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Chapter 9
Miss Bennet was so much improved the next day that Elizabeth began to hope they might leave Netherfield before much longer. If the truth be told, she was miserable at Netherfield. From no one except Bingley and Miss Darcy had she received the smallest attention or pleasure. At least, during her time at Netherfield she had acquired a new friend. Miss Georgiana Darcy, she had decided, was as lovely and sweet a girl as one could hope to find, once one penetrated her crippling shyness, a shyness all the more reasonable when one looked at her guardian. How such a young lady could be the ward of Mr. Darcy was unfathomable to her: he was silent and grave. In fact, Elizabeth could not but be offended at his manners. From some things he had said to her in previous social gatherings, she knew he could be agreeable when he chose it. She was not pleased that he seemed to often deem it unnecessary to please other people. It was as if he did not think the Hertfordshire society worth pleasing, and as a member of said society, she was insulted. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, for reasons unknown to Elizabeth, seemed to have taken an instant and strong dislike to her, and Mr. Hurst never gave his attention to anything except his dinner. Added to her wish for her sister's health, therefore, was the strong desire of retaining her own sanity.
That morning, Elizabeth determined to send her mother a note, requesting her to visit Jane and assess the situation. The reply to this note was Mrs. Bennet herself, Jonathan, and the two younger girls. Bingley and Darcy, really growing rather desperate for masculine society in such a large collection of women, welcomed Jonathan with alacrity; rather, Bingley with alacrity, Darcy with somewhat less reserve than usual.
Had Jane been in any danger, Mrs. Bennet would have been very miserable, but as it was evident that Jane was perfectly safe, Mrs. Bennet had no wish for her speedy recovery, and would not hear her daughter's wish to be taken home. Neither did the apothecary, who arrived at nearly the same time, think it at all advisable.
"Can't tell you how sorry I am that your sister has fallen ill at my house, Mr. Bennet," Bingley said as soon as the ladies had left the drawing room.
"No need to apologize!" Jonathan chuckled. "'Tis not your fault, surely."
"Perhaps not, but..."
"We should be the ones to apologize, I believe, for having imposed on your hospitality so long. And to tax your patience with Lizzy as well..."
"Impose! It is no imposition at all. Miss Elizabeth has been a most welcome addition, I assure you. We are all heartily fond of her."
Darcy turned to his friend with raised eyebrows, astonished at this falsehood. Certainly his friend could see that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were far from admiring Elizabeth Bennet. Bingley glanced at him, and frowned and shook his head ever so slightly at his expression. Mr. Bennet happened to look over and see Darcy's countenance before he could change it. A decided coolness came into Jonathan's manner at what he supposed a slight to his favourite sister.
"Enjoying your time in Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy?" Jonathan asked with more politeness than warmth.
Darcy did not immediately know what to say. He could not say he was enjoying himself, per se, but how could he say that without insulting the man farther? "A fine country," he finally replied.
Bingley gave him an impatient glance and turned again to his guest. "I've rarely been in so fine a place, Mr. Bennet," he said decidedly. "Couldn't imagine a better place to settle permanently once I'm sure of my bearings. The country itself, the society, the estate - all I could possibly have hoped for."
Jonathan laughed. "I sense you are easy to please."
"Oh, not as easy as you might think. Perhaps I might be easily led by my friends' suggestions, but when I find what I want I recognize it. And I think I might have found what I've been searching for right here in Hertfordshire." Something in his voice made both of the other men suspect that he was no longer talking about the estate. They were saved from an uneasy silence by the entrance of Mrs. Bennet, her daughters, and the ladies of the house.
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst sat on a sofa together with Miss Darcy nearby, and the three gentlemen stood near a window. Mr. Bingley immediately came forward with the hopes that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.
"Indeed I have, sir," was the reply. "She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness."
"But of course!" exclaimed Bingley. "My sister, I am sure, would not hear of her removal."
"Miss Bennet will receive every possible attention, ma'am, I assure you," Miss Bingley said.
"I am sure," Mrs. Bennet declared, "if it was not for such good friends I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is always the way with her, for she has without exception the sweetest temper I ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to her. Though of course," she said, suddenly addressing Miss Darcy, "I have seen a great deal of similarity between you and Jane, Miss Darcy. You have both of you the sweetest of tempers. Jonathan, does not Miss Darcy have a sweet temper?"
Jonathan reddened and murmured an unintelligible reply. He saw Mr. Darcy glaring daggers at him and his mother. It had begun. Had she only chosen Miss Bingley for his future bride, he could have borne his mother's blatant matchmaking attempts with equanimity. Miss Bingley was more than capable, he was sure, of deflecting Mrs. Bennet's sudden attacks and insinuations, but Miss Darcy was too easily confused and embarrassed. For that matter, the young lady's brother was no insignificant consideration. Fortunately, his mother did not require his answering her outrageous question, though she continued to harass Miss Darcy.
"You must not be frightened, my dear," Mrs. Bennet told her, "of my Jonathan's odd humour. I know he can sometimes say the strangest things! But his father is to blame for that. He has a great deal of his father in him, but he would never harm so much as a fly."
"Mama..." Elizabeth's voice was finally heard, sounding faint. She had been standing some distance away, ardently wishing for a sudden earthquake to split the earth underneath her and swallow her up. "Mama, have you seen..."
"What a lovely room you have here, Mr. Bingley!" Mrs. Bennet continued without attending to her daughter. "I am sure you will never want to leave Netherfield now that you are come here. At any rate, I hope you will not leave in a great hurry."
"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," he replied, with an admirable recovery from his recent embarrassment, "and therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here."
"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," Elizabeth said.
"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried Mr. Bingley, turning towards her.
"Oh yes - I understand you perfectly."
"I'm afraid I must say the same, Mr. Bingley," Jonathan said with a smile, having only just recovered his voice fully.
Bingley looked from one to the other in amusement. "I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful."
"That is as it happens," Elizabeth said cheekily. "It does not necessarily follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours."
"Lizzy!" her mother cried. "Remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home."
Elizabeth fell silent at once, blushing in mortification at her mother's having chastised her in public. Jonathan caught her eye and gave her a wink. She smiled weakly.
"I did not know before," Bingley said immediately, "that you were studiers of character. It must be an amusing study."
"Yes; but intricate characters are the most amusing," Elizabeth said.
"They have at least that advantage," Jonathan concurred.
"The country," said Darcy, who had hitherto been silent, "can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society."
"But people themselves alter so much that there is something to be observed in them forever," Elizabeth told him.
"Yes indeed! I assure there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town!" cried Mrs. Bennet.
Everybody was surprised. Elizabeth and Jonathan turned to stare at their mother, and Bingley gave his friend another reproachful look. Darcy vowed to ask his friend exactly what it was he had done to inspire this behaviour.
"I do not see," Mrs. Bennet continued peevishly, "that London has any advantage over the country, besides the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter than town, is it not, Mr. Bingley?"
"When I am in the country," Mr. Bingley said cheerfully, "I never wish to leave it, and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."
"Aye, that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman," looking towards Mr. Darcy, "seemed to think the country nothing at all."
"Mama," Elizabeth said hurriedly, "you mistake Mr. Darcy meaning."
"Indeed," Jonathan added. "He only meant that there was not so great a variety of people to be met with in the country as in town..."
"Which you must own to be true," finished Elizabeth.
The Netherfield party was now watching the brother and sister with amusement as they finished each other's sentences. Mrs. Bennet, apparently, saw nothing unusual in it, and continued in the same agitated tone.
"Indeed, nobody said there were, but as to not meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four and twenty families."
Years of practice helped Darcy keep his countenance, Bingley worked hard not to smile, and the ladies stared at Mrs. Bennet with varying and characteristic degrees of astonishment and haughtiness. Jonathan and Elizabeth looked at each other, and then Elizabeth said,
"Have you seen Charlotte Lucas since I came away?"
"Yes," Mrs. Bennet said. "She called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man he is! That is my idea of good breeding, and those persons who fancy themselves very important and never open their mouths quite mistake the matter."
Darcy's brows rose almost imperceptibly at this barb, and saw with no little perturbation that Bingley was eyeing him with amusement, and Elizabeth was fighting a smile. Surely they did not expect him to prattle on like that fool Sir William Lucas!
"Did Charlotte dine with you?" Elizabeth asked.
"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince pies. For my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work; my girls are brought up differently. But the Lucases are all very good sort of girls, I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think Charlotte so very plain - but then she is our particular friend."
"She seems a very pleasant young woman," Mr. Bingley said.
"Oh, yes, but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast of my own child but to be sure Jane - one does not often see anybody better looking. When she was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my brother Gardiner's in town so much in love with her! But nothing came of it after all; I suppose he thought her too young. He wrote some verses on her, however, and very pretty they were."
"And so ended his affection!" Elizabeth exclaimed impatiently. "I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"
"Odd," Mr. Darcy said. "I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love."
"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may," Elizabeth said, rounding on him. "Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a thin, weak sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."
Mr. Darcy smiled - which took Jonathan aback. Something about the feeling behind that smile surprised him.
There was a moment of silence, and the rest of the visit was comparatively uneventful. Mrs. Bennet expressed her profuse thanks again, and was met with unwearying civility, at least on the gentleman's part; Lydia and Kitty begged for a ball at Netherfield the moment Jane was better, and were informed that they could if they pleased name the very day of the ball as soon as their sister was recovered. Jonathan was invited to shoot at any time convenient, and told to relay the same message to his father. The visit ended, therefore, on fairly amiable terms.
