on the viewer's eye were the colours and the linework; but to say that was the sum of it would have been to say the sum of Shakespeare was his meter. It was more intrinsic than that – there was an underlying quality of the works, which spoke of something greater than simple skill.