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PROLOGUE

Posted on 2014-03-14

PROLOGUE

It is a truth universally acknowledged that respectable ladies may only accept large sums of money from their close relatives, and that for the sake of propriety even those relatives had much better be deceased. In certain cases of extreme distress, however, exceptions may be made. Miss Louisa Smith, at the respectable age of sixty, found herself in quite distressed circumstances. A gentlewoman by birth and education, she had been one of five daughters with very little fortune between them. In her youth she had been a governess, but the penury or the miserliness of her employers had prevented any stipend when her young charges reached maturity, and she had raised two families of children without securing any provision for her old age. She now found herself afflicted with an illness of tolerable seriousness, and as the doctor had prescribed sea-air she had resorted to the very inexpensive town of Crofton, to live in a small attic in the only lodging house in a town primarily known for its fishing industry. Even in such modest circumstances, her distance from London and her inability to perform the small errands and sewing jobs that brought her the most part of her daily bread had reduced her yet further and she was now absolutely in debt to her landlady. Having somewhat recovered from her lung affliction she wished to return to London, but the landlady had become so insolent in her demands for payment that Miss Smith feared she might find herself in the hands of the law if she attempted to depart before paying her debts. Thus deprived both of her livelihood and her means of paying her debts, her inquietude of mind daily grew, and it was beginning to seem likely that it would cause a return of that illness from which she had gained some respite, when her landlady knocked at her door one afternoon to announce that there were two gentlemen in the parlor.

"Miss Smith?" inquired a little man of at least her own age, as he stood from the settee and peered at her over his spectacles.

"That is my name," she replied, attempting to maintain her composure. She could not imagine that there could be good news in store for her.

"My name is Brown, George Brown, solicitor," the little man said, bowing slightly. "How do you do?"

"How do you do?"

"I have come here on a...er...rather unusual item of business. This gentleman," here he bowed to a fashionably dressed younger man who stood in front of the empty grate, "has a proposal for you. He felt it would be best if the local solicitor handled the matter."

"It is a somewhat extraordinary proposition, Miss Smith," said the younger man, "and I wish you to have every possible assurance that it is not all merely a product of my own invention. My name is Trelawney."

As this name conveyed no information to Miss Smith, she merely bowed, and gestured towards the settee while sinking onto a chair.

"Mr. Trelawney is the junior partner of one of the oldest and most respectable solicitor's firms in London," Mr. Brown assured her, resuming his position on the settee.

"My client," Mr. Trelawney began, "wishes to make a gift to a family of young ladies. Like you, they are five daughters, gently born and educated, but with very little fortune between them. You are a distant relative. Have you heard of the name of Bennet?"

Miss Smith considered briefly. "Perhaps, some twenty years ago."

"Your grandmother was sister to the young ladies' great-great grandmother," he said, with a dismissive wave of the hand. "You may have heard of them around the time of your cousin's wedding to Mr. Bennett. The point of importance is that, while Mr. Bennett has a comfortable estate, it is entailed in default of heirs male, which he lacks entirely. Even with an heir, five daughters is a great many to provide for, and my client wishes them to have fortunes. She is aware, however, that they will not accept one from someone so wholly unconnected with them as herself. From you, however, as a relative, they would accept, if you will pardon my speaking indelicately, a bequest."

Miss Smith, torn between indignation, confusion, and surprise, said nothing.

"I am aware," Mr. Trelawney continued casually, looking out of the window, "that you are not, at present, in a position to make such a bequest. If you yourself were endowed with a fortune, however, all would be made easy. In short, Miss Smith," he concluded, turning to gaze directly at her, "I am here to offer you such capital in the five percents as will yield the annual sum of six thousand pounds, on the condition that you leave a fortune of twenty thousands each to the Miss Bennetts." Having finished this extraordinary speech, he walked away to the window, and looked out.

Mr. Brown now came forward. "I must be aware that this is quite unusual," he began, "but he belongs to such a firm that I am quite convinced it can have no evil attached to it. Their name is their fortune; they handle the affairs of dukes and peers. The slightest breath of scandal would mean ruin to the fortunes of all those men now concerned in the firm, and only the greatest assurance of its all being perfectly respectable, however unorthodox, could convince them to be involved with such an affair in any way."

Miss Smith sat quite still, her head spinning.

"It is," Mr. Brown repeated, faltering, "certainly quite unusual, but there is nothing dishonest in it, and it is a very large fortune."

It was a very large fortune, indeed. Large enough for a man to raise a large family on, and still be quite wealthy. To her solitary self, accustomed to struggling for her daily bread, it was vast beyond counting. It would pay all her debts and allow her to remove to a more comfortable location, such as Brighton, or Lyme. She might live in absolute luxury for the remainder of her days, and still have thousands every year for charitable causes. She knew ladies upon whom whole families danced attendance, because they had some seven or eight hundred pounds per annum to leave where they liked. Six thousand--although five thousand of it would be accounted for, a thousand remained. She might find some poverty-stricken niece and adopt her, make her fortune, and secure to herself an affectionate companion for her declining years. She need never mend another's garments again, nor indeed her own. But what if it were dishonest in some way? It all seemed perfectly accounted for, and yet the whole affair was of so extraordinary a character that she could scarcely believe in its perfect uprightness.

She stood abruptly. "Gentlemen, may I have a few hours to consider the matter?" Surely it would be suspicious if she might not.

"Certainly," said Mr. Trelawney briskly, turning from the window. "Mr. Brown and I will be quite at your disposal for the rest of the day, at his offices. Tomorrow I must return to London in the morning. After that point, if you wish to accept the offer, you may call upon Mr. Brown to sign the papers. I will leave them with him."

He paused and smiled kindly at Miss Smith. "I believe that this project is very dear to my client, and that she will be patient for some time, but I nevertheless advise you to close with the offer as soon as may be. The advantage to your own circumstances, as well as to those of the Miss Bennets, hardly admits of delay."

He took up his hat and gloves but paused once more before making his adieus. "Regarding my client, Miss Smith--she is almost eccentric, but she is always kind, and always honest. I have never known any of her gifts to go awry, and I have handled quite a few. Good day, Miss Smith."

Mr. Brown likewise made his adieus and departed, and Miss Smith was left in possession of the apartment. A moment later her landlady came in.

"Well?" she asked, rather unpleasantly. "Have the gentlemen brought you news? Is there any chance of your paying what you owe?"

"Mrs. Clapton," inquired Miss Smith, wisely not hearing this last remark, "have you known Mr. Brown long?"

"All my life," responded the other, staring at her. "You look as if you've had a shock. Did he surprise you in some way? I shouldn't have thought him capable of surprising anybody."

"And have you ever known him to be in any way dishonest, or to mishandle anyone's affairs?"

Now the landlady stood a moment with a gaping mouth. "Has Mr. Brown gone and got in trouble?" she demanded.

"No, no, no," Miss Smith interjected hastily. "Only I want an assurance of his good character."

"He's as steady a one as I ever!" returned the landlady, with more conviction than grammar. "What's all this, then?"

Miss Smith drew herself to her full height. "Please see to it that I have a roast of mutton for dinner tonight, Mrs. Clapton, or a roast bird if mutton cannot be arranged, with potatoes and some peas. And make sure that Sally makes up my apartment before I return; I fear it is in a shocking state." And leaving a surprised and overawed Mrs. Clapton behind her, she swept out of the room.

The rest of the day's events were rapid. Mr. Trelawney and Mr. Brown had scarce gained the office ten minutes before her arrival, and were very glad indeed to see her. The papers were signed quickly and everything settled. A thousand pounds per annum she might leave where she liked, and Mr. Trelawney would be happy to call in at her family solicitor's and arrange that the poor annual sum of ten pounds, which she had been drawing, should be transferred to his handling. Quarter-day had just come, and she might consider the sum of fifteen hundred pounds quite at her immediate disposal. He had brought a hundred pounds with him, in notes and silver, that she might have no inconvenience in her travels. Upon hearing her intention of removing to Brighton, he recommended a respectable solicitor in that place, with whom his firm often had dealings, that she might not be obliged to be continually going to London, if her health did not permit it.

On her way home from Mr. Brown's office she called at the only shop of consequence in the place, and then at several tradesmen's; finally she walked slowly along the coast, breathing deeply of the air. By the time she returned to Mrs. Clapton's boarding house she had been preceded by several small boys bearing packages. The landlady was so overawed by this evidence of recent spending, coming in connection with a visit from solicitors as it was, that she would probably have been willing to remove Miss Smith's things from the small attic to the largest apartment on the ground floor, facing the sea, almost without being handed five guineas, in that careless way, and told that it ought to cover her debts and future expenses, as she would be leaving soon.

Miss Smith did leave, as soon as her dresses could be got back from the dressmaker's, and her trunk from the carpenter's, for she was adamant that she would not go to Brighton looking, in her own words, "an old wreck." There she lived in comfort for the rest of her years, which were about five, taking the sea air daily, being kind to the poor, and especially to the poor niece she had adopted. When she left this world, she left that niece sorrowing for her departure, but enabled to marry a young gentleman who was just beginning to make his way in life as a barrister, but who being without connection would have spent some five or ten years before he could have kept them both, let alone a young family. And thus let our story leave them, at the end of one happily ever after and the beginning of another, and remove into Hertfordshire.

CHAPTER ONE

Mr. Bennet frowned at the letters beside his plate. Humbert, Edwards and Trelawney were one of the largest solicitor's firms in London, but he had never had any dealings with them. He hoped one of his neighbors was not disposed to be litigious, though he could not imagine why they should have used a London firm if so. Mr. Phillips was, perhaps, a trifle too jovial on occasion, but he was sober and reliable enough in the mornings. He broke the seal and perused the missive, but he had to read it twice before it seemed at all plausible. After breakfast, he retired to his study looking more thoughtful than usual, and Sedgwick, the faithful old butler, wondered very much at finding three letters on the table in the hall that afternoon, for he knew Mr. Bennett to be a most dilatory correspondent, even on matters of great importance. He began, therefore, to take more notice than usual of the mail, and in two days' time was pleased to see that his master received several more letters. He spoke in confidence to Mrs. Hill later that day, wondering that there should be such goings-on between his master and solicitors in London. "And I'll wager," he assured her, "that it means good news for our young ladies, and some distant relation has died and left them something."

"It cannot be much," Hill replied. "We should certainly have heard about it if there were expectations."

"Perhaps," replied Sedgwick, "but in a family of five daughters, even if there should be an heir, some small fortune for the girls would be most welcome." To this Hill could only assent.

"My dear Mr. Bennett," said his lady to him a fortnight later, "the most wonderful thing has happened! A young Mr. Reynolds, a relative of the famous painter at court, has come to the countryside to paint."

"Has he, my dear?" inquired Mr. Bennet absently, without raising his eyes from his paper.

"He has indeed, Mr. Bennett, and he will teach the daughters of anyone that wishes to learn, while he is here." Mrs. Bennet nodded significantly, and seated herself at the worktable.

"I see. And you believe that some of our daughters would like to improve their drawing?" he asked, casting his eye over his assembled family. Jane, at fourteen, was capable of exerting herself in that direction, and Lizzy had a good, critical eye. Mary could certainly be introduced to principles, but he doubted whether Kitty and Lydia were old enough to garner much lasting benefit from instruction.

"I should love to learn to sketch, Papa!" cried Elizabeth. "I could draw the view from Oakham Mount!" She flashed her father an arch smile, which her mother did not understand.

Mrs. Bennet frowned. "I dislike you to walk so far from the house, Lizzy; you are much too young to go alone, and the housemaids cannot be always spared."

"Ah, but Mrs. Bennet, if the girl is to develop any accomplishments, we must assist her!"

"Very true, Mr. Bennet, very true; well, I suppose we could spare Betsy some afternoons, if Lizzy and Jane were to go together and draw. I would make any sacrifice to help my girls; for you know, Mr. Bennet, that they will have little enough fortune between them, on account of that iniquitous entail, and so we must see to it that they have other attractions."

"Very little?" inquired Mr. Bennet, turning over his paper. "Well, I suppose you are right, Mrs. Bennet; a thousand a year is perhaps not quite enough to raise a family upon; still, I think we may flatter ourselves that our girls may find a man with a little fortune of his own, or an honorable profession, and so live very comfortably. After all, we ourselves have managed tolerably well on only twice that amount, and it is usual for the gentleman to bring more financial resources to a marriage than the lady."