Elizabeth walked them all to the door, and Jonathan stopped to talk to her.
"Are you well, Lizzy?" he asked. "You look quite done in."
"I am well," she answered wearily, "but I am very tired. I wish with all my heart that Jane were better and that we could return with you. I have never in my life desired so much to leave a place!"
"Are they being unkind to you?"
"Of course not. Mr. Bingley is all that is amiable; his sisters are civil, even though they are not friendly; Miss Darcy is a true gem."
"And Mr. Darcy?"
"Oh!" Elizabeth began to sound exasperated. "He is the most infuriating man! Silent as a tomb for hours together, and when he does finally say something, he expects the world to take notice and applaud him for his noble and philosophical mind. I grow quite sick of it."
"Steady on, my dear. I understand that Mr. Jones believes Jane well on the road to recovery. It shan't be long."
"Take care, Jon," Elizabeth said with a smile as her mother began to shout for her son to make haste.
"And you, Lizzy." Jon kissed her cheek and then hurried out to the carriage.
Chapter 10
It was Elizabeth's way to return directly to her sister's room after breakfast, make sure of her comfort, and then return downstairs. Jane insisted that she felt much better, and that Elizabeth should not be always in the sickroom, and also that it was not quite polite to completely ignore their hosts. Elizabeth allowed these sentiments to be correct, though not enjoying her visit as thoroughly as she let Jane believe. If Jane thought that her illness had led to her sister's unhappiness, she would have been miserable, and Elizabeth would not allow her a moment's uneasiness if she could at all help it.
"You are perfectly comfortable, then?" Elizabeth said anxiously.
"Of course, Lizzy," Jane said with a smile. "Truly, I feel much better. I believe I may even venture downstairs tonight."
"Then I will leave you." Elizabeth kissed her sister's forehead and left the room. She walked to the end of the hallway and looked out an end window. Mr. Darcy was walking alone through the shrubbery. Miss Bingley was not far behind him, but suddenly took a path that would intercept his. Elizabeth laughed to herself. She left the window and proceeded downstairs. On inquiring of a servant, she was informed that Mr. Bingley was in his study, and Miss Darcy in the music room. She knew from experience that it was not wise to disturb a gentleman when he was up to his ears in paperwork, and decided to talk to Miss Darcy instead.
She slowed as she neared the music room. A slow, sad song wafted through the partially opened door and into the hallway. The voice singing had such strong, tender emotion in it that Elizabeth was nearly moved to tears. As the song neared its close, the voice broke, the song ended on a discordant note, and silence reigned.
Elizabeth doubted the propriety of entering the room at such a private moment, and turned to leave, but she stepped on a loose board in the floor that immediately announced her presence.
"Who is it?" Miss Darcy's agitated voice called.
"It is only I," Elizabeth said sheepishly, looking around the door and into the room. "I heard your music and came to listen, but..."
"Do come in," Georgiana said quietly.
Elizabeth walked all the way into the room and sat on a chair near the instrument. Georgiana hastily hid her handkerchief, but not before Elizabeth had seen it.
"Are you quite well, Miss Darcy?" Elizabeth asked gently.
"I suppose, in the strictest sense, I am well," was the answer.
"You begin to sound more and more like your brother," Elizabeth said with a small smile. "He could hardly give a vaguer answer if he tried."
"Miss Bennet, I beg you will forgive me," Georgiana said, turning to her with an open countenance. "I know that I have not known you long, and I am afraid you will think me impertinent."
"You, impertinent! My dear girl, I can think of no word that does you more discredit. You are the least impertinent person I know, and there is very little you could do to make me think otherwise."
"It is just - I think of you as my friend. It is so strange, because I have only known you a few weeks, and we talk so little."
"We have plenty of opportunity to talk now, if you wish."
"What is it like to have sisters?" Georgiana asked very shyly.
Elizabeth looked surprised. "I beg your pardon?"
"I have always wanted to have a sister. My brother is the best and kindest of brothers, and I love him dearly, but in a sister I would have had a friend, a confidante - someone I could tell things I can never tell him. And yet, you and your brother have such an easy friendship..."
"Ah, but Miss Darcy, my brother is only five years my senior."
"That is very true - Fitzwilliam is more than ten years older than I am, and he has had the raising of me. I suppose it is a very different circumstance."
"Very different indeed. But you wanted to know what it is like to have a sister. A sister can be the greatest friend you have in the world, and at the same time can be very trying. I have five sisters, you know, and although I love them all dearly, I cannot confide in Lydia, Mary, and Kitty, the way I can in Jane. And sometimes a relationship is not necessary to make someone your sister. My friend Charlotte Lucas and I are much closer than I am to Lydia."
"I do not believe I have ever had a lady friend," Georgiana said thoughtfully. "I do not think Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst are my friends - they seem to like me, but sometimes I think..." She stopped briefly, but continued after a few seconds, "And Mrs. Annesley - you have not met her; she is in London on holiday because I wanted so badly to come with my brother - is only my companion, though she is a wonderful woman and very easy to talk to. I think - I should like to be your friend, if you would let me."
"Let you! Miss Darcy, I can think of nothing that would delight me more."
"You are much too kind." Georgiana blushed and studied her hands. "I wonder, though," she continued after a moment of silence, "if I might ask you a question."
"Of course you may, though I do not pretend to be a fount of wisdom."
"Have you - have you ever been in love?"
It was not at all the kind of question Elizabeth expected. "I - I do not think I have."
"Oh. I had only hoped you could tell me..." Georgiana observed her hands again. "This summer I thought I was. But now I am not quite sure. Things have happened, and I know I should no longer love him. I know I should cease to think about him. But I cannot help it."
Elizabeth did not know what to say, and whatever else Georgiana was about to say was lost forever, because Mrs. Hurst then entered the room.
"Oh, Miss Eliza! Georgiana! I declare I am quite bored out of my wits. Will you both take a turn in the shrubbery with me?"
"I thank you, Mrs. Hurst," Georgiana said quickly, "but I think I will stay and practice more. I should not like Mrs. Annesley to think I have neglected my studies."
"Very well, my dear. Miss Eliza? I understand you are an excellent walker. Will you oblige me?"
Elizabeth glanced at her companion, saw that her expression was carefully closed, and reluctantly consented.
Darcy returned from his desired solitary walk very much agitated. He had been followed into the shrubbery by Caroline Bingley, teased and tormented about Miss Elizabeth Bennet, his supposed future bride, surprised into the company of said Miss Elizabeth and Mrs. Hurst in the next moment as they rounded a corner in the shrubbery, and forced to - thanks to Miss Elizabeth's immediately hurrying away - walk alone with one of Bingley's sisters on each arm. Remembering that he had a few things to question his friend about, he headed directly for the study.
He found Bingley staring despairingly at a letter. When he knocked on the door, he was welcomed with the utmost alacrity.
"Darcy! I say, thank God you came along! I cannot make heads or tails of this mess."
"I will help you in a moment. I have something I wish to ask you. What were all those irritated glances you sent my way when Mrs. Bennet and family called here this morning?"
"Oh, that." Bingley turned slightly red. "I'm sorry, old chap, but - well, sometimes you offend my guests without even meaning to, and - well, I have no wish to alienate the Bennets."
"Alienate!" Darcy gave him a towering frown. "If the truth will alienate them, Charles, you are well rid of them."
"Don't look so black, Darce. You sound positively Puritan! Sometimes a little white lie can be the difference between peace and war, you know. I'm well aware that my sisters don't like Miss Elizabeth for some obscure reason, but I hardly need to make her brother aware of the fact, do I? I daresay he's seen it himself, and it's not my place to point it out to him."
Darcy had the grace to look a little ashamed. "I suppose you do have a point."
"You know I'm grateful to you, Darcy, and I value your friendship more than I can say, but - to be sure sometimes you say the most awkward things. I don't know what has got into you, for I've never heard you say such things before. You were the one who told me to 'never insult Scotland to a Scotsman' and all that."
"I know, I know," Darcy sighed. "I apologize, Bingley, and I know if anyone had ever dared to speak of Pemberley to me in such a manner, I might have been just as offended. But I cannot explain my behaviour. You cannot be blind to the inferiority of the society here, Charles. After so many years in town, moving in the best circles..."
"On the contrary, I've found the society here far superior to any other I've been in."
Darcy looked up, saw the expression on his friend's face, and knew what he alluded to. Rather than respond seriously, which he knew would be useless, he only replied with a smile, "By superior I presume you mean the most beautiful."
"And the sweetest and kindest!" Bingley said with a cheerful grin and a wink. "Come on, then, Darcy, the devil take this paperwork. Dinner will be on in an hour, and I understand Miss Bennet is to come downstairs tonight. I want to appear to advantage!"
Darcy laughed heartily at that. "And that is where you and your sister resemble each other!"
When dinner was over, Elizabeth hurried up to her sister's room and, seeing her well guarded from the cold, attended her downstairs to the drawing room. She was welcomed by her two friends with expressions of the liveliest joy, which she accepted gratefully. Elizabeth, though certainly not believing half of what they said, was glad for the fuss they were making over Jane, as it allowed her to talk to Miss Darcy, and before the gentlemen entered the room, they had progressed so far in their intimacy as to call each other by their Christian names.
When the gentlemen came in, Jane was no longer the first object. Miss Bingley's eyes immediately flew to Mr. Darcy, and she had something to say to him before he had advanced very far into the room. He addressed himself first to Miss Bennet, giving his polite congratulations, and then smiled at his sister before sitting down with a book. Mr. Hurst made his bow and congratulations as well, but Bingley was by far the most enthusiastic. In his anxiety that she be neither too hot nor too cold, she was moved about the room for nearly half an hour until he was satisfied, and then he sat near her and talked to nobody else. Miss Bingley now chose to sit with a book as well, and took a seat near Darcy. However, she was quite as much engaged in watching Darcy's progress through his book, as in reading her own, which she had only chosen because it was the second volume of his. At length, after having many of her conversational sallies tossed carelessly aside, she threw aside her book, yawned, and began to walk about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well, but Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In desperation, she turned to Elizabeth and Georgiana and said, "Miss Eliza - Miss Darcy - I persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room. It is so refreshing after sitting so long."
Elizabeth and Georgiana looked at each other in surprise, but readily accepted the offer. Mr. Darcy, who was no longer astonished by any show of attention to his sister, was nevertheless as awake to the novelty of attention to Elizabeth as she herself could be, and therefore closed his book. He was directly invited to join their party, but declined, saying he could observe only two motives for their walking about the room together, with either of which motives, his joining them would interfere.
"Why, what can you mean?" Miss Bingley cried. "What on earth can he mean?" she said, directing the question to the two ladies beside her.
"I cannot imagine, Miss Bingley," Georgiana said quietly.
"It is my advice," Elizabeth said decidedly, "not to inquire. We can be sure he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it."
Georgiana giggled, but Miss Bingley was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in anything, and persisted in requiring an explanation of his two motives.
"The first," he said, as soon as she allowed him to speak, "is that you are in each other's confidence and have secret matters to discuss, and if that is case, I should be completely in your way. The second," and a little smile appeared on his lips, "is that you are aware that your figures appear to best advantage when walking, and if that is the case, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire."
Georgiana and Elizabeth stared at him, uncertain what to make of his sudden audacity, but Miss Bingley warmed to his rare display and exclaimed, "Shocking reply! I never heard anything so abominable! Girls, how shall we punish him for such a speech?"
"Punish my brother?" Georgiana looked positively scandalized.
"Nothing so easy," Elizabeth proclaimed. "Tease him. Laugh at him."
"Laugh at Mr. Darcy?" "Laugh at Fitzwilliam?" exclaimed Miss Bingley and Georgiana at the same time.
"Impossible, my dear Miss Eliza. We will not expose ourselves to laugh without an object," Miss Bingley said.
"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at! Is it so, Georgiana?" Georgiana looked horrified at the prospect of laughing at her brother. "Well, that is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue. I dearly love a laugh."
"The wisest and best of men," said Darcy, "nay, the wisest and best of their actions, have been rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke."
"Certainly - but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without."
"Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses that expose a strong understanding to ridicule."
"Such as vanity and pride."
Georgiana was now following the conversation as one would a game of battledore and shuttlecock, looking from one to the other.
"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed," replied he, "but pride - where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation."
Elizabeth turned away to hide her smile.
"Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume," Miss Bingley said. "And pray, what is the result."
"I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise."
"I have made no such pretension," Darcy said, exasperation at being made the fool in front of his sister seeping into his voice. "I have faults enough, but I hope they are not of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It might be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever."
"That is a failing indeed," Elizabeth said, "but I cannot laugh it at it."
"I believe every disposition has a tendency to some particular evil."
"Your defect is a propensity to hate everyone."
"And yours is willfully to misunderstand them."
"Oh, shall we not have some music?" cried Miss Bingley. "Louisa, you will not mind our waking Mr. Hurst."
Her sister made no objection, and Mr. Darcy, after a few minutes' reflection, was not sorry for it. He began to see the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention.
Chapter 11
By the next day, Elizabeth was really desperate to be home. Fortunately, Jane allowed that they had imposed on the Bingleys quite long enough, and they agreed that Elizabeth should write home and beg that the carriage be sent for them in the course of the day. The answer to this note was not nearly as obliging as they had hoped: Mrs. Bennet had counted on her daughters staying till Tuesday, which would exactly finish Jane's week, and she simply could not bring herself to welcome them before. Elizabeth, however, was determined not to stay longer. She convinced Jane to borrow Bingley's carriage.
But when the request was made, so much was said of wishing them to stay at least another day to work on Jane, that they could not help but concede. The parting was to take place on Sunday after church.
To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence. Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked, and although he was extremely grateful to her for her friendship with Georgiana, and held her in esteem, he could not be blind to her want of fortune and proper connections. Captivating as he found her, she would never do for a wife.
Much to his chagrin, he had indeed found much to admire in Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and had long regarded her with some interest. With her light figure, dark curls, and luminous eyes, she was far from the golden Grecian goddesses who were now en vogue in London, but he could not help noticing that the beautiful expression of her eyes rendered her face extremely intelligent. Her mind was first-rate, and her manners playful and easy.
In point of fact, he was rather worried that his admiration had been too evident, and that he might have given rise to false hopes. Anxious to disabuse her of any ideas she might have formulated, as well as to prevent himself from falling further into an infatuation, he determined that his behaviour should be more guarded than ever, with the result that he scarcely spoke ten words to her throughout the whole of Saturday.
They were, at one point, left entirely to themselves. He had been in the library, in the least offensive chair in the room, when the door had opened, and he had found himself in the presence of the very lady whom he had hoped to avoid. For one slight moment, he rather wished Caroline Bingley had been the woman to enter the room, at not Miss Elizabeth. Miss Bingley, at least, was simple enough to understand and ignore. Ignoring Miss Elizabeth, for him in any case, was nigh impossible.
Ever observant of etiquette, he had stood and bowed to her on her entrance, and then resumed his seat and his book. The letters on the page danced before his eyes, mocking him with his lack of self-control. He was painfully aware of Elizabeth's every movement as she searched for something suitable, which Darcy knew was a near impossible task in Bingley's poor, neglected, disorganized library. Having finally chosen a book, Elizabeth stood in the middle of the room for nearly a whole minute, surveying the chairs around her. They were horrid, uncomfortable monstrosities that had come with the house, which Bingley had not had time to replace. Darcy happened to look up, and saw her staring at the chairs with her lower lip between her teeth. He was fully aware that he occupied the most comfortable seat in the room. Sighing inwardly, he rose, and offered her the seat. With a look of surprised gratitude, Elizabeth sat; Darcy chose another seat to endure, and peace reigned in the library.
And still he could not concentrate. The sound of her breathing, her occasional shift of position, a sigh, the turning of a page, were enough to arrest his attention, though he refused to look at her, and after half an hour's conscientious reading, he could not for the life of him remember anything he had read. Finally, blessedly, she was called to her sister's side, and Darcy was left to reread the passages he had already seen at least three times, idly wish for her return, and berate himself for being a fool.
Sunday came. Darcy and Georgiana were nearly three quarters of an hour ahead of everybody else from long habit. Sleeping late had not been encouraged at Pemberley, and neither of them really understood the benefit of sleeping for nearly half of the day. Georgiana sat at the table, in a white gown and eggshell-blue pelisse and bonnet, with her prayer-book in her lap. She was the one person, except perhaps Bingley, who could not rejoice over the Miss Bennets' departure. She felt the impending loss of Miss Elizabeth's company acutely. She sighed slightly.
Her brother was at her side in a moment. "Are you all right, Ana?" he said seriously.
She looked slightly amused at the childhood nickname. "You have not called me Ana in a very long time," she said quietly.
"Haven't I?"
"No ... always little endearments, and occasionally Georgiana, but I have not heard Ana for nearly a year." She flushed as she said it, but he merely looked at her gravely.
"You do not look happy." She glanced down at her hands. "Do you dislike it here? Do you wish to go back to London or Pemberley?"
"No!" she said eagerly, looking him full in the face. "I like it here very much. I am only unhappy because Lizzy is going away."
He started visibly. "Lizzy?"
"Yes ... Miss Elizabeth ... she said I might call her Lizzy if I liked, and I said I did not have a nickname, but that she could think of one. She calls me Georgie. Do you disapprove?"
Darcy shook his head, as much to clear it as to answer her question. Elizabeth Bennet had befriended his sister. She had talked to her, and with her, and overcome her shyness so completely that they were now behaving like bosom friends. Georgiana continued talking.
"She is so good ... I am so glad I came here, Fitzwilliam. When she talks with me, I don't feel as if she thinks I am silly or stupid, and she never tries to make me think as she thinks. There are times when I think she wants me to disagree with her. I will miss her."
"Georgiana, dear, she is not travelling to darkest Africa," Darcy smiled slightly. "She is only going back home, to Longbourn, which is only three miles away, and you may visit her any time you like."
"May I?" She looked delighted at the prospect.
"Of course. And when we leave, and we must leave in the not very distant future, a correspondence would not be untoward."
"And she may visit us in town?"
Darcy paused here. To allow his sister to continue an acquaintance with Elizabeth Bennet by letter was one thing; to openly consort with her in town would be quite another, especially if she stayed with her trade relations. "I do not know that that would be altogether advisable."
"Not advisable? But, Fitzwilliam, if I may be her friend here in Hertfordshire, why not in London as well?"
"London is different, darling. You will have your reputation to maintain, and Miss Elizabeth, admirable girl that she is, would not be considered a 'suitable' companion for a young woman of your standing."
"So I may write her," Georgiana said slowly, "and I may be her friend here, but I may not be her friend in town. May I invite her to Pemberley?"
Darcy reddened. "See here, my dear; I think you are taking this acquaintance with Miss Elizabeth a bit too far."
