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Chapter 1

Author's Note: Unfortunately, no one seems to like Caroline Bingley very much. If Mr. Darcy were suddenly to have not one sister, but two, and one of them, Viola, happened to also visit Netherfield during Jane's illness, this is how I imagine some of the scenes at Netherfield would have taken place. Allow me to introduce you to the narrator of this tale, Miss Viola Darcy. Presenting Part 1, picking off from the original P & P Chapter 8.

At five o'clock, we all retired to dress, and although I had to be civil as a guest of the house, I could not help but feel ridiculously annoyed by Caroline's remarks. She would have followed me to my room had I not kindly reminded her of her own need to look her best.

"Do not forget, Caroline, that Fitz prefers one to dress up for supper," I said while pointing at her apparel.

"Of course," said Caroline. "I do hope you would not call Mr. Darcy that atrocious name, though; it quite puts me out to hear you speak of him as 'Fitz' when we are clearly referring to a gentleman-And do think of what Miss Eliza Bennet would think if she were to hear you address your brother in that uncivil manner."

"He is my brother," I said taking no offense in her words. Caroline, I knew, was hopelessly "dog-gone" on poor Fitz. Watching her self-encouragement was unfortunately the only thing that I could find agreeable with her. "I shall certainly try to be what you call more "civil", but I'm afraid I am terribly not like Georgiana in the respect of manners." Thus said, I closed the door gently in her face. Poor Caroline would never give up on a friendship between both Georgiana and me, and yet if she were to successfully transform me into one of her friends, as she was beginning to do to Georgiana, I doubted that Fitz' affections would follow.

Once dressed, I hurried to the dining room, eager to see if either of the Miss Bennets would be joining us. I had been impressed with Miss Bennet's composure, even in the face of her illness and Caroline and Louisa's terrible questioning of her family history. Likewise, Miss Elizabeth Bennet's warmth towards her sister made me miss my baby of a sister, Georgiana, dreadfully. No, Miss Bennet had not gone down, but Miss Elizabeth had, and was already exchanging conversation with Mr. Bingley.

"I do hope that your sister is well," Mr. Bingley was saying.

"I'm afraid, she is not much better than before." I knew Miss Elizabeth's feelings were genuinely with her sister as I saw the troubled look in her eyes. "But she has begged that I would come down, and return again afterwards."

"Oh, of course you must," I said feelingly, "Miss Bennet is too kind to not ask you to stay by her side. But please do not trouble yourself this half hour, for if she saw you fast over her, I am sure Miss Bennet would be greatly more troubled."

Miss Elizabeth gave me a kind smile, and I felt as if we were friends already.

I was sorry that I had felt any pity for Caroline, though. As soon as we sat down to eat, it was clear that only Mr. Bingley and I were the only ones who took notice of Miss Elizabeth. Caroline was rudely engrossed by Fitz, Louisa scarcely less so. As for Mr. Hurst - lord, what was Mr. Hurst on this part of earth for? - He sat quite like the fat seal, indolent, and lazy. He lived only to eat, drink, and play at cards, and when he found that Miss Elizabeth preferred a plain dish to a ragout, he was so put out that he had nothing left to say to her.

Having glanced a few times over at Fitz, and remarking no expression whatsoever on his face, I blushed for the company. It was no wonder that when dinner was over, Elizabeth returned directly to Jane without any words but those of excusal.

Caroline began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room.

"Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed," she began with her long nose in the air, and a toss of her black hair, "A mixture of pride and impertinence. She had no conversation, no style, no taste, no beauty."

Louisa, to my aggravation, nodded her agreement. "I though the same. She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker." Here, they both broke into a high-pitched squeal of laughter. "I shall never forget her appearance thing morning. She really looked almost wild."

"She did indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance." Indeed, Caroline's bony face was still fixed in its nasty smirk. "Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair so untidy, so blowsy!"

"I suppose you'll remark on her petticoat too," I said, determined, in my ruffled feelings, to end the subject immediately.

"Yes! And her petticoat!" declared Louisa, unable to hear my warning. "I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office."

"Really, if you must go about looking at other ladies' petticoat-" I interjected. I was mad that Fitz would continue to sit wordlessly through the conversation.

"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Mr. Bingley, ignoring all of us, "But this was all lost upon me. I though Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well, when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."

"You observed it, My. Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley, "and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sisters make such an exhibition."

Darting a glance at me, he said shortly, "Certainly not." He might have added that he could not guarantee that I would have done the same, even if Georgiana would not.

"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum." Caroline waved her handkerchief around at each sentence.

"It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said Mr. Bingley in defense.

"I dare say you would not be seen walking so far as a quarter of a mile anywhere," I commented to Caroline, unable at last to contain my exasperation. "In fact, I do wonder if I have known you to ever exert yourself to walk anywhere beyond ten yards of your own home?"

She sat motionless for a moment as she thought of what next to say after my insult. Finally, she said in a lowered, and what I presume she thought was a mysterious voice, "I am afraid, Mr. Darcy, that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes. You see, Viola, when you were absent from us, your brother declared that he had been meditating on Miss Eliza Bennet's fine eyes."

"I was not at all affected," he replied, "Miss Elizabeth Bennets' eyes were brightened by the exercise." A short pause followed this speech-in which I secretly hurrahed and gave my brother my smile of approval-and Louisa began again.

"I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it."

"I think I have heard you say, that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton."

"Yes, and they have another, who lives in Cheapside." Louisa and Caroline snickered over the last two words.

"That is capital," said Caroline, catching her breath.

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

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

To this speech, Mr. Bingley had no answer, though I knew I would have coxcombed Fitz for so saying. His two sisters made their hearty assent to Fitz' remark, and further indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of the relations of Jane, whom just the day before they had called their "dear friend".

At length, they observed that I had become quite quiet, and I was able to remind them of their moral duty to see how Miss Bennet was getting on. Miss Bennet was still very poorly, and when we went to the drawing room, her sister could not immediately join us.

I had just quitted the game of loo and picked up a book when Elizabeth joined us.

"Excellent," said Louisa, uncommonly pleasant, "I entreat you to join us for a round. Miss Darcy has just decided to leave the game, though she can well afford to play high, and you can take her place."

"Jane will be needing me soon. I've only come by for a short time, and would not want to be the cause of another disruption to your table," said Elizabeth.
"Do you prefer reading to cards?" said Mr. Hurst in astonishment. (Really, I do sometimes wonder what Louisa could have seen in him when they married.) Casting a hazy look in my direction, as if to include me in his next sentence, he added, "That is rather singular."

"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Caroline, "despises cards. She is a great reader and has no pleasure in anything else."

"I deserve neither such praise, nor such censure," cried Elizabeth. "I am not a great reader, and I take pleasure in many things."

"In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure," said Mr. Bingley, "and I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her quite well."

Elizabeth thanked him heartily, and then walked towards the table where I had also begun to peruse through some books.

"What are you reading?" she asked pleasantly. "Ah, Shakespeare. Are you particularly fond of Hamlet?"

