Pride and Prejudice
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, angrily; “for I have heard you accuse him of nothing
worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy’s steward, and of _that_, I can
assure you, he informed me himself.”
“I beg your pardon,” replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer.
“Excuse my interference; it was kindly meant.”
“Insolent girl!” said Elizabeth to herself. “You are much mistaken if
you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see
nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr.
Darcy.” She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make
inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of
such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently
marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening.
Elizabeth instantly read her feelings; and, at that moment, solicitude
for Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and 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 convinced by assurances only. Mr.
Bingley’s defence of his friend was a very able one, I dare say; but
since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt
the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture still to think of
both gentlemen as I did before.”
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.
“I have found out,” said he, “by a singular accident, that there is now
in the room a near relation to my patroness. I happened to overhear the
gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours of
this house the names of his cousin Miss De Bourgh, and of her mother,
Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would
have thought of my meeting with--perhaps--a nephew of Lady Catherine de
Bourgh in this assembly! I am most thankful that the discovery is made
in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to do,
and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total
ignorance of the connection must plead my apology.”
“You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy?”
“Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier.
I believe him to be Lady Catherine’s _nephew_. It will be in my power to
assure him that her Ladyship was quite well yesterday se’nnight.”
Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme; assuring him
that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as
an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that it
was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either
side, and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in
consequence, to begin the acquaintance. Mr. Collins listened to her with
the determined air of following his own inclination, and when she ceased
speaking, replied thus,--
“My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world of your
excellent judgment in all matters within the scope of your
understanding, but permit me to say that there must be a wide difference
between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity and those
which regulate the clergy; for, give me leave to observe that I consider
the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank
in the kingdom--provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the
same time maintained. You must, therefore, allow me to follow the
dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which lead me to perform
what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by
your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant guide,
though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by education
and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young lady like
yourself;” and with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy, whose
reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at
being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with
a solemn bow, and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if
hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words “apology,”
“Hunsford,” and “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.” It vexed her to see him
expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with
unrestrained wonder; and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him to speak,
replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, was not
discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy’s contempt seemed
abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech; and at the
end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way: Mr.
Collins then returned to Elizabeth.
“I have no reason, I assure you,” said he, “to be dissatisfied with my
reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered
me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying,
that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine’s discernment as to be
certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very
handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him.”
As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned
her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley; and the
train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to made
her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her in idea settled in that
very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection could
bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances, of endeavouring
even to like Bingley’s two sisters. Her mother’s thoughts she plainly
saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to venture near her,
lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to supper, therefore,
she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed them within
one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find that her mother was
talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely, openly, and of nothing
else but of her expectation that Jane would be soon married to Mr.
Bingley. It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable
of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being such
a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three miles from them,
were the first points of self-gratulation; and then it was such a
comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane, and to be
certain that they must desire the connection as much as she could do. It
was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as
Jane’s marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich men;
and, lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to
consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that she might
not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was necessary
to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on such
occasions it is the etiquette; but no one was less likely than Mrs.
Bennet to find comfort in staying at home at any period of her life. She
concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally
fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no
chance of it.
In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother’s
words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible
whisper; for to her inexpressible vexation she could perceive that the
chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her
mother only scolded her for being nonsensical.
“What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am
sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say
nothing _he_ may not like to hear.”
“For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be to you
to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by
so doing.”
Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother would
talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and
blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently
glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what
she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was
convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression
of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and
steady gravity.
At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who
had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no
likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken.
Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of
tranquillity; for when supper was over, singing was talked of, and she
had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty,
preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent