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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Posted on 2014-04-11

Mr. Harrington felt that it was time. He knew what he wanted in a wife, and he had found it. Miss Bennet was sweet-tempered, elegant in her manners, and beautiful. She was just what the wife of a future baronet should be, and her fortune would contribute to the family coffers. He was not a mercenary man, and he intended to prove it by assuring her father that it should all be settled on their children, but some fortune his wife must have. Miss Bennet's connections were low, certainly, but there was no reason she need see them above once or twice a year. Once their daughters were all married it was doubtful that the Bennets would even have funds for annual trips to London. No, Miss Bennet was just what he wanted, and would make a very proper mistress for Breedon.

He set out in good spirits for Sloane Street that morning, and when they returned from their ride, said that he would just see Miss Bennet into the house. His parents, quickly grasping the situation, rode on. In that brief instant before the door was opened, however, he asked her to walk in the garden with him. Jane attempted to refuse, but he was insistent, and she found that she had better hear him out. There was a brief, awkward interlude in the drawing room while she changed her clothes. Mrs. Bennet seemed to feel the declaration in the air, could hardly sit still, and was constantly winking and muttering. Miss Elizabeth might have been some help in dispelling the atmosphere, but she was, unfortunately, out walking. Miss Bennet soon returned, they went to the garden, and he began immediately to tell his love.

He spoke sincerely. His feelings were not very deep, nor of long duration, but such as they were, they were genuine. Her sweetness was appealing, her beauty delightful, her elegance a pleasure. There was a real anxiety in his question to give it weight, and it nearly broke Jane's heart to refuse him--but refuse him she must. Might he know the reason? Was there any objection he might remove? "If he must know--she told him only that there might be no cruel hope, for there was no reason to believe affection returned--her heart, though entirely unclaimed, was not her own to bestow."

He said what was proper, took up his heart, his hat, and his gloves, and was gone. He strolled calmly down the street, whistling a jaunty tune. He purchased a new hat at Lock's, then turned into his club. Once in the safety of its familiar rooms, however, he gave up all pretense, fell into a chair and, with a gloomy countenance, called for a large glass of whiskey.

He was well past his fourth when an old friend came in.

"Well, Bingley," said he, pulling himself together and extending a hand, "Congratulations. I suppose the best man won."

Mr. Bingley was willing enough to shake hands with an old friend, but he seemed entirely confused. "What on earth are you talking of, Harrington?"

"Miss Bennet, of course."

"Miss--Miss Bennet?" stammered the other.

"Race not always to the swift, I daresay. You would think a baronetcy would mean a great deal with a girl, but I suppose, as the world goes on now...well, one never knows."

"What are you talking about, man?" cried Mr. Bingley, becoming urgent as an ill-defined hope surged through him.

"Miss Bennet, fellow, I told you. Tall girl, fair, very pretty. You must know Miss Bennet."

"I do."

"You ought to, if you're to marry her," said Mr. Harrington, his lucidity returning briefly.

"That's the first I've heard of it," said Mr. Bingley.

"No? Well, it must be some other fellow, then."

Mr. Bingley's heart crashed back into his boots.

"Harrington," he said carefully, drawing up a chair, "tell me all about it."

"I proposed to her today," he sighed. "She rejected me."

"Well?" said Mr. Bingley eagerly.

"She said," Mr. Harrington spoke a little thickly, "that her heart, though unclaimed, was the property of another. I assumed it was you."

Mr. Harrington blinked slowly. "Odd thing, that. I could swear Bingley was here a moment ago."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Elizabeth returned from her walk and went upstairs to take off her bonnet, but when she opened the door to their room, she found Jane lying upon the bed, hugging her pillow and weeping.

"Jane! Dearest, whatever can be the matter?" cried Elizabeth, flying instantly to her side and throwing her arms about her.

"Oh! Lizzy, you are come back. Nothing is wrong. That is to say, nothing very much. Only, I suppose I was a little overwhelmed."

"Now, Jane," said Elizabeth, a little reassured, though entirely unenlightened, "you must tell me all about it, and at once. Shall I fetch you a glass of water?"

"No, Lizzy, I am better now--I had better tell you all."

Her communication was quickly made. Mr. Harrington had come--had proposed--and been rejected. She had felt so sorry for him, that she had suddenly been taken with a violent headache, and was come upstairs to lie down upon the bed, without saying anything to their mother. Once there she had been overcome by weakness of spirits, and so Lizzy had found her crying.

Elizabeth could not help but feel, though she did not say, that Jane's distress over Mr. Bingley's desertion might have had some part in this sudden weakness of spirits. Though Mrs. Bennet was indifferent to him so long as Mr. Harrington called, Elizabeth could see that Jane was troubled.

"Dear Jane, you have the kindest heart in all creation. Come, come, Mr. Harrington will do very well. He is a very good sort of man, though he would not do for you. If he must have his heart broken, it is better done soon than late. You will see, Jane, he will recover, and quickly, too. I am sure his heart was not very deeply touched."

"Oh, Lizzy, if you could have heard his voice! But I pray it may be so. My mother, however, will be sorely disappointed."

"I will speak to Mama, Jane. You must lie down and rest a little. Nan will have her bonnet off now; I will send her to you at once. You know how good and quiet she is, and I will come back to you if I can. And you must eat and drink a little, and rest here until dinner time."

"It is very kind of you, Lizzy, but there--I am better now--I am sure I can manage. Poor Mama! She will feel so much. I really must tell her at once."

"Jane, I will not allow it," cried Elizabeth, stamping her foot in a mock-imperious gesture, and waggling her finger till Jane could not choose but smile. "Mama will be exceedingly vexed, no doubt, but there is nothing to be said or done, and therefore I will do as the object of her vexation, as well as you. At the moment I daresay I am better fitted to bear it. You really must not come down. There, lie down upon the bed again, and leave Mama to me."

Elizabeth entered the morning room with a resolute tread. Mrs. Bennet looked up from her work in surprise.

"Lizzy! I thought it was Jane coming in. Where can that girl be? It is fully three quarters of an hour since Mr. Harrington called, and I am sure it cannot take half that to accept a gentleman's proposal."

"She is upstairs, Mama, lying down upon the bed. She had a headache."

"Nonsense; she is walking in the garden with Mr. Harrington."

"He has gone, Mama, and Jane is gone upstairs," Elizabeth repeated patiently.

"What? That cannot be!" cried Mrs. Bennet. "You are talking quite at random, Lizzy. I am sure my Jane would come first to me, and tell me all about it. I am in such suspense--she must know I wish to hear that all is settled! And then Mr. Harrington must go to your father. No, no, this is nonsense. I saw them go into the garden myself."

"They did go, ma'am, but they are not there now." Elizabeth, perceiving that her mother's confusion could only be ended by an explanation of the full cause, and judging that her mind had been as well prepared for the blow as it could be, added, "Mr. Harrington made his proposal, Mama, and was refused."

Mrs. Bennet shrieked and leapt up from her chair. "Lizzy! You cannot be serious. Not accept him! My daughter is to be a baronet's wife--Lady Harrington--she cannot have thrown him away! They must be still in the garden, I am quite sure they must."

"Come and see yourself, Mama," said Elizabeth, opening the door into the passage. Mrs. Bennet rushed across and into the schoolroom, where she hurried at once to the window. Elizabeth wished she would have gone into any other room, but she supposed that her sisters must all know at some time.

"Oh! Lizzy, they are not there! They are gone! Mrs. Hodges! Jane! My smelling salts!"

Elizabeth, with the help of Miss Grey, supported Mrs. Bennet back into the morning room, seated her in a comfortable chair, and bestowed upon her all those articles necessary to feminine distress.

"Come, Mama, you must not trouble Jane. She is very unhappy, for she sent Mr. Harrington away saddened, and you know the kindness of Jane's heart," said Elizabeth, speaking rapidly before Mrs. Hodges could arrive, and loudly enough to be heard over her mother's lamentations. "Take comfort, Mama; he would not have suited her. You would not have liked Jane to go so far away North, I am sure."

"But she should have come to London every year, and we would see her then. Oh! I wished so much for my dear girl to find a husband before the season was out. She is nineteen, and will soon be growing old, and what will become of all her beauty then? She will be wasted, quite thrown away."

"I am sure, Mama, that even an early settlement cannot be so comfortable as for her to find a man who has not ties to a part of the country so far from our own," Elizabeth continued calmly, arranging her mother's cushions. "Jane has other admirers, you know, and I am sure she will be married in proper time."

Mrs. Hodges now appeared, but as Mrs. Bennet was a little calmer, Elizabeth was able to dismiss the housekeeper, and allow Miss Grey to return to her schoolroom. Elizabeth was even able to persuade her mother not to summon Jane. There could be no doubt as to the event; Mr. Harrington being gone from the garden, without coming into the house, was such a presumption, as must indicate quite clearly how their interview had terminated, and Elizabeth only wanted to be alone with Mrs. Bennet until her initial shock had passed and she could be talked into better temper, and more reason.

Mrs. Bennet felt all her injury, and at first was inclined to blame Jane severely, but Elizabeth, taking little notice of all her mother's complaints, went on talking so calmly, and with such assurance, of Jane's virtues and Jane's admirers, that she soon softened her mother's anger. Mrs. Bennet was naturally good-tempered, and naturally willing to talk of suitors for her daughters, so that it took only a great deal of patience and perseverance on Elizabeth's part to turn the course of her thoughts from running on Mr. Harrington to running upon the other gentlemen from whom Jane might select a husband. Jane was still tolerably young, and very handsome, and in possession of an excellent fortune, so that Mrs. Bennet was soon taking an interest in other arrangements. Elizabeth had not yet given up hope of Mr. Bingley, but her principal aim at present must be to lessen Jane's sufferings, by preventing Mrs. Bennet from scolding her daughter for turning away an eligible man.

"And then," concluded Mrs. Bennet comfortably, when she had talked of all the young men who had admired Jane, and the disadvantages of having her settled so far to the north, "although his fortune would eventually be very large, the income from Breedon is only about two thousand a year, and so they would only have three thousand to begin with. It is not a bad income, but then it is not a very good one, and Jane might certainly do better as to present fortune."

By the time that Jane descended, somewhat timidly, and with pale features, to dine, Mrs. Bennet had left her couch entirely, and was so reconciled to the idea that she was able to do no more than chuck Jane under the chin, and remark that it was a great pity that she had not liked Mr. Harrington, for she might have been a baronet's lady--"but there, I would not have you marry a fellow you cannot like. Only you must find somebody else of good fortune, and soon, my dear. Good society does not like a lady much past twenty."

Jane could only smile a little tremulously, and they all sat down to dinner.

As they did so, there came a tremendous knock upon the door, so loud that they looked at each other, and hesitated; and Lydia and Mrs. Bennet, less scrupulous than the rest, went at once to the window to see who it was.

"Upon my soul! If it isn't Mr. Bingley," cried Mrs. Bennet. She opened the door into the passage and heard Sedgwick telling the young man in very stern tones that "they were all just gone in to dinner."

"Oh! Ah. Were they?" was Mr. Bingley's uncertain response.

"Oh! Mr. Bingley," called Mrs. Bennet, stepping out into the passage, "do come in. We are just sitting down to dine--you must join us."

Elizabeth looked at Jane, and saw that she colored brightly and looked at the floor.

Mr. Bingley, though seeming half embarrassed to do so, accepted the invitation, and in a moment had entered the room. His eyes sought Jane, but she was too distressed to look at him.

"Well, Mr. Bingley, we are very glad to see you. It has been some time," said Mrs. Bennet, a little pointedly.

"Thank you. I am very glad to be here. All my wishes have been for it," said he, looking so speakingly at Jane, that Elizabeth, though unsure of the cause of his visit, felt no doubt as to the result.

"And what has so taken up your time?" inquired Mrs. Bennet, pleasantly.

"Some acquaintance of mine had gotten into a rather bad mistake," he said, awkwardly, "which it took a rather extraordinary event to reverse. Happily, it is all cleared up now, or very nearly, and I need not fear it removing me from my friends any longer."

The servants had now brought another chair and setting, and Mrs. Bennet directed them to place it beside Jane. Mr. Bingley, though clearly feeling all the awkwardness of it, was very glad to take the place.

Mrs. Bennet looked at Elizabeth, and winked. "Other admirers...with better present fortunes," she said in a very low voice, and went to take her own place.