I smiled and nodded. "Some of the most wonderful lines ever written," I said, fingering the corner of the book fondly. "Do you?"

We exchanged some of our likes and dislikes of reading, and to my happiness, I found that we shared much the same tastes for books, a taste that Caroline and Louisa both sorrowfully lacked.

"If there are any others that you wish to read, I shall have it fetched for you, all that my library can afford," said Mr. Bingley from the card table. "I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more than I ever look into."

"I am perfectly suited with these ones," Elizabeth assured him.

"I am astonished," said Caroline, "That my father should have left so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!"

"It ought to be good," he replied, "It has been the work of many generations."

"And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying books."

"I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these. And most that I have recently bought have been at the request of Viola."

"Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place. Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Pemberley."

"I wish it may," said Mr. Bingley enthusiastically.

"But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire."

I felt ready to heave my supper at the sweet tone in which Caroline now tried to use on Fitz. Could she not see that my brother would not be touched?

"With all my heart," said Mr. Bingley. "I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it."

"Caroline only talks of possibilities," I said.

"Upon my word, I should think it more possible to get Pemberley by purchase than by imitation," he answered, misunderstanding me.

I could see that Elizabeth was very much caught by what passed as to leave very little attention to Shakespeare, and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew nearer to me.

"You can see that Caroline thinks a great deal of Pemberley," I said in a hushed voice. "I never know what to make of it, but that she must want to live in it exceedingly much."

"Perhaps no place has enraptured her as greatly," Elizabeth remarked. "Are cards so popular in town?" She perhaps observed Mr. Hurst's enthusiasm, such a stark contrast to what he had been at supper.

Caroline met her gaze and narrowed her eyes. "Is Georgiana much grown since the spring?" she said, suddenly directing herself to Fitz. "Will she be as tall as I am?"

"I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or rather taller."

I glanced over at Elizabeth, but could not make out the expression on her face at this undue reference. The first shadow of knowledge crept its way into my mind.

"How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners, and so extremely accomplished for her age! Though Viola's playing is so brilliantly executed and musical, Georgiana's performance on the piano-forte is far exquisite."

"It is amazing to me," said Mr. Bingley, "How young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are."

"All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?"

"Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know any one who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished."

"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said Fitz, "has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse, or covering a screen. But, I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished."

"Nor I, I am sure," said Caroline quickly.

"Then," observed Elizabeth, "You must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman."

"Yes. I do comprehend a great deal in it," said Fitz.

"Oh! Certainly!" cried Caroline. "No one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address, and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved." I imagine she fancied herself in that description of the accomplished woman.

"All this she must possess," added Fitz, "and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading."

"I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any."

"Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the possibility of all this?"

"I never saw such a woman, I never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe, united."

Louisa and Caroline both cried out against her words.

"There is injustice in your implied doubt!" declared Caroline. "I must protest that I know many women who answer to Mr. Darcy's description. Perhaps you have not had the benefits of moving about in society. I can assure you that there are many ladies of our acquaintance of whom are very accomplished."

"I wonder at you contradicting yourself," I said. "Just a moment ago, you agreed with Fitz that you could not boast of knowing more that half a dozen of truly accomplished women."

"Oh do pay attention! It's your turn, Louisa, if you'd only be attentive," Mr. Hurst cried out, interrupting us.

Elizabeth soon excused herself, pressing my hand in a gesture of friendship, and left the room.

"Eliza Bennet," said Caroline with contempt in her words, "Is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own, and with men, I dare say, it succeeds. But in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art."

"You do speak such injustices to your own sex on so many occasions that I quite agree it is despicable," I said picking up my book again.

"Undoubtedly," Fitz said, "There is meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Viola is right to say that whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable."

Caroline looked dissatisfied with his reply, but at least she would not trouble us further with her abuses of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Before retiring for the night, Fitz sat down beside me to look at the books, which I had been perusing.

"That is that one that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was reading," I said quietly to him.

Fitz smiled at me, with the look that he often used when he knew I'd read his thoughts, and took it wordlessly with him to his room.

Chapter 2

I would have had a peaceful night had Mr. Bingley's pacing about the halls not woken me at one o'clock.

"Send for Mr. Jones in the early morning if Miss Bennet is not decidedly better," I heard him instruct the housekeeper. "I would be wretched to think that Miss-that anyone should lay ill without a proper doctor to attend to them."

Two hours later, it was Mr. Bingley again, this time giving directions to the housekeeper that every possible attention must be paid to the sick lady and her sister. At that point, I could no longer pretend to be asleep, and slowly opening my door just ajar, I crept out of my room and knocked quietly on Miss Bennet's door.

"Has Miss Bennet not been any better?" I asked as Elizabeth opened the door to admit me. There was a strained look on her pale, tired face which could nearly match her sister's sleeping one lying on the pillow.

"I'm afraid she has not, though the good news must be that she is not worse," said Elizabeth.

"I wish I could do something for the two of you. I hate to see you putting off your sleep like this. Let me sit up with Miss Bennet for a few hours, while you lie down a bit."

She shook her head. "Oh, I could not ask that of you, Miss Darcy."

"Please call me Viola. Let me at least sit with Miss Bennet until Mr. Bingley sends for Mr. Jones, the doctor." I was adamant, and she could see that I did not mean to back down by any means. Finally assenting, she sat in a chair in a far corner of the room and fell asleep. Meanwhile, I sat by Miss Bennet's bedside, watching over her troubled face.

A very pretty face it was, and I could understand how Mr. Bingley must feel miserable at the thought of her illness. Mr. Bingley was always a good friend, nearly like my own little brother, though I was younger than him, being closer to Caroline's age, that I wanted to ease as much suffering for him as possible.

"Have you a great deal of affection for Mr. Bingley?" asked Elizabeth as she stole quietly to my side. It was four o'clock and I had not slept a wink.

I laughed at the thought and made her understand that it was not the sort of affection to which she alluded.

"Forgive me for the ridiculousness of my inquiry," she apologized.

"I can assure you that Mr. Bingley has never entered my thoughts and feelings in that manner. We have grown up too much thinking of each other as siblings. He needs a great deal of looking after, and Mr. Darcy and I take it quite upon ourselves in that respect, seeing how he is used by his own sisters."

The housemaid came in to announce that Mr. Jones had arrived and would shortly come up, and then I made my exit, after pressing Elizabeth to not say a word that I had been in.

"Caroline and Louisa would despise it a great deal," I explained, and she nodded.

An hour later, Elizabeth came to look for me.

"If you please, Miss Darcy-Viola," said Elizabeth, "May I send for a note to Longbourn? I see that Jane is much better than last night, and I would desire my mother's judgement of the situation before we took leave."

I informed Mr. Bingley of the matter and he readily had the message dispatched. Soon after breakfast, the note was answered by the arrival of Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest girls.

