Beginning, Section II

Part I

Posted on 2014-12-04

Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him, and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Collins had followed him after breakfast, and there he would continue, nominally engaged with one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room in the house, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore, was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker than a reader, was extremely well pleased to close his large book, and go.

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 given him originally great humility of manner, but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her high rank and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and his rights as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.

Having now a good house and very sufficient income, he intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends -- of atonement -- for inheriting their father's estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own part.

His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet's lovely face confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what was due to seniority; and for the first evening she was his settled choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a quarter of an hour's tête-à-tête with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading naturally to the avowal of his hopes that a mistress for it might be found at Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. - "As to her younger daughters she could not take upon her to say - she could not positively answer - but she did not know of any prepossession; - her eldest daughter, she must just mention - she felt it incumbent on her to hint, was likely to be very soon engaged."

Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth - and it was soon done - done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course. Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of the day before was now high in her good graces.

In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them. But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with an officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny, concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger's air, all wondered who he could be, and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretence of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say, had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming.

His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty - a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation - a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat - a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? - It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.

In another minute Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave and rode on with his friend. Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of Mr. Philips's house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia's pressing entreaties that they would come in, and even in spite of Mrs. Philips' throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding the invitation.

Mrs. Philips was always glad to see her nieces, and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, as their own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing about, if she had not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop boy in the street, who had told her that they were not to send any more draughts to Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduction of him. She received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more, apologizing for his intrusion without any previous acquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself, however, might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced him to her notice. Mrs. Philips was quite awed by such an excess of good breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put an end to by exclamations and inquiries about the other, of whom, however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant's commission in the ----shire. She had been watching him the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed the windows now except a few of the officers, who in comparison with the stranger, were become "stupid, disagreeable fellows." Some of them were to dine with the Philipses the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Philips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr. Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless.

As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either or both, had they appeared to be wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her sister. Mr. Collins, on his return, highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs. Philips's manners and politeness. He protested that except Lady Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman; for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but had even pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although utterly unknown to her before. Something he supposed might be attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with so much attention in the whole course of his life.

As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and the girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room, that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in the house.

When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats, Mr. Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast parlour at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much gratification; but when Mrs. Philips understood from him what Rosings was, and who was its proprietor, when she had listened to the description of only one of Lady Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison with the housekeeper's room.

In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion, with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode and the improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until the gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs. Philips a very attentive listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she heard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as soon as she could. To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin, and who had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, and examine their own indifferent imitations of china on the mantelpiece, the interval of waiting appeared very long. It was over at last however. The gentlemen did approach; and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the ----shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the present party; but Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.

Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, and on the probability of a rainy season, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker.

With such rivals for the notice of the fair, as Mr. Wickham and the officers, Mr. Collins seemed likely to sink into insignificance; to the young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was, by her watchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin. When the card tables were placed, he had an opportunity of obliging her in return, by sitting down to whist. "I know little of the game, at present," said he, "but I shall be glad to improve myself, for in my situation of life - " Mrs. Philips was very thankful for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.

Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely for she was a most determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets, she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets and exclaiming after prizes, to have attention for anyone in particular. Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told, the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity however was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in an hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.

"About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand."

"Yes," replied Wickham;--"his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself - for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy."

Elizabeth could not but look surprised.

"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday. - Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"

"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth warmly,--"I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable."

"I have no right to give my opinion," said Wickham, "as to his being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him too long and to well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish - and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly anywhere else. - Here you are in your own family."

"Upon my word I say no more here than I might say in any house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably spoken of by anyone."

"I cannot pretend to be sorry," said Wickham, after a short interruption, "that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond their deserts; but with him I believe it does not often happen. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen."

"I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man."

Wickham only shook his head. "I wonder," said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, "whether he is likely to be in this country much longer."

"I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away when I was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the ----shire will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood."

"Oh! no--it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaim to all the world; a sense of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father."

Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented farther inquiry. Nevertheless she could not help but respect his integrity and said as much. "Such feelings are everything honourable, sir. I respect you for them."

That this appeared to disconcert him slightly, she noticed and Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter especially, with gentle but very intelligible gallantry. "It was the prospect of constant society, and good society," he added, "which was my chief inducement to enter the ----shire. I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me farther by his account of their present quarters, and the very great attentions and excellent acquaintance Meryton had procured them. Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment and society. A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it eligible. The church ought to have been my profession - I was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now."

"Indeed!" Elizabeth could not help a small feeling of amazement and displeasure. After expressing that he could not speak of those matters which were private to himself and Mr. Darcy, the gentleman was doing exactly that. What of his wish to forgive Mr. Darcy? It was rather disconcerting indeed. Her voice, she was pleased to note, only expressed her surprise, not her displeasure and Mr. Wickham appeared to take that as permission to continue.

"Yes - the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere."

It struck Elizabeth that Mr. Wickham had a story he wished to tell - why he would do so with her, she could not understand - and it seemed that only an outright dismissal would prevent him from doing so. Elizabeth suddenly found herself curious as to his story and motives and, as artlessly as she could, encouraged his efforts.

"Good heavens!" she cried; "but how could that be? - How could his will be disregarded? - Why did not you seek legal redress?"

"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it--or to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence, in short anything or nothing. Certain it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me."

'Extravagance! Imprudence! I wonder what this entails?' thought Elizabeth, 'there must be more than a warm temper involved.'

"This is quite shocking! - He deserves to be publicly disgraced." It seemed to Elizabeth that he needed less and less encouragement as the tale unfolded. A careful glance at his countenance suggested he was confident that she was accepting of his story.

"Some time or other he will be--but it shall not be by me. Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him."

Such feelings and the handsomeness of his countenance as he expressed them would, under other circumstances, have engendered a warm regard for Mr. Wickham; but the incongruity between his last avowal and his previous statements struck Elizabeth forcibly and she found herself at an even greater loss than before. He had averred a willingness to accept anything rather than disgrace his godfather's memory and just now stated that he would not expose the son due to his respect for the father. Yet had he not already done so with her? What was he about and what was she to make of it all? She had unknowingly been silent for several minutes, lost in thought, and Mr. Wickham, puzzled at her sudden silence, questioned her as to its cause.

"I do apologize - I was just considering what you have told me about Mr. Darcy. But what," said she , "can have been his motive? - what can have induced him to behave so cruelly?" Elizabeth found herself now wishing to hear more as to ascertain what else Mr. Wickham might disclose. That he was not being totally forthright she now felt certain but why he would favour her with his tale of woe she could not perceive and could not inquire of directly..

"A thorough, determined dislike of me - a dislike which I cannot but attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon attachment to me, irritated him I believe very early in life. He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood - the sort of preference which was often given me."

Elizabeth knew that she had too little knowledge of Mr. Darcy's character to determine the justice of such a reason and decided to temporize as best she could. A desire to terminate the discussion warred with a predilection to encourage Mr. Wickham to expose all such details as he was inclined to do. To do so she knew she would have to continue to feign belief - her distaste for Mr. Darcy she had no problem in exposing, little though she might credit Mr. Wickham's tale.

"I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this - though I have never liked him, I had not thought so very ill of him - I had supposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of descending to such injustice as this!"

After a few minutes reflection, however, she continued, "I do remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition must be dreadful."

"I will not trust myself on the subject," replied Wickham, " I can hardly be just to him."

Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, "To treat in such a manner, the godson, the friend, the favourite of his father! She added, "And one, too, who had probably been his own companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner!"

She wondered if she was appearing too gullible but apparently not and was rewarded as Mr. Wickham responded. "We were born in the same parish, within the same park, the greatest part of our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. My father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Philips, appears to do so much credit to - but he gave up everything to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged. himself to be under the greatest obligations to my father's active superintendence, and when immediately before my father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him, as of affection to myself."

"How strange!" cried Elizabeth. "How abominable! - I wonder that the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! - If from no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest, - for dishonesty I must call it." In fact, Elizabeth could not believe Mr. Darcy to act in such a manner. Nothing that she had observed indicated as much and could he have gained and retained the friendship of a man such as Mr. Bingley if his character would admit of such dishonesty? No, this could not be true but Mr. Wickham was not done.

"It is wonderful," replied Wickham, "for almost all his actions may be traced to pride; and pride has often been his best friend. It has connected him nearer with virtue than any other feeling. But we are none of us consistent; and in his behaviour to me, there were stronger impulses even than pride."

Elizabeth could not but remember Mr. Darcy's words about pride being under good regulation and while she might dispute his interpretation and application of it, she could not see him allowing his pride to lead him to commit such a patently dishonest and dishonourable action. If anything, it would not allow him to do so.

After several moments she prompted, "Can such pride as this, have ever done him good?"

"Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride, for he is very proud of what his father was, have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also brotherly pride, which with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers."

Elizabeth thought that if it was his pride that caused him to act in such a gentlemanly manner, then it was indeed under good regulation. The man who behaved so considerately and honourably with others could hardly, she thought, behave so poorly to Mr. Wickham. She had seen herself some small signs of his devotion to his sister and a question struck her.

"What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy,?"

He shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother - very, very proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father's death, her home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her education."

After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not help reverting once more to the first, and saying, "I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley, who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? - Do you know Mr. Bingley?"

"Not at all."

"He is a sweet tempered, amiable, charming man. He wo....cannot know what Mr. Darcy is." Elizabeth caught herself in time from expressing an opinion that Mr. Bingley would not associate with Mr. Darcy if the latter's character was so bad.

"Probably not;--but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversable companion if he thinks it worth his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His pride never deserts him; but with the rich, he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable, - allowing something for fortune and figure."

Of this Elizabeth could not disagree. It certainly conformed to her opinion of Mr. Darcy and his behaviour while in Hertfordshire could not give a lie to the claim. The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round the other table, and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips.--The usual inquiries as to his success were made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every point; but when Mrs. Philips began to express her concern thereupon, he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the least importance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged she would not make herself uneasy.

"I know very well, madam," said he, "that when persons sit down to a card table, they must take their chance of these things, and happily I am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding little matters."

Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relation were very intimately acquainted with the family of de Bourgh.

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she replied, "has very lately given him a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her notice, but he certainly has not known her long."

"You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy."

"No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before yesterday."

"Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates."

This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor Miss Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless her affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were already self-destined to another.

"Mr. Collins," said she, "speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman."

"I believe her to be both in a great degree," replied Wickham; "I have not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew, who chooses that everyone connected with him should have an understanding of the first class."

Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it - little though she could be sure that Mr. Darcy was so blind as to the understanding of his connections. He, after all appeared to know quite well the limitations of Miss Bingley's understanding. Mr. Wickham appeared disposed to talk of other matters and they continued talking together with mutual satisfaction till supper put an end to cards; and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr. Wickham's attentions. Elizabeth was not sorry to release him to their attentions. She had much to ponder and realized that doing so must await her return to Longbourn and the solitude of her room.

There could be no conversation in the noise of Mrs. Philips's supper party, but Mr. Wickham's manners recommended him to everybody. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done gracefully. Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. She could think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all the way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name as they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. Lydia talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the fish she had won, and Mr. Collins, in describing the civility of Mr. and Mrs. Philips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House of something more. It now first struck her that she was selected from among her sisters as worthy of being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors. The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed his increasing civilities toward herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than gratified herself by this effect of her charms, it was not long before her mother gave her to understand that the probability of their marriage was exceedingly agreeable to her. Elizabeth, however, did not choose to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him.

If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, the younger Miss Bennets would have been in a pitiable state at this time, for from the day of the invitation to the day of the ball, there was such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton once. No aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after; the very shoe-roses for Netherfield were got by proxy. Nothing less than a dance on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday endurable to Kitty and Lydia.

Even Elizabeth might have found some trial of her patience in weather if it had not provided the opportunity to consider carefully all that Mr. Wickham had revealed. After much thought she had come to several conclusions: that those issues which lay between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham were fully known to only them; that Mr. Wickham's story might have some truth but how much and in what particulars she could not say - that he was duplicitous in relating it to her, she was quite certain; and finally, that Mr. Darcy's character - although not one she admired - was not as black as Mr. Wickham had painted it. His reasons for prevailing upon her for the story she could not be certain of but it seemed to her that her initial expression of a dislike of Mr. Darcy had prompted it; but why he would do so remained unclear to her.

Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield and looked in vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a doubt of his being present had occurred to her. He had, when she remembered the brief exchange with Mr. Darcy, appeared to be have shown a touch of fear and if his story was malicious, she could well understand a reluctance to put himself in Mr. Darcy's way - particularly since that gentleman had seem quit angry and not at all afraid. The absolute fact of his absence was pronounced by his friend Mr. Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile, "I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here."