"A thousand a year? Mr. Bennet! Whatever can you be talking of? You know the girls will only have a thousand pounds capital each; that will never bring them a thousand a year!"

Mr. Bennet laid aside his paper and folded his hands comfortably. "Ah, my dear, there I must contradict you. As we cannot cut off the entail, the girls will have nothing from the estate, but they will each have a thousand pounds from you, and twenty thousand from my cousin."

"From--from your cousin!" Mrs. Bennet, though not much accustomed to activity, leapt from her chair, and turned pale and then red by turns. "Mr.--Mr. Bennet!" she cried, and fell back into the seat, fanning herself furiously. "What are you talking of? Come, my dear, do not keep me in suspense!"

"A few weeks ago, my dear, I received a communication from a very respectable solicitor's firm in London, to the effect that a distant relative of mine intended to leave a hundred thousand pounds to our children. As we have five daughters, the division seems reasonable."

"One hundred thousand pounds! A thousand a year! My girls!" Jane and Elizabeth, though surprised into silence themselves by such news, were summoned to action by the exigencies of their mother's shock, and, Elizabeth fetching some water, and Jane some smelling salts, hurried to attend to her.

"London!" cried Mrs. Bennet suddenly, sitting bolt upright again. "Never mind about young Mr. Reynolds, we must go to London for all the best masters! Young ladies with a fortune of twenty thousand pounds will certainly be expected to be very accomplished, and then they shall have very rich husbands."

Mr. Bennet looked mildly over the top of his spectacles. "My dear, I really must protest. I cannot see that our daughters must be accomplished in order to catch husbands without having a fortune, and even more accomplished to catch husbands when they have one."

"Oh, but Mr. Bennet! You must know I mean them to marry much richer men than I should have thought of before! We must go to London, and they will have seasons, and come out properly, and meet and marry such lovely men!"

"My dear," said Mr. Bennet firmly, "I have received a letter to the effect that our daughters are to be heiresses each of twenty thousand pounds. I do not, however, have those funds within my grasp at present, and we live so comfortably here at Longbourn that a London season is quite without our reach at present."

"Do you mean to say, my dear, that we may not go to London until the girls inherit?"

"I do."

"Oh, but Mr. Bennet, your cousin may not die for an age!"

Elizabeth and Jane were sensible enough to blush for their mother, and Jane, attempting to smooth the situation over by turning the subject a little, inquired as to the lady's name.

"Her name is Miss Smith," replied Mr. Bennet, looking over the letter which he had withdrawn from his coat, "and she was also one of five daughters. She is sixty years of age, and lives at Brighton. She has an affliction of the lungs which the sea air does a great deal to assist. I do not think, Mrs. Bennet," he concluded, looking up, "that you need worry that she will much outlive your daughters' girlhood. I have very little doubt that she will oblige you by dying before Jane turns twenty."

With that final sally, Mr. Bennet removed himself from the parlor and from all his wife's exclamations.

Mrs. Bennet was in raptures and nervous fits by turns over the next few weeks, feeling all the delight of a mother whose daughters have been left fortunes, and all the frustration of one who has been refused the capacity to educate them in a manner befitting their station in life. To the suggestion that Jane or Lizzy should go to school in London, Mr. Bennet had been vehemently opposed. "And allow them to be screwed out of health and into vanity! No, no, Mrs. Bennet, we are very well as we are. Jane and Lizzy have done well enough at scrambling themselves into a little education, and I flatter myself that our younger daughters may follow their example." To her insistence that they must all go to London for the season, in order to take advantage of masters for the girls, he was likewise steadfastly opposed; he would hire no more servants, nor improve their dress allowance, nor lay out other monies, until such time at least as the girls came into their inheritance. She did gain one point however: Mr. Bennet did agree to allow the older three girls to receive instruction from Mr. Reynolds, for such time as he was in the country.

He bore all her exclamations on the necessity of the girls being presented at St. James' with perfect equanimity. "For, to be sure, they will have more money than Sir William Lucas ever did, and he cannot cease talking of it! Certainly they must be presented." To these attacks he would only reply, that as their income was currently disposed, nothing further could be done until Miss Smith should have the courtesy to depart for the next world. Mrs. Bennet, though very ill-satisfied at anything that did not promise a regular London season for herself and all her family, had to be content in the confidence, which she very often expressed, that Mr. Bennet could not be so very ill-natured as to refuse such heiresses the London season every year, when once they come into their money. Even with so small a gain as a drawing-master she was, however, very pleased, and she never went to bed without saying a grateful prayer for Miss Smith's happiness, or privately wishing her ill health.

CHAPTER TWO

The knowledge of the Miss Bennets' inheritance, which was rapidly spread all over Longbourn and the nearby village of Meryton, improved them greatly in the opinions of the inhabitants of the surrounding country. They had long been considered sweet, pretty girls, but a fortune made them eligible, as the mamas of the neighborhood soon noticed.

"And I think it a great pity," said Mrs. Long to Mrs. Phillips, "for it will give them a sense of consequence, to which they were not brought up, and for which they are ill prepared. Jane is fully fourteen, and though she sings beautifully, she plays not a note, and cannot draw. Her hand is elegant, to be sure, and her stitching very fine; she would make a charming wife to a clergyman with a thousand a year. But now Mrs. Bennet will be throwing her in the way of rich men--you will see, Lucy, they will take her to London a-purpose--and when she is out in fashionable Society, lawks! won't she be embarrassed."

"Nothing of the sort!" cried Mrs. Phillips, "for they are all to learn from Mr. Reynolds, and no doubt Mr. Bennet will engage a governess as soon as may be. Jane rides beautifully, and may parade the Ladies' Mile every morning in London, if she chooses. And if she should draw the eye of a man with four or five, or even seven or eight, thousand a year, I am sure I shan't be half surprised! A girl so pretty as that, has always been meant for more than a vicar's wife--and her air and manner so gentle and sweet, I declare she would not shame a baronet!"

Lady Lucas took her fair share in the gossip about the neighborhood; she was a friend to Mrs. Bennet, and inclined to take her part, but then she would look at Charlotte, and sigh. "And yet, Sir William, I believe it may yet work out to our advantage," she said to him one evening, as they went to bed. "There cannot be very many gentlemen who would be willing to marry a girl of very little fortune, or who could afford to. If the others are all drawn off, Charlotte will have a better chance. And who knows but that her friendship with the Bennet girls may not yet lead to something. If they make great marriages, I make no doubt they will have her to stay with them, and then she may meet some handsome young rector, or a rich widower, and be settled better than she should be otherwise."

Whatever Charlotte may have thought on the subject, she betrayed no jealousy. Expectations were all very well, and she rejoiced in her friends' good prospects, but as the Bennets continued to live in much the same style as they had before, their prospects were no bar to the growing intimacy between herself and the oldest two girls.

The young gentlemen of the neighborhood were almost unaffected by the announcement at the time. Once Jane, and then Elizabeth, began to attend assemblies and dances, the gentlemen found sufficient material for admiration in the beauty of the one, and the liveliness of the other, without their fortunes entering largely into the matter. That the young men were not discouraged by their parents from forming any more material plans was a more substantial aid, but though the girls were widely admired, in each case it seemed to stop at admiration. Jane was very serene, and her feelings deep, but her heart was unlikely to be won by any man who did not display as much gentle amiability as herself. She was determined to think well of everyone, and though usually accomplishing that end, she could not feel more than common friendship for a man less kind than herself, and her lack of encouragement was sufficient to discourage the young swains of the immediate neighborhood. Elizabeth's wits, long sharpened upon her father's, were quick enough to amuse the neighboring gentlemen, but also served to keep them at bay. She found her greatest enjoyment in sketching characters, but she could not be attached, where she could not respect abilities equal to her own, and in those the neighborhood about Meryton was sadly lacking.

CHAPTER THREE

Miss Smith fulfilled all Mr. Bennet's expectation by dying in the summer of Jane's nineteenth year, and leaving her money exactly as she had promised. There was then a dreadful flurry of arrangements: papers to be signed and trips to be taken. To attend the funeral was an impossibility, for though her illness was chronic, the fit that carried her off was sudden, and by the time that the severity of the attack was known to the Bennets, she had been twenty-four hours in her grave. The combination of her inability to leave the coast and the sea air, and her small establishment, so ill suited to large numbers of guests, in addition to both Mr. Bennet's unwillingness and her own to make Miss Smith responsible for a young, unmarried lady in so lively a place as Brighton, had led to the peculiar consequence that, though her heirs, the Bennets had never met Miss Smith in her life. A portrait of her, commissioned by herself and hanging prominently in the drawing room, where its placement and the neighbors' questions might give Mrs. Bennet an excuse to speak at length on her girls' good fortune, and a pleasant if not very frequent correspondence, was all the intimacy they had ever had with her. The impecunious niece whom she had adopted, and who had resided with her until her death, had made all the funeral arrangements, and written to the Bennets to inform them of her aunt's demise.

The legal papers, however, could not be settled with so little trouble to Mr. Bennet, and it was impossible that he should not go to London on the occasion. In discussing this with his lady, she discovered that he had no intention of taking the entire family with him, and staying for the little season, nor did he have any plan at all of going to London any more often than ever he had. This news distressed her severely. "Have you ever heard the like? A family of five daughters, each with twenty thousand pounds, not to go to London for the season! Not to have new clothes and bonnets in the latest fashion! Mr. Bennet, we shall be the laughing-stock of all Hertfordshire!"

"That is as may be, Mrs. Bennet, but I should have to laugh at myself if I made a trip expressly for the purpose of buying fine clothes for young ladies who are going into mourning. I shall, however, hope to satisfy you, for I shall purchase as much black bombazine as you like, while I am there."

"Really, Mr. Bennet, you know we need not wear all black for so distant a relative; indeed if she had not left the girls an inheritance we should not wear any mourning at all; however we shall make up new dresses with deep flounces, and after that the oldest girls must have entirely new clothes, for Jane and Lizzy are quite old enough to come out in style. I must ask Lady Lucas how many yards of cloth are needed for a train--but I suppose my sister Gardiner will know, and can tell me when we are once arrived in London. And we must have feathers, you know; they are quite required at St. James's."

Mr. Bennet never attended very much to his wife's speeches on fashion, but he had heard enough to reply: "I hope, Mrs. Bennet, that you are not intending to present our daughters at Court."

"Certainly I am! Why, Sir William Lucas was presented, and his income is not half so good as your own!"

"My dear Mrs. Bennet," said her husband with uncharacteristic seriousness, "Sir William's income is neither here nor there. It had nothing whatever to do with the reasons he was presented, and he has scarcely been to St. James's since. We are very happy here at Longbourn, but by the standards of the Court, I am an insignificant country squire, and to present our daughters there would merely make us a laughing stock."

"Well, well, you may be right. Indeed, Mr. Bennet, I am sure you are quite correct. We will open a good house and throw a great many parties in a very elegant style, and then we will take the girls to St. James's, when everybody in London knows all about their fortunes, and your cleverness has won them all over."

Mr. Bennet cast his eyes to heaven, and would make no answer to such folly.

"But where shall we take a house, Mr. Bennet? In Russell Square? I have not been to London for so many years--perhaps I should write my sister Gardiner."

"I assure you, my dear, I have no intention of taking a house in Town."

"Oh, but now that the girls have come into their inheritance, surely there can be no reason for staying at home. Why, taken together it is fully five thousand a year. There can be no difficulty in keeping a very good house."

"I am sure, my dear Mrs. Bennet, that you would not wish to squander our daughters' inheritance on fast living, and unhappily our own income is entirely spent here at Longbourn."

"Oh, Mr. Bennet! But surely you will accept some small sum from the girls, that we may keep house in a style befitting the parents of five rich daughters! It is quite the accustomed thing, I am sure of it, for Lady Lucas was telling me of several ladies in town, who lived upon their daughters' inheritances, and several of the girls made quite splendid matches!"

"Mrs. Bennet," replied her husband, very gravely, "I have no objection to having the management of my daughters' fortunes; and I will happily administer those monies for their education, their happiness, or even, to a certain degree, their dress; but not a brass farthing will I spend on our own household. You, my dear," he added more kindly, "keep such a fine house, and such a good table, that I am sure they can have nothing to wish for."

"Oh, but my dear! They must make grand matches someday, and I do not wish them to be overwhelmed by the style they will find in London! To be sure, Mr. Bennet, we must do everything in a much grander style than before."

