Section I, Next Section
Part One
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
In light of this truth, it was little wonder that when one Mr. Bingley, late of London and possessing a fortune of four or five thousand a year, let an estate in the county of Hertfordshire, the event was met with great excitement by the mothers of eligible young women in the area. There was much jostling among these fine, illustrious matrons for introductions and dinner invitations or the acceptance of such invitations. For Mrs. Bennet of Longbourn, however, it was not to be that she should encounter the gentleman in question and present to him her five marriageable daughters until the evening of a ball given in the small town of Meryton, though her husband had done his duty and called upon the man, and such an a dinner invitation had been issued and regretfully declined, due to obligations Mr. Bingley was required to meet elsewhere.
Hertfordshire contained a small, insular society where most everyone was known to everyone else. Judgments of character were quickly made--though not always on the most solid of facts--and a reputation, once established, was not easily deconstructed. Thus it was soon decided, upon his arrival at the ball in Meryton a small party, that Mr. Bingley was good looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien; and the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. The gentlemen pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the ladies declared he was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great admiration. Not least of his admirers was Mrs. Bennet. She had thought her eldest daughter Jane would make a suitable wife for Bingley, Jane being widely held as the most beautiful girl in the family and, indeed, in the county. But once word of Mr. Darcy's fortune spread, that most attentive mother soon turned her matchmaking eye elsewhere, for Bingley's four or five thousand a year was nothing to it, she declared, nothing at all. And why should Jane--the eldest and one hardly need mention, most beautiful, girl in the company--not be assured of the handsomest and richest of all the available men?
Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal people in the room, including that of Mrs. Bennet and her daughters; he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves. Mrs. Bennet was somewhat put out when he secured Jane's hand for the first two dances, but wishing to make a favorable impression on Mr. Darcy nonetheless, hinted strongly (one might say improperly) that the gentleman should dance with one of her other daughters until Miss Bennet was disengaged. Mr. Darcy declined, barely fulfilling the required civilities of a proper introduction as Bingley belatedly made them, before returning to his own party to converse with Bingley's sisters, who themselves eyed the whole of the assembly with distaste for the lowly company and country manners. There was not, they decided, a single person worth knowing, in the place.
While Mr. Bingley danced with Miss Bennet, Mr. Darcy danced once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley. His disinclination to be introduced to any other lady, Mrs. Bennet declared to any who were disposed to listen (which very few were, but most had little choice in the matter) was most certainly a sign that he had set his eye on Jane and would be satisfied with no other partner. Instead, he spent a good deal of time engaged in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party. Elizabeth Bennet, the second eldest daughter and the one whose hand Mr. Darcy has most uncivilly declined, was less kindly disposed to view the man's motives for snubbing his company so blatantly. She quickly decided his character to be proud and disagreeable, for it was quite obvious to her that anyone with any aptitude for observation (which, she prided herself, she possessed in abundance while her mother did not) that he and Mr. Bingley's sisters were considerably more pleased with themselves than with the company they beheld.
Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit down for two dances; and during part of that time, Mr. Darcy had been standing near enough for her to overhear a conversation between him and Mr. Bingley, who came from the dance for a few minutes to press his friend to join it.
"Come, Darcy," said he, "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."
"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."
"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.
"Oh! she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty also, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."
"Which do you mean?" and turning round, he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said, "She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men."
It took a moment for Elizabeth to secure her composure after hearing this rude declaration. It was a most improper thing to say, even if he were unaware she had overheard. Quickly deciding the old adage about peering through keyholes and being vexed should apply, she rose and sought out her particular friend Charlotte Lucas, leaving the men to their conversation unattended.
"Darcy!" Bingley chided when she had gone, distressed. "I think she heard you! What a horrible thing to say in a lady's hearing. Will you not apologize?"
Mr. Darcy felt his impatience with his friend, and the company, fade somewhat at chagrin that the lady in question might have been witness, though no fault of her own, to his impolite remark. "You're right, Bingley. It was a most imprudent thing to say. Maybe you might remove the disgrace I've brought upon our party by asking her to dance yourself. I don't seem to be fit for company this evening. Excuse me." Leaving Bingley spluttering in vexation, Mr. Darcy repaired to the punch bowl to regain some of his composure. When he had accomplished his goal, he petitioned the eldest Miss Bennet, who was in conversation with one of the local matrons, for a dance, hoping that by presenting himself as a gentleman to her sister, he might ease the sting of his remarks regarding the Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Elizabeth Bennet quickly regained her spirit and told the story with much enthusiasm among her friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in any thing ridiculous. When she observed Mr. Darcy approaching her older sister and requesting that Miss Bennet stand up with him for the next set, she observed to Miss Lucas,
"Perhaps my mother is right, and he is simply taken with Jane and in no mood to dance with anyone else. If so, I suppose I may, after a while, forgive his remark. It was very ill done of him to make it, but I should not wish to think ill of anyone who thought well of Jane, or toward whom Jane had any peculiar regard. I would not wish to put her at a disadvantage, no matter how outraged my pride might be."
"I think Jane should not be at a disadvantage no matter what the circumstances," Charlotte remarked. "No one could but think well of her. But look, here comes Mr. Bingley."
"Miss Bennet," Mr. Bingley asked with excessive good cheer, for he felt very unhappy indeed that the young lady's feelings might have been hurt my his friend's impolitic criticism, "if you are not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honor of dancing the next two with me?"
"Why Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth teazed with a merry humor as she accepted the gentleman's offer and was led to the floor, "are you here to save me from the egregious flaw of having been 'slighted by other men?'"
Mr. Bingley blushed and looked distressed. "I--I cannot apologize for my friend, Miss Bennet, it wouldn't be proper," he said sincerely. "I can only say that I personally have found Hertfordshire and all my company here--most assuredly including your own--to be among the most agreeable I have ever encountered, and consider it a happy turn of fate indeed that brought me to Netherfield."
Elizabeth blushed prettily at this praise and sought a more neutral turn of conversation.
"The country is agreeing with you then, sir?"
"Indeed it is," he declared. "And I have long required a country estate. Business keeps me in town often, and my sisters enjoy the society, but for myself, there are inducements in the country which I can only consider much handsomer than any to be found in town." This last he delivered with what Elizabeth could only interpret as significant emphasis and she found herself blushing again. Nearby, she heard Jane's gentle laugh and looked about to find her still engaged in dancing with Mr. Darcy. She was smiling demurely and seemed quite content with her company. Elizabeth found herself much more disposed to think well of Mr. Darcy, for surely any friend of Mr. Bingley's could not be wholly bad, and she found herself very concerned with being pleased with those who were important to Mr. Bingley.
The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. It seemed she and Mr. Bingley had much in common, not least of which was their effusive spirit and enjoyment of lively company, a quick wit and an easy ability to laugh. Indeed, they seemed perfectly suited in temperament. Their conversations were most agreeable and Elizabeth finished the evening quite satisfied with her companion. Mrs. Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the Netherfield party, their guest especially. Mr. Bingley had also danced with Jane, and she had been distinguished by his sisters. Jane was as much gratified by this as her mother could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane's pleasure. Mary had heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most accomplished girl in the neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been fortunate enough to be never without partners, which was all that they had yet learnt to care for at a ball. They returned therefore, in good spirits to Longbourn, the village where they lived, and of which they were the principal inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet still up. With a book, he was regardless of time; and on the present occasion he had a good deal of curiosity as to the event of an evening which had raised such splendid expectations. He had rather hoped that all his wife's views on the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon found that he had a very different story to hear.
"Oh! my dear Mr. Bennet," as she entered the room, "we have had a most delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been there. Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Every body said how well she looked; and Mr. Darcy thought her quite beautiful, and danced with her twice. Only think of that my dear; he actually danced with her twice; and she was the only creature in the room outside his party that he asked even once!"
"And pray who, my dear Mrs. Bennet, is Mr. Darcy?"
"Why, Mr. Bingley's friend, come all the way from Derbyshire to stay at Netherfield with the Bingleys! It's said he has a vast estate and a fortune of ten thousand a year, and likely more! Why, Mr. Bingley's is nothing to it, nothing at all!"
"So you have given up hopes of Mr. Bingley for a son-in-law in favor of his friend, have you, Mrs. Bennet?"
"Oh, no indeed! Mr. Bingley is quite satisfactory as well, for he stood up with Lizzy twice! His fortune may be only four or five thousand a year, and Netherfield not so grand an estate, but he should do very nicely for one of our other daughters. Lizzy isn't the oldest, and she's not as pretty as Jane or as good-natured as Lydia, but she should do for a man of lesser fortune. First of all, Mr. Bingley asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him stand up with her; but, however, he did not admire her at all: indeed, nobody can, you know; and he seemed interested in Jane, though he paid her no special attention as Mr. Darcy did. But, he enquired who she was, and got introduced, and asked her for the two next. Then, the two third he danced with Miss King, and the two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Lizzy, and later asked her again!"
"If he had had any compassion for me," cried her husband impatiently, "he would not have danced half so much! For God's sake, say no more of his partners. Oh! that he had sprained his ankle in the first dance!"
"Oh! my dear," continued Mrs. Bennet, "I am quite satisfied with him. He is very handsome! and his sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw any thing more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs. Hurst's gown -- "
Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch of the subject, and reverted instead to praise of Mr. Darcy.
"He shows excellent taste, I think, in singling Jane out as he did," she added, "Some claimed that he was too proud and disagreeable, that he walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very great! Not handsome enough to dance with! But then he asked Jane, and it was quite obvious he favored her above all others. Why shouldn't he refuse to dance with the Longs and Lucases when they are not half so pretty and pleasant as our Jane. Yes, I'm quite sure it's only that he has superior expectations of his company."
"Indeed," Lizzy commented, "one wonders if his expectations aren't so superior that no one should be capable of meeting them. Besides, of course, our most excellent and lovely Jane." This she said with a gentle smile at Jane, who blushed and ducked her head. For Elizabeth did not want to be bitter, or ruin the pleasure her sister had found in the man's company, but she could not help but question the character of a man who would insult a lady as Mr. Darcy had done to herself, even if he hadn't known she was listening.
Part Two
WHEN Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had not said much about her dance with Mr. Darcy before, at her sisters prompting stated that she found him quite agreeable.
"He is just what a young man ought to be," said she, "sensible and kind. He has good breeding and good manners. If he's somewhat reserved, I can't help but think that to his credit, for he has been very pleasant toward me, so I shall simply assume him to be shy and take comfort in the fact that I am not obliged to make needless conversation but can be contentedly silent and enjoy my company."
"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth, "which a young man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete."
"I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did not expect such a compliment."
"Did not you? I did for you. But that is one great difference between us. Compliments always take you by surprise, and me never. What could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other women in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a less worthy person person."
"Dear Lizzy! Do you not like him?"
"Well, he hasn't Mr. Bingley's happy manners or easy disposition, but for your sake I shall hope he improves on closer acquaintance. You are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general. You never see a fault in any body. All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in my life. But I shall accept your judgment in this case, as I suppose it would do me no credit to make my own."
