Pride and Prejudice
“I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People _did_ say,
you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope
it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighbourhood
since you went away. Miss Lucas is married and settled: and one of my
own daughters. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have
seen it in the papers. It was in the ‘Times’ and the ‘Courier,’ I know;
though it was not put in as it ought to be. It was only said, ‘Lately,
George Wickham, Esq., to Miss Lydia Bennet,’ without there being a
syllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or anything.
It was my brother Gardiner’s drawing up, too, and I wonder how he came
to make such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?”
Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Elizabeth
dared not lift up her eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could
not tell.
“It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married,”
continued her mother; “but at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very
hard to have her taken away from me. They are gone down to Newcastle, a
place quite northward it seems, and there they are to stay, I do not
know how long. His regiment is there; for I suppose you have heard of
his leaving the ----shire, and of his being gone into the Regulars.
Thank heaven! he has _some_ friends, though, perhaps, not so many as he
deserves.”
Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such misery
of shame that she could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her, however,
the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually done
before; and she asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay in the
country at present. A few weeks, he believed.
“When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley,” said her mother,
“I beg you will come here and shoot as many as you please on Mr.
Bennet’s manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, and
will save all the best of the coveys for you.”
Elizabeth’s misery increased at such unnecessary, such officious
attention! Were the same fair prospect to arise at present, as had
flattered them a year ago, everything, she was persuaded, would be
hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant she felt,
that years of happiness could not make Jane or herself amends for
moments of such painful confusion.
“The first wish of my heart,” said she to herself, “is never more to be
in company with either of them. Their society can afford no pleasure
that will atone for such wretchedness as this! Let me never see either
one or the other again!”
Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no
compensation, received soon afterwards material relief, from observing
how much the beauty of her sister rekindled the admiration of her former
lover. When first he came in, he had spoken to her but little, but every
five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention. He found her
as handsome as she had been last year; as good-natured, and as
unaffected, though not quite so chatty. Jane was anxious that no
difference should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuaded
that she talked as much as ever; but her mind was so busily engaged,
that she did not always know when she was silent.
When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of her
intended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at
Longbourn in a few days’ time.
“You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley,” she added; “for when
you went to town last winter, you promised to take a family dinner with
us as soon as you returned. I have not forgot, you see; and I assure you
I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep your
engagement.”
Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection, and said something of
his concern at having been prevented by business. They then went away.
Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine
there that day; but, though she always kept a very good table, she did
not think anything less than two courses could be good enough for a man
on whom she had such anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and pride
of one who had ten thousand a year.
CHAPTER LIV.
As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth walked out to recover her spirits;
or, in other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects
which must deaden them more. Mr. Darcy’s behaviour astonished and vexed
her.
“Why, if he came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent,” said she,
“did he come at all?”
She could settle it in no way that gave her pleasure.
“He could be still amiable, still pleasing to my uncle and aunt, when he
was in town; and why not to me? If he fears me, why come hither? If he
no longer cares for me, why silent? Teasing, teasing man! I will think
no more about him.”
Her resolution was for a short time involuntarily kept by the approach
of her sister, who joined her with a cheerful look which showed her
better satisfied with their visitors than Elizabeth.
“Now,” said she, “that this first meeting is over, I feel perfectly
easy. I know my own strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again by
his coming. I am glad he dines here on Tuesday. It will then be publicly
seen, that on both sides we meet only as common and indifferent
acquaintance.”
“Yes, very indifferent, indeed,” said Elizabeth, laughingly. “Oh, Jane!
take care.”
“My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak as to be in danger now.”
“I think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love with
you as ever.”
They did not see the gentlemen again till Tuesday; and Mrs. Bennet, in
the meanwhile, was giving way to all the happy schemes which the
good-humour and common politeness of Bingley, in half an hour’s visit,
had revived.
On Tuesday there was a large party assembled at Longbourn; and the two
who were most anxiously expected, to the credit of their punctuality as
sportsmen, were in very good time. When they repaired to the
dining-room, Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take
the place which, in all their former parties, had belonged to him, by
her sister. Her prudent mother, occupied by the same ideas, forbore to
invite him to sit by herself. On entering the room, he seemed to
hesitate; but Jane happened to look round, and happened to smile: it was
decided. He placed himself by her.