He merely took up his paper again and answered drily, "I am sure that they will manage to conceal their astonishment until such time as they become quite accustomed to it."

Mrs. Bennet persisted in this vein for several days, but Mr. Bennet would not yield, and in the end the lady had to be satisfied with writing to Mrs. Gardiner, her brother's wife, and entrusting her with a substantial shopping list for the girls, for which items Mr. Bennet promised to pay. If the good sense of Mrs. Gardiner, and the prudence of Mr. Bennet, removed a few items from the list, Mrs. Bennet was too well pleased with having such muslins and ribbons, laces and fashion plates, as she did receive, to repine very much over the rest.

The change in the fortunes of the Miss Bennets could not occur without some little alteration at home, however. A maid was engaged for the girls, and indeed, as there were five daughters, she had enough to do, and the housemaids were pleased to find their work lessened. An addition to the stables of the house, and to its servants, was likewise made, and all the daughters of the house taught to ride. Mr. Bennet did eventually concede, with a resigned smile, that an extra pair of horse might be kept for the carriage, in order that the farm might have his sometimes, though he would not allow his lady to insist that their daughters should give up the benefits to health and independence reaped from frequent walking.

The greatest alteration to their daily lives came in the form of a small woman, with plain dress, sharp features, and very bright eyes, who was to be governess to the younger girls. Miss Grey was of good family, but possessed of no fortune beyond her wits and an excellent education. She was stern and somewhat dictatorial in her manner toward her charges, though deferential to her employers, and was thus better suited to form the characters of young ladies than to be a confidante to those just setting out in the world. She was, however, of so upright a character, such good information, and so many more trivial accomplishments as to outweigh these disadvantages. Mr. Bennet being not only willing but glad to pay for those accomplishments which she possessed, they readily came to an agreement, and she joined the family not a month after the affairs of Miss Smith were settled.

To Jane and Elizabeth, whose characters were fixed and whose love of learning needed no spur, Miss Grey was able to bring some pleasure, for she played both harp and pianoforte. The harp had long been a favorite with Jane, and it was so well suited as an accompaniment to her sweet voice that her family had encouraged her in it whenever masters were available. Now, however, as it was possible for her to have her own instrument and regular instruction, it was scarcely three months before she could play well enough to accompany herself with sufficient skill to give pleasure to the listeners and the performer alike. Elizabeth's performance on the pianoforte improved likewise, for Jane practiced so steadily, that she was shamed into practicing with a degree of regularity that surprised even herself.

Miss Grey was likewise very capable with a sketchbook. Jane had a great deal of taste but little talent for art, but Elizabeth could frequently catch an expression, or a turn of countenance, to such a degree as to make even the stoic governess exclaim, and sketches and water-colors of such members of the family as could be induced to sit for them soon adorned the walls of Longbourn and the homes of their friends and relatives.

To Mary, however, Miss Grey's arrival was hardly less a harbinger of change than the announcement that she would have a fortune. Though not blessed with Jane's loveliness (for at fifteen it seemed unlikely that she would ever blossom into a beauty) or Elizabeth's quickness, her very reasonable desire to excel in some area met its perfect match in her sketchbook. Her admiration for Mr. Reynolds's skill, as he had taught her some years ago, had amounted nearly to reverence, and she had practiced diligently with that little instruction she had been given. The results of some six month's tuition given at such an early age must always be very uncertain, and her drawings had been until recently pedantic and ungraceful. Under Miss Grey's regular instruction, however, her skill improved rapidly. Her sketches were very faithful, her watercolors very pleasing, and she made such rapid progress that everybody was delighted, and declared her quite the artist of the family.

CHAPTER FOUR

Mrs. Bennet was very full of her injury in not being allowed to go to Town, and it could hardly be supposed that Mr. Gardiner was a stranger to it. When the family came to Longbourn for Christmas, however, he was astonished to find that it was Mr. Bennet's professed intention never to visit London, unless on business.

"I am not surprised that you choose not to go to Town this winter, Thomas," he said to Mr. Bennet after dinner one day, "for you are hardly out of your mourning for Miss Smith, and your household must still be about your ears. But I am surprised to hear you say that you will not go next year."

"I do not know why the change in my daughter's fortunes should affect my disinclination for Town," remarked Mr. Bennet dryly, passing the sherry.

"Well, well, but we all of us have to take some trouble for our families," returned Mr. Gardiner comfortably.

"If I could see any benefit to my family, Mr. Gardiner, I daresay I should see my duty. But I cannot feel that any benefit is likely to come from parading my daughters on the marriage marts of London."

"Come, come, Bennet! Better men than myself have been found there," replied Mr. Gardiner good-humoredly. "The girls must marry sometime."

"Must they?" Mr. Bennet asked, avoiding the other's eye.

"They are certain to be asked. They have wit, and sweetness, and beauty enough to attach a man, and fortune enough to make them eligible."

"Yes, I think they are certain to be asked. But they need not accept."

"Need not! My dear Thomas, you make marriage sound like a particularly unpleasant duty. No, they need not. But they will want the independence, affection and importance of their own establishment."

Mr. Bennet frowned. "I do not think any of my daughters equal to marrying for independence and consequence."

"Affection is wanted, certainly, but where they meet a man who is capable of valuing them properly, it is an easy enough thing to form an attachment."

"Yes, it is easy enough to fall in love, and easy enough to repent of it where the acquaintance is short," said Mr. Benet bitterly. "I would rather my girls marry someone where they live, that we may all be a little more sure of his character and the suitability of his temperament than is possible on a month's acquaintance in London."

"Who, for example?" asked Mr. Gardiner calmly.

Mr. Bennet toyed with his glass, but did not reply.

At last Mr. Gardiner sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Well, my dear Mr. Bennet, I have no wish to interfere in the running of your family. But I know you see the uncommon gifts of your oldest two girls, at least. I have seen no man in the families you visit capable of valuing Jane's sweetness as he ought, and certainly none equal to Lizzy's wit."

After another pause, Mr. Bennet spoke almost peevishly. "Well, and what would you recommend?"

"A stay in London of longer duration. Greater knowledge of a man's character and habits takes more time. Come immediately after Christmas, and stay until Easter. Take a house of your own, and entertain a little."

"My income will hardly allow that."

Mr. Gardiner smiled, unperturbed. "You know as well as I do that the girls' income is intended to be spent precisely upon that. Indeed, Mr. Bennet, if you do not spend it so, there may be questions."

"They would be very impertinent."

"That would not be likely to silence them. Come, Thomas, you have always cared more for what is right than what is commonly done, but sometimes they may be the same. I know you are fond enough of your girls, and a kind enough father, to want to see them settled, and in a way to be happy. Tell me that we may see you in Town this winter, and that you will stay for the full season. Tell me at least that you will consider it. At the very least," he added more cheerfully, "tell me that you do not resent my interference."

This last appeal was too much for Mr. Bennet. "I hope I shall never be so thoroughly unreasonable as to resent advice which is given for the perceived benefit of my family, from one who is so closely connected with me. I shall consider what you say, and you may perhaps have all the joy of being troubled to find us a good house in a month's time."

Mr. Gardiner gave Mr. Bennet some few days to consider his recommendation and talk himself into his duty, after which he made his second proposal. If Jane and Elizabeth would accompany the Gardiners to Town upon their return, they might be of material assistance in managing some of the little Gardiners in the coach, and thus get themselves and much of their luggage conveyed to London. Mr. Bennet's coach might carry half the party half the way, after which they might transfer to a post-chaise for the remainder of the trip. "And with the two oldest already in London, when you come, you and Mrs. Bennet may travel in comfort with your three girls and the necessary servants, in your own coach and a post-chaise, and our own coach after the half-way point, and send any remaining luggage along by wagon."

"Come now, Edward, I believe you are trying to frighten me with my duty and then relieve me of it! With any luck the girls will be engaged in two weeks," said Mr. Bennet sardonically. He was, however, glad enough to accept the proposal, and two nights later, he summoned his oldest two daughters to his study.

"Well, Lizzy, Jane," said he, "Your uncle has been scolding me for failing to take my daughters out into Society properly, and parade them about as I ought, before the eligible young men." A quick smile here convinced Elizabeth that the conversation had not been quite as he represented it. "He is quite right, of course; it is the duty of every father to get rid of his daughters as quickly as he may, and to assist them in hunting down eligible husbands. Therefore, I have made up my mind that the whole family shall go to Town this coming winter, and stay for the length of the season. Not that we shall have anything to do there, for we know nobody except your aunt and uncle, and such of the inhabitants of Longbourn and Meryton as will be going themselves, and with whom we might have had a more reasonable and convenient intercourse at home. Not only that, but the whole will come at a fearful expense, and I am afraid you girls' income must bear it. It has not very much else to do, in truth, but still, you two are old enough and sensible enough to answer for the five of you, I think. What say you: shall we go to London? Have I your absolution for dispersing your money in such prodigal endeavors?"

Jane looked a little troubled by her father's raillery, but Elizabeth immediately answered him in the same style:

"Oh! to be sure, Papa, to London we must go. We must have a carriage and four, with two tall footmen in powdered wigs, and we must call upon Lady Jersey, and leave six cards. But the money must be spent, else a thousand a year would pile up dreadfully, and soon we would be very rich, and all the wastrels of London would hunt us like elephants. Poor Papa! How dull it will be for you. But we will take a house with a good situation for Mama, near the Park for myself and Jane, and with a very good library for you, and we will call on my aunt and uncle Gardiner as often as may be. There we may hear a little sense to outweigh all the fripperies of London."

This was precisely the sort of thing Mr. Bennet wanted to hear, and between the girls' pleasure at the prospect of spending time with their acquaintance in London and their relatives in Gracechurch Street, Lizzie's half-soothing, half-teasing remarks to himself, and his daughters' assurance that it was a very reasonable way to spend the money, he was soon coaxed into a better humor.

In truth, though the Miss Bennets' money would be necessary to a season in London, it would not be much hurt by it. Mr. Bennet's income was quite equal to a quiet month or two in Town, or would have been had not his lady spent more than she ought at home, and his chief financial dread of a London season was what she might lay out there. His daughters' incomes would be drawn upon but lightly for their own private purposes, but he settled it with himself that he would--that he must--be willing to draw upon them to defray the charges Mrs. Bennet would doubtless incur in entertaining and in dressing the girls as she thought they ought to be dressed. He could hardly prevent her going out shopping, or deny her credit in Bond Street.

A little peevishness seemed to come over Mr. Bennet about this time. He yielded to the necessity of London with no very good humor, and seemed resolved on contesting every dependent point, however reasonable. With a sufficiency of unreason, he was met on the part of his lady: for that going to London must entail a house in Grosvenor Square, the purchase of a second carriage, and accompaniment by all their own horses, that the girls might ride the Ladies' Mile every morning, she was quite sure. Mr. Bennet seemed almost to work off his displeasure at the trip, in frustrating so many of her designs. He determined to find a handsome and comfortable house in the less fashionable neighborhood of Sloane Street, though he did yield so far as to allow that, should it have stables, they might bring their own carriage horses, though they would travel slowly; for his lady had made it plain that the job horses would be called upon every day were he to be so disagreeable as to refuse her their own. In general, however, she was sufficiently pleased to be going to London to be ready to yield in the smaller particulars.

"And so to London! And what do you think of our projected adventure?" said Elizabeth to her sister that night, as she climbed into bed.

"I am surprised that you should ask, Lizzy--you know I must be looking forward to it with pleasure. I am always happy to spend time with my aunt and uncle in London."

"Jane, you know perfectly well Mama and Papa have other ideas for our trip--indeed, I daresay everybody does, for my aunt and uncle seem as inclined to marry you off as anybody else."

Jane protested gently against this notion, but Elizabeth shook her head.

"No, no, it will not do. You shall not persuade me against all the evidence. Papa has said it himself. We shall have to face the grim truth, my dear sister: we are sent off to London in order to find a husband for you. We must find somebody who is rich for Mama's sake, sensible for Papa's, and for yourself, agreeable and very handsome. It will be a difficult business, to be sure! However, with your beauty, sweetness, and fortune, I think we may yet carry it off."

"Lizzy! Do be serious. You know I have no intention of hunting for a husband in London."

"Indeed, and that is why Mama must undertake the task."

"Lizzy, I am not eager to fall in love."

"No, but you are a single woman in possession of a good fortune, and must be in want of a home and husband."

"I do not feel as though I were in want of anything."

