Beginning, Section II

Chapter 8

Posted on January 8, 2010

The afternoon and early evening passed without further event. After the party had dined, Miss Bingley again requested that Elizabeth play for the party. Though unhappy with the idea that she had exposed one of Elizabeth's talents, keeping her from conversation with Mr. Darcy made it the best alternative in Caroline's eyes, and this time she chose to request that Miss Elizabeth sing. In an attempt to expose flaws in her voice and inadequacy in her education, she offered her an aria which she had not been able to master. 'She probably does not know above 3 words of Italian,' chortled Caroline to herself. What she did not know was that Darcy had had to flee the adjacent sitting room two days back at her attempts to sing this piece - her voice had broken many times at the high notes, her pronunciation was somewhere between poor and execrable, and she clearly had no understanding of the meaning of the piece, which was from one of his favorite operas.

"Voi che sapete?" asked Elizabeth.

"My apologies, Miss Eliza," she said snidely. "It means-"

"Yes, the full title is Voi che sapete che cosa e amor, from Le nozze di Figaro, and it means 'You ladies who know what love is.' I am familiar with the opera, and if you will give me a moment to look over the aria, I will attempt it."

This was not how Caroline had expected this to go, but she again attempted to demonstrate her superiority, "I will be happy to translate for you."

Exasperated by Miss Bingley's officious attentions while trying to prepare her song, she thought, 'Will you please be quiet!' but she managed to be somewhat less ill-tempered in her response. "Thank you," she said, with the slightest of edges to her voice, "but my Italian is sufficient for this. My father and I have been rereading La Divina Commedia recently." Seeing Miss Bingley's puzzled expression, she instantly regretted her disagreeable behavior. 'I did not actually snap at her, but it is unseemly to expose her flaws in such a manner. I am glad that Jane did not notice, but with Bingley in the room, she is unlikely to notice a fire breaking out. The least I can do is to explain.' In thinking that Miss Bingley would like to be informed, Elizabeth was in error, but it was quite natural that someone with her thirst for knowledge would assume that others were at least somewhat curious.

"Dante's 'Divine Comedy'. It is an epic poem by Dante Alighieri, written in the early 1300's. It is widely regarded as the epic poem of Italian literature, and as one of the great literary works. Naturally, the original is in Italian, and we - my father and I - have not seen a translation into English that does it justice." She saw that Miss Bingley was not at all interested, but Darcy was, so she concluded with some remarks she thought he might enjoy, "In addition, we have been reading some commentary by Voltaire. His insights are interesting, but his translations of various passages are far too 'free' to suit me. My father has joked that perhaps his Italian was so poor that his commentaries were based on a flawed French translation. It would explain a good deal, if that were true."

Darcy was very interested, and responded, "I have heard of Voltaire's commentary, but I have never been able to find a copy of it. Do you know where your father got it?"

"He found it at a small book stall on the Left Bank, when he was a young man. He had gone to present a paper at the Academie des sciences, while he was a professor at Cambridge, and-"

Miss Bingley interrupted, "Your father taught at Cambridge!? I thought that all professors had to be ordained?"

"Father held the Lucasian Chair, which is exempt from that requirement."

Darcy looked extremely impressed, and continued, "That chair, Miss Bingley was previously held by Sir Isaac Newton, and the exemption of the holder from being required to take holy orders was granted by Charles II." At her look of surprise, he said "This position is perhaps the greatest honor at Cambridge, and I would imagine that even Charles, who never cared much about our school's history, would know this." Then, turning to Elizabeth, he continued, "I knew that your father's name was familiar, but I did not make the connection. I took classes from Professor Milner, who succeeded your father. Milner is a brilliant man, but he always insisted that he was 'second best'. He said that your father left for family reasons?"

"Yes. Father was a younger brother, but his siblings died when he was 23, and he had to return home to take over Longbourn." Fortunately for her, Elizabeth did not see the look that crossed Miss Bingley's face at this moment - Darcy did, but managed to act as if he had not. Her expression made it clear that she thought nothing of the professorship or Longbourn, and that having the choice between them was contemptible. At that moment, Darcy decided that he actually despised his friend's sister; previously he had just been annoyed by her. Ironically, Darcy knew very well, from his keen observation of the farms while riding around Longbourn with Ben, that the estate was large and prosperous. While this enhanced his already great respect for the Master of that estate, somehow it did not translate into a realization the Bennets were not of the modest means that excited Caroline Bingley's contempt. Elizabeth turned back to study the sheet music with a quiet, "Excuse me," and Darcy returned to his chair, leaving Miss Bingley nothing to do but return to her own seat.

In a short time, Elizabeth began to play bits of the melody and hum to herself, and then after a few minutes of this, she turned to the room and announced, "I am ready, but please do not expect a great deal." This remark returned Caroline to spirits, and she affixed a superior smirk to her face, which curdled as soon as Elizabeth began to sing. Her voice filled the room, bringing a broad smile to Jane's face, and everyone's attention was on her - even Mr. Hurst, who listened intently with his mouth open in surprise. Darcy was transfixed, thinking that he had only heard her equal in England once, when a famous Italian soprano had played the role in London. This was absolutely not what Miss Bingley had had in mind, but she no idea what to do about it.

After the short piece, the applause was sincere and prolonged, as were the entreaties to sing and play again. Miss Elizabeth complied, saying that, "As Mozart seems so popular, I will perform some selections from Cosi fan tutte.

As she performed, Elizabeth could not help observing how firmly Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed on her. After his comment at the assembly, she hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of admiration to a man who thought himself so above her, and who found her only 'tolerable'; and yet that he should look at her so often and so intently when he was indifferent was still more strange. She supposed that she drew his notice now because of her performance - she knew that her singing and playing were very far above what was usually seen, as she had been told this consistently by the ever more exclusive and demanding masters that her mother hired for her, until finally she had asked to end the voice lessons after being yelled at repeatedly by the excitable Signori Valenti, who begged to be struck dead when she insisted that she did not want to practice for hours every day, and would never appear at La Scala.

When she looked up and caught a smile from Darcy, the idea that he saw her only as a 'trained monkey,' in her words, was quickly put aside. It was difficult to keep the color from rising to her cheeks at such scrutiny, and half of her concentration was lost in reminding herself that Mr. Darcy was not the kind of man over whom she should indulge an infatuation. But Elizabeth was too well-trained, and too familiar with her piece, for her performance to suffer from her distraction, and it is unlikely that Darcy would have noticed; he was too far involved in indulging in an infatuation of his own. After her voice tired, she turned to Beethoven, and concluded with the Appassionata Sonata.

The dawn of the next day saw the last of the clouds disappear from the sky. Following breakfast, the men removed themselves to supervise the extraction of the chaise and did not return until mid-afternoon. Entering the house, Darcy was disappointed that Elizabeth was not to be found.

"I believe they have gone walking somewhere-a-bouts," Caroline answered her brother's query, not wishing to be specific with the information that the Bennet sisters were enjoying stroll in the shrubbery.

"Well, I might see if I can find them. Care to join me Darcy?"

Darcy, who was by no means reluctant to take up his friend's suggestion, was just about to rise when Caroline answered that a refreshing walk was just what she desired.

"After the physical exertions of this morning," Darcy dissembled. "I believe I would rather wait in the drawing room."