"I would wish not to be hasty in censuring any one; but I always speak what I think."
"I know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder. With your good sense, to be honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others! Affectation of candour is common enough; -- one meets it every where. But to be candid without ostentation or design -- to take the good of every body's character and make it still better, and say nothing of the bad -- belongs to you alone. And so, you like Mr. Bingley's sisters too, do you? Their manners are not equal to his, though I venture they are much on a level with Mr. Darcy's."
"Well, I suppose they aren't as agreeable as their brother," Jane conceded anxiously, "but only at first. They are very pleasing women when you converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother and keep his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming neighbour in her."
Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced. Their behaviour at the assembly had not been calculated to please in general; and with more quickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her sister, and with a judgment, too, unassailed by any attention to herself, she was very little disposed to approve them. They were in fact very fine ladies, not deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in the power of being agreeable where they chose it; but proud and conceited. They were rather handsome, had been educated in one of the first private seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty thousand pounds, were in the habit of spending more than they ought, and of associating with people of rank; and were therefore in every respect entitled to think well of themselves, and meanly of others. They were of a respectable family in the north of England; a circumstance more deeply impressed on their memories than that their brother's fortune and their own had been acquired by trade.
Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly an hundred thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an estate, but did not live to do it. -- Mr. Bingley intended it likewise, and sometimes made choice of his county; but as he was now provided with a good house and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of those who best knew the easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the remainder of his days at Netherfield, and leave the next generation to purchase.
His sisters were very anxious for his having an estate of his own; but though he was now established only as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by no means unwilling to preside at his table, nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had married a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to consider his house as her home when it suited her. Mr. Bingley had not been of age two years, when he was tempted by an accidental recommendation to look at Netherfield House. He did look at it and into it for half an hour, was pleased with the situation and the principal rooms, satisfied with what the owner said in its praise, and took it immediately.
Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of a great opposition of character. -- Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the easiness, openness, ductility of his temper, though no disposition could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy's regard Bingley had the firmest reliance, and of his judgment the highest opinion. In understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley was by no means deficient, but Darcy was clever. He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well bred, were not inviting. In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley was sure of being liked wherever he appeared; Darcy was continually giving offence.
The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently characteristic. Bingley had never met with pleasanter people or prettier girls in his life; every body had been most kind and attentive to him, there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt acquainted with all the room; and as to Miss Jane Bennet, he could not conceive an angel more beautiful, but found her sisters very agreeable as well, and the second eldest to be very pretty. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom but Miss Bennet he had felt the smallest interest, and from none other than her received either attention or pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty and well bred, but could not pay a like compliment to her sisters.
Mrs. Hurst and her sister agreed on the eldest Miss Bennet--they admired her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom they should not object to know more of, despite her unfortunate family. Miss Bennet was therefore established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authorised by such commendation to think of her as he chose.
*****
WITHIN a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune and risen to the honour of knighthood by an address to the King during his mayoralty. The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a disgust to his business and to his residence in a small market town; and quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house about a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, where he could think with pleasure of his own importance, and, unshackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all the world. For though elated by his rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the contrary, he was all attention to every body. By nature inoffensive, friendly and obliging, his presentation at St. James's had made him courteous.
Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. -- They had several children. The eldest of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was Elizabeth's intimate friend.
That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.
"You began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs. Bennet with civil self-command to Miss Lucas. "You were Mr. Bingley's first choice."
"Yes; -- but he seemed to like later choices better."
"Oh! -- you mean Lizzy, I suppose -- because he danced with her twice. To be sure that did seem as if he admired her -- indeed I rather believe he did -- I heard something about it -- but I hardly know what -- something about Mr. Robinson."
"Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did not I mention it to you?" Elizabeth answered. "Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our Meryton assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many pretty women in the room, and which he thought the prettiest? and his answering immediately to the last question -- 'Oh! the eldest Miss Bennet beyond a doubt, there cannot be two opinions on that point, but her sister is very handsome as well.'"
"But of course!" Elizabeth added. "And indeed she is. But no one can deny it about Jane, and I think it not at all ill of Mr. Bingley to acknowledge it."
"My overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Eliza," said Charlotte. "Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend, is he? -- Poor Eliza! -- to be only just tolerable."
This occasioned questions from Mrs. Bennet and Jane as to Charlotte's meaning, and with a reluctant look at Jane, Lizzy told them what she had overheard. At the conclusion of the tale, Mrs. Bennet clucked at Miss Lucas. "I beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to be vexed by his ill-treatment; for he is so taken with Jane, it would be most unfortunate for Lizzy to dislike him, the way she's accustomed to speaking her mind, impertinent though it may be. It's her father's fault, he's encouraged her to do it, though it's very unbecoming, if I say so myself! I should not wish Mr. Darcy to be driven away just because he had the ill chance to be overheard by her."
"Are you quite sure, Lizzy--is not there a little mistake?" said Jane. "Surely he didn't mean to insult you. He was so very polite and cordial when we danced, I cannot think him capable of giving intentional offense. And Miss Bingley told me that he never speaks much unless among his intimate acquaintance. With them he is remarkably agreeable."
"And of course, so it must be, my dear," Mrs. Bennet agrees hastily. "Lizzy must have misheard him, that is all."
"Well, perhaps this might all have been put to rest," said Miss Lucas, "had he but danced with Eliza."
"Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, "You should dance with him and understand him better, if he should offer."
"I believe, Ma'am, I may safely promise you never to dance with him. After all, he will be far too busy entertaining Jane, I'm sure," she said with a fond smile at her sister.
"His pride, if that is indeed what it was," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there is 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."
"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine."
*****
The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit was returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew on the good will of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was found to be intolerable and the younger sisters not worth speaking to, a wish of being better acquainted with them was expressed towards the two eldest. By Jane this attention was received with the greatest pleasure; but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment of every body, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them; though their kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value, as arising in all probability from the influence of their guest's admiration. It was appeared whenever they met, that he did admire her, for she was one of the few Hertfordshire people whose company he made a point of seeking; and to Elizabeth it was appeared that Jane returned the sentiment; but she considered with pleasure that it was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane united with great strength of feeling a composure of temper and a uniform cheerfulness of manner, which would guard her from the suspicions of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Miss Lucas.
"It may perhaps be pleasant," replied Charlotte, "to be able to impose on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely -- a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better shew more affection than she feels. Darcy likes your sister undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on."
Elizabeth could not but be some small amount pleased at the idea that Mr. Darcy might never do anything more than LIKE her sister. Though she had hoped it otherwise, she could still find no redeeming traits to his character other than his remarkable good taste in his preference for her sister. She feared her sister might find herself perpetually distressed to be married to a man who approved of so little, when Jane herself approved of everything and every one. But then, perhaps it would be for the best, and Jane's disposition might sweeten Mr. Darcy's through exposure. Perhaps not, however. For Mr. Bingley also found pleasure and goodness in everyone he met, and exposure to THAT fine gentleman did not seem to be sweetening his friend's disposition.
"Well, if he does not know her well enough to detect her regard for him, he might not be a suitable match after all, true?"
"Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane's disposition as you do. He has not been in her company all her life."
"But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal it, he must find it out."
"Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But though Darcy and Jane meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and as they always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should therefore make the most of every half hour in which she can command his attention. When she is secure of him, there will be leisure for falling in love as much as she chuses."
"Your plan is a good one," replied Elizabeth, "where nothing is in question but the desire of being well married; and if I were determined to get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare say I should adopt it. But these are not Jane's feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet, she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard, nor of its reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced four dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house, and has since dined in company with him four times. This is not quite enough to make her understand his character. Especially since there are so many others who are quite displeased with what they know of him."
"But the others have not had the exposure to him that Jane has had, and therefore are subject to misunderstanding his character. Had she merely dined with him, she might only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must remember that four evenings have been also spent together -- and four evenings may do a great deal."
"Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they both like Vingt-un better than Commerce; but with respect to any other leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been unfolded. Other than that he is not disposed to be as disagreeable with Jane as he is with others in our company."
"Well," said Charlotte, "I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if she were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar before-hand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always contrive to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life."
"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself."
Occupied in observing Mr. Darcy's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some interest to the man in question. That gentleman had initially sought out Miss Bennet's company for the purpose of ameliorating the insult he had paid Elizabeth, and found himself returning to Jane because she was known to him and therefore the only one of Hertforshire society with whom he felt relaxed enough to converse. Her goodness and gentleness of spirit put him at ease few companions were able to do. He found relief in a companion that was not afraid to indulge in a friendly silence, who did not feel it incumbent upon herself to fill every moment with chatter as so many society ladies were wont to do.
As for Elizabeth, 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; she assumed him to be taken with Jane much as all their other company did and scarcely thought about him otherwise. To her he was only the man who made himself agreeable no where except in her sister's company, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with.
*****
At a party at the Lucas's, there was entertainment, in which Charlotte Lucas compelled Elizabeth to perform at the piano forte. 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 and 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 with Jane; -- "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 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. Perhaps my sister Jane will be available for the next set, if you are inclined toward dancing this evening."
Mr. Darcy with grave propriety requested to be allowed the honour of her hand; but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.
"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. "I would not have thought he disliked the amusement after seeing him dance in Meryton."
"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?"
"Indeed, Sir William, my sister is most fortunate to be possessed of the beauty and temperate spirit which would garner even the harshest critic's approval. I would not wish to oblige Mr. Darcy to settle for any less. Excuse me."
Her resistance had not injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley.
"I can guess the subject of your reverie."
"I should imagine not."
"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!"
"Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My 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."
Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity,
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" repeated Miss Bingley. "I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite? -- and pray when am I to wish you joy?"
"That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy."
"Nay, if you are so serious about it, I shall consider the matter as absolutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed, and of course she will be always at Pemberley with you."
He listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to entertain herself in this manner, and as his composure convinced her that all was safe, her wit flowed long.
Part Three
It was some days later that a note came for Jane, exciting Mrs. Bennet's enthusiasm for the subject of Mr. Darcy and his fortune. That the gentleman continually failed to acknowledge Mrs. Bennet herself in company, but for the barest of all civilities, went unnoticed by any but Elizabeth, who was by now convinced that if Mr. Darcy thought well of any of them, it was of Jane alone.
"Well, Jane, who is it from? what is it about? what does he say? Well, Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love."
"It is from Miss Bingley," said Jane, and then read aloud the invitation to dinner, as the men of Netherfield would be dining with the officers that day..
"With the officers!" cried Lydia. "I wonder my aunt did not tell us of that."
"Dining out," said Mrs. Bennet, "that is very unlucky."
"Can I have the carriage?" said Jane.
"No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to rain; and then you must stay all night."