This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by Elizabeth, and she felt pleased that her conjectures had proven accurate and could not help but say, "This comes as no surprise to me." It appeared that Mr. Denny believed her to be in agreement with him and she was not inclined to correct his mistake.

Her satisfaction with the absence of Mr. Wickham was offset in equal measure by the presence of Mr. Darcy and she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make. She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away with a degree of ill humour, which she could not wholly surmount even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her.

But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and she would not allow her ire with Mr. Darcy to dwell long on her spirits; and having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular notice. The two first dances, however, brought a return of distress; they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn, apologizing instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy. She danced next with an officer, but could not avoid his talking of Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those dances were over she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of mind; Charlotte tried to console her.

"I dare say you will find him very agreeable."

"Heaven forbid! - That would be the greatest misfortune of all! - To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! - Do not wish me such an evil."

When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her, in a whisper, not to be a simpleton, and allow herself to appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man of such consequence. Elizabeth made no answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and reading in her neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with: "It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples."

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

"Very well. - That reply will do for the present. - Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. - But now we may be silent."

"Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?"

"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."

"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"

"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. - We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the éclat of a proverb."

"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine I cannot pretend to say. - You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."

"I must not decide on my own performance."

He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."

The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a constrained manner said, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends - whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."

"He certainly appears to have lost your friendship," replied Elizabeth with a slight smile, "and, if one is to believe him, in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."

Darcy made no answer and, after a brief considering glance at her, seemed desirous of changing the subject. At that moment Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. Darcy he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy, to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.

"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear Sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza (glancing at her sister and Bingley), shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy: - but let me not interrupt you, Sir. - You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me."

The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner, and said, "Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of."

"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. - We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine."

"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.

"Books - Oh! no. - I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings."

"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject.--We may compare our different opinions."

"No - I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else."

"The present always occupies you in such scenes - does it?" said he, with a look of doubt.

"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming, "I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."

"I am," said he, with a firm voice.

"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"

"I hope not."

"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."

"May I ask to what these questions tend?"

"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."

"And what is your success?"

She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you - and from sources that I cannot trust - as puzzle me exceedingly."

"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that reports may vary greatly with respect to me. I am pleased that you have recognized the ... untrustworthiness of some sources and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment. Such stories that have been vouchsafed to you should not be discussed in a setting such as this."

"True, true. And since you will probably be so little in this neighbourhood in the future, it must matter little to you how your name and reputation are slandered. And if it matters little to you, why should I be concerned. I will think on it no more."

"Would your neighbours credit such stories?" he asked gravely - a tinge of surprise in his voice.

"I have perhaps been in your company more than most and I was almost persuaded to believe Mr. Wickham. I have no doubt, given the opinions that you and my neighbours have of the other, that Mr. Wickham's tale will find fertile soil."

Mr. Darcy's surprise was complete and his haughty manner returned. Elizabeth could not be satisfied to leave matters thus. "You mentioned, sir, that Mr. Wickham's character is such as to lose friends. Are his actions such as to cause harm to others here?"

Mr. Darcy appeared to be first surprised and thoughtful at her question and was silent for several minutes until the dance brought them together once again. "It is possible." He ventured.

Elizabeth waited for a further response but finally, seeing that any expectations she might have as to him acting upon his knowledge were fruitless, said with a distinct coolness, "But I can see that our concerns are not of interest."

"There are, Miss Bennet, other concerns involved."

That he was unwilling to involve himself and the realization of her own powerlessness in the situation caused a strong feeling of displeasure and she snapped, "How convenient!"

She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in silence; on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon for her intrusion - slight though it was - into his private affairs, and directed all his anger against another.

They had not long separated when Miss Bingley came towards her, and with an expression of civil disdain thus accosted her, "So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham! - Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand questions; and I find that the young man forgot to tell you, among his other communications, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy's using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has been always remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated Mr. Darcy, in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother thought he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way. His coming into the country at all, is a most insolent thing indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite's guilt; but really, considering his descent one could not expect much better."

"His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same," said Elizabeth with amusement; "for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself. His other tales of misfortunes are not such as to involve my concern."

"I beg your pardon," replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer. "Excuse my interference. - It was kindly meant."

"Insolent girl!" said Elizabeth to herself. "You are much mistaken if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and malice towards me." She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening. Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment everything else gave way before the hope of Jane's being in the fairest way for happiness.

"I want to know," said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her sister's, "what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person, in which case you may be sure of my pardon."

"No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has received; and I am sorry to say that by his account as well as his sister's, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's regard."

"Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?"

"No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton."

"This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am perfectly satisfied. But what does he say of the living?"

"He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left to him conditionally only."

"I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity," said Elizabeth warmly; "but you must excuse my not being wholly convinced by assurances only. Mr. Bingley's defence of his friend was a very able one I dare say, but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt the rest from that friend himself, I am no further advanced in my understanding of the matter and left still to think of both gentlemen as I did before."

She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Bingley's regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence in it.

On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery.

To Elizabeth it appeared, that, had her family made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit, or finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sister that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he must have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations was bad enough, and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable. To watch her youngest sisters sport so brazenly and with so little propriety throughout the evening, to have to endure Mary's misguided attempts to perform on the pianoforte, to witness her father's improper regulation of Mary's behaviour, to have to listen to her mother's blatant and presumptuous public boasting of Jane's marriage prospects and to have Mr. Collins show himself as everything thing that was foolish and obsequious in front of the Bingley sisters and Mr. Darcy would, if her dances with Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy had not already done so, removed any possibility for enjoyment.

The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though he could not prevail with her to dance with him again, put it out of her power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand up with somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room. He assured her that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it; that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to her, and that he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself.

She was at least free from the offence of Mr. Darcy's further notice; though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in it.

The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart; and by a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriages a quarter of an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to see how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her sister scarcely opened their mouths except to complain of fatigue, and were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing, threw a languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said nothing at all.

Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of "Lord how tired I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn.

When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn; and addressed herself particularly to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.

Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied; and quitted the house under the delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.

That Mr. Bingley seemed oblivious to all of her family's improprieties and thus unlikely to be reluctant to pursue an attachment to Jane was the only pleasure Elizabeth could take from the ball.

Part II

Posted on 2014-12-08

Elizabeth sat alone in her room contemplating the letter she had just finished penning to her Aunt Gardiner. She had needed to express all that had happened in the last weeks and had no other source. She had not written in any expectation of a resolution but simply to unburden herself since she had found no ear at Longbourn with whom she wished or trusted to share her thoughts. She perused it for the last time.

Longbourn House
Hertfordshire

Dear Aunt Gardiner,

I find myself very much in need of a sympathetic ear and for once I feel unable to burden my dear Jane since her distress is contributing to mine and I would not wish to add to hers. Even my father is of no assistance at this time since he views all the events with amusement, concerning himself not at all with that which distresses anyone in his house. I am sorry to speak so of my father but sometimes he distances himself from the turmoil of the house as to be insensible as to the events that unfold - a fact which plagues me greatly. I have wondered if anything short of a fire in his library would cause him concern. I will put my irritation with my father aside and relate those events which have so discomposed me.

I have finally received an offer of marriage. My mother's efforts were crowned with success and her pleasure was immense until she learned that I had refused it. Since then I have heard little but what an ungrateful child I was. But perhaps I should explain what happened. As you probably know, Mr. William Collins, our cousin and heir to Longbourn, visited us for a fortnight in November. His avowed purpose was to heal the breach between our two families and to do so by marrying one of my father's daughters. Mamma was quite happy to assist him in this matter and, between them, quite settled on myself as their choice - Jane being removed from such consideration because of the interest shown by Mr. Bingley (but more on that later). I, of course, was not consulted on the matter which was unfortunate since I had not known Mr. Collins above five minutes when I determined I would never marry him. Why my mother would fix on me I cannot understand since Mary would have been the better choice and likely to have accepted him - poor girl. I say that because Mr. Collins is quite the most ridiculous gentleman I have had the misfortune to meet. He is not a sensible man and although a rector and possessed of a decent living, such attendance at a university as he did make was surely poorly spent since he shows little signs of having learned anything. His basic characteristics seem to be pomposity, conceit and an overwhelming deference for any person of greater consequence in the world - particularly one Lady Catherine de Bourgh who holds the living he serves. His obsequiousness is quite a marvel to endure I assure you.

The gentleman did settle on me as his future companion in life and did propose despite my most earnest efforts to avoid it altogether. It must have been the worst proposal that any woman had received. It took me several days to be able to view it with the humour it deserves which, since you know my nature, must tell how dreadful it was. I suppose I should respect his privacy and not relate the details of his offer but he was so insistent and ridiculous throughout that I feel little compunction on relating it to one who I am assured will respect my privacy if not his.

His wish to marry, I was assured, were at the express wish of Lady Catherine that he take a wife and since he was to inherit Longbourn, my lack of a dowry was of no concern. He wrapped this up in an excess of verbiage and then, without actually proposing, appears to have assumed that we were engaged. I very quickly attempted to correct his misapprehension. It proved to be a truly difficult undertaking and I will not belabour you sensibilities by relating all of the details. He crowned his efforts by asserting that I could assuredly not be serious in rejecting his offer since it was unlikely I would ever receive another. Even if true - which it may well be - it certainly does nothing to recommend a gentleman to a lady he wished to marry. I was required to state my refusal no less than five times and eventually leave the room before he believed me. Even then I suspect it was only Mamma's reaction that convinced him of my resolve. Mamma's application to my father to force me to accept was soundly rejected - thank heavens for that at least - and his manner of doing so was the only aspect that I found amusing at the time. Mamma, you see, had said she would no longer speak to me if I refused - a promise which lasted no longer than her next breath. Papa said to me, and I quote, 'An unhappy alternative is before you. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. - Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.' My mother, as you can imagine, was most unhappy and spared no effort in expressing that to me and to anyone else who came within her presence.

Now comes the amazing and, to me at least, the most discommoding part of the whole situation. Mr. Collins, within a day of two of my rejecting his suit, offered for and was accepted by Charlotte Lucas who, I have come to believe intentionally sought his attentions by inviting him to dine with the Lucases that very day. The removal of his presence was a relief but such an outcome can hardly be viewed with anything other than concern. Unfortunately I was not able to hide my distress and disbelief from Charlotte when she informed me of her decision. I have never thought well of Mr. Collins and now I am finding it hard to think well of Charlotte. That she accepted him for purely prudent reasons - to secure herself a home and relieve her family of the burden of her spinster status she admitted herself. While I have long realized that her stated opinions on marriage have never been mine, I had not expected that she would enter a marriage where there is such an inequality of sense and understanding. I would prefer almost anything than to be married to such a man. I am sure you can imagine my mother's distress - and my wish to avoid conveying a description of it - at the thought of Charlotte becoming the Mistress of Longbourn and with me for refusing Mr. Collins.

My dealings with Mr. Collins are the least of my worries now. Jane's happiness and hopes - which scant weeks ago seemed assured - now appear to have become as unlikely as a sign of intelligence in Mr. Collins. (I suppose I should stop abusing the poor man - perhaps I will start tomorrow.) Mr. Bingley, who we all thought had formed an attraction to Jane - he danced with her three times at the Ball - has left for London. While he initially indicated that his absence would be of a short duration, it now appears he has no intention of returning - or at least his sisters would have us believe it to be so. Miss Bingley wrote Jane a letter the day following the ball in which she intimated that they would not be returning. As well they suggested the Mr. Bingley had formed an attachment with Miss Darcy - the younger sister of Mr. Darcy. Jane, as ever most generous when considering the motives of others, would not credit these assertions as anything other than the absolute truth and felt she had misinterpreted Mr. Bingley's attentions. Indeed anyone who has ever seen them together, cannot doubt his affection. Miss Bingley I am sure cannot. She is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr. Darcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes; but none of my efforts to convince Jane of Mr. Bingley's affections met with any success and she could not credit Miss Bingley with any designs other than acting in her brother's interests. I, however, suspect that Miss Bingley views Jane's connections and lack of dowry as contrary to Miss Bingley's designs to attach Mr. Darcy to herself. That gentleman has made his distaste for our family and Hertfordshire in general quite clear.