Having been away at the Meryton Assembly and Sir William Lucas' evening party, I knew not what to expect of her, but for the general account from Mr. Bingley's sisters that she was vulgar and loud, and from Mr. Bingley that she was friendly and generous, I suspected reluctantly that she was a little closer to Caroline and Louisa's description. Fitz had nothing to say, but his expression was contorted into that of contempt and mortification.

"I hope, madam, that your have not found Miss Bennet worse than expected?" inquired Mr. Bingley nervously.

"Indeed I have, Sir," said Mr. Bennet. "She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness."

"Removed!" cried Mr. Bingley a little too feelingly. "It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure will not hear of her removal."

"You may depend upon it, Madam," said Caroline civilly, but coldly, "that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she remains with us."

Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgements.

"I am sure," she added, "if it was not for such good friends I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world-which is always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to her. You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming prospect over that gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry, I hope, though you have but a short lease."

"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied Mr. Bingley enthusiastically. "And therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here."

"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," Elizabeth ventured to say.

"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" he cried eagerly, as he hoped Elizabeth may report to her sister.

"Oh! Yes-I understand you perfectly."

"I wish I might take this for a compliment, but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful."

"That is as it happens. It does not necessarily follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours."

"Lizzy," cried Mrs. Bennet impatiently, "remember where you are, and do not run on in that wild manner that you are suffered to do at home."

"I did not know before," continued Mr. Bingley immediately, "that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study."

"Yes, but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage."

"The country," spoke my brother suddenly, "can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society."

"But people themselves alter so much that there is something new to be observed in them for ever."

"Yes indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by Fitz's manner of mentioning a country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town."

We were all surprised by the vehemence of her words, and Fitz, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. I was about to explain my brother's meaning and apologize when Mrs. Bennet said with a triumphant smile on her face,

"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is not is, Mr. Bingley?"

"When I am in the country," Mr. Bingley replied, "I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town, it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either." (Bless Charles Bingley for his easy disposition!)

"Aye-that is because you have the right disposition," said Mrs. Bennet, almost like an echo of my thoughts, "But that gentleman seemed to think the country was nothing at all."

"Indeed, Maman, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there were not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in town, which you must acknowledge to be true."

"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were, but as to not meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four and twenty families."

Mr. Bingley kept a straight face, but Caroline and Louisa were not so fortunate and had no meaning to check their snickering. I casually pinched Caroline's arm to warn her of her manner, and when she made a little exclamation, and everyone looked, I smiled casually at her to show that she had made a fool of herself.

"Has Charlotte Lucas been at Longbourn since my coming away?" asked Elizabeth changing the subject uneasily.

"Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir William is, Mr. Bingley-is not he? So much the man of fashion! So genteel and so easy! He has always something to say to every body. That is my idea of good breeding, and those persons who fancy themselves very important and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter."

"Did Charlotte dine with you?"

"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince pies. For my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work; my daughters are brought up differently. But every body is to judge for themselves, and the Lucases are very good sort of girls, I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think Charlotte so very plain-but then she is our particular friend."

I could nearly feel Elizabeth's mortification, but Mr. Bingley made the reparations easily,

"She seems a very pleasant young woman."

"Oh! Dear, yes-but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, Jane-one does not often see any body better looking. It is what every body says. I do not trust my own partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my brother Gardiner's in town, so much in love with her, that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But however, he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were."

"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"

"I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said Fitz.

"Of a fine stout, healthy love it may," I said, thinking of Shakespearean verses.

"Every thing nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away," said Elizabeth.

Inwardly, I felt most rewarded, for I understood that my brother was not the sort who could have written a sonnet to save himself, though he was so fond of labouring out long words.

Fitz smiled, and a pause ensued.

I saved it by remarking on the commonplace subjects, hoping to make the meeting at least a bit more agreeable.

"Yes, I quite agree the weather has been most favourable," said Mrs. Bennet in reply to my remark. "I believe we have not had the pleasure of seeing you at Longbourn, Miss Darcy. Perhaps if you are not to ill-inclined towards the country as that gentleman seems to be, you may come by one of these days and take tea with us."

She pronounced my name with some hostility, and I eager to show her that I was not one with my brother,

"I would be delighted to return a call any day at Longbourn. I have lived so little in the country that I should very much like to take an adventure of sorts in it-That is, the kinds of adventures that are allowed to a young lady."

Mrs. Bennet was satisfied and soon after, she began to repeat her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to Miss Bennet with an apology for troubling him also with Elizabeth. Mr. Bingley was unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced Caroline to be civil also, and say what occasion required. Caroline performed her part indeed, with me by her side, but without much graciousness. Mrs. Bennet's carriage was ordered and upon that, her youngest daughter stepped forward.

"Kitty and I have been discussing about your promise, on your first coming into the country, to give a ball at Netherfield," said Miss Lydia Bennet. She was stout, well grown for fifteen (more so than Georgiana, who was still very much a girl by comparison), had a fine complexion and a good-humoured countenance. I remembered hearing about her being a great favourite with the officers, and her high animal spirits. "It would be most shameful thing in the world if you did not keep it," she added mischievously.

"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement, and when your sister is recovered, you shall if you please, name the very day of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing while she is ill," said Mr. Bingley.

Lydia declared herself satisfied. "Oh! yes-it would be much better to wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter would be at Meryton again. And when you have given your ball," she added, "I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not."

Mrs. Bennet and her youngest daughters then departed, and Elizabeth left instantly to see Jane.

"Mrs. Bennet quite takes to your charms, though she may not still think so well of poor Mr. Darcy," said Caroline addressing me as if she had said something witty.

"I don't expect she much likes me," I answered. "But her affections for Miss Bennet is quite enough to convince me that she does not deserve the sarcasm with which you discuss her like a hen at a butcher shop."

"Viola," warned Fitz.

"What a pretty little image for a fine lady," said Caroline, turning to Fitz, "And pray, what did you think of Mrs. Bennet's display of feathers? I don't suppose there was much finery in it, other than that they might have increased your admiration of her daughter's fine eyes?"

Fitz ignored her.

"Really, Caroline, how tiring you are," I declared. "Perhaps you hope to be the bearer of the fine eyes of which you so obsess about?"

"I have not quite forgotten that pinch," Caroline said quietly while leaning over to me. There was a hardness in her voice.

"I don't suppose I understand what you mean either," I said, haughtily standing up. "But do let me assure you that your cold civility could never warm the hearts of any understanding and knowing gentleman." Whispering into her ear, I added, "Least of all my brother."

Chapter 3

The day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley--for with our new hostility, we had stopped calling each other by the old, friendly Christian names--had spent some hours of the morning with Miss Bennet, who continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening, Elizabeth joined our party in the drawing room. The loo table, however, did not appear. Fitz was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching the progress of his letter, and repeatedly calling off his attention by messages to Georgiana. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.

I was now perusing another book, one about insects, which I couldn't understand Mr. Bingley would purchase, while Elizabeth took up some needlework, and both of us were sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Fitz and his companion. The perpetual commendations of the lady either on his hand-writing, or on the evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was exactly in unison with her opinion of each.