Georgiana looked up at him, her eyes wide with confusion and...could it be reproach? "She is not just my acquaintance, Fitzwilliam. She is my friend. She has talked to me and understood me and laughed with me. She treats me like an equal. Am I to repay her by treating her like an inferior?"
Poor Darcy could not quite believe his ears. His quiet, undemanding, passive little sister was arguing with him. The crux of it was he could not immediately answer her question. She had made a valid point, and he could not think of a way to describe the politics of London society without disgusting her. It was fortunate, then, that the rest of the party chose that moment to make their appearance. To his vexation, Miss Elizabeth came in the room, nodded coolly at him, and turned to his sister with a radiant smile. Georgiana returned it, and, arm in arm, they walked out to the carriages, talking and laughing.
Darcy walked behind them, completely nonplussed, and cursed Fate, Society, and himself by turns. Fate had shown him a woman whom he could admire, respect, and possibly love - a woman, moreover, who had befriended his sister and had nearly brought her out of her shell. Society had decreed that she was unsuitable to be either his wife or his sister's friend. And finally he, against everything he knew, against every feeling of pride and propriety, had begun to develop feelings towards a woman he could never marry, and whose society he would have to relinquish in a few months without any intention of seeing her again. He smiled joylessly to himself as he sat in the carriage across from Bingley. He was a fool.
After services, the separation took place. Miss Bingley's civility towards Elizabeth increased at last very rapidly. After assuring Jane the pleasure it would give her to see her at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with Elizabeth. Georgiana's farewell to Elizabeth was more tender, and infinitely more sincere, and she could not refrain from shedding a few tears over her friend's departure. Bingley was really sorry to see them go, and not until they were actually in the carriage did he seem to accept their leaving at all, and give over his attempts to make them stay. Darcy was silent until propriety insisted that he speak. Jane smiled and thanked her host and hostess for their hospitality, and Elizabeth, in a sudden return of good spirits, took leave of everyone in the liveliest manner. When they were fairly on their way home, Elizabeth could not help turning to her sister and exclaiming,
"My dear Jane, I am sorry to say that notwithstanding your excellent Mr. Bingley and that darling Miss Darcy, I have never been so happy to leave a place in my life!"
Chapter 12
"I hope, my dear," Mr. Bennet said the next day at breakfast, "that you have ordered a good dinner today, because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party."
"An addition?" his lady replied, looking puzzled. "I do not know of anyone who is coming, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to drop in, and I hope my family dinners are good enough for her. I do not believe she often sees such at home."
"The person of whom I speak is a gentleman and a stranger."
Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled. "A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr. Bingley, to be sure! Why, Jane, you never dropped a word of this, you sly thing! Well, I will be very happy to see Mr. Bingley, I am sure, but good lord! How unlucky! There is not a bit of fish to be got today. Lydia, my love, ring the bell. I must speak to Hill directly."
Mr. Bennet waited until his youngest daughter was halfway to the bell pull before he said, "It is not Mr. Bingley. It is a person I never saw in the whole course of my life."
For a few moments there was general speculation on who this stranger could be. The three eldest asked once and had done, but the three younger and their mother guessed everyone from the parson's new curate to the colonel of the militia. After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, Mr. Bennet explained,
"About a month ago I received this letter, and about a fortnight ago I answered it, for I thought it a case of some delicacy and requiring early attention. It is from my cousin Mr. Collins, who would have inherited this house and lands were it not for certain circumstances."
"Oh, my dear," Mrs. Bennet cried, "pray do not mention that odious man. I am sure, if he had had his way, we would all be turned out penniless after you died."
"Indeed, Mrs. Bennet, the crime of being next in the entail of this estate is a grievous one, and nothing can clear my cousin of that guilt, despite the fact that his inheritance is unlikely at least. However, if you will listen to his letter, you may be a little softened by his manner of expressing himself."
"I do not think I shall. Why should he write to you at all? It is all very impertinent and hypocritical. Why could he not keep on fighting with you, as his father did?"
"Well, he seems to have had some filial scruples on that head, as you will hear."
Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent15th October
Dear Sir,The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach, but was held back by the fear that it might be a disgrace to his memory to be on good terms with someone, with whom he was always pleased to be at variance. However, recent events necessitate my writing to you. A Mr. Edward Johnson, a cousin of mine and of yours, has recently left the terrestrial realm and been called to the celestial, and as you and your family are so far removed from this part of the country, I thought it incumbent upon me to inform you of this grievous affair.
Moreover, although the death of our cousin is no pleasant circumstance, I cannot help but consider it a fortunate one, as it affords me the opportunity to bridge that gap that has been formed between our families, and extend the hand of friendship. This world is so fleeting that our next breath is uncertain, and I should not like to ascend to Paradise, or bid you or any of my cousins farewell, in the knowledge that I have neglected my duties both as a relative and as a clergyman. Providence does not wish family members to be so estranged; indeed, we are meant to be as closely knit as possible in order to provide condolence in times of trouble and share cheer in times of joy. As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote peace and understanding in all families within the reach of my influence, and I flatter myself therefore that my present overtures of goodwill are highly commendable. As a third inducement, I have lately been introduced to the notice of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred to me the rectory of this parish, and who has counselled me to follow my feelings on this subject for, as she so condescendingly says, in this day and age, there is no telling what sort of friends one my find useful.
If you should have no objections, and no aversion to my present advances, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality until the Saturday sennight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, providing that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day. I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and children, your well-wisher and friend,
William Collins.
"At four o'clock, therefore," Mr. Bennet said, folding up the letter, "we may expect this peace-making gentleman. He seems a very conscientious and polite young man, and the connection could prove valuable."
"Indeed it could. His patroness is a noblewoman, and that could lead to great connections. Lady Catherine de Bourgh - such a well-sounding name!"
"It is strange, though," Elizabeth said after thinking for a moment, "that he should have waited so long to contact us, if he truly wished a reconciliation. There is something very pompous in his style - his duty as a clergyman to promote peace in our family? What can he have heard of us?"
"Can he possibly be a sensible man, sir?" Jonathan asked.
"I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his letter that promises well. I am impatient to see him."
When the two men were alone in the library for a few moments before the arrival of Mr. Collins, Jonathan confessed to his father that he was rather apprehensive about the forthcoming visit.
"It occurred to me," he said, "as you were reading that letter over the breakfast table, that this Mr. Collins might wish to marry into our family and increase his own holdings. Do you think that...?"
Mr. Bennet cut his son off with a wave of the hand. "I shouldn't worry about it. He would be neither the first man nor the last to seek to improve himself through marriage. Jane and Elizabeth are too sensible to accept his approaches, and the other girls - well, as I said, I won't worry."
As the time for Mr. Collins's arrival drew near, Mrs. Bennet was prepared to meet him with a composure that astonished her husband and children. Secure in the knowledge that however much he coveted it, Longbourn would not be the property of Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet had no real motive for disliking him. And if, as she hoped, he could be prevailed on to make an offer of marriage to one of her daughters - Elizabeth or Mary would do very well - there was reason even to be cordial to him. The prospect of a connection with a family like the de Bourghs was enough to elevate her to civility.
Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and received by the whole family with great politeness. Mr. Bennet said little, but everyone else was quite ready to talk, and Mr. Collins seemed neither in need of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. He was a tall, heavy-looking young man just of an age with Jonathan. His air was grave and stately, and his manners were very formal. He had not been long in the house before he complicated Mrs. Bennet on having such a fine family of daughters; said he had heard much of their beauty, but that fame had fallen short of the truth, and hoped she would see them well disposed of in marriage. Mrs. Bennet quarrelled with no compliments, and thanked him.
Everything in the house was examined and praised by him, and in other circumstances Mrs. Bennet would have been mortified, supposing him to view it all as his own future property, but now could graciously accept his raptures with a smile. At dinner her goodwill was for a moment done away when, exclaiming over the excellency of the dinner, he begged to know which of his fair cousins had presided over it. Mrs. Bennet assured him, with some asperity, that they were perfectly able to keep a good cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen. He apologized for insulting her; she declared in a softened tone that she was not at all offended, but he continued to apologize for a quarter of an hour.
When the servants had withdrawn, Mr. Bennet thought it right to have some conversation with his guest, and started a subject in which he expected him to shine.
"You seem very fortunate in your patroness, sir."
"Lady Catherine de Bourgh!" Mr. Collins intoned, with a very important aspect, and his manner was elevated to more than usual solemnity. "Indeed I am, sir. I have been treated with such affability, such condescension as I could never have dared to hope for. I have been invited twice to dine at Rosings Park. She has graciously approved of both the discourses I have had the honour of preaching before her, and she has even come once to visit me in my little parsonage and she approved the alterations I have been making."
"That is all very proper and civil to be sure," Mrs. Bennet said. "Does she live near you, sir?"
"The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park."
"Only a lane, eh?" Mr. Bennet said, eyes twinkling. He winked at his second daughter. "Fancy that, Lizzy." Elizabeth, who had been struggling to hide her smile before, bit her lip and glanced up at her father with mingled humour and reproach.
"I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?" continued Mrs. Bennet.
"She has one daughter, ma'am, the heiress of Rosings, and of very extensive property."
"And has she been presented at court?"
Mr. Collins gave a very mournful sigh. "Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town, and by that means, I told Lady Catherine myself one day, she has deprived the British court of its brightest ornament." Mrs. Bennet smiled and nodded. Jonathan ducked his head quickly to hide his own quickly growing smile. Mr. Collins, who apparently did not like to cease talking once he had gained momentum, turned to his host and said, "You may imagine, sir, how happy I am on every occasion to give those little elegant compliments that are always acceptable to ladies."