He soon felt his decision a poor one, as Caroline immediately withdrew her plan to walk in favor of 'finishing a book'. No more than half a paragraph could have been read before the book was wholly put aside, and she turned her attention to Darcy, trying to provoke him into disliking their guest by talking of Elizabeth's country manners and impertinent ways.

"...and she spoke again today of returning home on foot!" Caroline went on, after numerous one word answers from Darcy failed to deter her. "To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by suggesting such a thing? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum. I dare say Mr. Darcy, that such an exhibition would effect your admiration of her 'fine eyes'."

"Not at all, Miss Bingley," he calmly replied. "I am sure they would be brightened by the exercise."

Such a remark had Caroline even less kindly disposed toward Elizabeth, when only a few minutes later - having left Mr. Bingley and Jane strolling together outdoors - she joined Mr. Darcy and his companion in the drawing room. Greetings were followed by a few minutes of silence. Elizabeth spoke to dispel iciness she felt in the air. "Mr. Bingley informs me that you had a successful morning, Mr. Darcy. I understand that the road should be passable tomorrow."

"If the weather holds, I am certain that will be the case, Miss Elizabeth," he answered, wishing at the same time for more rain to delay their departure. Despite Elizabeth having been at Netherfield for two days, the time had not really answered his hopes of knowing her more fully. She was there in front of him, but somehow Caroline always managed to be there, too, and generally in between himself and Elizabeth.

"Did you enjoy your morning walk, Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy asked, finally determining to have some conversation with Elizabeth, regardless of Caroline's presence.

"Very much, Mr. Darcy. There is a wonderful sense of freedom in going out of doors after days of being kept in by rain. Longbourn will be rejoicing today, because Benjamin's habitual good spirits are dampened when he is trapped in doors for too long a period."

"Yes, I can imagine that such an enthusiastic fellow would feel stifled being inside all day."

"Which is exactly why children should be taught restraint at a young age," Caroline put in immediately, seeing Benjamin's behavior as a further example of the Bennets' unsuitability. "There is little more tiresome than children who do not know their place. I am sure your sister gives you no such concern Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Darcy looked momentarily uncertain as thoughts of Ramsgate came unbidden, freezing his tongue, and he was relieved when Elizabeth, indignant at the slight to her younger brother, spoke instead. "Miss Darcy is nearly sixteen, and hardly a child, Miss Bingley," she answered, perhaps a little too sharply, "and though I feel that it is important for children to have good manners, I hardly think that an active boy desiring an outlet for his energy, within his own home and with his own family, can be in any way worthy of censure!"

"I believe that good behavior starts in the home," Caroline countered, "and cannot be expected outside the family if not practiced within." She was about to appeal for Mr. Darcy's agreement when the impertinent Elizabeth cut in once again.

"If you are implying that Benjamin is not expected to behave properly at home, you are very wrong indeed, but neither is he expected to always sit quietly. In my experience, children who are allowed an appropriate expression of their own interests, who are given choice in matters of increasing significance as they mature, find it easier to be prudent as they grow up, because they have had the practice of it."

"And I believe that minors do better to rely on the judgment of their elders. As does Miss Darcy. Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?"

"And to whose judgment are those elders to defer, Miss Bingley? Are you suggesting that we must all ask the oldest person in the Kingdom what to do?" rejoined Elizabeth.

"Do not be absurd, Miss Eliza!"

Controlling her temper, Elizabeth responded calmly, "Then could you explain which people are to exercise independent judgment, and when they are to begin? I certainly agree that children must be guided by their parents, but it appears that you feel that this is inadequate. If you have forgotten, this discussion began when you appeared to take exception to my twelve-year-old brother being saddened at having to remain inside for more than a day, and your apparent suggestion that he should sit quietly until at least the age of majority."

"Mr. Darcy, you must know that this is not what I said."

"I am sorry Miss Bingley, but this appears to be an accurate recapitulation, and I find myself as confused as Miss Elizabeth." Darcy caught Elizabeth regarding him with surprise. Her previous looks had been rather severe, and he had tentatively concluded that she cast him in the role of an overbearing and controlling older brother.

Looking rather flustered, Caroline's response was somewhat incoherent, "I just think that people should rely on their superiors for guidance..."

Darcy replied, "Do you mean children, or all people? It would be infeasible for me to consult my uncle, for instance, on every decision I must make."

"Mr. Darcy, of course I did not mean you! Your judgment is beyond reproach..."

"Unfortunately, Miss Bingley, it is not. I make mistakes enough, although I am not sure that I would make any fewer if I depended uncritically on another for all my decisions. And my father followed Miss Elizabeth's plan of allowing me to make choices, and mistakes, as a child so that I could learn to decide things for myself."

"But of course your father would know best how you should be raised."

At this, Elizabeth's voice took on a distinct edge, "The obvious inference in this case is that my father does not know what is best for his son, even though he is doing the same thing as the elder Mr. Darcy. Do you find my father to be inferior in intelligence and judgment to your own, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy replied instantly and heatedly, "Certainly not, Miss Elizabeth! I have never known anyone as intelligent as your father, and I find his judgment and character to be of the highest caliber."

Miss Bingley was nearly in tears, and excused herself and almost ran from the room. At this, Elizabeth began to bite her lower lip, and stare at the ground. Without looking up, she said, "My father once told me that a guest should be 'a jewel on the cushion of hospitality' - a somewhat florid remark for him, so I imagine he heard it elsewhere. I have certainly failed at that, and I would like to apologize to you for having to witness my misbehavior, sir."

"Miss Elizabeth, I cannot fault your behavior. I doubt that Miss Bingley had any coherent point to make, but she has been far from hospitable to you during your enforced stay, at least in my presence. Even I was offended on your father's behalf by her last remarks, but I am sure that it was not a considered insult - to be frank, I suspect that she had no more idea what she was going to say each time she opened her mouth than did we."

"I have no doubt of that, Mr. Darcy. If my father had been here, he would have done no more than laugh at her implication, and even that would have been done in a way that she would be unable to understand. I suppose that her relentless sneering at my family has finally worn me down."

"You have my sympathy Miss Elizabeth, and again I feel that you owe no one an apology...If I might return to an earlier point, I was quite interested in your comment about raising children to make their own choices. As I said, my father did that with me, but I fear that I have done too little of that with my sister. I have, I now think, focused too much on externals, concentrating almost exclusively on her education in the arts and graces..." At this his voice tailed off, as he reflected how poorly he had prepared his sister to see through the lies of the Wickhams of the world. In trying to shelter her, he had made her more vulnerable. He had planned her life for her - she would be prepared with the proper accomplishments of a young lady of her standing, and at the right time, be well settled, preferably with Bingley. What happened at Ramsgate had nearly destroyed all these dreams.

Elizabeth sat quietly, watching to play of emotions over his face. 'There is something about his sister that greatly troubles him. Since he always speaks of her with great affection and pride, it cannot be anything that she has done, so it must be something that was done to her. But what could that be?'

Finally, as his face settled, she broke the silence by commenting, "Guidance of a minor is much more than an intellectual exercise for you, is it not, sir? How long have you had the responsibility of your sister?"

"The responsibility is not solely mine, but is shared with my cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam. I was not quite of age when my father died, and he was just enough older," he answered more soberly. "She has been in our care for just over seven years."

