Beginning, Section II, Next Section

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Posted on 2014-03-26

On Thursday in the forenoon they received an unexpected visitor, for Mrs. Ellison's card was brought up quite early, before the usual hour for visitors. She entered in a flutter of spirits and began speaking directly.

"Oh! My dear Mrs. Gardiner! I am come in such a state--be assured, we are all well, it is nothing of that sort--only I have a favor to ask of you, and it is so very singular that I am quite ashamed!"

Mrs. Gardiner entreated her that she would sit down, and tell her errand.

"Yesterday evening we had such a surprise! For just as we were all sitting down to dinner, there was a ring at the bell, and who do you think it was but Mr. Reynolds, and his sister with him! He looked quite distressed, and she hardly less so. He apologized a great deal for interrupting us, but we soon heard his business: he had come to enquire of Mr. Ellison whether he knew of any good lodgings which might be available immediately, where a young lady might be respectably kept!

"We were all astonishment, but we soon had the whole tale out of him. He had taken his sister from school that very morning, and upon arriving at the rooms he had taken for them, had been informed in a very peremptory fashion, that the rooms were no longer to let! He could get no information from the housekeeper, and only found out from the porter, that another gentleman arriving the previous night, and offering twice the usual rate, had been presented with the rooms at once. He was therefore obliged to go away again, with his sister and all her luggage, and they had been wandering about Town, seeking a suitable situation, ever since then. Her own rooms at the school had been turned over to another girl; at his own lodgings it was impossible to keep her, for he has slept up until now in a small room connected to his workshop, which could hardly answer for her safety or comfort. Family they have almost none, and none at all in Town. Dinner-time having arrived, they were grown nearly desperate, and had come to us at last in hopes of assistance.

"Oh! Mrs. Gardiner, I wish you could have seen her poor, woe-begone face! If we could not give them the name of any place, he said, he would take his sister to an hotel, but he was very reluctant to do so, and I could not blame him, so cheerless and dirty as they often are. Of course I spoke in an instant, and said that she must come and stay with us for a fortnight, while he found them new lodgings. She was so prettily grateful, and his gratitude was expressed very handsomely as well. And now she is staying with us--but I had quite forgot, in all the excitement, that we were to dine with you tonight, and so now I have come to beg another invitation, and on the very day of your dinner too! What you must think!"

Elizabeth could not help laughing at so slight a request, after so dramatic a story, and so went to the window, where she censured herself most sternly and ineffectively, for laughing at the lady's manner, when she ought to admire her generosity.

Mrs. Gardiner, more accustomed to her friend's generous temper, still could not help but smile, but she assured her with great determination, three or four times, that it would be hardly any trouble, that she would be delighted to meet Miss Reynolds, and that she thought it a perfectly reasonable thing to ask under circumstances so unusual and interesting. She insisted even on an additional invitation being carried away for the benefit of Mr. Reynolds, who would doubtless wish to join his sister. This last pleased the kindness of Mrs. Ellison much more than the invitation for Miss Reynolds, which she had come fairly certain of obtaining. Indeed, all her fear had been not that her request would be denied, for she knew her friend's kindness, but that she would put Mrs. Gardiner to too much trouble, and the additional invitation seemed to show definitely otherwise, at which she was greatly relieved.

When Mrs. Ellison had gone, Mrs. Gardiner at once summoned the cook. The marketing luckily had not yet been completed, and so there was no difficulty worthy of the name in accommodating two more at the night's dinner. That done, the ladies fell into conversation on the subject of Miss Reynolds. Though all had been aware of her existence, none had met her, and so interesting a person as the sister of an old acquaintance was rendered far more interesting by her peculiar circumstances, and the fact that almost nothing whatever was known of her, beyond her small fortune. Under such circumstances, though nothing could be added to the ladies' store of knowledge, still much conjecture must pass as to Miss Reynolds' face, figure and manners, and the peculiar circumstances in which she found herself, and thus beguile away their early hours.

The evening soon brought definite information to supplant the morning's speculation, for Miss Reynolds arrived promptly in company with the Ellisons. She was a pretty girl of eighteen, short and plump but with a blooming complexion. She had an air of assurance unusual to her age, and entirely unsuited to her fortune, rank, or attainments of intellect. When they were seated at dinner she began at once to talk of her noble acquaintance. Her voice was not loud, but she spoke in such an authoritative tone, and with such a conviction of being generally interesting, as to require her neighbors either to absolutely ignore her, or to give her the chief of their attentions, and thus drew off all the notice not only of her two next neighbors, but of Mr. George Ellison, who was seated opposite her, and of Miss Caroline Bingley, his neighbor. Miss Caroline, who had attended the dinner from the innocent conviction that there would be an eligible gentleman present, and had rejoiced to find herself seated near him, had now to endure all the mortification of finding the greater part of his attention monopolized, though rather unwillingly, by another, and that other not even the daughter of a gentleman! Her situation was pitiable indeed.

Elizabeth, who had promised herself no pleasures save that of watching Mr. Bingley and Jane, and whose wishes in that regard had been fully answered by their being seated at the opposite end of the table, was now left to watch her neighbors. She was amused by Miss Caroline's situation, and by that lady's various attempts to ignore Miss Reynolds and engage Mr. George in conversation, or to surpass Miss Reynolds by relating anecdotes of her own titled acquaintance.

From such entertaining observations, Elizabeth's own attention was called by Mr. Reynolds, her other neighbor. He was certainly very amiable, and she would have found the conversation entirely pleasant had there not been a certain something in his look and in his manner that seemed to speak a particularity which she could not like. He began with a subject most likely to engross her, and for a while they talked of Hertfordshire; of favorite walks and mutual acquaintance. It was then Elizabeth's pleasant duty to talk of absent friends, and to give him news as to their present situations. When they had finished talking of everybody else, they came at last to her own family.

"I am told," said he, "that you and your sisters have come into an inheritance, and very glad I am for you; your style of living must have changed a great deal since I was there."

"No indeed, it has scarcely changed at all."

"How can that be? Perhaps I was misinformed as to the inheritance," said he with an awkward smile.

"I do not know what you have been told, and therefore I cannot answer it. I will say that there is an inheritance; however, my father's delicacy of mind is such that he regards it entirely as his daughters' marriage portions, and will spend no part of it on what is commonly called 'style of living,' but only to advance his daughters' education, or to answer their particular needs."

"That is well thought of indeed!" cried he. "It is not one father in ten who would do so."

"I believe I have one father in a thousand," replied she, smiling, "for he has paid me such constant attentions, and been so instrumental to my own education, that I shall always owe him great respect and affection, even were they not otherwise called from me."

"And how can a father's attention be so necessary to the education of a daughter?" inquired he, smiling in turn.

"Necessary! Well, I suppose it was not strictly necessary. I might have learned my French fables, to play a little upon the pianoforte, to keep the accounts and manage a household, without his assistance. But it was he who encouraged me to more serious reading, and by conversation spurred me to more serious thought. In truth, nearly all seriousness of intellect or sharpness of wit that I may ever possess is owing to him."

Mr. Reynolds hardly knew whether to be discomposed or admiring of such a feminine disposition, and so said only, "And I suppose it is owing to him, as well, that you are so easy in company, at an age when most girls have hardly got over their first blushes and schoolgirl giggles?"

"Any ease of manner I have is certainly owing entirely to him, for he has engaged me in clever banter since I was twelve years of age, and while I hope I may acquit myself a little better now than then, it is at any rate long since I have been affrighted by conversation with any body."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When the ladies had retired to the drawing room, they did not mix very well, and it was not until she was assisting her aunt with the tea that Elizabeth was able to exchange a few quiet words with Jane and Mrs. Gardiner.

"And how do you like Miss Reynolds?" asked Elizabeth playfully.

"She is certainly very fashionable," said Jane, but she looked a little doubtful.

"Dear Jane!" cried Lizzy. "That is the nearest I have ever heard you come to saying that anybody is unpleasant. She is certainly very talkative, and very instructive. Whatever can she mean by it?"

Mrs. Gardiner busied herself about the tea. "I understand that her brother has taken her out to country houses with him sometimes, and she has met a few persons of rank, whose likenesses he was taking. I suppose that has given her a great deal of consequence in the schoolroom, and that she has not yet accustomed herself to life outside it."

"I suppose she imagines it sufficient to overawe us all, that she has been introduced to an earl, who has immediately forgotten her name," said Elizabeth with a laugh. "Well--she is come from school but yesterday, and doubtless will come right soon. She can hardly be a very pleasant guest for poor Mrs. Ellison in the meanwhile, however."

Mrs. Gardiner considered. "Mrs. Ellison does not seem too much troubled by her, though she was surprised when Miss Reynolds told her that her lace was out of fashion. I think the Miss Bingleys are the most offended."

"They are certainly sitting in offended state," sighed Elizabeth. "Come, Jane, I think you had better go to their rescue. They are fonder of you than of me--no, no, don't quarrel with me; it is to nobody's demerit to like you better, as you are infinitely better yourself. Now, Aunt, we must do something to rescue Lady Hartwick, and poor Mrs. Ellison. Shall I go and talk of Fordyce, or the Spectator?"

"It might be rather dull, but I cannot see that it would help matters."

"It will not, but it will grant us one further amusement, for we will thereby be enabled to discover if Miss Reynolds talks at great length on subjects she does not know, as well as on those she does."

Mrs. Gardiner shook her head in protest, but Elizabeth had already joined the little group. Mrs. Ellison looked as nearly cross as Elizabeth had ever seen her, and Lady Hartwick was merely staring.

"Miss Elizabeth!" cried Miss Reynolds as she approached, "I was just saying to Lady Hartwick that she really must learn Italian. Dante is simply divine in his native tongue!"

Elizabeth was surprised into silence.

"Lady Hartwick said it might be a little improper, but I assured her she is wrong--quite wrong. It is a very common misconception of Dante," continued Miss Reynolds, preening a little. "My instructor Mr. Modigliani--for you must know we had only the best instructors at Mrs. Goodwin's, that is to say only native speakers--says there is nothing in it which a young lady may not hear."

"I have heard, indeed, that the Paradiso--" began Elizabeth uncertainly, but she was cut short by the other.

"The Paradiso! Oh no, my dear, I was speaking of the Inferno. Certainly there are some words, some phrases, which are a little broad, which might not entirely suit a narrow and uneducated mind; but upon my word, there is so much rectitude of morality, so much just punishment of offenders, that upon the whole I must think it entirely improving."

"And Mrs. Goodwin, I take it, thinks the same?" suggested Elizabeth, attempting to find some inoffensive but not untruthful reply.

"She depends entirely upon Mr. Modigliani's good judgment, I assure you."

Elizabeth smiled. "As she does not read Italian, and Mr. Modigliani does, that may be the most sensible approach."

"Mrs. Goodwin is sensibility itself."

"Ah, certainly!" cried Elizabeth, unable to hide her amusement. "She must have a great deal of sensibility, to allow young ladies to read Dante!"

"Indeed," said Miss Reynolds, not understanding her, "for there are many who would reject it as unsuitable for young ladies, from a misplaced sense of delicacy. Such backward, outdated foibles are really not the thing these days among the best society, I assure you."

Elizabeth, hiding a smile, determined to turn the conversation. "Mrs. Goodwin must be very pleased to have you understand Italian, for I am sure it renders the opera much more intelligible."

"Oh indeed!--that is to say, it renders the booklet intelligible. I never go without purchasing the booklet, and I always look at that. It is a little difficult to understand what the singers themselves are saying, to be sure, though it certainly need not be. If they would take a little trouble to pronounce it correctly--but then I daresay half of them have no Italian themselves."

"Still, they might certainly engage a native speaker to correct their pronunciation," replied Elizabeth, unable to refrain from pursuing the line of conversation. "I daresay there are only a few people in any opera house that could understand it at any rate, but they might take a little trouble. Perhaps your Mr. Modigliani would be good enough to assist them."

In Miss Reynolds' effusion on the cleverness and goodness of Mr. Modigliani, Mrs. Ellison made good her escape, and went to relieve her generous maternal feelings and outdated delicacy, by expressing her indignation to Mrs. Gardiner. Lady Hartwick looked as though she would like to move with her mother, but noticing that the Miss Bingleys were seated where they could observe her, stayed where she was.

"Are you often at the opera?" Elizabeth now asked Miss Reynolds.

"Oh! As often as my brother thinks proper for a young lady to be out from her school," replied the other with perfect unconcern. "Though Mrs. Goodwin has very modern, liberal ideas on such subjects. She often says that the greatest education a young lady can receive is to be at her ease in good society, and would not hamper us from going out in good company at any time, howsoever much it might interfere with any other studies. But she would certainly not allow that to suffice, for in addition to allowing us to go out as often as we may, she brings in some of her most respectable acquaintance each week, in order that the young ladies may have some experience in acquainting themselves with ladies and gentlemen who are not known to them. You must be aware, Miss Elizabeth, that it is only experience in society that can lead to true ease in it."

Elizabeth felt herself too sensible of this principle at the moment, to leave her the power of saying anything to the purpose. Luckily, however, at that moment the gentlemen came in. Mr. Reynolds, with an expression of some concern, went at once to his sister and Elizabeth, and Mr. Bingley, she observed, naturally joined his own sisters and Jane. The Ellisons and Gardiners sat down together on a pair of settees, and Sir John and Mr. George were immediately joined by Lady Hartwick, and stood talking by the fire. The tea being just at that moment ready, Elizabeth was called to assist Mrs. Gardiner in distributing the cups, and in her absence perceived that Mr. Reynolds was remonstrating with his sister, though by her expression she did not mean to be guided by him. Their discussion was brief, and he walked away in apparent anger, though he soon recovered himself. Elizabeth found that Mr. Reynolds' tea fell to her lot, and as she gave it to him he took the opportunity to speak to her.

"You have several younger sisters, I believe, Miss Elizabeth?" he said in an undertone.

"There are five of us all together, and I am the second."

"Then you can hardly be a stranger to little family quarrels. You must know how much embarrassment they can occasion; how inextricably one seems tangled in them."

"It is often the case that the behavior of younger siblings may reflect unjustly upon the character of the elder," she replied, taking pity upon him.

"Exactly! You take my meaning," cried he. "And indeed the unconsidered speech of the inexperienced may reflect undeservedly upon themselves. They do not understand how it will be taken."

"I do not doubt it," replied Elizabeth, thinking of her own somewhat ungovernable youngest sister, and the censure her ill-timed liveliness had occasionally brought upon the family.

Mr. Reynolds seemed encouraged by this, and talked so cheerfully, that Elizabeth had very little leisure to wonder what cause could render him so pleased with her pardon, when that of the rest of the company was still lacking.

