Section I, Next Section
Chapter 1
Elizabeth was not at all concerned about having to sit out the dance. Truth be told she actually felt a small, smug sense of triumph over managing to avoid a certain potential partner once again - and sitting out the set was a small price to pay for continued freedom from his attentions.
She congratulated herself on her successful maneuvering, and allowed herself a smile as she looked across to see her enthusiastic admirer dancing instead with Kitty. Perhaps he was finally getting the hint that his interest was not reciprocated. It then occurred to her that she'd already promised the remaining few dances of the evening, and she relaxed with the satisfaction of knowing she'd successfully side-stepped Mr. Henry Elton for the whole of the assembly.
Appreciating the opportunity she now had to sit back and observe, Elizabeth chose to sit in a quieter corner of the hall rather than join the matrons in their gossip, or the other girls who had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit out the two dances.
As she cast her eye around the room she was pleasantly surprised to see Mary, who didn't get the opportunity to dance as frequently as her sisters, standing up with one of the Lucas boys. Continuing to run her eye down the couples, her smile broadened as she discerned Jane, again with Mr. Bingley. Her sister's countenance showed a restrained pleasure at being afforded the honour of partnering this amiable and handsome man for a second time that evening. Bingley had requested Elizabeth's hand for the two dances that would follow, but as she could already discern a promising inclination toward her older sister, she fully intended to make Jane the topic of conversation during her own dances with Bingley.
Bingley's sisters were also both standing up in this set, Mrs. Hurst with her husband, a young foppish looking man, and Miss Bingley with the eldest Witherspoon boy. The look of condescending patience on Miss Bingley's face amused Elizabeth no end. She had already come to the conclusion that the sisters were not nearly as amiable as the brother, and she enjoyed the fact that Miss Bingley looked somewhat discomforted. Actually, it occurred to Elizabeth, she'd not seen Miss Bingley look comfortable once over the whole course of the evening... not even during her dances with the superior looking Mr. Darcy - then she looked as if she were trying too hard to be the perfect partner.
Mr. Darcy, she thought to herself, was an odd one indeed, and she wondered at him being such good friends with the open and personable Mr. Bingley. Aside from dancing only once with each of the Bingley sisters, he'd spent the evening roaming the room and looking generally unapproachable.
It was only upon Bingley's taking a moment from Jane and drawing quite near, that she discerned that Mr. Darcy was, at that moment, actually standing close by - close enough, if fact, to enable Elizabeth to clearly overhear the beginnings of their conversation.
``Come, Darcy,'' Bingley began, ``I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.''
``I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.''
Elizabeth suppressed a smirk at his arrogance, and was pleased to hear Mr. Bingley rejoin with a defense.
``I would not be so fastidious as you are,'' cried Bingley, ``for a kingdom! Upon my honour I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, as I have this evening; and there are several of them, you see, uncommonly pretty.''
Elizabeth, however did not get to hear Mr. Darcy's reply, as Charlotte had discovered her hiding place, and approached to claim her attention.
"Lizzy! So here you are. When I saw you'd managed to evade this dance with Mr. Elton, I felt sure you'd join our circle for conversation."
"I might have Charlotte, but I'm afraid Mother has been too much inspired by the sight of Jane receiving a second invitation to dance with Mr. Bingley, and I decided to maintain my distance in order to escape from her effusions. I'll have enough of it on the way home. Sadly, in a carriage, there's no means of escape."
"I'm surprised he didn't ask you to dance Lizzy - politeness really would have required it."
"Oh, he has - for the next two - but I think I may have been rather an afterthought," Elizabeth grinned, "...and who can blame him? Jane looks absolutely stunning again this evening, and the animation her pleasure has given her, makes her look more beautiful still."
"She does look lovely," Charlotte replied, "but really Lizzy, I wouldn't undervalue yourself. You might still have a chance if you play your cards right during your dance... you have both beauty and spirit."
The dignified Mr. Darcy turned as he heard laughter from the girl he had just described as 'tolerable' to his friend. He was momentarily caught by the humour in her countenance, and by her laughter's natural ring, before reminding himself of the lack of fashionable decorum that such frivolity displayed, and walking away.
"You can be so funny Charlotte," Elizabeth countered. "Why would I want to cut my sister out?"
"Well," Charlotte replied, ever the advocate for the promotion of her pretty young friend, "Maybe you'll get an opportunity to try for his friend."
Elizabeth felt a burst of apprehension, and looked up quickly, fearing that Mr. Darcy might still be close enough to overhear her friend's comment. It was with relief she discerned he had moved to the other end of the room.
"I think Charlotte," Elizabeth replied, her cheekiness rising with her relief, "that Mr. Darcy is a little too enamoured with himself , and is unlikely to have time, or inclination, for anyone of our society."
"Come now Lizzy, I'm sure you're judging him too quickly. You've not even spoken with the man."
"I may have not exchanged words with him Charlotte, but his behaviour and manners speak volumes."
"He may just be of a reserved nature," Charlotte countered. "We really have no basis to assume otherwise."
"Ah ... but here I have the advantage over you." Elizabeth smiled triumphantly. "Only minutes ago I overheard him tell his friend it would be a punishment to stand up with anyone outside his party... I kid you not."
"Are you certain you heard quite correctly Lizzy?"
"Yes quite certain. He hates dancing and 'it would be quite insupportable at an assembly such as this'," Lizzy finished off in a superior clipped tone.
Charlotte looked a warning at her friend.
"I wouldn't be so eager to Judge Lizzy," she said with seriousness a little alien to their conversation so far. "His pride doesn't offend me so much as pride often does, because there's an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune, every thing in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud.''
Elizabeth took a moment to reflect on her friend's words, before answering with equal seriousness.
"That may be true, but it doesn't necessarily follow that in order to think highly of ones-self, that you have to think meanly of others... No, I reserve my right to think what I will of the man."
