Beginning, Section II

CHAPTER ONE

Posted on Monday, 4 July 2005

It is – as the Great Lady observed – a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighborhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of someone or other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day in her typical gentle voice, as she entered his study after being admitted, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let as last?”

Mr. Bennet looked up from his paper. “Is it,” he asked, folding his paper as his lady sat in the chair on the other side of his desk.

“Yes it is, for Mrs. Long has just been here,” said she with a slightly exasperated smile, which he returned with a simple roll of the eyes and a sympathetic smile. He sat up fully, hands clasped together on his desk to show that he was giving her his full attention. “And she told me all that she knew. Do not you want to know who has taken it?”

“You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.” Mr. Bennet's smile increased as his lady rolled her eyes in affectionate amusement at his wit.

“Well, then, Mrs. Long says that it is taken by single man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and he was so delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the house by the end of next week.”

“What is his name?”

“Bingley.”

“Is he married or single?”

“Mrs. Long said that Mr. Morris heard nothing about a wife or children from Mr. Bingley. He did speak of sisters and friends, but not of a wife. So I would suppose him to be single. And his fortune is about five thousand a year.” She paused to allow him to ponder her information, and decided to tease him. “What a fine thing for our girls, is it not?”

“How so? How can it affect them?” asked he, sitting back in his chair, arms back on the rests.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” replied his wife, feigning frustration, “how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.”

“Is that his design in settling here?”

“I never said such a thing! But he might have heard of our girls, of their accomplishments and beauty. Even if not, it very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes.”

Mr. Bennet shook his head, continuing their game. “I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley might like you best of the party.”

His wife blushed, and Mr. Bennet relinquished his sardonic smile, acknowledging that the game was likely ended. “My dear,” said she at last, “you flatter me. I have certainly have had my share of beauty, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has three grown-up sons and five grown-up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty.”

“In most cases,” observed Mr. Bennet quietly, “a woman has not often much beauty to think of.”

“In any case, my dear,” said she very seriously, “I am sure that you will call on him. Our sons are not around at present to accompany their sisters, and you are a protective father. It would only be a good establishment if Mr. Bingley's character is good. At the very least, I am certain that you shall go if only to engage in the study of character that you and Lizzy enjoy so much.”

“Aye, you have found me out, my love. Almost thirty years of marriage has certainly given you plenty of time to learn my secrets. Yes, I shall call on him, not only because it will please you, but it is also far better than sending him a few lines to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever of the girls he chooses.”

His wife laughed. “Would you even think of jesting in such a way if twenty such men should come into the neighborhood?”

“Depend on it, my dear. And if there ever are twenty, I will visit them all, but I am grateful that there are not. A father could not stand such a spectacle, which is why we rarely go to London. And your health, of course,” he added softly. “In truth, I am reluctant to let any of our girls go, no matter the gentleman's worth.”

“Oh, yes. None are silly, like so many other girls. Each has their own wonderful charms, and all have intelligence. Mrs. White has done an excellent job as their governess.”

Mr. Bennet rose. “Enough of this. Let us join the girls, and think of happier things.” She assented, and took his offered arm.

Mr. Thomas Edgar Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humor, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of eight-and-twenty years would be insufficient to make most women understand his character. But not his wife; her mind was quite developed, and her patience had lent itself to a rapid comprehension of his character, though he did truly exasperate her on occasion. A woman of great understanding, excellent education, and a gentle temper. Her constitution seemed weak, and her health was, as her husband observed, not the best. But she had survived the delivery of eight children (two of them twins), and had a will that was determined to see many more years with her beloved.

Most mothers in her station would be exclusively concerned with seeing their daughters married, and seeking solace in visiting and news. She did not worry about her girls; she loved their company so much that, like Mr. Bennet, she was reluctant to part with any of them. And her influence on them was so good that they could only benefit from staying longer at home.

Indeed, Thomas Bennett could hardly believe his luck. He was truly blessed to have the former Lady Anne Fitzwilliam as his wife.

CHAPTER TWO

More than thirty years earlier, Mr. Bennet had been attending school. As the youngest in his family, with an older brother and two older sisters, he had known that he had to make his own way in the world. Given his love of knowledge, he considered studying law. He found he had to learn to pay more attention to details, however; but he needed some way of making a living that his family believed was respectable.

Fortunately, he had the good fortune to make many friends at school and at Cambridge. Some due to how their wits meshed with his; some due to his intelligence and perception; others because of how he dealt with people; and still others because of his other friends. All of whom were (and still are) highly respectable men.

The man he made friends with first was a young man named Michael Fitzwilliam, the new Earl of Matlock. He had endured the misfortune of losing his father in the previous year, and he and his mother had the pressure of raising his sisters. Mr. Bennet and the young earl became thick as thieves before long, and some of the headmasters soon found their antics very tiresome. That is, when they were not playing chess or studying some obscure subject together. Each delighted in the other's wit; since each held extensive intelligence, they were often found in each other's company.

Another good friend was Michael Ferrars, a gentleman of excellent means and even higher character; which said a great deal to Mr. Bennet given that Mr. Ferrars' family resided largely in London. Of the three, he would have been considered the least likely to get into trouble; yet he was the one who frequently thought of the pranks to pull. It was Mr. Bennet's own father who said, “You must always watch out for the quiet ones.” He was often in the company of Mr. Bennet and the Earl, and they were referred to as “the Terrible Trio.”

More serious in his disposition was the future Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park in Northamptonshire. His father's health was fading fast, and much of his gravity could be attributed to the expectation of taking over the estate. His conduct was always proper and he would maintain that he tolerated not misbehavior; however, his intelligence and conversation permitted a good friendship to develop between himself and Mr. Bennet. Little did the latter realize that sometimes after hearing of the latest prank, the future baronet would slip into a quiet area and chuckle to himself at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

Mr. Henry Dashwood, a good man by any measure, was in several classes with Mr. Bennet, and spent many hours studying with him. Much conversation was had within the circle of Mr. Bennet's whenever Mr. Dashwood came around. His gentle nature allowed him to resolve conflicts within their circle, and among others, quite easily.

And then came the friends made through either of the latter two reasons listed above. Leading them was Walter Elliot, the future baronet of Kellynch Hall. His familial pride was abundant, and his vanity more so. None would have picked Mr. Bennet and the future Sir Walter as even casual friends; however, the latter was always impressed by important connections and friendships, and Mr. Bennet's friendship with the Earl was reason enough to form an acquaintance. Mr. Bennet's ability to laugh later over the follies of others allowed him to maintain a distant friendship, and the future baronet's letters provided him with great diversion.

This, my dear readers, is a mere sampling of the men who made up Mr. Bennet's social circle, but these are the men he would exchange much correspondence with over the years. These are the men who became privy to his life and the remarkable turns it took.

The turn that most affected him is one that the details ought to be forgotten, for it is a sad tale. The short of it is that Mr. Bennet took a journey on behalf of his father and older brother. His brother, Edward, was supposed to make it himself, but Thomas had persuaded their father to give him a chance to practice useful skills so he could make his way in their world if he was to become a lawyer as planned. However, while in Derbyshire, he caught a serious cold. Little did he know that had his brother taken the journey as planned, he would've died.

As it was, Mr. Bennet was severely ill, and was trapped at an inn. Fortunately, Matlock got word of his friend's whereabouts and arranged for excellent care. As the worst passed, he had Mr. Bennet moved to Matlock House so he could recover under the best circumstances. This proved a welcome relief to both men; Mr. Bennet had the best company he could ask for, and he did not have to worry about infecting his hosts as the whole family had been exposed to the illness already; Matlock had a male friend to talk with, which is a highly welcome thing to a man dealing with two younger sisters.

Knowing what you do about where Mr. Bennet came to in his life, you might be surprised to know that his first meeting with Lady Anne Fitzwilliam was hardly of the sort to make romantic tales. He was sitting in a chair in the library, and heard her come in. They spoke for a bit, neither able to see the other, until she came around to face him. Already impressed with her intelligence and patience – he had heard and met Lady Catherine earlier, and only his fondness for finding amusement in the follies of others allowed him to bear the ordeal – he hardly noticed her beauty at the time. Likewise, she noted his vast knowledge and wit, the latter being such as she had never seen before. She began to join the talks between her brother and his friend, much to the consternation of the imperious elder sister.