After tea was drank, Mr. Gardiner called for a little music. The Gardiners had no harp, but they had a capital pianoforte, and to this the girls were summoned. Lady Hartwick was begged to open the instrument, and did so graciously and briefly. The Miss Bingleys followed, and contributed several very handsome duets.

While Miss Caroline was playing, Miss Reynolds, who had been sulking at her brother's reprimand, relinquished her solitary seat, and placed herself by Elizabeth.

"The Miss Bingleys play rather handsomely," she began. "It is nothing to equal Miss Warwick, of course, but then Mrs. Goodwin has always the best teachers. Miss Warwick was on the stage for years, you know--played in a hundred exhibitions--but she said she preferred teaching at a school. You should hear her play Mozart! I wonder that the Miss Bingleys sing in English; to my mind Italian performances are infinitely superior."

"Perhaps they play with their audience in mind," said Elizabeth gravely, "they cannot be aware that there is anybody here, who might be able to translate."

"Perhaps--but it is not my idea of wisdom, to defer to those who have the least knowledge and experience of music in selecting what to play. Even those who do not understand may at least be improved by having something in good taste set before them."

Elizabeth would make no answer to that, but when Miss Reynolds was of necessity asked to play, it did not surprise her in the least to find her search through the music with anxious parade, and at last withdraw an aria from La clemenza de Tito. This she performed with great spirit but with only tolerable skill; she seconded it by another song from the same opera, and then withdrew from the pianoforte.

Elizabeth and Jane were now called upon to succeed her at the instrument, and acquitted themselves admirably, Jane singing and Elizabeth playing quietly so as not to overpower her sister's voice. They were attended to about as much as performers usually are on such occasions, but Elizabeth, glancing about occasionally, found that they were very constantly watched by Mr. Reynolds and Mr. Bingley, and rejoined by them again as soon as they had done playing. She could not help observing that both gentlemen were rather particular in their attentions for the rest of the evening.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It is the duty of all members of society who are comfortably placed, who have a house in Town, and an income, both of sufficient size, to give at least one dance every winter, whether or not they may have any daughters to marry. Mrs. Ellison's love of society, and Mr. Ellison's love of displaying his collection of pictures, made neither of them very disagreeable to the task, and as their daughter's wedding had been during the Little Season this dance was considered to be in her honor, as a presentation to those of their friends who had not been in town when she had changed her name. An early date had been fixed upon, as all of their particular friends were now arrived in London, and that very Friday was to bring the felicity of a large dance.

Elizabeth, however, found that she looked forward less to this source of happiness than to the arrival of her family, for she wanted her father's conversation and companionship. Though always fond of Jane and of her aunt, the former was too taken up with not thinking about Mr. Bingley to be capable of much rational thought, and the latter was obliged to attend to her housekeeping and her children as well as to her niece. The Miss Bingleys were not to her taste, and though she called on Lady Hartwick two or three times a week, that lady was not quite equal to her own play of wits, and though intelligent enough to grasp it, lacked either spirit or inclination to respond in kind. Elizabeth had therefore two reasons besides domestic affection for anticipating her family's arrival with pleasure: in Sloane Street she might hope for the liveliness of intellectual discourse with her father, and the possibility of taking more solitary exercise without trouble to anybody.

However much or little Elizabeth might be disposed to regard the dance, the morning must be given over almost entirely to preparation for it. There were the usual urgent yard of ribbon to go out and buy, the purse which proved, upon examination, to have a hole in the netting, and the dress which was pronounced unfit to be worn. These usual feminine tribulations were overcome in good time, however, and the three ladies were downstairs at the appointed hour, looking well enough to be easy in their manners. On Jane's complexion, as she looked forward to an evening with Mr. Bingley, there was a bloom which Elizabeth had never seen there before.

"Well, Jane, you are admirably armored," said she slyly as they climbed into the coach.

"Armored? My dearest Lizzy, whatever are you talking of?"

"You are equipped for war, my dear: for the conquest of whatever remains of Mr. Bingley's heart. But if he should seem to be coming to the point, you had better put if off if you can do so, for he really ought not ask for your hand until he has met our father."

"Lizzy, how can you talk such nonsense!" cried Jane, but she colored so prettily that Elizabeth could not repent.

"Come, Elizabeth, you had better not tease Jane too much, or she may return the favor when you have a gentleman of your own," said Mrs. Gardiner knowingly. Elizabeth thought of Mr. Reynolds, and was silent.

They entered a house almost brilliantly lit. Mrs. Ellison greeted them warmly, but could spare them only a moment, for though they were by no means the first guests, they were also by no means the last. Moving directly into the ball room, they soon found that they were expected in at least one quarter. Mr. Bingley made his appearance almost immediately, greeted them all pleasantly, asked how they did and how they liked the weather, and, in short, secured Miss Bennet's company for the first two dances. He then attached himself to their party and, though taking pains to be generally civil, was plainly enchanted with Jane. Elizabeth, who could have forgiven him entire neglect for such an object, was further endeared by his attempts to attach Jane's family as well as herself, and within her own heart gave him her blessing.

That he had a strong preference for Jane, rapidly becoming a firm attachment, could hardly be longer doubted; it remained only to see of what duration that attachment would be. His youth and the quickness of his attachment gave her some alarms, and his sisters were too little amiable to be good sources of information upon his constancy. She found herself wishing to be better acquainted with that Mr. Darcy, whom Mr. Bingley claimed as an old friend. He had certainly seemed a very silent fellow upon the one occasion when she had met him, but the very unpleasantness of his countenance convinced her that he would be a stern judge, and that no weakness of character would be dismissed by him, could she but convince him to talk.

The wish was hardly made when she saw, coming through the crowd, that very Mr. Darcy. He did not see Elizabeth's party and indeed, by his manner of walking, seemed rather to be attempting to leave something behind than to gain some particular object. Mr. Bingley, however, saw him, and greeted him warmly.

"Darcy! Where on earth have you been? I have not seen you since Wednesday. Here are the Miss Bennets--I am sure you remember them--and their aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner."

An expression of surprise flickered briefly over Mr. Darcy's countenance and was replaced by one of perfect unconcern as he shook hands with the Gardiners. Elizabeth could only be gratified that he should see her relations, whom Miss Caroline had represented so poorly, for having seen them he could not be insensible of their gentility. At that moment the music began the signal for the dancers to take their places.

"I believe this dance is ours, Miss Bennet," said Mr. Bingley pleasantly. "May I recommend, Mr. Darcy, that you follow my excellent example, and take a Miss Bennet as your partner to the dance?"

"Bingley, you know I hate to dance," replied he, and then, to the Gardiners and Elizabeth, "Excuse me." He bowed and walked off.

Mr. Bingley and Jane, already in motion, had heard nothing and seen only that Mr. Darcy was not dancing, and Elizabeth's great comfort was that there would be nothing to trouble Jane.

"Never mind, Lizzy; so rude a man is not half worth dancing with, even if he have ten thousand a year," said Mrs. Gardiner spiritedly.

"Indeed not; in fact I think we must look out for Miss Reynolds, that we may partner him fairly," said Elizabeth, passing off her discomfiture with a jest.

"Did I hear my name mentioned?" asked Mr. Reynolds, joining them.

"I think not, sir," replied Elizabeth with composure, "but we are very glad to see you."

"I hope you are fond of dancing, Miss Elizabeth."

"I am--indeed, you have seen me do it before."

"And the sight gave me great pleasure! Will you give me greater pleasure, by dancing with myself this time?"

Elizabeth expressed her acceptance, and they two were soon placed beside Jane and Mr. Bingley. Mr. Reynolds danced well, and to add to her other satisfactions, she was soon enabled to work her way down the length of the room, in full view of Mr. Darcy.

"Will you hate me, Miss Elizabeth, if I ask how you like London?" began her partner.

"Only if you are satisfied by the usual frivolities about shopping and company."

"Not at all!" cried he, smiling, "For I wish to know how it compares to your more usual haunts."

"Oh, as to that, there is almost no comparison," said she, shrugging up her shoulders. "Here we have more society, and there more beauty in the countryside. How are the two things to be compared together?"

"Ah, but there is one thing they have in common: yourself. How you like each may surely be compared. Surely you have asked yourself whether you are happier in this place, or in that."

"Indeed I have not," replied she coolly, "but take them both as I find them. The countryside is my home, and I am always happy there with my domestic comforts; Town has given me a great deal of society and shopping, which has its own delights. The more rational pleasures of the country make the temporary excitement of the season pleasant, and the pleasures of the London season give variety to the regular course of country life."

Mr. Reynolds smiled at this philosophical account. "Surely the formation of new acquaintance may be counted as a rational pleasure?"

"If they are acquaintance worth keeping, though the very novelty almost disallows rationality," she replied with half-mocking seriousness. "But once those new acquaintance have settled down to a steady and calm intercourse, they may certainly be counted among the rational pleasures."

"Then it is primarily the novelty of Town that makes it irrational?"

She frowned thoughtfully as they took another step towards the top of the room. "Say rather that the quest for novelty is necessarily an interruption of more rational pursuits. Should a gentleman exist who came to Town every year to see the same five or ten intimate families, admitted no other to his acquaintance, and purchased nothing but what was required to replace old clothes or furnishings, I should admit him to be enjoying London in a rational, though not a very amiable, manner. But we cannot always be rational, and if the folly of all the world may be confined to London, I think we may consider ourselves fortunate."

"Ah!" cried he, "but then what is to become of those poor souls who must labor and live in London? You are not very merciful to us, if we must bear the folly of all the world."

"So it is, I am afraid," said she, shaking her curls in mock seriousness. "However, it does not seem to signify very much. Those who make London their folly confine it to the winter, and therefore those who reside here may do the same."

"But are we to have no share in rational pleasures?"

"To be sure, you may partake of reading, conversation, and healthy exercise in the same proportions as you country counterparts. You will always lack the countryside, however, and for that I pity you," she added, determined to discourage him.

"Could nothing make amends to you for such a loss?" said he, with a conscious smile. "Nay, have you been to Kensington Gardens in the spring? I am sure not even the beauties of Hertfordshire are equal to it."

"Not equal at all," replied Elizabeth, smiling, "but very different. I will not pretend to lay down any general law there, but as for me--I do not think all the gardens in the world could make up to me for my dusty country lanes."

With this remark Mr. Reynolds did not appear so well pleased as to persist in the conversation, and they talked a little while of drawing, but as he found her interested in art without being possessed of much interest in his artistic ambition, their conversation soon became desultory.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

As soon as Elizabeth and Jane returned to their party with their partners, they were greeted by the Harringtons. Mr. Harrington had come, it seemed, expressly to engage Jane for the next two, and asked Elizabeth for the two after that. A moment later Mr. George Ellison was escorting her to the floor, and she had just time to consider that there might be other old friends of Mr. Bingley whose information as to his character might be equal to, and manners better than, Mr. Darcy's, before he began the conversation.

"I think, Miss Elizabeth," he began, "that I know better than to ask you how you like London."

Elizabeth laughed aloud at that. "Indeed, sir, for as I have been here nearly two weeks, I must of necessity be heartily tired of hearing the question."

"And are you equally tired of answering it?"

"I am. What more is there to say?"

"One must say something, I suppose, and it would be convenient to have a subject by rote--but then it is so inconvenient to have one so worn out, that I think we should do better without it. Let us therefore consider it dispatched, and proceed to another."

"By all means."

"What do you think of our houseguest, Miss Reynolds?"

Elizabeth, glancing at him, was met with such an expression of mock solemnity as made her scarcely able to keep her countenance.

"I think, sir, that she is very fashionably dressed, and plays Mozart with a great deal of spirit."

"Ah! You will keep your sex's secrets, then."

"Will you not?"

"I will open all the secrets of mankind to you. I shall prove it this moment: ask me my real opinion of any of my acquaintance."

"Very well, then: what do you think of Mr. Bingley?"

He laughed. "I think he is a fine, handsome fellow, with a fine, handsome fortune, and as good a temper and generous a heart as I ever met with. He is, moreover, intelligent, well-informed, and of excellent moral principles. I only wish he would not be falling in and out of love so often, and that he would go to my tailor. He seems to have solved the former problem himself, however, for I have seen him lately more in love than I ever thought possible, and I think it may end in an arrangement which will prevent any more of his little adorations--none of which have ever come to anything, I may add, but all of which have been a little embarrassing for his friends. There: is that not perfect frankness? I assure you I would not have said so much, if it were not for Mrs. Gardiner's perfect faith in you, for I have never known a woman with such an eye for character, or for laces."

Elizabeth could not but be pleased and could not but acknowledge that he had been very frank with her. "I will be frank with you in return, then, and say that I do not like Miss Reynolds at all. She is ill-bred and presumptuous, without even any of the usual justifications of fortune, education, or rank. She plays tolerably, but I suspect that music and Italian are the furthest reaches of her education."

"She does play tolerably well and extensively, and I encourage it a great deal, as preventing any conversation with her--but then afterwards, she will hear nothing but her own praises for a quarter of an hour at least, and will supply them herself if nobody else will. I have been dining at my sister's a great deal of late," he added inconsequently.

"Shameless fellow! To leave your mother so abandoned."

"My mother has very little to fear from her," said he grimly.

"Your mother cannot escape from her!" cried she. "You men little think of your freedom in escaping to the billiards room, the library, or the club, but we women are not so conveniently circumstanced."

"In truth, unless I leave the house, I am as inconveniently circumstanced as my mother, for our fair guest scruples not to offer me a game of billiards. She has learned from the very best instructors--for, you know, Mrs. Goodwin is very particular about her teachers--and were the table only even, could show me a very good game--but then, it is a rather bad table; she is rather surprised at my having it at all--she could give me the name of the very best maker of billiard-tables in London."

So perfectly did he imitate Miss Reynolds' manner of speech that Elizabeth was provoked to laughter, and was quite out of countenance for some minutes. Luckily for her a figure of the dance protected her, and when they were able to speak again, she replied with tolerable calmness,

"The moral, I am afraid, is not a very good one; for your mother, meaning only kindness in taking in a stranger, has not met with very much of it."

"At least she stays with us no longer than a fortnight. It will be a very unpleasant fortnight indeed.--but I shall be a philosopher. I only wish I had been by when she arrived. I know of two or three respectable ladies who let lodgings, and who might have accommodated her that day, but now the invitation is given."

"Would you have been wiser than your mother, or less kind?" inquired Elizabeth, smiling.

"Wiser, to be sure, for Miss Reynolds is no stranger to me."
"Indeed?"

"Not at all. I have long been acquainted with Mr. Reynolds through my father's delight in his pictures, and he and I both being young men together, have ridden, hunted, shared a club--I convinced him to use my tailor, for you ought to have seen how he was dressed when we first met!--in short, we have long known each other tolerably well. In such a course of things I could hardly avoid meeting his sister some few times."