While I was quite convinced at first that Mr. Bingley would return - his attachment to Jane was obvious to anyone with eyes - I am no longer as sanguine. I cannot, with the passage of a fortnight, now help but believe that the united efforts of his unfeeling sisters and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss Darcy (although we have only Miss Bingley's word on this) and the amusements of London, might be too much for the strength of his attachment. My fears that we should see Mr. Bingley no more this winter were confirmed by a second letter from Miss Bingley. I am now convinced of her machinations and that my sister's tender heart has been broken. My mother, of course, laments his departure with great regularity which no doubt adds to Jane's distress. Our father takes his usual amusement from it all. His form of consolation is to congratulate Jane for being crossed in love. After all, according to my father, next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. Apparently it gives her something to think of and a sort of distinction among her companions. For my part I am much disappointed in Mr. Bingley. His want of resolution and the impropriety - the caprice I might almost say - of his addresses to Jane cannot recommend him to me. Jane is more charitable and takes the fault to herself and believes it to have not been more than an error of fancy on her side, and that it has done no harm to anyone but herself. She is much too good.

I can say no more on this issue. I have related them only as to relieve my own frustration. I would welcome your thoughts but they can await your visit at Christmas. You can be assured of a warm welcome and much to talk about with us all. Unfortunately good news will be scarce indeed. This brings up a more serious and puzzling problem and on this I would wish your consideration and advice when you arrive. It concerns Mr. Darcy and a Mr. Wickham who has lately joined the ____shire Militia.

Mr. Darcy I have already mentioned. He is a most disagreeable man, replete with pride, arrogance, conceit and a very selfish disdain - which he did not scruple to hide - for all outside his own party. Mr. Wickham - who is from Derbyshire as is Mr. Darcy - is a handsome, amiable gentleman who claims to have been injured in some dealings with Mr. Darcy, the particulars of which he revealed to me the first occasion of our acquaintance. The impropriety of his doing so only occurred to me later and, if he had not sworn that he would not speak against Mr. Darcy before doing exactly that, I might well have given credit to his story. He is a most creditable gentleman and, it appears, a proficient liar. The problem is that I have no idea of the truth of the issue between Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy and it now appears that a story confined solely to myself has, with the departure of Mr. Darcy, become more widespread.

I did attempt to confront Mr. Darcy with Mr. Wickham's story but his response was quite unhelpful although seemingly to justify my concerns about Mr. Wickham's character. Mr. Darcy would only state that Mr. Wickham was unable to retain people's good opinion once it had been given. He did confirm that my suspicions were not without foundation and that Mr. Wickham could cause some harm to my neighbours. When I pressed him about the latter, his disdain was evident and I had to be satisfied with his assertion that there were other factors to be considered. You can imagine how unhappy I am. I have spoken to my father but he is unwilling to undertake any action. I am not sure he gives any credit to my concerns and you know his reluctance to involve himself with matters outside his library. That he dislikes Mr. Darcy may have some bearing on his disinterest as well although he has met the gentleman only rarely.

Perhaps I am unwise to involve myself in this matter and I have made every effort to discourage Mr. Wickham's attentions; however, my younger sisters are quite enamoured of him and he is a frequent visitor to Longbourn. I would be interested in your opinions on the gentleman since I expect he will call on us during your visit. His creditability suffered, in my eyes at least, with a further contradiction. After stating that he would not avoid Mr. Darcy, he did not attended the Netherfield Ball to which he and the other officers had been invited. When I spoke to him a day or so later, he claimed to have chosen not to attend to avoid any unpleasantness for his host Mr. Bingley. Since Mr. Darcy did not behave improperly when he unexpectedly met Mr. Wickham in Meryton, I cannot believe he would do so at a ball where others were present. It seems more likely that Mr. Wickham was reluctant to face Mr. Darcy, a reluctance - almost fear I might surmise - that he first showed when they met in Meryton.

Have I plagued you enough? I thank you for your forbearance. It was most kindly done on your part, I assure you and badly done on mine I suspect. I have need of a confidante and have chosen to unburden myself to the wisest and most sensible of my advisors.

Your bemused an bedlam-bound niece,

Elizabeth

With Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth could not be comfortable. His company did serve to dispel some of the gloom that pervade Longbourn. Kitty and Lydia took much pleasure in inviting him and Mrs. Bennet was always eager for his company, perhaps in the hope he might attach himself to one of her daughters. That he was determined to build upon the approbation he believed he had discerned in Elizabeth, she was not long in doubt. On the first occasion of his being invited to Longbourn, he had come to sit by Elizabeth and to engage her in conversation. The first topic addressed was the Netherfield Ball and his excuses for his absence were given and coolly received. If he was surprised to be denied more appreciation for his forbearance in avoiding any unpleasantness by not attending, such as he received was tendered by Lydia. For her part, Elizabeth had confined herself to a slight purse of her lips which Mr. Wickham, by dint of looking at Lydia, missed altogether. His next comment was addressed to Elizabeth.

"I suppose Mr. Darcy was his usual proud, aloof self?"

Elizabeth admitted as much but Lydia interjected, "He did ask Lizzy to dance and she agreed. And she had vowed never to dance with him. What a laugh!"

Mr. Wickham looked surprised, "He asked you to dance. A singular honour indeed. Whatever could he mean by it, I wonder?"

Elizabeth answered civilly, although it as a question she had wondered herself, "I admit to some surprise."

Seeing Mr. Wickham look thoughtful, she added, "He is an excellent dancer."

"I suppose he was silent throughout. His conversation is always quite limited away from those he considers his peers."

Elizabeth took some moments to frame her answer. She had begun to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted her, an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. In his present behavior to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure, for those attentions which had marked their initial acquaintance could only serve, after what she had since come to believe of him, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in finding herself thus selected as the object of such idle and frivolous gallantry; and while she steadily repressed it, could not but feel the reproof contained in his believing that her vanity would be gratified and her preference secured at any time by his attentions. Though she had first wished to discourage Mr. Wickham without alarming him as to her suspicions, she no longer concerned herself in that respect. "We had some conversation. After all one cannot dance for thirty minutes with someone without saying something."

"Indeed!" cried Wickham with a look which did not escape her. "And pray may I ask - ?" but checking himself, he added in a gayer tone, "You do not appear displeased by his asking you to dance. Is it in address that he improves? Has he deigned to add ought of civility to his ordinary style? For I dare not hope," he continued in a lower and more serious tone, "that he is improved in conversability. Pray, what did you talk of?"

"Well, he was much as he ever was although he did mention your name."

While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether to rejoice over her words, or to distrust their meaning. There was a something in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive and anxious attention, "My name! Indeed! And what did he accuse me of?"

"Accuse you? Of what could he accuse you, sir? Are you not the injured party?"

Elizabeth's teasing tone belied her answer and she could see Wickham relaxed, if only slightly. That he would respond so to such innocuous phrases worried her but not so much as to make her reluctant to tease him a little further.

"He did say that you had the happy knack of making friends but had encountered some problem in keeping them." She waited for a few seconds before affording him an arch look and saying, "I am of the opinion that one should not be too ready to decide on one side or the other in cases such as this."

Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated look; for a few minutes he was silent; till, shaking off his embarrassment, he turned to her again, and said in the gentlest of accents, "He has given you reason to doubt my word?"

Elizabeth was getting a little fatigued with this fencing and was less concerned to placate Mr. Wickham, "No sir, that task was accomplished by yourself. Mr. Darcy only confirmed that my suspicions were not unfounded."

"Myself?"

"Would not your suspicions be awakened if a gentleman told you he would not slander another man because of his affection for that man's father and then proceeded to do so?"

Elizabeth could see that Wickham appeared very uncomfortable with this line of conversation and quickly began paying easy compliments to her. Her reception of them was pleasant but she gave no sign of appreciating such attention and within a few minutes he seized the opportunity of Lydia's asking him a question to move and sit beside her. The rest of the evening passed with the appearance, on his side, of usual cheerfulness, but with no farther attempt to distinguish Elizabeth; and they parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again though both knew that to be impossible.

Their subsequent meetings were much of the same and it became quickly obvious that Wickham's attentions were, to the delight of Lydia and other young girls, not directed towards Elizabeth and, if they had been at all attentive, they could have easily discerned that he was in fact avoiding her company. During this time the whole of what Elizabeth had already heard - his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him - was now acknowledged and publicly canvassed; and everybody was pleased to think how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they had known anything of the matter.

Miss Bennet and increasingly Elizabeth, were the only creatures who could suppose that there might be any extenuating circumstances in the case unknown to the society of Hertfordshire: Jane's mild and steady candour always pleaded for allowances while Elizabeth only suggested that, her dislike of Mr. Darcy notwithstanding, she had no reason to believe him to be so dishonourable. By everyone else Mr. Darcy was condemned as the worst of men.

Some days later Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receiving her brother and his wife, who came as usual to spend the Christmas at Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatly superior to his sister, as well by nature as education. The Netherfield ladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man who lived by trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been so well bred and agreeable. Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger than Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant woman, and a great favourite with all her Longbourn nieces. Between the two eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a very particular regard. They had frequently been staying with her in town.

The first part of Mrs. Gardiner's business on her arrival, was to distribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. When this was done, she had a less active part to play. It became her turn to listen. Mrs. Bennet had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. They had all been very ill-used since she last saw her sister. Two of her girls had been on the point of marriage, and after all there was nothing in it.

"I do not blame Jane," she continued, "for Jane would have got Mr. Bingley, if she could. But, Lizzy! Oh, sister! it is very hard to think that she might have been Mr. Collins's wife by this time, had not it been for her own perverseness. He made her an offer in this very room, and she refused him. The consequence of it is, that Lady Lucas will have a daughter married before I have, and that Longbourn estate is just as much entailed as ever. The Lucases are very artful people indeed, sister. They are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of them, but so it is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted so in my own family, and to have neighbours who think of themselves before anybody else. However, your coming just at this time is the greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us, of long sleeves."

Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news had been given before, in the course of Jane and Elizabeth's correspondence with her, made her sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her nieces, turned the conversation. When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. "It seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane," said she. "I am sorry it went off. But these things happen so often! A young man, such as you describe Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty girl for a few weeks, and when accident separates them, so easily forgets her, that these sort of inconstancies are very frequent."

"An excellent consolation in its way," said Elizabeth, "but it will not do for us. We do not suffer by accident. It does not often happen that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of independent fortune to think no more of a girl, whom he was violently in love with only a few days before."

"But that expression of "violently in love'' is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings which arise from an half-hour's acquaintance, as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how violent was Mr. Bingley's love? Your letter could tell me only little."

"I never saw a more promising inclination. He was growing quite inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he offended two or three young ladies by not asking them to dance, and I spoke to him twice myself without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?"

"Oh, yes! - of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor Jane! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get over it immediately. It had better have happened to you, Lizzy; you would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think she would be prevailed on to go back with us? Change of scene might be of service - and perhaps a little relief from home, may be as useful as anything."

Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased with this proposal, and felt persuaded of her sister's ready acquiescence.

"I hope," added Mrs. Gardiner, "that no consideration with regard to this young man will influence her. We live in so different a part of town, all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go out so little, that it is very improbable they should meet at all, unless he really comes to see her."

"And that is quite impossible; for he is now in the custody of his friend, and Mr. Darcy would no more suffer him to call on Jane in such a part of London - ! My dear aunt, how could you think of it? Mr. Darcy may perhaps have heard of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he would hardly think a month's ablution enough to cleanse him from its impurities, were he once to enter it; and depend upon it, Mr. Bingley never stirs without him."

"So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But does not Jane correspond with the sister? She will not be able to help calling."

"She will drop the acquaintance entirely."

But in spite of the certainty in which Elizabeth affected to place this point, as well as the still more interesting one of Bingley's being withheld from seeing Jane, she felt a solicitude on the subject which convinced her, on examination, that she did not consider it entirely hopeless. It was possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that his affection might be re-animated, and the influence of his friends successfully combated by the more natural influence of Jane's attractions. Miss Bennet accepted her aunt's invitation with pleasure; and the Bingleys were no otherwise in her thoughts at the time, than as she hoped that, by Caroline's not living in the same house with her brother, she might occasionally spend a morning with her, without any danger of seeing him.

The Gardiners stayed but a week at Longbourn; and what with the Philipses, the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its engagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainment of her brother and sister, that they did not once sit down to a family dinner. When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always made part of it, of which officers Mr. Wickham was sure to be one; and on these occasions, Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspicious by Elizabeth's concerns of him, narrowly observed him.. She could not, from what she saw, see anything to confirm or refute Elizabeth's charges against him; however, from observing his behaviour with Lydia, though not believing her to be very seriously in love, her preference for him was plain enough to make her a little uneasy; and she resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject before she left Hertfordshire.