Thomas and Lady Anne grew fond of each other over the following weeks, but neither could say that it went beyond friendship. Certainly not when another friend, Mr. George Darcy, came along to court Anne. Indeed, when Mr. Bennet finally left for Longbourn, he had every expectation of hearing about an engagement, and was fully prepared to congratulate the couple. George was an excellent man, and Anne could not do better in character for a husband, Thomas believed.

What changed all this was another would-be suitor of Lady Anne's, the Marquis of ----. He was a vicious man with a character to match. Matlock would not consider him for any lady – or non-lady – of his acquaintance; so when the Marquis decided he wanted Lady Anne, he had no option but the immoral ones. Thus when she was on a vacation with her sister, he hired a man to abduct her, planning to create a situation where Matlock would have no choice but to accept the marriage. It happened at night, and the man was so strong that Lady Anne had no chance.

Fortunately for Lady Anne, Thomas Bennet was in the neighborhood. Riding through, he chanced to see a drugged Lady Anne. He successfully created a diversion to pull her away, hiding her in a merchant friend's house. The potential stain on her reputation was considerable, but he was only concerned about her health and preserving her for his friend.

When Lady Anne came out of her stupor, seeing Mr. Bennet was an enormous relief; here was someone who could help. But how to protect her from the Marquis? He was able to hear through his local friend that the lord had hired highwaymen to search for her. Though Mr. Bennet knew the identity of those men, he had to get her out of the Marquis' area. The friend suggested disguising themselves as a poor man and wife traveling to sell their wares in London. There were several close calls, but they managed to escape to the north of England. Arriving in Derbyshire in secret, the young lawyer and his dear friend had only themselves – plus a few servants, but their conversation was hardly enough to keep two highly educated minds occupied – as company. Mr. Bennet had to entertain her, keeping her spirits high, telling her that they would find a way out.

In the process, they grew extremely found of each other; indeed, by the time they reached Matlock Manor, they found a reluctance to separate from each other. Mr. Darcy was still willing to marry Lady Anne, and Lady Catherine was all for the match, but Matlock could foresee a serious problem: the Marquis' obsession with Anne would not likely be deterred by her marrying George Darcy. However, if she were hidden, if the world thought that she died, then she might be safe. He told Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy about his concerns. George firmly believed that he could protect Anne, but Matlock feared the resources and determination of the Marquis; only thinking that Anne died would stop him, and Matlock wanted his sister to have some happiness. Thomas Bennet was willing to help in any way he could, but even with the added fondness for her, the idea of marrying her never occurred to him until then.

Not wishing to offend George Darcy, Mr. Bennet did not mention is at first, but Matlock demanded to know his idea. The idea ran as such: have Anne pretend to be a gentlewoman with little fortune, and live as Mrs. Thomas Bennet. He stressed to George Darcy that he wished for Anne to be happy, and that he was certain that her happiness would be assured with George; however, Anne – who was in the room at the time – had begun to feel less attracted by society and the obligations of being Lady Anne Darcy, and so she felt it necessary to give Mr. Darcy permission to marry elsewhere.

Mr. Darcy protested fiercely, but Anne stopped him by saying that she found the idea of a quiet life as a lawyer's wife more comforting than being a notable society hostess. So Matlock told them to hurry to Gretna Green, and aided them in hiding the passage there and to Hertfordshire.

The Bennet family was shocked by the news, but agreed to keep the secret. In a local society full of gossips, none were told the truth. All were told that Thomas' new wife was the former Miss Anne Winter of Devonshire. There was such a lady, but she had died as a small child, and few knew about her; thus Thomas and Anne felt secure in keeping the secret.

Poor Mr. George Darcy was heartbroken. Under pressure to produce an heir, he married a duke's daughter within months of Lady Anne's secret marriage. Relations between Matlock Manor and Pemberley became strained at best, although George named his heir Fitzwilliam, over the objections of his bride.

Meanwhile, Mr. Bennett worked as a lawyer, going back and forth between London and Hertfordshire. Anne stayed at Longbourn the entire time, raising their children. Their first son was born within a year of the marriage, and two more followed two year later, the same year that old Mr. Bennett died. His loss was a great burden to bear.

Four years into their marriage, Edward Bennett married a local attorney's daughters. Miss Frances Gardiner seemed a lively and beautiful girl, but her understanding was less than what Edward could've desired. However, he was faithful to her, and her lasting beauty kept him enthralled enough that it helped him endure her complaints of her nerves.

Mrs. Bennett and Mrs. Thomas Bennett began having children within weeks of each other. When Anne and Thomas had a angelic-looking daughter named Jane, she followed Fanny and Edward's own lovely Julia. Each family followed with four more daughters.

However, a great tragedy occurred when Edward's youngest, Lydia, and Thomas' youngest, Georgiana (named in a then-silent olive branch effort towards their old friend), were born. Edward was out helping with a dispute between tenants when he contracted consumption. He barely lasted two days.

Deeply in mourning, Thomas became the master of Longbourn, but he did not force his sister-in-law to leave the house; they were to consider it as still their home. He took care of them, although Fanny's nerves tried his patience at times. Fortunately, Anne was talented at calming, and made sure to make Fanny feel that her opinions were heard and respected; her guidance, carefully executed, helped the widow feel more appreciated in society, and even able to recover herself tolerably after many years.

But, realizing that they needed more money, Mr. Bennett remained at the law office at first, leaving Anne to manage the estate. She was a capable housekeeper, though her quiet times before becoming the mistress of Longbourn meant that she found it difficult to remember how to be a hostess. Fanny Bennett, however, had mastered the art, and often helped plan the meals.

But Matlock had arranged quiet transfers of his sister's money, setting up dowries for each of her daughters and starting funds for her younger sons. Between Anne's careful management and Matlock's aid, Mr. Bennett was finally able to cease his law practice – an occupation that challenged his mind but left his heart empty – five years after Georgiana's birth. His extra income came from careful investments provided a great deal of needed income. Some of which came from investing in Fanny's brother's business, something Matlock did as well, allowing him quite a way to handle his sister's fortune.

The person most offended by the situation was Lady Catherine, who considered Mr. Bennett beneath Lady Anne; however, she kept silent about the truth, even to her own husband. They did not speak again until after Sir Lewis de Bourgh died, leaving her a widow with one daughter. Then she reluctantly renewed contact with her sister, out of loneliness and a need to give Anne, her daughter, more companions. Finding Mr. Bennett not so bad as she had thought, and even finding Fanny Bennett a pleasing companion (an event only made possible after Lady Anne carefully applied some brandy to their tea, which loosened their suspicions), she began arranging for regular visits between the houses. She also began to provide ways for Mr Bennet's children to visit the children of his friends without attracting attention.

For they had to proceed with caution; the Marquis was still alive, and very displeased that she disappeared. However, lacking evidence that she was still alive, he went on with his own life. He wed a few times, despite his poor reputation, which was aided by rumors that Matlock and his wife spread. However, all of his children died, and all of his wives died in childbirth. After the last death, he withdrew into his estate, angry at the world. But he still came out every so often, tricking poor young ladies into losing their virtue to him. He still had plenty of energy left to him.

Thus, Thomas and Lady Anne Bennett never could rest easy. Not while their enemy still lives.

CHAPTER THREE

Posted on Friday, 5 August 2005

Mr. Bennet was among the first to wait upon Mr. Bingley, assuring Mrs. Bennet – as he addressed his sister-in-law – of the fact daily, though he wished to insist that he would not visit their new neighbor. The disclosure of the event came that evening, to the general satisfaction of the family at dinner, in the following manner: he opened the dinner conversation with, “I hope that Mr. Bingley will like that new bonnet I saw you trimming, Lizzy.”

“We shall have to wait to see whether he likes it when we meet him as she is wearing it,” her mother, the lady of the house, responds calmly. Her voice a gentle reminder to be nice to those at the table who did not understand his wit.

“I am very grateful that you visited him,” began Mrs. Bennet, “for we have certainly few eligible men in the area.”

“Not so few that we could not two of your girls married,” Mr. Bennet points out.

“Aye,” the proud mother agreed, “my girls have done well enough. Young William Lucas is so wonderful to my Julia, and his efforts with my brother are so prosperous that their children will be well off for many years, as I am sure Sir William has much like left in him. And dear Elise shall make an excellent mistress for Hyde Park. But Mr. Bingley's entry to the neighborhood is a welcome thing, for he must have many rich friends who will do for the rest of the girls.”