"And has she always been as she is now?"

"No. Her school, and her great acquaintance, have spoilt her entirely, and she has been as she now is for the last few years. We may hope, however, that she will amend--she is still very young, and has a critical eye for fashion, at least."

"It is to be hoped," agreed Elizabeth, "that some exposure to society will give her better manners. But may it so amend her morals?"

"Ah! You mean the Inferno."

"Indeed! Very proper reading for a young lady."

"And what do you know of it?" he asked playfully.

"My father has allowed me tolerable latitude in my reading. When he forbids a book, I assume there is good reason," she said, in the same tone.

"Well, I may set your mind at ease there. Miss Reynolds is a perfect mistress of sufficient Italian pronunciation to give her musical performance a certain tone. As for Dante, she has pronounced it without understanding. She talks of it because it gives her a certain consequence, a notice among her acquaintance which really amounts to notoriety, but she will not believe that. I know it distresses her brother exceedingly."

"Ah! You explain the mystery beautifully. But what can that Italian master be about?"

"As I have never met him, I shall not attempt to explain it."

"Very sensible of you, sir, and I shall take your example. Well, I will clear her name as best I can manage in my own circles. Her poor brother must manage the rest."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

On the whole, the evening passed agreeably. Both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Harrington had asked Jane for the supper set, but Mr. Bingley having luckily asked first, Jane was enabled to respond according to her preference, and Mr. Bingley was the fortunate man who possessed the opportunity to pay Miss Bennet his attentions during the length of the meal, without exciting remark. Mr. Harrington did, however, engage her twice. In truth, news of the young ladies' fortunes had preceded them, and society finding them handsome and genteel as well as possessed of fortunes, had termed them altogether eligible, so that they did not lack for partners. Elizabeth had no gentleman in particular that she wished to encourage, and as the majority of her dance partners were pleasant, and above half tolerable dancers, she considered herself to have had a reasonably fortunate evening. Her greatest pleasure, however, must come from Mr. George Ellison's information as to Mr. Bingley, and from watching Jane, who was admired on all sides. Her beauty and bloom were both just such as was appealing to all; her even temper, good nature, and evident sweetness recommended her further, and by the time the evening was over, she was generally pronounced to be not only eligible, but a beauty.

As they prepared themselves for departure, they found Mr. Bingley had joined their party again. Though the dance had not been large enough for Mr. Bingley to ask Jane a third time to dance without considerable particularity, he was determined to be nearby as they were leaving, and attended them to their coach. To Elizabeth's annoyance, Mr. Darcy was with his friend at the time, and seemed to feel himself obliged to atone for his earlier rudeness by assisting her now. There was nothing to be done about it, however, and their departing coach was fare-welled by one smiling and one severe countenance.

"Now, Lizzy," began Mrs. Gardiner, when they had gained their carriage and were being driven home, "Mr. Reynolds has certainly behaved rather particularly to you the last two evenings."

"He has," agreed Elizabeth thoughtfully; "I hope he does not mean anything by it."

"Why, do you dislike him?" asked Mrs. Gardiner, in some surprise.

"Not as a dinner companion, nor as a conversationalist, nor even as an artist. But as a lover, he would be somewhat deficient to my mind. There is a little lack of perfect uprightness, a little too much of artifice about him, and even something which might be considered mercenary."

"I hope, Lizzy," said Jane very seriously, "that you would not consider a--an attachment between a man and woman whose fortunes are not equal as mercenary."

"No, nor even a match between a man and a woman whose fortunes are not in that proportion which society expects, for equality is generally neither expected nor desired," replied Lizzy with some warmth.

"I suppose," said Jane slowly, "there is something in his early preference, which is a little unseemly."

"Such a preference must generally be supposed sincere when it is on the side of the larger fortune, though on the side of the smaller it may sometimes raise suspicions. But it is not that to which I alluded. I have held my opinion of him for some time, since we were girls, in fact. I have always found his method of managing his business somewhat uncongenial."

"I am sure, Lizzy, that you do not despise him merely for wishing to have a good income. Indeed, I should hope that you would respect a man for wishing to excel in his own line," said Mrs. Gardiner gently.

"I hope I shall never despise anybody for wishing to make a good income honestly, and by his own labor and management!" cried Elizabeth with energy. "Indeed, such a man is always respectable, whether or not he be genteel. No, I spoke rather of a little artifice in the way Mr. Reynolds' affairs are managed. There is nothing very new in a superior artist running a workshop and managing the production of many works of art there. But I find something a little false about his calling all such pictures his own because he has contributed a few brushstrokes beyond his signature. Oh, to be sure, the thing is widely known, and none of his patrons are deceived; I do not suspect him of actual falsehood. He may even be doing a great deal of good, in employing many promising young artists who would otherwise be unable to support themselves. But in that case I cannot quite see the necessity for talking of Art--it is plain and simple business, which might be wholesome if so called--and, in short, there is something at least indelicate about it which I cannot like, and therefore I must beg your leave to like him better as an acquaintance than as a suitor."

Jane and Mrs. Gardiner both seemed satisfied by this speech, and the subject was allowed to drop.

Elizabeth said nothing of her conversation with Mr. George Ellison to Jane, but the whole of it was repeated to her aunt, who heard the portion pertaining to Miss Reynolds with interest, and that pertaining to Mr. Bingley with pleasure. Her own information was shared as freely. Mr. Gardiner had discovered that Mr. Bingley was respectable himself, and from a respectable family; he had acquitted himself well at university, notwithstanding his remarks to Elizabeth upon the subject; always paid his debts; and now moved in a fairly fashionable society, without being known for any of its usual vices. He was widely given a character of being an amiable and sensible man. He had something of a reputation for being in love a little too often in his university days, but as in each instance the lady had been engaged elsewhere within a few months, it seemed more likely that he had been rejected, or even unnoticed, than that he had abandoned the objects of his young fancy. He had never seemed to grieve for more than a week's time, and it was to be inferred that his heart had not yet been deeply touched.

"I am very glad to hear it," replied Elizabeth. "To be sure he and Jane have not known each other long, but they seem well suited, and I am glad to hear there is no reason to suppose any evil thing of him. We shall see how they go on--I shall give no encouragement, but I should be glad to see Jane well settled with a man who can really value her."

"I am sure that everyone that knows Jane must love her and wish to see her so well settled," agreed Mrs. Gardiner. "But I am a little surprised that Mr. George should be so very frank with you."

"So am I--and I can only suppose that his behavior stems from a belief that I or my family might soon be intimately connected with both the Bingley and Reynolds families."

Mrs. Gardiner thought for a moment. "Perhaps. He might, however, have another reason to wish to recommend himself to you, Lizzy. Jane may be very beautiful, but she was not the only one admired last night."

"My dear aunt, your fondness for me leads you astray!" cried Elizabeth, laughing. "Mr. George Ellison was very amiable, but he will have to do more than dance once with me, and tell me how vexed he is by mutual acquaintance, before I believe him in love with me."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Posted on 2014-03-31

Saturday, Gracechurch Street

My Dear Charlotte,

I have a great deal to say to you of last night's party, but I am afraid this letter will be a little short. I am in such a deplorable state! I have never been so agitated in London before, but it seems that our little fortunes have made us quite desirable socially, and we are here, there, and everywhere, dancing, dining, and drinking tea, till I have hardly a moment for solitary reflection. Even my Aunt Gardiner laughs and says my Uncle must buy her new muslins, for hers will be quite worn out. I mean to surprise her by having a few dresses made up for her, and have bought her a new tippet, as an apology for keeping her out so much in the cold. It has been a fair, dry winter, but those are always very cold, and there ought to be tippets all round. In a few minutes I shall be allowed at last to fetch mine, and go out for some exercise. All of this society is really too much for me, and I miss my solitary walks at home! Aunt Gardiner, however, has taken pity upon me, and has done the best she can, by promising to set Jane and myself down in Hyde Park after we have called on Mrs. Ellison this morning.

Her party last night was very pleasant. Mr. Bingley's behavior was particular enough to Jane to convince even her that he must mean something by it. Mr. Harrington is quite as pleased with her as Mr. Bingley, I think, but she not equally so with him, poor fellow. He lacks a certain sweetness and openness of temper, which Jane must want in a husband.

For myself, I have no marital prospects as of yet, but as I am only seventeen this winter, I think Mama will forgive me. Were I to commit the same crime next winter!--but I shall hope that circumstance will spare me. I danced last evening with Mr. George Ellison, and he told me all about Mr. Bingley, and assured me that he has never seen him so attached. You may easily believe that puts Mr. George in my good graces, but though his manner was very pleasant, it was likewise disengaged, and I did not believe him in love with me for half a moment. Mr. Reynolds I believe did mean to make me an object, but I was so determined in expressing my fondness for the country, and it is so necessary that his wife should live in London with him, that I believe I may have frightened him off. His assiduity decreased over the course of our two dances, and so I feel authorized to be hopeful. There was a third gentleman of particular note, who is decidedly not in love with me: a Mr. Darcy, very proud and unpleasant, and a great friend of Mr. Bingley's, who declined absolutely to dance with me, when his friend suggested it! I have mentioned him before, I think; he was the fellow with the haughty countenance, at whom Miss Caroline Bingley has undoubtedly set her cap. I wish them both joy! for I believe they deserve each other.

Jane is calling to me and I must close. Give all my best love to your family, and I hope soon to hear that you will be joining us in London. I miss your company almost as much as I do the country lanes.

Yours ever,

Elizabeth Bennett

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Jane and Elizabeth spent some two hours at the Park in quick walking and agreeable conversation. They talked a little of Mr. Bingley, whose behavior the night before had been so particular that even Jane felt authorized to own her preference. The exercise and absence of any other company than that of her favorite sister gradually restored Elizabeth to calmer spirits, and when she saw Mr. Harrington coming towards them, she felt entirely capable of greeting him civilly.

"I am just taking a little exercise, and enjoying the fine day--may I turn back with you?" inquired Mr. Harrington politely, and the ladies assenting, they all set off again together.

"You told me last night, Miss Bennet, that you are fond of riding," began Mr. Harrington.

"Very much so. At home I ride almost daily."

"And do you not here?" inquired he, surprised.

"No; my mare did not come with us."

"You must miss the exercise very much."

"We walk out often, as you see, and that makes tolerable amends."

"That is very well," said he seriously; "I dislike to see a woman who takes her carriage everywhere, even the shortest distance. If she be not ill or of a frail constitution already, it will make her so."

"Perhaps, however," he continued after a short pause, "you would not mind riding with my mother and sister some day? They ride out every morning, and I generally accompany them. We have a spare horse, and perhaps you would do us the kindness of joining us some morning this next week."

Jane smiled. "That is very kind, but I would not wish to trouble you."

"It would give no trouble; indeed am sure it would be a great pleasure to us all."

Jane hardly knew how to deny anybody a pleasure, and could only give a half-consent, while pleading that the house would be disordered, as they would be removing to Sloane Street on the Monday.

"Ah! Then my sister shall consult her schedule, and write you a note as to what day, and I will bring it myself to Sloane Street on the Tuesday. I could not approve myself if I asked your parents to allow you to ride out in the company of a man they had never met."

Jane smiled her acquiescence, and they walked on in trivial conversation until they reached the entrance to the Park. Mr. Harrington having now an engagement elsewhere was turning to go, and was just making his last adieus to the Miss Bennets when a chariot drove up, closely followed by a barouche, and discharged between them the Bingleys and Mrs. Wilks, together with Mr. Hurst, Mr. Darcy, and a very young lady, dressed in fine white muslin and an elegant fur-trimmed pelisse, whom Elizabeth took to be Miss Darcy.

Mr. Bingley perceived Mr. Harrington, and the two bowed to each other. The latter gentleman looked once more at Jane, and then walked off, as the Miss Bennets turned toward the new arrivals.

"Come, Charles, give Miss Darcy your arm," Miss Caroline was saying, but Mr. Bingley was already walking towards the Miss Bennets and greeting them cheerfully.

"We are just come for our daily exercise--will you not join us?" inquired he, and, Jane assenting, the two were soon walking off together, and Elizabeth found herself obliged to follow. The company, she found, sorted themselves quite naturally. Mrs. Wilks, in her capacity as guardian of the Miss Bingleys, must remain with Mr. Hurst, who was walking with Miss Bingley upon his arm, and Miss Darcy, having glanced once shyly at her brother, stayed to walk with Mrs. Wilks. Elizabeth, being an energetic walker, soon found herself in the front of the group; Mr. Darcy, doubtless due to his height, did the same, and Miss Caroline lost no opportunity of joining him. Mr. Bingley and Jane soon fell a little behind, though remaining close enough for propriety.

"Was it not a lovely ball last night?" began Miss Bingley.

Elizabeth concurred with this opinion, and added, "Mrs. Ellison is an amiable and elegant hostess."

"Oh! Yes, I quite adore her. So handsome, and so accomplished."

"And very amiable," repeated Mr. Darcy. "Her good will to those around her does her credit."

"I quite agree with you there," said Elizabeth. "She is one of the most generous and benevolent women I have ever known."

"She seems very taken with your family," said Miss Caroline. "Pray, how did she come to meet your aunt?"

"I believe Mr. Ellison and Mr. Gardiner met through some affairs of business--but the ladies were endeared to each other by Mrs. Gardiner being of some assistance in a juvenile illness of Lady Hartwick's."

Miss Caroline found that she could not turn this to any advantage, and so turned the conversation. "And you, Mr. Darcy--how did you like the ball?"

"Very well, for a ball. I am not fond of dancing unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner--the strain of making conversation with someone unknown to me is unpleasant--but on the whole it went off very well."

Elizabeth understood him, but only remarked calmly, "You must have a very wide circle of acquaintance, sir, if you can afford to dislike conversing with anyone unknown to you."

"I do not think it is what most men would call wide. But I am not of their temper; I delight in having a few intimate friends, and care very little for a large acquaintance."

"Ah! Then we have only to solve the mystery of why you attend dances at all."

Mr. Darcy, startled at last out of his calm countenance, looked half-affronted, and Miss Caroline came instantly to his defense. "I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, that there are a great many families about town who are very glad to see him--to whom he lends a great deal of distinction, merely by attending their dances, whether or not he ever dances himself; and I am sure he attends only in compliment to them."

"Not at all," replied he calmly; "I merely attend because my friends ask me to."

"In other words," said Elizabeth, laughing, "very nearly the same thing. You go in order to give pleasure to others, instead of to yourself."

"You see, Miss Elizabeth--it is his virtue, not his vice, that takes him there," said Miss Caroline triumphantly.