Jonathan smile widened. He saw Elizabeth snatch her napkin out of her lap and raise it to her lips, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
Mr. Bennet's face, however, remained politely interested. "It is very fortunate for you, sir, that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask whether these leasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are they the result of previous study?"
A small snort of laughter, passed off as a sneeze, issued from behind Elizabeth's napkin. Her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears of mirth as she lowered the napkin and replaced it in her lap. Jonathan feared he would lose his composure at any moment. Collins answered, with a look of thoughtful concentration,
"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time. I do sometimes amuse myself with writing down and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, but I try to give them as unstudied an air as possible."
Here Jonathan thought he might laugh aloud despite his best efforts, but then he saw Mr. Collins smile across the table towards Jane in what he evidently thought was a winning manner, and his elder brother instincts flared. Amusing he might be, but no Collins would look at his sister in such a manner.
Mr. Bennet only saw that his cousin was absurd as he had hoped. His expectations were fully answered, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment. By tea-time, however, the dose had been enough. When they had joined the ladies in the drawing-room, he immediately invited him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins consented readily, and books were produced, but he started back and protested that he never read novels. Mary very solemnly offered him the book she had been perusing, Fordyce's Sermons, and he took it readily.
Lydia gaped as he opened the volume, and before he had, in a very soporific manner, read three pages, interrupted him with,
"Do you know mama, my uncle Philips talks of turning away Richard, and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire him. I am going to Meryton to hear more about it tomorrow, and to ask when Mr. Denny comes back from town."
She was hurriedly hushed by her sisters and mother, but Mr. Collins closed his book, looked reproachfully at her, and said, "I have often observed how little young ladies are interested in books of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. It amazes me, I confess - but I will no longer importune my young cousin." He then turned to Mr. Bennet and offered himself as his antagonist at backgammon. Mr. Bennet accepted the challenge; Jonathan observed that he acted very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusement. This earned Jonathan a face from Elizabeth, which he was hard put not to laugh at, and though Mrs. Bennet and her daughters apologized most profusely to Mr. Collins for Lydia's interruption, and assured him it would not happen again, Mr. Collins would not resume his book. He assured them all that he bore his cousin no ill will, sat down opposite his host, and prepared for backgammon.
Chapter 13
Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up, had originally given him great humility of manner, but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and his rights as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.
For seeking the acquaintance of his cousins the Bennets he had more than one motive, and not the least of these was a strong inclination to marry. The Miss Bennets were each guaranteed only one thousand pounds per annum after their parents' decease, but the presence of their brother, who was to inherit the estate, assured that the girls would have sufficient, though not extensive dowries. Mr. Collins had furthermore been advised by his patroness to marry as soon as possible, and if his cousins were as handsome and amiable as rumour represented them, he meant to choose one of them. Of the success of his plan he had not the slightest doubt. Besides his own personal attributes of character and mind [snort], his situation in life was, as he thought, highly in his favour, and his relation to their family no small consideration.
His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet's lovely face confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what was due to seniority, and for the first evening she was his settled choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration. During a tête-à-tête with Mrs. Bennet, as he was telling her about his parish and his hopes for finding a mistress for it at Longbourn, he received a very warning against the Jane he had fixed on. Mrs. Bennet was expecting a proposal of marriage any day from a charming young man, and though she knew of no prepossession on the parts of her younger daughters, she felt she must hint that any aspirations to Jane must be avoided.
Mr. Collins took the hint, and had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth almost instantaneously. Elizabeth was second to Jane in birth and beauty, and was therefore her natural successor. Mrs. Bennet treasured up this knowledge, and trusted that she soon might have two daughters and a son married.
Lydia's intention of going to Meryton was not forgotten, and all of her siblings agreed to accompany her. Mr. Collins, after the most polite pressing from Mr. Bennet, was persuaded to leave the library and walk with them. He offered his company to his cousin Elizabeth with great pomposity, and as she was too polite to rebuff him, she could only hope that the outdoors rendered him slightly less repulsive than he generally was indoors. She also took some comfort in the fact that Jonathan had perceived Mr. Collins's unwanted attention, and had placed himself on her other side, trusting that Collins could make no indelicate insinuations or advances in her brother's presence.
When the party entered Meryton, Kitty and Lydia could no longer be called on to contribute to conversation. Their eyes were immediately wandering up and down the street in quest of the officers, and the burden of conversation fell entirely upon Jane, Mary, and Mr. Collins, for Elizabeth and Jonathan studiously avoided speaking to Mr. Collins when they could avoid it without being uncivil.
The attention of every lady, however, was soon caught by a young man walking on the other side of the street with Mr. Denny, concerning whose return from London Lydia came to enquire. Mr. Denny bowed as they passed, and everyone wondered who the stranger could be. Kitty and Lydia decided that they should find out if at all possible, and crossed the street in a most determined manner, on pretence of wanting something in a shop. Luckily, they were prevented from actually walking after Mr. Denny and the stranger, because the two gentlemen had turned and approached the very same spot.
Mr. Denny greeted them immediately, and then begged permission to introduce them to his friend Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him from town, and who was going to accept a commission as a lieutenant in the corps. The ladies, with the possible exception of Mary, were all very much pleased. Only regimentals could make Mr. Wickham more charming than he already was. He had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. When he had been introduced, and Jonathan had introduced both gentlemen to Mr. Collins, Mr. Wickham showed himself as polite and unassuming as he was handsome, and the whole company was talking together very agreeably when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street.
Upon distinguishing Jonathan and the ladies, the two gentlemen came directly towards them and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to enquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, touched his hat at Jonathan, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they were arrested by the sight of the stranger.
Mr. Darcy started visibly, all colour drained from his face, and his horse, sensing his master's discomposure, backed away skittishly. Never moving his eyes from Mr. Wickham's face, which had flushed a very dark red, he brought the horse back under control, turned without acknowledging Mr. Wickham's hesitant salutation, and rode determinedly away from the little group.
Jonathan had seen it all, but could not understand it, and looked immediately at Elizabeth to see if she had seen and comprehended any better than he had. Elizabeth was watching Mr. Darcy's back as he rode away, her eyes then moved to Mr. Wickham, whose colour was slowly returning to normal, and then she met Jonathan's gaze with raised eyebrows. Jonathan instantly understood. Elizabeth no more understood such behaviour than he did, but there would be ample discussion about it when they were alone.
No one else, however, had noticed anything odd. Lydia was entreating Mr. Wickham to join them all at the Philipses' that evening for supper and cards, and he was gently but firmly declining to attend unless the invitation was extended to him by Mrs. Philips. This instance of good breeding pleased everyone, and when the gentlemen walked on, great admiration and a desire to see him often had been voiced by nearly every woman in the party. The little walk ended with a visit to Mrs. Philips, which had always been the avowed goal of the journey, and after being introduced to Mr. Collins, her first order of business was to tell her nieces all she knew about Mr. Wickham. Her intelligence, however, was as limited as their own, and she could tell them nothing that they did not already know. She promised, however, to make her husband visit Mr. Wickham and invite him to that night's entertainment, and even extended her invitation to include Mr. Collins, who was almost as surprised as he was gratified by this attention.
When they arrived again at Longbourn, Mr. Collins extolled the virtues of Mrs. Philips to her sister, who was extremely flattered to hear his description of her as an extraordinarily elegant woman. Elizabeth exited the room as soon as she could, silently asking her brother and elder sister to follow her.
Elizabeth and Jonathan told Jane all that they had seen between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham, and although Jane would have defended either or both had they appeared to be wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her brother and sister.
"It does indeed have a very odd appearance," she said, "but we can probably never know the circumstances. Perhaps Mr. Darcy has heard some gross misrepresentation of Mr. Wickham, and Mr. Wickham is very embarrassed by it."
"My dear Jane," said Elizabeth, "Mr. Darcy's refusing to acknowledge Mr. Wickham is rude enough without added injury. But if Mr. Darcy has indeed heard such malicious rumours and not consulted the man in question, he is hardly less blameable."
"There must have been some ill feeling between them," Jonathan said, "because I have never seen Mr. Darcy so completely lose his composure. He is always absolutely in control."
"I found his discomposure oddly satisfying," replied his second sister with a smile. "The man annoyingly self-controlled, and it gratifies me to no end to see him lose that abominable haughtiness and be lowered to behave as a lesser mortal."
"Lizzy, you are very unkind," Jane said. "Mr. Darcy may seem arrogant, but I am sure he is only reserved and perhaps rather shy."
"Shy, Jane!" exclaimed Elizabeth with a laugh. "Only you, my dear sister, could think so. His sister is shy; look there if you want to see real bashfulness, and once you penetrate her shyness she is my favourite creature in the world next to you and Jon. But Mr. Darcy is no bashful than I am. Depend upon it, he knows how he presents himself, and he is very well pleased with that presentation."
Kitty and Lydia now ran into the room, exclaiming over Mr. Wickham anew, and everyone was obliged once more to repeat what they had already said in his praise, and to listen to the younger girls decide which gowns they had best wear to their aunt's that evening, and how they should draw Mr. Wickham away and secure his attention to themselves alone.
Darcy rode into Netherfield's court still very much discomposed. Had that scapegrace followed him here? Did he know of Georgiana's presence in Hertfordshire?