“Yes, yes, and you shall have the honor of introducing some of our neighbors to Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Bennet said, “for I believe Mrs. Long will not return until the day after the next ball. Am I right, my dear?”

“Your memory is as sharp as ever,” Lady Anne responded. “Now, do satisfy our curiosity about this young man. What coat does he wear? How tall is he? What do you think of his character? What have you learned of his family, his carriages, and whatever else you could stand to ask about?”

“Enough, my dear,” her husband declared, “do not expect me to notice how well-made a man is. I am an old man with young daughters who are unattached, and nieces to be concerned about. That said,” he added, more calmly, “I will tell you that Mr. Bingley is an affable young man. In many ways, I was reminded of Jane. He seemed fairly eager to please, and delighted with the neighborhood. I did not mention that I have five unmarried daughters, and several unmarried nieces, but he has heard of their 'famous' beauty from the neighbors, notably Sir William. He was also there; we ended up calling at the same time. I allowed them to talk, contributing when I felt like it.”

Beyond that, none of the family got anything out of Mr. Bennet. This was not to Mrs. Bennet's liking. Over twenty-three years of knowing her brother-in-law had been insufficient to make her understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous. Her sister-in-law's kindness lessened that feeling, but being a widow had never sat well with the former Frances Gardiner. The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and news.

Despite her faults, Mrs. Bennet was loyal to a fault when she saw a threat to her family. Thus, within a year of marriage, Edward had confided in her about Anne's true origins and why she was hiding. The tales of the Marquis's vicious deeds was sufficient to ensure her silence to everyone, including her brother in London and her sister in Meryton, and made her less upset about Anne taking over as Mistress of Longbourn. They addressed each other by given names, though Mrs. Bennet would have enjoyed being able to say that she was a sister to an earl's daughter.

But Mrs. Bennet's business of getting her daughters married was far from finished; three years ago her eldest had married Sir William Lucas' eldest, who worked with Mr. Gardiner, Mrs. Bennet's brother. The next eldest married young Mr. Goulding last year. Given Mrs. Bennet's own fortune, only four thousand pounds, she had nothing to complain about; the matches were entirely respectable, the young men had excellent character, and her girls were happy. But she had high hopes for seeing the rest of her girls – particularly Lydia, her favorite child and the one most like her in nature – married even better.

And Mrs. Bennet was equally keen to see her nieces well-matched; as the granddaughters of an earl they ought to do very well with their beauty, though the knowledge was still secret for good cause. However, she intended to do what she could to advance her nieces' chances for good matches. Fortunately for the girls, Lady Anne's guidance prevented a good deal of embarrassment.

Better knowledge of Mr. Bingley came from Lady Lucas' visit the next day. Sir William had been delighted with the young man. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively hopes of Mr Bingley's heart were entertained by many in the neighborhood.

“If I can but see one of my daughters or nieces happily settled at Netherfield,” said Mrs. Bennet to her sister and Lady Anne after a visit from Lady Lucas, “and all the others equally well married, I shall have nothing to wish for.”

Lady Anne gently pressed her husband for his real opinion of Mr. Bingley in private; she desired to know whether the man might be of acceptable character for any of the girls. Mr. Bennet acknowledged to a wish that the ladies of the house would be disappointed with Mr. Bingley once they met him, but that was his wit speaking; he assured his wife that he found nothing to suggest an objectionable nature. The eagerness to please was perhaps cause for concern, but they would only know when they saw how he behaved with his friends.

In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet's visit, and sat about ten minutes with him in his library. He had entertained hopes of being admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had heard much; but he saw only the father. The young ladies, and their mothers, were somewhat more fortunate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining from an upper window that he wore a blue coat, and rode a black horse. When the youngest girls went to Meryton to visit the home of the Phillips, Mrs. Bennet's sister and brother-in-law, they also learned that he had over forty servants.

An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and already had Mrs. Bennet suggesting plans for the courses that would do credit to the housekeeping of both Lady Anne and herself, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley was obliged to be in town the following day, and, consequently, unable to accept the honor of their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite disconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in town so soon after his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that he might always be flying about from one place to another, and never settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears a little by starting the idea of his being gone to London only to get a large party for the ball, and Lady Anne encouraged the idea to calm her sister.

Reports soon followed, that Mr. Bingley was to bring six ladies and four gentlemen; another, from Lydia's most recent walk to Meryton, of twelve ladies and seven gentlemen. Many girls grieved over such a number of ladies; Georgiana, however, viewed it with some relief as it would be impossible for her to be singled out. She had inherited her mother's natural shyness, and living in such a noisy household made it more pronounced at times. The gentle encouragement of her parents and sisters (for her brothers did not mind; it meant that she remained innocent in the world, and nothing made the Bennet sons more anxious than suitors for their sisters) lessened it, but she preferred quiet nights at home, like her father.

However, she and her cousin Lydia came out at a ball at Longbourn before Mr. Bingley's first visit to Hertfordshire, so she could not hide at home anymore. Her cousin held very different views on the matter; she loved dancing and was naturally more than outgoing, which meant that her uncle and male cousins had their work cut out for them.

The grief over the ladies in Mr. Bingley's party was comforted the day before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he had brought only six with him – five sisters and a cousin. And when the party entered the assembly room, making a grand entrance as they were late, it only consisted of five altogether – Mr. Bingley, two of his sisters, the husband of the eldest, and another young man.

The Bennet family's opinions on the party largely matched those of the rest of the assembly. Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. Mrs. Bennet was delighted with him. Lady Anne would have been as well, if not for a slight chill that made her decide to stay at home. Mr. Bennet stayed with her, despite that it meant leaving his sister-in-law as the girls' companion; he simply did not like leaving her with only the servants to care for her, even if their housekeeper, Mrs. Hill, was a dependable woman who looked after the health of both Mrs. Bennet and Lady Anne.

Mr. Bingley's sisters were fine women, with an air of decided fashion. They listened with a tight politeness to Sir William's cheerful exuberance, and while they preferred to talk only among their party, they danced with some of the wealthier local men and would talk with others if they happened to be near. Mrs. Bennet was also delighted with them, but the majority of the girls, after having the opportunity of watching them, found them to be a bit too proud for their taste.

Mr. Bingley's brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely looked the gentleman. A stout man who clearly enjoyed a good wine and good food, he hardly talked and what little of it was largely compliments on the finer items available. However. Mary and Felicia, the middle girls of the two Bennet families, both thought they observed a carefully hidden intelligence in the man, and a chance conversation about the merits of various card games told them that he would be an interesting conversationalist if he would but exert himself.

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 for about half of the evening, till his manners gave a disgust which turned the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud; to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all his large estate in Derbyshire – or the knowledge that he was the grandson of a duke – could save him from having a most forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared with his friend.

Mr. Bingley soon made himself acquainted with all the principal people in the room; he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance, was angry that ball closed so early, and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! Mr. Darcy danced only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party. His character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there again. Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his general behavior was sharpened into particular resentment by his ignoring her daughters and having slighted one of her nieces.

Elizabeth 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 in.

“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. Come, you had much better dance.”

“I certainly shall not. You know how much 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 with whom it be not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”

“I would not be as fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon my honor, I have 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, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”

“Which do you mean?” Having heard that his friend's current partner had four sisters and three cousins present, his question was not uncalled for, 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; I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”

Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth remained with no very cordial feelings towards him. She told the story, however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous, and that was part of why her father was so fond of her.

The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs. Bennet had seen her eldest niece much admired by the Netherfield party. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, and she had been distinguished by his sisters. Jane was as much gratified by this as her aunt could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth and her sisters felt Jane's pleasure, as did Charis and Rose. Lydia thought only of how she had never been without a a partner the whole night, which was all she had learned to care about at a ball. Mary heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most accomplished girl in the neighborhood, a praise well-earned by her mother's lessons; Catherine and Georgiana sat to the side much of the night talking with Maria Lucas, a situation that suited them all as they were each avoiding a young local man (not the same man, I assure you).

The whole family therefore returned to Longbourn in good spirits. Mr. Bennet and Lady Anne were awake, each with a book, in the sitting room. Mr. Bennet felt it was too much to hope that his sister-in-law would be disappointed in Mr. Bingley, and Lady Anne expected to hear about all sorts of fashion details. Neither was surprised by the story Mrs. Bennet launched into. Fortunately for them, Fanny Bennet had learned to spare Mr. Bennet from stories of lace and dancing, to save them for Anne separately. But the excitement of the evening was too much to save for the morrow.