The meal now begun was a very awkward thing, though not entirely unpleasant. Mrs. Bennet talked a good deal, chiefly of the neighborhood about Longbourn and of the houses in it. Mr. Bennet, who had been in his library all morning and received only the briefest summary of the day's activities, watched Mr. Bingley and Jane with bemusement, but was some assistance to Elizabeth in attempting to carry on enough conversation to cover the embarrassment of the two principals, who said little, ate less, and occupied themselves during almost the whole of the dinner, with watching each other, and pretending that they did not.

When the ladies moved for the night, Jane thought her distress might be a little lessened, but as Mrs. Bennet must perforce be with them, her hope was disappointed.

"Well, Jane, Mr. Bingley is certainly a very handsome young man--you seem to like him a good deal better than Mr. Harrington, eh? Well, well, young ladies will have their whims, and though his property is not so good as Mr. Harrington's will be, still his income is better at present. And then there is the advantage of his not being settled so far away, or indeed at all. He might take a house in the neighborhood, and then I should not lose you. They do say that young Mr. Netherfield means to let Netherfield Park, now he has inherited. It is a very handsome house, though it has had no mistress for so long. I am sure you would do very well there, until some suitable purchase offered."

With such ramblings did Mrs. Bennet comfort herself for the loss of Mr. Harrington, while Mary sat down to draw, and Miss Grey suffered Kitty to amuse herself with a novel, and Lydia with the latest edition of Ackermann's Repository.

"La! How dull Town is," lamented that last young lady, when she was tired of this pastime, and going to the window. "I thought we should be all amusement in London."

"And so we have been, Lydia; we have been to a dance, or a dinner, or to drink tea, or had a party here, nearly every evening," said Elizabeth.

"It's all very well for you and Jane, and even Mary," said she, sulkily, "but I must sit at home and be duller than in the country!"

"Lydia, you are only thirteen," said Miss Grey sharply. "You must attend to your studies now, so that you may have leisure and resources for enjoyment later."

"Resources! You talk like an old parson!" laughed Lydia. "I dance very well, and can sing a little; those are all the resources required of a pretty woman, and I am sure I shall be very tall."

"Come, Miss Lydia; if you are not amused by the fashion plates, then we had better go and resume your French," said Miss Grey, collecting her charges. "Miss Catherine, come along. Miss Mary, are you well as you are?"

"Oh! Yes, I am only making some drawings, and the light from the candle is quite enough."

Miss Grey departed with her charges, and Jane sat and attempted to attend to her work, but with very little success. The interval before the gentlemen joined them seemed interminable--but it ended at last. Mr. Bingley, with ready eagerness, took a seat by Jane, and they two quickly fell into conversation. As they talked only of horses, Elizabeth could have very little to say, and soon went to assist her mother with the tea. They were, however, too deep in their conversation to notice it, and so she brought them each a cup.

"Oh! Thank you, Lizzy," cried Jane, almost rising.

"Stay, Jane; Mama and I have managed the tea."

"Oh--I am sorry," said Jane, consciously, "I fear I am not quite myself tonight. Mr. Bingley and I were talking of a new pair of horses," she added inconsequently.

"I am thinking," said Mr. Bingley, coloring handsomely, "of buying a new carriage and pair. And so, Miss Bennet, you really must tell me what you think: are the chestnuts or the bays to be preferred?"

"From your description, I am sure that either pair would be admirable, but I can really say no more, without having seen the horses."

Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile. He would be consulting Jane on her new carriage next, and at this rate they would have chosen their house and new furnished it, before the poor fellow could have the chance to ask her to be his wife! Mr. Bingley, however, had come determined to know his fate, and now resolved to put it to the test.

"I believe that the very pair I was thinking of are just down the street. Their owner, Mr. Mason, is a neighbor of yours. I know I might slip out at any time, and ask the groom to show me the horses, for he knows I am thinking of them. Perhaps you would be kind enough to come with me?"

Jane smiled, and glanced at the drapes that covered the windows.

"It is very dark," said Elizabeth hesitantly.

"I am sure," said Jane shyly, without taking her eyes off Mr. Bingley, "that I shall be in very good hands, and if Mr. Bingley will consent to give me his arm, I shall not be afraid to go."

"Oh! By all means, my dear, do," chimed in Mrs. Bennet, who had been listening while pretending not to do so. "If Mr. Bingley wants your opinion on a pair of horses, you must certainly give it to him. Mr. Mason is only three houses down, and we will send a groom with you. There can be no trouble in so short a distance."

Jane now rose to fetch her pelisse and hat, and only just pausing to squeeze Elizabeth's hand, ran out of the room; a few moments later the servant had arrived and she and Mr. Bingley were gone down the street.

Elizabeth took up a book at once, determined not to keep track of the time, and yet she could not help but notice that fully half an hour had passed before the two returned. A glance was enough to convince her of a perfect understanding. Mr. Bingley just saw Jane to a place by the fire, and then, making some half-audible remark, disappeared in the direction of Mr. Bennet's study.

The rest of the evening presented a very enviable, though a common enough, scene of domestic felicity. Mr. Bennet gave his blessing, and the drawing room was all exquisite happiness for the rest of the evening. It was too new to be much talked of; too new for anything else to be thought of; and as Mr. Bennet remained in his library, Elizabeth took to herself the duty of talking to her mother over her work, and left the lovers to talk quietly by the fireside.

When the striking of midnight announced that Mr. Bingley really could not, in conscience, put off going home much longer, he went with much regret; shook hands with Elizabeth with great warmth, and claimed the affectionate title of sister; was kind to Mrs. Bennet, and extremely civil to Mr. Bennet, and went away with a heart as full of happiness as it had been, that morning, of sorrow.

Jane stayed some few minutes to hear all Mrs. Bennet's effusions upon the subject of Mr. Bingley's wealth, and his less important merits of beauty, manners, and taste, and then retired to bed, with her sister close behind her.

"Oh, Lizzy!" cried Jane, when the door was closed behind them, "I am truly the happiest of women!"

"Naturally, for you are the best. You and Mr. Bingley deserve each other--that is to say, he almost deserves you, and you deserve him, and all that you will make him; for, as nearly perfect as he is, you are incapable of being valued by anybody, without improving him. Dearest Jane! I am so glad at last to see you as happy as you deserve to be."

Jane laughed at her sister's teasing, and they prepared for sleep quickly.

"But what was the cause of his absence?" asked Elizabeth. "That I would wish to know."

"He gave no more explanation than he did earlier, and I did not ask for more. Is it not enough to know that it was his wish, his desire to be here?"

"It may be enough for you, my dear, but I must conjecture. Depend upon it, some one has attempted to divide you. You cannot have forgotten his sister's behavior."

"I can hardly think that Caroline would attempt anything so injurious to her brother's happiness!" cried Jane. "No, someone must have spread some rumor about me; she must have heard something against my character, and therefore cautioned her brother, but now all is revealed, and he is glad to be near me again."

"Well--it may come to the same thing, though I do not think I could be happy with a man who believed every slander alleged against me."

"No doubt he has merely been investigating, and wished to stay away while he sought out the rumor's truth."

"Very well; I shall acquit him. But the sister I cannot acquit. I do not ask you to dislike her, Jane, only remember this example: remember that her affections are changeable, and do not trust her."

"If she had heard some such rumor, she ought certainly either to have taxed me with it, or to have treated me with some kindness in the interval, until her brother's investigations should yield some more certain knowledge," agreed Jane reluctantly. "I do not know that I should distrust her--but I will recollect that her affections for me are not as firm as those of her brother. Much must depend upon her manner of receiving me now."

On this happier note their conversation ended, for Elizabeth would not distress her sister on so happy a night.

CHAPTER THIRTY

It was not to be supposed that, however late the previous evening, the two lovers would not rise sufficiently early for their customary exercise, and Mr. Bingley and Jane rode out together at the usual hour. Elizabeth was to accompany them in her role of suitable chaperon, and from a desire to escape the very mercenary joy of Mrs. Bennet. Neither of Mr. Bingley's sisters were with him that morning, and she wondered whether news of his engagement had yet been imparted to them. His friend, however, was with him, and Elizabeth found herself perforce riding beside Mr. Darcy.

"I hear from Mr. Bingley," began that gentleman, "that your sister has accepted him. I am very happy for them both. He is very much in love, and as she is an excellent woman, I have no doubt that she will make him very happy."

"He has attached one of the sweetest hearts in the world, and as his own is open and affectionate, I think no reasonable person would predict anything but happiness for them," agreed Elizabeth, pleased by the compliment.

"It is an example of one of those occasions," continued he, "where a match which some people consider as unequal, may be made equal by the fittingness of temperament, principles, and education."

"And upon which side would the inequality be generally supposed to lie?" inquired Elizabeth calmly.

"Certainly the defect in such a case would typically be observed upon the lady's side," said Mr. Darcy, surprised.

"And of what nature would you suppose it to be?" continued she, coolly. "You have already allowed them to be equals in temperament, principles, and education; you can scarcely allege any inequality of fortune; and as to birth, I believe my sister has rather the better claims. Wherein, then, can any inequality be found?"

"Why, in connections," said he, surprised and, Elizabeth thought, a little embarrassed.

"What! Because she has an uncle in Cheapside?"

"Nay, Miss Bennet; this is too particular. I spoke rather of a generality. Bingley moves in fashionable circles; he is acquainted with people of title, and of very large fortune."

"Have no fear, Mr. Darcy," said she, smiling pertly, "we shall not presume on the connection."

"I have no concern for myself," said he, with injured dignity.

"Indeed!" said Elizabeth laughing. "Well, we lowly Bennets shall not trouble the rest of his fashionable acquaintance either."

"You mistake my meaning," said he, gravely.

"Then I shall be very plain, so that you cannot mistake mine. I care nothing for fashionable circles. My idea of good company has to do with principles, manners, education, and conversation. If I can have a little beauty, and a little wit, into the bargain, I shall be satisfied. I have met with foolish people and respectable ones in every rank of society to which I have been admitted, in about equal proportions, and therefore I place no higher value on fashion than on a lack thereof."

Mr. Darcy was silent for a moment, and then said, "Your opinions on fashion itself I know, but surely you will agree that fashionable society contains most of those who are best and brightest in this country, and is therefore worth the price of admission?"

"Along with those who are most foolish, expensive, and vicious--and therefore is not."

"Ah! You say so now," said he, with a very meaning look, "but perhaps if you were given the opportunity of entrée--perhaps you would think differently then."

"I assure you, it would not change my opinion," cried she with energy, and almost with anger.

To this he could have nothing to say, and with a cold bow and an angry look spurred his horse forward. He said nothing more to her but a very haughty adieu when they reached Sloane Street.

It was about this time that Elizabeth spoke to her father about engaging a companion for Mrs. Bennet. She was convinced that the education so capably undertaken by Miss Grey would be but half completed if it were constantly interrupted by her mother. Jane had been her mother's frequent companion, but she was soon to be married, and Elizabeth was too fond of her liberty and her exercise to be willing herself to submit to Jane's role. Their own absences in the morning, when they rode out with friends, had already shown what Mrs. Bennet would do when left alone, for until an hour when she could call upon her friends, she was constantly making some excuse or other, to take Lydia from the school room.

It did not take much effort to convince Mr. Bennet to think as Elizabeth did; he was usually willing to see reason, and was readily sensible that here lay an opportunity of keeping his wife respectably engaged at home, with very little trouble to himself. Elizabeth named Mrs. Wilks as a candidate, for her temper was mild and obliging, and the Bingleys would certainly want her no longer when Miss Bingley was once Mrs. Hurst. "Indeed, Papa, I think they hardly want her at all; she is not valued, or regarded by anybody, and I pity her. I am sure she will be glad to change the powdered footmen for a situation where she may be of real use."

Mr. Bennet was agreeable, Mrs. Wilks relieved, and Mrs. Bennet gave herself airs for weeks, and talked of "my companion, Mrs. Wilks" to all her friends. The ladies themselves got on very well, for Mrs. Bennet wanted principally to be listened to, and Mrs. Wilks was not prone to talk; but then Mrs. Bennet liked to hear all the latest news, and Mrs. Wilks seemed somehow to know everybody's business. It was soon arranged that she was to come to them when they left town for Hertfordshire.