Chapter 2
The next few weeks gave Elizabeth a number of opportunities to again observe the newcomers, and these only served to confirm her initial assessments of the occupants of Netherfield. She still discerned a superciliousness in the Bingley sisters' treatment of everyone, hardly even excepting Jane, who'd been adopted by them as a particular favourite, and Mr. Darcy remained the man who thought himself above his company, and made himself agreeable no-where. Mr. Bingley though, continued to prove himself pleasant and amiable, and his admiration of Jane only became more evident.
Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly unaware.
He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. He even managed to exchange a few words with her before, upon the urgings of Charlotte, she was obliged to leave their circle and move to the instrument.
Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always impatient for display.
Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who, with some of the Lucases and two or three officers, joined eagerly in dancing at one end of the room.
Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too much engrossed by his own thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas was his neighbour, till Sir William thus began.
``What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! -- There is nothing like dancing after all. -- I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies.''
``Certainly, Sir -- and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.''
Sir William only smiled. ``Your friend performs delightfully;'' he continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group, ``and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy.''
``You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, Sir.''
``Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do you often dance at St. James's?''
``Never, sir.''
``Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?''
``It is a compliment which I never pay to any place, if I can avoid it.''
``You have a house in town, I conclude?''
Mr. Darcy bowed.
``I had once some thoughts of fixing in town myself -- for I am fond of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of London would agree with Lady Lucas.''
He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed to make any; and seeing Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was struck with the notion of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to her,
``My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you.'' And taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy, who, though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William,
``Indeed, Sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.''
Mr. Darcy with grave propriety requested to be allowed the honour of her hand; and Elizabeth was almost persuaded to take it. She might have, had she not recalled anew his disdainful comment about there being 'no woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to stand up with' at the Meryton assembly.
``You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half hour.''
``Mr. Darcy is all politeness,'' said Elizabeth, smiling.
``He is indeed -- but considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance; for who would object to such a partner?''
Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away.
Her resistance had not injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some complacency when he was, only a few minutes later, accosted by Miss Bingley.
Her voice, though conspiratorial, was not low enough to prevent it from being heard by Elizabeth, who was at that moment moving close by at the back of them, as she returned to again seek Charlotte's company.
``I can guess the subject of your reverie.''
``I should imagine not,'' Darcy replied.
``You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner -- in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity and yet the noise; the nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people! -- What would I give to hear your strictures on them!''
Feeling, despite her indignation, that discretion was the greater part of valour, Elizabeth was about to move away, determining she'd rather not be privy to the derisive or condescending agreement that would doubtless follow from Darcy's lips, but instead she was taken completely by surprise at his assertion that Miss Bingley's conjecture was totally wrong, and that his mind was more agreeably engaged.
"I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.''
As Miss Bingley fixed her eyes on his face, desiring him to tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections, Elizabeth began to stealthily remove herself from her awkward and unwanted position as eaves-dropper - the idea of being to privy to an intimate moment between these two, being almost as offensive as being privy to their condescension.
Elizabeth's thoughts thus engaged, Mr. Darcy managed to take her completely by surprise - for a second time that evening - with his intrepid reply...
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
Chapter 3
Moments of reflection in the days that followed, were insufficient for Elizabeth to reconcile herself with that which she had overheard between Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of admiration to so great a man, but was unable to deny the testimony of her own ears. Although she had determined to put the matter aside and not think on it again, she found her mind sometimes returning to it in unguarded moments, and was never quite able to make sense of it.
She had been in the same company as Mr. Darcy on a number of occasions now, and the Lucas's party was the first occasion on which he had spoken to her. Now she thought on it, Mr. Darcy had not initiated either of the short exchanges they'd shared; the first she began herself, as an impertinent reaction to his attending to her conversation with Colonel Forster, and the second was only due to Sir William's interference. She had no assurance that he would have even spoken to her had he been left to his own devices.
Maybe Elizabeth would have been able to make more sense of that which she'd heard had she been able to talk it over with someone else, but she dare not. She would keep this one to tight to herself, knowing that her mother would be unbearable if she picked up even the slightest inking, that Mr. Darcy might find one of her daughters attractive.
Elizabeth couldn't help smiling at the humour of situation though, and she found it amusing on more levels that one. Firstly, she was unable to forget the look between disbelief and disgust that had crossed Caroline's face upon Darcy's disclosure. It was obvious that Caroline had expected to hear her own name, at least quite as much as Elizabeth had expected to hear it, and Lizzy found it hard not to feel a little evil pleasure at the disappointment of such a 'superior' and self-important woman.
Her second source of amusement was her own ill luck in regard to the men she seemed to attract. Having just managed to dissuade the persistent and earnest Mr. Henry Elton from his pursuit, it seemed perverse indeed, that she had apparently gained the attention of another man whom she could just not like.
Doubtless he was good looking, there was no denying of that... actually, he was more than good looking... he was very handsome indeed... and his figure was unquestionably tall and striking... and he had an easy independence, an established estate... and there was a part of her which found pleasure in being able to catch the eye of such a man... Still, Elizabeth reminded herself, pulling her mind from where it had wandered, he was also an incredibly condescending an arrogant man, which rather spoilt the picture.
"Well," Elizabeth consoled herself, "it seems rather unlikely that he will lower himself to pay me any particular attention, and if he does, at least I'm forewarned against giving anything that might be construed as encouragement."
Elizabeth's thoughts on the subject faded however, as days passed with no personal contact at all with the Netherfield party. Jane, who has been claimed as a particular friend by the Bingley sisters, had received an invitation to visit with the women, but as Elizabeth had made no effort to become in anyway intimate with the two, she had not been included in this hospitable request. This created no jealousy for the younger sister, and in fact she found herself rather more than relieved that she was not in Jane's position, when Jane became trapped at Netherfield over night due to a heavy fall of rain.
Elizabeth found now, that thoughts of Mr. Darcy were easily put aside when considerations of her sister were foremost in her mind, and this was certainly the case upon Elizabeth's reading the note that she received from Jane on the morning following Jane's visit to the Netherfield ladies.
My dearest Lizzy,I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not hear of my returning home till I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr. Jones -- therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been to me -- and excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter with me.
Yours, &c.'