He had leapt off his horse and rushed into the house before Bingley had cleared Netherfield's gates. Taking the stairs three at a time, he rushed to the music room and found Georgiana at the piano-forte alone.
"Ana," he said breathlessly, crossing the room in two strides.
"Fitzwilliam! What..." she trailed off as he took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. "Are you well? What has happened?"
"Ana, I am very sorry; believe me, I regret it from the bottom of my heart, but you must leave this place."
"Leave! Oh, Fitzwilliam, I couldn't! I don't wish to! Please don't make me leave!"
He took her in his arms and smoothed her hair. "I am sorry, darling, so sorry, but I cannot have you stay here another day."
"But why? What has happened?"
"Georgiana..." He gulped and led her to sit on a divan. "My dear, he is here."
"H-here?" Georgiana paled so that her brother thought she might lose her senses. "In Hertfordshire?"
"Yes. I do not know if he followed us or if fate is simply being cruel, but he is here."
"Oh, Fitzwilliam," Georgiana gasped. She leaned onto his shoulder and sobbed. "Why cannot he leave us alone? Must he always dog our footsteps? Will we - will I never be free of him?"
"You cannot stay here, Ana," Darcy said determinedly. "I will not have you hurt again. You must go back to London."
"To London? But the townhouse is not open; I shall have nowhere to stay."
"Yes, yes, I know." Darcy bit his lip in indecision. "I shall send you to Robert. I will send a letter by you that you can give to the servants at our house so they can ready it for you - Robert can notify Mrs. Annesley that her services are needed again - yes, I think that will have to do." Through her tears Georgiana managed a weak chuckle. "What is it, my dear?"
"It is you. Nothing so very amusing, really. But I never thought I would see you concoct such a scheme on such a moment's notice. Ordinarily you must plan everything to the last detail. But then," she was suddenly teary again, "you are not coming with me?"
"Bingley still needs my assistance, my dear, or I would with all my heart. I shall not stay here a moment longer than is necessary."
"And will you tell me about the ball when next I see you?"
"The ball!" he groaned. "Dash it all, I'd forgotten. But yes, I shall tell you all about it, and I'll try to remember as many details about who danced with whom and who wore what gown, but you know we men have horrible memories when those things are concerned."
"And will you..." Georgiana stopped and bit her lip.
"Will I?"
"Will you try and make friends with Lizzy?"
"I - what?" Darcy looked as if this was the last request he had expected.
"I know you like her, Fitzwilliam. And I so want you to be friends - you both mean so much to me."
"Well - I..." Poor Darcy was utterly at a loss for an answer, and was slightly relieved when Bingley knocked on the door and poked his head in.
"Are you all right, man? I declare I've never seen you ride faster..."
"Bingley," Darcy interrupted with a very serious aspect, "I must have a word with you about the ball."
Chapter 14
As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach conveyed him and five of his cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton, while Jonathan followed on horseback. When they reached their aunt's, the young ladies had the pleasure of hearing as they entered the drawing-room, that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in the house.
Jonathan immediately excused himself to look in on his uncle and greet the officers, and Mr. Collins remained behind to talk to his hostess. Indeed, all his tales of his parsonage, his patroness, and her grand manor, served to continually increase Mrs. Philips's opinion of his consequence. In the dining room, Jonathan was greeted with great alacrity, and Mr. Wickham claimed his acquaintance with an easy friendless perfectly correct and prepossessing, and they all talked very comfortably until a few of the gentlemen, on learning that Jonathan's sisters had joined the little party in the drawing-room, expressed a desire to remove thither at once.
"I say, Bennet," one of them said, "is what I hear about Miss Bennet and that Bingley chap true?"
Jonathan turned and looked at him oddly. "I don't know what you mean, Carter."
Carter laughed. "Oh, well, if mum's the word, I won't press you further - but let me just tell you that the whole town expects to hear wedding bells before the year is out!"
Frowning, Jonathan did not have time to frame a properly quelling response before they entered the drawing-room.
As soon as they entered, Mr. Collins, whose importance in the gathering had been trifling at best, seemed in danger of being forgotten altogether. To the girls he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was kept in supply of coffee and muffin.
Jonathan also could not help but notice that although the officers had before been great favourites in general, especially with his youngest sisters, nearly every female eye was turned to Mr. Wickham. He was as indisputably superior to all the officers in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.
After making the necessary rounds of the room and greeting acquaintances, Mr. Wickham finally chose to take a seat beside Elizabeth, who, Jonathan noticed, looked very pleased with the arrangement. He then fell victim to his aunt's demand for whist players, as did Mr. Collins though he knew little of the game, and became so much involved in his cards and trying to educate his cousin on the rules of the game, that he had no more time to attend to his sister's conversation with the handsome stranger; he was sure of hearing the whole of it later at any rate.
When Mr. Wickham had chosen his seat, Elizabeth safely counted herself the happiest woman in the room. He began to talk to her very agreeably, and though he conversed only on the weather and the probability of a rainy season, she felt that commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker. Unfortunately, Lydia sat on his other side, and seemed in danger of engrossing him entirely with her very determined talking, but she was also too fond of lottery tickets, and too eager to make bets and exclaim after prizes, to pay anyone much attention for very long. Elizabeth therefore had Mr. Wickham almost entirely to herself, but she could not expect what she most wished to be told: the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that gentleman. She was most pleasantly surprised, therefore, when he introduced the subject himself. He began by asking how far Netherfield was from Meryton, and on receiving the answer, asked in a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been residing there.
"About a month," was her reply, and unwilling to let the subject drop, she continued, "I understand he is a man of very large property in Derbyshire."
"Yes. His estate there is a noble one - a clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head, for I have been connected with the family in a peculiar manner from my childhood." Elizabeth must have looked her amazement because he continued, "Yes, you may well be surprised. Perhaps you noticed the very cold manner of greeting between Mr. Darcy and myself."
Elizabeth blushed and admitted that she had.
Mr. Wickham smiled gently and then asked, "Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"
"As much as I ever wish to be," exclaimed Elizabeth. "I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I find him to be the most perplexing and disagreeable man I have ever known."
"I am very glad," he answered, "that he, or that any man, should be judged by his just deserts, but I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish. I fear few would share that opinion except myself."
"He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride."
"Does he intend to stay long in this country?"
"I do not at all know, but I have heard nothing of his going away. I hope his being in the neighbourhood will not affect your plans to stay."
"It is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, but I have no reason to avoid him except one - he had done me great wrong."
Elizabeth felt the interest of the subject increase, but dared not enquire further. After a brief pause, Mr. Wickham said quietly, "His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was my godfather, and one of the best men that ever breathed. My father was his steward. After my father's death, old Mr. Darcy cared for me - provided for me - loved me, I believe, as if I were his own son. He meant for me to go into the church. It was my dearest wish to enter into that profession, but after he died, and the living he had promised me fell vacant, the son refused point blank to honour his father's promises."
"This is quite shocking!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "How could his will be disregarded? Why did you not seek legal redress? What can have been his motive?"
"There was just such an informality in the terms of the will as to give me no hope from the law. It was not a bequest so much as recommendation, but anyone with proper feelings must have recognized the intent. As for his motive, I can only think of one: his real, abiding dislike for me, and perhaps some jealousy of his father's preference of me. However, I cannot accuse myself of ever having done anything to merit such hatred, besides perhaps speaking my opinion of him and to him a little too openly."
"I do not know what to say," Elizabeth said slowly. "I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this. To descend to such malicious revenge! To treat in such a manner the favourite of his father, the playmate of his childhood!" Elizabeth was silent for a moment, and then said, "I have often wondered at his friendship with Mr. Bingley, but this makes it unaccountable. How can Mr. Darcy have imposed on him?"
"Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses if he thinks it worth his while. His pride his friend there. Among those that are his equals in consequence he can be just, sincere, rational, liberal-minded, and even agreeable."
"And his sister!" cried Elizabeth. "How is it possible that under his sole care, she should be so lovely, modest, and unpretending a girl as she is?"
"Miss Darcy is at Netherfield?" Mr. Wickham said, looking decidedly paler.
"Yes, she is - but I suppose Mr. Darcy is too proud to show his true self to his sister, and certainly she must marry well. Yes, it is perfectly understandable."
"I have not seen Miss Darcy in many months," Mr. Wickham said in an agitated voice, "but I shall never forget or cease to regret her."
Elizabeth raised astonished eyes to his face.
He seemed to collect himself and continued, 'I have always been very fond of Miss Darcy, and I was always a favourite with her, I believe. After her brother and I parted company, I feared I should never set eyes on her again. But Miss Darcy graciously allowed me to visit her occasionally in town, and this past summer..." He paused as if overcome by his feelings. "This past summer I chose to spend a few weeks in Ramsgate. Miss Darcy was, most astonishingly, there as well, and I visited her often. Those were the happiest days of my life. In a very short time, my budding feelings for her blossomed completely, and when I gathered enough courage to declare myself and beg her hand, I discovered that she returned my affections. She gave me leave to apply to her brother when he arrived. Two days later he came, I made my declaration and request, and was not only refused out of hand, but turned from the house, ordered never to return, and from that day to this I have not seen Miss Darcy even once. Every note is returned unopened, and whenever I chance a call at the Darcy townhouse the door is unceremoniously shut in my face."
Elizabeth knew not what to say. After a few moments, she murmured, "I am very sorry."
"As am I," sighed he. "I had hoped, I confess," he continued in a somewhat more bitter tone, "that Mr. Darcy's love for his sister and wish of procuring her happiness might override his dislike of me. But the case, I am sure, is this: his pride could not endure seeing his sister married to the mere son of a steward, and he is still determined to keep us apart. You will see - in a few days he will send her off to London that I might not contaminate her by being in the same county."