"How delighted Georgiana will be to receive such a letter!"

Fitz made no answer.

"You write uncommonly fast."

"You are mistaken," I called out, "Fitz writes rather slowly."

"How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of the year!" declared Miss Bingley, "Letters of business too! How odious I should think of them!"

I wondered if Fitz could hear her exclamations.

"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours," he said, which normally would have ended it there.

"Pray, tell your sister that I long to see her."

"Which one?" asked Fitz.

For a moment, Miss Bingley looked rather foolish as she pronounced Georgiana's name.

"I have already told her so once, by your desire," said Fitz curtly.

"I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend pens remarkably well."

"Thank you-but I always mend my own."

"How can you contrive to write so even?"

Fitz was silent and Elizabeth and I eyed each other with amusement.

"Tell you sister Georgiana," said Miss Bingley, never giving up, "I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp, and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss Grantley's."

"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At present I have not room to do them justice."

"Oh! It is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?"

"They are generally long; but whether always charming, as Viola's must be, it is not for me to determine."

"It is a rule with me," Miss Bingley returned, while ignoring the reference to me, "that a person who can write a long letter, with ease, cannot write ill."

"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," cried Mr. Bingley, "because he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?"

"My stile of writing is very different from yours."

"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most careless way imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest."

"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them-by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."

"Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, "must disarm reproof."

"Nothing is more deceitful," said Fitz, "that the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast."

"And which of the two do you call my little recent piece of modesty?" inquired Mr. Bingley.

"The indirect boast; for you are really proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which if not estimable, you think at least highly interesting." Fitz looked up for a moment from his paper. "When you told Mrs. Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved to quit Netherfield you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of panegyric, of compliment to yourself-and yet what is there so very laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or any one else?"

"Nay," cried Mr. Bingley, "this is too much, to remember at night all the foolish things there were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, I believed what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this moment. At least, I did not assume the character of needless precipitance merely to show off before the ladies."

"I dare say you believed it, but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such celerity. If, as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, 'Bingley, you had better stay till next week,' you would probably do it, you would probably not go-and, at another word, might stay a month."

"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, "that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself."

"Miss Bennet, I assure you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object than Mr. Darcy," said Mr. Bingley, "On particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening when he has nothing to do."

Fitz smiled at this account of himself, but I could see that he was somewhat offended.

"How could you expostulate such indignity upon Mr. Darcy," said Miss Bingley, "To speak such nonsense of him."

"I see your design, Bingley," said my brother, "You dislike an argument, and want to silence this."

"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me."

"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr. Darcy had much better finish his letter."

While Fitz wrote in relative silence, Miss Bingley took to yawning and sighing over a few times, as if to indicate the lack of activity which the room was now in. Though I watched Elizabeth pick up her needlework again, I said not a word until Fitz had completed his letter to Georgiana.

"Have you a letter to post, Viola? I will have it posted first thing in the morning if you do," he asked.

"It is upstairs in my desk drawer," I answered. "I'll have it taken down to the mail bag before I retire tonight."

"Perhaps I may apply for the indulgence of some music?" asked Fitz abruptly, eyeing Elizabeth.

Miss Bingley, who had moved with alacrity to the piano-forte now made a polite request that Elizabeth lead the way, and was politely negatived.

"How about Viola?" said Fitz, after seeing Elizabeth decline the offer. "I have a great impatience to hear the piece which you say you have worked so hard on."

I assented and brushed politely past Miss Bingley, who, with a slightly crestfallen face, had to make way. I played through all three movements of the Sonata, which Fitz had always said he rather liked, and then perceiving the anxiety on Miss Bingley's face, I gave the seat back up to her.

"And what piece was that?" Elizabeth asked me quietly. "I have never heard anything more beautiful."

"Beethoven," I replied in a lowered voice. "I don't suppose it is considered very ladylike to play Beethoven, but I like them immensely. But they do take so long to learn." We turned our attention back to Miss Bingley, who played through some Italian songs.

I saw Fitz sit patiently through the performance as Mrs. Hurst sang with Miss Bingley, but he was also looking a great deal at Elizabeth.

As Miss Bingley began to play a lively Scotch air, Fitz strolled near us and asked,

"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel."

She smiled and made no answer, and I was about to divert the question with some saving remark for my brother when he imbecile-like, asked the question again.

"Oh," said Elizabeth, "I heard you before; but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say 'Yes' that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have therefore made up my mind to tell you that I do not want to dance a reel at all-and now despise my if you dare."

"Indeed I do not," answered Fitz with easy gallantry.

After Elizabeth had left the room to see her sister, Miss Bingley took swift revenge.

"I hope," she remarked, "you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this desirable event of your marriage takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue, and if you can cure the younger girls of running after the officers. And if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence which your lady possesses."

"Have you any thing else to propose for my domestic felicity?" asked Fitz, not at all discomposed.

"Oh! yes-Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Philips be placed in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great uncle, the judge. They are in the same profession, you know; only different lines. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not attempt to have it taken, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?"

"It would not be easy indeed, to catch their expression, but their colour and shape, and the eye lashes so remarkably fine, might be copied."

Miss Bingley had very little to say to that and resolved on spending the rest of the night shuffling impatiently through a pile of music.

Chapter 4

However, upon the entry of the gentlemen, Miss Bingley resolved to retrieve her disagreeable self once more. As Mr. Bingley occupied himself with making Miss Bennet comfortable, and barely speaking to anyone else but her, Miss Bingley tried hard to capture our attention.

"How about cards?" said Mr. Hurst surprisingly intelligibly. "Shall it be loo?"

"No, I've obtained private intelligence that Mr. Darcy does not wish for cards," said Miss Bingley. "And I can assure you that no one intends to play."

Mr. Hurst therefore stretched out on one of the sofas and fell asleep. Fitz took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same; and Mrs. Hurst occupied herself principally with her bracelets and rings, sometimes joining in her brother's conversation with Miss Bennet.

I had taken up a piece of paper and began drawing, and before long, I had a sketch of a fine gentleman-just the sort of melancholy man I had imagined would be perfect for Hamlet-and began to adorn his coat with the medals and buttons of a naval officer, a truly noble profession. While looking up, to see that no one was watching over what I was drawing, I noticed Miss Bingley watching Fitz reading. It was no surprise really that she had no interest in the journeys of Marco Polo.

At length, having quite exhausted attempts at amusing herself with the book, which she had chosen only because it was the second volume to the one that Fitz had picked up, she gave a great yawn and said, "How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library."

Neither Fitz, nor Elizabeth (who had also been reading, but in another corner of the room), nor anyone else made a reply. She yawned again, threw aside her book, cast her eyes about, then hearing Mr. Bingley mention a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly towards him and said,

"By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure."

"If you mean Darcy," said Mr. Bingley, "he may go to bed, if he chuses, before it beings, but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough, I shall send round my cards."