Arguing and appealing to Mrs. Bennet's good sense was futile, and so Jane set out for Netherfield on horseback. No sooner had she left than Mrs. Bennet's prediction was fulfilled and it began to rain heavily. Elizabeth observed to her mother that her plan might have turned out better, had it not begun to rain so very soon, for now Jane would arrive wet and would not be fit to be seen when the gentlemen arrived home, even if the coveted invitation to stay overnight were delivered, an idea which gave her mother pause.
The next morning a note arrived for Elizabeth from Jane, explaining that she would not be returning home that day, as she felt poorly and the Bingley's were determined that she remain until her sore throat and headache abated. In her typical manner, Jane denied that there was anything seriously wrong, that the apothecary had been summoned only at the Bingley's overcautious but kind insistence and not to be alarmed if she heard report of it.
"Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had finished reading the note aloud, "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. Darcy, 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."
Despite Jane's reassurances, Elizabeth was anxious for her sister, certain she had underplayed her illness in the note for fear of concerning her family. She quickly determined she must go to her, but the carriage was not available and Elizabeth was no equestrienne. She would walk if she must, she resolved, but she would go.
"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."
"But you might see Mr. Bingley, and he would surely be appalled. You should take more care to make a better impression. His fortune may not be what Mr. Darcy's is, but it will do quite well for YOU."
"Is this a hint to me, Lizzy," asked Mr. Bennet, "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. And Mr. Bingley's company, while certainly most agreeable, is not as important to me as Jane's health." Indeed, she doubted Bingley, with his propensity to think well of everyone, would care how she appeared upon her arrival. Mr. Bingley and she were of the same mind on so many things, and she could not imagine him thinking ill of her for taking a little walk. "At any rate, I shall be back by dinner."
She had, she thought halfway to Netherfield, perhaps underestimated how muddy the fields would be after the rain, but it was no matter. She crossed them quickly in her hurry to reach Jane, and when she arrived at least, tired, dirty and out of breath, thoughts of whether or not she would impress the Netherfield party were quite far from her mind.
The party themselves were in the breakfast parlor, and Jane was not with them but rather, she was informed, abed at Mr. Jones' orders. She had passed the night poorly. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were almost as vocal in their surprise that Elizabeth had walked so far so early just to check on her sister as they were in their effusions over Jane's state of health. Though they cushioned their comments as admiration for her concern over her sister, Elizabeth was certain she detected distaste on their countenances. From Mr. Bingley, however, there was none to be found. He seemed delighted that she had come all this way for her sister and indeed, had he known she would have wanted to come, would have sent his carriage for her first thing. Mr. Darcy said very little, to her, and she had no way of knowing that he was too caught up in admiring the heightened color the exertion of her walk had brought to her complexion to make conversation, even if making conversation had been his habit.
Over the day, Jane's condition worsened, and Elizabeth was invited to remain at Netherfield (someone grudgingly, she imagined) by Miss Bingley, so she might nurse her sister. The offer was gratefully accepted. Though distressed by Jane's illness, she could not feel herself to be very reluctant to spend more time in Mr. Bingley's company, despite the necessity of also spending time in the company of his sisters. A note was therefore dispatched to Longbourn informing her family of her intent and requesting a supply of clothes
*****
"Miss Bennet!" Mr. Bingley greeted enthusiastically when she joined the family for dinner, "how is your sister? Has there been no improvement?"
"I thank you for your concern, sir," she responded softly, pleased by his kind solicitude. "I am very sorry to say there has not, she is still very feverish and tired."
"That is distressing," he declared.
"Indeed!" cried Miss Bingley. "I must say, there is nothing worse than a bad cold in all the world; every time I suffer one, I feel I shall expire with it, though I know I shall not. Don't you dislike nothing worse than being ill, Mr. Darcy?" she asked, turning suddenly toward her victim much, Elizabeth fancied, as a hunter would surprise her would-be prey.
"I rarely have that misfortune," Mr. Darcy replied, "a state of affairs for which I consider myself most thankful. Please do convey my best wishes to your sister for her quick return to health, Miss Bennet."
"Thank you, sir, I shall," Elizabeth replied with a small smile. Her response was, for the most part, drowned out by Caroline Bingley's rejoinder,
"Indeed, Mr. Darcy. I, too, rarely suffer myself to be ill. It would be dreadful, would it not, to be intimate with a person of a sickly disposition? For what if one enjoyed to go out in the park or take a stroll down the street while in town? Yes, 'tis much better, I think, be to around healthy acquaintances."
Elizabeth felt herself irritated, thinking Miss Bingley meant to deride Jane in Mr. Darcy's eyes by using her illness against her, and replied, "I quite agree. My sister often enjoys outdoor activity well. As you saw yesterday, she rides, and walks as well, and spends as much time in the park as she can. We walk to Meryton several times a week to visit my aunt. Indeed, she's much healthier than so many ladies who sit about and do nothing but stitch and gossip. This present illness has taken us all by surprise, for it is quite unlike her."
"Most certainly," Mr. Darcy said generously, meeting Elizabeth's eyes. "I, too, have noticed that ladies who partake of exercise regularly tend to be healthier than those who do not."
Elizabeth nodded in satisfaction and Miss Bingley, knowing she was not of a disposition to walk or ride regularly but instead preferred more genteel, indoor activities, quickly sought another turn of conversation to monopolize Mr. Darcy with. She appeared to have quite forgotten about inquiring after Jane's health. It was Mr. Bingley who kept Elizabeth from bring entirely excluded, making conversation with her as he escorted her into the dining room for dinner. To her enormous pleasure, if he was at all repulsed by her appearance upon her arrival this morning, he did not demonstrate it. She noted this with satisfaction; if Mr. Bingley were not put off by her occasional impertinence or impropriety, they might get along very well indeed. By this time, they had engaged in several conversations and he seemed to like her own company quite well. He occasionally made broadly-phrased and shy compliments that, while circumspect, could not be interpreted but as being for her.
Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth soon determined, was the most kindly and generous man she'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. His concern for Jane was nothing short of excessive and with none of the contrived air his sisters entertained. He entertained her handsomely through dinner, complimented her on her care for her sister and in short, prevented her from being treated as an intruder as she believed the others considered her. It was, after all, Bingley's home, and he was favourably disposed to her presence in a most flattering manner.
When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. 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 shew an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country town indifference to decorum."
"It shews an affection for her sister that I find 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." A short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again.
"I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it."
"I think I have heard you say, that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton."
"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside."
"That is capital," added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.
"If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside," cried Bingley, "it would not make them one jot less agreeable."
"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world," replied Darcy.
To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of their dear friend's vulgar relations.
*****
Elizabeth did not leave Jane's side again until late that evening, when her sister was resting peacefully. It seemed the proper thing to do to go downstairs and visit with the family. It was only polite and she could not object to Mr. Bingley's company, however objectionable that of his sisters might be. She found them playing at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting them to be playing high 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 most kindly; "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. She was then obliged to act as audience to Miss Bingley's obsequious praise of Mr. Darcy's library at Pemberley, and then on to Pemberley itself, and then on to Mr. Darcy's young sister. Indeed, it seemed Miss Bingley could find nothing to speak of that did not concern Mr. Darcy in some regard, a situation Elizabeth regarded with some humor, for Mr. Darcy himself did not seem nearly as taken with Miss Bingley as Miss Bingley was with him. That lady's praise of his sister, however, was rewarded by a smile, encouraging her to continue.
"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 skreens, 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 skreen. 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 with Mr. Bingley's generosity and not at all with his friend, "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."
"All this she must possess," added Darcy, looking at Elizabeth, "and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading."
Insulted by his reminder of her declaration that she was not a great reader, Elizabeth replied smartly, "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 protested profusely that they knew many women who answered this description, when Mr. Hurst impatiently reminded them to attend to the cards. Rather than subject herself to any more abuse until she had regained her temper, she left to check on her sister.
Jane, she was sorry to say when she joined them again, was still worse, and she could not leave her. Bingley was dismayed and asked if he couldn't send for Mr. Jones again, while his sisters, not to be outdone in concern and solicitude for their guest (for certainly, Elizabeth thought unkindly, charity toward the ailing would make Miss Bingley much more becoming to Mr. Darcy) suggested a country apothecary would be insufficient and a physician should be sent for from London by express. Elizabeth could not countenance this extravagance, but to satisfy Mr. Bingley, she allowed that Mr. Jones should be sent for if Miss Bennet was not improved by morning. The sisters seemed considerably more satisfied than their brother by this resolution and, forgetting their concern for Jane, decided to exhibit for the company with duets at the piano-forte after supper. Thus the mantle of seeing to their guests' comfort fell on Mr. Bingley, who fulfilled it admirably to ascertaining that every possible assistance and comfort might be provided by his staff to the Bennet sisters, for which Elizabeth thanked him graciously.
Part Four
After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss Bingley's appearance and invitation the mother and three daughters all attended her into the breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopes that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.
"Indeed I have, Sir," was her answer. "She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness."
"Removed!" cried Bingley. "It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal."
"You may depend upon it, Madam," said Miss Bingley, with cold civility, "that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she remains with us."
Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.
"I am sure," she added, "if it was not for such good friends I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world -- which is always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to her. You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming prospect over that gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry I hope, though you have but a short lease."
"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied he; "and therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here."
"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said Elizabeth.
"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried he, turning towards her.
"Oh! Yes," Elizabeth replied with a blush, "I understand you perfectly.".
"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful."
"That is as it happens. It does not necessarily follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours," she protested kindly, for she did not wish such a good man to think she had found fault with his character.
"Lizzy," cried her mother, "remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home."
"I did not know before," continued Bingley immediately, "that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study."
"Yes; but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage."
"The country," said Darcy, "can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society."
"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever."
"No, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, eager to ingratiate herself to the rich man of whom she had hopes for her eldest daughter. "I assure you there is not quite nearly as much of that going on in the country as in town."
Every body was surprised; and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had impressed him on Jane's behalf, continued her triumph, deriding her own society without scruple.
"I certainly can see that London has many great advantages over the country for my part, especially in the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal less pleasant, is not it?"
"When I am in the country," Mr. Bingley replied, for Mr. Darcy did not seem inclined to, "I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."
"Aye -- that is because you have a particular disposition toward both. But Mr. Darcy, now," looking at the gentleman she referenced, "seemed to think town quite superior, and the country boring, and certainly no harm in that. I quite agree."
"Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there were not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in town, which you must acknowledge to be true."
"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, well, it does us no harm to acknowledge that. I know we dine with only four and twenty families."
Elizabeth flushed at her mother's ill manners in speaking so meanly of their friends and neighbours simply to impress Mr. Darcy, but could think of nothing to say to amend the situation without drawing more attention to it. Mr. Bingley, perceiving her embarrassment, was gracious enough not to laugh, but his sister was less delicate and looked to Mr. Darcy to share her humor. To that gentleman's credit, he turned back to the window. If he could not bring himself to be polite, she supposed, it was better to be silent.
Elizabeth, for the sake of saying something that might turn her mother's thoughts, now asked her if Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since her coming away.
"Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir William is, Mr. Darcy -- is not he? so much the man of fashion! so genteel and so easy! -- He has always something to say to every body. But he's not particular in who he chuses to socialize with, I suppose, and that is my idea of good breeding. I rather think a gentleman should be particular in his company."
And thus it went, for Mrs. Bennet would waste no chance to let Mr. Darcy know she quite approved of his snubbing their society so long as Jane could profit from it. Elizabeth endured the agonies of being witness to this toadying, which she was sure was obvious to everyone except her mother, who stopped insulting Hertfordshire citizens only long enough to laud Jane, Jane's manner, Jane's patience, Jane's beauty, e&, e&.
The meeting ended with Lydia impertinently inquiring is Mr. Bingley intended to hold to his word and throw a ball, which that gallant gentleman said he would indeed do. By the time it was over, Elizabeth was almost inclined to regard Mr. Bingley as a saviour of sorts, for with exquisite tact he overlooked her family's vulgarities and brought the conversation around to less humiliating subjects.
Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations' behaviour to the remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however, could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of her, in spite of all Miss Bingley's witticisms on fine eyes.
*****
The evening brought Elizabeth the amusement of witnessing more of Miss Bennet's attempts to ensnare Mr. Darcy's admiration, this time by interrupting him as he wrote to his sister, interjecting messages to Miss Darcy, and making constant commendations 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.
"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."
"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?"
"My stile of writing is very different from yours."
"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most careless way imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest."
"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them -- by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."
"Your humility, Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth lauded, "must disarm reproof."
"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "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 shew 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," cried Elizabeth, quick to defend Mr. Bingley against such unfair criticism, "that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shewn 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 chuse to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged. 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."
"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, 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. Miss Bingley warmly resented the indignity he had received in an expostulation with her brother for talking such nonsense.
"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."
Bingley smiled at Elizabeth thankfully, and Darcy returned to his letter to her enormous relief.
Elizabeth, imagining her impertinent must have offended the man, would have been amazed to know her defense of his friend only heightened his admiration of her. It demonstrated a kindness and generosity of spirit and eagerness to protect gentler souls he greatly esteemed. 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.
For her own part, Elizabeth found the protective feelings taking Mr. Bingley's part in the argument had aroused, coupled with her already established enjoyment of the gentleman's company, left her feeling what she could only describe as quite fond of him. It was too early, Elizabeth thought, to discern whether Mr. Bingley possessed any special inclination toward herself, or if she possessed any inclination for him. He treated her with the same kindness and solicitude as he paid everyone. In this, she imagined, he was much like Jane, though his spirits remained closer to those complimenting Elizabeth herself than Jane, for he lacked Jane's reserve. But Elizabeth now considered him truly the best and most gentleman-like man of her acquaintance. His gallantry on their very first meeting in Meryton was testament to that; that he should dance with her to rescue her from the insult his friend had paid her. It spoke of a gentle, caring, sympathetic soul that did him credit.
No, she sighed, it was certainly too early to be in love, but she imagined she COULD be in love with him, given time and more knowledge of the man. She retired to tend Jane with many tender thoughts preoccupying her mind.
*****
Elizabeth had the pleasure of attending Jane into the drawing-room the next day; where she was welcomed by her two friends with many professions of pleasure; and Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared. Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit.
The situation changed the moment the gentlemen entered. Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned towards Darcy, and she had something to say to him before he had advanced many steps; it was apparent concern for her friend was nothing to her designs on him. Mr. Darcy seemed little inclined to speak with her, though. He went directly to Jane and addressed himself to her with a polite congratulation and soft conversation. Elizabeth watched with interest; he paid Jane a compliment just by conversing with her, something he rarely did with Miss Bingley if he could avoid it, and she so obviously wishing to capture his interest. Mr. Hurst also made her a slight bow, and said he was "very glad" but diffuseness and warmth remained for Bingley's salutation, which Elizabeth though very much in his character and very befitting a host. He was full of joy and attention. The first half hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest Jane 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, saw it all with great fondness, and did not mind not being a part of the conversation but instead was content to observe.
As for Mr. Darcy and Jane, since his attentions to Jane--though sparing--far exceeded any he had paid to any woman outside the Netherfield party (toward the available lady of which, upon observation, it became quite clear he had no intentions of any sort) it had to be assumed that he held a marked preference for Jane's company. Perhaps he was in love already, as much as such a proud man was capable of being in love. Jane's reserve was hard to penetrate, Elizabeth thought, but her sister always spoke well and fondly of the gentleman. It was decided, she determined. If Jane should love the man, she would be happy for her sister. She didn't have to LIKE him to accept and support him as her brother-in-law. It was true that Jane was always eager to like and approve of everyone, but she was also a woman of good sense and discernment. If Jane should like Mr. Darcy then that would be enough to content Elizabeth that his character was not what she had originally surmised it to be.
After paying his respects to Jane, Mr. Darcy took up a book. Miss Bingley did likewise, making a good show of reading after Darcy's remarks a few nights previously, but her 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 chuses, 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."
Miss Bingley made no answer; 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 agreed to it immediately. 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 chusing 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 Elizabeth's answer, and she was now quite distressed at Miss Bingley angling so obviously for Mr. Darcy's attention while Jane was present; "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 chuse this method of passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking; -- 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!" cried Miss Bingley. "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, rather astounded herself that Mr. Darcy would speak so in the presence of her sister, whose company he preferred. "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."
"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride -- where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation."
Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile. So he admits it, she thought, glancing over at Jane, who was engrossed in her conversation with Bingley. Even compliments himself on it. That is unfortunate.
"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, "I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is I believe too little yielding, certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost for ever."
"That is a failing indeed!" cried Elizabeth. "Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it; you are safe from me."
"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome."
"And your defect is a propensity to hate every body."
"And yours," he replied with a smile, "is willfully to misunderstand them."
"Do let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share. "Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst."
Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the 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.
*****
In response to Elizabeth's inquiry, Mrs. Bennet sent word that the carriage could not possibly be sent for her and Jane until Tuesday, and Elizabeth suspected this had as much to do with Mrs. Bennet's designs on at least one of the gentlemen inhabiting Netherfield for a son-in-law as it had to do with any true preoccupation of the horses. Elizabeth was distressed; she wanted to return home before Mr. Darcy's pride vexed her to the point of doing something impolitic and injuring his regard for Jane, and Jane herself felt she could not impose upon her friends at Netherfield any longer.
They requested the use of Mr. Bingley's carriage, an idea that met with protestations from that fine gentleman (and less enthused ones from his sister) and he pressed them to remain at least until the next day. Miss Bingley was less than pleased at the delay, for she wanted Elizabeth out of the house much more than she cared to have Jane linger.
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, 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.
Elizabeth would have been surprised indeed to know of his resolve. His disinclination to speak to her came as no shock, but her understanding of the reasons behind it was quite flawed. Every time he was cordial to Jane and barely civil to herself she took as a testament to his preference for Jane. The idea that he was comfortable with Jane simply because there was no expectation in that quarter never occurred to her.
In the end, the only one who truly regretted their departure from Netherfield Sunday morning was Mr. Bingley.
Part Five
"It would be just as well," Mrs. Bennet theorized as she had a private word with Elizabeth on the matter, "that you pay Mr. Collins every attention, and leave Mr. Bingley to one of your sisters. Lydia, for instance, could do quite well for him, for she's so merry, she'd make him very good company indeed."
Elizabeth knew from long experience that there was no use in arguing with her mother on the matter. That she had absolutely no intention of encouraging Mr. Collins, or accepting him should she fail in discouraging him, was a matter that could be dealt with as the need arose. In the meantime, her lot was to deflect his admiration as tactfully as she possibly could and not disgrace the family with an imprudent display of ill-temper when she found her patience strained. It did not help the situation that the pompous and obsequious Mr. Collins, a clergyman by profession and one whom had come under the good graces--as he frequently informed anyone and everyone who cared to listen, and most who didn't--of the noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh, of whose condescension and generosity he could not say enough good, was by far the stupidest man of her acquaintance.
He had joined all the sisters on a stroll into town and, being unaccustomed to a great deal of walking, had fallen behind, obliging Elizabeth to fall back as well to keep him company. When they reached her sisters, they found them greeting Mr. Denny, an officer of the regiment encamped in Meryton and by far one of Lydia and Kitty's favorites. He was accompanied by a man introduced as Mr. Wickham, a friend of Denny's who had accepted a commission in the militia, the idea of which sent Lydia and Kitty into paroxysms of joy for the idea of seeing him in regimentals. He was, indeed, a handsome man, Elizabeth noted, with very pleasing manners and easy conversation. Her cousin was left somewhat out of the conversation, for there was little occasion for him to insert comments about his patroness--the only subject at which he was truly proficient--to two officers entertaining a group of young women.
The sound of horses drew their attention, and they looked down the street to discover Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley approaching. The two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman and greeted them all cheerfully, while Mr. Darcy displayed all of his customary reticence. They were then, Bingley said, on their way to Longbourn to inquire after Jane's health. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow and a polite response, and Elizabeth watched as Jane colored and looked pleased with the attention in a way that not even her reserve and composure could completely disguise. She smiled, certain she had her proof. Jane was well on her way to being in love with Mr. Darcy; it was quite settled.
Mr. Darcy, for his part, 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.
In another minute Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave and rode on with his friend.
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. She was concerned however, Jane allowed, for Mr. Darcy was a good and kind gentleman, and she could not
It was the next day, at a dinner engagement at their Aunt Philips' that they had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Wickham again, for their aunt was as fond of the regiment as the youngest Bennet girls and their mother and thought them very fine company indeed. He proved himself equally amiable on this second occasion as he had on their first meeting, and Elizabeth thought that had she not already decided where her affection must lie, she might be in great danger of admiring him. But it would be an imprudent inclination at best, and it was just as well that she welcome him as a friend and acquaintance and develop no deeper admiration while she attempted to ascertain her sentiments for Mr. Bingley.
This did not prevent her from being pleased when her aunt took Mr. Collins away to play cards, leaving Elizabeth free to engage Mr. Wickham in conversation when he disengaged himself from the enthusiastic company of her youngest sisters. 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.
Their encounter with Mr. Darcy the day before was still uppermost in her mind, though she could 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 hesitantly 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?"
"A little," she responded demurely, "I have spent four days in the same house with him, but my sister Jane finds his company very agreeable."
"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 too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial. I believe your sister's opinion would be shared by most all his acquaintance."
"But not by you?" Elizabeth asked, then, "Forgive me, that was a very impertinent question. It is only that his reception here in Hertfordshire has been mixed indeed. To Jane he has been most civil and attentive, but to others, he has been proud, even disdainful and insulting. One hardly knows what to make of him."
"It is not surprising," said Wickham, after a short interruption, "that society should wish to think well of him, even if their success is indifferent; 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 chuses to be seen."