Elizabeth was silent. What could one say to relieve such disappointment, such pain? The uneasy moment was broken when the whist table broke up and Mr. Collins took the seat on Elizabeth's other side. Mrs. Philips, who sat near him, enquired after his success. It had not been very great: he had lost every point. She immediately expressed her concern; he replied that because of his patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh, he need not regard such trifles. Mr. Wickham looked surprised, and asked Elizabeth about her cousin's connection to the family of de Bourgh. Elizabeth told him all she knew, and he informed her that Lady Anne Darcy and Lady Catherine de Bourgh had been sisters, and that Lady Catherine's daughter Anne, the present Mr. Darcy's cousin, was expected to be Mr. Darcy's bride. Elizabeth laughed at this revelation, thinking of poor Miss Bingley and her vain attempts to compliment his sister and flatter himself if he were self-destined for another. Mr. Wickham explained that Lady Catherine had never been to his taste, with a dictatorial and insolent manner, and Elizabeth owned that she had expected as much. In short, they talked at great length with very mutual satisfaction, and Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. Even her cousin's long-winded soliloquies could not disturb her happiness, and she could only pause in her perfect serenity, to reflect on the pain Jonathan would receive when he was made acquainted with Miss Darcy's attachment to another.
That Miss Darcy still held an affection for Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth could not doubt, as she recalled a conversation - nearly a confidence - that had been interrupted at Netherfield during her stay there. However, neither could she question her brother's growing attachment to Miss Darcy, and when she reflected on how much this information would hurt him, her happiness was somewhat checked, and she began to hope for Mr. Wickham's disappointment, before remembering that he had suffered quite enough disappointment for one lifetime. In this confused state of spirits did she enter the house, and her sleep that night was fitful and uneasy.
Chapter 15
The next day at breakfast, a servant from Netherfield brought a note. Mrs. Bennet's eyes lit up again, and Jane's mouth was blossoming into a smile, when it became apparent that the note was for Elizabeth. Surprised and not a little suspicious, Elizabeth took the envelope and opened it to find a note written in a familiar hand.
My dear Elizabeth,It grieves me to say so, but by the time you have received this note, I shall have left Netherfield. My second guardian, my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, has expressed a desire to see me, and circumstances are such...but I cannot say more at the moment. I hope, that if you ever have occasion to visit London, you will come to see me in ------- St. Write to me very often, I promise to answer your letters with equal rapidity. I am sorry to depart without taking leave of you and your family, and I hope you are good enough to forgive me for it.
I remain, your well-wisher and friend,
Georgiana Darcy
The shock and disappointment with which Elizabeth read this missive need scarcely be described. She folded it hastily and put it away, schooling her features into a more neutral expression, but not before her brother and elder sister had seen her confusion. When the meal was over, all three went out into the shrubbery.
Once there, before producing the note from Miss Darcy, Elizabeth related to Jane and Jonathan all that had passed the night before about the living between Mr. Wickham and herself. They heard her with surprise. Jane could not bear to think that so amiable a young man as Mr. Wickham should have been treated so ill, but neither could she believe in Mr. Darcy's guilt.
"How is it possible," she asked, "for his most intimate friends to be so excessively deceived in him? There must have been some mistake."
"I can much more easily believe that Mr. Bingley has been imposed upon, than that Mr. Wickham should have invented such a history of himself as he gave me last night. Names, facts, everything without ceremony! If it be not so let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was truth in all his looks."
"Lizzy, you are not being reasonable," Jonathan said, speaking for the first time since her revelation. "Did you not recently accuse Mr. Darcy himself of ungenerously believing rumours?"
"These are more than rumours, Jon," Elizabeth argued. "I have reason to believe Mr. Wickham. If you knew all, you would not think me irrational."
"Then why not tell me all? He could not have told you anything so terrible that you cannot tell your older brother."
Elizabeth hesitated, but on Jane's curiously pressing her, she told them all that Mr. Wickham had mentioned about Miss Darcy.
Jonathan was much to be pitied during this revelation. The idea of Miss Darcy's being attached to another was painful enough, but the thought of her brother so destroying her happiness was too much to be borne.
"Impossible, Lizzy!" he cried, breaking away from them, agitated. "Mr. Darcy may be unpleasant, but he is always attentive to his sister's comfort."
"Why would Mr. Wickham lie to me?" Elizabeth asked indignantly.
"Why did he tell you this at all?" her brother demanded. "Why expose himself to a complete stranger? It seems very forward and impertinent of him."
"I think it proves him to possess a frank, open temper," Elizabeth said, bristling. "He saw my confusion and sought to relieve it."
"I don't like it at all," Jonathan said, shaking his head vigorously. "And you, Lizzy! I am surprised at how quickly you believe this complete stranger! You have no idea what sort of man he is. He might be a rakehell for all any of us knows."
"That is most unkind of you, Jon," Jane interrupted. "You can have no notion of Mr. Wickham's being anything but respectable."
"Jane is right, Jon," Elizabeth said quietly. "I know where this stems from."
"What in Heaven's name are you talking about?"
"I know you are fond of Miss Darcy, Jon. But you cannot be angry at me because it appears her affections are already engaged..."
"As to that, we have no evidence," Jonathan said, neatly refusing to confirm or deny his affection for Miss Darcy. "We have only the word of a man whom we have just met. Elizabeth, I cannot believe that you, my skeptical sister, have so completely and unquestioningly believed this man. The fact is that Mr. Darcy has never singled you out or paid you the least bit of attention, and Mr. Wickham has."
"I will not have that, Jonathan Thomas Bennet," Elizabeth said, her face reddening. "I have good and sound reasons for believing Mr. Wickham, not the least of which is this note that I received this very morning from Georgiana Darcy herself. She tells me that she is even now gone to London without any intention of returning. You may read it yourself, if you like." With perhaps a little more violence than necessary, she thrust Georgiana's note into her brother's hands.
Jonathan read the note in silence, but Jane read over his shoulder, and when they had finished the note, Jane said what Jonathan could not.
"This is most difficult indeed! It is very distressing! One does not know what to think."
"I beg your pardon; one knows exactly what to think." Elizabeth, agitated, paced back and forth along the path.
"This..." Jonathan said, in a somewhat less steady voice than before, "this cannot mean what we think it means. Surely, there is some other explanation. Until we have further proof..."
"How can you expect Elizabeth to furnish proof, Jon?" Jane asked with gentle reproach. "It is not rational."
"If you must have further evidence, Jon, I shall give it," Elizabeth sighed. "Georgiana told me of the affair herself."
Of a sudden, Jonathan found that his legs would no longer support him, and he was obliged to take advantage of a nearby bench. "Told you? Everything?"
"Well," Elizabeth paused, "not everything, but she would have if she had gone uninterrupted. She admitted to me that she could stop regretting a certain person in her past, and I am sure she would have told me more if Mrs. Hurst had not happened upon us."
This seemed too much for even Jonathan to contradict. In gloomy silence he studied the note, the elegant handwriting, the graceful turn of phrase, and could not help regretting its fair authoress. To entertain hopes of her, which he had somewhat vaguely, and against his better judgment, begun to do, now seemed hopeless and foolish.
"Jonathan," Elizabeth said gently, taking a seat beside him and placing her hand on his shoulder, "I know this must be a blow to you, and I wish with all my heart that I could soften it, but there is nothing to be done."
Jonathan was spared the necessity of making a reply by a housemaid who had been sent to inform them of the arrival of Mr. Bingley and his sisters. They had come to issue their personal invitation to the long-awaited Netherfield Ball, and as soon as the invitation had been issued, the ladies showed such eagerness to be off, despite their excessive happiness at seeing their dear friend Jane again, that Mrs. Bennet barely had time to express all her joy, or Mr. Collins his gratitude at being included in the invitation.
Everyone in the family expressed eminent satisfaction at the idea of a ball; that is, nearly everyone. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the company of her two friends, and enjoying the attentions of their brother. Elizabeth thought of dancing a good deal with Mr. Wickham, and although she wished his heart unengaged for her own sake as well as her brother's, she hoped that perhaps she could offer him some solace for his disappointed hopes, and rally his spirits into cheerfulness again. Kitty and Lydia were thrown into ecstasies at the mere mention of the ball, and although their hopes of happiness did not depend on one person alone, they also hoped to dance half the evening with Wickham. Mary could not but allow that an evening away from home could be desirable even to the steadiest of characters, and Mr. Collins could even own that he anticipated great enjoyment, and answered Elizabeth's query about his intention to dance, with a reassurance that he did not think a dance of this sort could have any evil tendency, and was most prompt in engaging her hand for the first two dances.
Elizabeth felt as if she had been duped. Defrauded of the very sets she had hoped to dance with Wickham! This offer also opened her mind to the possibility that she had been selected as worthy of Hunsford Parsonage and Rosings Park. The thought nearly made her ill, and she would have gone immediately to her brother to hear his opinion on the subject, if it had not struck her that Jon had rather enough to think of and worry over. Mr. Collins might never make an offer, and till he did, it was useless to involve her brother.
Jonathan alone had been able to regard the upcoming ball with indifference. A certain young lady was sure to be absent, and he could not bring himself to grow excited over an evening during which he would avoid the Bingley sisters, do his best to act civilly towards Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham without revealing his disgust for one and jealousy of the other, and dance with young women whom he had known all his life. Taken in this light, the subject of the ball was a melancholy one indeed!