"That is because you have the virtue of contentment," said Elizabeth sententiously, and then, laughing: "Come, Jane, you must want to wed someday. And who would you marry here?"

"I will be frank, Lizzy. I would like to marry someday--and I have not yet seen a man I could love. But I am not the only one," said Jane with a gentle smile. "There are no young men in the neighborhood who can keep up with your wit--sometimes I think you half frighten them. I do not think I am the only one being sent to London to find a husband."

Elizabeth bit her lip. "I fear you are right, Jane. Heigh-ho, a-husband-hunting we shall go! But there--my requirements shall be quite as stringent as yours. I do not wish," she added, suddenly serious, "to marry without both esteem and affection. I care nothing for the rest."

"And so it is with me," said Jane, grasping her sister's hand affectionately. "Come, there is no reason to be grave. We are not compelled to marry."

"No, only to dance," laughed Elizabeth. "Well, we shall keep our wits about us, and I have little doubt we may do well enough."

CHAPTER FIVE

Posted on 2014-03-17

Mr. Gardiner's plan was received with delight by Elizabeth and Jane, as they had always pleasure in the company of their aunt and uncle, and in that of their children. It would not be the first trip to London for either of them, as they had often gone to Town before in much the same way. The roads and the weather were good, and in caring for the children's needs, and amusing away the tediousness of travel for them, the time passed with tolerable speed, and they arrived in Gracechurch Street to a late dinner.

The next morning, after Jane had written to their parents, and Lizzy to Charlotte Lucas, to inform them of their safe arrival, Mrs. Gardiner proposed that they should all drive out, and look at a house in Sloane Street, which she had been informed was empty by that morning's post. "It is very handsome, and has its own stables and garden, which will be convenient," she said, "but I have not been into it these three years, and I heard that Miss King, who had it before, had done something positively outré with the paper in the morning room, so we had better look at it before recommending that Mr. Bennet take it."

An application to the housekeeper to see the house produced the desired result, for she and the single housemaid in residence were most obliging in removing the covers from the furniture, and opening the drapes, and were rewarded by hearing the girls pronounce everything satisfactory. "The library certainly was a little old, and any work newer than five years ago was wanting, but the rooms were a good size and quite cheerful; the furniture handsome if not entirely modern, and no drafts were discernible. And besides, there is room enough for the horses, which will please Mama. And then Jane and I have settled it between us, to order Papa a score of new volumes, that he may have something to please him, and to occupy his time, when he arrives."

Mrs. Gardiner approved it as a generous and well-considered plan, and was kind enough to take them directly to Hatchard's. There the girls ordered some twenty volumes and, as they were concluding their business, some acquaintance of Mrs. Gardiner's came in.

Mrs. Ellison was a bustling woman in her middle years with a handsome face and good-humored countenance. She had been brought up in London and married a wealthy man from the north of England. Raised with a good income, she had always dressed well and had a phaeton at her disposal as a matter of course, but she found the chief pleasure of her wealth in the exercise of hospitality and the giving of good dinners. Had she talked a little less she would have had a reputation for more cleverness, but as it was hardly anyone could dislike, though not everybody admired, her. Her daughter, who followed her into the shop, had married Sir John Hartwick, a baronet from her father's county; she was rather tall, dark haired, and very quiet, and had hardly a word to say to anybody.

"How do you do, Mrs. Gardiner?" began Mrs. Ellison, as soon as she had seen the other. "What a pleasure to see you! I was intending to come call on you this very day. We just came to Town a few days ago, but I just sent up my card. It would take two days else, you know--so very fortunate, to have so many kind friends. You know my daughter: Lady Hartwick, now. Weddings are so tiring! I hardly knew there could be any such amount of work--the number of wedding clothes! But we're very happy, very happy indeed; Sir John is a very good young man, and the two of them are so sincerely attached. It is hard to lose one's children, but we are near each other, at least, both in the country and in town, and so we are very comfortable. You'll find out all about that in a few years yourself, I daresay. And who are these charming young ladies?"

Elizabeth could not but smile at such a good-humored effusion; she was, however, able to compose herself in sufficient time for Mrs. Gardiner to perform the introductions.

"Oh! Nieces of yours! I'm delighted to meet you, my dears. I have heard you speak of them, Mrs. Gardiner, but we have never happened to meet. What a delightful opportunity--so glad we found you here. You must bring them tomorrow night, indeed you must. The young people must have a few pleasures, you know; and I hope they will enjoy our little dinner. It will be no trouble to add a few places, none at all. Of course they must come. We will not have many young people to meet you," she added, turning towards the young ladies, "but there will be Sir John and my daughter, and my son George, and a few other people. I do hope you will come."

Jane and Elizabeth professed themselves very ready to dine out with their aunt and uncle.

"Oh! That is capital! We will see if we cannot make you comfortable. How long do you mean to stay in Town?"

"My father and mother are coming to Town in a fortnight, and we will all make a stay of some few months," replied Jane. "My Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were kind enough to bring us up after Christmas."

"Oh! Well, I cannot say that I am surprised, for Mrs. Gardiner is really the soul of kindness, but it was amiable of her, was it not?"

Mrs. Gardiner colored, but before she could interpose, Mrs. Ellison was calling upon her daughter to agree with her. "Is not Mrs. Gardiner the very soul of kindness, Augusta? I am sure you remember all the trouble she took when you were so ill."

Lady Hartwick smiled and bowed, but vouchsafed no answer. She was so reserved, upon the whole, that Elizabeth wondered if she were perhaps displeased at her mother speaking to a merchant's wife, in so public a place, but a moment later had to acknowledge that she might have taken the part of wisdom, for her mother was speaking again before she could have finished the most commonplace acquiescence.

"Well, you girls will be in very good hands until your own mother comes, I daresay. I cannot tell you how interested I am to meet her. Mrs. Gardiner and I have been very good friends these many years, you know--our husbands had some business or other together, and Mrs. Gardiner asked him to dine one night, and he liked them both so well that we asked them the next week, and we have been the best of friends ever since! She has told me a great deal of your mother, but I have never met her. Oh--but I see that we are keeping you--we must let you get on with your business. But you really must come tomorrow night, and you must join us at the King's Theatre on Friday. They are performing some one or other of Mr. Mozart's pieces, and you must join us, for Sir John and my daughter have taken their own box, and I should be very solitary otherwise."

"How very kind! I'm sure the girls would enjoy some musical entertainment."

"And then they may sit with Augusta, you know--she has too few intimates of her own age, and I am sure they will all get on splendidly. Oh dear, I am keeping you--" laughing at herself--"goodbye, goodbye!"

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head as they climbed into the carriage.

"What do you think of Mrs. Ellison, Lizzy?" asked Mrs. Gardiner, teasingly.

"Oh! She seems a very kind-hearted woman, but I can hardly breathe under such a deluge. However do you spend an evening with her?"

Mrs. Gardiner only smiled. "And what do you think of Lady Hartwick?"

"She has hardly a word to say for herself--but then as one can hardly speak at all in her mother's presence, I think I must wait for another occasion, to determine my opinion."

CHAPTER SIX

That other occasion was soon given, as they duly attended the Ellison's dinner on the Wednesday, and had an opportunity of judging of what kind of family they were at home.

"Now, girls, I shall warn you," said Mrs. Gardiner, when they had climbed into the coach, "that we do not always go into such fine society as we shall tonight. Mr. and Mrs. Ellison are very good, hospitable people, and they make no condition for their guests, but that they be genteel, amiable, and of good information and principles. I think very much as Mrs. Ellison does, but she is a little insensible to consequence in the world sometimes, and I would not see you slighted: therefore I do not recommend you to presume upon an acquaintance afterwards, which you might form tonight. Not that I do not think you two the equal of any man or woman in the kingdom," she added with a smile, "but there are some who are too proud to think likewise. Only be cautious."

Jane and Elizabeth were somewhat surprised, but Elizabeth quickly divined her meaning. "She thinks we may meet some amiable young men here tonight," she reflected, "and though twenty thousand pounds is a good fortune, it may not be enough to make us agreeable to some families, however sensible their sons might be."

"This is caution indeed!" said she aloud. "And pray, Aunt, whom do you think we might meet? For it must be at least an earl, if you wish to frighten me."

"Oh! I met an earl once at her table, and he was very amiable, but I heard later that his sister and his mother complained of it. That is why I mention it--in case you hear some such thing spoken of, that you may know the reason of it, and that you may not expose yourself to any censure."

Elizabeth was well satisfied, and Jane was indeed so little likely to presume on anything at any time, that she felt them both to be quite safe, and went in to the dinner with a tranquil heart.

Upon walking up the stairs, they entered a very pretty room with large windows onto the garden, elegantly fitted up and, at this time of year, already lit by candles. Elizabeth was sensible at once of an excellent and unerring taste for the beautiful and the well-made, without any gaudiness or unnecessary finery, and felt her esteem for her hostess increase. Mrs. Ellison bustled up to greet them.

"How do you do, my dears! Come in, come in--come and stand by the fire--I hope you will not think us very extravagant, but I had the fire made up, though we will all be in the dining room in a few minutes; it is such a cold night, and I could not bear to think of all the ladies coming in half-chilled, and having no fire to warm them. I hope you came safely." They replied that they had. "I am glad to hear it. The roads are always safer in London than in the country, I think. They are a little less dark, and so many carriages must clear them of a little of their snow. Here is Mr. Ellison, my dears; allow me to introduce my husband."

Mr. Ellison was a small man, with a handsome face and aristocratic features, and much quieter than his wife. He greeted them civilly, and a moment later another gentleman was shown in. He was of a genteel appearance, with very dark hair, curled after the newest fashion, and striking though not handsome features.

"Ah!" cried Mr. Ellison, catching his guest's eye, "Here is Mr. Reynolds! Ladies, allow me to introduce Mr. William Reynolds, the well-known artist. Mr. Reynolds, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Bennet!" cried that gentleman, surprised out of a deep bow. "Not the Miss Bennets of Hertfordshire!"

"Indeed. It is a pleasure to see you again, sir," replied Jane warmly.

"I did not know that you were acquainted with Mr. Reynolds?" remarked Mrs. Gardiner, arching an eyebrow at the young ladies.

"You remember, Aunt, my telling you of Mr. Reynolds, who gave us all lessons in drawing some five years ago," replied Jane.

"I do indeed! I had not realized it was the same Mr. Reynolds. I imagine they are much grown since you last saw them, sir," replied Mrs. Gardiner.

"Certainly they are, madam; Miss Bennet, indeed, is only a more womanly version of her younger self, but Miss Elizabeth is so much taller that I should scarcely have recognized her. I hope your drawing has prospered as well?" He added, addressing himself to Jane.

"I am afraid I never had any talent for it, though I am sure your instruction did a great deal to improve my taste, but Lizzy draws very well," replied Jane. "Our governess says that your instruction was particularly beneficial to her."

"Mary is the great genius of the family, however," Elizabeth interjected, "And Miss Grey lays it all at your feet, so you ought to be pleased."

"Miss Mary's drawing improves, then?" he inquired eagerly.

"Very much, for she has learned from anyone who would teach her since your departure. After less than nine months in the family Miss Grey vows she can scarcely teach her any more, and is eager to yield her tuition to London masters. I do not suppose you ever teach any more?"

"I have been very fortunate in finding such generous patrons," said Mr. Reynolds, bowing towards Mr. Ellison, "that I am enabled to devote most of my time to my Art, and I teach very little anymore. In the case of your sister, however, I should be happy to make an exception. Even at so early an age, she had so remarkable a talent, that I should be happy to assist in its development. Art, Miss Bennet, is a stern mistress, and those who have devoted their lives to her service must not fail in assisting those who have the capacity to follow the same path."

"I wonder now," put in Mr. Ellison, smiling, "if I may not in fact have seen these young ladies before. Do you recollect that picture you painted during your trip to Hertfordshire some five years ago, the view from Oakham Mount?"

"I do indeed!" replied Mr. Reynolds, seeming a little conscious.

"It is in my library. There are, if I recollect correctly, several young ladies, with their backs turned, in one corner. They look very much as though they have been having a lesson, and are now practicing with their sketchbooks."

"The very same! I hope you will excuse the liberty, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," answered Mr. Reynolds, coloring a little. "You made part of such a delightful picture one day, that I could not resist including you in my sketch, and once I had done that I found I must go on as I began."