"That is a very reasonable explanation," said she, smiling.

"What other would you offer?" demanded Miss Bingley, offended.

"Nay, that is too much to ask!" cried Elizabeth, laughing. "I do not know Mr. Darcy well enough--I am not in a position to ascertain whether it is his generosity or his vanity that compels him. I shall make you no answer there."

"My vanity!" said Mr. Darcy, surprised out of his dignified silence. "And how, pray tell, might my vanity compel me to a dance?"

"Any person's vanity must be flattered by the capability to give pleasure, merely by appearing, and without making any effort to please. You could not be human if you did not feel it."

"Mr. Darcy has no vanity, I assure you," said Miss Caroline coldly. "It is really too much to accuse him of it, because he does as good society bids."

"I would have to be more inhuman than Miss Elizabeth fears," said he, with a return to perfect calmness, "to have no vanity at all, but I think in this case you will find Miss Caroline has the right of it. I merely do as good society bids."

"And yet you do not dance."

"You must allow me, madam, to choose which of society's dictates I shall follow," said he, with a slight bow.

"Oh, certainly," replied Elizabeth airily. "But if they are not all followed, it must be allowed that there is some other motive."

"Only that I find dancing disagreeable, when I am not particularly acquainted with my partner," said Mr. Darcy very distinctly, and with a forbidding countenance.

"How unaccountable! Miss Caroline, shall we ask him why he should find dancing any more disagreeable than attending dances?"

"It is not everyone, Miss Elizabeth, who likes a ball," replied that lady haughtily. "There are those who find rational pleasures infinitely superior to those of foolish gaiety."

Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy start.

"Perhaps Miss Caroline is right--some of us may be more rational than amiable," said he, with a cold bow.

Elizabeth colored with a sudden apprehension. Mr. Darcy had certainly been standing nearby when she had been dancing with Mr. George Ellison--had he overheard her conversation? Had he, worse luck, taken it as applying to himself? She was at once mortified by the supposition, and angry at him for being so vain as to think everybody must be always talking of himself. She walked silently for some few moments, and by the time she was tolerably composed Miss Caroline had begun talking of the grounds at Pemberley. She found that she neither had, nor wished to have, any part in their conversation, and walked a little faster until she was as much alone as she might be in such a group.

"Teasing man!" said she to herself. "He must have a very good opinion of himself indeed, so to ignore the common courtesy of all the world! And how very vexing, to have him think I was talking of him--as if I thought of him from one day to the next. I certainly shall not prove him right by thinking of him now."

With such a determination, she attended only to the beauties of a fine January day; and yet it was only when they reached their own carriage that she found herself tolerably composed, and could allow Mr. Darcy to hand her into it with cold though adequate politeness, when Mr. Bingley had handed Jane in. Mr. Bingley expressed some hopes of finding them in the park the next day, to which Jane responded that it was very likely, as the Gardiners always walked there on Sunday afternoons when the weather was fine. These encouragements given, they drove off at once in the direction of Cheapside.

When they were in motion, Elizabeth spoke to her sister.

"Well, Jane, and had you a pleasant walk?"

"Very much so; I found the exercise refreshing, and the company pleasant," replied she, coloring.

"Oh, Jane! it gives me great joy to see you happy. But there--I will say no more than that. I shall remain impatient for our removal to Sloane Street, and there I shall quite wear out the paths in the garden, and hope even to find some country lane I may traverse with no more company than a maid."

"I am sorry, Lizzy, that you did not find the solitude you sought today. Perhaps I ought not to have accompanied you."

"Dearest Jane! How can you say so? You know that your presence is always a comfort to me. It was other presences that troubled me today," she added darkly.

"I know you are not very fond of Miss Caroline..." began Jane, but Elizabeth interrupted her by laughing.

"Miss Caroline! I would take a dozen Caroline Bingleys if only I could leave that odious Mr. Darcy behind. His manner so offended--I assure you, Jane, he was quite angry that I dared disagree with him. I wish he would marry Miss Caroline, and get the matter over and done with. If you could have seen him today--but there, you had better things to see. I would not alter our morning if I could. You are happy, and there is more than enough matter for contentment for both of us in that."

Mr. Darcy was very differently circumstanced as he was driven home in his barouche. The ride was not a long one, but the conveyance had been brought for the comfort of the ladies. He wished now that he had thought to announce an intention to walk home. Solitude and exercise would have assisted him in composing his feelings, and he sought out the former in his library as soon as he returned to Darcy House.

He could not think why Miss Bennet's archness should so perturb him. She had flattered his consequence, and yet her manner had not been flattering. She had been quite determined not to yield. Darcy had certainly met with the playfully feigned independence of the daughters and mammas of the ton, but Miss Elizabeth was an entirely different creature. Her independence of mind seemed genuine--and yet every look, every word, invited him to subdue it! Darcy owned to himself that he had not met with a very adequate feminine resistance to his own intellect in some time. He was even obliged to admit that, though incorrect due to her own lack of information as to his character, Miss Elizabeth's arguments were tolerably well formed. And he could not forget her sparkling eyes as she laughed--laughed at him!

He frowned. She was certainly an interesting young lady, high-spirited and nimble of intellect. He must be careful so as not to betray any interest. It would certainly be taken in a wrong way. It was almost a lucky thing that she had an uncle in trade, for it protected him from any inclination to find her charming. He owed the Darcy family more in his eventual marriage than twenty thousand pounds and an unconnected country miss. No, the niece of a wholesaler in Cheapside was quite safe from him. He might observe and even admire her from a distance, provided she did not perceive his admiration. His calmest expressions and his quietest manner would allow him to watch her without raising expectations.

Lady Harrington's musical party closed their very occupied day, and succeeded in restoring some of the tranquility that Elizabeth's arguments with Mr. Darcy had robbed her of, for the performers were excellent and the music very pleasant. Mr. Harrington sat by Jane and spoke to her at intervals, and Elizabeth began to wonder if she ought not to speak to Mrs. Gardiner about him. That Jane's preference was all for Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth was sure of. That, indeed, she had made a number of attempts to discourage Mr. Harrington was clear to Elizabeth; yet the mildness of Jane's temper made her incapable of uttering an ungracious word, or a denial so firm as to make itself intelligible to Mr. Harrington. She determined, however, that she would say nothing for the present. Mr. Harrington must be aware that he had a rival for Jane's affections; he had seen Mr. Bingley speaking to her not a quarter of an hour ago. He was a sensible man; he could not be a deceived one; and if he meant to persevere, it was his own affair. Jane could not act against her own character, and as they would soon leave Mrs. Gardiner's house it could hardly be in that lady's power to carry out any course of action. Elizabeth would not interfere.

She had another problem to vex her, however. Several times that night she had perceived Mr. Darcy watching her from his seat across the room. His expression was cold and haughty. The third time she had thus observed him, she had whispered an inquiry to Jane as to whether there were anything amiss with her dress, and had considered retiring to the cloakroom to be certain, but determined that she would not be frightened by him, especially as Jane had replied that her dress was in order. The fourth time she caught him staring at her she stared back and, after a moment, he looked away. An altogether unaccountable man.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Posted on 2014-04-03

Sunday morning found the Gardiners, as usual, taking the air in the Park after morning service. It was a fine day, but colder than the one before, and though grateful for her tippet, Elizabeth could not think Jane looked warm enough. Mr. Bingley and Miss Caroline were soon met with, and to Elizabeth's dismay Mr. Darcy was with them, though the elder Miss Bingley, at least, was nowhere to be seen.

Mr. Darcy greeted them all politely but coolly. Elizabeth was determined to avoid him, and stepped discreetly to her sister's side. Had she not promised to prevent too many tete-a-tetes?

"And so you really are fond of riding?" Mr. Bingley was saying. "I own I am delighted to hear it. I am no great horseman, but I take great pleasure in riding."

"As do I," owned Jane. "Lizzy is a great walker, but riding is my favorite exercise."

"Do you not ride, Miss Elizabeth?" asked Mr. Bingley.

"A little, sir, but I cannot really like it. Still, I have only just learnt, and pleasure may come with facility."

"No doubt, no doubt," returned he, smiling affably. "Still, there is not much pleasure in riding in London. It is so very crowded. A country ride, now: I enjoy that a great deal more."

"I have not ridden out in London, so I cannot compare the two, but I am sure you are right. Exercise is generally pleasanter in the country," said Jane.

"I agree with you there," said Mr. Bingley, "but then the company is so very pleasant in town!"

Jane colored, smiled, and agreed, in a small voice, that it was.

"Come now," thought Elizabeth to herself, "they flirt as much in my presence as my absence! I have scarcely seen a romance proceed so quickly. But then they are very much to each other's tastes, and Jane, at any rate, is old enough to know what she would be about."

Miss Caroline had been very glad to take Mr. Darcy's arm, so that there was no difficulty in proceeding on as they were presently grouped. Elizabeth had very little share in the conversation between Mr. Bingley and Jane, but she was content to avoid Mr. Darcy and to see her sister's happiness.

When they had walked in this way for about an hour, Miss Caroline found herself both cold and fatigued, and began to talk of returning home. Concern was now expressed by Mr. Bingley. He was sure the Miss Bennets and Mrs. Gardiner must be quite as cold as his sister. Had the weather not affected them?

Elizabeth, who longed to be back in Gracechurch Street, protested that she was perfectly warm, but Mr. Bingley pressed Jane to acknowledge a chill, and she found herself powerless to deny it.

"Come, we cannot have the ladies falling ill. You must come by Brook Street, and warm yourself by our fireside, before you return home. Mr. Gardiner--you must assist me in prevailing with the ladies." Mr. Bingley's concern was expressed in all his looks, and seemed to extend so much farther than a desire of having a few moments more with Jane, that Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner felt obliged to yield. It had, in truth, grown very cold, and so, with only the stipulation that they must not stay long, they drove to Brook Street.

The house was as elegant as Elizabeth had remembered, though they were now shown into a smaller and more comfortable apartment than the drawing room they had sat in when they came to dinner; Elizabeth thought it more pleasant and less grand, and was not surprised that Mr. Bingley should be fonder of it than his sisters were. Mr. Bingley was as assiduous in the careful placement of chairs for all the ladies as he had been eager to gain their assent to coming in the first place, and they were soon all seated at a comfortable distance from a cheerful blaze, and furnished with punch.

"I must say that I am a little surprised at your housekeeper's being so calm. I should think mine would be quite out of countenance at my fetching home such a lot of half-frozen strangers!" observed Mrs. Gardiner merrily, watching that lady depart after bringing in the punch.

"I am afraid I vex her greatly," said Mr. Bingley, with frank good-humor. "I can never allow my friends to pass by my door without stopping in--I am very fond of good company--and Mrs. Rogers is quite accustomed to my bringing up guests at all hours."

"I certainly hope our housekeeper equal to our having morning visitors," said Miss Bingley coolly.

"To be sure, that could hardly vex her much. But then we often have people to dinner without any warning."

"And I am sure half of them go hungry, which ought to be reason enough for you to end the practice, but I cannot see that Mrs. Rogers has much to do with it--we do not keep house for her benefit."

Elizabeth indulged in a silent meditation on the different tempers of siblings.

"Mr. Darcy," said Mr. Gardiner, after a moment, "my niece tells me that you went to the King's Theatre last week. How do you like the new opera?"

"Very well. Mozart always pleases my sister, and while I enjoy it for myself, it is chiefly for her sake that I go."

"She is musical, then?" inquired Mrs. Gardiner.

"Oh! Miss Darcy is the most musical young lady that may be!" cried Miss Bingley.

"I hope not," returned Mr. Darcy, "for she is very young, and will improve. She is, however, extremely fond of music, and I take her to see as many performances as I may. She resides at her school, but I endeavor to see her as much as possible when I am in town."

"I am sure she must enjoy that," said Mrs. Gardiner encouragingly.

"I hope she will always take pleasure in her family," replied Mr. Darcy coolly.

Mr. Gardiner looked at his wife. Mr. Darcy was quite as proud as Elizabeth had made him out to be, it seemed. However, every man had his difficult subjects. He would make one more attempt. After a few moments, therefore, he made some inquiry as to Mr. Darcy's opinion on a new piece of legislation involving the wool trade. Mr. Darcy answered him readily, and the two gentlemen were soon deep in a conversation on the domestic manufacture of wool cloth.

Mrs. Gardiner and Lizzy gazed at each other in astonishment, but nothing was said for some time. Mr. Bingley and Jane were agreeably talking to each other, with some small contributions from the rest of the party; Miss Caroline excused herself to her room with a headache, and Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth were left to wonder. After some three quarters of an hour had passed, Mrs. Gardiner gently reminded her husband that their own dinner would be waiting, and their children as well.

"I beg your pardon, ladies," said Mr. Darcy instantly, and with all the animation departing from his manner, "we have been neglecting you, and I am sure you are wanting to get home." He hesitated a moment. "Mr. Gardiner, I wonder if I might trouble you to call later in the week. I am sure your ideas on the tariff are correct, and you have put them so sensibly that I have no doubt they would be of great use to a political friend of mine."

Mr. Gardiner, though surprised, placed himself quite at Mr. Darcy's disposal, and after many expressions of gratitude to Mr. Bingley, their party was soon safely in the coach. When the door had been closed upon them, Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner both began to express their wonder aloud.

"I thought, Lizzy, that you said he was very reserved."
"So he has been, Aunt. I have not seen him so open before--and you saw yourself what he was like at Mrs. Ellison's dance."

"And he was much the same way today, at first," remarked Mrs. Gardiner. "Perhaps there is nothing much the matter with him, Lizzy. Not all men can be as affable as Mr. Bingley. There is no necessary deficiency of character in reserve; perhaps it springs more from shyness than from pride. There was, at any rate, no pride in his behavior to Mr. Gardiner."

"I would not describe him as shy," said Jane calmly, "but Mr. Bingley says that he is very reserved. He is more open among his intimates--but he does not admit people to that inner circle at once. Surely there may even be something virtuous in weighing the character of his friends so carefully. His behavior at the dance was very rude, Lizzy, but I am sure he does not mean to offend. He is a very private man, and when that privacy is intruded upon he may sometimes be awkward. You saw how he behaved when my uncle asked after his sister--and then how much more open he was when my uncle spoke of more general matters."

"And it was very civil of him to ask me to call later in the week," added Mr. Gardiner. "I cannot think a proud man would have been so eager to recommend the thoughts of a man in business."

"Well, Lizzy, what say you to our evidence?" asked Mrs. Gardiner, laughing.

"Oh, if you could have heard him yesterday! My dear aunt, his sentiments! He goes to balls only to give pleasure to others you know--he is quite too sophisticated to take any himself."

"That does not sound very selfish," said Mrs. Gardiner, smiling.