“Oh, my dear brother and sister!” cried Mrs. Bennet as she led the girls into the room, “we have had the most delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been there, Anne. Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well she looked, as usual, and Mr. Bingley singled her out by dancing two sets with her. He danced with almost all the girls, but clearly liked Jane the best. Mr. Bingley is simply the most amiable man I have ever seen, and am I quite delighted with him. He is so excessively handsome! And his sisters are charming women, so elegant and obliging.”

“As neither of us have met them yet,” Anne commented, “we shall take your word for it.” However, she noticed the expressions on Elizabeth, Catherine, and Georgiana's faces suggested the truth about Mr. Bingley's sisters was otherwise.

As delightful as the evening had been, the one sore spot could not be suppressed by Mrs. Bennet for long. “But the man he brought with him, the one not married to one of his sisters, is not worth our concern! Though he may be the richest man in Derbyshire and be a grandson of a duke,” she cried bitterly.

“Derbyshire?” The name caught Anne's attention, and Mr. Bennet put down his book. “What is his name?”

“Mr. Darcy. We all thought him handsomer than Mr. Bingley until he proved to be the proudest, the most horrid, disobliging – he slighted Lizzy, and flatly refused to stand up with her!” she declared as she sat in her customary chair.

The news alarmed Mr. Bennet and Lady Anne, but they were careful to conceal it. Neither trusted themselves to be keep their shock out of their voices if they spoke. Fortunately, none of their family was looking at them, and so they were listening to Mrs. Bennet's version of the evening or were resting, in the case of Lydia. “But I can assure you,” she added, “that Lizzy does lose anything by not suiting his fancy. He is not at all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there was no enduring him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very great! Not handsome enough to tempt me, those were his words. I wish you had been there, brother, to give him one of your set-downs!”

Mr. Bennet finally gathered himself internally so that he could look at the younger of his middle children. “Slighted you, did he,” asked he in a quiet tone.

Elizabeth smiled, her nature incapable of being kept down for long. “I did not care for him either, Father, so it is of little matter.”

Wanting the conversation moved to another subject, Lady Anne asked the other girls for their perceptions of the evening; they were pleased with the stories from all but Rose and Lydia. Rose had a tendency to follow wherever Lydia led, and the extreme pleasure the latter took from insisting on dancing every set told Mr. Bennet that he had to be more strict on her at all future balls.

After assuring the children of her health, Lady Anne allowed her husband to guide her to their room. He rejoined her after they had separately changed into their sleeping attire, and she was sitting on her side of the bed pensively. Mr. Bennet sought to reassure her. “Anne, we had no way of knowing how George's son would turn out. But your brother assured me that Fitzwilliam Darcy is a good man.”

“But,” protested Anne, softly, “George always treated everyone well, even if they did not deserve it. How could his son be so different?”

“We shall have to judge him for ourselves when we meet him. Surely there will be a dinner or a party soon that will provide enough opportunities to observe what sort of man he really is.” His gentle words were enough to soothe his beloved wife to seek sleep, although he shared her concern over the behavior; it could mean unpleasant things about his character, although Mr. Bennet highly doubted that given how well he had known George Darcy, yet he could not say with certainty until he met the young man.

CHAPTER FOUR

Posted on Wednesday, 2 August 2006

The next morning, Lady Anne met with her daughters before breakfast. Felicia had joined them, but her mother and sisters were still abed. Mr. Bennet was finishing correspondence he had put off long enough, so the ladies were alone. Jane, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley in front of her father and aunt (not to mention her cousin Lydia), expressed to her family present how very much she admired him.

“He is just what a young man ought to be,” said she, face lighting from the remembered pleasure of the evening, “sensible, good-humored, lively; and I never saw such happy manners! – so much ease, with such perfect good breeding!”

Such a declaration brought a smile to the faces of her family. Lady Anne's pleasure was tempered by not knowing the man, but she trusted that the six young ladies present, if in general agreement on the young man's character, could be considered reliable sources.

“He is also handsome,” replied Lizzy, having determined an excellent opportunity to gently tease her sister; “which a young man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is therefore complete.”

“Lizzy,” her mother admonished, half-heartedly as her youngest two laughed at their vivacious sister's words and expression; “we shall see if he lives up to your first impressions. We none of us ought to make any assumptions yet; my sister Bennet may have that to herself,” she allowed, meaning it with all the affection she holds for her trying sister-in-law.

Jane's face colored, but her smile remained. “I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did not expect such a compliment.”

Her youngest sisters exclaim in protest. “Did not you?” Catherine, the more outgoing of the two, continued with a teasing smile: “We did for you. But that is the greatest difference between you and any of the rest of us. Compliments always take you by surprise, and us never. Of course, next to you, the rest of us hardly receive any compliments at all.”

“Kitty!” Jane's chide was tempered by her laughter and blush.

Lizzy smiled, patting her elder sister's hand. “What could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help seeing that you were almost five times as pretty as every other woman in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many stupider a person.”

The laughter and smiles left Jane blushing too much for a response, thus her mother – sitting next to her – put an arm around her daughter's shoulders. “Dearest Jane, you are great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general. You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes. I cannot remember you ever speaking ill of a human being.” Lady Anne does remember Jane scolding one of Sir Thomas Bertram's dogs once for chewing on Kitty's doll, and that all the times Jane has spoken ill of animals behaving poorly.

“I would wish not to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak what I think.”

“We know you do,” responded Mary in a mixture of properness and sisterly affection that was uniquely hers; “and it is that which we all must marvel at. With such good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others? Affection of candor is far too common to remark upon. But to be candid without ostentation or design – to take the good of everybody's character and make it still better, and say nothing of the bad – belongs to you alone. All our friends have said so, in varying ways.”

Jane felt less uncomfortable after that speech, and her cheeks regained their normal appearance. Felicia, having decided that they have digressed, chose to inquire about Mr. Bingley's family. “And so you like this man's sisters, too? You must have seen that their manners are very different from his, not at all equal.”

“Certainly not – at first. But 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 charming neighbor in her.”

Lady Anne could tell, from the silence in the room rather than by looking at her girls, that none of the other young ladies agreed with that sentiment; as she had walked down, Kitty and Georgiana had given her their impressions of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Their behavior at the assembly had seemed to not be calculated to please in general, and they had only paid attention to Jane – and a little to Mrs. Bennet, when she had been introduced. The lady of the house, hearing the rest of the family coming down from their rest, decided to reserve judgment until she met the ladies.

The Bingley sisters were in fact very fine ladies; not deficient in good humor when they were pleased, nor in the power of being agreeable when 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.

A marked difference existed between them and their other three sisters, all of whom were occupied with their own houses and families. The elder two were each married to respectable attorneys in town, and the younger to a gentleman of four thousand a year and a nice estate in Essex. Had Elizabeth met them, she would have liked them immediately, and wondered how they and their brother could have come from the same parents as the two sisters she met the previous evening.

The story of Mr. Bingley's wealth was well-known by then to the Bennet family, and all expected that a man seeking to fully become part of the gentry would purchase an estate of his own. None in the neighborhood thought poorly of the Bingley family for where their fortune came from; indeed, all thought that Mr. Bingley was a welcome addition to the gentry and would be delighted to have him join their families.

As the assembly went late into the night, no talk of the events occurred until breakfast at Netherfield. Bingley was finishing the contents of his plate, Darcy stood by the window have already finished, when the Hursts and Miss Bingley joined them. Miss Bingley, as she gathered food from the serving dishes before her, remarked to the man examining the weather, “And so none of the Hertfordshire ladies could please you, Mr. Darcy? Not even the famous Miss Bennets?” The slightest hint of triumph flitted into her voice, satisfied that she had no competition for his attention.

No response was given, and Bingley felt the need to comment, having kept his opinions to himself thus far out of respect for how tired his sisters had seemed. “Well, I have never met with more pleasant people or prettier girls in my life. How delightful it is when there is no formality, no stiffness to impede conversation; I feel that I made the acquaintance of all the room. And Miss Bennet! I cannot conceive an angel more beautiful.”

“Bingley,” said his friend, dryly, “you astonish me. I saw a collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no breeding at all.” He left it unsaid that there were none who he could feel the slightest interest toward, preferring to speak little. “The eldest Miss Bennet is, I grant you, very pretty, but she smiles too much.”