"I am sorry Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth answered, feeling that she had been prying into private matters. "It must have been difficult to take on this responsibility, as well as all of the others, at such a young age. My father was older when he was given responsibility for a smaller estate, and he had no wards..."

"I have not always found it easy - at times I have felt inadequate to the task." Darcy replied, wondering why he did not mind admitting such a thing to Elizabeth. The only person he ever shared these thoughts with was Richard. "My sister is a very sweet, quiet girl...intelligent and thoughtful, but possibly too willing to defer to others views. Lately I have wished that she had more confidence in her own judgment."

"Then you must direct her to do so," Elizabeth answered with a cheeky smile, making Darcy laugh at the intended irony; but before she could comment further they were joined by Mr. Bingley and Jane, returned from their walk.

"Miss Bennet was sure we would find you in the library," Mr. Bingley commented.

"We might well have gone there, but we were having an interesting discussion about families," responded Darcy. At this, the two newcomers sat with them, and the discussion became more general, and lighter, and they remained until it was time to retire to dress.

As she dressed for the evening meal, Elizabeth braced herself to face Caroline Bingley, and struggled to keep Darcy from her mind. The more time she spent with him, the more contradictory he seemed. How did the man she was speaking with that afternoon fit with the withdrawn and disdainful man she often met in company? From this, her thoughts drifted to the question of what she felt about him. No matter how many times she reminded herself that she was 'not handsome enough to tempt' him, no matter how often she resolved to think no more of him, or to remind herself of instances of his disdain, she kept returning to snippets of intelligent conversation or lively debate, to his eyes so often upon her, and to his smile. Such reflection led to an unfamiliar sensation of pleasure and excitement, and sudden, strong feelings of vulnerability.

At supper Caroline was colder than ever toward her, and more awkward than usual with Mr. Darcy. The seating arrangements were as always, but this evening Elizabeth determined to have some conversation with Mr. Hurst, and was very surprised to find him intelligent and well-informed, although far more interested in food, sport, and gaming than she. Among their topics, Society gossip was tried, and Elizabeth was very amused at his verbal portraits of some of the people she had come to know quite well since Aunt Sophia had established herself in Town. He had an acerbic wit, but was not unfair or unkind in his characterizations, and joked as much at his own expense as at others. Their conversation was carried on quietly, and she noticed that he tended to speak most freely when his sister-in-law was least likely to notice.

When, following port, the men rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, Caroline - as was her practice - settled herself down next to Mr. Darcy and tried to engage his attention. Mr. Hurst, after being disappointed in his hopes for a game of cards, stretched himself out on one of the sofas and appeared to go to sleep, although Elizabeth could not help feeling that he was actually closely observing the company - he had made rather a show of drinking wine at supper, but she realized on reflection that while he had had his glass refilled frequently, the amounts added were very small, and he had drunk less than two glasses of wine. Elizabeth then had a brief exchange with Mrs. Hurst that began promisingly enough, but Louisa suddenly stiffened at a look from her sister, and began playing with her bracelets and rings, as if she recalled that she was not allowed to like the younger Miss Bennet. Shortly after this, Elizabeth moved to join the conversation between Jane and Mr. Bingley, where she was pleased to hear that he was considering holding a ball.

"I believe it would be an appropriate response to all the hospitality we have received from our new neighbors."

"Charles, are you really serious in proposing a ball at Netherfield?" interrupted Caroline, who was listening in, as her attempts to distract Darcy from the book he had picked up had proved fruitless. "I would advise you, before you begin preparations, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am very much mistaken unless there are some among us to whom a ball would be a punishment, rather than a pleasure."

"If you mean Darcy," cried her brother, "he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins - but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough I shall send round my cards."

"I should like balls infinitely better," she replied, "if they were carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the day."

"Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a ball." 'And if you find them tedious, why were you so insistent that we go to every single ball to which we were invited last Season?'

"At least private balls are much more pleasant than public ones," Caroline conceded. "Public balls, where tradespeople parade and try to put themselves above their level, are really quite appalling."

"I do not find that such behavior is reserved for public balls," Darcy commented dryly. "Pretentiousness is common among new money, but it is often seen among older families, as well."

Given her respect for her Uncle Gardiner, Elizabeth was always annoyed with unqualified criticism of the merchant classes. "Is not the fact that they have earned their wealth more reason for self-congratulation than an accident of birth?" she asked.

"Wealth is maintained through hard work and good practices, and a family history of such is a matter of pride." Darcy replied levelly. "Surely you see this in own family?"

"I do appreciate my father's efforts, but I know of more than a few propertied wastrels whose prosperity is due only to the work of their stewards, and others bleed their tenants mercilessly, although I admit that this latter group will not leave for their descendants what they were given by their ancestors."

"And have not some of the merchant classes also risen by exploitation of their workers?"

Miss Bingley piped up, "And so much of this war we now wage is to protect those commercial interests."

"I beg your pardon?" replied Miss Elizabeth, while thinking 'What on earth is she talking about?'

"Lady Montgomery, whose husband is, as you know" - this last spoken rather snidely, as if, of course, Eliza Bennet would be in no position to know any such thing - "a close friend of the Prime Minister" - pause for dramatic effect, at knowing someone close to the seat of power - "and she told me that the war on the Peninsula was trumped up to protect those with trading interests in Spain," she concluded triumphantly.

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, expecting him to tactfully set Miss Bingley straight, but he just looked grave. Elizabeth's reaction was to suppose that he disdained the merchant class so much that no calumny against them was totally unfounded. What he was actually thinking was, 'There really is no limit to the nonsense that she will believe if it comes attached to a title. Montgomery is a fool, and was probably ranting to his wife about a jump in the price of Madeira...' After a pause, Elizabeth responded, "I suspect that the strategic importance of Spain had a greater influence on our sending forces to Iberia than the difficulties resulting from the Continental Blockade. And we were at war with France for more than twelve years before the blockade was imposed. I have heard it argued that the French should have been left to their own devices after their revolution, and that the aristocracy of Europe and our own country intervened to protect their own way of life," - this brought a shocked look from Miss Bingley, and raised eyebrows from Darcy - "although I strongly disagree with this, but surely once Bonaparte made himself Emperor and threatened all of Europe, it was in all our interests to stop him?"

Miss Bingley was clearly out of her depth, and had looked to Darcy for help, but all he did was continue to look grave, and a tactful change of subject by Bingley put an end to the debate. Elizabeth remained peeved at Darcy's responses, which seemed to her to suggest a disdain anyone not of the landed gentry. 'How long does he suppose that he would be allowed to collect his rents if our industrial enterprises did not provide the means to support a navy and fund our allies?' What Darcy really thought was, 'She is even more beautiful when her eyes flash like that.'

Miss Bingley soon got up and began walking about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well, but Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, had resumed staring at his book. In desperation she turned to her enemy and said, "Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude."

Elizabeth was greatly surprised, but agreed to it in the hope of easing the tension between them. As it happened, Miss Bingley had no interest in improving their relationship - she had determined to accept Eliza Bennet's apology with as little grace as possible, when that 'insignificant chit' finally realized that she should make it. The only object of her 'civility' was to get Mr. Darcy to look up. He was as aware of the oddity of her attention to Elizabeth as was the object herself, and unconsciously closed his book. He was soon invited to join their party, but he declined, observing that he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down the room together, and either of them would conflict with his participation. "What could he mean? I am dying to know what could be his meaning," said Caroline to Miss Elizabeth. "Do you know?"