"Fitz may profess to dislike dancing, but I am certain he would not feel it a punishment to be at a ball where people are sensible and agreeable," I ventured to say. Having heard Miss Bingley's account of the Meryton Assembly, to which I had not been present, I knew that what Fitz really wanted was to feel at ease amidst a lack of sense and reason.

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

"Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a ball."

Miss Bingley made no answer and soon afterwards, got up and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant and she walked well-but Fitz, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious.

"Miss Darcy, would you like to join me in walking about the room?" she asked me, observing me watching her.

"I would if you can present me with a good argument why I should," I answered. "And this past week since I have been at Netherfield, I have walked a great deal around this room as to know all its corners."

In desperation of her feelings, she resolved on one effort more, and turning to Elizabeth, she said, "Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. Though Miss Darcy declines, I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude."

Elizabeth looked surprised, but agreed. Miss Bingley succeeded no less in the real object of her civility, for Fitz looked up, awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as Elizabeth herself could be, and closed his book.

"Mr. Darcy, will you be a party?" asked Miss Bingley eagerly at this gesture.

Fitz declined. "I can imagine but two motives for your chusing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which motives my joining you would interfere."

"What can you mean? I am dying to know what your meaning is," said Miss Bingley. "Do you know what he means, Miss Eliza?"

"Not at all, but depend upon it, he means to be severe on us and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it."

"I do require an explanation of his two motives," said Miss Bingley dissatisfied. "Miss Darcy, perhaps you, who understand your brother so well, may know?"

"My brother could have not the smallest objection to explaining them," I said. "I do not see why your questioning must be directed at me. Fitz, won't you explain yourself?"

"You either chuse this method of passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking," said Fitz.

"If the first, my brother should be completely in the way," I added, "And if the second, Fitz would admire you much better as he sits by the fire."

"Oh! Shocking!" cried Miss Bingley, though evidently delighted, "I never heard any thing so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?"

"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said Elizabeth. "We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him, laugh at him, intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done."

"But upon my honour, I do not. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that," said Miss Bingley. I laughed at her choice of words, but after a glare in my direction, she continued, "Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind! No, no-I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself."

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

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

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

"Perhaps that is not possible for any one," I interrupted, hoping to cease the pending argument. After the last experience, I wanted to mend the troubles between Elizabeth and my brother.

"Thank you, Viola, for your interjection," said Fitz without stopping, "But it has been the study of life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule."

"Such as vanity and pride," persisted Elizabeth.

"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride-where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation."

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

"I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise."

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

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

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

"And your defect is a propensity to hate every body."

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

"Fitz," I said. I was afraid that he would begin alluding to that evil man, Wickham, and so I hid my intent with a laugh. "Surely this is not the sort of discussion for a leisurely evening. Perhaps we had better follow Mr. Bingley's example and settle for an issue more agreeable than a dispute?"

"Do let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley. For once, I could applaud her wise decision. "Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst."

Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was opened.

We were not the least bit sorry for the diversion. But I was readily aware that Fitz had not begun his footing very well if he were to pursue Elizabeth's affection. I sighed a little at the thought that each time they met, they had to argue over some matter.

"What could you have meant with your impertinence this evening?" Fitz asked me quietly after we began to disassemble for the night.

"I really must warn you that you nearly let out what went on last summer," I said in a lowered voice. "I do hope that you would remember, and then restrain from letting out your opinions so sternly at the expense of your own sister." Placing a hand on his arm, I added, "It is easy for me to see how you feel towards Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and I do hope with all my heart that something would come of it, but the way you do carry yourself does not quite recommend you."

"This is not a matter that someone so young as you ought to discuss," said Fitz.

"I am twenty, Fitzwilliam Darcy, quite old enough to want the best for my family. And you, who have nearly raised Georgiana and me, I want to see you happy, and it almost angers me when I see the way you ruin your own happiness in that willful manner of yours."

So saying, we retired to our respective rooms, but I could not fast fall asleep at the thought that Miss Bingley might just succeed over the affections of my brother.

Chapter 5

"Surely you do not mean to say that you will leave so soon?" I asked in alarm. The events of the last evening were still fresh in my mind, and I had still to work on Elizabeth's feelings for Fitz. But as it was, I saw that my efforts would now be wasted-Clearly, Elizabeth disliked Fitz immensely, whatever the reason happened to be. I felt it safest then, to say nothing of it to her, but I tried to dissuade her from leaving so soon.

"I wish that you would stay for one more day," I said, "I have hardly gotten to know you."

She thanked me heartily. "Your presence these last few days has made this stay much more agreeable than I had anticipated," she said, giving me an affectionate hug.

"But I suppose Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst have not been particularly hospitable," I charged. "Please let me apologize, at least for Mr. Bingley's sake." We smiled at each other. "I know that I am not particularly so well bred as I ought to be, but I have the natural tendency to wish to communicate what I feel, not hold it back as my brother is so wont to do-Please let me come and visit. I would like to be your friend, and Miss Bennet's too."

To my happiness, Elizabeth laughed. "You may call us at Longbourn whenever you wish. That is, you must get the approval of your brother first."

"Consent is more likely, though approval may not come." I sighed. "I have yet to see Meryton. I have only been here a little longer than Miss Bennet's arrival at Netherfield."

"Yes, I can see why now I never saw you at the last assembly, or at Sir William Lucas'."

I cautiously asked her how Fitz behaved in public, and for a moment, she hesitated to answer.

"I am afraid that means not very well," I said.

"He danced only four dances," said Elizabeth, "And could not be prevailed on to dance with any of the other ladies, though there were scarcely enough partners."

"I would have persuaded him to it had I been there. How I wish I had not been so long detained at my aunt's." The thought of Aunt Catherine made me all upset over the lost opportunities that I had missed because she had insisted that I stay another week. At least, I had been able to be rid of the ridiculous rector whom she had so lately befriended, whatever his name happened to be. I could not recall it amongst all the other names that Aunt Catherine took so much pain to introduce to me.

After Sunday service, in which I heard Elizabeth sing hymns so loud and clear, and I joining in with enthusiasm, we returned to Netherfield and parted. Miss Bennet waved very sweetly to us, and I thought: How good it would be to enjoy their society any day, instead of Mr. Bingley's sisters.

On the Tuesday after their leave from Netherfield, I took the liberty of calling on them, and to my surprise, I was not the only one to be there.

I apologized. "I should have heeded my brother and waited for a more suitable time to call."

"Oh, please do not trouble yourself with thoughts such as these," said Mrs. Bennet. "Though we have another visitor at Longbourn, you are still very welcome. And how is the party at Netherfield. Your brother, I need not ask for, but Mr. Bingley, he is well? And his sisters? Never have I met a more well bred gentleman than Mr. Bingley. That I am always saying to my daughters."

"Yes, Mr. Bingley and his sisters, they were very well when I left them."

The youngest, Lydia Bennet, had the intention of walking to Meryton, and remembering my wish to see the town, Elizabeth suggested I come away with them. I readily assented.

"I am glad," she whispered to me, "For our cousin, Mr. Collins, who has just arrived, will come along with us, and Jane and I have need of one other sensible mind amongst our set if we are to endure any more in politeness."