She felt resentment anew at Mrs. Bennet's instance, on the preceding day, that Jane not take the carriage in answer to her invitation to Netherfield. The mother's hopes that her daughter might become stranded at Mr. Bingley's home if the weather turned bad, had certainly come to fruition, but in the sister's mind a mild concern had arisen since the rain had indeed arrived, and now this letter confirmed her uneasiness.
``Well, my dear,'' said Mr. Bennet, ``if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness, if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders.''
``Oh! I am not at all afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long is she stays there, it is all very well. I would go and see her, if I could have the carriage.''
Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman, walking was her only alternative. She declared her resolution.
``How can you be so silly,'' cried her mother, ``as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get there.''
``I shall be very fit to see Jane -- which is all I want.''
``Is this a hint to me, Lizzy,'' said her father, ``to send for the horses?''
``No, indeed. I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing, when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner.''
On the way to Netherfield Elizabeth worked off some of her indignation toward her mother, crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last within view of the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise.
She gave little thought to what the occupants of Netherfield might think, until just before she was shown into the breakfast-parlour, and took only a short moment to slightly adjust her dress to cover a little of the mud she had accumulated during her walk.
All but Jane were assembled, and she could not fail to notice her appearance created a great deal of surprise. -- That she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that they held her in contempt for it. She was received, however, very politely by them; and in their brother's manners there was something better than politeness; there was good humour and kindness.
Mr. Darcy said very little, but Elizabeth found it impossible not to try to somewhat assess his reaction. That he was looking at her with some interest, she could not deny, but she was unable to read his thoughts from his expression... which was really not surprising, as Mr. Darcy was having difficulty in determining his thoughts himself. He was too divided between admiration of the brilliancy, which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion's justifying her coming so far alone.
Her enquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish and not well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her immediately; and on her way to Jane's room, only had time to think briefly, that her dishevelled appearance that morning was probably enough to put an end to any of Mr. Darcy's admiration.
Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving alarm or inconvenience, from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal, however, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them together, could attempt little beside expressions of gratitude for the extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended her.
When breakfast was over, they were joined by the sisters, and Elizabeth began to like them herself, when she saw how much affection and solicitude they showed for Jane, whose feverish symptoms increased, and whose head ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment, nor were the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had in fact nothing to do elsewhere.
When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go; and very unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane testified such concern in parting with her that Miss Bingley was obliged to convert the offer of the chaise into an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the present. Elizabeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay, and bring back a supply of clothes.
AT five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half past six Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. She found herself very glad for the clothes her mother had sent, but was a little annoyed at herself at the same time for being so concerned that her appearance that evening should make up somewhat, for her state upon her arrival that morning. Despite telling herself that she did not care to impress anyone, she could not help but take special care with her hair, dress, and toilet, before going downstairs.
The small surge of triumph she felt upon discerning Darcy's interest as she entered the room, showed her clearly that there had been some dishonesty in denying that she was trying to impress, and she could not help but feel a little hypocritical in knowing that, on some level, she liked Darcy's attention - despite disliking the man himself.
To the civil enquiries which then poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley's, she could not make a very favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked being ill themselves, and then thought no more of the matter; and their indifference towards Jane, when not immediately before them, restored Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her original dislike.
When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, so was not party to the conversation that immediately took place upon her leaving the room.
Miss Bingley wasted no time in beginning her abuse. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no stile, no taste, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added,
``She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild.''
``She did indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. 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!''
``Yes, and her petticoat; 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.''
``Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,'' said Bingley; ``but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well, when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.''
``You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure,'' said Miss Bingley, ``and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition.''
``Certainly 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.''
``It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,'' said Bingley.
``I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,'' observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, ``that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.''
``Not at all,'' he replied; ``they were brightened by the exercise."
Chapter 4
Jane was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not quit her at all till late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her asleep, and when it appeared to her rather right than pleasant that she should go down stairs herself. She still felt a little awkward, after catching herself caring as to Mr. Darcy's opinion of her, and she now wanted to spend as little time in his company as possible. She was more than determined to continue her dislike of the man.
On entering the drawing room she found the whole party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but wishing to maintain some distance, she declined it, and making her sister the excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay below with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.
``Do you prefer reading to cards?'' said he; ``that is rather singular.''
``Miss Eliza Bennet,'' said Miss Bingley, ``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 have pleasure in many things.''
``In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure,'' said Bingley; ``and I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her quite well.''
Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards a table where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her others; all that his library afforded.
``And 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.''
Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those in the room.
``I am astonished,'' said Miss Bingley, ``that my father should have left so small a collection of books. -- What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!''
Elizabeth chided herself as she found her interest caught by this reference to Mr. Darcy's home, and his feeling for books.
``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.''
``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.''
``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.''
``With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it.''
``I am talking of possibilities, Charles.''
``Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get Pemberley by purchase than by imitation.''
Elizabeth was so much caught by what passed, that despite her resolution to remain somewhat aloof, she could summon very little attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and his eldest sister to observe the game.
``Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?'' said Miss Bingley; ``will she be as tall as I am?''
``I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or rather taller.''
Elizabeth was struck by this comparison to her person, and so apparently was Miss Bingley, who quickly moved to redirect the subject.
``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! Her performance on the piano-forte is exquisite.''
``It is amazing to me,'' said 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 Darcy, ``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 Miss Bingley.
``Then,'' observed Elizabeth, pleased to find more evidence of his disdain for people generally, ``you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished women.''
``Yes; I do comprehend a great deal in it.''
``Oh! certainly,'' cried his faithful assistant, ``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.''
Elizabeth could not suppress a slight smile at such a demanding list of essentials, and wondered if even the great Mr. Darcy could expect such accomplishment in the one woman. She found it even more difficult to contain her smile as he went so far as to add to it.
``All this she must possess,'' added Darcy, ``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.''
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who answered this description, completely oblivious to the inconsistency of such a position, after their claims of only a few moments ago.