Elizabeth, with a triumphant sensation, looked towards his friend. He
bore it with noble indifference; and she would have imagined that
Bingley had received his sanction to be happy, had she not seen his eyes
likewise turned towards Mr. Darcy, with an expression of half-laughing
alarm.
His behaviour to her sister was such during dinnertime as showed an
admiration of her, which, though more guarded than formerly, persuaded
Elizabeth, that, if left wholly to himself, Jane’s happiness, and his
own, would be speedily secured. Though she dared not depend upon the
consequence, she yet received pleasure from observing his behaviour. It
gave her all the animation that her spirits could boast; for she was in
no cheerful humour. Mr. Darcy was almost as far from her as the table
could divide them. He was on one side of her mother. She knew how little
such a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear to
advantage. She was not near enough to hear any of their discourse; but
she could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal and
cold was their manner whenever they did. Her mother’s ungraciousness
made the sense of what they owed him more painful to Elizabeth’s mind;
and she would, at times, have given anything to be privileged to tell
him, that his kindness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole of
the family.
She was in hopes that the evening would afford some opportunity of
bringing them together; that the whole of the visit would not pass away
without enabling them to enter into something more of conversation,
than the mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance. Anxious and
uneasy, the period which passed in the drawing-room before the gentlemen
came, was wearisome and dull to a degree that almost made her uncivil.
She looked forward to their entrance as the point on which all her
chance of pleasure for the evening must depend.
“If he does not come to me, _then_,” said she, “I shall give him up for
ever.”
The gentlemen came; and she thought he looked as if he would have
answered her hopes; but, alas! the ladies had crowded round the table,
where Miss Bennet was making tea, and Elizabeth pouring out the coffee,
in so close a confederacy, that there was not a single vacancy near her
which would admit of a chair. And on the gentlemen’s approaching, one of
the girls moved closer to her than ever, and said, in a whisper,--
“The men shan’t come and part us, I am determined. We want none of them;
do we?”
Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with
her eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough
to help anybody to coffee, and then was enraged against herself for
being so silly!
“A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to
expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex who would not
protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman?
There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings.”
She was a little revived, however, by his bringing back his coffee-cup
himself; and she seized the opportunity of saying,--
“Is your sister at Pemberley still?”
“Yes; she will remain there till Christmas.”
“And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?”
“Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have been gone on to Scarborough
these three weeks.”
She could think of nothing more to say; but if he wished to converse
with her, he might have better success. He stood by her, however, for
some minutes, in silence; and, at last, on the young lady’s whispering
to Elizabeth again, he walked away.
When the tea things were removed, and the card tables placed, the ladies
all rose; and Elizabeth was then hoping to be soon joined by him, when
all her views were overthrown, by seeing him fall a victim to her
mother’s rapacity for whist players, and in a few moments after seated
with the rest of the party. She now lost every expectation of pleasure.
They were confined for the evening at different tables; and she had
nothing to hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her side
of the room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself.
Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the two Netherfield gentlemen to
supper; but their carriage was, unluckily, ordered before any of the
others, and she had no opportunity of detaining them.
“Well, girls,” said she, as soon as they were left to themselves, “what
say you to the day? I think everything has passed off uncommonly well, I
assure you. The dinner was as well dressed as any I ever saw. The
venison was roasted to a turn--and everybody said, they never saw so fat
a haunch. The soup was fifty times better than what we had at the
Lucases’ last week; and even Mr. Darcy acknowledged that the partridges
were remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three French
cooks at least. And, my dear Jane, I never saw you look in greater
beauty. Mrs. Long said so too, for I asked her whether you did not. And
what do you think she said besides? ‘Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have her
at Netherfield at last!’ She did, indeed. I do think Mrs. Long is as
good a creature as ever lived--and her nieces are very pretty behaved
girls, and not at all handsome: I like them prodigiously.”