"Not precisely," she answered lightly, "but depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and the surest way of thwarting him will be to ignore the matter."

Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in any thing, and insisted on an explanation of his remark.

"I have not the smallest objection to explaining," said he, as soon as she allowed him to speak. "You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each the others confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, I should be completely in your way; and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire."

"Shocking!" cried Miss Bingley, obviously pleased, as this was the first time that Darcy had ever said anything even remotely flirtatious to her. "I never heard any thing so abominable. How can we punish him for such a speech?"

"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said Elizabeth. "We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him, laugh at him, drop a large weight from a great height upon him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done."

"But upon my honor I do not. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind! No, no - I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself."

"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried Elizabeth. "That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh."

"Miss Bingley," said he, "has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke."

"Certainly," replied Elizabeth, "there are such people, but I trust I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without."

"Perhaps that is not possible for any one. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule."

Elizabeth was forced to stifle a laugh. 'You would have much better studied land management, natural philosophy, or engineering - of course, you are not actually such a fool as to dedicate your life to avoiding ridicule, or any kind of fool at all. Still, such nonsense deserves a jab: ' "Such as vanity and pride?"

"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed," he replied, knowing full well this was her means of commenting on their earlier exchange about class. "But pride - where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation."

"Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume," said Miss Bingley. "And pray what is the result?"

"I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise," 'although how he can say such stupid things with a straight face is beyond me...'

"No," said Darcy, "I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is I believe too little yielding - certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost for ever."

"That is a failing indeed!" cried Elizabeth. "Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it; you are safe from me."

"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome."

"And your defect is a propensity to hate everybody."

"And yours," he replied with a smile, "is willfully to misunderstand them."

"Do let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share. "Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst."

Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was opened, and Elizabeth, try as she might, could not fail to return Mr. Darcy's smile. It was too hard to stay cross at him. There was a pleasure too, in finding a man who did not feel threatened or intimidated when she expressed an opinion. Some men became offended, and others responded with pompous lectures on the superiority of men's understanding, but Darcy enjoyed engaging her in lively debate. It made a refreshing change.

She seated herself, and was surprised as Darcy moved beside her.

"And what, Miss Elizabeth," he asked in a low voice as Caroline selected her music, "do you think your defect might be?"

"Surely impertinence," she whispered back.

"Not so," he replied just before Caroline began to play. "Though it might be your greatest asset."

Chapter 9

Posted on January 11, 2010

Caroline, her attention more on Darcy than on her song, audibly misplayed the opening bars of the piece as she noted Elizabeth's color rise in response to Mr. Darcy's intimately spoken comment. It took all her self-control to finish her performance at the appropriate adagio pace rather than presto, though she did abridge the number of repeats to bring the piece to a timely end, before insisting Elizabeth take her place at the instrument.

Elizabeth was relieved to get Caroline's request, and she graciously accepted. She had found sitting so close to Darcy's side unsettling in a an unfamiliar way, and though the sensation was not exactly unpleasant, she was pleased to be feel it ebb as she moved to the security of the pianoforte.

Darcy felt her loss. In truth, he had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. His eyes followed her lovely figure as she moved gracefully to the instrument, and hardly noticed Caroline as she took the seat which Elizabeth had vacated.

"From the right aspect she might be considered pretty by some," Caroline peevishly whispered, unable to hold her tongue at his slight, "though I am a little surprised at your obvious admiration. I have always believed your tastes more exacting. Pray, when am I to wish you joy?

"A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment, but men know that these three are very different things."

His tone may have been offhand, but for the first time since his youth he experienced the threat of a feminine allure and, after a few moments recollection, was not sorry for Elizabeth's removal. He began to feel the danger of paying her too much attention.

Elizabeth lay in her bed that evening, her thoughts again with Mr. Darcy, resigned to the fact that she would never get a good night's sleep at Netherfield. There were times earlier in the evening when she might have agreed that he found her attractive, but his attentions to her - or rather lack thereof - as the evening wore on, seemed to give the lie to any such statement. Still, in a way, her difficulty in understanding his feelings took second place to understanding her own. Offended by his incivility at the assembly, she had begun with a certainty of his vanity and pomposity which she had clung tenaciously through the early weeks of their acquaintance. It was an easy impression to maintain...as long as one did not speak with the man. Conversation proved him to be a far more complex creature, displaying intelligence and education, glimpses of good humor and carefully considered opinions, and - ironically - showing a disarming reticence mingled with considerable self-assurance. In less than a week (had it really only been five days since the Lucas' party?) she had come to see a different Mr. Darcy. Despite some of his opinions still showing arrogance, she could not help but like him. The question was, how far did that 'liking' go?

In a bed chamber not too far removed, Darcy was asking himself much the same question. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was drawn to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but had no answer as to how far he should let this attraction take him. When he had singled her out for his attention he had only thought to enjoy some pleasant female company, contenting himself with her smiles and liveliness. He had no notion that time spent with this girl, rather than sating, would increase his interest. Now, against his will, he found himself caught as though enchanted.

It had been a number of years since he had abandoned as naive his youthful dreams that he could marry for love. He had been attracted to women before, he had enjoyed their friendship and appreciated their beauty, but he had not felt like this. When he had planned his life, he expected to enjoy the freedom of a single man for a few years more, traveling, visiting friends, enjoying sport and entertainment, and innocent flirtations and friendships with a number of women. When the time was right he had settle down with an agreeable, pretty, well-connected and richly-dowered young lady. With his own wealth and heritage one would not think such a thing too much to ask, but now his infatuation with a pert country lass, with no more than £5,000 to her name, had suddenly complicated everything, and he did not know whether to indulge the feeling, or to work his hardest to repress it.

He was sure that he knew what his family expected of him - his Aunt Catherine had been vocal on the subject for more than a dozen years, and while he dismissed her plan that he marry his cousin, her general advice about marriage had fallen on more fertile ground. But was Pemberley really in need of an infusion of thirty or forty thousand pounds, and did the Darcy name really need the enhancement of a connection to another noble or ancient family? A connection with a respectable country family should be enough. In any case, he told himself, he need not attempt to cross bridges before he came to them. He had only known Miss Elizabeth for a short while, and there was no point in committing himself to any plan of action until he knew what would constitute his own happiness. Obviously, he told himself, to make such a decision he needed to know even more of - and to spend more time with - Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

After his reserved behavior in the latter half of the previous evening, Elizabeth was surprised to find Darcy all attentiveness at breakfast. Caroline had not yet risen, and Darcy took the opportunity of uninterrupted conversation with pleasure, particularly pleased when Elizabeth disagreed with his opinion on Fanny Burney as an author, bringing that defiant spark again to her eyes. Darcy even found himself overstating objections to Evelina, just to get a rise from his fair debating partner, and he had to laugh out loud when Elizabeth caught him out.

"You do not actually believe a word you are saying, do you?" she asked, and his laughter in reply confirmed her suspicions. "Thank goodness. I was beginning to feel I had vastly overestimated your sense. No reasonable man could ever believe an egregious fop like Lovel due respect on the basis of his family and wealth, even admitting that one could take the character itself seriously."