“Oh, Jane Bennet is a sweet girl,” said Mrs. Hurst, almost kindly, “one whom we should not object to knowing better.”

Wishing to hear wit on the other members of the Bennet family, Miss Bingley commented, “I heard Eliza Bennet described as a famous local beauty. What do you say to that, Mr. Darcy?”

Cringing at the memory of Mrs. Bennet's shrill voice, he had only this to say: “She a beauty? I should as soon call her aunt a wit.”

Both ladies laughed heartily at the cut, Hurst paid little heed, and Bingley shook his head. “Darcy,” exclaimed he, standing as he had at last finished, “I shall never understand how you can go through the world determined to be displeased with everything and everyone in it.”

“And I,” answered his friend dryly, “shall never understand why you are in a rage to approve of everything and everyone that you meet.”

The friendship between Bingley and Darcy was perhaps best described as being drawn to one's polar opposite in behavior. While not deficient in understanding or character, Bingley deferred to Darcy's judgment more than to his own. But feeling authorized by the earlier commendations of Miss Bennet to think of her as he chose, Bingley could not help but observe to his friend, “You have not met Mr. Bennet yet. Now there is a man whose company even you might enjoy.”

“He remained at home to care for his wife and youngest son,” commented Miss Bingley; “which was absolutely unnecessary. He had servants to see to their health. Such behavior is not becoming of a gentleman.”

“It shows a strong affection for his family, especially of his wife, that is very singular,” declared her brother, “and which ought to be done more frequently.” The challenge in his eyes was such that his family could not remember ever seeing from him, and the surprise kept them silent. His friend was silent for another reason; while he saw a sort of fondness between his parents, he had sensed that love did not exist between them. His father, on his deathbed, had urged him to not marry without respect, admiration, and love; such things, the old man had told him, ensure a domestic peace that must always be beyond any measurable price. His mother, a good-hearted woman, had nonetheless encouraged him to look for a wife who would do the Darcy and - names credit. The rest of his mother's family clearly assumed that meant a wife from the Ton, but Darcy himself held strong doubts about being able to fulfill the wishes of both parents. One day, he fully expected to have to make a match; but it would not be to any of his family, as that would not add anything to the Darcy line that did not already exist. If not for Miss Bingley's unceasing flattery, and her sharpness towards servants and the unfortunate, he might have married her to be done with it. His younger sister might benefit from learning how to keep undeserving suitors at bay.

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 had risen to the honor 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 with 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 everybody. 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 neighbor to Mrs. Bennet yet clever enough to be a good conversation companion to Lady Anne. Lady Lucas was the proud mother of several children herself, three sons and four daughters.

The presence of the daughters might have made Mrs. Bennet and Lady Lucas rivals except for two intermarriages in the younger generation. Six years ago, Lady Anne's second eldest son wed Lady Lucas's eldest daughter; the children were both just come of age, and, although Mr. Andrew was still starting out as part of his “uncle” Gardener's business, the match was seen advantageously by all. Charlotte Lucas was already an intimate friend of the eldest Bennet girls, and they delighted in calling her their sister; she had not been considered a beauty before marriage, but over six years of being in love with her husband and giving him tokens of her affection had brought a glow to her cheeks that rendered her looks into being declared pretty. Her husband, of course, considered her everything charming and beautiful, which made Charlotte the envy of many young ladies of Hertfordshire as Andrew was universally declared quite handsome. That union had been enough to ensure a truce between the houses, but upon the marriage of Julia Bennet to William Lucas, the ladies reached an understanding; as any match any child made would benefit all the others, each lady would forward any suitable matches for any of the children.

That the ladies of both families should meet to talk over a ball was absolutely necessary; and following breakfast the morning after the assembly brought the entire Lucas family (present at Lucas Lodge) to Longbourn to hear and to communicate. They were met by visitors from Hyde Park, the two Mrs. Gouldings. Mrs. Goulding was considered the most sensible mother in Hertfordshire, after Mrs. Thomas Bennet, and she was a favorite friend of that lady. As soon as all greetings were exchanged, the youngest children accompanied the youngest Bennet to the nursery, except for the young Goulding, who remained in her mother's arms; the young ladies sat amongst themselves talking while the matrons filled Lady Anne's ears with details of the event.

After a long conversation over tea, the groups began to merge their discussions. “You began the evening well, Maria,” said Mrs. Bennet with civil self-command and generosity to the current Miss Lucas. “You were Mr. Bingley's first choice.”

“Yes,” acknowledged the young lady with a shy smile, which quickly turned rueful; “but he seemed to like his second better.”

“As she was the only one he danced with twice,” remarked Mrs. Goulding, “that is hardly surprising.”

“To be sure,” added Mrs. Bennet, “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.”

Jane did everything she could to ignore the talk of how much Mr. Bingley had vocally admired her. Her attention was fixed on the conversation with her cousin about little Miss Elise Goulding's awareness of the world; yet none in her group could ignore hearing that Mr. Bingley had declared Jane the handsomest woman in the room, or Mrs. Bennet's pleasure over the news. Her mother's reaction was more subdued, but pleased nonetheless.

However, the conversation among the older ladies quickly turned to Mr. Darcy's slight of Lizzy. Lady Anne, not wishing to believe the worst of her former favorite's son, put a prompt end to the talk, commenting that the rich might be proud because of their status, they might seem aloof because so many court their favor and they do not wish to give encouragement too soon. Especially when surrounded by talkative people they knew not. This eventually satisfied the ladies; the Miss Bennets, however, correctly saw this as preventing Lizzy from venting further about Mr. Darcy. She could not understand why her mother would deny her the pleasure of laughing at the man.

The ladies continued in this manner, talking of other aspects of the assembly and of other gatherings where Jane and Mr. Bingley would meet, until Mr. Bennet and Sir William came out of their meeting. After calling the children down, the families bid each other good day. Mr. Bennet then took his youngest into his study for a lesson in financial management.

After Georgiana's birth, all members of her family assumed she would be the youngest Bennet (as she was younger than her cousin Lydia); yet five years later, Lady Anne and Mr. Bennet were shocked by the arrival of one more child: Timothy. Now having five sons to protect the estate from entailment, Mr. Bennet found his sister-in-law much happier, only surpassed when his first grandsons came into the world. Timothy provided endless joy and vexation to the occupants of Longbourn; his intelligence and good-humor made him the darling of all, but his mischievous side put him in frequent trouble. A fervent desire to learn about everything being a gentleman entailed allowed him leeway with his parents, although they knew when to say “no” to him.

Being the only son at home, Timothy was a further comfort to his father; surrounded by women, including some prone to gossip, did little for the well-being of Mr. Bennet. As much as he loved his wife, daughters, and nieces, one needed a male to be around; the opportunities involved in Timothy's education kept Mr. Bennet busy when not attending to estate or other family matters.

CHAPTER FIVE

The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit was soon returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew on the goodwill of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the aunt was intolerable, and the young sisters and cousins not worth speaking to, a wish of being better acquainted with them was expressed towards the two eldest and their mother. By Jane, this attention was received with the greatest pleasure' but Lady Anne saw the same supercilious behavior that Lizzy and her sisters observed at the assembly. The ladies of Longbourn (save Jane and Mrs. Bennet) suspected this treatment of Jane stemmed from Mr. Bingley's admiration.

A fortnight later, it was generally evident that he did admire her; and to her family, it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference which had begun to entertain from the first, and was in a way to be very much in love. Lizzy 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.

Lady Anne was relieved that her daughters knew better than to immediately make their feelings known; Lydia needed lessons in that respect, and only controlled her expressions when her uncle threatened to keep her at home. But Lady Anne did worry about whether Jane was perhaps too guarded with her feelings.

“It may perhaps be pleasant,” replied she to her daughter's observation, the morning after a party at Hyde Park, “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 leave him insecure and unwilling to continue paying his attentions to her, 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 of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. At least, those of us with the intelligence and manners to be desired as a partner in life; there are those who will form attachments without any encouragement from the object. But, Lizzy, Mr. Bingley likes Jane undoubtedly; yet he may never do more than like her, if she does not encourage him.”

“But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If I can perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not to discover it too.”

Her mother smiles at her daughter's confidence. “First, Lizzy, he does not know Jane's disposition as well as you or I do. Second, and far more important, your assertion gives men in general more credit for perceptiveness than is perhaps deserved.”