Some few days must now make the engagement public. As the Bennets' house, though elegant, was too small for large dances, the announcement must be disseminated in the usual way, by being whispered to a privileged few, who felt they might just tell it to one or two friends. The Misses Bingley had been informed by their brother of his plans, and as the thing was done and could not be undone, accepted it with resignation, and were kinder than before to their future sister, while avoiding all of the other Bennets save Elizabeth as much as could possibly be done.

It now remained to determine the plans of the engaged couple. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Bingley drew up the settlement papers together, but Jane herself ought to be consulted as to where she wished to live. Miss Caroline was sure of persuading them both that the most eligible course was to take a house in London until such time as an estate offered for purchase, but found Jane surprisingly resistant to the suggestion. "Charles--" with a blush--"had intimated that he would wish to reside in the country for a time, even before an eligible purchase should offer, and while always happy to oblige her future sister, she must think first of the wishes of her future husband." Miss Caroline retreated from the field in some disarray, and felt that the new Mrs. Bingley might be less manageable than she had hoped.

Mrs. Bennet was all for Netherfield Park. That Mr. Bingley must wish soon to purchase an estate, she knew, but that he was busy in his wooing, she felt; and neither of the young lovers was eager for him to be occupied by the affairs of business which must be required in connection with such a purchase. The gentleman and the lady both being willing, it was accordingly determined, that a party was to go and look at Netherfield. That Mr. Bingley must go, was a matter of course, and he would not hear of Jane's not coming; Mr. Bingley wanted Mr. Darcy's opinion, and Jane wanted Lizzy's, and Mrs. Bennet assumed herself into the party. Miss Caroline, not quite equal to that presumption, found that the excursion had been planned entirely without her, and that she was not wanted. She was so dismayed at this slight as to determine to throw in her lot with her older sister, until such time as the lovers should be more reasonable.

Mr. Bingley, not particularly desirous of being shut up in a coach with Mrs. Bennet for the duration of a trip from London to Hertfordshire, proposed driving Jane in his curricle, to which Mrs. Bennet agreed with knowing nods and winks. Mr. Bennet then added himself to the party. At the last moment, however, there was a little rearrangement; Mr. Darcy proposed his own barouche as a more comfortable vehicle than the Bennets' coach, and Mrs. Bennet, taking ill, was required to stay at home; and on a fine morning in mid-March, they all set off to spend two nights at Longbourn, and look into Netherfield Park.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Posted on 2014-04-17

Nobody was very surprised that, although the diminution of their party no longer provided much of an excuse for the taking of two carriages, Mr. Bingley and Jane still chose to go in the curricle. The morning being cold, the barouche was closed up, and Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bennet, and Elizabeth traveled in more comfort if less perfect felicity than the lovers. Their conversation was, to Elizabeth's surprise, tolerably lively. Mr. Bennet, free of the company of his wife and silly daughters, was more pleasant and more rational than even Elizabeth often saw him, and Mr. Darcy was quite an altered creature. He talked amiably with herself and her father; there were no haughty sneers, and only a few chilly silences. She was surprised--confounded--she knew not what to make of it. In her father's presence she passed off her surprise as well as she could, but at the first stop they were alone for a few minutes, and Elizabeth could ill conceal her astonishment.

"Miss Bennet, you quite stare at me," said Mr. Darcy, his mood rising even to playfulness. "Is there anything wrong in my dress?"

"Not at all; is there generally in mine?"

He could not but understand her; he colored, but her arch smile bade him continue. "Nay, Miss Bennet, I will not be put off. Come, tell me why you stare."

"I have never seen you so...animated." She saved herself in time from "amiable."

Mr. Darcy grew serious. "Pray consider, Miss Bennet, that you have always seen me in very unequal company."

"And am I any more your equal than my family, or than the Bingleys?"

"I am learning to think as you do, Miss Bennet," said he, with gentle gravity. "I was not speaking of equality of consequence, but of principles, information and manners. Can it really surprise you that I may be more open with those who are elegant and artless?"

She was silenced; she could not but feel the compliment, and the rationality of his argument. Mr. Bennet returning soon thereafter, she was left, in the intervals of their conversation, to think on what Mr. Darcy had said, and to pass their acquaintance in review. That he should be rude to anybody, was inexcusable; but that he should be cool to those who were artful--Miss Caroline sprang instantly to mind--and to those who were vulgar--with a blush, her own mother occurred--was perhaps unavoidable. She still could not be pleased with him, however, for determining that everybody should be vulgar and artful until they had proved themselves otherwise. That he should be the judge of all the world!--no, only a great pride could insist upon it. She was softened, but she was in no humor to be satisfied.

The next stage of their journey passed quietly. Mr. Darcy spent most of his time in looking out the window, and in contrast to his earlier behavior, said very little. Several times he seemed as if he would speak, but always stopped at the last moment. Mr. Bennet observed it all in perfect silence.

When they had reached Longbourn, they separated at once to bathe and dress for dinner. The household had been apprised of their coming by letter, and so at four o'clock ("For we must have some deference to Town hours, eh, Lizzy?") they all sat down to a very good dinner, and to more sensible company than their dining room had usually seen. Mr. Darcy seemed to have conquered whatever had made him silent in the carriage, and conversed as she had seen him do during the first part of their journey.

"Well, Mr. Bingley," said Mr. Bennet, when the ladies had moved, "I suppose it is time enough to tell you of that small condition which I made, before the settlement papers can be signed."

"You know, sir, that I am willing to agree to any reasonable thing for the sake of your daughter," said Mr. Bingley amiably.

"And a few that are not reasonable, I daresay, or you are less in love than I take you to be. But come, I think you will not find this entirely disagreeable, though it may be a little eccentric. You and Jane seem very well matched, sir, but I have the strongest possible objection to any of my daughters marrying any gentleman on so slight an acquaintance as a season in Town may afford."

Mr. Bingley frowned in perplexity. "I hope, sir, that you do not intend to require a long engagement when all our other affairs are in readiness."

"I complained, sir, not of the shortness, but of the slightness, of the acquaintance. To see a gentleman in Town among his friends gives knowledge of one side of him; to see him in the country, in different pursuits, acquaints one with another side. It is now the middle of March, and I believe that we can conclude our business in town by the middle of April. If, after that period, you will oblige me by taking a house or lodging in our neighborhood, and residing here for a few months, I shall raise no objections to your marriage being solemnized on or around Midsummer."

"I should be only too delighted," said Mr. Bingley, relieved. "Provided that Miss Bennet has no objections to the date, there is nothing I should like so well, and if Netherfield suits me, I shall merely take it early, and come direct from town."

"And now, Mr. Darcy, that you have had to hear all the details of other men's business, I shall trouble you to tell me if you think my plan eccentric," said Mr. Bennet, rounding rather suddenly on that gentleman.

"Not at all, sir," replied he, very composedly; "and I believe that, should my sister marry a gentleman previously unknown to me, I may very well put it into action myself. There are too many marriages made, where the partners are known to each other only from a dozen balls and twice that number of dinner parties. The flush and fever of London entertainments is not a very promising place to acquire a knowledge of the character of one's partner for life."

"Then as you, Mr. Bingley, have no objection, and your friend and adviser has adjudged between us and considered the whole thing reasonable," said Mr. Bennet a little drily, "I think you are somewhat eager to rejoin the ladies."

Mr. Bingley flushed a little, but he smiled, bowed, and made for the door.

"We will join you in a moment, Bingley," said Mr. Darcy, detaining his host with a gesture. "Sir--I do not mean to intrude myself into your family affairs, but I must in conscience assure myself on one point. You are acquainted with Mr. Reynolds?"

"I am," said Mr. Bennet, in some surprise.

"He is, to my knowledge, an honest man, but his ambition sometimes overreaches his good business sense. You may not be aware, sir, that he opened a workshop similar to the one he now has some five or six years ago. It was its commercial failure that reduced him to the comparative poverty in which he was willing to live cheaply in the countryside, painting and teaching the daughters of the local gentry. He has now gathered enough capital to expand his workshop again, although I believe that one or two persons well acquainted with the market for his paintings have advised him against it. If my sister, sir, were addressed by Mr. Reynolds, I should settle her fortune very closely upon herself and her children, to ensure both them and him an adequate provision, in the event of any financial reverses."

"Thank you, sir--I understand you perfectly."

Mr. Darcy bowed, and they proceeded to join the ladies.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

As soon as they had all breakfasted the next morning, they drove over to Netherfield Park. The house was carefully examined, the attics counted and rooms paced. Mr. Bingley would doubtless have been satisfied with a quarter of an hour's examination, but Jane was too careful a housekeeper not to determine that there was adequate housing for servants and rooms suitable for domestic comfort, and Elizabeth had been solemnly charged by their mother to bring her accurate information as to the size of the principal rooms, for old Mr. Netherfield had been so long in bad health that Mrs. Bennet could not remember when she had last seen them in use, and could not feel certain that they were sufficiently grand.

When the park and the kitchen-garden, the rooms and the offices, the stables and paddock had been thoroughly inspected, Jane was very happy to join her fiancé, in pronouncing it a very good house, comfortable and elegant, and to signify, with a charming blush, that she would be very happy to take up residence there at Midsummer. Mr. Bingley was enthusiastic in his commendation, and even Mr. Darcy said it was "Comfortable and tolerably handsome."

Their principal task completed, the whole party determined to drive into Meryton. Mrs. Bennet would have been horrified had they held that large dinner party which she had settled upon as the suitable way of introducing her daughter's conquest to the inhabitants of that town, and so they were to keep mostly to themselves, but Elizabeth was determined to call upon Charlotte Lucas before they returned to London, for she missed her friend sorely. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Bingley were to call on Mr. Phillips in order to settle the last of the papers attendant upon Jane's marriage, and Mr. Darcy, having nothing else to do, looked in at the local bookseller's, while Jane accompanied her sister.

"My dear Charlotte," said Elizabeth, when they were comfortably settled by the fire, "You cannot think how I have missed you!"

"Does London not agree with you, Lizzy? Jane certainly has a fine bloom," said Charlotte, smiling knowingly.

"Oh, London is well enough," said Elizabeth, "but I miss the freedom of the country. Without a regular supply of long walks, I find it is more difficult than I had imagined to keep my spirits tolerably composed when some of the company we must keep is trying."

"Anybody in particular?" asked Charlotte, raising her eyebrows.

"Mr. Darcy, to own the truth. You may see him, if you walk to Meryton today. His manners are haughty and strange, and I find myself discomposed by him. But, however, we are nearly through with our stay in Town, and then we may find ourselves at home, in comfort and quiet again!"

Charlotte was surprised, for though Lizzy had mentioned him several times in her letters, it had not been with sufficient frequency for her to believe they met very often. She was cautious, however, and saying very little upon that subject, made some inquiries about Netherfield Park. A discussion on the fitting up of the house, the arrangement and re-arrangement of furniture and draperies, and what articles must be purchased or made up new, naturally succeeded, and filled the space of an hour, before the gentlemen called for them. To Elizabeth's surprise, Mr. Darcy attended them into the house.

"Well, ladies, we have finished our business, as you see," Mr. Bennet greeted them. "How d'ye do, Miss Lucas? Girls, I think we had better be getting back to Longbourn."

Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. "I wonder if we might walk," he said.

Five pairs of eyes were turned upon him in surprise.

"The weather is warm today, and I have heard a great deal of the view from Oakham Mount. I thought we might take it in our way, if it lies along our road," he continued coolly.

"Certainly, if you wish it," said Mr. Bennet. "Your coachman can have no difficulty in getting the horses home."

"I must beg you will not allow my walking to deter you from using the carriage," said Mr. Darcy with more warmth. "I am sure one of your daughters is capable of showing me the way."

"Indeed, Papa, I had as soon walk as not, and I am sure Lizzy would rather," said Jane, who was growing quite bold in finding opportunities to be with Mr. Bingley.

"I will gladly accompany the ladies," said Mr. Bingley, "if they will allow me. And so you see, Mr. Bennet, we are very comfortably circumstanced, and you may take the barouche home without any worries."

Mr. Bennet looked briefly at Elizabeth and then at Mr. Darcy.

"Quite so--without any worries. Very well, then. I will go on ahead and give the order for dinner. We will expect you," he said, looking pointedly at Mr. Darcy, "no later than three quarters of an hour from now. It looks as though a storm may be coming in after that, girls; be sure to be home in time, so as not to occasion your father any worry."