"At least he expressed some sound opinions on women and strength," Darcy grinned as Elizabeth almost choked on her tea.

"I assume that you refer to his 'insuperable aversion to strength, either of body or mind, in a female,'" she replied when she recovered herself, "but you will not induce me to take the bait when I know you feel otherwise."

"Even if I state concurrence with Lord Merton that 'a woman wants nothing to recommend her but beauty and good-nature; in everything else she is either impertinent or unnatural'."

"No, Mr. Darcy," she smiled, shaking her head, "for I have it from your own mouth that you think quite differently on the subject."

"From my own mouth? I do not recall that we have ever spoken on the matter."

"Not specifically, perhaps, but comments you have made in regard to your sister's education," she replied with a slightly raised eyebrow, "alongside your most exacting list of what is to be expected in an accomplished woman, do rather suggest a view quite removed your previous statement."

"It does not necessarily follow though, Miss Elizabeth," he laughed, "that I agree with the public exhibition of such learning. I may feel it only appropriate for personal edification."

"I very much doubt that, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied, boldly holding his eye. "It would be an unlikely opinion for a man who considered feminine impertinence an asset. In any event, we have spent far too much time on this novel and its rather contrived characters."

"Should we then discuss the shifting fortunes of the nations of Europe?" and Darcy, smiling.

"Very well, Mr. Darcy. That is certainly preferable to discussing minor works of fiction. How far back shall we go? To Phillip II, or earlier still?"

"My, everyone is quite up early this morning," Caroline announced as she entered the parlor, causing Elizabeth and Darcy to quickly, almost guiltily, sit back and break their eye contact.

Miss Bingley was unhappy to find her brother and Jane together at one end of the table, and Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth at the other, and Charles' reply did nothing to reassure her.

"Good morning Caroline dear," he greeted her with a warm smile. "We are trying to make the most of our guests' company before their departure. Will you not join me in attempting to convince them to stay just one more day? I am sure the roads will be much safer with another day to dry out."

"And I am sure they are perfectly passable now," Jane answered with a slight blush at the compliment of his invitation. "Elizabeth and I have very much enjoyed our stay, but we have imposed on your hospitality long enough."

Despite all inclination otherwise, at Mr. Bingley's entreaty Caroline felt obliged to generously second her brother's invitation. She was pleased to find though, that both the Bennet sisters' resolve to leave that day remained firm, and she found herself able to make a pretense of civility, as she seated herself next to Mr. Darcy. However, before she could direct the conversation to some inanity, Darcy returned to the topic they had just started. "Miss Elizabeth, your choice of Phillip II makes me wonder... Are you going to argue that military successes and failures are the primary cause of the rise and fall of nations?"

"No. I would contend that no nation can prosper, or even endure, if it cannot protect itself from external enemies, and maintain order within its borders-"

"But Miss Eliza," interrupted Caroline Bingley with more than a hint of a sneer, "did not you defend the morality of the French Revolution just last night?"

"No," replied Elizabeth calmly, "I would never do that."

"Then you believe, as I do, that the ideas of Republicanism are dangerous and wrong? You believe that rank should be respected, and people should defer to their betters?" Her inquiry almost made Darcy laugh out loud, 'She could hardly be any closer to begging the question if she were to answer for Miss Bennet. I wonder what she is going on about.'

"You ask these questions as if they are the same thing. I would agree that the ideas of Republicanism are dangerous to our way of life, but I am not prepared to say that they are inherently wrong. A version of these ideas is apparently being applied rather successfully in the former American colonies."

"Then you support these radical ideas?"

"No, I do not. But if the experience of the French teaches us anything, it is that we must earn our privileges if we expect to keep them. I am sure that there is an element of self-interest in my views, but I do believe that our way of life is superior to that of the Americans, and certainly that of the French, but only if those of us with greater advantages feel at least as much responsibility for our advantages as we do license because of them."

This, of course, was entirely baffling to Miss Bingley, who had no more idea of the real workings of her society than did her brother's dogs, but she could see that Mr. Darcy was impressed by the answer, and so she thought it prudent to change the subject. "Speaking of America, Lady Montgomery told me that her husband lamented that we had colonized where we did. We got nothing but trouble from our colonies, and Spain got a great deal of gold from theirs to the south. Given the expense of current war, that gold would be most useful now, would it not, Mr. Darcy?"

At this Darcy could not help but smile, after seeing Elizabeth fight her own merriment at the nonsense coming from their hostess. He immediately looked grave, to avoid bursting into laughter, and was unable to speak for so long that Elizabeth felt that she must say something. "That is a curious idea, Miss Bingley. In the first place, the gold would surely not have been in the government strongrooms for well over a century. And in the second, and this is appropriate to our earlier topic of the rise and fall of nations, the large influx of gold from the Southern Americas into Spain was, in all likelihood, a major cause of that nation's decline. The difficulties with our American colonies notwithstanding, I believe that we have done a much better job choosing and managing our colonial holdings that the other nations of Europe."

This was really too much. 'How dare this insignificant little girl contradict her betters?! "And can you explain how having more money is detrimental to a nation?" she sneered.

"It is a bit complicated, and rather than take up a good deal of the morning in exposition, I suggest that you read An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations by Professor Adam Smith. I recommend the fourth edition, as it is more easily obtained, and more polished than the first and second editions."

And before Miss Bingley could react to the impertinence of being lectured to by this 'country Miss,' Darcy responded with, "Yes, Miss Bingley, it is a magnificent work. And, as Miss Elizabeth has said, the details of how too much gold can damage a country are rather complicated. It will be much easier to understand after you have mastered the contents of Professor Smith's text."

She was clearly shaken by his support of Eliza, but could not help arguing with the girl, "This makes no sense! How can being wealthy be bad?"

"You are confusing 'wealth' and 'gold,' Miss Bingley," she responded. "Surely you recall the fable of King Midas? Gold has some 'intrinsic' - and I use that word reluctantly - value due to its use in making decorative items, but its use as a 'medium of exchange,' as a symbol in commercial intercourse, derives from its durability and scarcity, and that there is no known way to counterfeit or undetectably adulterate it."

Miss Bingley had no idea what she was talking about. "But...it is gold!" She was then appalled to see Darcy looking at Miss Elizabeth with the keenest of interest and respect.

"That is an excellent observation, which I have never apprehended before," he said.

Turning to him, Elizabeth continued, "Naturally it is not an ideal medium, but it forces some level of discipline on those in charge of the supply of money. If a monarch or a legislature is allowed to create money by fiat, and they indulge in that practice, then orderly commerce, and especially investment, is impossible."

"Yes, I see." He continued to look at her very intently, until she felt sufficiently uncomfortable that she recollected that she and her sister needed to make preparations for returning home. Most of Caroline's hostility dissipated quickly as Jane and Elizabeth went upstairs, and as Darcy and her brother immediately left for Charles' study, Caroline and Louisa ascended with their guests to aid in their departure. Finding Elizabeth almost packed, Caroline went with Jane to her room to assist her.

"Thank you again for your hospitality over these past days, Caroline," Jane smiled at the woman she now considered her friend.

"You have been a very welcome addition to the household," Caroline answered only half insincerely. Though she had have preferred that Jane had spent less time with her brother, the elder Miss Bennet was not her particular concern.

