Pride and Prejudice
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 ever had 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 inquired 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 would 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. 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, etc.”
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 seriously 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.
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 had subsided, his attentions were over,
he was the admirer of some one else. Elizabeth was watchful enough to
see it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain.
Her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied
with believing that _she_ would have been his only choice, had fortune
permitted it. 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, less clear-sighted perhaps in this case than
in Charlotte’s, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence.
Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and, while able to
suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was
ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very
sincerely wish him happy.
All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner; and, after relating the
circumstances, she thus went on:--“I am now convinced, my dear aunt,
that I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that
pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name,
and wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial
towards _him_, they are even impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find
out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think
her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My
watchfulness has been effectual; and though I should certainly be a more
interesting object to all my acquaintance, were I distractedly in love
with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance.
Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Kitty and Lydia take
his defection much more to heart than I do. 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.”
CHAPTER XXVII.
With no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, and otherwise
diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty and
sometimes cold, did January and February pass away. 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 as
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.
The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly friendly; on
his side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget that
Elizabeth had been the first to excite and to deserve his attention, the
first to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his manner
of bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of what
she was to expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their
opinion of her--their opinion of everybody--would always coincide, there
was a solicitude, an interest, which she felt must ever attach her to
him with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced, that,
whether married or single, he must always be her model of the amiable
and pleasing.
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,