This the ladies promised, though Elizabeth thought Mr. Bennet's manner very odd.

"What does my father fear?" she whispered to Charlotte. "Jane and Mr. Bingley may dawdle a little upon the road, but what could keep us that long?"

"Can you not imagine?" whispered Charlotte archly.

Elizabeth began to protest the completeness of her ignorance, but the party rising to go, she was prevented from further conversation. The four young people accordingly set out together, Jane and Mr. Bingley happy in their assurance of relative solitude, Elizabeth in some perplexity, and Mr. Darcy perfectly inscrutable. That gentleman being tall, and Elizabeth a good walker, they had soon outstripped the other two. Elizabeth felt no compunction there, for she was quite sure that Jane and Mr. Bingley had determined to walk for no other reason. Why Mr. Darcy had determined to join them, she could have very little idea, however much knowledge Charlotte might intimate that she possessed.

"Miss Bennet," he began, "You must be wondering why I wished to walk."

"No, sir," she said truthfully enough, for all her wonder had been centered upon her friend. "Walking these lanes is so great a pleasure to me that, though a little surprised at your wishing it, I must find it more natural than otherwise."

"It cannot have escaped your quick wit," said he, "that I have a particular desire for whatever may give you pleasure."

This was very particular--she was surprised--amazed--and silent.

"In short, Miss Bennet, you must allow me to tell you how much I admire and love you. My affections, long determined, you must have suspected--"

"Suspected!" cried she, stopping her walk in her astonishment. "You must believe, sir, that I have suspected no such thing."

It was now Mr. Darcy's turn to be surprised. "Not suspect! How can that be possible? I will confess, I endeavored to hide my preference at first, but you were so open, so encouraging, that I must have long made myself very plain."

"I wonder that you can say so," cried the lady, vexed. "I assure you, sir, that your sentiments have been as unknown as unwished by me!"

"Unknown? Miss Bennet, you have given me--" Mr. Darcy broke off suddenly, his lips compressed tightly.

"I must beg, sir, that if you have some charge to make against me, you will do so honestly, like a gentleman," Elizabeth demanded, white with anger. When he did not reply, she persisted, "What encouragement have I ever given you?"

"I must have been mistaken," said Mr. Darcy very coldly, his face set like marble. "I have...misunderstood your manner towards me."

"Then allow me, Mr. Darcy, to be exceedingly plain. I have never sought to recommend myself to you; I gave you no conscious encouragement. If I gave you any other kind I am very sorry for it. Indeed, we have hardly spoken but to quarrel!" she finished, her perplexity for the moment overcoming her anger.

"Then--" he paused suddenly, and for a moment she thought he would speak no more. "You have not been wishing my addresses?"

Elizabeth could not determine if he were pained or angry. "No, sir. I was entirely unaware of your sentiments, nor was I attempting to engage your affections," she said coldly, biting back harsher replies.

For a moment Mr. Darcy was still and silent. The sun was declining and a cold dusk wind blew. Elizabeth shivered.

"I beg your pardon; you are chilled. Let us walk."

They went on in perfect silence for some time. Elizabeth was revolving all their relationship in her mind. How could he think her manner encouraging? She had so plainly disliked him. And yet as her memories passed before her, she began to feel herself in error. His eyes always upon her--there was very little other explanation there; she herself had never found one. Their vexatious quarrels--had they not a little of the air of Miss Bingley's flirting? She was suddenly sensible that her own attitude towards him, defiant and teasing, must have been perceived as flirtatious encouragement, and even as she was angry at the vanity that could so assume, she was embarrassed at having been the cause of such a mistake. Unreasonably embarrassed, she told herself, but still she felt some admixture of penitence with her fury. When they reached the house, she left him with a cold farewell, and went at once to her room, where she threw herself upon the bed.

When Jane came in a quarter of an hour later, she found Lizzy crying.

"Lizzy! Whatever is the matter?"

"Oh, Jane," cried Elizabeth, laughing a little, "Now it is your turn, I suppose. I am well, I am well. Only--Jane, the strangest thing has happened. Mr. Darcy was on the point of offering for me this afternoon! Had you any idea? All these weeks--he has argued with me, disapproved of me, glowered at me--and he believed me to be encouraging him. Oh! What pride must possess him, for him to believe every woman in love with him!"

"Lizzy," reproved Jane mildly, "not every woman, surely."

"Jane, have I given him anything that could be called encouragement by a reasonable man? And yet he dares charge me with it!"

"Some people do not understand your teasing, Lizzy," said Jane, sitting down beside her.

"I have been made sensible of that this afternoon," replied she grimly. "I almost hate the wretched man!"

"Hate him! Surely that is a little severe."

"How could I not hate him? What he must think of me, to believe that I would have him upon those terms--a regard unwillingly coaxed forth from the great Mr. Darcy by the perseverance and flirtation of a coquette! It cannot gratify my vanity very much, nor can I think well of him for liking me," she added darkly.

"I am sure he did not think you a coquette. He admires your playful and sportive manner, that is all. And as to his mistaking your affections, perhaps he is a little too used to having his own way. There is certainly some admixture of pride in his presumption--but perhaps it is not to an improper degree."

"There--I knew my Jane would scold me back into temper again," said Elizabeth, smiling and drying her eyes. "Oh, Jane, if I cannot be cross with him I am sure I shall feel sorry for him. He was either very angry or very disappointed."

"Perhaps he was both," said Jane very softly.

Elizabeth sighed. "What shall I do now? I cannot dine with him! I am sure I cannot."

"It would be better if you would come," replied Jane doubtfully.

"I am sure I could not eat if I did. You must tell them all I have a headache. He will understand. Mrs. Hill can send me up a tray."

"Very well. My poor Lizzy! I wish it might come out as well for you as it did for me. This will not come right by dinnertime--but no matter, it will all come right in the end, you will see. I wish you could like him, Lizzy."

"You would not wish me to marry anybody I could not love, Jane!" cried Elizabeth in surprise.

"Oh! certainly not. Only I wish you could like him, that is all. Poor man! And then it would make me so happy to see you married to a friend of Mr. Bingley's, and to know that our frequent meetings were thereby secured! Forgive me, dearest; I do not mean to trouble you with my worries. Only I shall miss you. You will come with us, will you not, on our wedding trip? I could not bear to be without you."

"Oh, Jane, of course I shall. I will be very glad to do it. Mr. Bingley shall be a brother to me, and if, when I marry, my husband does not know him, they shall soon be friends."

The sisters then shared an embrace, and Jane, dressing quickly for dinner, went downstairs.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

A period of solitude and reflection restored much of Elizabeth's composure. Her own behavior she considered with some regret, but could not greatly blame it. She might have been more demure, certainly, but it was not in her nature. It was Mr. Darcy's pride that had led him into his error. She could pity, but could hardly pardon him, and his anger towards her would help him over his hurt.

"And so," she said to her sister, when Jane was preparing for bed that night, "I have this consolation: that his disappointment and his anger will doubtless prevent his coming to us any more, and then he and I shall both be spared some unhappiness. Disagreeable man!"

"I hope you will not avoid him entirely. He is to stand up with Mr. Bingley, you know," said her sister with a conscious blush.

"I will put up with anybody you choose, on that day. But I hope I may not see much more of him once we return to London. There, now: one day in the barouche, and I shall be returned to peace."

The night, however, destroyed her serenity, for a heavy snow fell all throughout it, and it was impossible for them to return to London the next morning, as they had planned. They must all spend the day indoors, and together.

"Come, Lizzy," said Jane to her, when they had resolved thus much together, "you had better come down to breakfast, and face it with a good courage. You will have to be with him in the barouche all the way back to London in any event, when we return. I am sure Mr. Darcy is not angry with you; it was but a brief reaction. It is difficult for a man to accept a rejection well."

"I am not afraid of him, Jane! I am angry with him."

"For being in love with you?" asked she, smiling.

"For his presumption principally, and his pride, and not a little for his being so unreasonably angry with me, as it must be due entirely to those faults I have just mentioned."

"As for his pride, and his presumption, I am sure he will be sorry for them now. But I cannot believe that he is angry with you."

"Indeed? I wonder at your disbelief, for my offenses have been numerous indeed!" cried Elizabeth playfully. "I have dared to find fault with him, and not to fall in love with him, and at last to reject him."

"You do not really think in that fashion, I am sure. He was angry because he was hurt and disappointed, when he had every expectation of success."

"Yes, and well-deserved expectations too; how could I not be in love with him, when I quarreled with every word he said? Yes, he is quite right to be angry."

"Lizzy, be sensible," scolded Jane. "I am sure his anger was only temporary; it would be very unreasonable for it to persist. If he is still angry today you have my leave to be as cross with him as you like," she finished, smiling.

"I shall not like him merely for not being cross," said she saucily.

"I shall not expect you to. You have only to inhabit the same house for one day, which is surely a great deal easier. And I can at least preserve you from the pain of a tete-a-tete," said Jane, smiling consciously. "Poor Lizzy! I have left you too much alone of late. But I never suspected."

"Do not trouble yourself on my account. I would not spoil your happiness for all the Mr. Darcys in the world," said Elizabeth cheerfully. "I can easily take up a book, you know. I will do very well; you needn't worry for me."

In the event, neither of them need have worried at all. Mr. Darcy had breakfasted early and, by the time the ladies came down, had already excused himself to Mr. Bennet, and settled into the library to attend to his correspondence. Mr. Bennet soon went away to his book room to settle his own affairs of business, and Elizabeth immediately after settled herself at the pianoforte at the other end of the room, where by her presence and her music she might give the lovers some privacy for conversation. In this way she secured some solitude for herself as well, as the sounds of the pianoforte must warn Mr. Darcy of her presence, and she was sure that he would avoid her so far as it was possible.

On this last point, however, she was entirely in error, for she had not been playing an hour when Mr. Darcy entered the room. Jane and Mr. Bingley greeted him smilingly, but as he did not join them, he was soon forgotten in favor of the fitting up of Netherfield. He stalked unsmilingly about the room, moving uneasily from window to window, examining Mary's watercolors upon the wall, and at last stopping by the instrument. Elizabeth lifted her chin and continued playing without taking any notice of him, though he stood by her side for several minutes.

At last he turned away and began to rifle through the music kept in a cupboard close by the pianoforte. She had been working on a rather difficult piece in order to occupy her mind, but Mr. Darcy's presence agitated her, and when she reached the end with tolerable credit, she set it aside. Mr. Darcy immediately placed another song before her, and requesting very formally that she would play it, instantly turned away.

Elizabeth was all astonishment. She could not understand his reasons for interference, and was still too angry with him to care to do so. The piece was, however, before her, and as it was a favorite of hers, she had no objection to playing it, and began upon it at once. Mr. Darcy remained close to the pianoforte, evidently with the intention of turning the pages, for the piece was long. When she had nearly finished the first sheet, he drew near; his outstretched arm turned over the leaf--and she beheld upon the stand before her, a neat missive, properly folded and carefully sealed.

She could now scarcely conceal her astonishment. Her eyes went at once to his face, but his gaze was bent upon the paper.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth; I have turned the wrong page," said he in the sudden silence. "There, I believe that is correct."

His voice startled her into comprehension and acquiescence; her fingers began automatically to play again, and Jane and Mr. Bingley, who had looked up to determine the cause of the disturbance, returned peacefully to their conversation. Elizabeth, determining at once that it would be wiser to play a few more pieces before escaping with the letter, and that she was too curious to do so, finished the song, playing very ill, and making some small excuse to the company, departed hastily to her room.

Once there she made up the fire, wrapped herself tightly in her shawl, settled comfortably in her chair, and read as follows.

Longbourn, Wednesday

Miss Elizabeth Bennet,

I must write to you this morning in order to beg your pardon. When I think of what I said yesterday I am heartily ashamed of myself. I remember all too well your reproaches to me in London, and if I had attended to them sooner I should have spared us both much difficulty. I must confess that I am a creature of pride. My wealth and my family's consequence has brought me regard that I am convinced I should not have otherwise. I blush to write it--but I really believed that any woman would be glad to have me. You have shown me how worthless were all my pretensions to please a woman worth pleasing.

I can only hope that you can forgive me the dreadful aspersions I cast on your character. Excuse is impossible, but I must attempt some explanation. I did not believe you so lost to all principle as to think that my wealth and social position alone would cause you to accept me, though I was vain enough to think they would carry some weight with you. Please believe that I am speaking from experience rather than pride when I say that I am not quite fool enough to fall in love with a woman merely because she is charming and encouraging.