To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of affording pleasure, unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago, before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that very part of Derbyshire to which he belonged. They had, therefore, many acquaintance in common; and, though Wickham had been little there since the death of Darcy's father, five years before, it was yet in his power to give her fresher intelligence of her former friends, than she had been in the way of procuring. Mrs. Gardiner had seen Pemberley, and known the late Mr. Darcy by character perfectly well. Here, consequently, was an inexhaustible subject of discourse. In comparing her recollection of Pemberley with the minute description which Wickham could give, and in bestowing her tribute of praise on the character of its late possessor, she was delighting both him and herself. On being made acquainted with the present Mr. Darcy's treatment of him, she tried to remember something of that gentleman's reputed disposition, when quite a lad, which might agree with it, and was confident at last that she recollected having heard Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured boy.

The night before the Gardiners were to leave, Elizabeth sought out her aunt for a private conversation. That lady had also been seeking the same and so they met late that evening in Elizabeth's room. Mrs. Gardiner spoke first, "Lizzy, I am a little concerned about Lydia's attraction to Mr. Wickham. If it had been yourself, I would not worry about the possibility of improper behaviour. With Lydia ..."

"I have noted her partiality although I do not see that he favours her above anyone else."

"Perhaps, I could not detect anything in his manner that would support your concerns but I should not expect to perhaps."

"Perhaps it will be as well, if you can discourage his coming here so very often."

"Unfortunately those invitations are mostly extended by Lydia" protested Elizabeth; "I agree it will be wise to discourage her from doing so though she listens to my counsel but rarely. But do not imagine that he is always here so often. It is on your account that he has been so frequently invited this week. You know my mother's ideas as to the necessity of constant company for her friends. Mrs. Gardiner sat calmly as she watched Elizabeth pondering some matter.

"Aunt, a thought occurred to me when I heard you discussing Lambton with Mr. Wickham. Do you not still have acquaintances there?"

"Yes, although I have not had contact with them for ten years or more." She paused, "You wish me to contact them?"

Elizabeth assented suggesting that they might have further information, possibly on Mr. Wickham and certainly on Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Gardiner agreed to attempt to reacquaint herself with them and on this note they separated to seek their sleep.

Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshire soon after it had been quitted by the Gardiners and Jane; but, as he took up his abode with the Lucases, his arrival was no great inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. His marriage was now fast approaching, and she was at length so far resigned as to think it inevitable, and even repeatedly to say in an ill-natured tone that she "wished they might be happy." Thursday was to be the wedding day, and on Wednesday Miss Lucas paid her farewell visit; and when she rose to take leave, Elizabeth, ashamed of her mother's ungracious and reluctant good wishes, and sincerely affected herself, accompanied her out of the room. As they went down stairs together, Charlotte said, "I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Eliza."

"That you certainly shall."

"And I have another favour to ask. Will you come and see me?"

"We shall often meet, I hope, in Hertfordshire."

"I am not likely to leave Kent for some time. Promise me, therefore, to come to Hunsford."

Elizabeth could not refuse, though she foresaw little pleasure in the visit.

"My father and Maria are to come to me in March," added Charlotte, "and I hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, you will be as welcome to me as either of them."

The wedding took place; the bride and bridegroom set off for Kent from the church door, and everybody had as much to say or to hear on the subject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend; and their correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; that it should be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth could never address her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over, and, though determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for the sake of what had been, rather than what was. Charlotte's first letters were received with a good deal of eagerness; there could not but be curiosity to know how she would speak of her new home, how she would like Lady Catherine, and how happy she would dare pronounce herself to be; though, when the letters were read, Elizabeth felt that Charlotte expressed herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighbourhood, and roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine's behaviour was most friendly and obliging. It was Mr. Collins's picture of Hunsford and Rosings rationally softened; and Elizabeth perceived that she must wait for her own visit there, to know the rest.

Jane had already written a few lines to her sister to announce their safe arrival in London; and when she wrote again, Elizabeth hoped it would be in her power to say something of the Bingleys. Her impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as impatience generally is. Jane had been a week in town, without either seeing or hearing from Caroline. She accounted for it, however, by supposing that her last letter to her friend from Longbourn had by some accident been lost.

"My aunt," she continued, "is going to-morrow into that part of the town, and I shall take the opportunity of calling in Grosvenor-street."

She wrote again when the visit was paid, and she had seen Miss Bingley. "I did not think Caroline in spirits," were her words, "but she was very glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming to London. I was right, therefore; my last letter had never reached her. I enquired after their brother, of course. He was well, but so much engaged with Mr. Darcy, that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that Miss Darcy was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was not long, as Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I dare say I shall soon see them here."

Elizabeth shook her head over this letter. It convinced her that accident only could discover to Mr. Bingley her sister's being in town. Four weeks passed away, and Jane saw nothing of him. She endeavoured to persuade herself that she did not regret it; but she could no longer be blind to Miss Bingley's inattention. After waiting at home every morning for a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh excuse for her, the visitor did at last appear; but the shortness of her stay, and yet more, the alteration of her manner, would allow Jane to deceive herself no longer. The letter which she wrote on this occasion to her sister, will prove what she felt.

My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in her better judgment, at my expense, when I confess myself to have been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me. But, my dear sister, though the event has proved you right, do not think me obstinate if I still assert that, considering what her behaviour was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate with me but, if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should be deceived again.

Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday; and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the meantime. When she did come, it was very evident that she had no pleasure in it; she made a slight, formal, apology for not calling before, said not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in every respect so altered a creature, that when she went away I was perfectly resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, though I cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out as she did; I can safely say, that every advance to intimacy began on her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been acting wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her brother is the cause of it, I need not explain myself farther; and though we know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour to me; and so deservedly dear as he is to his sister, whatever anxiety she may feel on his behalf is natural and amiable. I cannot but wonder, however, at her having any such fears now, because, if he had at all cared about me, we must have met long, long ago. He knows of my being in town, I am certain, from something she said herself; and yet it should seem by her manner of talking, as if she wanted to persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I cannot understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should be almost tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicity in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful thought, and think only of what will make me happy: your affection, and the invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear from you very soon. Miss Bingley said something of his never returning to Netherfield again, of giving up the house, but not with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely glad that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at Hunsford. Pray go to see them, with Sir William and Maria. I am sure you will be very comfortable there.

Yours, &c.

This letter gave Elizabeth some pain; but her spirits returned as she considered that Jane would no longer be duped, by the sister at least. All expectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would not even wish for any renewal of his attentions. His character sunk on every review of it; and as a punishment for him, as well as a possible advantage to Jane, she rather hoped he might really soon marry Mr. Darcy's sister, as, by Wickham's account, she would make him abundantly regret what he had thrown away. However she could attach little credit to such accounts and remembering that Miss Darcy was but fifteen or sixteen years of age, rather thought the idea more a product of Miss Bingley's hopes and aspirations than any design of Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley..

Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Elizabeth of her promise concerning that gentleman, and required information; and Elizabeth had such to send as might rather give contentment to her aunt than to herself. His apparent partiality to Lydia, such as it was, had subsided, his attentions were over, he was the admirer of someone else. Elizabeth was watchful enough to see it all, but she could not see it and write of it without material concern. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most remarkable charm of the young lady to whom he was now rendering himself agreeable; but Elizabeth, as clear-sighted in his case as in Charlotte's, could not view his actions with anything but concern. That his motives were entirely mercenary, she could not doubt but that she could offer no means of warning the young lady, she knew with absolute assurance. Of what could she charge him that would be creditable to one who could accept his attentions without seeing the insincerity of them? She knew that if Lydia was in the happy possession of such a dowry, she would not accept any abridgement of her affections. That her father would consent to such a match Elizabeth was also certain, if only to rid himself of his least favoured daughter.

All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner; and after relating the circumstances, she thus went on: "My feelings are not cordial towards him; I am most concerned for Miss King. I cannot find that I blame her at all. Mr. Wickham has the most engaging manners; I think her a very good sort of girl but very, very foolish to accept his advances when he had shown no prior interest in her. There can be no love in all this. Kitty and Lydia take his defection very much to heart. They are young in the ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on, as well as the plain and mercenary motives can dictate the path that attachments follow.

It was around the end of February that Elizabeth received a letter from her aunt which, upon reading, caused her to seek audience with her father. Entering his study, she found him engaged, as was his usual wont, ensconced in his comfortable armchair in front of the fireplace and reading a philosophical treatise. His glance at her was, also as usual, rather absent-minded and she found that she had to speak more sharply than she had intended to gain his full attention.

"Papa, I have just received a letter from my Aunt Gardiner which I, and she, believe you must read."

Ignoring his raised eyebrows she removed the book from his hands - carefully marking the opened page - and replaced it with the letter and sat herself in the facing armchair. He was unable to mask his surprise at her peremptory actions but his objections were cut off by a crisp "Read it....please!"

Turning his attention to the letter he noted somewhat absently that it was written in his sister-in-law's neat hand and, as he read, he found his attention more closely fixed on the contents of the letter.

Gracechurch Street
London

Dear Lizzy,

I am writing to you as a matter of some urgency. At your request, I undertook to renew my former acquaintances in Lambton. I wrote to five of my former friends and was pleased to receive acknowledgements from three of them - you must remember it has been about ten years since I left Lambton and two of them have apparently married and left Lambton. I had received responses from two of them earlier this week and the contents of their letters was quite informative, there was no reason for particular urgency and I thought to wait for a few days more in the event I received additional letters. Today I received a letter from Mrs. Adele Sinclair - Adele Howard that was - which is most alarming and I thought it best to write immediately and impart the news that you - or rather your father - could act at once. In this I am seconded by your uncle who is fully apprised of the contents of all the letters I have received.

In summary Lizzy, it appears that Mr. Wickham is possessed of a most dissolute character. I have in on very good authority that about five years ago - when he was last in Lambton - he departed that place leaving behind considerable debts. The amount I cannot state but all three of my friends asserted this and two of them revealed that he left their husbands some fifty pounds poorer when he left. When apprised of the situation by the shopkeepers in Lambton who were requesting Mr. Wickham's address, Mr. Darcy admitted that he had lost contact with the gentleman but agreed to recompense all of them for Mr. Wickham's debts to the full amount owed stating that his connection to the Darcy family may have enabled him to incur such debts. Whatever the truth of the matter, it was a most honourable action on Mr. Darcy's part. The total amount that was paid is unknown but my friends believe that Mr. Darcy may have laid out several hundred pounds in total.

However, it is not this information - worrying as it is - that most concerns me. Adele Sinclair has informed me from personal knowledge that Mr. Wickham has not scrupled to compromise several young women in the area - a daughter of a shopkeeper in one case and two young servant girls, one of whom worked at Pemberley. Adele is not sure how much Mr. Darcy knows but of the girl who works for him, he has particular knowledge since it was by his means that she was provided for. Adele assures me of the verity of this information - she is involved in much charity work in Lambton - and, as well, the daughter of the shopkeeper was well known to her and since there were unfortunate circumstances arising as a result of Mr. Wickham's activities in all three instances with which she was familiar, it was difficult to keep the circumstances private.

Mr. Wickham should not be allowed in company with any decent young girl. As you are quite aware, his manners are engaging and he is quite able to fix the attentions of a young lady particularly if she is of an innocent and unsuspecting nature. Apparently all three of the girls in Lambton - there may well be more but they have remained silent - believed him to be offering marriage and believed only that they were anticipating their vows. He seems to have claimed that Mr. Darcy would provide a living to enable him to marry. I and your uncle are concerned for the safety of Lydia and Kitty who, from my observation at Christmas, appeared quite enamoured of Mr. Wickham. I realize his purported attentions to Miss King would seem to preclude his attending them or they, him; but I would not wish to be so sanguine on the matter. Mr. Wickham should be shunned by all decent families in Hertfordshire. I would be particularly concerned for Miss King, since her situation could be dire. Mr. Wickham's motives cannot be viewed as anything other than mercenary and her fortune is the main attraction.

I will not attempt to instruct you or your father on the appropriate measures to take but warning the family of Miss King and the Colonel of Mr. Wickham's regiment would seem necessary. Your uncle has suggested that your mother and Mrs. Philips be informed of the particulars. Once done, he believes you can be assured that all of Meryton will know of Mr. Wickham's character within two days. I am not disposed to disagree with him.

Yours,
M. Gardiner

Mr. Bennet was sufficiently disturbed by what he had read, to submit it to a second perusal; once that was complete, he sat in a thoughtful silence for several minutes before speaking to Elizabeth.

"I no long wonder at your concerns, Lizzy and congratulate you on your discernment of last fall. I admit to a rather fond regard for Mr. Wickham on my part and to be proven so very wrong is rather...humiliating I find."

Elizabeth admitted that she had herself nearly accepted Mr. Wickham's tale without reservation if he had not contradicted himself twice in the telling of it.

"Well Lizzy, I find your uncle's advice quite interesting. He knows his sisters all too well. The duplicity of the scheme I find extraordinarily diverting. I shall provide this letter to your mother today. I am sure she will want to share it with her sister rather soon."

