Pride and Prejudice
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 were talking 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
learnt, 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 in 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 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 any other woman’s 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.”
Here 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.
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.
CHAPTER XXXII.
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 inquiries 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, having nothing else to say, 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, 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 of
travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the