"You mistake my meaning, Aunt," cried Elizabeth. "It is not a matter of selfishness, but of pride. He has so good an opinion of himself as to believe that he is the ornament of every dance, no matter what his behavior may be, and that his presence is enough to gratify every lady's vanity, without any attentions on his part."

"Come, Lizzy, I am sure he did not say that," protested Jane.

"Not those very words, indeed. But he is such a queer conundrum--how else can he justify his behavior? Why does he go to balls, if only to neglect young ladies?"

"Lizzy, you sound almost missish," observed Mrs. Gardiner, raising an eyebrow. "If you have nothing worse to allege against his character than that he does not like to dance, I am not sure we can put him down as a scoundrel."

"I assure you, Aunt, if you could have seen his manner as he spoke, you would be a great deal less sympathetic towards him. His perfect assurance I can never forget. He was almost angry with me for disagreeing with him, and for my failure to find him perfect in every particular. He has been spoiled by all the matchmaking mammas, I'll warrant."

"Many a man has been, and lived to tell the tale," said Mr. Gardiner with a wry smile. "You do not have to like him, Lizzy; he may not be at all to your taste. But perhaps you should reconsider whether he is so very proud as you thought at first."

Elizabeth sighed in resignation. "I shall promise to think on it, but only if you will give me a promise in return."

"What is that?"

"That you not," replied she with a grimace, "invite Mr. Darcy to dinner on a night when I am there."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Elizabeth could not help but think a good deal about Mr. Darcy that night. His manner to Mr. Gardiner had been that of a sensible man, though without an open temperament, but his behavior to her had been so proud, so reserved! Everything from his countenance to his disdaining to dance spoke a haughtiness, a contempt for those beneath what he most certainly perceived as his exalted social station. And yet his behavior to Mr. Gardiner!

She sighed as she owned to herself that a man might be unpleasant without being vicious. He seemed very kind to his sister, and willing to do his social duty, however irksome his pride might make it; and what she had overheard of his conversation with her uncle, his information on political matters, agriculture, production, and their interconnections, convinced her that he was a man of intelligence. In the end she could only conclude that his virtues forbade her contempt as strongly as his pride forbade any liking between them.

"And so I am left to hope," said she to Jane, when she had unraveled all this to her sister, "that we may see very little of him. He is not absurd enough to laugh at, and not pleasant enough to like, and therefore I shall expect no pleasure from his company."

Monday morning arrived, and took with it Elizabeth's obligation to think of Mr. Darcy in any way at all, for there was too much to be done in packing their trunks, and looking out for the Bennets' coach, to admit of much thought. The conveyances arrived in good time, and Elizabeth had just glimpsed them through the window when a great noise and confusion downstairs announced the family's arrival.

"Oh! My dear brother," came Mrs. Bennet's voice up the stairs. "Such an unpleasant journey! The roads nearly frozen, and I was quite afraid we would be overset."

"They were nothing of the kind, Mrs. Bennet, only a little muddy," said Mr. Bennet mildly, and then the door of the drawing room opened and the Bennets came flooding in.

"Lizzy! Jane! My dear girls! How blooming you look, Jane! Have you had a good time in London? I hope you have met some pleasant men. We shall have a great many parties, that your father and I may meet them all--oh my dear Mrs. Gardiner! So good of you to host the girls--I hear you have taken them out a good deal, and I am very glad of it. At their age they certainly ought to have a few pleasures, and they must meet men if they are to marry, you know. Jane looks very well; you have taken prodigious care of her. Oh, and here are the little ones! How do you do, my dears! How quickly they grow--I declare Thomas is full two inches taller since we saw him two weeks ago."

In the flow of Mrs. Bennet's eloquence very little could be heard, but she was convinced to go away and dress at last. The family party gathered for dinner, and as they had been two weeks apart and much had passed in that time, there was a great deal of news. Not all of it could be communicated at once, however, for Mrs. Bennet's great aim in life was to get her daughters married, and all that could tend toward that purpose must be her first concern in any conversation.

"Now, Mrs. Gardiner," said she, "You must tell me all about it. What dances and dinners have you been to, and who have my girls met with?"

"Upon my word, Mrs. Bennet! If I am to give you a full account, we shall be here half the night," replied Mrs. Gardiner lightly. "And I am sure the girls have given you accounts of their principal engagements in their letters."

"They have indeed, but," said Mrs. Bennet, winking, "they do not like to be too particular when it comes to mentioning the names of gentlemen. Well, they are very good girls, though if they were a little more forward they might have secured good husbands by now. Still, their fortunes will see to that, for as handsome as Jane is, I have no doubt all the men will fall in love with her now that she has a marriage portion."

"I am sure Jane's more substantial attractions, both of character and person, will serve her better," said Mrs. Gardiner. "But we may be glad that prudent motives need not now prevent any courtship which might otherwise go forward."

"Aye, quite right, sister, quite right," said Mrs. Bennet. "But you really must tell me with whom you have been associating. It would look most peculiar if I did not continue the acquaintance--but you must know I cannot call on them first, as I have never met them."

"I have no objection to telling you, though as the girls have made no secret of your impending arrival I have no doubt all their acquaintance will soon come to call. We dined at the Ellisons shortly after we arrived back in Town--you have heard me speak of them, sister, very good people--and the girls met several families there, with whom they have continued an acquaintance. There are Sir John and Lady Hartwick, Mrs. Ellison's daughter and son-in-law; you are all bid to their dance on Wednesday, which is to be a very large affair, so I warn you."

"Oh! I am sure we are quite equal to a large dance. Is he a knight?"

"No, a baronet. He inherited large property in the Ellisons' neighborhood, where he met their daughter."

"Indeed? How grand!" cried Mrs. Bennet, her eyes sparkling avariciously. "I am sure I have never met a baronet before! And now we shall go to his party. What a fine thing it is to have five girls with fortunes. We are quite come up in the world. Well, and who else was there?"

"Sir Henry and Lady Harrington with their son and daughter."

"And what sort of people are they?"

"I have told you of them before, sister; their estate is in Lincolnshire. Sir Henry is also a baronet, and they have an income of eight or nine thousands a year."

"The Ellisons keep very grand company, do they not? And yet they do not seem at all proud people, to invite the daughters of a country squire. Still, there is dignity in wealth, you know. And who else?"

Mrs. Gardiner swallowed her objections to this speech and proceeded. "There was a Mr. Bingley, with whom Mr. Gardiner and I had not been acquainted before; he is from a respectable family in the north of the country, has five or six thousand a year, and two sisters, with twenty thousand each."

"Rather a pauper, compared to his friends."

Mrs. Gardiner smiled wanly. "And then there is someone else with whom you claim a prior acquaintance: Mr. Reynolds, who taught the girls to draw some years ago, and we have met his sister since then. She is just come from school."

"Oh! Yes, I recall Mr. Reynolds. A very pretty-behaved young man; I have no objection to him. I hope none of my girls has taken a fancy to him, however; I am sure, you know, sister, that they can do a great deal better than an artist."

"I have no reason to believe any such attachment formed. However, I hope that you would be pleased to see any of my nieces settled with a respectable man, and enough of an income between them to live in comfort on."

"Oh! As to that, certainly; however, a thousand pounds is a tolerably narrow income, and when they can do so much better! And then if they should have a large family, a thousand would not be very much to live upon. I do not think any of them ought to marry Mr. Reynolds."

"I am no more eager for it than you are, I assure you--though his painting does bring him in a thousand or two a year, sister; I would not have you in error."

This satisfied Mrs. Bennet, and the conversation soon turned on other matters: past and projected plays, parties, and evening entertainments.

When the ladies moved, Elizabeth sought out Mary.

"Well, sister, I have some news that I think will please you," she began. "I am sure you remember Mr. Reynolds."

"Oh! Certainly," cried she, with a start and a little color. Elizabeth laughed.

"I am sure you were half in love with him at the time--but enough years have intervened, that I shall not tease you for it now. I have something more to the purpose to say on the subject. He was at dinner with the Ellisons, and we spoke of you. He remembers your talent, and says that though he teaches very little now, he would be pleased to instruct you again."

"Can you mean it?" cried Mary, with so much warmth that the whole room turned to look, and when Elizabeth answered in the affirmative, Mary ran at once to their mother. "Mama! Lizzy says that she has seen Mr. Reynolds, and he will give me instruction! We must speak to Papa at once. Oh! I have not been so happy in an age. I may have instruction, may I not, Mama?" she demanded eagerly.

"Certainly, my dear," replied Mrs. Bennet calmly. "Your drawings are very beautiful, to be sure; and they must be good to catch the eye of a rich man in London, with all of fashionable society to choose from. I shall speak to your Papa directly. It would be best if you began your lessons this week."

With that task accomplished, Elizabeth considered asking her mother to speak to Mr. Bennet about a new maid, but decided against it. Her request would fare better if she placed it herself.

Kitty and Lydia were very pleased to be in London, and though Kitty was fatigued from the journey, Lydia was boisterous in her excitement at the thought of entertainments to come.

"A baronet's ball on Wednesday! What a thing! I am sure it will be the grandest I have ever attended. Not but what I mean to attend a great many," she added, tossing her head.

"You attend?" cried Lizzy, surprised. "My dear sister, you cannot mean it."

Lydia did not reply, but her look was very determined.

"Mama, you will not allow her to go?" pleaded Elizabeth, somewhat alarmed. "She is not fifteen!"

"Lydia, my love, you are young yet for balls," admitted their mother. "A family dinner, certainly, but you are too young to take out in company. Wait a few years, my dear. There is little point in going to a ball anyway until you bloom. I am sure that will be coming soon. If you went now, all the men would laugh at you."

"I am sure they would not! I would look at them from under my lashes--so," cried Lydia, displaying a look she had practiced diligently in her glass.

"Lydia!" scolded Lizzy and Mrs. Gardiner together, and even the mild Jane was moved to reproof.

"Lydia, you must not behave so when there are men by, or they will think the very worst of you."

"I do not care what they think!" cried Lydia.

"Even if they think you a hoyden, or a flirt?" asked Lizzy.

"I care for no man's opinion," she said proudly.

"Then you are certainly not old enough to attend a ball."

"Mama!" Lydia pouted.

"Your sister is right, my dear, you really are too young," said Mrs. Bennet fussily. "But there, Cook will make you a plate of sweets and I shall buy you a new novel to read, so that you are not dull while we are gone."

"May I have a cup of chocolate, too?"

"Certainly you may, and I shall buy some on purpose in Bond Street."

"What about me, Mama?" asked Kitty fretfully.

"Oh, you can read over Lydia's shoulder, or you can take it in turns to read aloud," said Mrs. Bennet dismissively.

"And may I have chocolate too?"

"Certainly not, Kitty; it would overset your delicate constitution," returned Mrs. Bennet irritably. "You may have a little water and wine, as you always do."

Kitty frowned. "Why should she have such a treat, Mama, when I have none?"

"Oh, very well, I will speak to Cook, and she will make two plates of sweets. But you are not to have chocolate; it is too heating."

"Very well," Kitty sulked.

Jane and Elizabeth exchanged a glance.

"Come, girls," said Mrs. Gardiner in a low voice. "You were not much better yourselves, when you were very young."

"Pray, aunt, how young exactly?" asked Lizzy, in a half mocking, half anxious tone.

"A little younger than that," owned Mrs. Gardiner with a sigh. "What think you of Miss Grey's influence?"

"I am sure Kitty frets less than she used to do, and Lydia is a little less wild. Mary is a creature transformed, however. She has left off her plain frocks and her sermons and devotes herself to her drawing," said Jane.

"Well, that is something gained."

"I am sure Miss Grey would do more for Lydia," said Lizzy, "if her authority were not constantly contradicted by Mama. She is taken so much from the schoolroom that it improves her very little--though her absence may improve Kitty."

"Well, we will introduce Kitty to Lady Hartwick," said Mrs. Gardiner. "She is fourteen now, is she not? And Lady Hartwick only nineteen. Five years may make a deal of difference at that age, but perhaps being in such elegant company, and without Lydia, may do something for her."

"And occupying my mother's time might do yet more," mused Elizabeth. "Well, it is the Season, and London is full of young ladies who mean to be married, and paid companions who will soon be out of a place. Perhaps the kindest thing we could do for Kitty, or Lydia either, is to engage some one of them for Mama."

Mrs. Gardiner shook her head. "That it should come to that! But there, I shall not be harsh. Mrs. Bennet is a good woman, and cares very much for her family in her own way--and then I may find time hang heavily on my hands, when my own children are grown." She did not look very convinced, but Elizabeth was grateful for the attempt.

When the Bennets left the Gardiners' after dinner, they went at once to Sloane Street. The carriages and their luggage had gone on there while they were in Gracechurch Street, and the house had been mostly put to rights before they arrived. Jane and Elizabeth expected their mother would want their assistance, but they slipped briefly away to show their father to the study. He found the crate of books upon the desk, and his pleasure was immediately evident.

"Well, well, girls--a very adequate bribe for so great a sacrifice as London, very adequate. It was kindly thought of you," he said genially, and kissed them.

"I must go to my mother--but I believe Lizzy wants to speak with you," said Jane.

"Oh? Is there a matter of some seriousness?" he inquired, looking from one to the other of his girls.

"Oh, of the utmost gravity--it concerns those powdered footmen," laughed Elizabeth, as Jane went out.

"Well, and what is it?" asked he good-humoredly, settling himself in the unfamiliar chair.

"I am come to ask you to hire another maid. Two might even be advisable. You see, I am very extravagant!"

"It is not so bad as a footman. But what is the reason for this request?"

"Nothing more important than the indulgence of my favorite exercise, I fear. At home it is not remarked upon for us to walk out alone, but here it is impossible. I have missed my walks while we were at the Gardiners!"

"And are we to have a maid solely to walk with you? She must be a very energetic young person. I had thought Mrs. Gardiner walked enough for your needs. But in truth, my dear," he added, looking at her very hard, "You have a great deal of nervous energy about you. Are you quite well?"

"I am well enough, Papa," said she, walking to the window and looking out. "Only I have never been so circumstanced before when in Gracechurch Street. Mrs. Gardiner usually takes her exercise in the square garden, and comes to Kensington Gardens on Sundays after service. That has always been enough for me before. But we have never been so much in company before, and I have had so much to think over, that I suppose I am wanting more solitude than usual."

"Indeed!" said he, surprised. "Why, has anything happened?"

"I think that Jane has half fallen in love," said she turning round and smiling. "But that was always to be expected--her affectionate heart was made for domestic attachment."

Mr. Bennet received the information without much surprise, though he looked inclined to be a little sentimental. "And what is the lucky fellow's name?"