"What about Miss King, Papa?"

"If your mother and her sister quite sink Mr. Wickham's reputation as quickly as I suspect, we will not have to worry overly much or long about any purported engagement."

"And the shopkeepers?"

"Hhmm! The rumours should have a similar effect on them as well."

Elizabeth agreed but suggested that a warning to Colonel Forster would be a civil action and he might be disposed to ensure that Mr. Wickham settled his accounts properly. To this Mr. Bennet reluctantly agreed although such exertion was beyond his usual habit and the morrow did indeed see him visit the Colonel and reveal the contents of Mrs. Gardiner's letter. He was able to relate satisfactorily to Elizabeth that the Colonel was quite disturbed at the information imparted and had been convinced to confine Mr. Wickham to his quarters until the issues had been more fully investigated.

That Mr. Wickham was no longer received in any of the homes in Meryton became widely known within a week; his engagement to Miss King broken and the young lady removed from the area by her uncle followed not long after. If Miss King's affections suffered as a result, it was more generally agreed that she was fortunate indeed to have escaped an attachment to such a scoundrel. Captain Denny was overheard, several days following Mr. Bennet's visit to Colonel Forster, to speak of Mr. Wickham's arrest.

Some weeks later the Colonel was to visit Mr. Bennet to inform him, because of his instrumentality in making him aware of Mr. Wickham's misdeeds, that that gentleman had been tried by court martial, found guilty and given the choice of joining the regulars and being shipped to Spain to fight there or being sent to Debtor's Prison where his debts would ensure his residence to be of no few years. Mr. Wickham chose to join the regulars and had already been sent on his way to Spain.

If Lydia and other young ladies were disheartened by his departure, their sorrows were of short duration. The attractions of other young gentleman in red coats, who possessed the advantage of being present and available to admire them, were sufficient to quite drive thoughts of Mr. Wickham from their minds. On Elizabeth's part, she felt little only relief that the matter had been resolved with so little damage to her neighbours - she had not heard of any seductions although she realized that some might not be known for some months yet since the consequences were not immediately obvious.

However the truth of the matter was that, after revealing to her father the contents of the letter from her aunt, she had been quite willing to leave responsibility for acting on those contents to others. She had a more pressing and personal concern for her aunt had enclosed with the letter outlining the perfidy of Mr. Wickham, another both private and addressing the issue of Mr. Darcy. After she had left her father and returned to her room, she read that letter once more.

Lizzie,

I am writing a separate note for you only since I am sure you would not wish to excite your mother's interest in the subject matter. After receiving the letters from my acquaintances in Lambton, I was particularly taken with a comment that one of them made to the effect that the worst they knew of Mr. Darcy was a reputation for pride which she was also honest enough to suggest was attributed to him mainly because Pemberley did little business in Lambton. In fact, I believe they deal mostly in Kympton. I was, as a consequence, minded to read once more all of your letters since Mr. Darcy came to Hertfordshire.

I think you should reconsider your opinion of Mr. Darcy. I know how stubborn you can be about your opinion of people but in this instance, it is my belief that you may be quite mistaken. I am not going to pretend that the behaviour of Mr. Darcy at your initial introduction was anything less than completely uncivil; however, it was not meant to be overheard and I am sure, given what you have otherwise related of his manners, that he would be acutely embarrassed if he knew you had heard it. I would ask you to consider putting this incident behind you and forget it was ever said, difficult though that may be.

You have held that against him long enough I believe and, if he once held the opinions expressed then, it is quite obvious to me from your own words that he no longer does so. I believe he finds you quite tolerable indeed. Would he have asked a young lady that he dislike and to whom he was indifferent to dance? How many other young ladies in Hertfordshire - apart from Mr. Bingley's sisters with whom he was obligated to dance - did he ask? I questioned Jane and her answer was none! He did not even ask your own sister, acclaimed beauty that she is, to dance. Only you Lizzy. Only you!

Another point I wish to suggest that you have misinterpreted is that he looks at you in disapproval, to criticize. I am sorry Lizzy but this is almost too laughable for words. A gentleman does not gaze frequently upon a young lady - nor a lady upon a gentleman - only too disapprove. If one disapproves, one avoids looking at the person much as one avoids the company of that person. I am convinced that, if Mr. Darcy is frequently looking at you, it is more likely due to admiration, not disgust or contempt.

Finally, I know you believe him to be involved in separating Jane from Mr. Bingley. I do not disagree but regardless of his involvement, the decision to not return to Hertfordshire must be held to the account of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Bingley alone. If Mr. Bingley's affections were truly engaged and he felt a strong affection for Jane then his absence reveals him to be seriously deficient in resolution, a character flaw of significance I believe. I would not want to see Jane attached to such a man - the circumstances of their marriage will emit of many instances where a want of resolution might be of major import. Alternately, if his attachment to Jane was not sufficient to survive an absence of a s'enight then once more Jane, despite the strength of her own affections, should not mourn his loss. To the point - I do not believe that Mr. Darcy, regardless of his involvement, should be held responsible for the separation of Jane and Mr. Bingley.

I do not ask, nor do I expect, you to change those opinions, which you have nurtured so vehemently for many months, on the morrow. I do ask that you consider Mr. Darcy's behaviour in a more favourable light. You may never be in his company again since you move in so very different spheres but should that occur or should you encounter those who are known to Mr. Darcy, it might be in your interest to - using your own words - begin a new sketch of his character if you encounter him or speak well of him to his acquaintances. I have reason to believe your past efforts are flawed.

I also hope that I have not affronted you too much and know that you remain my favourite niece.

M. Gardiner

Elizabeth held her aunt in too much esteem to ignore such a suggestion, reluctant though she was to do so but, once having admitted the possibility that her aunt's request was not unreasonable, her sense of justice required her to review her opinion. As she did so she found that her dislike of the gentleman was ameliorated to a considerable degree and that her understanding of his character quite deficient since she had, she realized, made little effort to discover it. Her own dislike had, she thought, prejudiced her interpretations of his actions and she could no longer rely on them. Unfortunately, she had little to replace them with and, as a consequence, found she knew less of Mr. Darcy than she previously believed.

That he contained a full measure of pride and disdain for the society of Meryton, she remained convinced. His attitude at the Assembly, those social occasions in which he participated, the Netherfield Ball all pointed to a great reluctance to converse and associate with that society. His haughty manner conveyed his disdain in a fashion that none could deny and his responses to her questions at the Ball seemed to suggest that he saw no necessity to involve himself in welfare of Meryton society which appeared to be based on his sense of superiority. Yes, Elizabeth thought. I believe him to be a proud, disagreeable man. That he was superior to those around him was not really at issue. His pride was perhaps justified to a large degree; his expression of it in the disdain he showed was at the heart of the matter. That such a man could have an attraction for her was a matter on which she was not able to reach a conclusion. Her belief in his dislike she now conceded may have been in error; he had dealt with her in a civil manner when she visited Netherfield and, if he had shown the occasional signs of anger, she recognized that her own impertinence had been intended to provoke just such a display. Indeed, when she thought on it further, he had invariably been more civil to her than she to him although hers had been masked by her teasing manner.

Her aunt's suggestion of a preference on his part she found hard to accept. Other than those glances which she was now prepared to concede may not have been indicative of his dislike, did not themselves reveal any particular interest. She could not fathom why he looked and certainly he had not paid her any particular attentions nor attempted to engage her in conversation although opportunities had presented themselves. This conclusion had no sooner been reached when she remembered that he had, prior to the Netherfield Ball, solicited her hand to dance not once, but twice and she had declined both requests. In either she believed him capable of not making the offer and could only now believe that he had done so in the expectation that she would accept. And yet, he had sat with her for a half hour complete and not made a single effort to converse with her. She could not grasp his intentions, if he had any, and certainly he had done nothing to raise any expectations on her part. She resolved to speak civilly of him in the future but, since she had no expectation of being in his company in the future, to think of him no more.

With such events as those related above and otherwise diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty and sometimes cold, did January and February pass away for the Longbourn family. March was to take Elizabeth to Hunsford. She had not at first thought very seriously of going thither; but Charlotte, she soon found, was depending on the plan, and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasure as well as greater certainty.

Absence had increased her desire of seeing Charlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There was novelty in the scheme; and as, with such a mother and such uncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little change was not unwelcome for its own sake. The journey would moreover give her a peep at Jane; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have been very sorry for any delay. Everything, however, went on smoothly, and was finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She was to accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement of spending a night in London was added in time, and the plan became perfect as plan could be. The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her, and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going that he told her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter.

Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a kind to make her think him less agreeable. Sir William Lucas and his daughter Maria, a good humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say that could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much delight as the rattle of the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but she had known Sir William's too long. He could tell her nothing new of the wonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities were worn out like his information.

It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it so early as to be in Gracechurch Street by noon.
As they drove to Mr. Gardiner's door, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival; when they entered the passage she was there to welcome them, and Elizabeth, looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful and lovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls, whose eagerness for their cousin's appearance would not allow them to wait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen her for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy and kindness.

The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle and shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres. Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first subject was her sister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to her minute enquiries, that though Jane always struggled to support her spirits, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, to hope, that they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner gave her the particulars also of Miss Bingley's visit in Gracechurch Street, and repeated conversations occurring at different times between Jane and herself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up the acquaintance.

Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham's fate, and complimented her on her role in bringing it about.

'My dear aunt, if you had not discovered, from your friends in Lambton, all that you related to me, nothing would or could have happened. I had nothing on which my father could act and he would not have done so for anything less than what you provided. It was all to your good graces that Wickham has been dealt with."

"Lizzy, I would never have acted if you had not pushed me to do so. The thought of soliciting information from those acquaintances would not have occurred to me."

"But, my dear Elizabeth," she added, "what sort of girl is Miss King? I should be sorry to think her heart was damaged by the loss of Mr. Wickham's attentions."

"I cannot say. She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her. Miss King has yet to return and it is possible that her heart was involved. We all know that Wickham has every charms of person and address that can captivate a woman."

"But he paid her not the smallest attention, till her grandfather's death made her mistress of this fortune."

"No indeed and that was, for me, a sure sign of his mercenary character. He had no occasion to making love to a girl whom he did not care about and who was poor until she came into her fortune."

"But there seems such an indelicacy, some obviousness to be sure, in directing his attentions towards her, so soon after this event which must have warned Miss King's family."

"Their not objecting to his attentions certainly shows a deficiency in something - sense or feeling."

"I cannot help but agree, Lizzy. I am sorry, you know, to think so ill of a young man who has lived so long in Derbyshire."

"Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men who live in Derbyshire; although I admit to a lessening of my dislike for one of those gentlemen. Thank Heaven! I am going tomorrow where I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who has neither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing, after all."

"Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly of disappointment."

Elizabeth was not sorry that her aunt had not questioned her further on Mr. Darcy and hoped her indication that she thought less poorly of him would satisfy her aunt's curiosity and let her know that she had acted on her thoughts about Mr. Darcy. Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had the unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in a tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer.

"We have not quite determined how far it shall carry us," said Mrs. Gardiner, "but perhaps to the Lakes."

No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and her acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. "My dear, dear aunt," she rapturously cried, "what delight! what felicity! You give me fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are men to rocks and mountains? Oh! what hours of transport we shall spend! And when we do return, it shall not be like other travellers, without being able to give one accurate idea of anything. We will know where we have gone--we will recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains, and rivers, shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations; nor, when we attempt to describe any particular scene, will we begin quarrelling about its relative situation. Let our first effusions be less insupportable than those of the generality of travellers."

Part III

Posted on 2014-12-12

Every object in the next day's journey was new and interesting to Elizabeth; and her spirits were in a state for enjoyment; for she had seen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health, and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight.

When they left the high-road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view. The palings of Rosings Park was their boundary on one side. Elizabeth smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants. At length the Parsonage was discerned. The garden sloping to the road, the house standing in it, the green pales and the laurel hedge, everything declared that they were arriving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at a small gate, which led by a short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of the whole party. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing at the sight of each other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend with the liveliest pleasure, and Elizabeth was more and more satisfied with coming, when she found herself so affectionately received. She saw instantly that her cousin's manners were not altered by his marriage; his formal civility was just what it had been, and he detained her some minutes at the gate to hear and satisfy his enquiries after all her family. They were then, with no other delay than his pointing out the neatness of the entrance, taken into the house; and as soon as they were in the parlour, he welcomed them a second time with ostentatious formality to his humble abode, and punctually repeated all his wife's offers of refreshment.

Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, its aspect and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her, as if wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. But though everything seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to gratify him by any sigh of repentance; and rather looked with wonder at her friend that she could have so cheerful an air, with such a companion. When Mr. Collins said anything of which his wife might reasonably be ashamed, which certainly was not infrequent, she involuntarily turned her eye on Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but in general Charlotte wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough to admire every article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to the fender, to give an account of their journey, and of all that had happened in London, Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the garden, which was large and well laid out, and to the cultivation of which he attended himself.

To work in his garden was one of his most respectable pleasures; and Elizabeth admired the command of countenance with which Charlotte talked of the healthfulness of the exercise, and owned she encouraged it as much as possible. Here, leading the way through every walk and cross walk, and scarcely allowing them an interval to utter the praises he asked for, every view was pointed out with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. He could number the fields in every direction, and could tell how many trees there were in the most distant clump. But of all the views which his garden, or which the country, or the kingdom could boast, none were to be compared with the prospect of Rosings, afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered the park nearly opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome modern building, well situated on rising ground.

From his garden, Mr. Collins would have led them round his two meadows, but the ladies, not having shoes to encounter the remains of a white frost, turned back; and while Sir William accompanied him, Charlotte took her sister and friend over the house, extremely well pleased, probably, to have the opportunity of showing it without her husband's help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency of which Elizabeth gave Charlotte all the credit.

When Mr. Collins could be forgotten, there was really a great air of comfort throughout, and by Charlotte's evident enjoyment of it, Elizabeth supposed he must be often forgotten. She had already learned that Lady Catherine was still in the country. It was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins joining in, observed, "Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honour of seeing Lady Catherine de Bourgh on the ensuing Sunday at church, and I need not say you will be delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, and I doubt not but you will be honoured with some portion of her notice when service is over. I have scarcely any hesitation in saying that she will include you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which she honours us during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Charlotte is charming. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never allowed to walk home. Her ladyship's carriage is regularly ordered for us. I should say, one of her ladyship's carriages, for she has several."

"Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed," added Charlotte, "and a most attentive neighbour."

"Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference."

The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire news, and telling again what had been already written - the fate and disposition of Mr. Wickham being of particular interest and Elizabeth's role therein; and when it closed, Elizabeth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon Charlotte's degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding, and composure in bearing with her husband, and to acknowledge that it was all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit would pass, the quiet tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious interruptions of Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of their intercourse with Rosings. A lively imagination soon settled it all.

About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole house in confusion; and after listening a moment, she heard somebody running up stairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened the door, and met Maria in the landing place, who, breathless with agitation, cried out, "Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make haste, and come down this moment."

Elizabeth asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing more, and down they ran into the dining room, which fronted the lane, in quest of this wonder; it was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at the garden gate.

"And is this all?" cried Elizabeth. "I expected at least that the pigs were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter!"

"La! my dear," said Maria quite shocked at the mistake, "it is not Lady Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them. The other is Miss De Bourgh. Only look at her. She is quite a little creature. Who would have thought she could be so thin and small!"

"She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind. Why does she not come in?"

"Oh! Charlotte says, she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favours when Miss De Bourgh comes in."

"I like her appearance," said Elizabeth, struck with other ideas. "She looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will do for him very well. She will make him a very proper wife."

Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at the gate in conversation with the ladies; and Sir William, to Elizabeth's high diversion, was stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the greatness before him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss De Bourgh looked that way. At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, and the others returned into the house. Mr. Collins no sooner saw the two girls than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which Charlotte explained by letting them know that the whole party was asked to dine at Rosings the next day.

Mr. Collins's triumph in consequence of this invitation was complete. The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his wondering visitors, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and his wife, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity of doing it should be given so soon was such an instance of Lady Catherine's condescension as he knew not how to admire enough.

"I confess," said he, "that I should not have been at all surprised by her Ladyship's asking us on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening at Rosings. I rather expected, from my knowledge of her affability, that it would happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this? Who could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine there (an invitation moreover including the whole party) so immediately after your arrival!"

"I am the less surprised at what has happened," replied Sir William, "from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, which my situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the Court, such instances of elegant breeding are not uncommon."

Scarcely any thing was talked of the whole day, or next morning, but their visit to Rosings. Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in what they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many servants, and so splendid a dinner might not wholly overpower them.

As Elizabeth gaily confessed to her sister, in the letter she wrote the following morning, the evening surpassed all of her expectations of impertinence, misguided condescension and foolish arrogance as would have delighted their father. She read her letter once more, hoping that she had conveyed her own appreciation of the pleasure of Lady Catherine's company.

Hunsford Parsonage
Kent

Dearest Jane,

I will not bore you with further evidence of our cousin's foolishness. My letter after I first arrived has, I hope, satisfied any cravings as you might unwisely suffer in that regard. As our father was wont to say, a little of Mr. Collins' company can suffice for several days, if not longer. I have already a surfeit and have been here but a few days. But enough of Mr. Collins. Last night we were privileged to dine with our cousin's patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

After being assured by our cousin that the lady would not think less of me if i was simply dressed since she likes the distinction of rank preserved, I resisted the temptation to wear my oldest gown, and satisfied myself with that light yellow one that I bought before Christmas. It hasn't been seen by the company here and must count as new I suppose. Dressing was quite an experience. I rather thought our Mama was present as our cousin must have urged me several times to hurry my dressing since Lady Catherine does not like to be kept waiting. Poor Maria was quite discomposed which, given her lack of sense, did not portend well for the evening.

Our cousin waxed rapturously as we walked the half mile to Rosings about the plentitude of windows and the cost of glazing as to quite upset Sir William and overset Maria altogether. For myself, I had heard nothing of Lady Catherine to inspire awe from any extraordinary talents or miraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money and rank I believed myself capable of witnessing without trepidation. Once we had arrived, our introduction was performed by Charlotte which I am assured must have shortened the time required by our cousin as those apologies and thanks were omitted which he believes so necessary.

Rosings is, I imagine, quite grand although I believe it gaudy and uselessly fine, meant to impress by a display of wealth with little true comfort or elegance. Sir William was so overwhelmed however that his bow was so low as to cause me concern that he might be unable to rise or indeed might fall forward, while Maria was rendered virtually senseless - perhaps an improvement although I suspect I am being too unkind - poor Maria. Lady Catherine is a tall, large woman, with strongly marked features, which might once have been handsome. Her air is not conciliating, nor is her manner of receiving us such as to make us forget our inferior rank. She is not rendered formidable by silence; but whatever she says is spoken in so authoritative a tone as to mark her self-importance. She does in countenance and deportment bear some resemblance to Mr. Darcy although she could benefit from his habit of silence. Lady Catherine's daughter bears no similarity in face or figure to her mother being thin, small and speaking little except to her companion, a Mrs. Jenkinson of whom there is little remarkable.

The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants, and all the articles of plate which our cousin had promised; and, when he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by her ladyship's desire, he looked as if he felt that life could furnish nothing greater. My dear Jane, he carved, and ate, and praised with delighted alacrity; and every dish was commended, first by him, and then by Sir William, who was now enough recovered to echo whatever our cousin said. I wondered that Lady Catherine could bear it but she seemed most gratified by their excessive admiration, and gave most gracious smiles. Lady Catherine was not disposed to allow any share of the conversation to belong to anyone else, a state which continued when we retired to the drawing room. I longed for my father. How he would have enjoyed the opportunity to gently expose the follies of our company.

Oh Jane! I am so glad our father supported me in refusing our cousin's offer of marriage. I could not have bourn Lady Catherine's interference in my household concerns. I can only marvel at Charlotte's ability to do so. Her ladyship enquired into Charlotte's domestic concerns familiarly and minutely, and gave her a great deal of advice as to the management of them all; told her how everything ought to be regulated in so small a family as hers, and instructed her even as to the care of her cows and her poultry. When not instructing Charlotte, she addressed a variety of questions to Maria and to myself particularly, of whose connections she knew the least. I am, I learned a very genteel, pretty kind of girl. She asked me at different times, how many sisters I had, whether they were older or younger than myself, whether any of them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where they had been educated, what carriage out father kept, and what had been our mother's maiden name?

It took, I assure you, all my composure to answer these questions without becoming impertinent myself. Unfortunately my forbearance seemed only to encourage her ladyship who then began to inquire minutely into my accomplishments. She was most distressed that none of us draw, had not been taken to London to be taught by masters and that we had no governess - I admit to agreeing with her on this matter, a situation which is noteworthy only for its rarity. However when she heard that all of my sisters were 'out', she could hardly believe it and was not at all amused by my touch of impertinence when I said thought it would be very hard upon my younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society and amusement because you and I may not have the means or inclination to marry early. The last born has as good a right to the pleasures of youth, as the first. And to be kept back on such a motive! I told her I thought it would not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind. While I defended our family in this, I must admit that when I consider Kitty and Lydia's behaviour, I feel some agreement with her ladyship. To agree twice in one evening with her ladyship! - do not tell our father, please.

I will not bore you with the rest of the evening. We played casino until such time as Lady Catherine had played as long as she wished and then we were sent home - in her ladyship's carriage no less. Our journey back to the parsonage was brief but our cousin was most desirous of hearing my praises of Rosings and Lady Catherine; unfortunately, they appeared to be insufficient and he most readily assumed the burden of providing them for me.

You may be assured that I have spared your sensibilities by forbearing to relate much of the foolishness that I have endured. I truly envy you to be staying with our aunt and uncle. I suspect there is more sense spoken at Gracechurch Street in five minutes than would be heard in Rosings in a month.

Your most loving and envious sister,

Elizabeth

Having satisfied herself as to the letter, it was signed and posted that same day after which Elizabeth walked to Hunsford with Maria to investigate the shops there.

Sir William staid only a week at Hunsford; but his visit was long enough to convince him of his daughter being most comfortably settled, and of her possessing such a husband and such a neighbour as were not often met with. While Sir William was with them, Mr. Collins devoted his mornings to driving him out in his gig and showing him the country; but when he went away, the whole family returned to their usual employments, and Elizabeth was thankful to find that they did not see more of her cousin by the alteration, for the chief of the time between breakfast and dinner was now passed by him either at work in the garden, or in reading and writing, and looking out of window in his own book room, which fronted the road. The room in which the ladies sat was backwards. Elizabeth at first had rather wondered that Charlotte should not prefer the dining parlour for common use; it was a better sized room, and had a pleasanter aspect; but she soon saw that her friend had an excellent reason for what she did, for Mr. Collins would undoubtedly have been much less in his own apartment, had they sat in one equally lively; and she gave Charlotte credit for the arrangement.

From the drawing room they could distinguish nothing in the lane, and were indebted to Mr. Collins for the knowledge of what carriages went along, and how often especially Miss De Bourgh drove by in her phaeton, which he never failed coming to inform them of, though it happened almost every day. She not infrequently stopped at the Parsonage, and had a few minutes' conversation with Charlotte, but was scarcely ever prevailed on to get out.

Very few days passed in which Mr. Collins did not walk to Rosings, and not many in which his wife did not think it necessary to go likewise; and till Elizabeth recollected that there might be other family livings to be disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so many hours. Now and then, they were honoured with a call from her ladyship, and nothing escaped her observation that was passing in the room during these visits. She examined into their employments, looked at their work, and advised them to do it differently; found fault with the arrangement of the furniture, or detected the housemaid in negligence; and if she accepted any refreshment, seemed to do it only for the sake of finding out that Mrs. Collins's joints of meat were too large for her family.

Elizabeth soon perceived that though this great lady was not in the commission of the peace for the county, she was a most active magistrate in her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her by Mr. Collins; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to be quarrelsome, discontented or too poor, she sallied forth into the village to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold them into harmony and plenty.

The entertainment of dining at Rosings was repeated about twice a week; and, allowing for the loss of Sir William, and there being only one card table in the evening, every such entertainment was the counterpart of the first. Their other engagements were few; as the style of living of the neighbourhood in general was beyond the reach of the Collinses. This, however, was no evil to Elizabeth, and upon the whole she spent her time comfortably enough; there were half hours of pleasant conversation with Charlotte, and the weather was so fine for the time of year, that she had often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favourite walk, and where she frequently went while the others were calling on Lady Catherine, was along the open grove which edged that side of the park, where there was a nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, and where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine's curiosity.