I sent my carriage back to Netherfield, instructing them to return later when I bid for them again, and we set off in the direction of town.

It was quite a surprise to me to see that her cousin was the same dreadfully pompous man of whom I had just taken leave from my aunt in Kent.

"Miss Darcy," he greeted me with a low, wide spread bow, "I had not so far expected to see you here in Hertfordshire. When I last saw Lady Catherine, she was in very good health and spirits. I am sure that will ease your anxieties on that matter."

"Thank you," I said in amusement. "But I have not left her so long ago yet."

"Lady Catherine," he said, addressing himself to the Miss Bennets, "is really the most generous patroness with whom I have ever met, and indeed heard of. She is sometimes reckoned proud by many people, but I have never seen any thing but affability in her. She has always spoken to me as she would to any other gentleman, and made not the smallest objection to my joining in the society of the neighbourhood."

"No, particularly in the neighbourhood," I repeated, thinking in amusement of the gardener, the apothecary, and the coachman.

"As I have been telling my fair cousins, she has even condescended to advise me to marry as soon as I can, provided that I chose with discretion," he continued to add. This time, it was directed at Elizabeth, and I shuddered at the thought of her mortification. Being singled out by a man as insensible as Mr. Collins was a discredit rather than a praise!

In pompous nothings on his side and civil assents on ours, we managed to enter Meryton. The attention of Lydia and Catherine Bennet were no longer gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers which they had talked of incessantly. I began to worry that Lydia, especially, was proving herself to be too vain and careless for her own good. For a girl so close in age to dear Georgiana, Lydia could almost be viewed as my sister, and I wondered that Elizabeth and Miss Bennet did not do more to apprehend her.

Then suddenly, we had stopped, with Lydia, calling out, "Denny, Denny!" to an officer.

The officer was the very Mr. Denny, concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as we passed. He had the most gentlemanlike appearance, and for a moment, I thought he had a great semblance to the sketch I had made in the drawing room of Netherfield one evening. The likeness of the dark hair, tall gait, broad shoulders were remarkable. However, my reverie was rather broken upon hearing his voice, for though it was gentleman-like and well bred, it was rather too deep and low for my preference.

"How do you do, Miss Lydia," he said tipping his hat at her. He turned his attention to the rest of us and in turn made his greetings, and Lydia hurriedly introduced me to him in a manner that was quick and lacked politeness.

"We wondered where you had gone," said Lydia, losing no time, "We were afraid you'd become afraid of us and run away."

Mr. Denny laughed. "Run away? I should think not. To lose my commission on the account of Miss Lydia Bennet? Do but consider that for a moment." For a moment, Mr. Denny and I returned a look of understanding before he recalled what was on his mind.

Turning to look into a shop, he evidently waved to a person inside to come out. "Allow me to introduce a friend of mine, who has just joined the regiment."

The man he waved out came to us with a very pleasing gait. But as soon as I recognized his face, I started.

"May I entreat the permission to introduce my friend, Mr. Wickham, who has returned with me the day before from London," said Mr. Denny. "He has happily accepted a commission in our corps."

Mr. Wickham made all the polite gestures necessary towards the Miss Bennets and their cousin, but when he turned to me, his face turned white just as mine began to turn red. I nodded civilly at him, which was as it was expected of by politeness, but I had a mind to give way to fury there on the street.

In another minute, Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham bade us good-bye, on the account of not "detaining the ladies on the street."

"He has just the right sort of appearance, does he not?" asked Lydia, clearly meaning Mr. Wickham. "I can hardly wait to see him in his regimentals." And she giggled with Catherine.

"He has a fine countenance, a good figure and a pleasing address," said Miss Bennet taking my arm in a friendly manner. "Do you not agree?"

"A gentleman could not have performed better," I agreed reluctantly. "Though his mannerism was particularly studied."

We walked on to Mrs. Philips', who was the aunt of the Miss Bennets, and inviting me to join them, I also entered.

"Let me assure you what a pleasure it is that we at last meet," gushed Mrs. Philips. "Your kindness to my niece Jane will always be remembered, so contrary it is to your brother's sort of disposition."

I blushed for my absent brother, and wondered who had turned informant. And what was being said of my brother that merited this undue comparison between us? I answered Mrs. Philips as best I could, although her company was more taxing than that of Mrs. Bennet. However, nothing was quite comparable to the speeches that Mr. Collins would make.

After a while, the subject of Mr. Wickham was once again mentioned, and while I sat uncomfortably throughout, I tried what I could to be as detached but interested as possible.

"Some of the officers are to dine with us tomorrow," said Mrs. Philips. "I'll make Mr. Philips call on Mr. Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if you would come in the evening."

Lydia quite cheered and laughed at the thought. "It would be unimaginably fun, won't it?"

"A nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards," said Mrs. Philips warmly. "Oh!" she said, remembering my presence, "Of course I will also extend my invitation to you."

I kindly declined the after-thought on the account of another engagement which I had to keep; relieved was I to not feel obliged to enter the same room as that of Mr. Wickham.

"I greatly admire Mrs. Philips' manners and politeness," said Mr. Collins when we walked back to Longbourn. "I protest that except for Lady Catherine and her daughter, and also Miss Darcy, I have never seen a more elegant woman, for had she not only received my with the utmost civility, but she even pointedly included me in her invitation for tomorrow evening, although myself being utterly unknown to her before. I suppose that might be attributed to my connection with the family, but yet, I have never met with so much attention in the whole course of my life."

Whilst waiting for Mr. Bennet's carriage, at the insistence of Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth and I sat outdoors talking about our walk.

"It would be impertinent of me to ask of your knowledge of Mr. Wickham, but I could not help but happen to see the countenance of your faces whilst passing in town," said Elizabeth.

For a moment, I did not know how to address the issue.

"Perhaps, it was only my imagination," she said hastily.

"Oh no," I owned, "It is quite true that we have met. The particulars, I do not wish to dwell upon, for the sake of delicacy, though I can say that Mr. Wickham was the son of my father's steward, and fell out of favour with our family." Young Georgiana came to my mind again-the memory of Ramsgate was almost too much to bear, to think that I had been away in Kent when I could have been there with her to prevent even Mr. Wickham's first influence on her!

"I will not inquire," apologized Elizabeth. "I am sorry that I mentioned it; clearly it was indelicate of me to expect an explanation of something that wholly does not concern me."

"It is true that we are not on the best of grounds, Mr. Wickham and my family. I will never forget the pain he caused us, particularly the hardship he placed upon Fitzwilliam."

"I am sorry," said Elizabeth again.

The carriage soon arrived, and I was relieved for my escape.

Chapter 6

He took it from me without looking up. Aggravated, I perched myself in a chair beside him until he took notice and asked,

"Have you something on your mind?"

"That must certainly be, if I continue to pester you with my presence."

Setting his book aside, he looked sternly at me. "If it be to the last subject which we discussed, I have no wish to open to again."