Louisa joined the two as Jane packed up her few belongings. As the three of them talked of inconsequential matters, an air of ease and intimacy developed. Caroline, recalling Mrs. Bennet's nagging familiarity, felt comfortable making some more personal enquiries of her guest. "Jane dear, I believe we were interrupted when speaking of your mother the other day. Did you say she was from London?"

Jane could not recall the earlier conversation, but suspicion was not in her nature, and she accepted Caroline's question at face value. "No, my mother was a local girl..." Here Jane unintentionally misled her friends. Her mother had lived in Meryton prior to her marriage to Thomas Bennet, but only for three years. She had moved to Meryton with her sister after Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Walter Philips had sold their interest in their chambers shortly after her father's elevation to the bench. By this time the eldest Gardiner daughter and Mr. Philips had been married for a year, and they had moved to Meryton so that the now comfortably-off Philips could have a modest estate and start a quiet country law practice to keep himself occupied. And when they moved, the remaining Miss Gardiner moved to live with her sister.

Not more than an hour later, the Netherfield party bid farewell to their visitors. Caroline watched even Darcy's attentions to Elizabeth with an equanimity which, incidentally, matched her supercilious smile.

"Pretentious upstarts," she whispered to Louisa as they re-entered the house, but loud enough for Darcy to also hear. "No doubt it was learned from their mother. The gall of that woman, putting herself forward with all the airs and graces of a well bred gentlewoman, happily accepting precedence when she in fact has no family worth speaking of."

"Caroline, do not forget that the girls' father is a gentleman."

"He may be, Louisa but what was he thinking to marry so far below himself? It makes me boil to think of Mrs. Bennet treating everyone with her condescending graciousness, when she has no reason at all to think so well of herself. When next we meet she will only receive the attention she deserves from me."

"My dear, it would not do to be rude to her," Mrs. Hurst replied softly, but Caroline ignored her, smiling because she knew she had Mr. Darcy's attention, and she happily included him in the conversation as they entered the parlor. "Mr. Darcy, did you know of Mrs. Bennet's family connections?"

Given the look on his face, the question was completely unnecessary.

"I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl," Caroline said deliberately as her brother entered the room after having waited to see the girls' carriage disappear in the distance, "and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it. Their uncle is an attorney in Meryton; he was previously their maternal grandfather's junior partner. Mrs. Bennet is the daughter of an insignificant country solicitor," she concluded, with a sniff.

"And they have another uncle, who lives in Cheapside," she continued with a sneer, which Louisa, a little reluctantly, agreed to. In this they were quite wrong. It is true that Jane had mentioned that the Gardiners lived just off Gracechurch Street, but she meant it in the past tense, and her description of their old house had been motivated by her nostalgia for its charm and grace. The home was on a square just off the busy, commercial street, but it seemed a world away. The large house and its very spacious and beautiful garden occupied the entirety of its high-walled square, and were very quiet. The home had been very convenient for Edward Gardiner when his businesses were still primarily located in or near London, and it had been perfect for a family with small children. A desire to be closer to the Carlisle family, and to have easy access to large parks, had caused the Gardiners to look for a house in Mayfair. They had failed to find what they wanted, but they had been able to acquire enough property in Grosvenor Square to build their own, very large, new house, and had moved in at the end of the previous summer. Darcy had spent so little time in town since the previous August that he was only vaguely aware that the house directly across the square from his had been finished and occupied. His sister, though, was very aware of it, and often watched the children playing in the square or going to and from the park.

"That is capital," concluded Caroline, laughing heartily.

"If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside," exclaimed Bingley, "it would not make them one jot less agreeable."

"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world," Darcy replied thoughtfully.

To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his younger sister gave it her hearty assent, and indulged herself for some time at the expense of her dear friend's vulgar relations, leaving Bingley to wonder why it had to be such an issue. Obviously Sarah Landsdowne had not thought the relatives which Mr. Bennet acquired from his first marriage any insurmountable barrier to her becoming the second Mrs. Bennet, and her uncle was a duke, her brother an earl, and her sister was a Marchioness...at least that is what his neighbors had told him when he had first moved to Netherfield. With a shake of his head he left the room; he had heard quite enough. What neither he, nor his neighbors, knew was that the Bennet girls also had very superior connections through both their father and the first Mrs. Bennet - while not the equal of the second Mrs. Bennet's family in rank; they were certainly equal in fortune, and vastly superior in both to the Bingley family.

Hurst hid his reaction from all present: 'Oh, ho! Little Miss Two-Face has gotten the stick by the wrong end this time, begad! It does my heart good to see Louisa standing up to her...Poor Darcy, he is not a bad fellow, but he could not be stiffer if he had sat on a poker, and now he is going to get all pompous again toward Miss Elizabeth, just when she was thawing toward him. But if I tell him about Mrs. Bennet, Caroline will figure it out, and then she will relentlessly pursue the Bennets, and I like them too well for that. Besides, Louisa's got to see what a harridan and a fool her sister really is.'

Dinner that day at the Bennet household was lively, as the family was glad to see the two older girls returned. Ben regaled them with stories of the muddy rides he had had on Perseus immediately the rains had stopped.

"I would have called to visit you," he finished, "but given there was barely an inch of me not covered with muck, I thought the better of it."

"A wise choice," Sarah smiled at her son. "Uninvited visitors are not always accepted with open arms, whether muddied or not."

"I was most tempted to visit for that very reason," Benjamin grinned. "I would have loved to see the look on Miss Bingley's face."

"As we are speaking of uninvited guests," Mr. Bennet said dryly as his family's responses to Benjamin's comment subsided, "I received some most unusual correspondence this morning. It appears, my dear, that we have been forgiven by one Mr. Collins for the iniquitous sin of having begat Thomas and Benjamin. Though our actions have cut him off from his rightful inheritance of Longbourn, since he received ordination at Easter he feels it his duty - now let me find the passage - to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures of good-will are highly commendable.

"Surely you are teasing sir," laughed Sarah. "He cannot have written such a thing."

"I assure you he did, dear," he smiled, handing her the missive.

"Oh my," Sarah shook her head in disbelief as she ran her eyes over the contents of the letter. "I know of Lady Catherine. She no doubt enjoys the deference of such a man as this Mr. Collins. Oh, I do like this part about his kind intention of christening, marrying, and burying his parishioners whenever required, and there is more! If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Thursday, 4 November, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se'nnight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day - that is only three days away!"

"Yes my dear, it seems the letter was misdirected en route. As time seemed pressing, I took the liberty of sending him an express this morning, suggesting that the visit be deferred to the end of the first week of December."

"But by then the girls and I will be gone to Hatfield."

"Precisely, my love," Mr. Bennet smiled. "The three references to his fair cousins make me uneasy. The girls have had a surplus of unwanted attention recently. I will not have him here at the same time as my daughters."

"Little wonder we love you, Papa," Elizabeth laughed as she rose and moved around the table to kiss him on the cheek. "It is good to be home."

Elizabeth curled up in her own bed that night, and slept in complete peace. It was good to be home; and a relief to have some distance between herself and the undeniable charms of Mr. Darcy. While she remained unable to interpret the motives for his friendliness, she felt her heart safer away from the man.

