Chapter Text
"Between [Bingley] and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of great opposition of character."
During a time dedicated to studying, one would expect the primary activity to be that of—well, studying . One would not, however, have accounted for the wandering mind of a seventeen-year-old Charles Bingley. Our discussion invariably managed to shift from Latin classics to a myriad of unrelated topics, much to my consternation as I attempted to assist Mr. Bingley with his studies and did not entirely succeed.
“Darcy, will you not attend the gathering this evening? I daresay it will be quite enjoyable,” said the aforementioned student, addressing me, his rather harried helper.
“As much as I would like to discuss this evening’s activities, I am afraid it is still early afternoon and we must focus on the present. The present, of course, being an attempt to discuss Virgil’s Aeneid,” I returned. I had always been rather intimidated by the idea of gatherings with those I was not acquainted with. Bingley was one of the few to not take my silence as an indication of superciliousness when we first met at school, and we soon formed a stable friendship.
“Must we speak more of the Aeneid? I do not think I have the patience to study the classics. To be perfectly candid, I have doubts pertaining to the motifs emphasized in Virgil’s writing.”
Bingley’s smile betrayed the jest behind his rather impertinent words, yet I followed up on his comment in an attempt to steer the conversation towards our intended topic of discussion.
“I suppose you dislike the implication that we all have a duty to accept our fates?”
“While I am not partial to that theme, I take issue with Aeneas’ choice to abandon love for the good of the state when he left Dido. If I someday have such a love, I am quite sure that nothing would make me leave her. I do not think I could ever prioritize anything over those I love.”
I scoffed in response to this statement, but upon reflection appreciated the sentiment. I did think that my friend was far too amiable, something which had gotten him into quite a handful of predicaments, many of which he escaped thanks to my more reasonable counsel. At that moment, however, I found myself feeling uncharacteristically appreciative of his sentimental nature. Perhaps there was a certain virtue in affability after all.