The truth, Miss Bennet, however little I wish to own it, is that I had formed an attachment to you already, and my error lay in supposing that you had perceived it. Any woman of sense would have rejected a man who, after forming some preference for her, neglected to recommend himself to her or to her family as entirely as I did. The sad truth is that I thought so very well of myself as to believe that you would accept me even under such pitiful circumstances.

I hardly dare to hope, Miss Bennet, that you will forgive me. Nay, I shall not deceive myself; I hope for more than forgiveness. I have been a fool--I have been vain. I have offended against all ideas of womanly dignity. But if you can forgive me, is it possible that there is still some chance for me? I have a great admiration and regard for you, and I find that I cannot choose but make one last attempt. I must know my fate. If you would allow me, Miss Bennet, to attempt to pay you those attentions which are certainly your due, to recommend myself to you and to your family, and to give you and them a better opportunity of acquainting yourselves with my character, I should be the happiest man alive.

I shall not press you. I have received one refusal already, and it would be ungentlemanly of me to persevere further. Silence on your part will end this subject between us forever. But if you can find it in your heart to admit me to your friendship, I should be eternally grateful for the opportunity to attempt something more.

Yours sincerely,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

When Elizabeth had finished reading this missive, she sat for some time staring blankly into the fire. That Mr. Darcy should communicate with her in any way was necessarily surprising; that this should be the import of his missive was very nearly more than her mind could grasp. She read it again more slowly, and found herself with the inevitable question: what ought she to do about it?

Silence, he had assured her, would end the subject. She had only to do nothing to silence him forever. And yet there was something in her that could not like that course of action. She found that his apology had been quite as abject as his offence warranted, and all her anger at his presumption had died in pity and wonder. Somewhat to her surprise, she forgave him.

She had not liked him very well before his proposal, that much was certain. His manners were haughty, and his proud speeches irritating. And yet he had owned his wrong, and she was frankly curious to see how he would comport himself now. Added to this was the natural gratitude arising from finding herself beloved, and the pleasure of finding herself approved by a man of stern judgment and strict principle.

She considered his character. She knew nothing that was evil, beyond his pride. There was certainly much of good in him; his careful guardianship of his sister and benevolent care for his tenants was proof enough of that. In a man of such substantial property, the happiness of very many people must depend upon his conduct.

She rose and paced about the room, attempting to sort her disorganized thoughts into some semblance of reason. She knew no ill of him, beyond what he had owned and would attempt to rectify. She knew much good of him. But could she love him? She smiled wryly as she acknowledged to herself that she scarcely knew him well enough to answer the question. His proposal of marriage was a proof that she had misunderstood him in every particular. He had been affectionate where she thought him cold, and attached where she had believed him disapproving. She could not hope to know her own heart towards him without knowing the man himself.

She frowned and returned to the fireside. She had some inclination, then, to reply to him in the affirmative. But had she any right? She had no wish to give him false hope.

She puzzled the matter over, attempting vainly to determine her course of action. She sorely wanted advice, but from whom could she seek it? There was no one to whom she could apply, save perhaps Jane or her father. Jane's tender heart, she was certain, would advise her to give Mr. Darcy another opportunity. Her father, she feared, would only laugh at her. She thought of Charlotte, but the roads to the village were impassible. She stood again, and paced the room, wishing for her Aunt Gardiner's advice. Then she thought of the drive back to London, and the near impossibility of making the journey under such circumstances. Some answer she must give him before they returned, or determine to make him none. Her manner towards him tonight must settle it all. She could not refuse to dine two evenings in a row; if she did so, he would certainly conclude that it was her answer.

At last, however, she determined that she must seek her father's counsel. It was not likely to be of much assistance, but her conscience represented to her all the impropriety of taking so serious a step without some authoritative advice, and therefore she summoned her courage, and went to her father's study.

"Well, Lizzy, and what can I do for you today?" asked Mr. Bennet, giving her a shrewd look as she entered.

"I want your advice, Papa," she answered, seating herself near his chair.

"Oh? A matter of some importance, is it?" inquired he, genially.

"Yes." She paused for a moment. "I have received, and declined, a proposal of marriage from Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows and set his book aside.

"Indeed? Well, you do not seem to need much advice in that matter," he remarked.

"No, but in another. The manner of his proposal was...not very genteel," she explained. "He had mistaken my attitude towards him, and believed me to be encouraging where I was entirely in ignorance of his feelings. He was surprised, and displeased, at my answer, and though he did not express himself as fully as he might, we quarreled. He gave me a letter this morning, in which he has apologized."

She handed over the missive as she spoke.

Mr. Bennet paused to consider. "Do you wish me to read this?"

"If you think it necessary. I shall keep nothing from you, Papa," she replied virtuously.

"Very correct, Lizzy, very correct," he said with a wry smile. "But I shall not read it. I trust your judgment, my dear."

Elizabeth frowned as Mr. Bennet returned her letter to her. "That might be inadvisable in this case. I seem to have erred a great deal in my judgments regarding Mr. Darcy."

"In what way, my dear?"

"I had no notion that he was growing attached to me."

"Mmm. Yes, that did escape you."

Elizabeth glanced up, startled.

"Oh, yes, the matter has been clear to me for quite some time. He has a cold, haughty manner, however, and you a playful one, so that you must both reproach yourselves for your failure to understand each other. Well, and what do you want my advice on? Surely the matter is ended?" Mr. Bennet reached for his book.

"There is more in the letter, Papa. He has apologized very handsomely--asked if I can forgive him--and asked if there is no hope at all."

"Ah." Mr. Bennet looked suddenly very tired. "And is there?"

"I wish I could be certain." Elizabeth rose and walked about.

"I see. You do not wish to refuse him entirely?"

"I hardly know."

"My dear Elizabeth, you cannot suppose me to be more informed as to your heart than you yourself are." Mr. Bennet smiled genially and shook his head.

"It is not very much a matter of the heart, sir," replied Elizabeth slowly. "I do not now love him. I hardly know if I could. It seems plain that I have misunderstood his character from start to finish."

"Mmm. And you think, if you were to learn to know him, you might like him?"

"How can I tell?" Elizabeth shrugged desperately.

"Perhaps, my dear, I might put it another way. Have you any reason not to give Mr. Darcy his dismissal?"

Elizabeth considered. "I suppose there are a few," she said at last, slowly.

Mr. Bennet's countenance showed his surprise. "And they are?"

"His care for his sister--my aunt Gardiner was right when she said there are few brothers who would be so attentive to a sister left in his guardianship. He is a kind and caring master, and that must mean a great deal to a very large number of people in his case."

Mr. Bennet pondered the truth of this remark without comment.

"I will confess myself very curious indeed to see how he acquits himself," she owned, with more of her usual playfulness of manner. "I can hardly imagine him less proud. I am sure it would be very entertaining."

Mr. Bennet smiled wryly. "You are certain, my dear, that you are not at all influenced by the size of his estate, or the amount of his annual income?"

"I wonder that you can say so, sir," cried Elizabeth in surprise. "I should hardly care to have an unpleasant man for a husband, however many thousands a year he might possess!"

"Indeed. In truth, my dear, with your fortune, despite your low connections--no, no, my dear, you must allow me to speak--despite, as I say, your low connections, you can quite expect to catch a man with somewhere between five and ten thousands a year. Dear old Mrs. Smith certainly took quite a burden off my conscience when she enabled you to marry for love. Very well. If you are determined not to dismiss him out of hand, then we must principally consider your reputation."

"My reputation, sir?"

"Indeed. It is not very flattering to a lady to have a gentleman fluttering around her for half the season, and not to marry him in the end. Society reasons that it must be either the fault of the gentleman or of the lady. But that is a matter for him to explain to myself." Mr. Bennet straightened in his chair.

"Very well, Elizabeth, you have asked for my advice, and I shall give it to you. You feel some inclination for allowing Mr. Darcy to endeavor to attach you. Ten to one it is very little more than idle curiosity, and you will soon grow tired of the fellow and send him away, but there can be no objection to him calling from time to time in the meanwhile. I will find an opportunity to speak with him in the course of the evening. Oh, you need not fret; I shall be very discreet. I shall tell him that he is forgiven--no more than that from you. If you wish to convey any other message it must fall to yourself. I will ask him what his plans are, and ensure that he does nothing that could compromise you."

Elizabeth laughed. "I will own I am surprised, sir. I thought you would like it less."

"Very probably I would, if I thought there were much in it. It is very flattering to a young lady to be liked, and it is natural to her curiosity to want to see the result. You will require a great deal in a gentleman, Lizzy, to be able to wed him, and it is a hundred to one that the fellow will come nowhere near your expectations. I shall make it clear to him that he has a chance and no more, and six weeks from today you will both have forgotten it all."

With this cavalier and rather unsatisfactory assurance Lizzy had nonetheless to be satisfied, and left her father to his books.

Elizabeth departed her father's study with a sensation of dismay. She had gone to him with no very clear ideas, but her father's decision had taken her aback.

"He does not," she said to herself, "seem to be taking the matter very seriously."

She let herself into the schoolroom. She could be certain of privacy there, and the room's long narrow shape was ideal for a little walking. She glanced longingly out of the window, but the snow was piled on the ground and still falling. She would have to take her exercise, and compose herself as best she could, indoors. The latter she found a difficult task, and the hour to dress for dinner found her still engaged upon it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Dinner that night was an awkward and a strained meal. Mr. Darcy said very little, and even Elizabeth's usual vivaciousness must feel a little check in such difficult circumstances. Mr. Bennet appeared darkly amused, and Jane and Mr. Bingley were too busy talking and smiling to each other to give much notice to their companions.

When the ladies moved, Elizabeth broached the subject uppermost in her mind to Jane at once. Though the matter was still too new for comfort, she felt she owed it to the sister who had borne with her through the alarms of the previous evening, to acquaint her with the events of the present day, and she had seen too much of Mr. Bingley's behavior, to expect that the gentlemen would be long in joining them.

Jane wondered, but not so much as Elizabeth had. To her affectionate heart it must seem natural that her dear sister should be an object of regard to more than herself, and that Mr. Darcy should be sufficiently attached to make a further attempt at securing her sister's hand.

"And have you really no idea of your own feelings?" inquired she.

"In truth, Jane, I am not sure I have any idea of anything regarding that gentleman," replied Elizabeth. "I have misunderstood him so thoroughly that I feel I must begin over again, and acquaint myself with him anew. There are several things in his favor, to be sure: his good character as regards his sister, and his generosity to his tenants, and then," with a sudden arch smile, "there is the matter of his superior taste in ladies."

Jane laughed. "I think it is very good of you, Lizzy, to give him another chance. I am sure Papa is right. And you may yet like him."

"I rather hope I do. At any rate I mean to satisfy my curiosity about him," replied she playfully.

It was less than a quarter of an hour later that Mr. Bingley entered the room.

"I can see that I have interrupted some sisterly tete-a-tete," said he, smiling, as he came to sit by Jane.

"It does not follow that the interruption must be unwelcome," said Elizabeth, smiling herself, though she glanced in perplexity at the door closed behind him.

"Ah--your father and Mr. Darcy have gone to Mr. Bennet's study. There is some matter of business they wish to discuss, apparently. My own affairs being so well settled, I was let off, and allowed to join the ladies."

"Very fortunate for you," said Elizabeth laughing.

"Come now, Charles, you do not really detest your business?" said Jane mildly.

"Only when it keeps me from pleasanter pursuits," replied he gallantly.

Elizabeth laughed, and rising from her chair took a book from the table, and found her place in it. She settled herself comfortably by the fire, close enough to be a proper chaperone but not near enough to overhear. Their affairs were settled, and only the strictest demands of propriety need be attended to. Jane's heart could be no more given than it was now.

Nevertheless, as the moments ticked by, Elizabeth could not avoid some agitation, or prevent herself from wondering what was going forward in her father's study.