“But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavor to conceal it, he must find out.”

“Perhaps, if he sees enough of her. But, though Bingley and Jane meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours; and as they always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that every moment can be employed in conversing together.”

Here Lizzy shook her head and laughed hard enough that her mother felt obliged to stop. “You sound like Charlotte before she married Andrew. I can hear what she would have said. '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 chooses.'”

Lady Anne could not help but laugh. The words brought to mind several debates between the young ladies about whether a woman should secure a man before she is sure of her own regard or his character.

“I would reply,” continued Lizzy, “'Your plan is a good one where nothing is in question but the desire of being well-married; and if I were determined to get a rich husband, or and husband, I dare say I should adopt it. But these are not Jane's feelings; she is not acting by any design. As yet, she cannot even be certain of the degree of her regard or its own reasonableness. She has known him only several days. 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.'”

All the reasoning, admitted her mother silently, was everything good.

“Charlotte would then answer, 'Not as you represent it. Had she merely dined with him, she might only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must remember that four evening have been also spent together – and four evenings may do a great deal.' My response would be, '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.' And I can perfectly hear what would follow: 'Well, I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if she were married to him tomorrow, 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 beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.'”

Lady Anne laughed. She indeed could hear such words coming from Charlotte years ago.

“And my final response: '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.'”

“You do not remember what she was like six years ago,” chided her mother, “because marriage has mollified Charlotte's feelings on the matter, making her more disposed to urge the woman to seek happiness. What you have forgotten is how Charlotte was considered plain, undesirable. It is no wonder that she felt so compelled by such beliefs. Only once Andrew became a suitor did she see flaws in her reasoning; but mostly because an argument between her and Andrew taught her that a woman should not lie about or exaggerate her feelings. His own convictions came from what your father and I taught him; marriage ought to be a union of the minds and the hearts. The way most consider it is as a business dealing, which I find deplorable. Now, you cannot ignore matters of the pocketbook, and a girl is foolish to marry a man who cannot provide enough for her and a few children.”

“And few will marry a girl with hardly anything to her name besides her charms.”

“Yes, Lizzy, I am aware of what our circumstances are. And yet your brothers have managed to make names for themselves, and are able to provide for families on their own. Your father's friends will do much to forward your prospects and those of your sisters. But we have digressed completely; the biggest lesson Charlotte learned is that a woman should let a man know she likes him, in a way that does not make her look flirtatious. It is acceptable to put your feelings on public display, if they are fully reciprocated.”

Lizzy was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had a t first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her only to criticize. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, then 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 that of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly unaware; to her he was only the man who made himself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with.

He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so first drew the attention of her parents at Lucas Lodge, when she stood in a group with Colonel Forster, the commanding officer of the ----- militia currently stationed in Meryton. It had not escaped his attention that the man was paying more attention to Miss Felicia Bennet than any other lady there, or that Captain Carter, who appeared to be the colonel's right hand, seemed to favor Miss Rose Bennet, who seemed on better behavior ever since the assembly. The object of his own interest was standing with the Colonel, Captain, her two cousins, her parents, her aunt, and Lady Lucas as she began teasing the Colonel, “Are you here to subdue the discontented populace, sir, or do you defend Hertfordshire against the French?”

Questions he had never heard come from a woman before. To his amazement, the Colonel merely chuckled. “Neither, Madam, I trust. We hope to winter very peacefully here in Meryton. My soldiers are great need of training, and my officers in ever great need of society.”

This produced smiles on all the ladies, and a frown from Mr. Bennet. “Then as soon as you are settled,” suggested a smiling Lizzy, “I hope you will have a ball.”

Mr Darcy listened with growing disbelief at how well-mannered Miss Bennet's cousins could be; even the youngest, while clearly enthusiastic over the presence of the officers, was holding back out of an obvious fear of her uncle banning her from all parties. He found himself impressed by how the Colonel was teased, in a good-natured way, into an agreement to the beginning suggestion. But, as the group separated, only Elizabeth Bennet and Lady Lucas remained, and his presence drew both ladies' attention. “What does Mr. Darcy mean,” whispered Lizzy, “by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?”

“That is a question which only Mr. Darcy can answer.” Still overhearing, Mr. Darcy considered the intelligence of Lady Lucas and wondered why she married Sir William. What he did not notice was the attention the Bennets were paying to him, the curiosity sparked by his observing their daughter.

“But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I see what he is about.” He felt alarmed until she continued, “He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him.”

Lady Lucas immediately, yet with a smile, rebuked her for such a statement. “I know you are not afraid of anyone. Get it over with.” She had another reason for urging conversation between her daughter's sister and Mr. Darcy; she wondered if the man might be regretting his earlier criticism of Lizzy, and she knew her one daughter of age could not handle him. So Elizabeth was the only girl Lady Lucas knew who could possibly be matched with him.

Sighing, Lizzy turned to face Mr Darcy, who happened to be close enough for conversation, and said, “Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?”

“With great energy; but it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic.”

“You are severe on us.”

Displeased with the direction the conversation was rapidly heading, Lady Lucas chose to interrupt. “It is time to open the pianoforte, Eliza, and you know what follows.”

“You are just like your eldest daughter, a very strange creature by way of a friend! – always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you both would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers.” On Lady Lucas' persevering, she added, “Well, if it must be so, it must.” And gravely glancing at Mr. Darcy, “There is a fine saying, which everyone here is of course familiar with: 'Keep your breath to cool your porridge'; and I shall keep mine to swell my song.”

Her performance was pleasing, though Mr. Darcy could hear that she did not practice as much as her talent would demand. Yet he felt a great deal of pleasure in listening to her play. It was strengthened when her sister Mary and cousin Felicia joined her at the pianoforte and the harp, respectively, while she sang. Her playing and singing was easy and unaffected. Her cousins were more technically proficient and were equally unaffected, but it was Lizzy's performance that remained with Mr. Darcy for the rest of the evening. Although his mood was soured when the younger ladies pressed for Scotch of Irish airs, and then some of the children (there because it was an informal evening) eagerly joined three officers and the same number of young ladies in dancing. The number included Lydia, Rose, and Catherine Bennet, the later having been asked by an agreeable officer.

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 thoughts that he did not notice Mr. Bennet and his young son were his neighbors until they spoke. Their motivation was finding someone else who seemed trapped by obligation as well. This drew Mr. Darcy into the first truly enjoyable conversation of the entire evening, and the exuberance of the lad amused him enough to produce several smiles from the reminder of his own childhood. Timothy Bennet was so unpretentious because of his age that his words were largely unguarded, and he made a number of observations of how long ago Mr. Darcy had been that age. At the first evening after the assembly, he was introduced to the master and mistress of Longbourn; the experience had demonstrated that there were some in the country who he need not feel uncomfortable talking with; although he felt that they should have been born in higher status than they were, especially the lady. Yet there was something about Mrs. Bennet, Sr., that would not settle.

The three were so engaged in their conversation that none noticed Sir William approach until he spoke. “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 finest refinements of polished societies.”

“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage of also being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.”

“Are you speaking of places outside England,” asked Timothy, feeling a hint of an affront, “or of Hertfordshire?”

Having enjoyed the lad's unhindered joy with life and regretting the swift passage of the state from his own life, Mr. Darcy was obliged to defend himself. “I had no thought of England at all, I assure you.” Mr. Bennet's amused expression suggested that he suspected the young man was thinking of the country-side, but given the behavior of some of the officers, he was inclined to forgive him.

Sir William only smiled. “Your friend performs delightfully,” he continued after a pause, on seeing Mr. Bingley join the group; “and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy.”

“You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir.”

“Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight, Do you often dance at St. James's?”

“Never, sir.”

“Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?”

“It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it.”

Mr. Bennet laughed. “Spoken like a man who has endured too many overzealous partners.” His remark was answered by a startled expression.

Sir William chose to not continue that thought. “You have a house in town, I conclude?”

Mr. Darcy bowed.

“I had 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 Mr. Darcy was not disposed to make any. Timothy felt otherwise. “Well, at least you can visit Andrew and Charlotte in town.”

Before Sir William could express his delight over that match, Lizzy was at that instant moving towards them; he was struck with the action of doing a very gallant thing, and called to her: “My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady as a very desirable partner. You refuse to dance, I am sure, when such 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 have moved this way in order to beg for a partner.”

Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested the honor of her hand, but in vain. Lizzy 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 Lizzy, smiling. Her father saw her true reason for refusing to dance: she had no wish to be stuck with the man who slighted her. He considered suggesting that she give the young man a chance, but he supposed she would insist on an apology first, and a party was hardly the place for it. Her brother heard the story, but liked Mr. Darcy; so he was bewildered by the sight before him.

Sir William had one last effort to make. “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?”

Lizzy looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some complacency. Her father guided Sir William away to relieve the gentleman from further comments, but her brother drifted only slightly away; close enough to overhear Mis Bingley accost Mr. Darcy. Their topic captured the lad's interest, but he made sure to avoid their detection.

He saved the news for breakfast the next morning, delighted at the anticipation of being the one to deliver unexpected news. He began thus as the family seated themselves: “Mama, Papa, you shall never guess what Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy said last night!”

“Timothy,” scolded his mother, “have you been eavesdropping again?”

“Well, I could not help it. They were right by me, and paid me no heed. Besides, I had to know what they really think of us, and they did not disappoint.”

Mr. Bennet held up his hand to silence his wife, the girls, and his sister-in-law. “We shall withhold judgment until he has spoken.” His tone suggested that some discipline might be in store; when no response came, he nodded permission for Timothy to proceed with his tale.

“Well, Miss Bingley came up behind him, and said, 'I can guess the subject of your reverie.' He answered that he imagined not. She smiled like a cat does at a mouse, and continued, 'You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass so 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 those people! What I would give to hear your strictures on them!'”

His impression of the lady was frighteningly accurate; but the words provoked a protest from Jane. “Timmy, I am sure that you misheard! Miss Bingley has been everything considerate and kind!”

“Jane,” interrupted her mother, “I know you wish to think well of everyone; however, I have observed in Mr Bingley's sisters a tendency to think well of themselves and meanly of others. I have watched them at the various times we have been in their company, and I find their kind treatment of you inconsistent with their manners towards others. I must therefore insist that you guard yourself, and prepared to see them betray themselves.” Her tone was gentle, but forceful enough to ensure Jane's silence; then Lady Anne turned to her son: “Go on, then.”

“Mr. Darcy surprised me by saying, '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 on the face of a pretty woman can bestow.' Miss Bingley fixed her eyes on his face, though he would not look at her, and demanded to know what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections, clearly thinking she would be the lady. He told her, she repeated the name in shock, and tried cheering herself from disappointment by teasing him: 'I am all astonishment. How long has she been a favorite? - and pray, when am I to wish you joy?' His response was, '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.'”

“He is correct,” observed Mr. Bennet, “for I have seen many examples. But do tell us what else was said, Timothy.”

“Thank you, father. The last thing I heard was Miss Bingley saying, 'Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter is absolutely settled. You will have a very charming aunt-in-law, indeed; and, of course, she will be always at Pemberley with you.' But I must say, Mr. Darcy seemed indifferent to her musings.”

“Well,” declared Lizzy, “I am not surprised by any of this. He has such a satirical eye that I do not wonder at his saying things to make her uneasy.”

“Lizzy,” admonished her mother, hoping that the behavior could be explained by all the ladies of the ton, “this is enough.” Her daughter was so surprised at being chided that she was speechless.

“Timmy,” squealed Lydia, “you must tell us which lady he named. It must have been one of the Hertfordshire ladies. What a fine joke it would be if it were me; I should have to disappoint him! After all, officers are so much more interesting than stuffy gentlemen.”

“He said, and I quote: 'Miss Elizabeth Bennet.'”

The silence consumed the room. Lizzy colored, her mouth parted in shock. The rest of the family was only a little less surprised. Jane was the first to recover. “Fine eyes... Well, not that anyone's admiring you, Lizzy, is astonishing, but his words at the assembly-”

Mrs. Bennet found her voice, much to the dismay of Lizzy. “Oh, what fine revenge for his slight! He must be sorry he said it, having watched you all this time! He now sees what he missed, and might just be worth our notice after all. What a clever girl you are, Lizzy!”

“Aunt! I have no intention of being the wife of someone so proud!”

“But, Lizzy,” came the soft protest of Georgiana, “perhaps he was in ill humor. If Miss Bingley is constantly paying him attention, then perhaps he was avoiding having to dance with her again; she might have demanded it has he danced with you, and perhaps he was telling Mr. Bingley something in code.”

“Enough,” shouted Mr. Bennet, sensing the mayhem about to break loose, “enough! Lizzy shall not be imposed with talk about Mr. Darcy; however, I must insist, my dear child, that you cease telling everyone how rude he was at the assembly. I knew his father, who was an excellent man, and I have found him a pleasing conversationalist when he troubles himself. I know you delight in human folly, but I believe you are taking this dislike too far.”

CHAPTER SIX

None of the family wished to displease Mr. Bennet, and few would have considered trying. Thus the conversation moved to news of friends. Lady Anne enlightened them on the news about Anne de Bourgh's health (leaving out the other news her sister had related), how the Dashwood ladies were faring at Barton Cottage, and the latest news from Mansfield when a footman entered with a note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the servant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly calling our, while her niece read:

“Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does it say? Make haste and tell us, my love.”

“It is from Miss Bingley,” said Jane, still disturbed by Timothy's disclosure, but she read it aloud.

”My Dear Friend, -
“If you are not so compassionate as to dine today with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day's tête-à-tête between two women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers. – Yours ever,
Caroline Bingley”

“With the officers!” cried Lydia. “I wonder my aunt did not tell us of that.”

“Dining out,” sighed Lady Anne, “that is unlucky, for you would only have two ladies whose motives the rest of us look at with suspicion.”

“I do not like the sound of her note,” ventured Georgiana cautiously, “for it sounds more like a command, or at least designed to play upon guilt.”

“I see what you refer to,” agreed Catherine. “What I object to is the idea that a day's tête-à-tête cannot end without a quarrel; if that is true, how is it possible that we are all still talking with each other?”

Deriving no pleasure from the turn of the conversation, Jane turned to her father. “May I have the carriage?”

“But, my dear,” interrupted Mrs. Bennet, “if you went on horseback, then you would have to stay the night; for it looks like rain, and it would not do to not see Mr. Bingley.”

“That would be a good scheme,” said Lizzy, finally recovered from Timothy's revelation, “if you were sure that they would not offer to send her home.”

'Oh! But the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley's chaise to go to Meryton; and the Hursts have no horses to theirs.”

“I had rather go in the coach,” insisted Jane softly.

“I am afraid, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, regretfully, “that the horses are already engaged for the farm today. We have not purchased enough horses to ensure that a carriage is available whenever we need it; but that is my fault for being so selective in horseflesh.”

Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her aunt attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a bad day. Neither Lady Anne nor Mr. Bennet could think of a way to silence her given their inability to give Jane another way there without offending the ladies she considered friends; they did, however, caution her to observe how they reacted to her method of arriving, and how they said everything. Mrs. Bennet's hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long before it rained hard. Her sisters, cousins, and mother were uneasy for her; her aunt was delighted; her brother and father believed she would survive, but her good opinion of Bingley's sisters might not. The rain continued the whole evening without intermission; Jane certainly could not come back.

“This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!” said Mrs. Bennet more than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Until Lady Anne gave her a tense look, which silenced all discussion – after Mrs. Bennet quietly protested, “I am only helping the courtship; Mr. Bingley needs to see more of her, and why should she go to Netherfield and not see him?” Till the next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield brought the following note for Lizzy:

”My Dearest Lizzy, -
“I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday despite being bundled. My friends will not hear of my returning home until I am better. They also insist on my seeing Mr. Jones – therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been to me – and, excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter with me. - Yours, etc.”

Mr. Bennet was tempted to make a sarcastic remark about if Jane should die, but he chose to not alarm his two youngest. Lady Anne disliked her daughter being there without male guardians, or any companion at all – the Bingley sisters did not count. Mrs. Bennet spoke with a restrained cheerfulness about Jane's recovery boding nothing but good for increasing Bingley's affection. Timothy merely looked at his aunt in confusion; his brothers spoke to him of how he would have to protect his sisters and nieces, so this made no sense at all. Her sisters and cousins tried to not be too concerned. But Lizzy, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though the carriage was not to be had still; and as she was no horsewoman, walking was her only alternative. She declared her resolution.

