Pride and Prejudice (Clandestine Classics) (6 page)

Though Mr Darcy was held in conversation throughout the meal by Miss Bingley, his eyes continued to return to Miss Bennet’s. At times his brow was drawn together as though he were vexed, but there were other instances in which he appeared openly fascinated by her. Elizabeth knew not what to make of it, but found she was not entirely opposed to the attention. Indeed, she rather liked it.

When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence. She had no conversation, no style, no beauty.

Mrs Hurst thought the same, and added, “She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild.”

“She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must
she
be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!”

“Yes, and her petticoat. I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain, and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office.”

“Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,” said Bingley, “but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.”

“
You
observed it, Mr Darcy, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley, “and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see
your
sister make such an exhibition.”

“Certainly not,” replied he, though Miss Bennet’s petticoat had been the furthest from his mind when he had first seen her that morning. He had thought her, in fact, to be quite radiant—a joy to behold. He had excused himself soon thereafter to avoid embarrassment when his body’s response to her had proved a troublesome inconvenience. And throughout dinner he had constantly shifted in his chair, annoyed that her proximity had caused his manhood to harden once again.

“To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone!” exclaimed Miss Bingley. “What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum.”

“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said Bingley.

“I am afraid, Mr Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, “that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.”

“Not at all,” he replied, “they were brightened by the exercise.” A short pause followed this speech, and Mrs Hurst began again, “I have an excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it.”

“I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton.”

“Yes, and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside.”

“That is capital,” added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.

“If they had uncles enough to fill
all
Cheapside,” cried Bingley, “it would not make them one jot less agreeable.”

“But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world,” replied Darcy.

To this speech Bingley made no answer, but his sisters gave it their hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of their dear friend’s vulgar relations.

With a renewal of tenderness, however, they returned to her room on leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till summoned to coffee. She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not quit her at all, till late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her sleep, and when it seemed to her rather right than pleasant that she should go downstairs herself. On entering the drawing-room she found the whole party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them, but suspecting them to be playing high she declined it. Making her sister the excuse, she said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay below, with a book. Mr Hurst looked at her with astonishment.

“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said he. “That is rather singular.”

“Miss Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, “despises cards. She is a great reader, and has no pleasure in anything else.”

“I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,” cried Elizabeth, “I am
not
a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”

“In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure,” said Bingley, “and I hope it will be soon increased by seeing her quite well.”

Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards the table where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her others—all that his library afforded.

“And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own credit, but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more than I ever looked into.”

Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those in the room.

“I am astonished,” said Miss Bingley, “that my father should have left so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr Darcy!”

“It ought to be good,” he replied, “it has been the work of many generations.” Even as he made the declaration, Mr Darcy imagined Elizabeth Bennet in his home, happily poring over his collection. The very idea of her standing in his library filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction, but he quickly shook the absurd notion from his mind, all the while chastising himself for allowing the thoughts free rein.

“And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying books.”

“I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these.”

“Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place. Charles, when you build
your
house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Pemberley.”

“I wish it may.”

“But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire.”

“With all my heart, I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it.”

“I am talking of possibilities, Charles.”

“Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get Pemberley by purchase than by imitation.”

Elizabeth was so much caught with what passed, as to leave her very little attention for her book. Soon laying it wholly aside, she drew near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr Bingley and his eldest sister, to observe the game.

“Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?” said Miss Bingley. “Will she be as tall as I am?”

“I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s height, or rather taller.”

“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”

“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”

“All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?”

“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.”

“Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,” said Darcy, “has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.”

“Nor I, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley.

“Then,” observed Elizabeth, “you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.”

When Mr Darcy met Elizabeth’s pointed gaze, his body filled with a burning desire he tried his utmost to disregard. “Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.”

“Oh, certainly,” cried his faithful assistant, “no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word. And besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved.”

“All this she must possess,” added Darcy, “and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”

“I am no longer surprised at your knowing
only
six accomplished women,” Elizabeth remarked. “I rather wonder now at your knowing
any
.”

“Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all this?”

“I never saw such a woman. I never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe united.”

Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who answered this description, when Mr Hurst called them to order, with bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the room.

“Elizabeth Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, “is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own, and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.”

“Undoubtedly,” replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed, “there is a meanness in
all
the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable.” Mr Darcy did not believe Elizabeth Bennet to be cunning thus. For a reason he could not comprehend, Elizabeth seemed to take great pleasure in her contradictions towards him, though the idea did not fill him with ire. Instead, her curious manner intrigued him further. He rather liked that she challenged him, for she was the only person to do so.

Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to continue the subject.

Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr Jones being sent for immediately, while his sisters, convinced that no country advice could be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of the most eminent physicians. This she would not hear of, but she was not so unwilling to comply with their brother’s proposal, and it was settled that Mr Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable. His sisters declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness, however, by duets after supper, while he could find no better relief to his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that every attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister.

Mr Darcy made his excuses and slipped out of the room after Miss Bennet took her leave to attend to her sister. He rushed after her in the hope of conversing with her briefly, though he had no notion of what he should say. He found her on the upstairs landing, about to enter the chamber in which her sister resided.

“Miss Bennet!” he called out.

When Elizabeth turned, her face filled instantly with surprise at having been sought out by him.

“Sir?” she enquired.

Darcy knew not how to respond. He strode forward and stopped in front of Elizabeth. With a private curse, he lowered his gaze and, frustrated by his sudden unease, ran a hand through his thick hair and exhaled a long, unsteady breath. When he next met her eyes, he found no annoyance or impatience in their depths, only curiosity.

Damn it. Elizabeth was captivating and the yearning to pull her into his arms and cover her mouth with his was strong. He inched closer and focused on her plump, rosy lips. What would be the harm in an innocent kiss? What injury would it cause to slide his tongue into her mouth and taste her as he was aching to do? Though Mr Darcy knew one kiss would not satiate his need, and he doubted she would allow even that. His desire was to ravage her—to take her body and possess it. He wanted to lie with her and enter her, to show her the ecstasy they could derive from one another. Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she pulled in a sharp breath when he moved closer still, and reached out as if to touch her, his mouth a hairsbreadth from hers.

Time halted as they stared at one another in silence. Darcy’s gaze focused exclusively on her mouth. Her lips parted and her tongue snaked out to wet them. It was too much. A low moan tore from his throat and, without giving his design another thought, he pressed his lips to hers. The fire that ignited in his stomach as their lips connected was unlike anything he’d felt before. He slid his hand around to the small of her back to hold her in place as he deepened the kiss, and slipped his tongue into her mouth. She did not object, rather she opened her lips wider and welcomed him inside. He pulled her body to his and she gasped as she came into contact with the hardness that was confined in his trousers, pleading for attention. The kiss was divine, exactly as he had imagined it would be. The heat of her mouth, the taste of her, the tentative glide of her own tongue against his sent his body into a frenzy and the release he so desperately needed began to build in his loins. When the need to take a breath became too much to endure, he moved back, and during the brief separation he caught the surprised look on her face, and it was enough to bring him to his senses. What on earth was he doing? This could not be permitted to advance.

“I…” He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. With great resolve, he removed his hands from her body and took a step back. Though he wanted her with every fibre of his being, he could not disgrace himself or her a moment longer. It was not proper. When Elizabeth’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, Darcy knew it must end.