A look at Mr. Darcy showed however, that the irony of sudden change of opinion had not been lost on him, and before Mr. Hurst was able to call everyone's attention back to the game, she had time to reflect that though he was, without a doubt, demanding and critical, he was by no means stupid.
As all conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the room, glad to have her initial opinion of Mr. Darcy's arrogance and vanity again confirmed, as she again reiterated to herself would not like the man!
Chapter 5
The afternoon of the day that followed, found Lizzy 'hiding' in Jane's room, watching over her sleeping sister, and trying to force aside the sense of embarrassment she felt over the visit of her mother and two youngest sisters that morning. It had been on her own suggestion that her mother had come to appraise the situation in regard to Jane's illness. Elizabeth's love and concern for Jane had given some doubt in regard her personal, and cautiously positive, assessment of Jane's health, and she had dearly desired a second opinion to confirm her own.
Though she had found comfort in her mother's view that Jane's illness was not alarming, she now wondered whether the solace she'd received was worth the shame she had suffered each time her mother had opened her mouth during the course of her visit.
Her mother's boasting of Jane's beauty, her meanness about Charlotte's plain countenance and domestic duties, and even her public censure of Elizabeth for 'running on in a wild manner', paled to insignificance in comparison with her misguided and ill-informed outburst to Mr Darcy. He must have wondered how such an innocuous comment on the number of subjects for the study of character, could receive such an aggressive response.
She blushed again as he thought of her mother's ill considered and inane tirade against 'that man', while she stood by wishing that the floor could open up and swallow her.
She was grateful though, that Mr Darcy had been gentlemanly enough not to retaliate, and that Mr Bingley had performed the work of a consummate diplomat in soothing Mrs Bennet on the occasion. She had noticed too, that Mr Darcy had not carried any resentment he might justly feel for her mother, over to herself, and she felt a little relief as she recalled his later comment on poetry being the food of love, and his smile at her, admittedly flippant and impatient, reply. It was nice to know that he did have a sense of humour somewhere beneath his forbidding facade... and it was rather nice to see him smile...
That night, even more than the last, Elizabeth simply wished she could stay in the privacy of her own or Jane's room, but she knew she could not avoid the others in the house forever. After again taking care with her dress and presentation, she ventured down stairs, and joined the party in the drawing room.
The loo table, did not appear this evening. Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching the progress of his letter, and repeatedly calling off his attention by messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.
Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Darcy 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 Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!''
He made no answer.
``You write uncommonly fast.''
``You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.''
``How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of the year! Letters of business too! How odious I should think them!''
``It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours.''
``Pray tell your sister that I long to see her.''
``I have already told her so once, by your desire.''
``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?''
He was silent.
By this time Elizabeth was fighting to contain a smirk. For a woman of some understanding, Miss Bingley was certainly deficient on knowing when to take a hint.
``Tell your sister 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.''
As often was the case, Mr Darcy skated very close to the edge of rudeness in his reply, the dryness in his tone making his exasperation more than obvious. Elizabeth was therefore amazed at Miss Bingley's perseverance, as she again interrupted his writing.
``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, it is not for me to determine.''
``It is a rule with 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 her brother -- ``because he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. -- Do not you, Darcy?''
Elizabeth could not help but grin at Bingley's sally at Darcy.
``My style of writing is very different from yours,'' Darcy replied with a slight smile to his friend.
``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 Darcy, finding himself more willing to talk now that Elizabeth looked likely to join the conversation, ``than 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?''
``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. The power of doing any thing with quickness is always much prized by the possessor, and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs. Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved on quitting 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 Bingley, ``this is too much, to remember at night all the foolish things that 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, therefore, 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. Your conduct would be quite as dependant on chance as that of any man I know; and 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,'' Elizabeth interjected, perceiving that her host might find himself slightly outweighed in this battle of wits, ``that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself.''
``I am exceedingly gratified,'' said Bingley, ``by your converting what my friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means intend; for he would certainly think the better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I could.''
``Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intention as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?''
``Upon my word I cannot exactly explain the matter; Darcy must speak for himself.''
``You expect me to account for opinions which you chose to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged," Darcy objected. "Allowing the case, however, to stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one argument in favour of its propriety.''
``To yield readily -- easily -- to the persuasion of a friend is no merit with you," Elizabeth returned calmly, not put off by the force of his argument.
``To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either,"
``You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make one readily yield to a request without waiting for arguments to reason one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the circumstance occurs, before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend, where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?''
``Will it not be advisable," Darcy replied, both taken aback, and amused, by her tenacity, "before we proceed on this subject, to arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting between the parties?''
``By all means,'' cried Bingley; ``Let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. 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 aweful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening when he has nothing to do.''
Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was rather offended; and therefore checked her laugh. She also took note that Bingley could look after himself, even when the superior Mr Darcy was involved.
``I see your design, Bingley,'' said his friend. -- ``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.''
Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter, despite finding it more difficult to concentrate than before, even though Miss Bingley had finally ceased her interjections. Thoughts of Miss Elizabeth Bennet's challenging eyes and quickness of opinion were too much in the forefront of his mind.
The end of his letter may not have been quite as communicative as he might have wished, but as he realised he would not do better, he sealed it and applied instead to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth for the indulgence of some music.
Miss Bingley moved with alacrity to the piano-forte, and after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead the way, which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, she seated herself.
Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed, Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music books that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed on her.
Had she not known of his admiration, such an examination might have confused her. As it was, she still found it a little difficult to believe that she'd caught the eye of such a great, and generally aloof, man. His gaze however, did have the power to discomfort her, as it carried with it something like an air of disapproval, not of herself exactly, but possibly of the fact that he was drawn to someone so decidedly beneath himself. This supposition did not pain her and she told herself, yet again, that she did not care for his approbation.
After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near Elizabeth, said to her --
``Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?''
She smiled, but made no answer. The truth was that his application had surprised her so completely that she knew not how to reply. The quickness of mind which had been very much with her as she'd defended Bingley only a short time before, had wholly deserted her. Now she struggled between a puzzlement, given her knowledge of his customary dislike of dance, and a treacherous feeling of pleasure at his invitation. These feelings were overlaid too, by a scepticism born of her early notice of his general disdain, and a certitude that she should discourage any particular attention toward herself.
He repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence.
``Oh!'' said she, ``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 me if you dare.''
``Indeed I do not dare.''
Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in some danger.
Chapter 6
The truth was that Elizabeth was more struck by Darcy's gallantry than she wished to be, and in her perversity found herself actually wishing that he'd been offended, or at least that little bit cutting, in return for her impertinent reply to his invitation to dance.
Over the last few days, certain aspects of Darcy's behaviour had confused the rather set opinion she'd formed of him earlier in their acquaintance, and she was finding it just that little bit harder to maintain an enjoyment in her professed dislike of the man. Though she continued to recognise in his manner, an arrogance and unforgiving cynicism, it was hard not to be equally struck by his intelligence, and by his gentlemanly decorum even in the face of an overt challenge.
Elizabeth found however, that her better understanding of his essentials, despite making her more sensible to the compliment of his admiration, did not make her wish to encourage his attentions any further, as the disdain with which he viewed so much of the world was, to put it simply, too much to overlook.
She was glad to put her musings on the man aside the next morning, in order to take a stroll around the gardens at the request of Mrs Hurst. Some of the pleasure of the walk was lost though, as her companion made known her annoyance at Miss Bingley and Mr Darcy for having walked out earlier without advising her of their intention. On the most part Elizabeth simply listened to Mrs Hurst's lament, but upon her sitting down for a moment to remove an irritation from her shoe, Lizzy walked a little ahead on her own... but she began to turn back as she discerned the voices from another walk.
"...And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence, which your lady possesses,'' came Miss Bingley's voice, a little distant, but still quite audible.
``Have you any thing else to propose for my domestic felicity?'' Darcy replied coolly.
``Oh! yes. -- Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Philips be placed in the gallery at Pemberley."
It was only at this point that Elizabeth began to comprehend that she was the subject of this little derision, and she stopped dead in her tracks as she felt feel the indignation begin to rise within her.
"Put them next to your great uncle, the judge. They are in the same profession, you know; only in different lines," Caroline continued, obviously well amused by her own wit. "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," Darcy answered, quite effectively silencing Miss Bingley's laugh, " but their colour and shape, and the eye-lashes, so remarkably fine, might be copied.''
At that moment, Elizabeth was caught up with by Mrs. Hurst and she had no real time to recover before, from around the corner, they found themselves face to face with the couple to whom she had just been listening.
``I did not know that you intended to walk,'' said Miss Bingley, in some confusion, lest they had been overheard.
``You used us abominably ill,'' answered Mrs. Hurst, ``in running away without telling us that you were coming out.'' Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walk by herself. The path just admitted three.
Mr. Darcy felt their rudeness and immediately said, --
``This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the avenue.''
But Elizabeth, who, unsurprisingly, had not the least inclination to remain with them, pertly answered,
``No, no; stay where you are. -- You are charmingly group'd, and appear to uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a fourth. Good bye.''
She then ran off, rejoicing in her freedom from their company as she rambled about, trying to arrange her thoughts into some kind of recognisable order.
Although she was already aware of Miss Bingley's duplicity in behaviour, and had more than once suspected her of talking behind the backs of herself and Jane, actually hearing it oneself still had the power to shock. At first Elizabeth found herself rather more angry than she would have expected. The easy and supercilious derision of her uncle's occupation effected her even more than the comments on herself. What right did that woman have to judge people she'd not even met, based solely on their occupation. Oh! the insufferable arrogance!
She would have been very happy to lay the same charges at the feet of Mr Darcy, but even she had to admit that at that point, the case against him was rather lacking in evidence. His tone had been just as it was the previous evening when he had been trying to cut off Miss Bingley's commentary on his letter, he did not appear to have shared any of her amusement, and certainly had not joined in her mockery. On top of which she could hardly be insensitive to his compliment - her cheeks warmed simply on recalling it.
Still, in Elizabeth's mind there was something in Mr Darcy's behaviour that continued to not sit easily with her. Exasperated, she determined not to return indoors until she could come closer to the root of her discomfort, and more than an hour later, when she felt she may have answered her dilemma, she was unsure of who she was most cross with, Mr Darcy or herself!
Despite her initial impression upon first overhearing his censure on "an assembly such as this", Elizabeth had no real complaint against his manners toward her, other than his general his general aloofness, that was. In truth, she found it hard to recall an occasion where he'd been overtly rude, unsociable - yes, but rude - no. Quite conversely, she could actually recall occasions, one only last evening, where his decorum went further than the simple demands of etiquette.
In this was Elizabeth's difficulty, as she had to admit to herself that it was not really his manners which she found upsetting, but possibly his lack of particular attention to herself. True, she had often caught him looking at her, but he had never really gone out of his way to speak with her, to court her company, or even seek her good opinion. Despite being obviously attracted to her, it was equally clear that he had determined not to act upon that attraction.
Elizabeth's beauty and her spirit of fun, had garnered her possibly more than her fair share of unwanted admirers over the years, and as had been the case with Mr Elton, she had needed to keep that one step ahead of them in order to discourage their attentions. Mr Darcy was another matter though. As she had no desire for his admiration, should she not now have been pleased with his restraint rather than frustrated by it?
Elizabeth could only conclude that it was the judgement implicit in his cool control, which annoyed her so much. His unwillingness to act strongly indicated, as she'd assumed last evening, that he felt either her worth, or her family connections, too far beneath him to allow himself any movement where she was concerned, despite his being drawn to her personally.
Elizabeth was pragmatic enough to appreciate the social and fiscal considerations which those of consequence consulted, almost invariably, when contemplating appropriate alliance, yet somehow Darcy's controlled adherence to the demands of civic protocol in this regard, had the capacity to truly irk her. In a way, she understood that she despised his pride... but it was only because her own pride was affronted, and she was honest enough to recognise the contradiction in such feelings. She also chided her own contrariness in desiring the attentions from him, which she would not have wanted to reciprocate.