"I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man," Elizabeth paused in consternation. It was ill-done of her, she knew, to gossip meanly about the man behind his back, and she should stop. It did not occur to her to question whether she still begrudged him his insult at their first meeting, so magnanimously had she resolved to accept him as Jane's suitor. A sympathetic ear was an inducement to powerful to resist, and she did not question her motives as she might have, but instead, demurred, "But then, I am not impartial either." 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!"
"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; "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 this is the case, 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."
Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than ever as he expressed them. Then she caught herself and thought of Mr. Bingley. It was abhorrent that such a good, kind gentleman should have been imposed upon by so false a friend. But Bingley was a sensible man; like Jane, he was eager to see good in everyone, but was not likely to be outright deceived. What could possibly explain such a contradiction between the man Wickham described and that man Bingley and Jane admired?
"But what," said she 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 capable of this. Though I have never liked him, there are others who do, and I would not wish to question their judgement. I had supposed him consider himself to be above his company, but did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this!"
After a few minutes reflection, however, she continued, "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 exclaimed, "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!" cried Elizabeth. "How abominable! 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 wonderful," replied Wickham, "for almost all his actions may be traced to pride; and pride has often been his best friend. It has connected him nearer with virtue than any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent; and in his behaviour to me, there were stronger impulses even than pride."
"Can such abominable pride as his, have ever done him good?"
"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."
"What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy?"
He shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother, very, very proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her education."
After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not help reverting once more to the first, and saying,
"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 Mr. Darcy is."
"Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please where he chuses. 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."
And what of Jane, she wondered. For Jane was not his equal in wealth or consequence, yet he treated her amiably. Could it be, then, that he was in love with her? The thought distressed Elizabeth, for she could not see herself allowing her dearest sister to be imposed upon, no matter how advantageous the match might be for their family. But what if Jane truly cared for Mr. Darcy, what then? To be made aware of his true character would hurt her excruciatingly. How could Elizabeth do that to such a tender soul as Jane?
It was sometime later that they observed Mr. Collins remarking on Lady Catherine de Bourgh again, and 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."
Elizabeth gasped and went pale, and suddenly she felt very ill indeed. That was it, then, it was settled. There was no hope for Jane with Mr. Darcy, and his character was now so much the worse for his having paid her such attentions, singled her out and trifled with her affections. There were any number of uncomplimentary terms commonly used to describe such a man and she was already applying them to Mr. Darcy in her mind as she asked, "Is it certain? They are engaged, Mr. Darcy and his cousin?"
"Yes, I believe it is," Wickham answered with a smile and a nod, unaware of her distress.
Oh poor Jane! Elizabeth lamented. How was she ever to be told? To add this horrible intelligence to the news of Darcy's true character and deceit of his company? How could it be borne? She had always been inclined to dislike Mr. Darcy, but now she felt certain she hated him, for the grief she was sure he was to give to her sister once his engagement was known.
"Mr. Collins," said she, struggling for composure and hoping to find it in ill report of Mr. Darcy's fiancee and her mother, "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 an arrogant, conceited woman."
"I believe her to be both 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 chuses that every one connected with him should have an understanding of the first class."
Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it, and they continued talking together till supper put an end to cards. At the end of the evening, Elizabeth went away with a heavy heart and a head full of the news he had given her. She barely heard the clamourous chatter of Mr. Collins and Lydia, who each expounded separately of the wonderful evening they'd had. All her thoughts were occupied with how she could ever tell Jane what she had learned.
"Jane," Elizabeth said gently that night after the others had gone to bed, "I fear I have most grievous information concerning Mr. Darcy to tell you." Sadly, she related to Jane the story Wickham had told her about his own dealings with Mr. Darcy. She resolved to leave out the news about Mr. Darcy's engagement until Jane was aware of his true character. Once she understood he was not an honorable gentleman, she would not like him so well, and the news of his engagement would be a relief to her, rather than a source of pain.
Jane listened with astonishment and concern; she knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be so unworthy of Mr. Bingley's regard. Nor did it match her own understanding of the man; and yet, it was not in her nature to question the veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham. The possibility of his having really endured such unkindness, was enough to interest all her tender feelings; and nothing therefore remained to be done, but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of each, and throw into the account of accident or mistake, whatever could not be otherwise explained.
"They have both," said she, "been deceived, I dare say, in some way or other, of which we can form no idea. Interested people have perhaps misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short, impossible for us to conjecture the causes or circumstances which may have alienated them, without actual blame on either side."
At this declaration, Elizabeth despaired. Jane was determined to like Mr. Darcy, no matter what intelligence to the contrary she possessed against his character. It was so very like Jane! Elizabeth thought in frustration, to think a person deceived rather than believe him to be the deceiver himself.
"Very true, indeed," Elizabeth answered, trying to disguise her distress as levity. "And now, my dear Jane, what have you got to say in behalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned in the business? Do clear them too, or we shall be obliged to think ill of somebody."
"Laugh as much as you chuse, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion. My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgraceful light it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating his father's favourite in such a manner, one, whom his father had promised to provide for. It is impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had any value for his character, could be capable of it. Can his most intimate friends be so excessively deceived in him? oh! no."
And, of course, after his excessive attentions to herself, Jane WOULD consider herself among his most intimate friends. Elizabeth felt ready to weep with sorrow for her sister.
"I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley's being imposed on, than that Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself as he gave me last night; names, facts, every thing mentioned without ceremony. If it be not so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was truth in his looks."
"It is difficult indeed, it is distressing. One does not know what to think."
"I beg your pardon; one knows exactly what to think."
But Jane could think with certainty on only one point, that Mr. Bingley, if he had been imposed on, would have much to suffer when the affair became public. And Elizabeth was of much the same mind concerning Jane, since her sister would not think of herself in any case. And now her plans for letting Jane know of Darcy's engagement were quite waylaid.
The next morning, Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their personal invitation for the long expected ball at Netherfield, which was fixed for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted to see their dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since their separation. It occurred to Elizabeth that Miss Bingley must not consider Jane any true rival for the affections for Mr. Darcy, or she would not treat her quite so well. Unless her aim was to place herself in company with Jane in Darcy's eyes as often as possible, to let him judge how the country lady suffered in comparison. And she certainly could not know of his engagement to Miss Anne de Bourgh, which was the only satisfaction Elizabeth could derive from the whole business. To the rest of the family they paid little attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible, saying not much to Elizabeth, and nothing at all to the others. They were soon gone again, rising from their seats with an activity which took their brother by surprise, and hurrying off as if eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet's civilities.
The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in compliment to her eldest daughter on Mr. Darcy's behalf, and was particularly flattered by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, thinking he must have come as a sort of proxy for his friend, instead of a ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the society of her friends, and Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing with Mr. Bingley and coming to some determination of whether she might have some regard for him or not. Perhaps she might have the opportunity of undeceiving him regarding Mr. Darcy, which might in turn make it easier for her to convince Jane before her sister was left with a broken heart, and of seeing a confirmation of every thing in Mr. Darcy's looks and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended less on any single event, or any particular person, for though they each meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham, he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a ball was at any rate, a ball.
Elizabeth's spirits were so low still regarding Jane that, though she did not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, when he chanced to comment on the ball, she could not help asking him in an excess of poor temper whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation, and, if he did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening's amusement. She was rather surprised to find that he entertained no scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to dance.
"I am by no means of opinion, I assure you," said he, "that a ball of this kind, given by a young man of character to respectable people, can have any evil tendency. And I am so far from objecting to dancing myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course of the evening, and I take this opportunity of soliciting yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially, a preference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right cause, and not to any disrespect for her."
Elizabeth knew herself to be trapped and her wrechedness was complete. She had hoped she might be engaged by Mr. Bingley for those very dances, but now there was no polite way to decline. Her temper had been never worse timed. It was a hopeless case, however, and she attempted to make a good show of graciousness (aware as she was of Jane's tender look of sympathy and Lydia's outright revulsion) as she felt as she accepted the offer, to the profuse delight of her cousin.
If she had thought herself thoroughly miserable over Jane's situation with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Collins trapping her into a commitment to dance, she soon came to understand she was quite, quite mistaken as her mother once more emphasized in a moment of privacy how very agreeable a son-in-law Mr. Collins would make. It seemed quite a done thing in Mrs. Bennet's mind. Unable to bear any more of her mother's expectations, her cousin's obsequious compliments, her younger sisters' excitement over gowns and officers as both related to the ball, and Jane's serenity in light of the certain disaster which must inevitably befall her, Elizabeth made her excuses and went for a walk without giving anyone the opportunity to offer to keep her company.
Part 6
She was grieved to learn that Mr. Wickham had not attended due to business in London, which, Mr. Denny assured her, would have have been so very pressing had the gentleman not wished to avoid certain parties. Elizabeth, whose first thought had been that Mr. Darcy had prevented Wickham being invited, begrudged his absence no less for knowing the truth of the matter and still laid the responsibility for it at Darcy's door. She could hardly reply with tolerable civility to the polite inquiries which Mr. Darcy directly afterwards approached to make to Jane. Attention, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham and an encouragement of his imposition upon the excellent Mr. Bingley and his deceit toward her sister. She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away with a degree of ill humour that she could not wholly surmount even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality to Darcy provoked her, even as she admired his kindness and attentiveness toward herself and her sister. She knew her inability to be anything more than civil to Darcy must distress Jane and therefore removed herself from their company.
She sought out the company of Charlotte Lucas and related to her the intelligence of Darcy's character she had gained and the grief it was giving her. Charlotte's reaction, she was distressed to find, was much the same as Jane's; she thought Wickham's word not enough to condemn Darcy despite the honesty of his appearance. Unwilling to think on it any further, Elizabeth changed the subject and tried to find humor in the oddities of her cousin, and pointed him out to Charlotte's particular notice. The two first dances, however, brought a return of distress; they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn, apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. She noted Mr. Bingley had engaged Jane for these dances, and she was surprised it had not been Mr. Darcy instead. But then, perhaps Mr. Darcy and Jane had come to an understanding about dancing, since it was an activity which gave that gentleman so little pleasure.
When those dances were over she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with her as she waited for Mr. Bingley to come and ask her to dance, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of mind. She spent some time astonished that he had even asked, when he had not yet danced with Jane. What on earth could possess him to make such an offer to her, unless he meant to gain further favor with Jane by recommending himself to her? Charlotte tried to console her.
"I dare say you will find him very agreeable."
"I most certainly shall not!" she protested. "How could I ever find him agreeable knowing what he has done to Jane and to Wickham?"
When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her, in a whisper, not to be a simpleton, and allow the word of Wickham to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence. Elizabeth made no answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and reading in her neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with:
"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples."
He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.
"Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent."
"Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?"
"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."
"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"
"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb."
"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."
"I must not decide on my own performance."
He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he commented on seeing them in Meryton the other day and how he remembered her remark that it was a walk she and her sisters often took. She was unable to resist the temptation to bring up Wickham in the hopes of getting a reaction from him and said, "When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."