“How can you be so silly,” cried her aunt, “as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get there!” Thoughts of Mr. Darcy were at the forefront of her alarm.

“If any of them think less of her for doing so,” responded her mother, “then their good opinion was never worth having in the first place. She shall be fit to see Jane, which I am sure is all she wants. Shall we see you at dinner, or will you stay with Jane?”

“That will depend on Miss Bingley,” remarked Mr. Bennet, “and whether she can tolerate Lizzy's presence.”

The four youngest ladies accompanied Lizzy as far as Meryton, but then they parted with her; they were to visit the wives of some of the officers, and Lizzy continued her walk alone, with such impatient activity that she was glowing with the warmth of exercise by the time she arrived at Netherfield.

She was not surprised by the way she was received. Mr. Hurst took no notice of her at all; Mr. Bingley was everything one could hope for, and delighted that she had come for her sister; his sisters, while receiving her politely, very likely held her in contempt for her actions. Mr. Darcy said very little, which was expected; yet his expression was so enigmatic that she could not be sure he was not thinking about her eyes. She would not have known what to think if she knew that his torn thoughts included mediations on her eyes.

Jane was doing very poorly, but seemed calmer and more peaceful when Lizzy was shown to her; she expressed, with great difficulty, gratitude for her sister's presence once they were left alone. “I wish you had asked for me from the start,” was the response, “for you know we would want to ease your mind.” Otherwise, Lizzy silently attended her.

The apothecary came, and confirmed the suspicion of a violent cold; therefore, she was not to be moved until almost completely recovered. Aside from his visit and the providing for draughts, the Bingley sisters came frequently to visit. Lizzy briefly thought she could like them when she saw how much affection and solicitude they showed for Jane; but she observed a hint of a more guarded expression in Jane's eyes whenever they were there. Lizzy had felt she would have to leave by three, but Jane testified early to such concern in parting with her, obliging Miss Bingley to convert the offer of the chaise into an invitation to remain at Netherfield. Lizzy most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply of clothes.

Jane and Lizzy did not have a moment to themselves after the dispatching of the servant until five o'clock, when the ladies retired to dress. Lizzy had one and a half hours before being summoned to dinner, and she chose to finally ask why Jane seemed cautious towards those she had called friends.

“Oh, Lizzy,” moaned Jane through her headache, and disappointment, “Mama was right. There is a duplicity in Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. I saw it last night at dinner. A slight flicker of disdain over my appearance upon arrival, although they hid it well enough that I would not have noticed had Mama not warned me. But at dinner... I politely asked about their family, and seemed to get honest answers; then they started asking about mother and aunt's connections. Lizzy, they seemed almost wickedly gleeful upon hearing that mother has no connections to speak of and that our aunt has trade connections.”

“I am amazed at their reactions, given where their own fortunes came from.”

A coughing fit prevented conversation for several moments. When Jane finally settled again, she continued her story. “I felt it necessary to test them after they asked about Andrew and Edward's positions, and wives. They both froze when I told them that Edward is parson to Lady Catherine de Bourgh; they nearly dropped their utensils when I told them of Michael's impending marriage to Maria Bertram of Mansfield Park; but nothing compared to when I said that Michael's wife is the eldest daughter of Sir Walter Elliot, and that she is coming next week with her children and brother. They blanched, Lizzy! They blanched! We are country nobodies in their minds. They... were seeking to learn about any connections to use against us; for what, I do not want to think. Knowing that we have excellent connections alarmed them...”

Lizzy sighed, and turned her attention to soothing her sister's symptoms before dressing for dinner. She knew not what would comfort Jane; she hoped her mother would come on the morrow and help her with that.

Dinner was only made pleasant for Lizzy by Mr. Bingley's attentiveness and politeness. Mr. Hurst ignored her after learning she preferred a plain dish to a ragout, and the ladies were engrossed by Mr. Darcy; Lizzy was not sure, but she thought he tensed with every fawning gesture from Miss Bingley, and she began to feel a little sorry for the man.

When dinner was over, she told the room she would return directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. But, as there were no footmen outside the room, Lizzy decided to do what her brother had done the other night; after all, she might have better answers for Jane's worries. She heard her manners pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no taste, no beauty.

Mrs. Hurst clearly 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 across the country, because her sister has 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 you would not wish your sister to 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 show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum.”

“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said Bingley. “It shows that the family is tightly-knit, which I find most agreeable.”

“I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley, in a half whisper that Lizzy could barely hear, “that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.”

“Not at all,” he replied; “they were brightened by the exercise.”

A long pause followed this speech. Miss Bingley felt too alarmed by that declaration to speak; between it and the still-present shock over Miss Bennet's excellent connections, she felt unable to set down her “dear friend's” family any further. Her sister was silent for the same reason. Both ladies continued their meals.

Lizzy, meanwhile, was completely shocked. Upon the silence, she had the mindfulness to quickly and quietly repair to Jane's room before any servants noticed her presence by the dining-parlor door. She knew she had only a short while to recover her composure before the ladies would visit Jane again, and she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her uneasy. But the discovery! Timothy had not misheard; Mr. Darcy did admire her eyes! And considered her pretty, as well. “How,” she silently asked herself, “can this be? A man who slighted me, called me not handsome enough to tempt him, now finds me worth admiring from afar?”

Fortunately, Jane did not ask her sister about her unease; there would be plenty of time to ask later. The renewed tenderness of Mr. Bingley's sisters did not fool her any more than it had earlier in the day, but she received it with the same serene manners she bestowed on everyone; the only difference was her awareness of the real feelings of the ladies. They sat with Jane until summoned to coffee; Lizzy stayed with her, as she was doing poorly, until she was at last able to sleep. Despite not wishing to be near Mr. Darcy until she had sorted out her thoughts and feelings, and not desiring the company of anyone except Mr. Bingley, she nonetheless felt it right to go down. On entering the drawing room, she found the whole party at loo. She declined joining as to not be too near Mr. Darcy, and chose a book to entertain herself, making her sister the excuse for not staying down long. She was not surprised by Mr. Hurst's dismay that anyone preferred reading to cards, nor by Miss Bingley's contentions about her preferences and such. “I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,” she cried. “I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”

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

Lizzy thanked him from her heart, and selected a book from a nearby table. The ensuing conversation between Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and his faithful assistant about libraries and homes based on Pemberley soon captured her attention far more than the book; despite her resolution to avoid being near Mr. Darcy, she soon stood near the table (pretending to watch the game) as the talk moved to Miss Arabelle Darcy, the younger of his sisters and apparently about Lizzy's height. The comparison made Lizzy uncomfortable, but Miss Bingley more so; that lady quickly extolled Miss Darcy's virtues with such fervor that Lizzy could not help but wonder if Jane would soon be subjected to stories of the young lady. Miss Bingley's praise of Miss Darcy's accomplishments prompted her brother to make his own observation.

“I believe that all young ladies are accomplished in some way. They may sing, draw, dance, speak any number of additional languages, cover screens, net purses, paint tables, and any number of things I have no business knowing about as a man.”

Lizzy could not help laughing. “My brothers would agree on that last score completely,” said she; “and I am sure they think similarly on the other subject.”

Mr. Darcy proceeded to further injure himself in Lizzy's eyes by speaking of how easily ladies were considered accomplished, and commenting that he “cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.” Miss Bingley gave a full list of qualifications, most of which Lizzy was positive that she did not possess to the degree that she wanted Mr. Darcy to believe. But Mr. Darcy nearly silenced his assistant. “To all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”

“I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women, Mr. Darcy. I rather wonder at your knowing any; I never heard of such capacity, taste, application, and elegance united.”

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who answered this description (Lizzy did not miss the smile on Mr. Darcy's face over their contrary assertions, but was unsure what to make of it), when Mr. Hurst called them all on their attention to the game. Lizzy chose to leave for Jane.

“Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, when the door closed behind her, “is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it works. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.”

Not pleased over her continued insults, which ran contrary to many things he heard from the lady's parents, Mr. Darcy felt obliged to silence her. “Undoubtedly there is meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable.”

Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to continue the subject.

Lizzy joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones being sent for immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice could be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of most eminent physicians. This she would not hear of; but she was not so unwilling to comply with their brother's proposal; and it was settled that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sisters declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness, however, by duets after supper, while he could find no better relief than by giving his housekeeper directions that ever possible attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister.

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