As if to mirror his mood, it rained incessantly until the day of the ball. Confined for four days to a house full of women either excitedly preparing for the ball, or peevishly lamenting the rain that prevented any trips to Meryton, Mr. Bennet and Jonathan were sadly in need of entertainment. An occasional conversation with Mr. Collins supplied this want in a small way, but of some delights, it is very true that a little goes a very long way, and Jonathan was considering converting to Catholicism and entering a monastery, where he would hear no idle women's gossip or - thanks to the vow of silence - long, meaningless sermons from pompous fools. When he mentioned this plan to his father, Mr. Bennet merely laughed and said that if he became a monk, he would be forced to take a vow of celibacy also, and Jonathan replied, rather curtly, that at the moment the idea was not altogether without its merits. Mrs. Bennet, by an unfortunate chance, happened to overhear the remark, and Jonathan learned to long for the ball, if only to divert his mother's thoughts from the necessity of his marriage for a single day.
Chapter 16
Until Elizabeth entered the ball-room at Netherfield and searched in vain for Mr. Wickham among the redcoats there assembled, she had not felt a doubt of his being present. When he did not appear, she began to fear that he had purposely been excluded from the invitation for Mr. Darcy's pleasure, and though this was not the case, his absence was affirmed by his friend Captain Denny, who explained that Mr. Wickham had been called away on urgent business the day before, and was not expected back until the morrow.
"I dare say," Denny said with a smile, "that his business would not have called him away so soon, if not for the presence of a certain gentleman."
Lydia did not hear this addendum, but Elizabeth did, and it convinced her that Darcy was indeed no less blamable for Wickham's absence than she had at first supposed him to be. When he approached her soon afterwards, she could scarcely contain her disappointment and anger, and replied to his polite inquiries with cold civility. She then walked away from him as quickly as she could, for to spend another moment in his society was painful to her.
Wickham's absence was, for Jonathan, a sincere relief. He would be able to pass the time without any untimely surges of jealousy, and could look about him and observe as he liked; and the first thing he observed was something he had not expected to see: Mr. Darcy's admiration for his sister.
At first he thought he might be imagining it, but soon there could be no mistaking the expression on Darcy's face as he watched Elizabeth. She entered the room; he had been unable to tear his eyes from her. She smiled and laughed with an officer; he left his station near a candelabra and walked towards her as if drawn like a moth to a flame. She danced; he followed her progress down the set. She was unengaged; he - Jonathan, in conversation with Col. Forster, was so flabbergasted when he beheld it that he ceased talking in the middle of sentence - he asked her for a dance.
It was so. Mr. Darcy, who never danced with anyone but Mr. Bingley's sisters, and had openly opposed the ball in general, had asked Miss Elizabeth Bennet for a dance. When Jonathan recovered his composure enough to look about him, he found that he was not the only person shocked at this turn of events. Nearly every eye in the room was trained upon Mr. Darcy and his partner, and Elizabeth, Jonathan could tell, was well aware of it. Conflicting emotions played on her face: a serious dislike of her partner and reluctant pleasure at the ado she was inspiring.
He would not miss this conversation for the world! Hurriedly, he alighted upon a young woman he had not yet danced with and hurried to the set to stand near Elizabeth and Darcy. He reached them just as Elizabeth opened her mouth, and in-between dancing and polite conversation with his own partner, he managed to hear a good deal of their intercourse.
"I believe we must have some conversation, Mr. Darcy. A little will suffice. I will say something about the dance, and you should remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples."
Darcy's lips twitched with amusement as he replied, "Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?"
"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent together for half an hour, and yet conversation can be arranged so that one has the advantage of saying as little as possible."
Jonathan now moved away from his sister and her partner and devoted his attention to the young lady across from him. When he was within hearing distance of them again, he heard Darcy say politely, "Do you and your family often walk into Meryton?"
Jonathan nearly groaned aloud. Such a question was ill-suited to maintaining peaceful relations with Elizabeth. Elizabeth smiled rather maliciously as she replied,
"Yes, quite often. When you met us there the other day we had just been forming a new acquaintance."
Darcy's face grew very red, and he seemed to be struggling for words, until he finally replied, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends; whether he is equally capable of retaining them is less certain."
"Indeed," Elizabeth said, more coolly. "He has been so unlucky as to lose the friendship of you and Miss Darcy, and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."
Darcy, Jonathan saw, was utterly speechless. And a very unattractive shade of crimson. The dance separated them again, and when next Jonathan was near them, the dance was nearly over, and he heard Darcy say, in a frosty voice,
"May I ask to what these questions tend?"
"Merely to the illustration of your character. I am trying to make it out."
"And what is your success?"
"I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."
Was it Jonathan's imagination, or was Darcy grinding his teeth? "I can well believe that report may vary greatly with respect to me, and I would wish, Miss Elizabeth, that you would not attempt to sketch my character at the present moment. I fear the performance would reflect little credit on either of us."
"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity."
"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours."
The dance ended, and supper was announced. Jonathan let out a sigh of relief - one half of the horrid evening was over. He had seen Jane growing happier and happier over the course of the evening as Mr. Bingley's attentions seemed to grow more pronounced. Unfortunately, he noticed that his mother's thoughts were likewise engaged, and that Elizabeth sat near her and Mr. Darcy, looking mortified beyond expression.
As he circled the room, he saw Elizabeth leave Mrs. Bennet's side and come bearing down on him with a very sour look on her face. She took his arm and guided him a little away from the company.
"Insolent girl!" Elizabeth muttered when she was sure they would not be overheard.
"Who, Lizzy?" Jon asked.
"Miss Bingley," was the reply. "She thought it right to inform me of Mr. Wickham's dreadful character and unspeakable connections. Unfortunately for her, the only precise accusation she could make was his birth. It was all pride and assertion."
"What of Jane? Has she learned anything from Mr. Bingley?"
"Only what Mr. Darcy has told him. One may only guess how much that information is worth."
"What is our mother saying?"
"Oh, good Lord, Jonathan," Elizabeth whispered in embarrassed tones. "She will talk of nothing but Jane's supposed marriage to Mr. Bingley. She will not lower her voice for anything! I tried to ask her to quiet herself, but she simply will not."
When supper was over, singing was talked of, and Jonathan was mortified to see Mary, after very little persuasion, preparing to oblige the company. He glanced at Jane to see how she bore it, but Jane was in a happy little dream-world of her own. Elizabeth looked at him, biting her lower lip anxiously. Mary started well enough, but her voice was ill-suited to such displays. It was thin and weak, and her movements were affected. Elizabeth and Jonathan were in agonies till it was over, and then their pain was but partially relieved for a few moments, and then Mary consented to favour her audience again.
When Mary finished her second song, Jon looked to his father to urge immediate action. Unfortunately, Mr. Bennet took the hint rather too well.
"That will do extremely well, my child," Mr. Bennet said loudly. "You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit."
A hush fell over the assembly as Mr. Bennet's words rang through the room, and then Mary, fighting back tears, gathered her music and went to sit quietly at her mother's side. Mr. Collins, whom Jonathan had nearly forgotten about, now rose and began to state loudly that he found nothing objectionable in music, launching into a general sermon on the duties of a clergyman. He ended with a little bow to Mr. Darcy, which Jon did not understand. He looked to his sister for an explanation. She mouthed the words, "introduced himself."
Jonathan's eyes widened. "No!" he mouthed back.
Closing her eyes with a pained expression, she nodded morosely. Jonathan drew a hand over his eyes and contemplated that this evening could scarcely have been worse. Of a sudden, he heard his mother speaking again over the din of the crowd.
"Mr. Collins is such a sensible, respectable young man, and he's taken quite a fancy to Lizzy. And I don't think he could find a better wife. He favoured Jane at first, but, you know, Bingley was there before him."
Jonathan turned to his sister with mixed shock and anger. "Taken a fancy to you, has he?"
"Jon, no," Elizabeth said quietly. "It is nothing."
"The devil it is!" he answered. "How long has he been troubling you?"
"Truly, he only occasionally shows me any preference. He may never make the offer. It is useless to quarrel with him before he does."
"Why did you not tell me?"
"I rather thought you had enough to worry about."
"I am never too busy for you, Lizzy," he said firmly. "Or any of my other sisters, for that matter. I'll rot in he..."
"Jonathan!" Elizabeth sounded shocked.
"Er ... perdition ... before I see that toad marry you."
Elizabeth laughed, although her eyes shone with tears. "Oh, Jon, thank you. But I only want to go home! I've never been so miserable in my life."
At that moment Lydia tore through the room with Captain Denny in close pursuit; she was holding his saber high above her head, giggling and shrieking from the excitement of the chase. When finally Denny retrieved his weapon, Lydia collapsed into the nearest chair and ordered one of the young men around her to get her a drink. Jonathan closed his eyes in pain.
By some contrivance of Mrs. Bennet, the Longbourn family had to wait for their carriages for nearly a quarter of an hour after everyone else had gone. Never had Jonathan wished so ardently for an evening to end. However, Mrs. Bennet's object was attained - Mr. Bingley promised to take a family dinner with them as soon as he returned from London, whither he was obliged to go the next day on business. The carriages arrived, and Jonathan was beginning to be in good spirits again, if only because he was leaving the accursed house, when he saw Mr. Collins obsequiously handing Elizabeth into the carriage and stepping in after her. He ground his teeth. There was simply no possibility of Elizabeth marrying that man; he would make sure of it.