The charm of so unusual a situation must be investigated, and as there were still several missing from their party, they went at once to Mr. Ellison's library, and finding the picture, located the three dresses with light blue sashes, and the flowing curls that denoted the backs of their heads as they were bent over sketchbooks. As there was hardly much to tell one figure from the other save the shade of her curls, neither Elizabeth nor Jane could find anything to object to, and they were all several minutes, agreeing that it was a very charming picture, when Sir John Hartwick came in. He was of about the middle height and slightly stout, active and energetic, with a character so totally opposed to his wife's as to ensure domestic felicity, for he supplied nearly all the conversation, and she nearly all the agreement.

"Mrs. Ellison has sent me to fetch you--the Harringtons and the Bingleys have arrived. You had all better come along--we must not keep a lady waiting!" he added, with a good-natured laugh.

At dinner Elizabeth found herself seated, with brief introductions, between Mr. Harrington and a handsome young gentleman of the name of Bingley. Mr. Harrington was not as well-looking as Mr. Bingley, but he had a gentlemanly enough countenance to make up for it, and his manners, though sometimes a little more staid than was to Elizabeth's taste, were engaging.

"How do you like London?" he began.

"Very well. The liveliness of it seems to suit the time of year. It is often a little dull in January otherwise."

"Very true. Winter certainly seems to have been singled out by nature as the time for society. There is not much else to do indoors."

Elizabeth could not help but smile. "I do not know that I would term the usual round of employments 'not much,' but it is certainly true that it can only stand so long against the dullness of a grey sky, and a slush of snow."

"Ah! You ladies are kept very occupied with your domestic virtues," said he, smiling, "but I fear we men are given very few counterparts."

"Poor fellow! You are tried indeed, to have such leisure."

"It is no laughing matter, I assure you," he said, though he smiled.

"And yet I thought gentlemen were always so occupied!"

"Some are, but I have all the leisure of the eldest son, for my father looks after everything, and I have only to enjoy it."

"And you have no profession to fill your time?"

"I fear I am unsuited by temper for the army, have no aptitude for the law, and should not consider it a right thing to do, to take orders, without intending to discharge the duties attendant upon them during my whole life."

"Then you are in a very pitiable state, and must be consigned entirely to dinner parties."

"When they are Mrs. Ellison's dinners, that is no very pitiable state!" he said with a laugh. "But I could not say so of all the evenings I attend."

"Then you have only one recourse."

"And what is that?"

"You must marry, and devote yourself to a young family. I warrant you will find enough occupation there for the coldest January."

Mr. Harrington laughed. "Indeed, Miss Elizabeth, you have discovered my secret; I go into society only for the sake of finding out a wife, and when I have found one I daresay I shall find the evenings pass less dully at home. Just at present if I were to stay home, I must needs stay there alone, for my sister must go into society, you know."

"Ah, yes. Young ladies may have domestic virtues, but they are not permitted to exercise them in the evening--not in London, at any rate."

At that moment Mr. Harrington's attention was claimed by Miss Bingley on his other side, and Mr. Bingley turned towards Elizabeth. "Miss Bennet has been telling me that you are just come to London, Miss Elizabeth. How do you like it?"

She made him a very proper answer, and asked if he had been long in London himself.

"Only about a week. This is my first year of liberty, you see," he added, smiling.

"Oh? Have you been confined?"

He laughed good-humoredly. "Only at Cambridge! But I fear I make a poor scholar. I do not attend as I ought. I am often thinking of something else."

"Then you ought to have thought of something clever, at least. It is really a great shame to waste the time of such learned gentlemen."

"So my friend Mr. Darcy keeps telling me. But now he need tell me no longer, and I am free to enjoy pleasant society without being scolded for neglecting my books."

"I hope you do not mean to give up books altogether," laughed Elizabeth.

"By no means!" the other returned. "I hope I shall have a very good library, when I have purchased an estate. But I confess that a winter evening, or a summer morning, leave me with no desire for study. I like books in moderation, along with good food, good exercise, and good company."

"An excellent description of a philosopher's life, though upon what constitutes moderation you might disagree. But you lack one thing, if you wish to be an excellent young man in London society, rather than a Stoic."

"Then you must tell me at once," he cried, with amused eagerness, "and I shall add it to my list of desirables."

"You must also be fond of dancing, for without that no young Englishman can truly be an ornament to Society."

"You must excuse me there," cried he, "for I lumped it in along with good company, in a most untidy fashion. You are quite right, Miss Elizabeth; a gentleman must also have good dancing, if he is to be very happy, and since you desire me to be explicit, I shall require a pretty girl for a partner."

"I hope you are not too nice--some people have quite an idea of what constitutes a pretty girl."

"I see several before me now," cried he gallantly, "and if you will favor me, I will entreat Mrs. Ellison to take up the carpets after dinner, and we will have a dance. I would not take such liberties, but I am an old friend here, and I know it is often done."

Elizabeth replied in the affirmative, and Mr. Bingley soon returned to conversing with Jane.

CHAPTER SEVEN

When the ladies moved after dinner, Elizabeth found herself seated close to the Miss Bingleys. They were handsome women, with a decided air of fashion, but their manners were neither so open nor so unaffected as their brother's. The older of the two was rather dull, and occupied herself principally in playing with her rings and bracelets, but Miss Caroline was quite lively.

"And how long have you been in London, Miss Elizabeth?" inquired Miss Bingley.

"Only a few days. We are staying with my Aunt Gardiner, but we will soon be joined by my parents and sisters."

"And where are they at present?"

"In Hertfordshire. My father's estate is near a small town called Meryton."

Miss Caroline sighed. "How fond I am of the country! We have just been visiting my brother's friend in Derbyshire for Christmas. I am quite in raptures with his beautiful estate. There is nothing like Pemberley. When you marry, Louisa, you must condition for an estate with a large park. The freedom one has in the country!"

As the elder Miss Bingley made no reply to this address, Elizabeth inquired, "Are you fond of walking, then?"

"Oh! very much, when there are beautiful sights to be seen. I am not fond of the dust of a country lane, but in a well-maintained park, there must be many charming views and pleasant walks."

"Then I imagine you often confine yourself to the shrubbery, as a good house is usually so placed as to command those views from the building itself or the walks close by."

"I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, you are quite mistaken!" cried Miss Caroline contemptuously. "The best houses have sufficiently extensive grounds that they require quite a day's walk to admire all their beauties--and on such paths I am very fond of walking."

Elizabeth, a little surprised at her warmth, would not argue the point, and after a pause Jane took up the conversation again. "You must have had quite a journey, if you have come from Derbyshire."

"Indeed. We were three days upon the road, and very dull it was," said Miss Bingley, shifting restlessly.

"It was not so bad when we rode in Mr. Darcy's barouche," interposed Miss Caroline. "But in our own chaise--I am sure it will come as no surprise to you, Miss Eliza, that a tete-a-tete upon the road must grow wearisome, and as my brother will not purchase a barouche we had most inconvenient travel arrangements."

Elizabeth did not choose to discuss carriages, and so she inquired, "Is your home in London, Miss Caroline?"

"My brother has taken a house in Brook Street for the season," she replied with evident satisfaction. "He is recently come down from Cambridge, and has not made a settled home yet. He will soon be of age, and then I think it likely that he will purchase an estate. Our father intended to do so, and desired him to do so."

"Has he any idea what part of the country he would prefer?" inquired Jane politely.

"Oh! He has such an easy temper, that he will likely choose any estate that offers," cried Miss Caroline with easy derision, "but for myself I cannot forget the beauties of Derbyshire! I should be very glad indeed to see him settled there."

They were now joined by Lady Hartwick, to whom Miss Caroline instantly turned.

"Lady Hartwick, we are talking of the beauties of Derbyshire. Have you ever been into that county?"

"Yes, when I was a girl."

"Have you been to Matlock and Chatsworth? I wished to go above all things, but the weather would not allow it. We must certainly go again, Louisa. Have you seen those beautiful mountains, Lady Hartwick?"

That lady replied calmly but briefly in the affirmative.

"And have you any intention of going there again?" persisted Miss Caroline. "I am sure it would be a delightful trip. I believe your father's estate is not far away. Has Sir John been there?"

"He has."

"You certainly ought to return! You might easily go from Hartwick to Matlock in one day."

"I think not. The roads west from Hartwick are not very good," she replied calmly.

"Ah, well, perhaps it might be managed if there were a convenient place to stay the night near Matlock," said Miss Caroline with evident eagerness.

Lady Hartwick did not appear to share in her emotion, and only replied, "Perhaps so. I am not very acquainted with that part of the country."

After another pause, Miss Bingley spoke to Jane. "Will you be in Town all winter, then?"

"Yes. My father has taken a house in Sloane Street, and we will join my mother and younger three sisters there."

"Sloane Street!" Miss Caroline laughed. "But how bucolic! My dear, shall you not be afraid of the country lanes?"

"Oh! we never mind dusty lanes," replied Elizabeth, smiling. "We are quite accustomed to the country, you know, and as the only real deficiency we find there is in variety of society, Sloane Street will do very well for us."

"Well," said Miss Caroline, passing it off with a smile, and turning to Jane, "You are near the Park at any rate; I imagine we shall often meet there."

"That would give me great pleasure--though we shall not open the house for two weeks yet. We are staying with our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner at present, in Gracechurch Street."

Miss Caroline raised a single eyebrow. "It must be very pleasant, I am sure, to be so convenient to shopping. Bond Street and Piccadilly have a great deal to offer, certainly, but some of the best shops are still in Cheapside," she said, very graciously.

"It is particularly convenient for my uncle," replied Elizabeth firmly, "as his home is so close to his warehouses."

Miss Caroline raised both eyebrows, and with a little bow rose to admire some drawings of Lady Hartwick's that hung upon the wall, and attempt to engage Miss Harrington in conversation upon them; Miss Bingley, a moment later, went to speak to the Dowager Lady Hartwick. Elizabeth watched them carefully, and observed that they spoke neither to the Bennets nor Gardiners any more that evening, unless very pressed to do so.

"They are very elegant ladies," said Jane to Lady Hartwick, "Have you known them long?"

"Mr. Bingley and my brother have long been friends, and he is an old intimate of my family; but since my marriage we have seen more of the ladies," replied she calmly.

Elizabeth smiled, and gave Lady Hartwick credit for more intelligence than she had previously done. "You are recently married, I understand?"

She smiled, but only replied that she was. As Lady Hartwick seemed a little conscious, and waiting for Elizabeth to continue the conversation, the latter inquired, "Where did you go on your wedding trip?"

At this, Lady Hartwick sighed romantically. "We went to Scotland. Oh, Miss Bennet, the beauties of the moors--the heather--the craggy peaks--the exquisite fells! I have never seen anything like it. I wished we could have gone to Italy, before, but now I am very glad that we did not. And the beautiful ruins!"

"Are you fond of ruins?"

"Very much so," she replied, with animation, "I wish we had at least a folly at Hartwick. It is a very good house, but altogether modern; the old hall was torn down and rebuilt by my husband's father," she finished plaintively.

"And you are fond of Gothic beauty?" inquired Elizabeth.

Lady Hartwick smiled consciously. "I own I am. I love Udolpho--there--I have said it!" And she colored so prettily, that Elizabeth could not have despised her for it had she wished to. There followed a little discussion on the relative merits of Mrs. Radcliffe and Miss Burney, before Lady Hartwick was summoned by her mother to assist with the tea.

"Well, and what do you think of her now?" inquired Mrs. Gardiner, coming to sit by Elizabeth.

"I think she is very shy, and very fond of Gothic novels."

Mrs. Gardiner smiled. "I believe you have determined the matter aright, Lizzy."

"Is she much alone?" asked Elizabeth, watching her prepare the tea.

"Too much, I think, for so young a bride. She has money and position enough to attract acquaintance, but her shyness makes her so reserved! I do not think she has any one save her mother in whom she can confide, and no intimate friend her own age."

"I think Kitty would like her very much," reflected Elizabeth.

"There is a happy thought! I know her mother frets for her. Lady Hartwick seems to have less wish for society than her mother, but I think even by her own standards she is too much alone. She and Kitty will have much to talk of--I fancy they are fond of the same books. We must have your family and Lady Hartwick to dinner the same day, and see to it that they become acquainted."

CHAPTER EIGHT

When the gentlemen joined them, Mr. Harrington and Mr. Bingley found seats near the Miss Bennets and Lady Hartwick. After a little desultory conversation Mr. Harrington asked Miss Bennet if she played.