Darcy, on the other hand, spent a very restless night turning things over and over in his head, trying to tell himself he was fortunate to learn of Elizabeth's connections before matters had progressed to a point of no return. The news had made a rational choice clear, but his desires refused to cooperate. He might have been able to justify associating his family with the daughter of a respectable, minor country gentleman, but he could not do so knowing that her near relations included those whose condition in life was so decidedly beneath his own, although a little voice persisted in asking 'Could you not?' Even while he told himself of the impossibility of any attachment, his treacherous thoughts returned to her face, her laugh, the lively conversations they had held, and to the fire which he had seen several times in her eyes. "Damn and blast," he groaned audibly. This was too much. Perversely, the knowledge that he could not have her served to increase his desire, and all the ways in which she appeared to most suit him occupied his thoughts, no matter how he tried to push them aside.

Chapter 10

The drying out of the road meant a return for Jane and Elizabeth, but it also meant a resumption of routine. Although the routine would last less than a month - the Bennet women would leave at the end of November for their Christmas visit to the Salisbury country seat of Hatfield House - Julia succumbed to melancholy, no doubt feeling that nothing would ever change for her. Her low spirits were handled with gentle sympathy from Sarah, Kitty, and Jane, and with quiet concern from the rest of the family.

Despite Julia's depressed spirits, the next few days passed pleasantly at home. Apart from Mr. Bingley twice calling by on some pretext or other, and the regular visits from Charlotte and Maria, life was entirely uneventful. Elizabeth told herself that she had suffered no disappointment when Mr. Bingley visited alone, but perhaps it was more because of her own feelings, and not so much to distract Julia from her disappointment, that she suggested that all the sisters stroll into Meryton for the afternoon.

The four enjoyed walking to the village and wandering through some shops, picking up some bits and pieces while chatting to neighbors and acquaintances. It was just as they exited a milliner's that Kitty, having fallen behind while looking at a very pretty bonnet, walked straight into an unknown young officer of most gentleman-like appearance. After she had steadied herself, Kitty stuttered her apology, embarrassed by her inattention and the contact, and not quite sure that she should even be speaking with a stranger. She felt easier though, on realizing he was with another officer of their acquaintance, a Lieutenant Denny. Lt. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Lt. Wickham, who had accepted a commission in their corps two weeks earlier.

His graciousness toward Kitty had already been noted by the sisters, and his appearance was greatly in his favor; he had all the best part of beauty - a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation - a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. It seems he had been on his way to call in at Longbourn to personally deliver invitations for his ball. This hardly registered with Elizabeth as she looked up at Mr. Darcy, wondering if she had imagined all his former friendliness. Though he had told himself that he would show Elizabeth no more than common courtesy - and his idea of that was a cold rudeness to most people - Darcy's eyes moved to her of their own accord, and he nodded a greeting and appeared about to speak. Elizabeth was standing so as to be able to see both their faces at the instant that they noticed one another, and she was astonished at the effect. Wickham turned pale white, Darcy dark red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat - a salutation which Mr. Darcy barely deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? One could not know, but it was impossible not to wonder.

In another minute Mr. Bingley, who had not noticed what had passed between his friend and Wickham, took his leave and they rode off. The Bennet girls soon said their goodbyes to the young Militia officers and, at Jane's urging, went to their Aunt Margaret Philips' house. Their aunt was herself childless, and as a result she took an eager interest in all the Bennet children, showering them with uncritical affection and praise when they were younger, and worrying incessantly about the marriage prospects of the girls when they grew up. Given her elder nieces' recent stay at Netherfield, the visit was particularly welcome, and their aunt eagerly questioned them, expressing her opinion that they should have made more of such fortunate circumstances. She chattered on non-stop, interspersing advice on the girls' love lives with local gossip and talk of the most eligible officers, some of whom were to dine with the Philips' the next day. Elizabeth, feeling that an invitation was about to be extended, unsuccessfully tried to change the subject. The invitation, however, was not to be avoided, and Aunt Margaret, perhaps sensing Elizabeth's reluctance, protested that they would have a nice, comfortable, noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterward - and their aunt did keep the best cook in Meryton. Kitty looked eager, and Jane graciously accepted her hospitality.

"Did you have to accept?" Elizabeth sighed as soon as they had left their Aunt's place behind.

"Lizzy!" "Elizabeth!" "Not again," her sisters seemed speak at once.

"You know exactly what Mama would say," Julia continued, throwing a censorious look in Lizzy's direction. "Aunt Margaret is our close relation, and it would be very poor form to avoid her company."

"But I do not wish to avoid her... well, at least not exactly. I am fond of her, you know. I feel the same way about Lady Tremaine," - a very gossipy cousin of Lord Salisbury - "and yet I have no such feelings about Mrs. Ashton," - the flighty, good-natured wife of a young warehouse owner friend of the Gardiners. "It is just that Aunt's intense curiosity about us can be so tiring, sometimes..."

Elizabeth said no more, as she knew this was a feeling that she did not entirely understand. It was not especially complicated - Mrs. Philips loved Elizabeth, but shared with her late sister a very traditional and rigid view of a 'woman's place,' and worried that Elizabeth's interests would damage her marriage prospects, and those of her sisters. That her aunt disapproved of her behavior in the same clucking manner as her mother bothered her deeply, but since she could not remember her mother, she was unaware of why she was so affected.

But it would be a mistake to think of Mrs. Philips as negligible. She was nosy, and on occasion vulgar, but she was no fool. Mr. Bennet and her husband had long felt that it was necessary to downplay the Gardiner connection to protect the Bennet girls, and this had become especially important after the sale of the brass foundries, etc., (shortly before Jane's twelfth birthday). Their aunt had readily seen the wisdom of this, and when neighbors asked, because of her maiden name, about a connection between her and the increasingly well-known, wealthy industrialist, she prevaricated quite effectively. Her love of gossip and her occasional mild lapses of decorum caused people to suppose that she was incapable of secrets, which made it quite easy for her to mislead them when it was in her nieces' interest. Elizabeth was not entirely unaware of her aunt's efforts on behalf of her and her sisters, and knowing that, for her nieces' sakes, Mrs. Philips gladly forewent gossiping about her brother - a topic which would have held her circle spellbound for many an afternoon - only made Elizabeth feel that much guiltier about being uncomfortable in her company.

In any event, Elizabeth reconciled herself with the idea that the party might be informative. She recalled the look which had passed between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham - if the story of their connection was known by anyone in the village, by tomorrow night word of it would reach her Aunt's drawing room.

Darcy had not had a good night's sleep since 'finding out' about Elizabeth, but tonight rest was even more elusive. The instant he had laid eyes on her that morning, he had known his plan to forget about her had come to naught. He had been so distracted by her presence that he had almost failed to recognize the villain standing at her side. The perverseness of it all - to come across Elizabeth exchanging pleasantries with George Wickham! He could easily imagine how much his childhood playmate would feel about the face, figure, and laughing eyes of Elizabeth Bennet, and wondered how to warn Elizabeth of Wickham's character without appearing to take too close an interest in her concerns. He chided himself as he belatedly thought of Georgiana. He had hoped to bring her to Netherfield for a few weeks, after they returned from their Christmas trip to Derbyshire, but now it was impossible. As much as he liked being with Bingley, only Darcy's distaste for London in late fall and early winter had made him willing to contemplate spending a good deal of October through February in Miss Bingley's company. But he could not leave Georgiana in Town alone after Christmas, so it seemed that Grosvenor Square was where he had be spending time with his sister. Perhaps Wickham's appearance was a positive thing after all. It would mean that he had have to leave Hertfordshire for a time, and that might be just what he needed to stop thinking about Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Elizabeth was annoyed. Once again Mr. Darcy had not joined Mr. Bingley's visit to Longbourn. She did not anticipate a great deal of enjoyment this evening, either, even though the officers of the Huntingdonshire Militia were generally pleasant and gentleman-like - her acquaintance with Mr. Darcy had apparently put an end to the modest pleasure she used to feel in the company of such young men.