"It is not," I assured him. "But its nature is still grave. It arose from my walk to Meryton with the Bennets."

"I had advised you against it. You know quite well that your action must call for some discipline, and if you must tolerate the consequences of your conduct, then I am not the one to relinquish it. But recall that you are twenty, a young woman, and it would be a humiliation to watch over you with a governess by your side like you were sixteen again."

"Thank you for you speech," I said, "However, I have done nothing wrong this time. I do want you to know, though, that Mr. Wickham is in Meryton, with the ____th Regiment."

Fitz's face turned quite pale, not having expected such news.

"Has he come from town?" he asked at last. "A free man?"

"To the best of my knowledge, he came from London with a Mr. Denny, a friend of his who is also in the militia, and no allusion was made of his marriage state, that I can only presume that he has not been bonded."

"And he is really here? You did not mistaken his face for another?"

"I know Mr. Wickham," I cried, "Well enough his face to recognize him. He recognized me."

Fitz frowned and stood up to pace about the room. "And of course, Bingley's invitation will have to include him."

The reminder of Mr. Bingley's ball sent me into a whirl of thought.

"He will not come if he is of his right mind," I said decisively.

Fitz looked at me.

"You wonder at how I can be so certain," I said, "But just the sight of me today was enough to him to make him turn as pale as you had a moment ago when I said that I saw him in Meryton. He most likely feels his guilt most greatly, and will not come to a ball held by the friends of the family he so greatly misused."

"It is my hope that what you say will be true," said Fitz. "But we shall see."

"I have a grave feeling that Mr. Wickham's presence here will not be a good sign," I hesitantly added.

"Are you turned a gypsy now? Trusting to premonitions and augeries?" Fitz looked up at me. "We have done nothing that is worth the exposure. Certainly, Mr. Wickham has much more to lose than we."

The night of Mr. Bingley's ball came. It was something more splendid than I had ever thought Mr. Bingley capable of. I wove through the crowded room, hoping to catch a glimpse of some acquaintance that I might know. In retaliation, Miss Bingley had gone ahead and invited some of her own friends to the ball. They were the Grantleys, of whom Miss Bingley had mentioned so warmly. Miss Grantley was recently made the heiress of an aunt living in proximity to Netherfield (and therefore needed not make little designs for tables anymore), and her brother, Captain Grantley, of the royal navy, was beginning to make a fortune by a piece of property over in the western colonies.

"Miss Grantley, Miss Darcy," introduced Miss Bingley. "I believe you have met before?"

"On one occasion," said Miss Grantley. Although she was very beautiful, such fine, white complexion, and fashionably cropped gold hair, I thought her beauty was brought out only in the jewels and the glittering dress which she wore. She had a golden radiance about her, but it was one that rather disturbed than gave pleasure. "I think it was back at Miss Bingley's dinner party, on Grosvernor Street."

"Last winter," I agreed. I tried not to appear rude, although I wanted to have a word with Elizabeth Bennet.

"And how have you spent your time in Hertfordshire? You must really come and visit me at Galloway Towers. That is where we are staying this winter, with my aunt. Rather unusual, spending the winter in the country, but I suppose I should like it very much," continued Miss Grantley.

"Thank you, I should like to," I answered politely. "I do not know when my brother and I shall go back to London, but I shall be very glad to come to Galloway Towers."

"Tell me, what do you think of this music?" she asked. The orchestra was playing Bach, which was not exactly what I had expected to hear at a ball. But it was all Mr. Bingley's doing, and he knew very little about music except whether he liked the sound of something or not.

"I have been to very little dances and balls this past season," continued Miss Grantley. "I can not even say how many of these dances I remember, not having had time to practise or call for a dancing master."

"It will all be the standard ones," I assured her. "I do not believe Miss Bingley has requested any new or difficult piece for the ball."

I danced the first two dances with Captain Grantley, and on working our way down the set, I perceived Elizabeth with that foolish, pompous rector. Mr. Collins was too busy bowing apologies and turning wrong directions than attending to his partner, and it was too much of a humiliation to regard.

"Who is that gentleman?" asked Captain Grantley with a grin. "He seems not to know the difference between his left and right." Although I had no favourable feelings towards Mr. Collins, I did not like the way in which Captain Grantley so condescendingly spoke of him.

"He is a rector of my aunt's parish in Kent," I answered as dignified as possible. "He may not by in the regiment, the militia, or the navy, but he deserves some respect."

"I am sure at least that he receives some respect," observed Captain Grantley in amusement. "And who is the lady with him?"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of Longbourn."

"The little village near Meryton?"

"Yes, I believe so."

Captain Grantley had an enigmatic smile on his face. "Are you acquainted with Miss Bennet?"

I answered affirmatively.

"Will you do me the honour of introducing me to her at the close of the second dance?"

"If you so insist," I answered coldly. I had no wishes to engage Elizabeth's affections to another man, but as it was, I could hardly avoid it.

Luckily, before I had the chance to approach her, my brother was already on that side of the room asking for the next dance. From far away, I saw her open and close her mouth, then nodded her head. Yes Fitz, I thought, good for you!

Seeing that Elizabeth was already engaged, the captain turned back to me.

"In that case," he said with a cheery tone, "If you are not otherwise engaged for the next dance-"

Suddenly, someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned to see an officer in a red coat. I knew him immediately to be the gentleman who had resembled my sketch, or otherwise known as Mr. Denny.

"May I have the honour of addressing Miss Darcy?" he said with an air of outmost good breeding and gallantry. "May I have the honour of the next dance, if you are not yet engaged?"

"Thank you," I answered, noticing his good looks for the first time. I even began to like his voice better. "I am not engaged."

When the dancing recommenced, I watched Fitz lead Elizabeth to the centre with an air of dignity, and at the same time, I saw Mr. Denny come to claim my hand. I smiled graciously at him, and left the despicable Captain Grantley standing aloofly with the some other young ladies, who, I was sure, had already made themselves known to him without the application for the proper introduction.

Mr. Denny was amiable, friendly, and interesting, telling me much about the militia, and their duties.

"But I don't suppose young ladies have much interest in our doings," he apologized.

"Oh, no," I answered, trying not to sound eager, "I find it very fascinating indeed. If I had been born to be a gentleman, I am certain that I would have joined your noble ranks in the defence of the country."

"That is unique indeed," he commented with a smile. "I have been in societies where the mere mention of the army or the navy was enough to convince the people of our savagery. We would hardly be described by them as gentlemen."

"Meryton likes the militia well enough," I ventured to say.

"Yes-I think that it is one of the nicest villages in which the colonel has ever positioned us."

Just as I had begun to feel that we were on quite friendly grounds, I remembered with alarm that he was a friend of Mr. Wickham, and therefore must know something of the rift between the Wickham and Darcys. I told myself to be distant and civil, and nothing more.

"The gentleman with whom you were in Meryton," I said despite my resolution, "Have you known him long?"

"Mr. Wickham, you mean?" said Mr. Denny without a single change to his facial expression. "Not long, but we have been pretty good friends. I met him in London last summer, while I was applying to my uncle to help me with a commission."