The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth was pleased to see it. Perhaps she might find a way to warn him off trifling with Jane if he knew she had the measure of his character. At length Darcy spoke, and in a constrained manner said,
"Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends; whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."
"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied Elizabeth with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."
Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At that moment Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. Darcy he stopt with a bow of superior courtesy, to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.
"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear Sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza (glancing toward Jane significantly), shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy: but let me not interrupt you, Sir. You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me."
The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir William's allusion to her sister seemed to strike him forcibly, and his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together once more, leaving Elizabeth to regret once again that she had not been available for Mr. Bingley to claim herself for this dance. Recovering himself, however, shortly, Mr. Darcy turned to his partner, and said,
"Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of."
"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. Unless we were to speak perhaps of your family, for I have had the pleasure this week of gaining intelligence of your cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh, from persons closely associated with your family."
"On that subject, I have little to say indeed, Miss Bennet. It has never been my custom to gratify idle gossip."
"Indeed!" she exclaimed, astounding at his lack of chagrin as she mentioned his fiancée. He did not even have the grace to look abashed, lending lack of repentance to her growing list of grievances to lay at his door. Bad enough he should play with her dearest sister's affections this way, without baldly denying it to the face of a person who knew full well what he was about. "Why, it seems you have little to say on a great many subjects."
"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.
"Books -- Oh! no. -- I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings."
"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions."
"No, I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else."
"The present always occupies you in such scenes, does it?" said he, with a look of doubt.
"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming,
"I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."
"I am," said he, with a firm voice.
"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"
"I hope not."
"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."
"May I ask to what these questions tend?"
"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."
"And what is your success?"
She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."
"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that report may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."
"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity."
"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied. She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in silence; on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against another.
They had not long separated when Miss Bingley came towards her, and with an expression of civil disdain thus accosted her,
"So, Miss Eliza, I hear you have made the acquaintance of George Wickham! Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand questions; I'm sure you're quite delighted with him, of course. But it is troubling to find that the young man forgot to tell you, among his other communications, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy's using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has been always remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated Mr. Darcy, in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother thought he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way. His coming into the country at all, is a most insolent thing indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favorite's guilt; but really, considering his descent one could not expect much better."
"Mr. Wickham is indeed a very amiable man, but as to his being my favorite, I'm certain this is new intelligence to me; I had no such knowledge myself," said Elizabeth angrily, annoyed by the woman's presumption. Miss Bingley assuredly meant to create doubt as to the possibility of a match between Elizabeth and her brother. She doubtless could not welcome the idea of her brother's affections being engaged by someone whose connections and society were so far below what she considered acceptable; "But his guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same, for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself."
"I beg your pardon," replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer. "Excuse my interference. It was kindly meant."
"Insolent girl!" said Elizabeth to herself. "You are much mistaken if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see nothing in it but your own willful ignorance and the malice of Mr. Darcy." She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening. Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and despaired once more, furious that Mr. Darcy should play her sister so falsely.
"Lizzy," Jane said calmly, "I've had the opportunity to inquire about Mr. Wickham. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has received; and I am sorry to say that by his account as well as his sister's, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's regard."
"Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?"
"No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton."
"This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am perfectly satisfied. But what does he say of the living?"
"He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left to him conditionally only."
"I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity," said Elizabeth warmly; "but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr. Bingley's defence of his friend was a very able one I dare say, but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture still to think of both gentlemen as I did before. Oh, Jane! It grieves me to distress you, for I know you want to think well of the man, but I simply cannot in light of these circumstances, and I can't bear that you are being imposed upon much as Mr. Bingley himself is."
Jane looked discomfited and seemed ready to protest Darcy's imposing upon her, but subsided and said firmly, "I cannot think ill of him without further proof is all," and changed the subject. Jane was quite delighted with her evening thus far, and with Mr. Bingley's amiability in dancing with her twice. Elizabeth listened with delight that Jane approved of Mr. Bingley, and her evening took a decided turn for the better when they were joined by Mr. Bingley himself, who was all charm and merriment, and who engaged them both in conversation. Her hopes of Mr. Bingley inviting her for a dance were once again disrupted, though, for she was drawn aside by Charlotte Lucas, who sought to enquire as to how she had enjoyed her last dance partner, and then had the mortification of witnessing Mr. Collins' presumption in introducing himself to Mr. Darcy on the basis of his acquaintance with Lady Cathering de Bourgh and Darcy's cousin and his position as a clergyman. She was not sure who to think the worst of, Mr. Collins for his breech of etiquette, or Mr. Darcy who treated it with all the scant civility it deserved.
Seeing she had lost her chance against to be engaged by Mr. Bingley for a dance, Elizabeth's discontent with the course of the evening reached new heights. She wanted nothing but felicity for her sister, but she was now convinced that such a thing was never to be had in Mr. Darcy's company. She found herself wishing Caroline Bingley would succeed in her ploys to win Darcy's favor and take the heartache destined to be Jane's upon herself. But it seemed that everyone except herself was anticipating the match with nothing but joy, not least of which was her mother, who boasted of Mr. Darcy's obvious favour for Jane, effusions which Elizabeth was given no opportunity to escape when supper found her seated nearby each other. She was deeply vexed to find that her mother was talking to Lady Lucas freely, openly, and of nothing else but of her expectation that Jane would be soon married to Mr. Darcy. It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being such a distinguished young man, and so rich, were the first points of self-gratulation; and then it was such a comfort to think that while Derbyshire was so far away, Jane would be mistress of Pemberley, a grand estate by all accounts. She would miss her eldest daughter, certainly, but she could be comforted by the thought that once Elizabeth was engaged to Mr. Collins, Lydia might capture Mr. Bingley's favour, and so her favorite of all her daughters would be settled by three miles from Longbourn. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on such occasions it is the etiquette but no one was less likely than Mrs. Bennet to find comfort in staying at home at any period of her life. She concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no chance of it.
In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother's words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper; for to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who was not seated far enough from them to avoid his overhearing. Her mother only scolded her for interrupting when she tried to bring this to her mother's attention.
Nothing that she could say had any influence. Her mother would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity.
Just as well, she finally concluded, dispirited by the whole affair. Perhaps if the behaviour of her mother was shameful enough, Mr. Darcy might reconsider his attentions to Jane and leave her be. But she did greatly fear what might happen if word of it got back to Mr. Bingley; she was certain now she would not get the opportunity to confirm or disprove whether she had any regard for him.
She looked at Jane, to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly talking to Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued however impenetrably grave. Her mortification was by no means completed, however, until Mary had made a spectacle of herself by playing and singing, and Mr. Collins had taken the opportunity to expound to the company in general on the acceptability of music with the calling of a clergyman, which led into a monologue on his other responsibilities in that office and so forth. To Elizabeth it appeared, that had her family made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit, or finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice due to Jane, to whom the office fell to keep him engaged and otherwise unaware of the spectacle, and that his feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he must have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations was bad enough, and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable.
The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teazed by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though he could not prevail with her to dance with him again, put it out of her power to dance with others, including Mr. Bingley. In vain did she entreat him to stand up with somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room. He assured her that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it; that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to her, and that he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself.
She was at least free from the offence of Mr. Darcy's farther notice; though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham and his fiancee, and rejoiced in it.
The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart; and by a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriages a quarter of an hour after every body else was gone, which gave them time to see how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her sister scarcely opened their mouths except to complain of fatigue, and were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing, threw a languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the rest, and Elizabeth once again was grateful for her sister's grace in keeping Bingley apart from the others. Elizabeth preserved as steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was to much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of "Lord how tired I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn.
When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn; and addressed herself particularly to Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, to assure them how happy they would make her by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.
Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied; and quitted the house under the delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly see her daughter settled at Pemberley in the course of three or four months, and one at Netherfield perhaps as well. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Mr. Darcy and Pemberley.
Part Seven
"My dear cousin, you can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse..." Mr. Collins began, having conspired with her mother to trap Elizabeth into a private interview with him the morning after the Netherfield. The pompous man was perspiring and fidgeting, and Elizabeth regarded him with a complacency she did not feel. Her only hope of escaping this situation without undue and unpleasant histrionics was to head the proposed discourse off at the pass. She felt strongly the concern her parents felt over the entail of her father's estate, and knew her mother's wish to secure an alliance with the heir of the estate had some hint of validity, but she also knew she would sooner be turned out into the hedgerows than consent to marry the man herself. Filial obligation extended only so far.
"Of course, cousin," she smiled warmly, startling the man with her interruption.
"Y-y-you know, then, what I'm about to ask?"
"Indeed, no one could question your intentions, sir. They've been most apparent all week long. And I thank you, most sincerely, for taking me into your confidence. I can appreciate your struggles, for the emotions of my sister Mary are not always easy to ascertain, but--without betraying any sisterly confidences, of course--I can assure you that she would most happily be the recipient of your addresses."
"M-m-Mary? But Cousin Elizabeth..."
"Indeed, I should think after the attentions you've paid her this week, it would be bordering on improper NOT to make her an offer. Her affection for you is quite obvious, and your mutual interests work very well in your favor. I will confess, a mutual study of Fordyce's Sermons is a novel way to go about performing a courtship, but after all the time you've spent together this week working on them, not to mention your effusive praise of her playing and singing last night at the ball, why, there's hardly a person in the neighborhood who does not expect the announcement soon. I can assure you, sir, Mary will make an excellent clergyman's wife, so reverent and studious is her nature. Lady Catherine de Bourgh cannot help but approve, I'm certain. You would not be so fortunate in many other ladies, I think. I, for example, have a marked tendency toward impertinence your patroness would find most displeasing. 'Tis fortunate, then, is it not, cousin, that Mary should be the recipient of your affections rather than myself? A man in your position cannot take precautions enough to guard against the slightest hint of impropriety, is that not so?"
At this, her cousin, whose posture usually was fixed in a permanent half-bow, straightened somewhat, and looked nervously around as though expecting to be caught in some imagined impropriety by spies peering through the windows and around the doors. Pulling out a handkerchief, he swabbed his forehead, then nodded, his expression resolved. "You're right, of course, cousin," he said in a subdued tone. "Thank you very much for your advice."
"You are most welcome, sir. This evening after dinner, I shall contrive to offer you a moment of privacy with Mary. That will offer you an opportunity to compose yourself and prepare your addresses, and offer me a chance to prepare Mary. You understand my mother is highly nervous about this whole business, so when we go out, you must assure her that all is well and that she need not fret about it. The rest will work itself out, I'm certain."
Elizabeth left the room with a serene expression on her countenance. Her mother paced the vestibule in a dither of nervous anticipation, and when Elizabeth swept past her toward the parlor where her other sisters were working, scurried to catch her up, demanding stridently, "Well?!"
"All is well, Mama, you need not worry. Mary?" she interrupted that sister at the pianoforte where she had been practicing, "Would you mind joining me upstairs for a moment? Jane, could you accompany us?"
"Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet shouted, "You will be the death of me, girl! You must tell me, did he propose or not?"
"He did not, Mama. Perhaps you may need to wait a few more hours before gaining Mr. Collins for a future son-in-law. Come, Mary," she said firmly, overruling the girl's protests that she was in the middle of practice. Jane reassured her and coaxed her up the stairs, while Mrs. Bennet rushed to Mr. Collins to ascertain what had gone awry in their scheme. She was no more reassured by Mr. Collins statement that all was well than she was by Lizzy, and spent the rest of the afternoon upstairs hounding Elizabeth in her chambers, where she was industriously working with Jane to prepare Mary for her upcoming marriage proposal.
*****
Supper at Longbourn that night was a joyous affair. Mary had, of course, gladly accepted Mr. Collins' proposal after dinner and that gentleman had rushed forthwith to secure the approval of her father while Mary re-entered the parlor, blushing to the very roots of her hair, which Elizabeth and Jane had taken some trouble to arrange in a manner more flattering than she normally wore. Her drab day dress they had replaced with one of their more fashionable gowns, and they had laced her up tighter than normal to emphasize what little figure she had.
Charlotte Lucas arrived the next morning while their mother was in her third fit of raptures already that day about the wonderful match Mary had made, and how she had always known Mary would wed such an impeccable gentleman as Mr. Collins. Poor plain overlooked Mary wasn't quite sure what to make of all the attention she was suddenly the recipient of. Lydia and Kitty were eager to quit the house and escape the commotion, and met Charlotte on her way in, and Lydia cried,
"I am glad you are come, for there is such fun here! What do you think has happened? Mr. Collins has made an offer to Mary, and she has accepted him! Mary, to be wed, and she the plainest and dullest of us all! And Mr. Collins--I vow I would not accept him, even if I were as plain and dull as she!"
The rest of the family was in the breakfast room, where Charlotte joined them. Mr. Collins was seated beside Mary, who was inordinately pleased by his recounting of Rosings Park and the parish he presided over, led by the right honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, naturally. Mrs. Bennet effused over her pride in Mary and joy at the union, though not without some touch of bewilderment every time she regarded Elizabeth, who sat silently by looking pleased with herself indeed.
After breakfast, the girls walked to Meryton, to inquire if Mr. Wickham were returned, and to lament over his absence from the Netherfield ball. He joined them on their entering the town and attended them to their aunt's, where his regret and vexation, and the concern of every body was well talked over. To Elizabeth, however, he voluntarily acknowledged that the necessity of his absence had been self-imposed.
"I found," said he, "as the time drew near, that I had better not meet Mr. Darcy; that to be in the same room, the same party with him for so many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes might arise unpleasant to more than myself."
She highly approved his forbearance, and they had leisure for a full discussion of it, and for all the commendation which they civilly bestowed on each other, as Wickham and another officer walked back with them to Longbourn, and during the walk he particularly attended to her. Elizabeth demurely accepted these attentions but did not encourage them; nothing could come of it, despite however pleasing she might find his company, and she was still determined to get to know Mr. Bingley better and learn if she might have some regard for him beyond that of a friend.
Soon after their return, a letter was delivered to Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and was opened immediately. The envelope contained a sheet of elegant, little, hot-pressed paper, well covered with a lady's fair, flowing hand; and Elizabeth saw her sister's countenance change as she read it, and saw her dwelling intently on some particular passages. Jane recollected herself soon, and putting the letter away, tried to join with her usual cheerfulness in the general conversation; but Elizabeth felt an anxiety on the subject which drew off her attention even from Wickham; and no sooner had he and his companion taken leave, than a glance from Jane invited her to follow her up stairs. When they had gained their own room, Jane taking out the letter, said,
"This is from Caroline Bingley; what it contains, has surprised me a good deal. The whole party have left Netherfield by this time, and are on their way to town; and without any intention of coming back again. You shall hear what she says."
She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information of their having just resolved to follow their brother to town directly, and of their meaning to dine that day in Grosvenor Street, where Mr. Hurst had a house. The next was in these words. "I do not pretend to regret any thing I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my dearest friend; but we will hope at some future period, to enjoy many returns of the delightful intercourse we have known, and in the mean while may lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most unreserved correspondence. I depend on you for that." To these high flown expressions, Elizabeth listened with all the insensibility of distrust; she lamented the absence of Mr. Bingley, but could not but be pleased with Mr. Darcy's departure. Knowing, as she did, of his engagement, she thought it was certainly for the best that he remove himself from Jane's company, for any further attentions to her sister would not only border on the improper, they would only serve to deepen her sister's affection for the man and make her heartbreak all the more inconsolable when he was inevitably wed to his cousin.
"It is unlucky," said she, after a short pause in which she considered her options. It would be unkind to reveal Mr. Darcy's engagement to Jane now, when his loss was so fresh; she would give it time and let her sister's affection diminish before telling what she knew, "that you should not be able to see your friends before they leave the country. But perhaps Mr. Bingley and his sisters will return before long and you can resume your acquaintance with them," she intentionally failed to include Mr. Darcy among their numbers, hoping to divert Jane's attention to the sisters, but Jane still looked displeased.
"Caroline decidedly says that none of the party will return into Hertfordshire this winter. I will read it to you..."
"When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which took him to London, might be concluded in three or four days, but as we are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when Charles gets to town he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintance are already there for the winter; I wish I could hear that you, my dearest friend, had any intention of making one in the croud, but of that I despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of whom we shall deprive you."
"It is evident by this," added Jane, "that he comes back no more this winter."
"It is only evident that Miss Bingley does not mean he should."
"Why will you think so? It must be his own doing. He is his own master. But you do not know all. I will read you the passage which particularly hurts me. I will have no reserves from you. 'Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister, and to confess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare to entertain of her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before mentioned to you my feelings on this subject, but I will not leave the country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already, he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing, her relations all wish the connection as much as his own, and a sister's partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to favour an attachment and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?'"
"What think you of this sentence, my dear Lizzy?" said Jane as she finished it. "Is it not clear enough?"
"Indeed, it is very clear," Elizabeth replied smartly, "Caroline Bingley wishes for Mr. Darcy's attentions for herself and hopes that one intermarriage between their families will promote another. We are not rich enough, or grand enough for them and she would not wish for either her brother or Mr. Darcy to bestow their affections upon any of us. But, I dare say, she will be disappointed indeed." She did not add--certainly by Miss de Bourgh if not by Jane.
"If we thought alike of Miss Bingley," replied Jane, "your representation of all this, might make me quite easy. But I know the foundation is unjust. Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving any one; and all that I can hope in this case is, that she is deceived herself."
"That is right!" Elizabeth grasped the proffered solution gratefully. "You could not have started a more happy idea, since you will not take comfort in mine. Believe her to be deceived by all means, I daresay she shall not be the first person deceived by Mr. Darcy. You have now done your duty by her, and must fret no longer. Do not mourn Mr. Darcy's loss; I dare say he was unworthy of you. Let Caroline Bingley have him if she wishes and be grateful."
"But Lizzy, I do not think Mr. Darcy has deceived Caroline; you judge him too harshly. Besides, it is not Mr. Darcy--"
Elizabeth interrupted her again. "If he returns no more this winter, it matters not how I have judged him. Time shall tell, I suppose. A thousand things may arise in six months!" She contrived to smile for her sister, who looked distraught and fretful, but could not comfort her too far. It was best for Jane to become accustomed to the idea that Mr. Darcy would return no more. Still, she could not help but be aware of Caroline Bingley's alternative motive for rejoicing in the removal of the Netherfield party to London, and that was Mr. Bingley's detachment from herself. She could not mourn it too severely, for she'd never had an opportunity to decide her feelings for him, but she was offended indeed at his sisters' scheming and presumption. No doubt they wanted naught of Hertfordshire relations and would make certain they had naught of it if they could. But the idea of his returning no more Elizabeth treated with the utmost contempt. It appeared to her merely the suggestion of Caroline's interested wishes, and she could not for a moment suppose that those wishes, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young man so totally independent of every one. Her advice to Jane--which she knew would come to nothing--also held true in the case of Mr. Bingley.
They agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only hear of the departure of the family, without being alarmed on the score of the gentleman's conduct; but even this partial communication gave her a great deal of concern, and she bewailed it as exceedingly unlucky that the ladies should happen to go away, just as they were all getting so intimate together. After lamenting it however at some length, she had the consolation of thinking that Mr. Darcy would be soon down again and soon dining at Longbourn, and the conclusion of all was the comfortable declaration that, though he had been invited only to a family dinner, she would take care to have two full courses.
End of Part Seven
Part Eight
The end result was that Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of planning the wedding almost exclusively to herself, as well as boasting rights to Mrs. Lucas and Mrs. Long in having obtained such a son-in-law, and her Mary even less handsome and younger than Charlotte Lucas. The strangeness of Mr. Collins's entering a room with the intention of proposing to one daughter only to end the day having secured the hand of another seemed to have completely slipped her mind and instead she dwelled on the happiness that might be expected from the match, the excellent character of Mr. Collins, and the convenient distance of Hunsford from London.
Mr. Bennet's emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and such as he did experience he pronounced to be of a most agreeable sort; for it gratified him, he said, to discover that Mary, whom he had been used to think somewhat more sensible than his two youngest daughters--though not nearly as much so as Elizabeth or Jane--was as foolish as his wife.
Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness, and Kitty and Lydia were far from envying Mary, for Mr. Collins was only a clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news to spread at Meryton.
Elizabeth wondered on occasion if she had not done Mary a disservice, for could she truly be happy with such a stupid man, no matter how well she thought of him? Had her own wish to be rid of such an unwanted suitor led her to push her sister into a union which might someday cause her grief? But it was hard to imagine Mary being grieved, so happy did she look whenever Mr. Collins was mentioned. Her concerns she could not share with Jane, however, for Mr. Darcy had been gone a week and Jane showed no signs of emerging from the melancholy which had beset her upon his departure, with nothing else having been heard of his return.
Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her letter, and was counting the days till she might reasonably hope to hear again. The promised letter of thanks from Mr. Collins arrived on Tuesday, addressed to their father, and written with all the solemnity of gratitude which a twelvemonth's abode in the family might have prompted, and that he hoped to be able to return on Monday fortnight; for Lady Catherine, he added, so heartily approved his marriage, that she wished it to take place as soon as possible, which he trusted would be an unanswerable argument with his amiable Mary to name an early day for making him the happiest of men.
This intelligence distressed Mrs. Bennet exceedingly, for how could she plan a proper wedding in so short a time? Elizabeth and Jane spoke on behalf of Mary and Mr. Collins, however, and assured her that they would wish a quite and modest wedding rather than the lavish celebration Mrs. Bennet had been contemplating. Their mother was inclined to dismiss this notion as nonsense until Elizabeth reminded her of the necessity of pleasing her son-in-law's patroness to keep her favorably disposed toward his choice of wife until the marriage was complete, lest she influence him to seek elsewhere.
Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were comfortable on this subject. Day after day passed away without bringing any other tidings of Mr. Bingley than the report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more to Netherfield the whole winter; a report which highly incensed Mrs. Bennet, and which she never failed to contradict as a most scandalous falsehood.
Elizabeth wished she could be certain whether Bingley was actually indifferent, or if his sisters were successful in keeping him away. She finally confessed to Jane that she had heard report of Mr. Darcy's being engaged to his cousin, and this knowledge did not appear to deepen her sister's grief any more than it consoled it. Elizabeth could only feel sorrow for the loss of Mr. Bingley as an abstract hope upon which she'd never truly laid any expectations, but it was obvious Jane's attachment, despite her efforts at concealment, had been very strong indeed. Thereafter, between herself and Elizabeth, the subject was never alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained her mother, an hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Darcy, express her impatience for his arrival, or even require Jane to confess that if he did not come back, she should think herself very ill used. It needed all Jane's steady mildness to bear these attacks with tolerable tranquillity.
Mr. Collins returned most punctually on the Monday fortnight, and his reception at Longbourn was even more gracious than it had been on his first introduction. He was too happy, however, to need much attention; and luckily for the others, the business of love-making relieved them from a great deal of his company. The chief of every day was spent by him in the company of Mary, quite properly discussing sermons and other subjects of interest to them both, and ceasing only for meals and to retire for the night.
Mrs. Bennet was really in a most excited state. The very mention of any thing concerning the match threw her into a frenzy of celebration, and wherever she went she made sure the discussion revolved around that singular topic. The sight of Mary brought a smile and effusions of joy. As her successor in that house, she took what time Mary was not spending with Mr. Collins and instructed her on the proper running of the house, never forgetting to inform Mary of her duty to her mother upon her father's death and that the responsibility of supporting her surviving parent and unmarried sisters would fall on her shoulders.
"My dear, do not trouble the bride with such gloomy thoughts," Mr. Bennet admonished. "Let us hope for better things. Let us flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor."
*****
Miss Bingley's letter arrived, and put an end to doubt--not that Elizabeth had entertained any. The very first sentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in London for the winter, and concluded with her brother's regret at not having had time to pay his respects to his friends in Hertfordshire before he left the country.
Hope was over, entirely over; and when Jane could attend to the rest of the letter, she found little, except the professed affection of the writer, that could give her any comfort. Miss Darcy's praise occupied the chief of it. Her many attractions were again dwelt on, and Caroline boasted joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict the accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her former letter. She wrote also with great pleasure of her brother's being an inmate of Mr. Darcy's house, and mentioned with raptures some plans of the latter with regard to new furniture. Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon communicated the chief of all this, heard it in silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern for her sister, and resentment against all the others. That Mr. Darcy should have treated her most beloved sister so abominably was a trial to her patience indeed, but in all fairness, she could not but think it ultimately honorable that he had removed himself from her sister's company when he did, before any further expectation could be excited. In all, the thought better of him in breaking her sister's heart than she had when he had courted Jane's affections.
To Caroline's assertion of her brother's being partial to Miss Darcy she paid no credit, certainly not any more than she paid to Miss Bingley's intimations that Mr. Darcy was partial to herself. She rejoiced in the knowledge that someday, Miss Bingley would learn the full measure of her presumption when Mr. Darcy's engagement was made known. In discarding Caroline's biased account, however, it was impossible to ascertain where Mr. Bingley's affections truly lay, however, she was inclined to think Miss Bingley's continued insistence that they DID NOT lay in Hertfordshire as an indication in itself; if that woman thought it false, it must therefore be true. Much as she had always been disposed to like him, she could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness of temper, that want of proper resolution which now made him the slave of his sisters (and possibly even his friend, for she could not imagine Mr. Darcy countenancing a match any more than she could his sisters) and led him to sacrifice his own happiness to the caprice of their inclinations. It was a subject, in short, on which reflection would be long indulged, and must be unavailing. She could think of nothing else, and yet whether Bingley's regard had really died away, or were suppressed by his friends' interference; whether he held any true attachment, and whether she might have, in time and on further acquaintance, come to hold any attachment with him; whichever were the case, though her opinion of Mr. Bingley must be materially affected by the difference, her sister's situation as regarded Mr. Darcy remained the same, her peace equally wounded.
A day or two passed before Jane had courage to speak of her feelings to Elizabeth; but at last on Mrs. Bennet's leaving them together, after a longer irritation than usual about Mr. Darcy and his estate (news of his engagement Lizzy had not shared beyond her telling it to Jane, for she knew it would only add kindling to the fire of her mother's discontent and that Mrs. Bennet would not hesitate to bewail the intelligence in front of Jane) she could not help saying,
"Oh! that my dear mother had more command over herself; she can have no idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on this situation. But I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall all be as we were before."
Elizabeth looked at her sister with sympathy, but said nothing. No wish could be closer to her own heart but that Jane should dismiss the man from her affections forthwith.
"You doubt me," cried Jane, slightly colouring; "indeed you have no reason. He may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my acquaintance, but that is all. I have nothing either to hope or fear, and nothing to reproach him with. Thank God! I have not that pain. A little time therefore. I shall certainly try to get the better."
Elizabeth stared at her sister, certain Jane had lost her reason in applying the term "amiable" to Mr. Darcy.
With a stronger voice she soon added, "I have this comfort immediately, that it has not been more than an error of fancy on my side, and that it has done no harm to any one but myself."
"My dear Jane!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "you are too good. Your sweetness and disinterestedness are really angelic; I do not know what to say to you. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you deserve."
Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit, and threw back the praise on her sister's warm affection.
"Nay," said Elizabeth, "this is not fair. You wish to think all the world respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of any body. I only want to think you perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not be afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your privilege of universal good will. You need not. There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit or sense. I have met with two instances lately; one I will not mention; the other is Mary's marriage. It is unaccountable! In every view it is unaccountable!"
"My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings as these. They will ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance enough for difference temper. Mary is not like you, she does not consider that Mr. Collins may not be clever, only that he is a very good man. Consider Mr. Collins's respectability, and Mary's admiration of him. Remember that she is one of a large family; that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and be ready to believe, for every body's sake, that she may feel some affection for our cousin."
"My dear Jane, Mr. Collins is a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man; you know he is, as well as I do; and you must feel, as well as I do, that the woman who marries him, cannot have a proper way of thinking. We all know Mary is different from other young women, that she has her own brand of conceit and pomposity, but I cannot help but feel I may have done her a disservice. What if her regard for him turns out to be merely an infatuation, or what if he comes to resent her for the way I practically forced him to make the proposal in the first place?"
"I must think your language too strong in speaking of both," replied Jane, "and I hope you will be convinced of it, by seeing them happy together. But enough of this. You alluded to something else. You mentioned two instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I entreat you, dear Lizzy, not to pain me by thinking that person to blame, and saying your opinion of him is sunk."
"Indeed, it is not, Jane," Elizabeth replied, for to say it had would indicate it could possibly have gone lower than it had fallen after her interview with Mr. Wickham.
"We must not be so ready to fancy ourselves intentionally injured. We must not expect a young man to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very often nothing but our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than it does."
"And men take care that they should."
"If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified; but I have no idea of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine."
"I am far from dismissing any part of Mr. Darcy's conduct as being the product of design," said Elizabeth, continuing on when Jane appeared ready to protest; "but even without scheming to do wrong, or to make others unhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness, want of attention to other people's feelings, and want of resolution, will do the business,"
"Lizzy, I think you are not in possession of all the facts; you assume attachment where there was none."
"So now you say you felt no attachment to Mr. Darcy?"
"Indeed, I did not."
"Oh Jane," Lizzy signed, "You really are too good. If you feel obliged to demure your affection so that we might not feel any distress on your part, then I shall let the matter drop entirely. But I warn you, Mama will not be so accommodating of your sensibilities."
"My mother may be under a misapprehension, herself."
"Jane--dissemblance is not like you."
Jane seemed affronted at that, but as usual was too gentle to take exception. She merely sighed in resignation and turned the subject. "What think you, then, of Mr. Bingley's leaving Hertfordshire? Do you attribute that to design as well?"
"Yes; to the last. But if I go on, I shall displease you by saying what I think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you can."
"You persist, then, in supposing his sisters influence him."
"Yes, in conjunction with his friend."
"I cannot believe it. Why should they try to influence him? They can only wish his happiness, and if he is attached here, no other woman can secure it."
"Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides his happiness; they may wish his increase of wealth and consequence; they may wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, great connections, and pride."
"Beyond a doubt, they do wish him to chuse Miss Darcy," replied Jane; "but this may be from better feelings than you are supposing. They have known her much longer than they have known us; no wonder if they love her better. But, whatever may be their own wishes, it is very unlikely they should have opposed their brother's. What sister would think herself at liberty to do it, unless there were something very objectionable? If they believed him in love, they would not try to part him from the object of his affections; if he were so, they could not succeed. By supposing such an affection, you make every body acting unnaturally and wrong, and me most unhappy. Do not distress me by the idea. I am not ashamed of having been mistaken or, at least, it is slight, it is nothing in comparison of what I should feel in thinking ill of him or his sisters. Let me take it in the best light, in the light in which it may be understood."
Elizabeth could not oppose such a wish; and from this time neither Mr. Darcy's nor Mr. Bingley's name was scarcely ever mentioned between them.
Mrs. Bennet still continued to wonder and repine at Darcy's returning no more, and though a day seldom passed in which Elizabeth did not account for it clearly, there seemed little chance of her ever considering it with less perplexity. Her daughter endeavoured to convince her of what she did not believe herself, that his attentions to Jane had been merely the effect of a common and transient liking, which ceased when he saw her no more; but though the probability of the statement was admitted at the time, she had the same story to repeat every day. Mrs. Bennet's best comfort was that Mr. Darcy must be down again in the summer.
Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently. "So, Lizzy," said he one day, "your sister is crossed in love I find. I congratulate her. Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to be long outdone by Jane. Now is your time. Here are officers enough at Meryton to disappoint all the young ladies in the country. Let Wickham be your man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably."
"Thank you, Sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfy me. It is a farfetched hope indeed, but I would aspire to Jane's good fortune at being abandoned by someone thoroughly unlikeable to most of the world, so that I might distract myself from my heartache by defending his character as she does."
"True," said Mr. Bennet, "but it is a comfort to think that, whatever of that kind may befall you, you have an affectionate mother who will always make the most of it."
Mr. Wickham's society was of material service in dispelling the gloom, which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the Longbourn family. They saw him often, and to his other recommendations was now added that of general unreserve. The whole of what Elizabeth had already heard, his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him, was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed; and every body was pleased to think how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they had known any thing of the matter, and of the scandalous way he had broken Jane's heart.
Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might be any extenuating circumstances in the case, unknown to the society of Hertfordshire; her mild and steady candour always pleaded for allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes, but by everybody else Mr. Darcy was condemned as the worst of men.