That night, though, when the officers joined the party, she remembered her curiosity about Mr. Wickham, whose entrance drew almost every female eye with his superior countenance, air, and walk. Elizabeth was the happy woman on whom he bestowed his company, and the agreeable manner in which he conversed, though it was only on its being a wet night, and on the probability of a rainy season, made her feel, at least for a few moments, that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic could be rendered interesting by the skill of this speaker.

When the card tables were placed, Wickham joined a table between Elizabeth and Kitty. The youngest Miss Bennet, still embarrassed at bumping into him the previous day, attended to the game assiduously, leaving Wickham - except for the modest requirements of the game - at leisure to talk to Elizabeth. She was very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told, she dared not even mention the gentleman. Her curiosity was unexpectedly relieved, when her companion began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked hesitantly how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.

"A month or two," said Elizabeth, adding, "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand."

"Yes," replied Wickham, "his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself - for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy."

Elizabeth could not but look surprised.

"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing yesterday, as you must have, the very cold manner of our meeting. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"

"A little," Elizabeth answered and, smarting a little at his neglect over the past few days, added, "He rather keeps to himself, no doubt believing himself above our neighborhood."

"I should not give my opinion," said Wickham, "as to his being agreeable or otherwise. I have known him too long and too well to be a fair judge - it is impossible for me to be impartial. But I believe that you are entirely correct."

"I cannot pretend to be sorry that you have found him out," continued Wickham, after a short pause for card-play. "The world is generally blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen." Elizabeth fought the impulse to correct his misunderstanding, believing that if she remained quiet on the subject she would learn more. "I wonder whether he is likely to be in this country much longer."

"I do not know - I heard nothing of his going away when I was at Netherfield. Are your plans in favor of the Huntingdonshire Militia likely to be affected by his being in the neighborhood?"

"Oh no! It is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaim to all the world; a sense of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections. His behavior to me has been scandalous; but I believe I could forgive him any and every thing, in memory of his father."

Elizabeth was engrossed by the subject, and listened intently; but her thoughts were, 'If his father's memory is so dear, then how can you abuse the son to a complete stranger?'

Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics - Meryton, the neighborhood, the society - appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter especially, with unmistakable gallantry.

"It was the prospect of constant society, and good society," he added, "which was my chief inducement to enter this militia. I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me farther by his account of their present quarters, and the very great attentions and excellent acquaintance Meryton provided them." - 'Your whinging does you great credit, sir, as you are clearly a most sensitive soul.' - "Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society. The society of a beautiful woman such as yourself is a great inducement to staying in Meryton," he added in a conspiratorial tone. 'Does this ever work to your advantage? Even if I was sure that Mr. Darcy was the basest blackguard, comments such as these from one such as you would make me think better of him!' The mawkishness and impropriety of his remark made Elizabeth feel slightly ill, and confirmed her belief that his character was deficient. "A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession - I was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now."

"Indeed!" Elizabeth answered, insulted that he could move so quickly from flirtation to 'his calling'.

"Yes - the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "how could that be? How could his will be disregarded, and why did not you seek legal redress?" 'Why, indeed?'

"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from law. A man of honor could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it - or to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence, in short anything or nothing." 'I would need no excuse other than your fine self to deny you a living. Mr. Darcy is not such a fool as to not see enough of your character to know better than to give you a pulpit, but I cannot help wondering if there is some perfidy behind your charm.' "Certain it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself" - 'Naturally, you must be the victim. Are you really such a fool, or is it that you think that I am?' - "of having really done any thing to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me."

"This is quite shocking! If this is true he deserves to be publicly disgraced," Elizabeth answered, unable to completely hide her true feelings in the formulation of her response. There was everything too easy in Mr. Wickham's manner, which suggested a history of success at gulling people. She would have to speak to her father about this man.

"Some time or other he will be - but it shall not be by me. Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him."

Elizabeth longed to laugh out loud, but instead played the credulous naïf. "But what, would have been his motive? What do you say can have induced him to behave so cruelly?"

"A thorough, determined dislike of me - a dislike which I cannot but attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon attachment to me, irritated him, I believe, very early in life. He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood - the sort of preference which was often given me."

It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. Even if she had not known Mr. Darcy, the gross inconsistencies in the description would have precluded it having any credibility. At the beginning of their conversation Mr. Wickham had described his enemy as being unfeelingly arrogant and supercilious, and a few minutes later, he was so beset by insecurity that he resented his father's 'favorite'. She thought, 'This nonsense is becoming unbearable,' but she replied, "I had not supposed Mr. Darcy so bad as this. I did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this. To treat in such a manner, the godson, the friend, the favorite of his father!"

Mr. Wickham was so sure of his charm that he did not listen to the literal meaning her words, and he did not falter in his appeal for sympathy."We were born in the same parish, within the same park, the greatest part of our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. My father began life in the profession to which your uncle, Mr. Philips, appears to do so much credit - but he gave up everything to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself to be under the greatest obligations to my father's active superintendence, and when immediately before my father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him, as of affection to myself."

"How strange!" replied Elizabeth - it was a struggle not to be derisive, but she knew that she must avoid even a hint of skepticism, to avoid putting him on guard. "I wonder that the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! If from no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest - for dishonesty there has been."

"It is wonderful," replied Wickham, "for almost all his actions may be traced to pride, and pride has often been his best friend. It has connected him nearer with virtue than any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent; and in his behavior to me, there were stronger impulses even than pride."

"I have heard much that is good of him," Elizabeth answered, hoping to bring this farce to a close without exciting suspicion.

"Yes. His pride has often led him to be liberal and generous - to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride, for he is very proud of what his father was, have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also brotherly pride, which with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers."

"So I have heard," replied Elizabeth, having so often listened whilst he spoke affectionately of Georgiana. She wondered how Mr. Wickham's version might differ here. "What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy?"

He shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother - very, very proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her education."

Elizabeth tried again to end the discussion, saying, "I am astonished at Mr. Darcy's intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley, who seems good humor itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? Do you know Mr. Bingley?"

"Not at all." Wickham replied, a little too sure of his own ability to doubt that Elizabeth had accepted his every word.

"He is a sweet tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Mr. Darcy is."

"Probably not - but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a pleasant companion if he thinks it worth his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His pride never deserts him; but with the rich, he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honorable, and perhaps agreeable, allowing something for fortune and figure, and he is much sought after by the ladies, despite his understanding with his cousin Anne, the only daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The uniting of their estates will make them very wealthy indeed!"

At this, Elizabeth felt something. Despite all of the nonsense Wickham had spouted that evening, she did wonder if there might be some truth in this one remark.

Chapter 11