Given the dilemma of her conflicted musings, she rambled about the gardens for a long time more, encouraged in the hope of being at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recovered as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening.
Chapter 7
When the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the first object. Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned towards Darcy, and she had something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed himself directly to Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst also made her a slight bow, and said he was ``very glad;'' but diffuseness and warmth remained for Bingley's salutation. He was full of joy and attention. The first half hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she should suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desire to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be farther from the door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to any one else. Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, although still feeling quite conflicted regarding the presence of Mr Darcy, saw it all with great delight.
When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the card-table -- but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr. Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst soon found even his open petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and the silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to justify her. Mr. Hurst had therefore nothing to do but to stretch himself on one of the sophas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same; and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and rings, joined now and then in her brother's conversation with Miss Bennet.
Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in watching Mr. Darcy's progress through his book, as in reading her own; and she was perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. She could not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely answered her question, and read on. At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be amused with her own book, which she had only chosen because it was the second volume of his, 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.''
No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her book, and cast her eyes round the room in quest of some amusement; when, hearing her brother mentioning 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,'' cried her brother, ``he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins -- but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough I shall send round my cards.''
``I should like balls infinitely better,'' she replied, ``if they were carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the day.''
``Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a ball.''
Elizabeth almost laughed out loud at this dry reply, and shot a grin at Bingley.
Miss Bingley made no answer though; and soon afterwards got up and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well; -- but Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In the desperation of her feelings she resolved on one effort more; and turning to Elizabeth, said,
``Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. -- I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.''
Elizabeth was surprised, but owned she would like to walk. Miss Bingley succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy looked up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. He was directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing that he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which motives his joining them would interfere. ``What could he mean? she was dying to know what could be his meaning'' -- and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all understand him?
``Not at all,'' was her answer; ``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.''
Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in any thing, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his two motives.
``I have not the smallest objection to explaining them,'' said he, as soon as she allowed him to speak. ``You either choose 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; -- if the first, I should be completely in your way; -- and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.''
``Oh! shocking!'' cooed Miss Bingley, immensely pleased at her inclusion in the compliment. ``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, willing Miss Bingley to be just that little less fawning where Darcy was concerned. ``We can all plague and punish one another. Teaze 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. Teaze 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,'' said he, ``has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.''
``Certainly,'' replied Elizabeth -- ``there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. -- But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.''
``Perhaps that is not possible for any one. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.''
``Such as vanity and pride.'' She'd been unable to help herself. The challenge was out there now, whether she liked it or not.
``Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed, But pride..." replied Darcy, cooling holding her eye as he answered her charge, "...where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.''
Elizabeth gave him an arch look before turning away to hide a smile.
``Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume,'' said Miss Bingley; -- ``and pray what is the result?''
``I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise.''
``No'' -- said Darcy, unable to not be at least a little amused at Elizabeth's twisting of his words, ``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," he went on rather candidly. "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,'' he replied with a smile, ``is wilfully to misunderstand them.''
``Do let us have a little music,'' -- cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share. -- ``Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst.''
Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the piano-forte was opened, and Darcy, after a few moments recollection, was not sorry for it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention.
Elizabeth, all too taken aback by his smile, was not sorry for it either. There was something altogether too unsettling about this man.
Chapter 8
Mrs. Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the carriage before Tuesday; and in her postscript it was added that, if Mr. Bingley and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well. -- Against staying longer, however, Elizabeth was positively resolved -- nor did she much expect it would be asked; and fearful, on the contrary, as being considered as intruding themselves needlessly long, she urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley's carriage immediately, and at length it was settled that their original design of leaving Netherfield that morning should be mentioned, and the request made.
The communication excited many professions of concern; and enough was said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day, to work on Jane; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Miss Bingley was then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other.
The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be safe for her -- that she was not enough recovered; but Jane was firm where she felt herself to be right.
To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence -- Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked -- and Miss Bingley was uncivil to her, and more teazing than usual to himself. He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weight in confirming or crushing it.
Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday morning, and though they were at one time left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.
Truth be told though, he needn't have expended such an effort in this regard, because Elizabeth was equally determined to be withdrawn from him!. On two occasions she had waited for him to vacate a room before entering it, and she had been very tempted to leave the library upon being forced to share it after the appearance Mr Darcy, but had decided that such an action would be allowing him too much influence over her behaviour. Instead, she remained in her seat, determined to be unaffected, and tried to concentrate on finishing her book.
Finish it she did, but in her state of distraction it took her at least twice as long as she would have anticipated, even though the novel was really a compelling tale. With the satisfaction of having completed the story, Elizabeth stood to return the book to its place. Her annoyance at Mr Darcy's presence was therefore multiplied as she recalled that the book belonged to a shelf just outside her comfortable reach, and that it would no doubt demonstrate a lack of decorum if she were to pull up a foot stool to stand on, in the same way she had procured the book in the first place.
As she stood on her toes and stretched up to try to return the volume, she became aware of someone's eyes upon her, and turned to find herself being regarded with a look which held both appreciation, and amusement. Determined not to show herself self-conscious in his presence, she returned his gaze and added a challenge.
"Mr Darcy, you may enjoy sitting there simply as a spectator to my predicament, but a true gentlemen might offer some assistance."
"At your service Miss Bennet," Darcy replied in an insouciant manner which belied his actual feelings. Miss Bennet was altogether too distracting.
'Distracted' though would be a vast understatement for what Elizabeth was about to feel upon the approach of Mr Darcy. He took the book from her hand, and without waiting for Elizabeth to move reached above her, effectively trapping her in her place, not simply to reposition the book in its place, but also to take the time to straighten the surrounding books she had managed to disturb in her vain attempt to restore the book herself.
Elizabeth was, all of a sudden, acutely aware of Darcy's physical stature, and was rather displeased with herself when she realised she was holding her breath. Desperately fighting against the appearance of discomposure at his proximity, she eyed him archly upon his stepping back.
"Is it orderly enough for your taste now?" she queried, a mild tone of remonstrance in her voice.