Mr. Darcy followed Mr. Bennet down the passage into the drawing room, a trifle discomposed. His reception had not been very warm. He castigated himself inwardly. Why should he suppose that the father had any more awe of consequence than the daughter? Mrs. Bennet certainly--he shrugged. But for all his occasional want of propriety, Mr. Bennet was a sensible man, more intelligent than Mr. Darcy had supposed, and hardly mean enough to cater to a Darcy, only because he was rich and well connected. Mr. Bennet had agreed to the courtship, however, though he had appeared more amused than pleased, with the stipulation that Mr. Darcy was not to commit himself to any course of action which would involve Elizabeth's reputation. As the gentleman had already considered that, there had been no difficulty there.

"We have before us a period of some immunity, I think," he had said. "Mr. Bingley is often with Miss Bennet; it cannot be surprising that I should pay calls with my friend. When you have returned into Hertfordshire, it will excite no remark if I come to pay Mr. Bingley a visit at Netherfield. As he will be always at the Bennet house, it cannot surprise anyone if his friend should be often with him. And then I suppose that Miss Elizabeth is to accompany her sister on their wedding trip, which is to bring them to Pemberley. If, sir, I have been unable to make an impression upon your daughter's heart by that time, I shall withdraw."

The disinterested concern for Elizabeth's wellbeing evinced by that chain of reasoning had seemed to please Mr. Bennet more than anything else.

Mr. Darcy sighed and stepped into the drawing room.

His eyes sought her at once, and found such a sight as must hearten him. Elizabeth had drawn her chair near the fire, and was reading by its light, a chestnut curl falling across her cheek as she bent to catch the last words on the page. The domestic scene, populated at once by his imagination with a little Darcy on the hearthrug, and two tugging at their mother's skirts, was enough to cheer him. The sound of the door opening had caught her attention; she straightened, looked up--looked, he believed for a moment, for him--their eyes met--she colored and looked away, but she was smiling. More encouragement he could not expect from one night, and he felt at once that all his pains with the father had been amply repaid.

He joined her by the fire, and asked what she was reading. The volume, absently closed and placed to one side, was produced, and she showed her place in it. It was a volume of Shakespeare's sonnets; would he--with a little blush, and a lift of the chin--be so good as to read to them? He would be happy to oblige.

Mr. Darcy had a pleasant voice, and he read well. Elizabeth found herself less surprised than she would have been two days ago that he could read with so much expression. In the text he seemed to forget a little of himself and his dignity, and under cover of the words Elizabeth watched him, while he could not but feel her eyes upon him and be pleased.

Mr. Bennet, to Elizabeth's surprise, stayed the whole evening in the drawing room. When Mr. Darcy had put the book by, Mr. Bennet began the conversation.

"You read very well, Mr. Darcy."

"My parents were very particular as to my instruction in that capacity," said he, a little stiffly. Then, softening as he looked at Elizabeth, he added, "They were very fond of such entertainments in the evenings."

"It is a pleasant way of passing a cold winter evening, to be sure," said Mr. Bennet, "though I think you will find Lizzy has not been much indulged in it."

"We read aloud sometimes, Papa, though it is generally only a novel," said Elizabeth.

"Mmm, yes." Mr. Bennet considered briefly how few evenings he passed with the whole of his noisy family, and how much good he might likely have done had he been willing to take a little more trouble in his domestic obligations.

"There are certainly many in Society who look down on the humble novel," said Mr. Darcy uncertainly, considering the lady's remark rather than the father's reverie.

"I cannot agree with them, sir," said Elizabeth. "Where else can such faithful representations of human characters be found? Where else is the language so genteel, the invention so fanciful, and the moral so painlessly imparted?"

"I must confess, Miss Bennet," said Mr. Darcy, smiling, "that I think as you do. An unmixed diet of novels would doubtless be very bad for any young person, but I own that I have enjoyed several myself, and that I do not discourage my sister from reading them."

Elizabeth stopped herself from replying that it was generous of him. "Surely a great deal of good may be gained from a novel, Mr. Darcy, especially by a young person. If nothing else, it fills her time harmlessly. A young lady without sisters must be a little solitary at times."

This was too true for Mr. Darcy to argue with, and when he had acknowledged the merit so far, the subject was allowed to drop. Mr. Bennet soon began again,

"What say you, Mr. Darcy--shall we be able to return to London on the morrow?"

"I should imagine so," said he calmly; "a good deal of the snow was melted before sundown, and as it is tolerably warm I imagine it will continue to do so. If it should freeze tonight, however, we will have to wait until the sun can melt the ice on the roads."

"Very true, sir, very true. And the weather has been so odd this year that I hardly know what to expect. We shall hope, however, for the best."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Posted on 2014-04-24

Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth had very little opportunity of speech before the next morning, but he did succeed in taking her to one side in the drawing room that evening.

"Well, Lizzy, Mr. Darcy has acquitted himself very well. He had it all worked out, it seems. He means to pay court to you under cover of attending his friend, and promises to interfere with you no further if he cannot win your heart by the end of their wedding tour. A fair bet, eh?"

Elizabeth was too much distressed to make her father much answer, and he, perceiving her discomfort, had not pressed her for one.

Mr. Bennet was, in truth, a little agitated by the subject. He had begun upon it lightly enough, thinking it more a joke than anything else, and meaning by his own seriousness to force one or the other of them into a retreat. To his surprise and discomfiture, he had found the lady in such confusion as to be incapable of a firm refusal, and the gentleman too persistent to accept all but the firmest. Mr. Bennet was not sure that he had not complicated the situation. He owned to himself that he had been a rather negligent father, though there had not been, at Longbourn, much to neglect. He considered with some complacency the opportunity to discharge his obligations by acquainting himself with Mr. Bingley and, it seemed likely, Mr. Darcy, in Hertfordshire. Darcy, he reflected, was not a bad fellow, though he was by no means prepared to lose his favorite daughter to him.

Mr. Bennet's hopes for the weather were justified by the next morning dawning warm and still, the snow quite melted, and sunny enough to hope that the inevitable mud would soon dry. They breakfasted early and were on their way at a suitable hour. The party was divided as before, Jane and Bingley taking their opportunity of being alone together, and Mr. Darcy exerting himself to be civil to his two guests. As Elizabeth spent more time in his company, her nerves settled, and she became tolerably comfortable again, and even able to talk with much of her usual cheer and some of her usual spirit.

As the day wore on, the sun came out and it soon grew so warm inside the barouche that they determined to open the hood at the next station. When this was done, they had a delightful view, and Elizabeth exclaimed on the beauties of the fine day and the countryside.

"You have not spent very much time riding in open carriages, I take it, Miss Bennet?" said Mr. Darcy.

"No, sir; our family is large, and we are most easily accommodated in an old-fashioned coach."

"Then perhaps you will permit me to show you some of the pleasanter views around London. If your father will consent, I should be happy to take you and your sisters out at any convenient time. Mr. Bingley, I am sure, could be prevailed upon to drive your sister," he added, with a smile.

"Certainly. I am sure a country drive would agree with Miss Grey's health," said Mr. Bennet drily.

Mr. Darcy only bowed. "Naturally, sir. Do you have many pleasure excursions in Hertfordshire, Miss Bennet, during the warm months?"

"A few, though not what I would call very many. I am very fond of walking myself, and Oakham Mount is a popular destination. I believe it was very common at one time to take picnic lunches there."

Mr. Darcy flinched.

"You are not fond of picnic lunches, sir?"

"I will own that they do not hold a great attraction for me."

"Oh?"

Mr. Darcy sighed. If he intended to attach Elizabeth, reserve was clearly not the appropriate method. "A lady relative of mine developed an unfortunate passion for picnics at one time. Her method of organizing the event was extremely elaborate, resulting in all the discomforts of the outdoors and none of the pleasures thereof. We looked perfectly ridiculous," he finished with a disgusted curl of his lip.

Elizabeth could not help laughing. "I cannot allow you, Mr. Darcy, to remain under the impression that all picnics are organized in such a fashion! We will have to manage one of our own to Oakham Mount when you are at Netherfield. I assure you, it is possible to eat a pleasant meal of cold chicken and ham out of doors without six footmen and a tasseled parasol."

Mr. Darcy startled at the accurate description, and then smiled. "I shall place myself entirely in your capable hands, madam."

The trip went on pleasantly. Elizabeth laughed a little at herself for riding about in all the borrowed splendor of Mr. Darcy's barouche, especially as they drew near London, and the elegant vehicle drew the eyes of many passersby. They reached Sloane Street in very good time, and Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were, according to their previous plan, to dine with the Bennets. The gentlemen therefore entered the house with the ladies, and the whole family were soon at dinner. The meal completed, the sexes did not remain separate long, for there were sufficiently powerful attractions in the drawing room, though Mr. Darcy perforce concealed his eagerness better than Mr. Bingley.

When the gentlemen joined the ladies, Mr. Bingley went at once to Jane's side, and a charitably blind eye was turned to them by the rest of the company. Mr. Darcy, with a little more circumspection, went to the worktable where the ladies were seated, and stopped by Mary, who was sketching.

"That is a very handsome drawing, Miss Mary," said he. "Is this, which I see upon the wall, yours?"

"It is, sir," answered Mary, pleased, "it was done last autumn, and brought from home to be framed."

"Is it the view from Oakham Mount? Your sisters were kind enough to show that local beauty to me while we were in Hertfordshire," he explained, as she started.

"It is indeed," she said, smiling at his explanation. "A very handsome view; I am not sure that I have done it justice."

"You must be the best judge of that, as I have not seen it in leaf. It does look like a very pleasant place for a picnic."

"Oh! I am sure a picnic at Oakham Mount would be a delightful thing," cried Mrs. Bennet, overhearing, "We must certainly have one. They have scarcely held them since our youth, Mr. Bennet; it must be done again. We shall lead the way. Perhaps after the wedding, eh, Mr. Bingley?"

"It could just as easily be managed before, ma'am," said Elizabeth, when Mr. Bingley did not hear.

"Nay, I am sure it would be more pleasant with Mr. Bingley to hand," said Mrs. Bennet, with a knowing wink.

Elizabeth sighed. Was her father determined to keep her mother in the dark upon every possible point? "Mama, Mr. Bingley thinks of coming into the neighborhood before the wedding."

This repetition of his name had finally drawn Mr. Bingley's attention from its preferred object, and, half laughing and half ashamed at his own inattention, he agreed with Elizabeth's statement. "Indeed, ma'am, I have determined upon taking Netherfield at Easter. I shall therefore be in the neighborhood, and at your disposal for any necessary arrangements or any schemes of pleasure."

"I am delighted to hear it, Mr. Bingley!" cried Mrs. Bennet. "How very pleasant to have you for a neighbor. I take it, then, that you have determined upon Netherfield Park?"

"I found it a very pleasant house, and as my chief advisors--" here he looked at Jane, who colored prettily--"have recommended me to take it, I have determined to do so."

"Very good, Mr. Bingley, very good. I am prodigiously pleased! We must have a large dinner to welcome you to the neighborhood. We will ask the Lucases--Lady Lucas will be very annoyed to have my Jane married before her Charlotte, I daresay, but she will overcome her sentiment--and my sister Phillips--she will be very pleased to meet you--and Mrs. Long--she will be jealous on her niece's account, of course, but that is neither here nor there-- "

Elizabeth looked towards Mr. Darcy and saw him assuming a cold and indifferent countenance. Ashamed of her mother, and angry with him, she interrupted the flow of the lady's conversation with some trivial question regarding a bit of lace Mrs. Bennet had been talking of earlier, as suitable for Jane's wedding gown. "She must have one made specially, you know, my dear, it is very fashionable, very fashionable indeed. It will be expected."

Having turned her mother's mind into a harmless course of rambling for a few minutes, Elizabeth turned her attention back to Mr. Darcy, who had walked away to the fireplace. "Very well," she said to herself, "if he cannot bear my family, let him go. I did not ask for his attentions." A few moments, however, brought him back to the worktable.

"Do you ride tomorrow, Miss Elizabeth?"

"I believe so. Jane is very fond of the exercise, and I usually join her in it when the weather is fine. I am growing a better horsewoman, though I think I shall always prefer to walk."

"You do not seem very fond of walking in Hyde Park."

Elizabeth smiled. "I walk for solitary comfort, Mr. Darcy, or for a little quiet conversation with a few close friends. I find I can only be amiable to all about me in a ball room if I have a little time to be unsociable."

"Ah!" said Mr. Darcy, and was silent for several moments. "I find this difficult to reconcile," he said at last, "with your objection to a lack of general affability in a young man. Are the sexes so different that reserve is to be allowed only to a woman?"