In this quiet way, the first fortnight of her visit soon passed away. Easter was approaching, and the week preceding it was to bring an addition to the family at Rosings, which in so small a circle must be important. Elizabeth had heard, soon after her arrival, that Mr. Darcy was expected there in the course of a few weeks, and his coming would furnish one comparatively new to look at in their Rosings parties, and she might be amused in seeing how hopeless Miss Bingley's designs on him were, by his behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently destined by Lady Catherine; who talked of his coming with the greatest satisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, and seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by Miss Lucas and herself. On her own behalf Elizabeth, recognizing that she had somewhat carelessly misjudged the gentleman in the past, was resolved to develop a better understanding of him; and, if her aunt's reports of Mr. Wickham's activities had sunk his character, they had also raised Mr. Darcy's. His manner, his pride and arrogance might be as distasteful as ever, but he obviously possessed some admirable attributes and it behooved her to identify them. His reserve, his disinclination to converse with others was, she could now see, the main impediment to her efforts and to this end she thought to make a greater effort to engage him in conversation. With such a taciturn gentleman it would, she thought, require all of her patience.

His arrival was soon known at the Parsonage, for Mr. Collins was walking the whole morning within view of the lodges opening into Hunsford Lane, in order to have the earliest assurance of it; and after making his bow as the carriage turned into the park, hurried home with the great intelligence. On the following morning he hastened to Rosings to pay his respects. There were two nephews of Lady Catherine to require them, for Mr. Darcy had brought with him a Colonel Fitzwilliam, the younger son of his uncle, Lord ----; and to the great surprise of all the party, when Mr. Collins returned, the gentlemen accompanied him. Charlotte had seen them, from her husband's room, crossing the road, and immediately running into the other, told the girls what an honour they might expect, adding, "I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would never have come so soon to wait upon me."

Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment, before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly afterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address most truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy looked just as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, paid his compliments, with his usual reserve, to Mrs. Collins; and whatever might be his feelings towards her friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth curtseyed to him and mindful of her plan, immediately began speaking to him of her pleasure in visiting Kent, the grounds and the walks that she had enjoyed.

Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; and his cousin, perhaps surprised to be addressed so directly by Elizabeth, responded by inquiring, with some interest, of her what she perceived as the differences between Kent and Hertfordshire. When this topic had exhausted itself he lapsed into silence leaving it to his cousin to maintain the conversation. After some minutes Mr. Darcy addressed a slight observation on the house and garden to Mrs. Collins and then sat for some time without speaking to anybody. At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to enquire of Elizabeth after the health of her family. She answered him in the usual way, and after a moment's pause, added, "My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never happened to see her there?"

She was perfectly sensible that he never had; but she wished to see whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between the Bingleys and Jane; and she thought he looked a little confused as he answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The subject was pursued no farther, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went away.

Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners were very much admired at the parsonage, and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure of their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, before they received any invitation thither, for while there were visitors in the house they could not be necessary; and it was not till Easter Sunday, almost a week after the gentlemen's arrival, that they were honoured by such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little of either Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called at the parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had only seen at church.

The invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they joined the party in Lady Catherine's drawing room. Her ladyship received them civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so acceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact, almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy, much more than to any other person in the room.

Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see them; anything was a welcome relief to him at Rosings; and Mrs. Collins's pretty friend had moreover caught his fancy very much. He now seated himself by her, and talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying at home, of new books and music, that Elizabeth had never been half so well entertained in that room before; and they conversed with so much spirit and flow, as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine herself as well as of Mr. Darcy. His eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned towards them with a look of curiosity; and that her ladyship after a while shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not scruple to call out, "What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is."

"We are speaking of music, Madam," said he, when no longer able to avoid a reply.

"Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I must have my share in the conversation, if you are speaking of music. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learned, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister's proficiency.

"I am very glad to hear such a good account of her," said Lady Catherine; "and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel, if she does not practise a great deal."

"I assure you, Madam," he replied, "that she does not need such advice. She practises very constantly."

"So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next write to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often tell young ladies, that no excellence in music is to be acquired, without constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that she will never play really well, unless she practises more; and though Mrs. Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often told her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson's room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that part of the house."

Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt's ill breeding, and made no answer.

When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of having promised to play to him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. He drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then talked, as before, to her other nephew; till the latter walked away from her, and moving with his usual deliberation towards the pianoforte, stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer's countenance. Elizabeth saw what he was doing, and at the first convenient pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said, "You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? But I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me."

"I shall not say that you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which, in fact, are not your own."

Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to Colonel Fitzwilliam, "Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so well able to expose my real character, in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous of you to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire - and, give me leave to say, very impolitic too - for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out, as will shock your relations to hear."

"I am not afraid of you," said he, smilingly.

"Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of," cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I should like to know how he behaves among strangers."

"You shall hear then - but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was at a ball - and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances! I am sorry to pain you - but so it was. He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr. Darcy, you cannot deny the fact."

"I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party."

"True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball room. Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders."

"Perhaps," said Darcy, "I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction, but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers."

"Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?" said Elizabeth, still addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers?"

"I can answer your question," said Fitzwilliam, "without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble."

"I certainly have not the talent which some people possess," said Darcy, "of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done."

"My fingers," said Elizabeth, "do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault - because I would not take the trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as those of any other woman of superior execution."

Darcy smiled, and said, "You are perfectly right. You have employed your time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you, can think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers."

Elizabeth was set to remark that she indeed did frequently perform to strangers and was expected to do so when they were interrupted by Lady Catherine, who called out to know what they were talking of. Elizabeth immediately began playing again. Lady Catherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, said to Darcy, "Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss, if she practised more, and could have the advantage of a London master. She has a very good notion of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne's. Anne would have been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn."

Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his cousin's praise; but neither at that moment nor at any other could she discern any symptom of love; and from the whole of his behaviour to Miss De Bourgh she derived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that he might have been just as likely to marry her, had she been his relation. Her small smirk at this thought was observed by both the Colonel and Mr. Darcy although both believed her to be amused at their aunt's blatant promotion of their cousin.

Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Elizabeth's performance, mixing with them many instructions on execution and taste. Elizabeth received them with all the forbearance of civility; and at the request of the gentlemen, remained at the instrument till her ladyship's carriage was ready to take them all home.

Elizabeth was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane, while Mrs. Collins and Maria were gone on business into the village, when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a visitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to be Lady Catherine, and under that apprehension was putting away her half-finished letter that she might escape all impertinent questions, when the door opened, and to her very great surprise, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy only, entered the room.

He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologized for his intrusion by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies to be within. They then sat down, and when her enquiries after Rosings were made, seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely necessary, therefore, to think of something, and in this emergency recollecting when she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and feeling curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty departure, she observed, "How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London."

"Perfectly so - I thank you."

She found that she was to receive no other answer and, after a short pause, added, "I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?"

"I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in future. He has many friends, and he is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing."

"If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. But perhaps Mr. Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep or quit it on the same principle."

"I should not be surprised," said Darcy, "if he were to give it up, as soon as any eligible purchase offers."

Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his friend; and, recollecting that she had almost promised her aunt to improve her understanding of Mr. Darcy and her resolve to improve her understanding of him, spoke thus. "Mr. Darcy, I remember when last we met, a certain gentleman, with whom you were once acquainted, was discussed. I thought you might be interested to know that he has now joined the regulars and has been sent to fight in Spain."

Mr. Darcy's surprise was obvious and for several moments he had little to say until a small smile, which Elizabeth could easily identify as satisfaction, crossed his face.

"Indeed!" said he and then, after a very brief pause, added, "May I inquire as to how this came about?"

In a few short sentences she outlined the steps followed to make known Mr. Wickham's character. For his part, the gentleman listened with great interest and was warmly congratulatory of her efforts and those of her aunt.

"I will be forever in debt to your aunt and will not hesitate to say as much to her should we meet. I must tell my cousin this news. He will be as satisfied as I."

Elizabeth found herself a little dissatisfied that he had shown no discomfort at his lack of involvement.. Unable to suppress completely the touch of censure in her voice, she noted, "The information upon which we acted was of the common sort and known apparently throughout Lambton. If it had been made known earlier in Meryton, some of our shopkeepers might have incurred fewer debts."

Elizabeth was not unhappy to observe Mr. Darcy's discomposure at her words and he was at last content to express his regrets but that circumstances were such as to prevent his involvement. This statement satisfied neither of them and Elizabeth was now determined to leave the trouble of finding a subject to him. He took the hint, and soon began with, "This seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford."

"I believe she did - and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object."

"Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife."

"Yes, indeed; his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding - though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her."

"It must be very agreeable to her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends."

"An easy distance do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles."

"And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day's journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance."

"I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match," cried Elizabeth. "I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family."

"It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far."

As he spoke there was a sort of smile, which Elizabeth fancied she understood; he must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and Netherfield although an errant thought suggested that he might be referencing herself, and she blushed as she answered,

"I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expense unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow of frequent journeys - and I am persuaded my friend would not call herself near her family under less than half the present distance."

Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, "You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn."

Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman experienced some change of feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and, glancing over it, said, in a slightly colder voice, "Are you pleased with Kent?"

A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side calm and concise and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte and her sister, just returned from their walk. The tête-à-tête surprised them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding on Miss Bennet, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying much to anybody, went away.

"What can be the meaning of this!" said Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. "My dear Eliza he must be in love with you, or he would never have called on us in this familiar way."

Elizabeth admitted that they had conversed very well for much of the time although she could discern no particular warmth on his part and it did not seem very likely, even to Charlotte's wishes, to be the case; and after various conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard table, but gentlemen cannot be always within doors; and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended him still more; and Elizabeth was not unaware of her own satisfaction in being with him, as well as of his evident admiration of her. Not least of his attractions was a well informed mind.

But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was more difficult to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there several minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice - a sacrifice to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. Elizabeth made several attempts to find topics that would engage his interest and occasionally he would even appear animated but all too frequently would return to a quiet contemplation of the conversation taking place before him.

Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel Fitzwilliam's occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told her; and as she would have liked to believe this change the effect of love, and the object of that love, her friend Eliza, she sat herself seriously to work to find it out. She watched him whenever they were at Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind.

She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs. Collins did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of raising expectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend's dislike would vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power.

In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, she sometimes planned her marrying Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was beyond comparison the pleasantest man; he certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but, to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage in the church, and his cousin could have none at all.

More than once did Elizabeth in her ramble within the Park, unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. On the first such occasion she felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought; and to prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him that it was a favourite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time, therefore, was very odd! On both occasions it was not merely a few formal enquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her.

True to her resolve, she made an effort to draw him from silence since it seemed that, if left to himself, he would never say a great deal. On that first meeting, her efforts met with little success until she asked him to speak of Pemberley.

"Of what would you have me speak, Miss Bennet?"

"Of whatever gives you the most pleasure, Mr. Darcy. The grounds, the walks, views, the house. I know nothing of it and anything you share would advance my knowledge and understanding."

To this he was readily agreeable and they spent the remainder of their walk conversing about his estate and the beauties of the Derbyshire countryside, of his sister and her enjoyment of music and of some of those responsibilities which were his. With simple questions she prompted his thoughts and, without becoming too aware of what was happening, found her interest in the subject growing apace. The love and understanding of his home and of his sister that he so clearly, and perhaps inadvertently, expressed could not but improve her opinion of the gentleman and it was with a slight regret that she realized the parsonage was in sight and their walk to end.

Their second encounter was much as the first and, if she had thought their first to have been an accident, she could not do so any longer. That Mr. Darcy had deliberately sought her out with the intention of joining her walk was almost impossible to deny. That thought rendered her silent for the first few minutes as she thought about her response. Should she attempt to dissuade his interest? She could do so, she thought, with relative ease. Did she want to do so? That question was less easy to answer. Already she had come to the conclusion that her perception, her sketch of Mr. Darcy's character was flawed. There was much to admire of the man; and much to censure. If she was to dissuade him, that sketch would remain flawed and whether that was a good or a bad result she could not answer to but to be satisfied with a poorly completed effort offended her pride.

She finally sensed that Mr. Darcy was becoming a little uneasy at her continued silence and jested with him, "Do not be alarmed, Mr. Darcy. I once told you that I had such varying reports of you as to confuse me exceedingly. I remember you advising me not to attempt to sketch your character at that time since the performance would not do justice to either of us. I fear you were correct. I have resolved to attempt a new sketch and need your cooperation, sir!"

"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours, Miss Bennet. How may I assist you?"

Elizabeth laughed at his rather teasing response and the relaxation in his countenance. It almost appeared that he was smiling although she could not be sure since his face was turned slightly away from her. When he did deign to look at her, she could not help but notice the intensity of his gaze and neither could she believe that it was censorious. Quite the reverse in fact! And realized that she had most likely misunderstood his actions from the very first. This thought was so unsettling as to discompose her severely and it was only with the greatest difficulty that she replied mentioning a book that she had recently finished reading, inquiring into whether he had done so and, upon learning he had indeed read it, seeking his opinions upon it. Their discourse was lively and meandered through several books that both had read. Their opinions varied but the ability of each to express those opinions in a pleasing and intelligent fashion did not. It could not be supposed that they agreed in every particular. In fact, the opposite was very much the case, but neither was inclined to discount the contrary opinion of the other and their disagreements were as pleasurable and respectful as their agreements. Before they parted she gave him to understand that it was her preference to walk at a particular hour every morning that the weather would allow and, while not actively seeking company, she was far from averse to enjoying it.