"Mr. Bingley. He is amiable, wealthy, and as reasonable as a man in love can be expected to be. I think you will like him."

"I see. And this has given you a great deal to ponder? Well, well, it is a great deal to lose a sister to marriage."

"I do not mean that, Papa. But in a wider circle of company, there must be something more than usual to vex."

"I am surprised at you, Lizzy--you, who always took human folly as fodder for amusement. I thought you quite took after myself."

"In reasonable doses, sir! There are those among our acquaintance now of whom ten minutes would be the moderate dose for a strong man, and I have been confined with them for an entire day! What do you think of my fortitude now?" she laughed, perching on his desk.

"Very good, Lizzy, very good, you progress apace. But you must keep your spirits up, and not everybody can sit in a library when seeking solitude. Very well, I shall instruct your mother to engage an extra maid--someone with youthful energy and an excellent constitution, I think," he added, smiling. "But why do you think two would be advisable?"

"I think," she said carefully, "that my mother might require one more maid about the house--and under such circumstances it might be difficult for her to spare a servant for myself."

Mr. Bennet smiled. "Ah, child, your mother's follies! No doubt she will be wanting a girl for the sole employment of trimming gowns! Well. I have come all the way to London from Longbourn in order to be indulgent, and I shall not turn back now. I shall instruct your mother to hire two maids, one of whom is to be reserved to you and Jane. As you are the only two who are out much in company, that will be reasonable enough, and I do not think she will make any objections. Will that do?"

Elizabeth expressed her gratitude warmly and Mr. Bennet, with affectionate smiles, dismissed his favorite daughter and turned to unpack his books.

The rest of the day was given over almost entirely to the hustle and bustle of unpacking; the opening of trunks and parcels, and directing the unfamiliar servants as to how the house was to be kept. The next morning there was, however, some doubt as to how they ought to proceed. As the family gathered around the breakfast table, they faced a dilemma. Jane was expecting Mr. Harrington, who called for the express purpose of meeting her mother and father; yet they must certainly go out and leave their calling cards at the house of their acquaintance.

"I wonder he should not think of it--it is very strange," said Mrs. Bennet, though she never thought much of the convenience of other people herself.

"I think, Mama, that he may belong to that class of people, who often send an empty carriage round, and a footman to take in the cards," remarked Jane.

"Two footmen generally--with powdered wigs," said Lizzy, winking at her father and older sister.

"And always very tall," he replied gravely.

"I do not see what that has to do with it," said Mrs. Bennet, who did not understand this at all. "But we have only Thomas for footman--I am sure it was very disagreeable of your father to hire no more--but, however, we are here; the house is very handsome, and elegantly fitted up, and it is certainly very well to be out of the way of the noise and bustle--it quite wears on my nerves. And yet so close to everything! Yes, my dears, you all owe your father quite a debt of gratitude, quite a debt. But we must find some way to reconcile our visits, for however much fine ladies may send a closed carriage about, I am sure our acquaintance would think it very odd."

The dilemma was discussed until the close of breakfast, when Mr. Harrington made it quite unnecessary, by calling at the earliest possible hour with his sister.

Elizabeth was in some agitation of spirits, wondering what her mother might do, and how she might act, when presented with the children of a baronet, but she behaved tolerably well. She was extremely effusive, to be sure, and gave Mr. Harrington and Jane a great many knowing looks, but she seemed to feel that she did not know him well enough yet, to be giving him any hints. The invitation to ride was readily accepted and fixed for Wednesday, with only the provision that Jane was to ride a rented animal: "For we are very well capable of hiring horses ourselves, sir; you need not trouble about that--you must know the girls are quite heiresses, and any such little expenses must be no trouble."

Jane and Elizabeth winced, and Miss Harrington looked as though her astonishment might even give her energy for speech, but Mr. Harrington kindly did not hear, and the two young people sat with them a quarter of an hour before going away again.

The Miss Bennets then immediately put on their bonnets and went out to call upon all Mrs. Bennet's old acquaintance. It was a long morning, but very productive of entertainment, for above half of Mrs. Bennet's friends were as silly as herself, and they gabbled together like old hens. If Elizabeth had not had her fill of human folly yet for the day, she had it now.

They returned to dress for dinner and found, to their great pleasure, that they had had another caller. Mr. Bingley's card was upon the table in the hall. The expression upon Jane's face when she perceived it served to remove any remaining doubts Elizabeth might have had as to which of her two suitors Jane preferred.

After dinner that evening the whole party were to go out to the Drury Lane Theatre, for Mrs. Bennet was too eager to experience the delights of London to stay long at home, and Mr. Bennet was too wise to desire an evening exposed to the vagaries of her agitations. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were to have the adjoining box. "For it was the girls' own idea, Edward, and I wish to encourage it," said Mrs. Gardiner to her husband. "They have mentioned their plan to their various friends, and it is a very eligible solution to the difficulty of introducing their parents to the new acquaintance they have made. I am fond of Fanny, but you know that she can sometimes say a wrong thing, and perhaps I feel it will be easier if we are there--we may perhaps make the introductions, and smooth over any little error."

Mr. Gardiner could only agree, and to the theatre they all went.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Mrs. Gardiner was proved wise by the event, for the girls had indeed mentioned the play to their new acquaintance, and nearly all of them had been so obliging as to attend the theatre that night. Sir Henry and Lady Harrington were eager to meet the family of the Miss Bennets, and the Bingleys scarcely less so. Elizabeth was less pleased to see Mr. Darcy in the Bingleys' large box, but unsurprised to see the genial Mrs. Ellison with her young guest.

"If I were hosting Miss Reynolds, I am sure I should find every possible evening occupation," whispered she to Jane. "Anything must be preferable to a tete-a-tete."

The Bennets had just settled themselves between their box and the Gardiners' when Mr. Bingley arrived to be introduced, with his sisters close behind him.

"Jane, my dear," said Miss Caroline, taking her aside, "I have the loveliest news to tell you. What do you think? Mr. Hurst has asked Louisa to be his wife, and she has accepted him."

Jane expressed her happiness very warmly, and Miss Caroline seemed pleased. "Charles is giving a ball on Saturday--he has brought an invitation for your parents, but I just wanted to give you a hint. The engagement will be announced then, and I do hope you can attend."

"I can answer for it that there will be no difficulty there. We are not yet engaged for Saturday night," replied Jane.

"Delightful! Then we have really nothing more to look forward to," said Miss Caroline, looking pleased. "But I feel I have not seen you this age."

"Yes, I fear we have been rather occupied by our removal to Sloane Street. We are settled in now, however, and hope to see our friends there."

"Oh, but of course! How could I forget! Well, we will come and call upon you there tomorrow, and you must come riding with us on Thursday, and then we can have a pleasant chat. What is the number of the house?"

Jane told her, and mentioned that Mr. Bingley would also be in possession of the information, as he had called the previous day.

"Did he? I did not know; indeed it was very unkind of him not to tell me, for to be sure I would have joined him," she said, directing a rapid look at her brother, who was talking with Mr. Bennet. "Well. Mrs. Bennet," she continued, addressing that lady, "I was just saying to Jane that Charles was very unkind not to tell me he was calling yesterday, or I certainly would have joined him."

"It makes very little matter," said Mrs. Bennet, smiling graciously, "for we were not at home; we were out leaving our arrival cards."

"Oh! but of course," Miss Caroline replied. "I did not know that you had many acquaintance in London, my dear," she added, turning back to Jane.

"I have not very many, but my mother has."

"To be sure, Miss Caroline, I have a very large acquaintance in London," cried Mrs. Bennet happily. "Why, five or six of the girls I grew up with married London men. Two married solicitors, and one a barrister; Mrs. Phelps is a doctor's wife, and Mrs. Ross married a merchant. We did not call on Mrs. Cole, for she married a shopkeeper, and not even a gentleman's son! Very shocking it all was, and all Meryton was out of countenance with her at the time. But however, we have a great deal of agreeable acquaintance here."

Miss Caroline would make no answer to this speech, or to this list of acquaintance, but she perceived rather too late that the genteel behavior of the eldest two Miss Bennets did not necessitate elegance on the part of the rest of their family. Her brother held in his hand the fatal sheet of paper, which was to invite the whole family, and she turned from Mrs. Bennet in an attempt to invent some excuse for delaying it, that the names might be altered, but it was too late. Mr. Bingley had already given it to Mr. Bennet, and that gentleman was accepting it, with an amused look and a rapid glance at his eldest daughter.

There was now a little commotion in the next box, where Lydia and Kitty were sitting with the Gardiners and Miss Grey.

"Girls, what is the trouble?" inquired Mr. Bennet levelly.

"Lydia wants to sit forward in the box, but I had the seat first! and she can see perfectly well where she is," cried Kitty petulantly.

"Lord, Kitty, who wants to see! I have got my new figured muslin on, and I want to be seen. Do not I look well, Mama? Much better than Kitty."

Miss Grey, embarrassed at the appeal to Mr. Bennet, now interfered in their quarrel with greater asperity, and both girls were forced to remain where they were without much further noise from Lydia, and only a few triumphant smiles from Kitty.

Mr. Bennet observed the surprise on the Bingleys' faces, and was amused by it. "Well, Miss Bingley, and what do you think of my younger daughters?" asked he jovially. "They are foolish enough to draw some notice even in London, I see. That is some distinction."

Elizabeth, glancing up, met Mr. Darcy's eye and flushed crimson. Miss Caroline now made some small excuse, and the Bingley party returned to their own box. Elizabeth leaned back in her seat, deeply mortified. After some few moments, Mr. Bennet, observing her, leaned over and spoke quietly.

"Do not let your sisters embarrass you, Elizabeth. They are badly behaved, certainly, but they are very young, and we must hope they will grow out of it."

"My hopes for the future can hardly soften my present distress," whispered Elizabeth, with some attempt at wry humor.

"Come now, my dear. Their foolishness, and their mother's, cannot reflect on you and Jane."

Elizabeth could only think otherwise, but she smiled, however unwillingly, at her father, and endeavored to pay attention to the entertainments going forward. At the interval Mr. Harrington appeared with his parents and introductions were made. Elizabeth took careful part in the conversation, and though neither Sir Henry nor Lady Harrington were at all pleased by the manners of the mother, the father they deemed genteel enough.

They had hardly gone when Mrs. Ellison bustled up. "These must be your mother and father, my dears--delighted, delighted! You have such lovely daughters, Mrs. Bennet. And three more, I see! How charming they look. Such a lovely thing, to have a large family. I always wished I had more sisters myself. And so you are just come to London? Well, I hope you will enjoy it, and stay a great while. This is Miss Reynolds--I understand you knew her brother in Hertfordshire?"

"Yes, he was the girls' drawing-master," said Mrs. Bennet, "and a very pretty-behaved young man. He has achieved a great deal since then, I understand."

"Oh! certainly," said Miss Reynolds, before Mrs. Ellison could speak. "He is certainly one of the best painters London has ever seen, and everybody talks of his work."

"Indeed!" said Mrs. Bennet. "I am sure that must be very gratifying. And how does he prosper?"

"He has a workshop, Mama," put in Elizabeth quickly, "where he and his apprentices make a great number of paintings, and he is enabled thereby to support himself in comfort."

"In elegance, Miss Elizabeth," corrected Miss Reynolds comfortably, "for it is not less than two thousand pounds my brother brought in last year, in addition to the expenses of the shop, and if the Duke of ---- is half as handsome as he promised about his new commission, it will certainly be three thousand this year."

"That is very well, very well indeed," replied Mrs. Bennet calculatingly. "He is to give instruction to Mary, you know. We have spoken to Mr. Bennet about it--Mr. Reynolds says he does not teach as a rule, but Miss Mary has such great talent--we are very pleased that he thinks her worth his time, I am sure. It is a very great compliment."

"Oh! Is this Miss Mary, then?" asked Miss Reynolds, fastening upon her.

"That is my name," said Mary a little uncertainly.

"Oh, my dear, if you could only hear how my brother gushes about your talent! Such an eye, he says! He is quite wild to see you again. Such handsome lace you have--and yours, Mrs. Bennet, I have really never seen anything like! Well. I understand he comes to you tomorrow?"

"Yes; he has been kind enough to promise to call every morning. I hope I do not injure his work, but as I shall only be in town the few short weeks of the season, it seems advisable to have lessons daily. I wish to make the most of my opportunity," said Mary, seeming pleased with her new acquaintance.

"I wish I could be there to watch! Oh! my dear, if you could only hear the things he says about your painting!"

"If it would give you such great pleasure, my dear, I think there can be no objection to your accompanying him," said Mrs. Bennet, greatly flattered. Mary was happy to agree, and Miss Reynolds all gratitude, until the resumption of the play returned them all to their boxes.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Posted on 2014-04-07

The Wednesday morning passed as planned. Jane rode out early with the Harringtons, and came back pleased with the exercise and her companions. After breakfast Mr. Reynolds arrived with his sister in a very smart gig, and the lesson commenced. Elizabeth and Jane had other concerns and other projects, not the least of which was expecting the Bingleys' call on Jane's part, and hoping that Mr. Darcy would not join them on Elizabeth's.

Kitty and Lydia, however, had very little else to do but their lessons, and eager to postpone those, they were soon hanging about Mr. Reynolds and Mary, watching her brush-strokes and his countenance, and discussing both in whispers and giggles. Miss Reynolds was soon whispering with them, and not long after drew them away to the window, whence Elizabeth and Jane caught occasional snatches of "Sir so-and-so" and "My lady somebody," and giggles from the younger girls.

Miss Grey allowed this leisure for some quarter of an hour, but at the end of it she asserted her authority, and directed the young ladies to return to the school-room and their lessons, intending to leave the supervision of Mary and Mr. Reynolds to Mrs. Bennet and the older two girls. Miss Grey had, indeed, wanted Mr. Reynolds to deliver his instruction in the schoolroom so that she might better attend to her charges, but Mrs. Bennet had been indignant. "So great an artist! I think not, Miss Grey. He had better come into the morning room. After all, two thousand a year...it is not riches, to be sure, but it is not so very bad--and then Mary is rather plain, and had better marry an artistic sort of fellow, or a clergyman. Yes, we shall certainly have him into the morning room."

Lydia, however, would not be forced to leave during so interesting a visit. "I have already got through almost all my lessons, Mama, indeed I have--they can easily be finished after Mary's lesson--and Miss Reynolds was telling me something very interesting, about the spring fashions!" Mrs. Bennet could never refuse her favorite, and though Miss Grey's protestations were heard calmly, Lydia was allowed to remain and whisper with Miss Reynolds for the duration of Mary's lesson.