"Not at all!" cried Elizabeth warmly. "I do not demand that every person shall be amiable beyond their capabilities, their temper, or even their liking. No, I ask only that they shall choose a suitable place for their solitary, as well as for their amiable, moods. A man may be as unsociable as he likes, on a solitary country road. But if he will go to a ballroom, Mr. Darcy--I cannot help thinking he ought to dance."

"I believe you have the right of it, Miss Bennet. But what will you say to that poor fellow, who is invited all over the place, and cannot refuse without offense?"

"That he does very little better, to accept and still give offense; in fact, he would do better to stay home, for then he might at least have his own comfort into the bargain."

"He would be considered very proud if he did."

"He may be considered very proud in any event," replied she with an arch look.

Mr. Darcy smiled. "Perhaps he should take your advice, and walk alone in a country lane, until he feels more amiable."

"It is an unfailing prescription. I recommend it to everybody with whom I meet."

"I am glad to hear it. I should be sorry to think that you wished always to be dancing," said he, feelingly.

She glanced up at him, startled. Did he think her an amusement-mad flirt, a mere demimondaine?

"Certainly not," said she, a little more brusquely than she had intended. "When in Rome, one must do as the Romans, you know, but I am very fond of the rational pleasures. They must always be the most reliable source of delight, after an agreeable domestic circle."

Mr. Darcy appeared very pleased with this response, and for a moment she thought he would continue the subject, but he appeared to think better of it, and a few moments later begged for a little music. He attended Elizabeth to the pianoforte, turned her pages for her, and was generally civil, escaping any particularity by extending the same courtesy to Kitty, who played in her turn. Lydia had not learnt enough yet for public performance, and Jane having her own swain to attend her, he soon returned to a seat where he might attend to the music, and pass occasional remarks to Elizabeth or Kitty. When the gentlemen left late that evening, his adieus were outwardly much cooler than his friend's, but the speaking look in his eyes was for Elizabeth alone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The next morning the young ladies went riding as usual. Elizabeth was not surprised to find that Mr. Darcy joined them, but she was a little surprised to find that he had brought his sister. Neither of the Miss Bingleys were of their party, as they were to ride that day with Mr. Hurst and some of his friends.

"Miss Bennet," said Mr. Darcy in a low voice as they set off, "I must apologize for my failure to introduce my sister previously. When I think of it I am heartily ashamed. I hope you will allow me to remedy the defect now."

"I should be happy, Mr. Darcy," replied she, smiling. Introductions were performed and Mr. Darcy rode quietly beside the two of them for some time, speaking only to encourage his sister to do so. His efforts were necessary enough, for Miss Darcy was painfully shy, and Elizabeth taking pity on the young lady likewise attempted to draw her out. Elizabeth's lively manner, subdued a little so as not to frighten the girl, soon made some progress, and by the time they returned from their ride Miss Darcy had voluntarily made three speeches longer than a single sentence, smiled four times, and laughed once.

When they reached the Bennet home, they were quite naturally all invited in. Miss Darcy looked quite frightened, but her brother only smiled reassuringly and accepted for them both. As it was still early in the day, most of the Bennets were occupied elsewhere; Mr. Bennet was in his library and the younger three sisters were in the schoolroom. Mrs. Bennet, in solitary possession of the morning room, greeted them peevishly.

"Good morning, girls. Did you enjoy your ride? I hope so, for you have left your poor Mama all alone, as you see. I daresay I might get up two hours later and nobody would miss me."

"Now, Mama, I am sure you were very busy all the time we were gone," said Jane soothingly. "Have you not been talking with Mrs. Hodges, and settling the menu? You told me last night you had a great many invitations to reply to, as well."

"Well, I have that," said Mrs. Bennet, somewhat softened. "But I cannot be writing all morning, for my hand grows tired, and it is too early to pay calls. However, we are sure to have a very amusing week--we have invitations for every evening. Jane, you and I must go to Cheapside today and look at those ribbons. The wedding clothes are coming along nicely but it does not do to take one's eyes off of things. People are so disagreeably slow sometimes."

"Mama," said Elizabeth, when Jane had agreed, with a reluctant glance at Mr. Bingley, to accompany her mother, "Will you set me down at my Aunt Gardiner's, since you are going into that part of town?"

"Certainly; we will not need you today, though you were very helpful about the laces. My Elizabeth has a very good eye for lace," she remarked confidentially to Mr. Bingley; "I suppose it is from being so much with my sister Gardiner."

"I wonder if I might be of any service," said Mr. Darcy. "I am going to call on the Gardiners myself."

Mrs. Bennet could only gape at him. That the great Mr. Darcy, whom she had always heard represented as so unpleasant and proud a man, should be going to call on her own brother, who was in trade, was quite beyond her comprehension. Even Elizabeth looked surprised, but she was the first to recover.

"It is very kind of you, Mr. Darcy, but I am sure you need not trouble yourself."

"It is no trouble, madam, I assure you," said Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth thought of how very particular his driving her would look, and cast about for an excuse. Perceiving her distress, the gentleman continued,

"I am sure it would give my sister great pleasure if you would accompany us."

"Indeed it would," murmured Miss Darcy, and though her words were only half audible, her looks were sincere.

"And are you going to call on my aunt, Miss Darcy?" asked Elizabeth, astonished.

"Oh, indeed. I have been once already. My brother and I are delighted with her," said the young lady warmly.

Elizabeth, surprised at this connection, was nonetheless relieved to escape a tete-a-tete, and accepted. Mrs. Bennet insisted on Mr. Bingley's staying to breakfast, and the Darcys being comprehended in the invitation for politeness's sake, were glad enough to stay. Mr. Darcy was not seated near Elizabeth, but he found his time was not wasted, for his sister was near his object, and Elizabeth was able to make Miss Darcy almost comfortable despite Mrs. Bennet's impertinence.

They parted briefly afterwards, Mr. Darcy and his sister going home to change their clothes, and Elizabeth going upstairs to perform the same function, and were soon seated in the Darcy barouche and driving towards Gracechurch Street.

"You seemed surprised, Miss Bennet, at my knowing the Gardiners," said Mr. Darcy, when they were all comfortably settled. "But I hope I am not so proud as to refuse to acknowledge the worth of a good man when once I have noticed him. I have long been delighted with your uncle, and your aunt as well. I can only be ashamed of how long it took me to become sensible of the fact that I could hardly hope for a better acquaintance for my sister than your aunt. Mrs. Gardiner is a very genteel woman, sensible, well-informed, and of excellent principles. She has done me the kindness to allow my sister to call upon her."

Mr. Darcy had chosen his subject well. Elizabeth was pleased with his praise, and pleased with his taking his sister, and her smile was all the reward he sought. If her heart softened a little towards him as well, he would not know it yet. She was in high good humor, and the three of them talked very pleasantly all the way to Gracechurch Street.

Mrs. Gardiner did not seem at all surprised to see her three visitors, despite the earliness of the hour, nor very surprised that, after a quarter of an hour's conversation, Mr. Darcy begged the ladies' leave to go and speak with Mr. Gardiner at his offices. Miss Darcy remained very shy, but as both the other ladies were very gentle with her, she managed well, and when the children came in, she was given such an object of interest as could fail no one. They were petted and bounced and amused for a quarter of an hour until their nurse came to take them for their walk in the park, and left Miss Darcy much more easy for their coming.

"I cannot tell you," said she, "how very grateful I am to you, Mrs. Gardiner, for allowing me to call. I am a little young for social calls, I know, but it is such a pleasure to me."

"You are in a very lonely situation, I am sure, Miss Darcy, without a mother or sister to guide you. However, I am sure you have a number of good friends at school to keep you company."

"Yes. It is a good school," said Georgiana, "and there are several girls there of whom I am very fond. And then my brother is so very good to me, you cannot think! You must not imagine me too solitary."

"I am sure it is not equal to the comfort of a family circle, but we must all be content with what we have upon occasion," said Mrs. Gardiner, smiling.

"Oh yes, certainly. I do not repine. Only sometimes I do wish my brother would marry," she said boldly, looking very hard at the floor.

"If she were an amiable woman, it must be a very great addition to your own comforts as well as those of your brother, I am sure," said Mrs. Gardiner calmly, watching the countenances of both her guests.

"I would so like to live together with my brother again," said Miss Darcy, in a very low tone.

"It must have been very difficult for you, to lose all your family at once when your parents died."

"It was indeed--I will not attempt to conceal it. But there are some very good girls at school with me, and you really must not think me unhappy. However, it is a great comfort to have someone like yourself to whom I can turn for advice. My brother is the best man in the world, I am sure, but there are subjects upon which a lady's counsel is required."

"I am sure that Mr. Darcy, for all his moral excellence, knows nothing of how to trim a gown," said Elizabeth playfully.

"I really did not mean anything so trivial," said Miss Darcy in earnest tones, and looking a little alarmed.

"You must forgive me, Miss Darcy; I am an irrepressible tease," Elizabeth apologized hastily, and thinking of her own recent struggles added, "I am sure that you have perfectly adequate advice as to dress. But there is nothing so comforting to a young woman who is of an age to see her start in life before her, as knowing that she has a good stock of female counselors, who may be applied to for advice on all the difficult and vexing points which must attend her first going into society."

Miss Darcy smiled gratefully at Elizabeth, and Mrs. Gardiner closed the subject by expressing her gratitude for the compliment, and adding, "You must come and call upon me, Miss Darcy, as often as your brother chooses to bring you. I am sure I shall always be pleased to see you."

Mr. Darcy reappeared soon after this, and glancing regretfully at the clock, announced their departure. "I must have Miss Darcy back at school before the dancing master comes. May I carry you as far as Sloane Street, Miss Bennet, or will you wait for your mother?"

Elizabeth expressing a desire to lengthen her visit to Mrs. Gardiner, there was a flurry of adieux, a warm press of the hand from Miss Darcy, one equally warm from her brother, and they were gone.

"Well, Eliza," said Mrs. Gardiner, "You and Mr. Darcy seem on better terms."

Elizabeth colored and owned that they were.

"Perhaps you would not mind, now, if you and he were both asked to dinner the same night."

"Oh, aunt! Do not tease me. I shall make no objection to meeting him."

Mrs. Gardiner was silent for a few moments. "Miss Darcy is correct, Lizzy. It would be a very great addition to their family circle for Mr. Darcy to marry. A single man cannot provide a fit home for a girl of her age, but a married one could. I think I would not have liked to marry a man with children of his own, but I should not have objected to a sister of such sweet manners as Miss Darcy."

"I do not think anybody could."

Mrs. Gardiner was satisfied, and said no more, but Elizabeth could not help indulging in a little meditation as to whether Caroline Bingley's fondness for Miss Darcy would extend to establishing a domestic circle for the young lady.

"It seems," said Elizabeth after a moment, "that Miss Darcy intends to adopt you as a guide."

"It does seem so. I am greatly flattered."

"She could not do better," said Elizabeth warmly. "I am a little surprised, however, to think that she could find no feminine counselors among her own family, which must be more natural."

"Not everyone is blessed with sensible relatives," said Mrs. Gardiner lightly.

Elizabeth laughed. "You need not remind me, Aunt. I suppose she has not many aunts and cousins. I know very little of the family."

"That may alter," said Mrs. Gardiner, thoughtfully. "Nay, Lizzy, I do not tease. I spoke of something more definite. Mr. Darcy has said several things lately which led me to believe that he intends to give a party. He would have a great deal of trouble to do it, without any female relative keeping house for him, but I think he means to try."

"And why should Mr. Darcy invite me?" asked Elizabeth boldly.

"Nay, Lizzy, do not press me too hard, or I may break my resolution not to tease," said Mrs. Gardiner, smiling. "Well, I shall invite you both to dinner on the Wednesday."

Mrs. Bennet called for Elizabeth in due course, and as Jane and her mother occupied themselves with some discussion of the wedding clothes, she was free to spend the drive home in solitary meditation. She considered with pleasure Mr. Darcy's evident determination to show himself a more sociable fellow. She was equally pleased to find that he did not direct his efforts at pleasing to herself alone, but endeavored to recommend himself to her relations, nor did it escape her notice that his closer acquaintance with the Gardiners had evidently predated his proposal to her, or even his determination to propose. It confirmed her impression that his altered manner was not a false one intended to deceive and thereby gain his object, but a change for the better. How long it might last, she would not venture to determine, but for the present she was disposed to be pleased, if cautious.