Once returned to the parsonage, Elizabeth knew she could not put off any longer a careful consideration of Mr. Darcy. His attentions were, she could now see, quite clear. It was impossible to suppose that he had met with her twice on her walks by accident. She could not be sure of his intent. Was he thinking of offering for her? Or was this the casual interest of a gentleman with little other activities to engage him. If it had been Colonel Fitzwilliam, she might believe it to be so since his manner was invariably genial but Mr. Darcy had never, to her knowledge, behaved so. His amiability these last few days was beyond anything she had previously encountered and indeed she had not thought it possible of him. That he was intelligent and possessed of a well informed mind she had early recognized; that he would be willing to engage her with it was unexpected and, if she had been previously disposed to think of him as condescending when he did so, she could not now detect any such attitude in his manner to her.

He was, she now knew, a very complex man. Of his pride and his disdain for those not of his close acquaintance she had ample evidence and could not approve. That he objected to her family, its behaviour and the poverty of its connections she could well believe; and, if she agreed with him that her family was all too eager to display its impropriety, it was not something that she could control nor would she deny her attachment to them because of it. His failure, and she could not conceive of a better description, to act against Mr. Wickham appeared to show clearly his disdain for her neighbours by not preventing or limiting the harm he inflicted on them. That he would not act to protect her sisters from what she believed to be a practiced seducer suggested that his approbation extended only to her who, since he believed her to recognize Mr. Wickham's nature, to be in no danger. And yet when pressed to justify his lack of action, he had appeared somewhat embarrassed but not so much as to offer a reason for his actions. While she could believe his motives derived solely from disdain, she believed him to be an honourable man and such actions would seem contrary to his character. Her frustration at the contradiction was great indeed but it was not a subject she felt ready to canvas him for an answer.

The manner of his attentions to her were also a puzzle. He had paid her little attention in Hertfordshire although his gaze could now be seen as an indication of his interest rather than derision. However, apart from asking her to dance at the Netherfield Ball, he had shown little interest. In fact, quite the reverse on many occasions - she had sat with him in the Netherfield library for a full half hour without him speaking anything but the barest civilities. And then, he had taken his leave of Hertfordshire, without warning - as though he could not depart quickly enough for his liking. He had been at Rosings a week - during which the Colonel called at the parsonage several times - without visiting. Even now, it took some effort on her part to engage his interest in conversation. If she had not made the effort, she thought they might complete the whole walk with little more than a dozen words exchanged.

Of her own feeling she was equally uncertain. That she no longer despised him as she once did, she could accept. In learning more of his character, his good qualities were more apparent; however, she was unsure if she actually liked him. Those characteristics of prideful arrogance and disdain could not recommend him to her. Would he offer for her? She rather thought it unlikely. Not as impossible as she once believed but certainly unlikely, very unlikely. Would she accept such an offer? She could not see how that would be possible. Her own experience of marital felicity was not one she wished to emulate. Her father's behaviour toward her mother was abhorrent to her. Attracted to a woman of beauty but mean intelligence, his manner towards her revealed a degree of contempt that she could not wish to experience from her husband. Given Mr. Darcy's nature, could she believe that his affection for her would long survive in the face of his disdain for the poverty of her connections? The wealth and status that would accompany such a marriage would be poor compensation for a lifetime of misery that would ensue if such were the case. No, she did not believe he would offer for her but, if he did, could she allow herself to accept? Prudent she was willing to be; but to accept in the knowledge that she would be miserable was not prudence but mercenary and she thought too well of herself to be willing to endure such a life. She smiled to herself at the thought of her mother's reaction should she learn of Mr. Darcy's attentions and her daughter's unwillingness to accept an offer of marriage should it be made. Her lamentations would reached new heights and Elizabeth suspected she would have to flee to her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner for relief and her stay there would be of no short duration.

Armed with the knowledge of her habit of walking at a regular time, Mr. Darcy became a frequent companion and their comfort with each other increased apace, albeit, slowly. Their conversations flowed a little more freely and Mr. Darcy was, as far as she could determine, more open in his manner. Certainly he was an engaging participant and it their conversations were, for the most part, light and insubstantial, they also proved convivial. Not all their conversations were lighthearted and she was to tease him on more than one occasion about his behaviour in Hertfordshire. Once they had been discussing Bingley's amiability and Elizabeth had cause to think of Darcy's behaviour. She forced herself to consider her next words carefully, since he could easily be offended by them. After a few moments, she felt she had to proceed - the issue would not disappear after all - and said in as neutral a tone as possible as she probed, "Are you aware of how you were viewed in Hertfordshire?"

"I think I am now although I truly gave it very little consideration at the time."

"Are you aware that your manner led them and myself to believe that you felt us as unworthy of your attention or consideration? That we were beneath your notice perhaps?"

Under her hand she could feel his arm tensing and she saw a severe cast come over his countenance as he mastered his emotions. He also strove to match her dispassionate tones as he replied, "I have lately forced myself, if you will, to reconsider the whole of my time there. Was it really so dreadful?"

"Yes. They were prepared to welcome you into their homes and did so. It seemed to them, and myself, the expression of your countenance gave us all to believe that you found no pleasure in our company and that it was most distasteful. You made no effort to hide your opinion of all of us."

"My recollections of my behaviour have grown only more unhappy, Miss Bennet, I assure you." His sombre mien remained for much of that walk despite her efforts to lighten the mood once more; and if he did not appear the following day, he did join her a day later his mood strangely altered and imbued, she thought, with an increased desire to be pleasing and attentive. That she had felt the loss of his company the previous day, she admitted to herself and wondered at such a reaction. Could her opinion of the gentleman be changing?

It struck her in the course of their most recent rencontre that he was asking some odd unconnected questions - about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins's happiness; and that in speaking of Rosings, and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying there too. His words seemed to imply it. If she had not discerned his interest in her, she might well have believed him to have Colonel Fitzwilliam in his thoughts and might have supposed, if he meant anything, he must mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. However her responses to his inquiries, which she realized were not disconnected at all, were composed. She admitted to an appreciation of Hunsford insofar as the walks were concerned, to pleasure in her friend's company, the opportunity to make a new acquaintance in the Colonel and to improve an acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. Left unsaid was the lack of any pleasure to be found in the company of Mr. Collins or in his aunt, Lady Catherine. Of the happiness of the Collinses, she was reluctant to say much other than to articulate, with some caution - fearful of bringing on those addresses which she thought he might harbour -, her belief that a marriage not based on mutual esteem and respect would be distasteful to herself and, with a cautious glance at Mr. Darcy, to her sister Jane. Of the possibility of visiting Rosings she was not prepared to say much other than to admit of its possibility although she believed it unlikely that she would visit her friend again for several years.

It distressed her a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the pales opposite the Parsonage. Charlotte was not so engaged in her household duties as to be unaware of her friend's discomposure and followed her as she mounted the stairs to her room. Asking for and receiving permission to enter she found Elizabeth ensconced in the armchair by her window, wrapped in a light blanket - while spring was upon the land, the days remained cool and the parsonage far from overheated. Elizabeth smiled and raised her eyebrow in the questioning look that her friend had come to know so very well.

"It seemed to me, Eliza, that you were...discomposed when you came back from your walk. Did something happen?"

Elizabeth was silent for several minutes wondering if she could or should seek counsel from her friend. If Jane were here, she might well reveal her thoughts. Charlotte, however, had obligations which might make such confidences unwelcome and harmful to Elizabeth's interests. Finally, she decided to see how willing Charlotte might be to preserve her confidences.

"Charlotte, I have that which I would talk with you about but would have to be kept secret from everyone, including your husband and your family. I will not burden you with them if such a pledge is...impossible for you to give."

Elizabeth could see her friend's face grow increasingly thoughtful. After a minute or so Charlotte asked, "How long would I have to conceal this information?"

Elizabeth considered her response, "I would think no longer than my stay here. Once I leave, I believe the need for secrecy will be gone." And watched as her friend deliberated for several minutes before responding.

"Very well Eliza. I will honour your confidences until you leave." She laughed, "Now what has happened? Has Mr. Darcy made you an offer of marriage?"

Elizabeth could not conceal her surprise saying, "No! No he has not...but I fear he might well do so."

Charlotte's amazement could not be hidden and she made little effort to do so but it quickly became apparent that it was compounded of equal parts of surprise that events had progressed to the point where her friend might expect an offer and that she 'feared' it being made. It was to the latter that she responded, "Fear, Eliza! I am astounded that you would say as much!" Looking at Elizabeth more closely, she blurted, "You are not thinking of refusing him. Surely not! You could not be so foolish!"

Elizabeth grimaced, "I had rather expected such a response from you Charlotte. And yes, I do not see how I can accept him." She was inclined to expand on her thoughts but was prevented from doing so by her friend's interjection, "Eliza, you must listen to me. I know you disagreed with my accepting the offer from Mr. Collins. That we do not think alike on matters of marriage...well, we have expressed our differing thoughts too frequently for me to wish or need to repeat them again. But there are several...thoughts, no perhaps considerations that you must think on. Will you listen and promise to give them some thought? You have extracted a promise of secrecy from me which I have given. From you I would ask a promise of listening to my thoughts and for you to consider them carefully. Will you do this?"

At her friend's slow nod, Charlotte continued, "First and most obvious, Mr. Darcy is not Mr. Collins. I know and understand why you could not accept the offer from Mr. Collins. You would have done very poorly under the eye of Lady Catherine. She has tested even my patience. Yours - I shudder to consider. Mr. Darcy is not a foolish man, he is not only respectable but intelligent and responsible. Consider if you will that he has undertaken the responsibility of raising a sister who was but ten or eleven when he was made her guardian at her father's death. He did so at the age of two-and-twenty when most young men are engaged in frivolous activities and while having to take on the responsibilities of a great estate. You say he is proud but surely he has reason to be so given the responsibilities he must discharge. I would also point out that he has visited his aunt regularly, whose company is obviously somewhat distasteful to him and, in doing so, exposes himself to her presumptions and dictates - not that I think he will be bound by them but he could easily avoid them altogether. That he does not do so speaks well for his sense of responsibility. I might add that his manner in no way reflects that of his aunt. He has been nothing but civil to me and my husband and to you as well during his stay."

Charlotte paused to collect her thoughts and, before Elizabeth could think to respond, continued, "I would have you think further on this, Elizabeth. I am eight-and-twenty and had to accept an offer from a man like Mr. Collins in order to secure a home and security. You are twenty and Jane, I think, three-and-twenty and still unmarried despite being one of the most beautiful women in Hertfordshire."

Elizabeth could not help exclaiming, "She would be married now if it were not for the efforts of Mr. Bingley's sisters and friend!"

"Perhaps...and perhaps not! I know you are convinced that Mr. Bingley was persuaded against an attachment but that speaks poorly for either the strength of his attachment or his resolve or both, does it not?"

Elizabeth could see her friend waiting for her to acknowledge the truth of her words and, remembering her aunt's similar opinion, assented reluctantly - a fact which Charlotte acknowledged with a small smile.

"My point, Eliza, is that we have all reached an age where we should or could have been married - even you. The reason we are not is one that we must accept. The number of men with whom we can consider an attachment is limited and we, none of us, have the portions to attract decent men in need of such to support a wife. You have no reason to concern yourself now, Lizzy, but in five years will you be so sanguine? Can you afford to be? I know you despair of your mother's efforts to have you married but you must admit the reality of your situation. If her efforts are somewhat misguided, the purpose should not be disparaged." Charlotte thought of the entail problem and chose to ignore it. Her friend could easily understand that it inspired much of her mother's efforts.

Sounds from below intruded on their consciousness and both realized that the time that could be spared for a confidential talk had ended. As Charlotte rose she offered one last plea, "I must attended below. I will say no more unless you wish to talk further. I will only ask that you honour my request and take...give careful consideration to any response you make to an offer from Mr. Darcy, should he make one."

Receiving Elizabeth's agreement, she quit the room leaving Elizabeth to begin the arduous task of trying to resolve her uncertainties in regards to Mr. Darcy. This task was to absorb her for much of the remainder of that day and the next and she was pleased to not have her attention distracted by visitors to the parsonage. If her distraction was of concern to the others it was not apparent and she was sure that Mr. Collins was completely insensible to the fact. When she finally closed in her eyes the next night she had, for the most part, arrived at a decision.