When this was completed, Mrs. Bennet civilly admired the work that had been done, and equally civilly invited Mr. Reynolds and his sister to stay the rest of the morning and dine with the family. Mr. Reynolds looked pleased, and his sister more so, but they regretfully owned a prior engagement. He would, however, if Mrs. Bennet would give him leave, be delighted to accept on another occasion. The invitation was then re-issued for the next day and accepted, and the brother and sister sat with them another half hour, before taking their departure. Mrs. Bennet soon left the room as well in order to talk to Hill about preparations for the evening, and Mary having returned to the schoolroom, Elizabeth and Jane were left alone.

"Well, Jane, and what do you think now, of Mr. Reynolds being a suitor of mine?"

"He did not act very much like one, certainly, for he took no particular notice of you, though he easily might have. I am glad of it, as you do not like him. Perhaps we were merely under a misapprehension."

"Perhaps," said Elizabeth, smiling. "I did my best to discourage him on Friday, however, and we have not seen him since then. I think it more likely that he took my hint."

"I hope he was not very much disappointed," said Jane sympathetically, sighing over her needlwork.

"By his attentiveness to Mary, not very much so," replied Elizabeth teasingly.

"Lizzy! You cannot think him attached to her! He has only just seen her today."

"Not attached, no. But he seemed very much struck with her talent even before he saw her, and paid her a good deal of attention today after the lesson, as well as during it. I think Mamma may have noticed something, too, for she would not hear of Mary returning to the school-room until they had gone."

"You cannot be wishing him to be in love with her, certainly, if he was so recently attached to you," remonstrated Jane.

"Dear Jane! How you always suppose the best of everybody." Elizabeth laughed. "I do not imagine him to be in love with her any more than I imagined him to be in love with me. A slight preference I think there may have been, probably more for my fortune than my face. Finding me unwilling, I believe he has transferred his attentions to Mary, who has an equal fortune and a better liking for him. It is reasonably done and I shall not quarrel with him."

"Lizzy, be serious! You cannot imagine him to be so mercenary."

"Not quite so mercenary as that," admitted Elizabeth, returning to seriousness. "But, however, I do think there was some little preference, readily conceived and readily given over, and that he was very struck with the change in Mary's appearance--he mentioned several times her having grown so tall--and that, in short, he is in a fair way to fall in love with her instead, and that his prudence will sanction his heart in such a course."

The rest of the day must now be given over to preparations for Lady Hartwick's ball, which was to be a very grand affair, much too grand for the small name of "dance." Her mother's rooms might be elegant, but hers were fine, and all the most elaborate apartments were to be thrown open in their state of greatest splendor, to proclaim to all the world that Sir John had done very well in his selection of a wife. To Lady Hartwick's mild temper the arrangements had been something of a trial, but she had persevered steadily, and with the assistance of the Dowager Lady Hartwick and an excellent housekeeper, all was in readiness in time.

The Bennets prepared eagerly for the ball. Mr. Bennet had consented at last to accompany them, though maintaining that he should not go up until the moment he retired to dress. Elizabeth found herself looking forward to the evening with some agitation. She was inured to her mother's behavior in Hertfordshire; Mrs. Bennet's silliness and frequent vulgarity could not surprise their old acquaintance. Here, however, the public embarrassment she might subject them all to was felt with all the pain of fresh shock, as acquaintance whose respect and liking they had earned over the past fortnight might be rapidly sacrificed. She had herself nothing to fear from anyone in particular, although she did find herself dreading the further scorn of the disagreeable Mr. Darcy, but she feared for Jane.

The event was not quite so bad as her fears had prophesied. The three older girls set out with their parents in due time to Brunswick Street, but there was such a crush as must allay some of even Elizabeth's fears, for their mother could not offend those whom she could not reach. The rooms, though lofty and splendid, were hot and noisy, and it was only with great care that they were enabled to make their way through the entry and into the rooms beyond without tearing their dresses. They gained the ballroom, and here the crowd lessened a little, and they were able to see the dancers. In such a press searching for their own acquaintance was impossible, and Elizabeth resigned herself to an unpleasant evening of noise and heat, and centered all her ambition upon finding a chair. She was surprised at Lady Hartwick's arranging so unpleasant an evening, and said something of it to Jane.

"I have no doubt," said Jane, "that the poor woman has very little choice in the matter. This is her great debut as Lady Hartwick, you know, and she must put on a good display in order to please society. You and I may discriminate a little more--and I have no doubt she will give a good many dinners and dances throughout the rest of the season, which will satisfy even your nice taste for good company, Lizzy."

The ladies were now enabled to find some seats together, and sat for a quarter of an hour without seeing anybody that they knew. Mrs. Bennet was sufficiently amused by observing the fashions and faces of the ladies, and the handsomeness of the men. Jane occupied herself in pretending not to watch for Mr. Bingley, and Mary, exposed for the first time to so much grandeur, merely looked all about her, and wondered. Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet, however, placed behind the other three, were very miserable; fond of lively conversation or private reflection, they were ill-suited to the little nothings which must be half-shouted above the noise of a crowd, and ended by talking only to each other.

"Well, Lizzy, what do you say to Town now?" asked he, with a wry smile. "A great deal of benefit, is it not, all your great acquaintance?"

"Indeed, sir, you are mistaken, if you believe I ever sought great acquaintance!" protested Elizabeth. "I like Lady Hartwick, however; she is a very good sort of woman."

"You will see very little of her here."

"I see that now, sir," replied Elizabeth, with some chagrin, "but we could hardly have refused without disappointing her."

"Yes, London is a fine scene," said he, with good-humored misanthropy, "we go, for the pleasure of others, to dances which we do not enjoy, and give dances ourselves for the pleasure of others, who do not enjoy them."

"So long as I may give pleasure by my presence, I suppose I may consider the evening not entirely wasted, but I shall certainly avoid a crush again, if I may," said Elizabeth, thinking as she did so of Mr. Darcy. She was sufficiently unhappy in having a crush forced upon her for one evening of a season in Town. That he could spend his life in going to such parties and balls, wherein he took no pleasure but that of thinking well of himself, and gave less pleasure than he supposed, was incomprehensible to her lively mind. As these thoughts occurred to her she looked up and saw their subject instantly before her. He gave a minimal, but proper greeting to her family before turning to herself.

"I see before me, Miss Elizabeth, an opportunity to atone for my past offences in dancing with you for the two next, if you will favor me."

Elizabeth's temper flared at the presumption of his manner, but she only smiled. "I will not trouble you for the amends, Mr. Darcy, for I am accustomed to dance only with gentlemen who are fond of the amusement."

He seemed surprised, and answered a little uncertainly, "I dislike it only when my partner is unknown to me, Miss Bennet, and as that is not the case here, you need not refuse upon my account. Will you do me the honor?"

She considered for a brief space. She would very much rather not dance with Mr. Darcy, but she felt that it would be less unpleasant than the remarks that would be inevitably excited by the particularity of refusing him, or than resigning herself to an evening of sitting down at a ball. She made him, therefore, a curt acceptance, in reply to which he merely bowed and walked away.

"Well!" said Mrs. Bennet, who had observed both parties, although she had heard very little of what passed between them. "A very handsome man, certainly. Did Mrs. Gardiner mention him in her accounting?"

Elizabeth was too angry with the gentleman, and too vexed at the prospect of their forthcoming dance, to answer, and Jane, seeing her sister's distress, came to her aid, in replying to all their mother's inquiries. To Elizabeth's dismay she succeeded only in satisfying Mrs. Bennet that Mr. Darcy would be a very eligible suitor for her second daughter. Mr. Bingley was not far behind Mr. Darcy, and soon secured Jane's hand for the next two. More amiable than his friend, he remained with the ladies until the promised dances could be claimed, endearing himself to the whole party by amiable conversation, and to Elizabeth particularly, by pretending not to hear, whenever her mother said anything vulgar.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Mr. Darcy came to collect Elizabeth's hand, and lead her onto the dance floor, at the appropriate time. She was not mollified in the least by his timely appearance, and was sufficiently angry with him to speak very little. She regretted that her Aunt Gardiner had not been by to hear Mr. Darcy's tone and observe his manner in that exchange! But she had no more evidence of his pride to relate, than that he had twice been rude to her, once in not asking her to dance, and once in doing so, and that on both occasions he had shown a very good opinion of himself, and a poor one of the company present, with which she could not at all agree. She recollected herself after a few moments however, and refusing to allow her evening to be spoilt by the unpleasantness of so proud a man, laughed at herself for ever worrying over him, and gave a little shake of her head.

"You are amused, Miss Bennet?" inquired he, gravely.

"I am, Mr. Darcy. It is my purpose in going to a ball--though I know you derive no pleasure from attending."

"I did not say so."

"You seek none, however."

"It does not therefore follow that I may not find it," he said gallantly, with a smile in her direction.

Elizabeth was surprised into silence, and he instantly resumed his cold demeanor.

"It is certainly a fine ball. Lady Hartfield has done very well," he said calmly, in his more usual tones.

"It is very fashionable, certainly."

"You do not approve of fashion?" asked he, catching something in her tone.

"I do not dislike it--but I cannot consider it a great end, nor one that justifies very much. I mean no slight to Lady Hartfield, however," she added, recollecting herself. "Little as I know of such matters, it is clear to me that she has done just what she ought to do, and that it is a very proper ball; and I hope all those invited will be civil enough to think so."

He was thoughtful for several moments. "Certainly," said he, "fashion as an end in itself may be abused. Many unkind, and even cruel things have been done in its name. And yet to take one's tone of thought from those best informed upon any subject, or to attend to the social inventions of those most elegant and refined, can hardly be an evil."

"If fashion were that, I should have no hesitation in praising it," said Elizabeth eagerly. "But think how often the tone of thought is set not by those who are best informed, but by those who speak the loudest, or with the most decision; recall how many social inventions owe their origin not to practicality, elegance or refinement, but to mere novelty, and reflect upon what proportion the good in fashion must bear to the ridiculous, or to the cruel, and I am sure you will feel all my ambivalence towards it."

"Yet to remain in one way of thought, or way of life--to have no alteration or development! as often happens in unfashionable places or sets of society."

"That must depend very much upon the subject. I cannot think the morals of the present day are much improved by the developments of the fashionable set," said Elizabeth, smiling.

"Morals can want very little development," agreed he, waving a hand deprecatingly. "But knowledge must advance, and it is surely the part of those with wisdom to follow it. To retain the thoughts and ideas of a generation ago--to remain willfully in ignorance of modern agricultural methods, for example, would be as absurd as to retain the clothing of our ancestors. And then it would be so intolerable to a lively mind, only to be going over such old ground as it had often traversed. I am sure your intellect could not bear it--you could not be without a supply of new books from fashionable London."

Elizabeth was startled into confusion by this compliment, and could only make some remark on the excellence of her father's library, and on his keeping up with new literature tolerably well. Mr. Darcy, seeming to feel that he had said too much, was silent through the end of their two dances, and returned her to her party almost without another word.

Elizabeth sank onto her chair in no very pleasant state of mind. Mr. Darcy was quite inexplicable. He certainly felt that he did her a great favor in dancing with her--seemed to feel his superiority most acutely. And yet he had almost said that their dance was a pleasure to him. He had a very strange way of taking his pleasures! As Mr. Bingley returned Jane to their party, however, Elizabeth resolved to banish Mr. Darcy from her mind.

Had she been able to banish him as easily from the room, the remainder of the evening would have passed with more tranquility. Though he did not join their party, as Mr. Bingley did, he positioned himself against one of the pillars in the large ballroom, and she felt his eyes upon her often. When she looked his way, his countenance was forbiddingly haughty, or else merely cold. She could not think that he liked her--and yet that he could stare at her because he disliked her, seemed almost stranger. She even considered asking her father to return from the card-room, whither that gentleman had repaired while she was dancing, in an effort to frighten Mr. Darcy away, but reluctant to do anything that might draw attention to herself, determined against it.

In so large a crowd of persons principally unknown to her, Elizabeth must spend a good deal of the evening sitting down, but in Mr. Bingley's attentions to Jane she took a great deal of pleasure. He had early secured Miss Bennet's supper dance, and seemed half to wish to stay by her side through the rest of the evening, even if propriety forbade him engaging her for a third set. The strength of his wish to recommend himself to her and her family must be displayed by his remaining with their party even when some other gentleman took Jane to the dance floor, as happened frequently enough, and twice in the case of Mr. Harrington, who seemed determined to miss no opportunity to attach Miss Bennet. Mr. Bingley, naturally more amiable, and accidentally more clever, than his rival, danced with Jane's sisters when he could not dance with herself, and thus recommended himself to her whole party, instead of the lady alone. He even asked Mrs. Bennet to dance, and though the lady only laughed at him, Elizabeth knew it had gained him a permanent place in her mother's affections. She was glad enough of that, for Mrs. Bennet seemed otherwise disposed to favor Mr. Harrington's suit.

"Lady Harrington! How well it sounds," she said to Elizabeth, as Jane was dancing with him. Mr. Darcy, who had been stalking past them, scowled involuntarily, and Elizabeth flushed with mortification.

"Mama! People will hear," murmured Elizabeth.

"And what if they do, my dear? You are all very handsome girls, and with a handsome fortune; I am sure you have a right to be Lady somebody-or-other."

"It cannot help us to it very much, if people hear you say so."

"Then they would be very contradictory, and I have no opinion of them."

Elizabeth gave up in despair, and was very glad to be rescued by Mr. George Ellison a few moments later, and taken to the floor to dance, at no higher price than a quarter of an hour's conversation upon the subject of toothpick-boxes.

When she returned she found that their party had been joined by Mr. Reynolds, who danced with Mary at once, secured her hand for the supper set, and attached himself to the Bennets for most of the intervening period, making pleasant conversation, and talking of Art. Mary was flattered at thus receiving in an evening more attention from one gentleman than she had done in the whole course of her life before, and Mrs. Bennet was very pleased to have two of her daughters so well attended. Elizabeth, eyeing Mr. Darcy balefully, could only wish that she herself were not attended to at all.

Elizabeth climbed into the coach that night with grateful relief.

"Oh, Papa, I hope it is a month complete before I must attend another such ball!" she cried, with half-pretended ill-humor, when the door was safely closed upon them.

"Well, well--we must all suffer a little in London, I suppose," said Mr. Bennet, smiling.

"Do not be cross, Lizzy, merely because you have not got two lovers, as Jane has," said Mrs. Bennet.

"Mama, I am not cross. Only I wish I could be assured of going somewhere where we might not always be seeing Mr. Darcy!"

"And what is the matter with him, my dear? Mrs. Ellison says he has fully ten thousand a year! He looked at you a great deal, Lizzy; if you are diligent, you may yet catch him. Ten thousand a year--that would be almost better than Mr. Harrington! Yes, a fine ball indeed."