"I play the harp a little," she owned, "but rather poorly."

"I am sure it is delightful," said Mr. Bingley, with a gallant smile. "Indeed, provided a young lady has not a pedantic air, or an instrument or voice out of tune, it is difficult for her not to please. Do not you think so, Mr. Harrington?"

"I am always content to be entertained by the fair sex," replied he, with equal gallantry.

"Do you play, Miss Elizabeth?" continued Mr. Bingley. "I will not ask Lady Hartwick; I know she performs beautifully, when she can be got to do so."

Lady Hartwick colored, smiled, and stammered out some few syllables attempting to disclaim the praise, but Mr. Bingley, having bowed in her direction, was now looking at Elizabeth, awaiting an answer to his question.

"I do play, Mr. Bingley, and I shall own my enjoyment of it, but it is not in any great style. I have never practiced as I ought. You will doubtless hear much superior performers here."

"I hope we shall hear them all," said Mr. Bingley, "for though dreadfully ignorant of it, I am very fond of music. Do you and your sister play duets?"

"We do, when there is a harp in the house."

"Then we are in luck, for I know that Lady Hartwick had one, when she still lived here. Is it not in the music room still, Lady Hartwick?"

"I imagine so," she replied, setting down her teacup. "Mama does not play much herself anymore, but she always keeps the instruments in good condition, for her parties."

"In other words, for just such a time as this," replied Mr. George Ellison, overhearing the conversation as he passed by. "I can speak to the harp's being there. Come, ladies, let us have a little music."

Mrs. Ellison, approached by her son, was enthusiastic upon the subject.

"Oh! Do the Miss Bennets play? By all means, let us have a little music. We will certainly enjoy it. You did not tell me, Mrs. Gardiner, that they played, or I would have made sure the instruments were in tune. However, as it was seen to a few months ago, I suppose it will do. Girls," she continued, leading the way into the music room, "you must just touch the instruments, and tell me if they are in tune. I am sorry that they were not attended to more recently--I did not know you played. The Miss Bingleys play as well, of course--I ought really to have thought of it, I am quite ashamed of myself. How is the tone? Do they sound well? Oh! I am glad to hear it. Miss Bingley, Miss Caroline, I hope you will favor us with a performance. There is nothing so pleasant as to hear young ladies playing. Here is the music, and there is more in this cupboard. Will some Scotch and Irish airs do? They are very pretty, certainly--would you not prefer one of Mozart's pieces? Perhaps Haydn? I am sure they are in here somewhere--oh! I believe I lent that one to Miss Harrington to copy. She has returned it tonight--I will call the servant, and ask her where she put it, shall I?"

It took Elizabeth five minutes' reassurance to calm the anxious goodwill of Mrs. Ellison, and to make her believe that the very plentiful music upon the piano and in the cupboard nearby would be adequate to their needs, but she did believe it in the end, and returned to the drawing room to attend to her other guests, and listen to the music from a greater distance.

Jane and Elizabeth performed several songs very creditably, for Jane had a sweet voice, and Elizabeth a lively manner, that complemented each other beautifully. They were accordingly pronounced by all those who heard them to be very pleasant to listen to. They were succeeded by the Miss Bingleys, whose skill, especially Miss Caroline's, was substantial, but whose manner seemed likely to be the source of their brother's stipulations, for thought not quite pedantic it was unnecessarily elaborate, and they played preludes and concertos, where an Irish air would have been more welcome. Lady Hartwick, though with much demurring, was finally prevailed upon to play, and was succeeded by Miss Harrington, whose performance of some Scotch airs was so spirited as to raise again in Mr. Bingley the resolution of dancing. He was first to mention it--Mr. Reynolds was enthusiastic--the matter was broached to the hostess, and in a moment the carpets were being taken up, to Mrs. Ellison's very constant encouragement.

"Oh, how lovely! Certainly, a very good idea indeed. Do not you think so, Mr. Ellison? They will enjoy themselves tremendously. Mrs. Wilks, perhaps you would oblige them? You play so beautifully. Now, we must let the young people range themselves--Mr. Bingley looks very well with Miss Elizabeth--Sir John with my daughter, then--they are so recently married, you know, I think we may wink at their dancing together--There, Mr. Harrington has already engaged Miss Bennett--And my George may stand up with Miss Caroline, and Mr. Reynolds with Miss Harrington--Mr. Green with Miss Bingley--there, what a pretty set, six couple, and very handsome they look. Lady Harrington--" in a lower tone, "how handsome Lucy grows; I declare she is prettier every year. What a bloom!"

The dancing was very pleasant, and Elizabeth's partner very agreeable. They conversed together amiably for the length of two dances, and she discovered that he was fond of riding, though only moderately of hunting and shooting, and he that she was more devoted to walking than to fashion. The manner of his speech, more than the matter, confirmed in her the opinion of his being a pleasant and amiable young man, while he became sensible that Miss Elizabeth had a ready wit and pleasant conversation. When their set was over, he engaged Miss Bennet for the next two, and found that she was as handsome, her smile as beautiful, and her gentle manner as appealing on the dance floor as at dinner. Elizabeth was less well satisfied, for she danced the next two with Mr. George Ellison, and found that he was too much interested in the cut of his coat, and the height of his collar, to be an amiable companion. Others of the party were more agreeable, however, and the young people continued to dance for over an hour, but around eleven o'clock the party broke up and went away, and the Gardiners and Bennets found themselves waiting for their carriage for some five minutes after everybody else had gone.

"Well, my dears, and what do you think of our little party?" inquired Mrs. Ellison, with a smile. "They are rather elegant young people, are they not?"

Jane agreed complacently, and Mrs. Ellison laughed. "Well, you will want to know all about them, and I will save you the trouble of asking. Mr. Bingley is an old friend of our George--his father was a merchant in a large way, you know, much like Mr. Gardiner. He amassed quite a fortune and left it to his children. Mr. Bingley has some five or six thousand a year, and his sisters' fortune is twenty thousand pounds apiece."

"They are very elegant ladies," ventured Elizabeth.

"Very fashionable, certainly," agreed Mrs. Ellison frankly, "but I should think more highly of them if they valued titles and large incomes a little less. However, they are young, and such errors are common to young people. I daresay a few years' experience with the world will set them right."

"I do not recollect that I have met the Harringtons before, either," mused Mrs. Gardiner.

"No, my dear, no more have you, I was quite forgetting. Sir Henry is a baronet with a large property in Berkshire; Lady Harrington was a Miss Edmundson, from Bath, and added a substantial amount in the Funds to the family fortune, so that they are very well situated. His parents have expressed their intention of settling their smaller estate of Breedon upon him, along with a thousand a year, whenever he should choose to marry, and his sister has a very handsome fortune as well," she added confidentially.

"And I suppose you girls know all about Mr. Reynolds?" inquired Mrs. Gardiner.

Jane nodded. "I believe he has a small fortune in his own right, some ten thousand pounds, which is quite enough to keep him, and of course he has some income from his painting. I do not believe he lives very expensively."

"Certainly not," replied Mr. Ellison decisively. "It is one of the things I most admire about him. Though he is an artist, and his paintings are magnificent, he has none of that propensity for extravagance which is so unfortunate in many of our foremost painters. He lives very quietly for a man in the public eye, and is fond of the country. He often goes there to paint landscapes--as you young ladies found when he came into Hertfordshire. He has a sister as well, who is about to leave school, and he means to take a house in town for the two of them. I have encouraged him in it, for it would do him good to have a settled home here. It would be best, of course, if Miss Reynolds might form her own establishment, and I have every reason to believe she may, for though she has only a small fortune, she is a handsome enough girl, and her brother has many friends. It would do him good to have family in town, and a domestic circle to which he might belong, without the loss of time that keeping such an establishment necessitates. His own time is given almost entirely to his painting."

"He has certainly done a commendable job of it," remarked Elizabeth. "He is not so famous as his cousin, certainly, but his paintings are to be found everywhere. I only wonder that he can complete so many."

"He has invented several new systems of management that allow him to work faster," replied Mr. Ellison, betraying a little consciousness. "He has assistants to prepare his canvases, care for his brushes, and perform all those small tasks which are so necessary but detract so much from a painter's time. You must have noticed that he had several young men with him when he came into Hertfordshire."

"It was very nearly a caravan," said Elizabeth, smiling, "though he was not so prosperous then as he is now. But I am glad that he is justly rewarded for his labors, and is now comfortably situated as regards income."

"Very comfortably indeed, for his paintings cannot bring him in less than a thousand a year, and lately I believe it is nearer two or three. I will own to you, Miss Elizabeth, that promoting Mr. Reynolds' art to the notice of society is among my proudest achievements."

Elizabeth answered as gravely as she might, but the carriage being announced at this point, was saved from further temptation.

"And now," said Elizabeth playfully to her aunt, when they had all climbed into the coach, "you must complete our agreeable hostess's job, and tell us all about her and her own family."

"I will even equal her amiability, in saving you the trouble of asking for more particulars. Mr. Ellison is a man of large property in the north of England, worth at least five or six thousand a year; his wife was wealthy when he married her, and as their only extravagance has always been in entertaining a good deal, they have a handsome amount set by for both their children. I believe Lady Hartwick took some thirty thousands with her when she married Sir John, who inherited a fairly considerable property himself, and I know that Mr. and Mrs. Ellison intend to settle the interest of thirty or forty thousands on Mr. George Ellison whenever he should marry, and are certainly liberal enough in his allowance at present, even though he lives at home. In short, they are wealthy and hospitable, keep good society, and their children have good provision for marriage, and even better expectations."

"Then it is no wonder Miss Caroline wanted an invitation to Ellingham so badly."

"Lizzy!" scolded Mrs. Gardiner. "You ought not assume."

"I assure you, Aunt, I am not assuming anything; Miss Caroline's summer tour was laid out as plain as plain. She means to go from one eligible bachelor to the next."

Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed against such a notion, but even Jane could only presume that Miss Caroline must certainly have meant something else, though she could not quite think of anything that would meet the case.

CHAPTER NINE

Posted on 2014-03-20

The next few days passed uneventfully, full of social calls and shopping; the evenings were spent at home or abroad with acquaintance of the Gardiners. The Ellisons' invitation to join them at the King's Theatre, Elizabeth found, had been accepted, and so on Friday night to the theatre they went. The opera was delightful, and very little attended to, but there was great matter of interest in the audience, for they found several of their new acquaintance there. Early on in the evening they found that Mr. Bingley and his sisters were in a box very visible from their own; Jane, blushing, turned away her eyes, but the gentleman was soon in their own box. There happened to be an empty chair by Jane; of this he soon possessed himself, and sat speaking in low tones to her and to Mrs. Gardiner, who was on his other side, until the interval. The Miss Bingleys had not been entirely abandoned, however, for Elizabeth saw that a somewhat stout but gentlemanly-looking man was sitting next to Miss Bingley, and speaking to her occasionally, for which trouble she smiled upon him a great deal.

At the interval Mr. Bingley looked as though he would return to his own box, but was invited politely by Mrs. Ellison to remain.

"The truth is, though I hardly like it to get about, that we keep a box for the comfort of the ladies of the family, but Mr. Ellison insists upon sitting in the pit. He is very fond of opera, and says that he can see better from there. I laugh at him a little about it, you know, for it is so very peculiar."

"I thought it was quite usual for music-lovers to prefer the pit," said Elizabeth.

"Oh yes, my dear, but then it is so very strange to have two sets of seats! However, I am always able to find out somebody to go with us and keep me company, so the seats are not wasted."

"And so you are both satisfied, and enjoy the performance in your own way!--It is a sensible solution indeed."

"Well, my dear, I think it is, but it is a little peculiar, and so sometimes I laugh at him a little. We must laugh at our husbands a little now and then, you know, or they will get quite preposterous ideas of their own importance; you will understand all about that in a few years, I daresay."

Elizabeth could only smile and make a commonplace reply.

When the performance had ended, they exited their box, but, finding themselves squeezed along into the entrance with a great crowd, Mrs. Gardiner cried, "This will never do! Mr. Gardiner, what time is it? There, you see? We have not ordered our coaches for another half hour yet. Ten minutes will lessen the crowd sufficiently that we may pass without difficulty. Let us return to the box."

Mrs. Ellison, having noticed the pleasure Miss Bennett was taking in her current company, and fearful of her own muslin being torn, likewise expressed a disinclination for moving at that particular moment. Mr. Bingley alone felt the necessity of supposing some obligation, and owned himself concerned for his sisters' comfort.