"He appears to be a very...nice...gentleman," I said, shamefully tacking on the adjective.

"Yes, I believe he is universally liked where ever he goes," he answered enthusiastically for his friend.

"I suppose he is in Colonel Forster's regiment?" I said innocently. "I wonder that a great, tall gentleman like him does not enlist in the navy?"

Mr. Denny laughed. "The problem with the navy is that one must join when young, usually when one is nine or ten. No, Mr. Wickham's father was only a steward to a great family, and so could not have afforded such a living for his son."

I felt safe to know that Mr. Denny didn't realize Mr. Wickham's relations to us, or yet.

"Perhaps, though, his father's employer might have secured something for him?" I said.

"Perhaps. I believe Wickham said that he had been a great favourite with his father's employer-but the son of the family had been jealous of these affections and thrown him out soon after both fathers' death."

The dance had ended, but Mr. Denny accompanied to the refreshments.

"And did Mr. Wickham do nothing to deserve the treatment?" I asked casually.

"My friend told me that it had simply been the family pride and jealousy that formed the grounds of his dismissal."

"That is unfortunate indeed, if that really be the case," I said, not knowing whether to be amused or angry over this portrayal of my family. "But let us not talk of these misfortunes tonight."

"Yes, we shall not, especially as he is not here this evening."

"Was he not invited to the ball?"

"Oh, he did receive an invitation, but he could not come-sudden business called him away-but I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here."

"Who could that gentleman be?" I asked as if in gossip.

He gave a charming shake of the head. "I hardly know, he would not allude to the name. I have only to guess that it is some important person here, perhaps the very same man who was so involved in his misfortunes." He smiled at me and offered to fetch me a glass of punch, which I agreed to, despite myself.

While thus standing, I spied Miss Bingley making her way suavely to Elizabeth, and overheard snatches of their conversation, if it could be thus called.

"So, Miss Eliza," Miss Bingley cooed, "I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham!-Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand questions...the young man forgot to tell you...he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward...As to Mr. Darcy's using him ill...on the contrary, he has been always remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated Mr. Darcy, in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame...he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way. His coming into the country at all--I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite's guilt; but really, considering his descent one could not expect much better."

"His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same," said Elizabeth angrily, "for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself."

I then heard Miss Bingley apologize and turning away, she mumbled something about being kind in interfering.

I then approached Elizabeth, hoping to make some amends for Fitz.

"Elizabeth," I said with a friendly smile. "I have not had a chance to speak with you all evening." Looking at her dress admiringly, I added, "You look so well tonight."

"Thank you," she said, managing to return my smile, "You look quite beautiful tonight too."

"I'm sorry-I could not help but overhear some of your conversation with Miss Bingley."

Elizabeth hesitated. "And, I suppose you understood what was being said."

"I admit I was in quite close proximity to get a good understanding of it. But if there is one thing I want to make clear, it is that my brother has always conducted himself with probity and honour. I can vouch for them with all that I have that Fitzwilliam has always done what was proper in respect to Mr. Wickham."

"I suppose you wish me to fly into a warm defense of Mr. Wickham's character then, or into a fury over Mr. Darcy's conduct," said Elizabeth with an ill-managed laugh. "Viola, I know how you must feel towards your brother, and I see that it is all that is just and noble and admirable in a sister. Therefore, I will not hamper our friendship with the talk of your brother." She placed her hand on my arm. "I respect you sincerely for your attempt, and I thank you, but if what you say of your brother and Mr. Wickham is at all what Miss Bingley has just mentioned, you know that I have already heard them with a not unlistening ear."

"Please let me just say that Mr. Wickham has truly deserved much less attention from us than he has received, and I am sorry to say, how ever much this may damage our friendship, that Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. He has been imprudent and deserved to lose my brother's regard."

I imagine that at the end of this, my face had turned quite flushed, for simultaneously, Elizabeth's face grew angry, and sympathetic by degrees.

"I must say again, Viola, I do not mean any ill-will towards you. I do esteem our acquaintance. But further discussion of this between us will be an untold hardship on our friendship," said Elizabeth. She laughed. "And this is no place to be upset over anything," she added. "Would you like some refreshments?"

Mr. Denny just returned with a punch glass for me, so I could do nothing but decline Elizabeth's suggestion. She gave me a friendly wave, and went and joined her sister Miss Bennet.

Mr. Denny, who had not yet learnt of his friend's true connections with the Darcys, stood up with me the next dance, even though I told him that he should dance. Miss Lydia Bennet, I was sure, would not mind being asked after this dance. No, he told me firmly, he needed a little rest, and accordingly, we had a pleasant conversation, when I could disengage my mind from Elizabeth's trust in Wickham. I began to have a terrible feeling that I had only made matters worse by attempting to speak with her on that score.

Afterwards, the evening became disagreeable with the return of Captain Grantley, and although I did want to dance again, I had to decline and excuse myself on the account of "fatigue". He saw through it all, but was uncommonly good-natured and stayed by my side, and as Mr. Denny had gone to socialize with his fellow officers, I was left to my own exasperation.

"I don't see why you must be stubborn," Captain Grantley commented. "Why don't you enjoy yourself this evening? I've never met with any young ladies who were so anxious to sit down and look shunned by others."

"Thank you very much for that information," I replied, "I hope that was kindly meant."

Captain Grantley looked at me with a slightly hurt expression. "If you do wish me to go..."

"Please do. I would not want to detain you from your enjoyment."

At length, we had a supper of cold ham and chicken, which passed civilly enough, except when Mr. Collins took the idea to his head that he would introduce himself to Fitz. We endured his speeches for a full fifteen minutes before Fitz bowed slightly, and Mr. Collins took the hint to leave us well alone.

There was to be a musical display of talent then. Miss Mary Bennet made her way immediately to the pianoforte and began singing a Handel song, the tempo of a slow largo, which was mortifyingly out of tune with a ball. After we all politely clapped, she launched into another, equally hideous display, chanting, "My mother bid me bind my hair..." but before long, her father interrupted her with,

"That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit."

The poor Miss Mary Bennet looked rather disconcerted, but left quickly. Mr. Bingley began to apply for me to play a delightful tune or air when Mr. Collins decided that he would delight the company with one of his sermons,

"If I were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman. I do not mean however to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The rector of a parish has much to do..."

My mind had drifted off to think of what a wonderful display it would be to tuck Mr. Collins neatly into one of Aunt Catherine's hedgerows, and let him chant all he liked at no one's expense but that of my aunt's ears.

Many stared at the conclusion of his speech, others smiled. Mrs. Hurst quickly made her way to the pianoforte to clear the air with a brisk, quick Rondo Alla Turka, at a faster tempo than ever I had heard it. But it never fell apart, and she finished it with a look of great satisfaction and pompery. She stood up, casting us all a glance filled with triumph.

How lucky that at least someone felt the evening to be a success.

Author's Note: If you would like to visit my site:

Brevity and Wits

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