" There's no excuse for disarray, particularly when it is just the work of a moment to set it right," Darcy replied evenly. Elizabeth was not to know he was fighting a 'disarray' in his own rather unsettled emotions - the sensations he had experienced at her closeness having yet not fully dissipated.
Elizabeth watched him as he returned to his seat. Before taking a new novel and returning to her own, Elizabeth - determined not to feel intimidated - couldn't help but reach out and perversely, and very deliberately, push a couple of volumes out of alignment.
She looked up after having seated herself, to find Darcy regarding her with an amused challenge in his eyes, but whether or not he would have spoken will never be known, as Miss Bingley chose that moment to join them in the library, unaware that never had these two persons been so happy to have her company.
On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, took place. Miss Bingley's civility to Elizabeth increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and when they parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with the former.
Elizabeth took leave of the whole party in the liveliest spirits, and Darcy's relief was every bit equal to that of Elizabeth's, both fully convinced they'd spent more than enough time in the other's company.
Chapter 9
If Elizabeth had thought that life would be simple upon returning home, she found herself vastly mistaken, as the following day an addition was made to the Bennet family party. A cousin, Mr Collins, to whom the Longbourn estate was entailed, in seeking to repair a familial breach had arrived in Hertfordshire, and was making his presence very much felt. In fact, his presence had been felt even prior to his arrival, as it had sent Mrs Bennet into one of her states of nervous irritation, as she fumed against the man who was heir to her home.
If her mother's antics weren't enough in themselves to exasperate Elizabeth, Mr Collins' nature certainly was. The young clergyman was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had given him originally great humility of manner, but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected prosperity.
A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her high rank and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and his rights as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.
Having now a good house and very sufficient income, he intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends -- of atonement -- for inheriting their father's estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own part.
His plan did not vary on seeing them. -- Miss Bennet's lovely face confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what was due to seniority; and for the first evening she was his settled choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a quarter of an hour's tête-à-tête with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading naturally to the avowal of his hopes that a mistress for it might be found at Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. -- ``As to her younger daughters she could not take upon her to say -- she could not positively answer -- but she did not know of any prepossession; -- her eldest daughter, she must just mention -- she felt it incumbent on her to hint, was likely to be very soon engaged.''
Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth -- and it was soon done -- done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course.
Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of the day before was now high in her good graces.
The irritation of his company would have been felt much less by Elizabeth had his particular interest in herself had not become quickly evident, and she was thankful when his sense of propriety sent him to annoy her father in his library, rather than herself. Her gratitude was short lived though, as Mr Bennet, being most anxious to be rid of his intrusive guest, suggested Mr Collins join with his daughters, as Lydia had suggested a walk to the town.
Mr Collins therefore set off with his cousins, and in pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them.
But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with an officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny, concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger's air, all wondered who he could be, and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretence of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot.
Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say, had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty -- a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation -- a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street.
On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat -- a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? -- It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.
In another minute Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave and rode on with his friend.
Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of Mr. Philips's house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia's pressing entreaties that they would come in, and even in spite of Mrs. Philips' throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding the invitation. Lydia's disappointment however, was short lived as she learned some of the officers were to dine with the Philipses the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Philips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards.
As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either or both, had they appeared to be wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her sister.
As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and the girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room, that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in the house.
Until the arrival of the officers, Elizabeth sensibly tried to avoid her cousin, and her mind turned again to what she had observed in the street on the preceding day. Mr Wickham certainly did appear to be a remarkably handsome and gentlemanlike man, and she wondered again at what association he'd had with Mr Darcy which could make them both react in such a way. When he walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the ----shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the present party; but Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.
Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, and on the probability of a rainy season, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker. Elizabeth found it hard not to be drawn to him.
With such rivals for the notice of the fair, as Mr. Wickham and the officers, Mr. Collins seemed likely to sink into insignificance; to the young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was, by her watchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin.
When the card tables were placed, he had an opportunity of obliging her in return, by sitting down to whist.
``I know little of the game, at present,'' said he, ``but I shall be glad to improve myself, for in my situation of life --'' Mrs. Philips was very thankful for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.
Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely for she was a most determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets, she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets and exclaiming after prizes, to have attention for any one in particular. Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told, the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity however was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in an hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.
``About a month,'' said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, ``He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand.''
``Yes,'' replied Wickham; -- ``his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself -- for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy.''
Elizabeth could not but look surprised.
``You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday. -- Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?''
``As much as she'd ever wish to be,'' cried Lydia from across the table, picking up on the end of their exchange. "She detests the man."
Elizabeth blushed a little at Lydia's assertion, and knowing that since her stay at Netherfield this was not strictly true, she wished her former opinions had been more reasonable and her expressions on him had been more moderate.
``I have no right to give my opinion,'' said Wickham, ``as to his being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him too long and to well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish -- and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly anywhere else. -- Here you are in your own family.''
``Upon my word she would say no more here than she might say in any house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield," chipped in Lydia again. "He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Every body is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably spoken of by any one.''
Elizabeth blushed again, but as she perceived that Wickham now seemed on the point of some revelation, she held her tongue.
``I cannot pretend to be sorry,'' said Wickham, after a short interruption, ``that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond their deserts; but with him I believe it does not often happen. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen.''
``I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man,'' Elizabeth tried, in an attempt to draw Wickham out, suppressing a smile at her remembrance of their spirited exchange not long ago at Netherfield.
Wickham only shook his head.
``I wonder,'' said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, ``whether he is likely to be in this country much longer.''
``I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away when I was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the ----shire will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood.''
``Oh! no -- it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaim to all the world; a sense of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him any thing and every thing, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father.''
Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented farther inquiry.
Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter especially, with gentle but very intelligible gallantry.
``It was the prospect of constant society, and good society,'' he added, ``which was my chief inducement to enter the ----shire. I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me farther by his account of their present quarters, and the very great attentions and excellent acquaintance Meryton had procured them. Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society. A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession -- I was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now.''
``Indeed!'' cried Elizabeth, hoping this might encourage him to keep talking.
``Yes -- the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere.''