"As to that, Mr. Bingley, you can see that they are still in their box," said Mrs. Ellison, "and if you will just wave at them, I am sure they will stay there very comfortably. You see we are nearer the door than they, so that they could not escape in any event. And if you will wait a moment, I see Mr. Ellison and my George are on their way to join us, and then we shall have gentlemen enough for the ladies. It is always more comfortable for each lady to have her own escort in such a crowd." To such logic Mr. Bingley must submit, and his sisters indeed seemed very glad to stay where they were, for Miss Bingley was talking to the gentleman next to her and even eliciting something like animation from him, while Miss Caroline was speaking to a very tall gentleman with a very young lady on his arm.

When the crowd had cleared off somewhat, they emerged into the foyer, and Mr. Bingley, with a look almost of regret, left Jane and went to fetch his sisters in company with Mr. George Ellison. The latter's attendance, however, was rendered superfluous, as Miss Bingley was attended to her carriage by the gentleman to whom she had been speaking throughout the opera. Mr. Bingley attended Miss Caroline, and they were soon gone, without the other gentlemen having been introduced to the Miss Bennets' notice.

"Tell me, Jane: what do you think of the Bingleys?" asked Elizabeth, as they were drinking their water and wine that night, and while Mr. Gardiner was for a moment out of the room.

"I think them very agreeable," said Jane, coloring prettily. "The Miss Bingleys are very elegant, and their brother very amiable."

"He could hardly help being so, when you are so very beautiful," laughed Elizabeth.

"Nay, Lizzy, I am sure his amiability derives from no attractions of mine! You saw how attentive he was to his sisters' comfort, and how pleasantly he conversed with everybody in Grosvenor Street," protested Jane.

"Come, come, I meant no aspersion on Mr. Bingley's character. I only meant that he had inducements to be more than ordinarily civil. But I am fairly rebuked; you are quite right; he was more than civil to everybody at Mrs. Ellison's dinner, even if he seemed a little more attentive to you."

Jane colored, protested, and by way of changing the subject, asked Elizabeth what she thought of the Bingleys.

"I think," said Elizabeth, "that Mr. Bingley is indeed very amiable, and rich and handsome into the bargain. As for his sisters, I think they are very fashionable, but rather proud."

"I am sure their manners are merely dignified. They would not wish to give offence."

"Well, well, Jane, have it as you like," laughed Elizabeth, thinking of Mrs. Ellison's more forthright opinion.

"I think, Lizzy," said Mrs. Gardiner after Jane had gone upstairs, "that we had better find out something about this Mr. Bingley."

Elizabeth smiled. "He is certainly showing Jane a great deal of attention."

"Still, he is very young. Love often takes the young that way, and they are off again as quick as they came. I will speak to your uncle and to Mrs. Ellison about it, and find out what I can. You and I must be cautious, and see that they are not too much together; we would not wish unpleasant rumors to get about, in case he should be of a changeable mind."

"Nor should I wish Jane's heart very much touched, under such circumstances. You are right, Aunt; I am imprudent to encourage a preference in her, though I am pleased to see her admired by a man clearly amiable. But I will hold my tongue--and do my best that they shall not be too much tete-a-tete."

Mrs. Gardiner was satisfied, and they all went to bed.

CHAPTER TEN

Sunday afternoon brought such extraordinarily mild and clement weather as must tempt all London from its doors, and after service all the Gardiners went directly to Kensington Gardens. Here Jane and Elizabeth were occupied in playing with the little ones as they walked, when they perceived Mr. Harrington and his sister coming towards them. After a proper greeting, they turned back and walked with them, and Elizabeth soon found that Mr. Harrington was to walk with Jane, and Miss Harrington was to be her lot. They had very little conversation, for to an easy and almost indolent temper Miss Harrington had added an education deficient in some particulars: she had learned that to have an handsome face, and an handsome fortune, were nearly all that was required of her. To these she must add only a suitable husband, and to acquire this she must only dress well, attend dinners, balls and plays, select some one of the young men who crowded about her, and smile upon him. None of these duties could press much upon her at present, as there were no eligible young men to hand, and therefore she need not exert herself, and scarcely opened her lips. Elizabeth, finding her companion very dull, was content to bestow her attention upon the fine weather and the children, and they proceeded thus for nearly an hour. Mrs. Gardiner then declaring herself fatigued, and the time approaching when the carriage would call for them, they returned to the entrance of the park. Before leaving them, Mr. Harrington conveyed his mother's invitation to come and drink tea with them on the Tuesday evening, which was accepted.

"Well, Lizzy," said Mrs. Gardiner to her niece when they were safely at home, "It seems your sister needs no help in acquiring suitors. Your mother will certainly be pleased."

"Surely, Aunt, his behavior was not so particular as to call him that."

"It was scarcely less particular than Mr. Bingley's."

Elizabeth owned it, but maintained that there had been a very great difference in his air. "Mr. Bingley I might suspect of inconstancy, or a lack of seriousness, but Mr. Harrington's manner did not seem to me like that of a man in love to begin with. In either case, as one of them has monopolized Jane's attentions for the duration of an opera, and the other for that of a walk, it scarcely constitutes a proposal."

"You look thoughtful, Lizzy."

"I was only thinking of something I said to Mr. Harrington at Mrs. Ellison's dinner. It was quite in jest, but I told him that as he had nothing to do with his time, he ought to marry. I hope he did not take that as particular."

"I doubt it very much," replied Mrs. Gardiner. "His circumstance is precisely the sort in which most young men do marry. Sir Henry is in good health and so is not likely to want his son's assistance about the estate for some time. Mr. Harrington's parents are quite willing to bestow upon him an adequate fortune and comfortable estate, should he marry, and he is likely to inherit more by the time the demands of an increasing family make it desirable. Could he find a handsome and genteel young woman, with a little fortune of her own, they might settle very comfortably at Breedon, and provide him with enough to fill his time. He is a steady, honest young man, ready enough to make his pleasures domestic ones, and might certainly make some woman a very good husband."

"Some woman, perhaps. But if he means to marry Jane, I had rather see a little more affection in his air."

"Lizzy, you do not know him well. How are you to know how he might display attachment?"

"You have known him longer--does he seem to you as though he is in love?"

Mrs. Gardiner reflected a moment. "I must own that he does not. But he is a quiet, steady sort of fellow, and I should not expect him to be given to flights of fancy. I shall not require Jane to marry him, Lizzy, never fear! But let us not determine his mind too hastily."

Elizabeth could not argue against such good sense, and the conversation was ended by the ladies separating to dress for dinner.

The Tuesday arrived as regularly as it ever had, and with it a letter announcing that the rest of the Bennets would travel up Monday next, and would dine with the Gardiners, if they would have them; Elizabeth and Jane might then go with their parents to Sloane Street in the evening.

Elizabeth also had a letter from Charlotte Lucas, upon which she seized eagerly. She missed her friend's company, for she found herself almost without a companion excepting those of her own family. The Miss Bingleys' artificiality displeased her. Their coldness on the Friday night had been equaled by their warmth on the Monday morning when they had met with the Miss Bennets while calling at Mrs. Ellison's house. "For I saw how it was with them," said that lady privately to Mrs. Gardiner, "and so I found an occasion of mentioning to them that all the Miss Bennets had a handsome fortune. I have very little opinion of them, in truth! but their brother seems so taken with her, that I did not like them to be plotting interference. Let the young people sort these things out themselves, is what I always say, only let there be no misunderstandings."

Mollified by Mrs. Ellison's information, the two Miss Bingleys had asked Elizabeth and Jane to call, and had even been civil to Mrs. Gardiner; and that lady had, in kindness to Jane, left the Miss Bennets to call in Brook Street on Tuesday while out in the West End, though she herself would not call where she did not believe her acquaintance truly desired. Jane and Elizabeth were then invited to spend the day in Brook Street on Wednesday. Elizabeth, in truth, did not relish the thought of giving over a whole day to the Miss Bingleys, but as it seemed likely that Jane would be enabled thereby to see Mr. Bingley for a few hours, she would not object to the arrangement, and bore it all with tolerable patience.

Tuesday evening afforded the young ladies some pleasure. Sir Henry and Lady Harrington were sensible, pleasant people, a little retiring, and fond of small parties and elegant entertainments. Mr. Harrington was a little more general in his attentions throughout the evening than he had been on the Sunday, but still it was clear that he distinguished Miss Bennet, and whenever his role as host could fairly be considered discharged, reverted to her side and her conversation. He was all attention when she was at the instrument, and earnest in pressing her to play more; and attended her to her seat afterwards with sufficient gallantry to satisfy even Elizabeth, that he was either very artful, or that he was developing some real attachment to Jane. Nor were they allowed to take their departure without some further engagement being made, for Lady Harrington was giving a musical party that very Saturday, and they were requested to attend.

"Well, girls, you have certainly begun your social intercourse well enough," said Mrs. Gardiner, as they settled themselves in the coach at the end of the evening. "I declare, Mr. Gardiner, if we are to keep going the rounds of the fashionable West End, I shall have to have new clothes, for my fine muslins will soon be quite worn out."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

On Wednesday morning the girls were set down in Brook Street at the appointed time and received with genuine pleasure. The Miss Bingleys, though by virtue of their fortunes and education they might easily have settled down in good society, had set themselves the rather more difficult task of climbing into fashionable society, and Elizabeth guessed shrewdly that they often found themselves fatigued with it. Jane's easy temper and patient sweetness must be attractive to their own jaded senses, and Lizzy could reasonably suppose that they found her own liveliness amusing.

The Miss Bennets found all the Bingleys at home, and made the acquaintance of Mrs. Wilks. That lady had an arrangement with the Bingley sisters, not at all uncommon in society, in which she shared with them all the respectability inherent in the situation of having passed thirty summers, while they shared with her the more substantial blessings of bed, board, and so many pounds at quarter-day as might satisfy very moderate personal expenses. She was a very slight person, dressed a little out of fashion, though not so much as to be an embarrassment to her employer, and Elizabeth, with quick acuity, suspected that she wore primarily the cast off clothing of Miss Bingley. She said hardly a word through the whole day, but sat by the window and busied herself with the needle-work the Miss Bingleys did not choose to trifle with.

The day was not a pleasant one to Elizabeth, though for her sister's sake she strove to be more amiable than she really felt. Jane, who always believed the best of everybody, had not even noticed the Miss Bingleys' temporary coldness towards them, and Elizabeth, who was beginning to think her sister's heart might soon be involved, would not force her to notice the slight. In speaking with Mr. Bingley Elizabeth found some pleasure, and in watching the intimacy between her sister and Mr. Bingley advance found much more, and so they got on tolerably well until a late dinner. Mr. Bingley being alone joined the ladies immediately afterwards, and had just prevailed upon Miss Bennet to sit down to the harp when a note was brought up for him. He scanned it and turned to the servant with a pleased smile.

"Ask him to walk up directly." Turning to his sisters, he said, "I have a pleasant surprise for you. Mr. Darcy is here and has sent up a note asking if we are quite at leisure. I hope you do not mind, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth--I suppose I am very wrong not to stand on ceremony, but Darcy and I are very old friends, and I am sure you will like him."

"Oh! Mr. Darcy!" cried Miss Caroline. "I am sure you will be delighted with him. He is so very much the gentleman!"

Elizabeth thought of Pemberley and Miss Caroline's designs upon it, and said very little, though she felt a great deal of curiosity as to the object of the other's intentions. A moment later, Mr. Darcy walked into the room and was introduced. He was very tall and quite handsome, though he had a haughty and forbidding countenance, and Elizabeth recognized in him the gentleman who had been speaking to Miss Caroline after the opera at the theater on Friday.

"Forgive me--I ought to apologize, I did not know that you had guests. I thought I had found you alone," he said, giving Mr. Bingley a pointed look. Elizabeth felt he must be very correct indeed if he could object so strongly to so slight an awkwardness.

"Come, Darcy, you must not be so formal! Mr. Hurst is coming in a few moments anyway," said Mr. Bingley.

"You must know you are always welcome here, Mr. Darcy," said Miss Caroline ingratiatingly. "Your presence can only bring pleasure."

Mr. Darcy bowed coolly and sat down. "Have I interrupted a performance?"