"Mama, he does not like me," cried Elizabeth in some distress. "You must have seen the manner in which he looked at me, as well as the simple fact that he looked."

"He did frown more often than smile, I will own," said Mrs. Bennet. "But some men are like that; it is only their way, and it is of no use to quarrel with them. And then his asking you to dance does not look very much as though he did not like you."

"Indeed Mama, I cannot make him out at all, and therefore I shall not attempt it. Only do not ask me to encourage him, I beg of you."

"Well, well, I am in no particular hurry, and Mr. George Ellison would do as well. This is to be Jane's year. We will marry her off, and you shall be the eldest next Season."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

On Thursday morning, as the Miss Bennets and the Bingleys rode out together with Mr. Darcy, Miss Caroline Bingley began the subject that must be uppermost in every lady's mind the morning after such a party. Addressing herself to Elizabeth, she inquired, "And how did you like Lady Harrington's ball?"

"It was very well managed, and certainly very fashionable," said Elizabeth. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw Mr. Darcy endeavoring not to smile.

"Oh! yes, Lady Hartwick is quite entitled to be a member of fashionable society," replied Miss Caroline. "I am glad to see her claiming her place in it. She certainly deserves it, by birth and by education as well as marriage. An education, you know, is so much to a woman, and Lady Hartwick certainly had one of the best."

"I am sure that she was very carefully and conscientiously brought up."

"Indeed," continued Miss Caroline, not much attending to Elizabeth's reply, "education is the foundation of all that a woman may do in life. Those who have not an upbringing that is genteel, elegant, even fashionable, may scarcely hope to achieve much, for even should they be presented with great opportunities in life, sooner or later their deficiency--whether it be of accomplishment, or refinement, or some other thing--will find them out. I know you agree with me, Mr. Darcy, for you are certainly very careful with your sister's education," she concluded, looking toward that gentleman.

"It is an important trust," he replied evenly. "There are too many places in London where she might be sent to gain a great deal of fashion without much information or many accomplishments--one must be selective."

"That is doubtless very true," answered Miss Caroline, a little uncertainly. "But I hope, Mr. Darcy, that you intend to give her something of fashion in her education as well. A woman must have a certain something in her air, her dress, and her manner, if she is to join the best society; a little something, to distinguish herself from the common country miss."

"That is, indeed, the minimum required to join fashionable society," he replied levelly. "But if she wish to succeed there, she will require other things also: accomplishment, beauty if it at all possible, an intelligent mind well improved by extensive reading--and if she wish not to be the prey of every Dowager Lady Gossip, either a very demure manner, or a very lively wit."

"You are very fastidious, Mr. Darcy," observed Elizabeth.

"Perhaps so. But I owe very much to the Darcy family and to the Darcy name."

"I assure you, Miss Eliza, that Miss Darcy is perfectly capable of living up to such requirements," said Miss Caroline triumphantly.

"For her sake and Mr. Darcy's, I am very glad of it," replied Elizabeth, with perfect indifference.

Around eleven o'clock that morning, Mr. Reynolds called for Mary's art lesson, accompanied, as before, by his sister. Miss Grey was too quick for him this time, and had already taken her other pupils to the school room. Miss Reynolds, finding Lydia absent, made some essays at conversation with the oldest two daughters of the house, but when she found that they did not mean to put down their work and attend eagerly to every remark she made, she soon tired of them as companions, and went to retail her stories of great ladies and their fashions to Mrs. Bennet. As that lady preferred gossip to her needle in any event, she found Miss Reynolds a very valuable friend, and the two of them sat with their heads together during the whole course of the lesson.

When the canvas and brushes had been put away, however, the conversation became a little more general, and Elizabeth found that, as the Reynolds were to spend the day in Sloane Street, she must spend a good deal of her morning in listening to the fashionable preenings of Miss Reynolds, which her brother was so entirely incapable of checking, as to make no attempt to do so. He himself was a pleasant enough talker, but devoted most of his attentions to Mary.

Miss Reynolds was very full of the important persons she had seen or spoken with the previous evening. Elizabeth noticed that she said nothing of whom she had danced with, and therefore concluded that she must have spent the evening sitting down, or dancing with gentlemen unworthy of boasting.

As they had no other visitors that morning, Lizzy was very glad when they separated to dress for dinner, though she dreaded bringing her father, who had not yet appeared in the drawing room, into contact with the gentleman.

When they were all seated at the table, Jane began kindly, "I understand, Mr. Reynolds, that your artistic endeavors are expanding at present."

"They are indeed, Miss Bennet. My portraits and landscapes both have been attended with favor of late, and I am happy to say that I am able to expand my workshop."

"I am sure that Mr. Reynolds' success is entirely deserved," said Mary with a combination of sententiousness and admiration. "He has devoted his entire life to his Art, and has asked nothing more than to be able to share its beauties with a larger number of persons."

"That is very selfless of him," said Mr. Bennet, "and I am glad he is to have his reward. Have you sacrificed a great deal, Mr. Reynolds?"

"A great deal of time and effort, Mr. Bennet, but very little more," replied he, looking conscious.

Mr. Bennet was deprived of his prey, but his intelligence was satisfied, and the subject soon turned. Mr. Reynolds divided his time that evening between attempting to gain the approval of the father, and the affections of the daughter, with better success in the latter endeavor.

On the Friday morning Mrs. Gardiner called for Lizzy and Kitty, and leaving Jane and Mary to the attentions of their respective callers, the three called in Brunswick Street. Kitty was too young to have attended the dance, and Mrs. Gardiner thought in this manner to introduce the two without many people being by, for Lady Hartwick was so shy, and Kitty so accustomed to being overlooked, that she feared the two would hardly speak to each other in any other way. They paid their morning call in due form, therefore, and Elizabeth soon mentioning the name of a volume which was shortly expected to come out, she found that very little more need be said, and that with no other expedient than silence on the part of the other two, Kitty and Lady Hartwick were soon engaged in lively conversation upon their favorite subject. In order not to draw attention to their own quietude, Lizzy and Mrs. Gardiner soon went to the window, but when a quarter of an hour, and then another, had passed, Mrs. Gardiner said that she must be on her way.

Lady Hartwick looked very disappointed at this, and expressed a hope that they would be able to stay a good deal longer. Kitty protested that they had hardly begun to discuss Mrs. Radcliffe's latest effort, but Elizabeth intervened.

"Mama has given you leave to miss your lessons today, Kitty, has she not? I can see no reason that you should not stay a little while longer if Lady Hartwick wishes it, though my aunt and I have other business to attend to. It is a fine day, and an easy walk to Sloane Street. Do you not think, Mrs. Gardiner, that Kitty might easily come home on foot?"

"Certainly, if Lady Hartwick will undertake to send a servant home with her," replied Mrs. Gardiner.

"There can be no difficulty on that point," replied Lady Hartwick, rising with a happy smile to see her guests to the door. "You are sure you will not all stay?"

"I am wanted at home, I fear," said Mrs. Gardiner, "and I know that Miss Elizabeth has engagements. Kitty, however, seems to have a holiday." She directed a sharp glance at Elizabeth here, but that young lady was innocently adjusting her bonnet, and did not observe it.

"Then if you will leave her in my care, I will see to it that she is brought safely home," replied the lady of the house, smiling benignly.

To this Mrs. Gardiner was pleased to agree, and Elizabeth was not at all surprised to find that a servant arrived in Sloane Street an hour and a half later with a note, asking Mrs. Bennet if she might spare her daughter for the evening, nor that Mrs. Bennet was only too pleased to imagine her daughter returning in a carriage with a coat of arms on the panel. Elizabeth was not even surprised when the carriage bearing Kitty did not arrive until ten o'clock. After that Kitty was frequently excused from her lessons to spend the day with Lady Hartwick, and lost very little by it. She was so little accustomed to being of any consequence at home, that being the valued friend of a sensible woman must teach her a value for sense that she could not hope otherwise to learn, for all Miss Grey's pains.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The days in Sloane Street now settled into a regular mode of life. In the mornings, Elizabeth and Jane rode out early, usually with the Bingleys or Harringtons, and Mr. Darcy often accompanying Mr. Bingley. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Harrington both continued very attentive, though it was evident to Elizabeth that Miss Bingley had been attempting to discourage her brother since the evening she had met the rest of the family. Elizabeth would usually walk out later in the day, with her maid and her thoughts for company. Further exercise was always needed to settle her spirits on those days when she rode out with Mr. Darcy. It was a rare morning ride indeed when she did not discover him staring at her in his most disapproving manner, and he spoke to her only to quarrel. Their regular intercourse served to confirm her opinion that, though possessed of some virtues, he was a proud and disagreeable man. She would have avoided him if she could, but seemed to meet him everywhere.

Mr. Reynolds continued to call each day for Mary's lesson, and continued to be very attentive to her. His manner, however, was altered. Elizabeth owned that there was something in his look, in his manner, that had not been there when he had been attempting to make himself agreeable to her, and she could not help but think that he was, in fact, falling in love, where there had been principally interest at first. His sister often accompanied him, and was a favored companion of Lydia's and Mrs. Bennet's.

Mrs. Bennet was not remiss in giving as well as attending dinners and evening parties. Though those attached to the Miss Bennets would sometimes attend the mother's parties for the sake of the daughters, the company Mrs. Bennet could command must often be vulgar, and Elizabeth found herself frequently wishing for a family circle. It was vain to wish, however, for her mother meant to make up for a twenty years' absence from the great city, and they had some occupation, some guest or party or play to look forward to, every evening.

So passed the next three weeks.

One night at the end of February, Mr. Darcy had been dining in Brook Street. When the ladies had moved after dinner, he accepted a glass of port from Mr. Bingley and placed himself before the mantle in his most dictatorial fashion.

"Bingley, I want to talk to you about Miss Bennet."

"Miss Bennet!" cried Bingley, coloring. "What can you have to say?"

"That I wish you would pay her a little less attention," said Darcy very seriously. "I fear you may give rise to expectations in certain quarters."

"I hope that I do!" cried Bingley warmly. "I certainly hope you do not think, Darcy, that I am so particularly attentive, without any intention of justifying those expectations. Nothing but the fact that I have known her only five weeks, and her family only three, has prevented my asking her to be my wife before now."

"There are a good many other considerations that might have prevailed with you, then," said Darcy. "The lowness, the vulgarity of the family cannot have escaped you."

"They are not always perfectly behaved--but we have all family we may blush for," said Bingley a little pointedly.

"But we have not all uncles who are attorneys, or in trade."

"My father was in trade," said Bingley simply.

"Very well. I merely wish to point it out. I shall not quarrel with you, Bingley. But there is one final point." Darcy left his place by the mantel and came to sit by his friend.

"And what is that?"

"Are you quite certain that she loves you?"

Mr. Bingley considered silently for a long moment. "I mean to put it to her," he said at last.

"She is very complacent, very agreeable," said Darcy, watching his friend's countenance steadily. "She smiles on you a good deal, certainly, but then Harrington meets with the same treatment. I cannot see that she has given you any encouragement she has not given him."

Mr. Bingley said nothing, but looked at the floor.

"I am sure that Miss Bennet's delicacy would prevent her choosing him over you for a baronetcy. But without any preferential treatment, Bingley--I would not have you in a marriage without affection."

"I am sure she would not marry without affection," said he quietly.

"She is a young lady of great delicacy," repeated Darcy patiently, "but against the wishes of all her family, she may not be able to achieve that. Mrs. Bennet has undoubtedly brought her daughter to London in order to marry her off, and I cannot think her possessed of sufficient delicacy to allow her daughter to refuse a suitor merely because she is not attached to him."

Bingley stared a long time into the fire. "And you? What do you think of the matter?"

"I have watched her closely, and I cannot see that she favors you any more than Harrington."

The gentlemen argued it out for the best part of an hour. Every instance of complacence on Miss Bennet's part, every time she had smiled at him, or seemed to favor him, had to be brought forward by Bingley, and reasoned away by Darcy. But in the end, Bingley sat in silence, his head hanging low.

Darcy broke a long silence. "Bingley, I think it might be best if we avoided the Bennets for awhile."

"Yes," said he heavily. "Yes, certainly. Will you give my apologies to the ladies? I do not feel well. I think I had better go to bed."

Caroline's eyes widened when Mr. Darcy walked into the drawing-room alone. Leaving Louisa to pore over fashion plates alone, she went immediately to his side.

"Have you quarreled?" she asked in a low tone.

"No, but he is very dejected." Mr. Darcy sighed. "I am certain he is doing the right thing, Miss Caroline, but I wish it caused him less pain."

"He will get over it soon enough. He has never lacked for a love object."

"It may take a little longer this time," said he seriously. "I have seldom seen him so affected."

"But I am sure she was not," replied Miss Caroline persuasively.

"I must agree with you, and therefore I have acted as I did," said he a little coolly. "He has gone to bed. Do not expect good spirits from him tomorrow."

"We will cheer him up, Mr. Darcy, you will see. Louisa and I are very capable of lifting his spirits."

"I hope so. They are very sunk."

The following week was a very unpleasant one in both the Bennet and Bingley households. Louisa Bingley had been too occupied with her wedding clothes to worry very much about her brother's growing attachment to Miss Bennet, but Caroline had been nearly wearing herself out with attempts to keep Charles away from the lady. Once he had accepted the inevitable, she looked forward to the resulting peace to herself. Now, however, Charles presented the difficulty in his own person, for he was a saddened version of himself. He would not ride in the morning, nor attend Caroline to parties in the evenings; he went morosely to his club, and stayed there all day. She found that without his presence, Mr. Darcy almost never called, and her morning rides were now attended only by Mrs. Wilks, unless she should chance to meet with some other acquaintance.

In the Bennet household, however, there was real suffering. Jane had fallen deeply in love, and looked forward to each day as an opportunity for those chance meetings which lovers can always bring about. When she did not see him the first day, she was disappointed; on the second, troubled; on the third, saddened; and on the fourth, actually alarmed. She called in Brook Street, but was told all the family were out. She wrote to Caroline, but received no reply. The Wednesday must relieve all her fears; they were invited to a ball, at which she knew the Bingleys would also be present. Jane dressed with more than usual care, and hoped for happiness--but Mr. Bingley did not appear. Mr. Hurst and Miss Bingley did no more than nod to her, and while Miss Caroline just acknowledged the acquaintance, she would only speak very coldly to her for a few moments, before turning away. In her distress, Jane imparted her fears to her sister. Elizabeth hardly knew what to make of it. She could think of no sudden offense. Her mother, certainly, was continually offending Miss Caroline, but Mr. Bingley had never seemed to take note of it, and Mrs. Bennet had done nothing particularly egregious of late. The ladies could only wait, and wonder.