``Good heavens!'' cried Elizabeth; momentarily disconcerted, ``but how could that be? -- How could his will be disregarded? -- Why did not you seek legal redress?''
``There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it -- or to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence, in short any thing or nothing. Certain it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done any thing to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me.''
``This is quite shocking! -- if true he deserves to be publicly disgraced.''
``Some time or other he will be -- but it shall not be by me. Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him.''
Then why are quite openly telling me this on our first acquaintance? Lizzy was dying to ask, stuck by the contradiction between his words and his actions, but she was too curious as to what else he might have to say to stay silent on the subject.
``But what,'' she ventured after a pause, ``can have been his motive? -- what can have induced him to behave so cruelly?''
``A thorough, determined dislike of me -- a dislike which I cannot but attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon attachment to me, irritated him I believe very early in life. He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood -- the sort of preference which was often given me.''
``I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this -- though his pride is more than obvious, I had not thought so very ill of him," Elizabeth could not help but say. " I had supposed him to be capable of looking down upon his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this!''
Elizabeth had cause to regret this slight expression of doubt, as Wickham now seemed to have dried up on the subject. After a few minutes reflection, however, she attempted to again draw him out with the words,
``I do remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition must be dreadful.''
``I will not trust myself on the subject,'' replied Wickham, ``I can hardly be just to him.''
Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time ventured, ``It seems almost unbelievable to treat in such a manner, the godson, the friend, the favourite of his father! And one, too, who had probably been his own companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner!''
``We were born in the same parish, within the same park, the greatest part of our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. My father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Philips, appears to do so much credit to -- but he gave up every thing to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged. himself to be under the greatest obligations to my father's active superintendance, and when immediately before my father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him, as of affection to myself.''
``How strange!'' said Elizabeth, broaching what she saw as the heart of the problem with Wickham's assertions. "I wonder that the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! -- If from no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest, -- for dishonesty I must call it.''
``It is a wonder,'' -- replied Wickham, -- ``for almost all his actions may be traced to pride; -- and pride has often been his best friend. It has connected him nearer with virtue than any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent; and in his behaviour to me, there were stronger impulses even than pride.''
``Can such abominable pride as his, have ever done him good?'' Elizabeth queried, her scepticism in Wickham's story rising ever. She knew Darcy to be proud, but she had also seen enough of him to be convinced of underlying good principles.
``Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, -- to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride, for he is very proud of what his father was, have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also brotherly pride, which with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers.''
With the subtlety of these words Wickham might almost have convinced Elizabeth to give more credit to his claims, but in his implication that Darcy felt little real affection for his sister, he made his fatal error. The tender manner in which Darcy had, unsolicited, spoken of his younger sister on more than one occasion whilst Elizabeth was at Netherfield, had convinced her of a closeness and devotion which she could not doubt, and she suddenly knew that she trusted to the certainty of Mr Darcy's underlying goodness. In fact, Wickham's mention of Darcy as a liberal landlord and generous man, had actually made her aware of qualities to which she had been previously ignorant.
Wickham though, thought too well of his own abilities to question whether Elizabeth had believed his story or not, and remained assured that his simple blackening of motive had given such a twist on reality as to completely turn her against his old adversary.
``What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy?'' Elizabeth continued to push the conversation.
He shook his head. -- ``I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother, -- very, very proud. -- As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her education.''
This seemed to Elizabeth, like a rather cutting assessment the daughter of his 'beloved' godfather, particularly of a girl who was only fifteen or sixteen, so she let the topic fall. After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not help reverting once more to the first, and saying with a cynicism that Wickham, in his smug confidence, failed to notice,
``I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley, who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? -- Do you know Mr. Bingley?''
``Not at all.''
``He is a sweet tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what, you claim, Mr. Darcy is.''
Elizabeth marvelled at the smoothness of the man beside her, as he answered without almost a moment's hesitation.
``Probably not; -- but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His pride never deserts him; but with the rich, he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable, -- allowing something for fortune and figure.''
As the whist party soon afterwards broke up, the players gathered round the other table, and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips.
-- The usual inquiries as to his success were made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every point; but when Mrs. Philips began to express her concern thereupon, he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the least importance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged she would not make herself uneasy.
``I know very well, madam,'' said he, ``that when persons sit down to a card table, they must take their chance of these things, -- and happily I am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding little matters.''
Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relation were very intimately acquainted with the family of de Bourgh.
``Lady Catherine de Bourgh,'' she replied, ``has very lately given him a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her notice, but he certainly has not known her long.''
``You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy.''
``No, indeed, I did not. -- I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before yesterday.''
``Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates.''
This information made Elizabeth start. The idea that Mr Darcy might be engaged had never occurred to her, and she was annoyed to find herself, all of a sudden, quite discomforted at the thought. Her doubt at Mr Wickham's reliability returned though, on recalling all of Miss Bingley's efforts toward Mr Darcy. She could not imagine this lady's attentions would be so lavished, if all her hope was vain. Her affection for his sister and her praise of himself, would have all been wasted indeed, if he were already self-destined to another, and Elizabeth could not see Miss Bingley as being that foolish.
``Mr. Collins,'' said she, on recovering herself, ``speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being his patroness, she is a conceited woman.''
``I believe her to be in a great degree,'' replied Wickham; ``I have not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew, who chooses that every one connected with him should have an understanding of the first class.''
Elizabeth allowed, after the things she understood from Mr Collins, that he had probably given a very rational account of this, but not much more was said as supper put an end to cards; and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr. Wickham's attentions.
There could be no conversation in the noise of Mrs. Philips's supper party, but Elizabeth watched as Wickham's manners recommended him to every body. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done gracefully.
Elizabeth went away with her head full of his easy style and his - she was now convinced false - charges against Mr Darcy. She could think of nothing but of and of what he had told her, all the way home, and she chided herself that the claim her mind returned to most, was his assertion that Darcy was destined to marry his cousin. Fortunately she did not have to speak as they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. Lydia talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the fish she had won, and Mr. Collins, in describing the civility of Mr. and Mrs. Philips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House.