When the Bennet ladies returned home that day, they were surprised to hear from the servant that Mr. Reynolds was still in the house, and was with Mr. Bennet in his study. One glance at Mary's countenance, however, told the whole story, though she was only too happy to give her explanation. She told the story with many exclamations of joy and apostrophes of rapture, and her older sisters listened to her account with patient pleasure. Mrs. Bennet was all delight to have a second daughter eligibly settled, and everybody was prepared for felicity.

When Mr. Reynolds emerged from the study, however, he seemed less perfectly satisfied than was to be expected from one of the principals in such a cheerful domestic drama. He soon mastered his emotion, however, and spent the rest of the day in Sloane Street, being made much of by his lady and his prospective mother-in-law, though Mr. Bennet did not appear. When at length they separated to dress for dinner, Elizabeth went to seek him in his study, and found him absorbed in a book. He was happy to lay it aside, however, and entreat her to be seated.

"Well, Papa," she began, "it seems that everything is settled well enough for Mary."

"So it does, my dear, so it does."

"I wonder, though."

Mr. Bennet smiled. "Do you, Lizzy?"

"To speak very plain, Papa, I do. You have been in this room all day, and Mr. Reynolds does not seem so happy as I should expect from a fortunate lover. Is there some quarrel? Has he said anything untoward?"

"Not exactly, my dear." Mr. Bennet removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes gently. "Upon my word, this marriage business is more taxing to the parents than anybody would suppose. Mr. Reynolds, Lizzy, is not best pleased with some of the arrangements I have seen fit to make."

"Indeed? Well, I cannot say that Mr. Reynolds impresses me as a man who undervalues his own importance, or one who would be difficult to offend. But what has displeased him?"

"I told him, as I told Mr. Bingley--and happened at one point to mention to Mr. Darcy--that any gentleman who wishes to marry one of my daughters must reside a little while in the same neighborhood with ourselves, in order that we may better know his character."

"That seems reasonable enough, Papa--but then Mr. Reynolds has his business in London," said Elizabeth, choosing not to hear her father's reference to Mr. Darcy.

"He has, and I was willing to allow for it. A month's time, I think, would be sufficient in such a case, and I know he can be a month away from his workshop, for he often stays at country houses for longer periods than that, when he is working on commissions. He was very displeased, my dear, but he agreed to it at last, though insisting that he will not be able to come to us until the fall. And then there are the settlements--I told him quite directly, that I mean to settle Mary's fortune quite closely upon herself and her children. That did not please him very much either," said Mr. Bennet, sighing.

"I see," Elizabeth said, and fell silent with a worried look.

"Well, well, my dear, Mary will be no worse off for having a husband who is a little mercenary. He will gain exactly what he expects from the union, which is more than can be said for many marriages."

"Ought we to warn her, Papa?"

"Warn her? Certainly not. She is madly in love, and would never believe anything against him. She would make off to Scotland with him, as likely as not," replied Mr. Bennet cheerfully. "No, no, my dear, the only protection that can be afforded her is to insist upon the settlements. If he means no good to her, he will be off."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Can nothing more be done, Papa? That is a very melancholy prospect."

"Not so much as it might be, Lizzy. I think he has some real attachment to her, and if he is not allowed to squander her fortune it is likely to last. A man who marries a woman partially for her money, will still like her for money, so long as it remains. It is only when he has spent it all that he tires of her.* No, my dear, I think Mary will do very well."

"And must she marry such a hypocrite?" cried Elizabeth, standing to pace about the room.

But Mr. Bennet only shook his head. "There is nothing much the matter with him besides that. He is neither vicious nor lazy, and he is respectable. I suppose there is something of the hypocrite in us all."

Elizabeth could not resign herself so quickly, but she saw that her father did not wish to discuss the matter further, and so went off to dress in some perplexity, and more concern for her sister.

The behavior of the lovers at dinner, however, restored her to most of her pleasure in the proposed union. A close and careful observation convinced her that Mr. Bennet had been clear-sighted, and that there was real affection in Mr. Reynold's manner towards her sister. If there were also some interest, neither her father nor herself could alter the matter, and not being of a temper to make herself unhappy about that which she could not alter, she determined to think only of the felicity of the match, and expect happiness for her sister.

* I am indebted for this idea to Ms. Agatha Christie. Regrettably I cannot now recollect in which novel I encountered it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The next morning the young people rode out again, and this time Elizabeth found that they were to be graced with the presence of Miss Bingley.

"Miss Elizabeth! How do you do. And how was your trip to Hertfordshire?"

"Very pleasant, thank you," said Elizabeth, fixing her eyes upon her horse lest her expression should betray something. "I am sure your brother has told you that he found Netherfield Park very much to his liking, and so he has determined to take it at Easter."

"So soon?" said Miss Bingley, surprised. "I had not thought he was to go into the country until Midsummer. But then," with a little laugh, "I have been so very much occupied of late with my sister's wedding-clothes, that I declare I have hardly spoken two words to Charles since he came back to Town."

"I hope the preparations go smoothly," said Elizabeth, glad to turn the conversation. "When is the ceremony to be held?"

"Just before Easter, at St. George's," said Caroline, with obvious pride. "It ought to be a very elegant affair, very quiet. I will stand up with my sister, of course, and Mr. Harrington is to stand up with Mr. Hurst. It will look very well."

"I have no doubt. Mr. Harrington is a very gentlemanly man; he will not discredit you."

"We did ask Mr. Darcy to stand up with Mr. Hurst, but he would have none of it. Such a stubborn man!" she added, laughing gaily at him under her lashes.

"I am not sufficiently acquainted with Mr. Hurst to undertake the task," said Mr. Darcy calmly.

"There, you see, Miss Bennet? He is entirely unwilling to oblige a lady."

Elizabeth thought of his conduct the last few days, and could not choose but smile, though she concealed it tolerably well, by an adjustment to her hat.

"I am pained to hear you say so," said Mr. Darcy, without any symptom of that emotion. "I would oblige a lady wherever possible, but I cannot compromise my principles."

"Oh! I should never ask you to do so," replied Miss Caroline, becoming immediately serious. "If you really feel it to be wrong."

"Not wrong, precisely, but there is something unseemly about it; it has a little too much of vanity and show, which my conscience cannot approve, in connection with so serious a matter as matrimony."

"I hope, Mr. Darcy, you do not think me vain?" inquired Miss Caroline.

"It is always the part of a lady to attend to appearances, and ensure that they are what they ought to be," replied that gentleman calmly.

"I hope, Mr. Darcy," said Elizabeth teasingly, "you do not reserve the attending to more substantial matters to your own sex."

"Not at all. I merely observe that ladies are generally more attentive to appearances than are gentlemen."

"For which we sorry gentlemen must thank you, or the world would be in a shocking state," put in Mr. Bingley, who had heard enough of this to be anxious lest Caroline should quarrel with his friend.

"I cannot think so," Elizabeth rejoined. "I know a number of gentlemen very fastidious in their dress and habits."

"I was speaking of matters of propriety," said Mr. Darcy. "It is to Miss Caroline's credit that she seeks a suitable gentleman to stand up with Mr. Hurst. It is equally my own responsibility to judge my acquaintance with Mr. Hurst and determine it to be insufficient to the task."

Elizabeth would tease him no further, as she privately thought it would be absurd for Mr. Darcy to stand up with Mr. Hurst, and that the idea could originate from nothing but Miss Bingley's own matrimonial schemes, and was willing to allow the subject to drop. Miss Caroline, however, continued.

"I hope, Mr. Darcy, that you will not refuse to stand up with my brother, when he and Miss Bennet are married?"

"I have already agreed to do so."

"I am glad you consider him a sufficiently close acquaintance. I believe, Mr. Darcy, that your standards of intimacy are set rather high."

"I am somewhat reserved by temperament," said Mr. Darcy. "There are few admitted to my inner circle, no doubt, but I cannot think the world very much the loser for it." He looked at Elizabeth, who smiled at this little display of humility.

"Nay, Mr. Darcy, you are too modest!" cried Miss Caroline. "If you wish to reserve all that is best in your character for an intimate few, I cannot quarrel with you, but I cannot hear you esteem yourself so lightly, without raising an objection."

Elizabeth was about to reply in praise of his modesty when she became sensible that Miss Caroline was looking in her direction, to observe how her remarks were received. Directing her gaze rapidly at Mr. Darcy, she found that he, too, was watching her. Mr. Darcy, then, was not the only one who had interpreted her manner as flirtatious. She was dismayed at that, but she conquered her own emotion and replied lightly, and with an admirable command of countenance, "I am not so fond of an argument as to quarrel with a man for suiting his own temper, provided he does so without offending anybody else."

"It is not always possible for right conduct to be inoffensive, Miss Elizabeth," replied Mr. Darcy with a gravity tinged by remorse, "but I must agree with you in censuring those who suit their temper, by neglecting their company. Such general incivility must be always regretted by those who practice, as well as those who encounter, it."

"No doubt we have all had our moments of incivility," said Elizabeth consciously, "and our moments to regret."

Miss Caroline, who had been listening to this conversation with growing alarm, now interposed with gracious condescension.

"Pray, Miss Eliza, how does your uncle? Mr. Gardiner, I think his name was? The one who lives in Cheapside."

"He is very well, and his family with him."

"I have met very few people I like so well as Mr. Gardiner," remarked Mr. Darcy, to Miss Caroline's astonishment. "He and his wife are such elegant, amiable people. I hope that Mrs. Gardiner is as delighted with Georgiana as Georgiana is with her. It would mean a great deal to me, Miss Eliza, to be sure of a trustworthy female confidante for her. There are some things no reasonable man would expect a girl to confide to her brother."

"I can answer for it, that Mrs. Gardiner is equally pleased with Miss Darcy," said Elizabeth. "I am sure that, if your sister honors her with her confidence, she will give her very sound advice. She has given it me on more than one occasion."

Miss Bingley heard it all with growing alarm. Mr. Darcy was no longer appalled by the relatives in Cheapside--was, in fact, pleased with them! and intended to make a confidante of a shopkeeper's wife for Georgiana, rather than appeal to herself. She felt the slight keenly, but she kept her temper for the nonce. Mr. Darcy's own very proper pride--his idea of what the family of Darcy required--ought to prevent any irretrievable error for the three weeks that must pass before Easter, and the Bennets' removal into the countryside. When she herself had returned from traveling with the Hursts, she would go to stay with her brother in Hertfordshire, where she could keep an eye on Miss Eliza and give her hints of the inconstancy of men. With any luck, the Bennets would not be in Town for the little season, and she would have Mr. Darcy all to herself. If she could not make some impression upon him then, she would only half deserve the name of woman.

"Well, Mr. Darcy, and what did you think of Miss Eliza this morning?" remarked Caroline, when the Miss Bennets and Charles had been left in Sloane Street and Mr. Darcy was seeing her home. "She seemed wanting in her usual spirits, did she not? I thought she had very little to say for herself--and then her complexion was so poor, and her eyes very dull. I hope she is not ill--but her native air has certainly done her no good."

"I thought her in perfectly good spirits," said he calmly, "and I noticed no diminution of her beauty."

"Beauty!" cried she spitefully. "I distinctly recollect you describing her as a perfectly ordinary country miss, only somewhat plainer than her sister. I did not know you thought her a beauty."

"She has remarkably fine eyes, and a very expressive countenance," were all that Mr. Darcy would vouchsafe.

"You sound like a man in love," said Caroline, laughing. "And when, pray, am I to wish you joy? No doubt her uncle will visit frequently at Pemberley, and Mrs. Bennet will be a delightful addition to any household. I am sure she would be very comfortable in the Dower House at Pemberley, in time."

"I hope it is not improper for a man to admire a woman's eyes, without having first proposed marriage," said Mr. Darcy coolly.

"That depends entirely upon whether she intends to catch him. I know your honor, Mr. Darcy; I would not see you ensnared."

"I am sure Miss Bennet is far too genteel to resort to those mean arts by which ladies attempt to entrap a husband," replied he coldly.

This was not so satisfactory an answer as to urge Miss Bingley to pursue the subject, and they returned to Brook Street in silence, Miss Bingley receiving very little pleasure from the reflection that she was riding with Mr. Darcy, and that half the fashionable West End was sure to hear of it before the day was out.