"Not at all. Miss Bennet was just beginning. May I turn your music for you?" asked Mr. Bingley, happily going to her assistance. The music was pleasant, and Jane's sweet voice the perfect accompaniment. She was listened to in a somewhat uncomfortable silence for a few moments, after which Miss Caroline spoke quietly.

"It is really surprising, Miss Eliza, that your sister should play the harp as well as she does, considering she has been studying it less than a year."

"There is a little mistake in that reckoning. She has had regular instruction only for the last six months, but she had some knowledge of the instrument before that."

"Oh, indeed! She must practice a great deal, then. Her performance is not elaborate, but it is very sweet."

"My sister is diligent in her practice, but her greatest virtue as a performer has always been her own modesty," said Elizabeth, equally pleased by the compliment to Jane and affronted by its superior manner. "Jane is so unassuming that she never attempts in public anything which is above her reach." Privately she added that, as Jane performed only for the pleasure of the audience and not for her own vanity, she was never tempted to.

"That is greatly to her credit, I am sure," cried Caroline, "to know one's own place is indeed the foundation of happiness."

"Contentment is certainly a great virtue, when it is paired with ambition," returned Elizabeth.

"Ambition!"

"Indeed; for if she were content merely to play as she does in public, without ever attempting anything better in private, I might almost call her modesty indolence; but her lack of public vanity, combined with her private diligence, must produce every year a finer performance, without exposing her to the ridicule incumbent on those who attempt to perform above their own capabilities. It is certainly in the balance of contentment and ambition that the greatest happiness is achieved."

Miss Caroline Bingley was silenced, and vowed that Elizabeth should not be comprehended in their next invitation to Jane.

Mr. Darcy watched this exchange with some little surprise, but said nothing, and after a moment took up a paper that was lying on a nearby table. When Jane had done, Elizabeth was called to the pianoforte, and a little shuffling of persons took place. Mr. Hurst, coming in at that time, proved to be the gentleman who had spent the opera on Friday in attending to Miss Bingley. He placed himself on the settee beside her; Miss Caroline moved to a seat nearer Mr. Darcy; and Mr. Bingley and Jane were seated near each other at some little distance from the others.

Elizabeth found that her position answered her desires very well, for by only selecting music that was well known to her she was enabled to watch all three couples with tolerable ease, and as hardly anybody was listening to her playing, she felt no compunction at so doing. Mr. Hurst and Miss Bingley were repeating their performance of Friday night. He spoke to her from time to time, and she was all complacence. Mr. Darcy and Miss Caroline presented a rather different picture, for he spoke even less than Mr. Hurst, and she both spoke and smiled a great deal more than Miss Bingley. It was evident from his manner that he was accustomed to her attentions and, though not welcoming them, did not find them greatly troubling. Elizabeth almost felt sorry for him, despite his forbidding expression. He had plainly come to see his friend, and Mr. Bingley was very happy to use the excuse of the music to speak only to his nearest neighbor.

A quarter of an hour, however, must make a little alteration, for Elizabeth could not play all night; but as most of the company were very happy where they were, Elizabeth and Miss Caroline merely traded their places, leaving everybody else to theirs. Elizabeth settled it with her conscience by deciding that Mr. Bingley and Jane had better have some time to talk together, and as they were in a room full of people they could not create much more rumor than would naturally arise from her having spent the day at his house. Miss Bingley's performance upon the pianoforte was as excellent even as her ambition could wish it; she played with accuracy and with spirit, but it was largely wasted upon the present company. Mr. Hurst and Miss Bingley were entirely occupied in arranging their futures; Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet by falling in love; Elizabeth in watching them, and Mr. Darcy in turning over the paper.

At length Miss Bingley, perceiving that Mr. Darcy was attending more to his paper than her music, finished a piece, callously called upon Louisa to play, and took her seat by Mr. Darcy. After several fruitless attempts to begin a conversation with the real object of her attentions had met with monosyllabic replies, she addressed herself to the lady instead: "Well, Miss Eliza, you must tell us something more about yourself. I understand your present governess came to you about a year ago. Did your governess before that not play the harp?"

"Indeed, we had no governess before that."

"No governess! I thought I heard you say you had four sisters."

"I have."

"Good heavens! You must have been almost wild," said Miss Caroline with a supercilious smile.

"I believe we were at times, but as we had plenty of fresh air, it only resulted in exercise and good constitutions," Elizabeth replied mildly.

"I meant in respect to your educations. I cannot comprehend a want of attention to a young lady's education. I am sure you would not have wished your sister to be without a governess, Mr. Darcy."

"Not until her departure for school."

"Quite so! You would have enjoyed a good school, Miss Elizabeth."

"Perhaps so, but my parents did not wish to send us away. We had visiting masters when they were available, and a tolerably comprehensive library for more serious subjects. We may have been a little wild, but we could have been a great deal more neglected."

Miss Caroline would vouchsafe no answer to this, and Mr. Darcy only lifted his brows slightly and turned over his paper.

A few moments later Miss Caroline made another essay. "And so, Miss Elizabeth, are you eager for your family's arrival? Gracechurch Street may be very convenient to your uncle Gardiner's business, but it can have no such recommendation for you."

Mr. Darcy raised his eyes from his paper and directed them rapidly at Jane and Mr. Bingley.

"Indeed not," returned Elizabeth placidly. "All its attractions for me are those of intelligent and congenial family life. I will own, however, that I am eager to see my family again."

"And then Sloane Street is so very pleasant a place!" cried Miss Bingley, elated by her success. "You are practically in the country there."

"I own I am looking forward to that. I am very accustomed to the freedom to ramble about my father's estate and the surrounding country as I choose, and though I have been in London for longer periods of time, I find we mix with society a good deal more, and that the company makes me want my moments of solitude."

Mr. Darcy, somewhat mollified by the mention of a country estate, returned to his paper.

"But why, Miss Bennet, cannot you walk in the Park with your maid?"

"Our maid is with our sisters," said Elizabeth, "assisting them to pack for the trip to Town."

"But how shocking, to have only one maid among so many ladies!" Miss Caroline hid her smile behind her fan.

"We are all tolerably capable of caring for ourselves, Miss Bingley," said Elizabeth coolly. "We are not fine enough ladies to be incapable of sticking a pin in our dresses without a maid's help, and as we are all competent enough with our needles, we have never found one maid too few. However, as we now feel the want of a second for walking in the park, I have no doubt we will soon engage one."

Miss Caroline had turned almost red in listening to this speech, but now managed to control herself so far as to say, with gracious spite, "When you have quite determined upon it, Miss Elizabeth, you must let me know, for depend upon it, I will be able to find you someone capital."

"Thank you," replied Elizabeth, and the carriage being announced a few moments after, they very soon went away.

CHAPTER TWELVE

"So, Darcy, and what do you think of the Miss Bennets?" asked Mr. Bingley eagerly, almost as soon as he had regained the drawing room after seeing his guests to their carriage.

"They seem perfectly ordinary country girls, of the sort one finds in London every season."

"Not perfectly ordinary, perhaps, Mr. Darcy," cried Miss Caroline, "for they have twenty thousand pounds apiece, the gift of a rich aunt in Brighton. Now what do you say to that?"

"That twenty thousand pounds may make a great deal of difference to a lady's prospects, but very little to her character," replied he calmly, without looking up from his paper.

Miss Caroline was silenced, but Mr. Bingley persisted. "Is not Miss Bingley one of the loveliest creatures you have ever seen?"

"She is tolerably pretty, but she smiles too much."

"She is a sweet, steady girl," said Miss Bingley in a contrary tone, "and I find her a very pleasant companion."

Mr. Darcy's countenance was immobile. "I say nothing as to her companionability, and I intend no denigration to her character. She may be amiability and virtue itself. But there is nothing striking in her person, air, conversation, or dress--and therefore I maintain that she seems a perfectly ordinary country girl, and her sister just the same, only plainer."

"Upon my word, you are very difficult to please!" cried Mr. Bingley. "I would not be so fastidious as you for the world. I thought them both very handsome, and their performances certainly show them accomplished."

"Accomplished! My dear Bingley, the ability to draw a few tunes from one instrument hardly constitutes accomplishment," said Mr. Darcy, throwing down his paper in disgust and walking away to the fireplace.

"You are perfectly right of course, but it may constitute a great deal of enjoyment nonetheless."

"Then I give you leave to enjoy it," said Mr. Darcy, smiling wryly, and then, in a lower and more earnest tone, "Only take care that you do not raise expectations."

"I should hope Mr. Darcy will not forbid us our guest," cried Miss Caroline, not hearing Mr. Darcy's last remark, and smiling with charming coquetry. "Louisa and I find Miss Bingley delightful. Miss Elizabeth, indeed, is a little pert for my taste--there is perhaps a hint of vulgarity--but I intend to make quite a pet of Miss Bennett. Shan't we, Louisa? We are not afraid of you, Mr. Darcy!"

"I hope I have never made any lady afraid of me," replied he gallantly. "Make a friend of her by all means. Her mildness will set you off to advantage." He did not add, that to impart of a little of her sweetness of temper or artlessness of manner, would have given either of them a much greater advantage.

And thus it was settled that Miss Bennet was a good, sweet girl, and was to be an intimate of the house.

Caroline Bingley was neither blind nor foolish. She could be generous in her victories, and provided Mr. Darcy cared for neither lady, was inclined to think Charles's preference of little importance. She had hardly ever seen him at the holidays without seeing him involved in some new attraction, and though he had never betrayed his preference so thoroughly before, he had never had sufficient independence to do so.

Besides all this, she thought to herself as her maid brushed her hair that night, Miss Bennet was certainly beneath him in connections, but her fortune, though not as splendid as some--Miss Darcy's, for example--was perfectly adequate. She would make Charles a good wife, to be sure, and keep his house with a suitable elegance--there could be nothing in herself to raise a blush, though her Cheapside connections would be better avoided--and then she was so mild that she would be sure to be suitably deferential to a sister-in-law more thoroughly versed in the ways of the world, of dress and of fashion.

Charles must certainly settle down and keep a country house, but Caroline was sensible of the dangers that a young lady of fashion might pose to her own position in it. The consequence of the entire family must be advanced, not only of Mrs. Bingley, whomever she might be. On the whole, thought Caroline, she preferred Miss Darcy. Her connections were excellent and would advance them very much in the world, besides bringing herself into frequent contact with Mr. Darcy. But Miss Bennet would be a safe match. She would, at any rate, keep Charles out of the clutches of some pretty fortune-hunter for a season, and as there were many seasons to be got through safely before Miss Darcy could be of age, Caroline would not interfere.

A less complacent conversation took place in the Gardiners' coach on its way home.

"Oh! how insufferable that Miss Caroline is!" cried Elizabeth. "Miss Bingley merely has very little to say for herself, and agrees to everything her sister says, but Miss Caroline is impertinence itself! Why should she wish to be so uncivil? I am sure it was her particular wish to sink our family in the opinions of her hearers."

"I did not hear her say anything uncivil," replied Jane mildly. "She was certainly very free in expressing her opinion, but I am sure you of all people, Lizzy, would not want anybody to fear expressing her opinion before you. She has grown up very differently, and does not understand our excellent parents' manner of educating their daughters."

"To be sure, Jane," replied Lizzy, laughing, "you would think that is all. But no matter. Did you have a pleasant day?"

"Very pleasant. The Miss Bingleys were very amiable, and their brother equally so."

"Take care, Jane, you are tempting me unduly. If you put Mr. Bingley's behavior down as merely amiable, I shall laugh at you."

"He certainly paid me very pleasing attentions, but he is a lively young man, and may treat many young women so, without its meaning anything particular."

Elizabeth shook her head, but would not argue. She had always heard that courtships were very quick in London, but for a young man to fall so rapidly in love was a little startling, though nobody could surprise her with too much admiration for Jane.

"And do you like him, Jane? You have had enough admiration at Longbourn, certainly, but I have never seen you treat any of your admirers so complacently as you do him."

"I certainly find Mr. Bingley very amiable. His manners are very open and pleasing."

"And he is rich and handsome into the bargain. Well, Jane, I give you leave to like him. His preference is very decided for so short an acquaintance, and so I shall play the elder sister and give you just a little warning--but I like him myself, for he is an open, honest, good-hearted fellow, and I shall not twit him for admiring just what I think he ought to admire."

Jane could not but be pleased with such warm commendation, for she knew that Elizabeth was always frank, and usually accurate, in her assessments of character, and thus authorized to think of Mr. Bingley as fondly as her conscience would allow, she went home and to bed.