Gay Pride and Prejudice (3 page)

Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The eldest of them, Charlotte, a sensible, intelligent young woman of twenty-five, had been Elizabeth’s intimate friend for a number of years, and somewhat more these past two; though of late, they had appeared to look for fewer excuses to spend time in one another’s company as they had once readily found.

That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.

“
You
began the evening well, Charlotte,” said Mrs. Bennet with civil self-command to Miss Lucas. “You were Mr. Bingley’s first choice.”

“Yes; but he seemed to like his second better.”

“You mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be sure that
did
seem as if he admired her—indeed I rather believe he did—I heard something about it—but I hardly know what—something about Mr. Robinson.”

“Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did not I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson’s asking him how he liked our Meryton assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many pretty women in the room, and which he thought the prettiest? And his answering immediately to the last question: ‘The eldest Miss Bennet, beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point.’“

“Upon my word! Well, that is very decided indeed—that does seem as if—but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know.”

“My overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Eliza,” said Charlotte. “Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend, is he? Poor Eliza—to be only just
tolerable
.”

To Charlotte alone had Elizabeth confessed Miss Bingley’s part in the rejection. She gazed upon her friend now, silently entreating her to maintain her vow of secrecy.

“I beg you would not put it into Lizzy’s head to be vexed by Mr. Darcy’s ill-treatment,” Mrs. Bennett said, “for he is such a disagreeable man, that it would be quite a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night that he sat close to her for half-an-hour without once opening his lips.”

“Are you quite sure, Ma’am? Is not there a little mistake?” said Jane. “I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her.”

“Aye—because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he could not help answering her; but she said he seemed quite angry at being spoke to.”

“Miss Bingley told me,” said Jane, “that he never speaks much, unless among his intimate acquaintances. With them he is remarkably agreeable.”

Miss Bingley certainly seemed to be among Mr. Darcy’s intimate acquaintances, Elizabeth acknowledged. Was there an agreement between them? No such arrangement had been mentioned at the assembly, but that did not preclude the existence of something of an informal nature.

“I do not believe a word of it,” her mother said. “If Mr. Darcy had been so very agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it was; I dare say he had heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and had come to the ball in a hack chaise.”

“I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long,” said Miss Lucas, “but I wish he had danced with Eliza.”

“Another time, Lizzy,” said her mother. “I would not dance with him, if I were you.”

“I believe, Ma’am, I may safely promise you never to dance with him.” Nor to seek out Miss Bingley’s companionship, either.

“His pride,” said Miss Lucas, “does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud.”

“That is very true,” replied Elizabeth, considering that these conditions applied equally well to the haughty Miss Bingley, “and I could easily forgive her—that is,
his
pride, if he had not mortified mine.”

“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

“If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who had come with his sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine a day.”

“Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought,” said Mrs. Bennet; “and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle directly.”

The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she would, and the argument ended only with the visit.

As Charlotte left with barely a glance back, Elizabeth pondered her part in the conversation. It seemed almost as if Charlotte had been pushing her toward Mr. Darcy, a bachelor with a fortune even superior to that of Mr. Bingley’s. Elizabeth thought she understood her friend’s motivation—a disagreement had risen between them some weeks previous, occasioned by Charlotte insisting that marriage was the only option for women of their class and standing, despite their very real attachment to one another. When Elizabeth had protested that she should never marry a person whom she did not love, and would sooner run away with one she did, Charlotte had only smiled gently and said she did not believe Elizabeth possessed the coldness of heart such a course of action would require. She herself could never consider disappointing her family and friends so, she had declared; and believing her, Elizabeth had become aware of a rising sense of disillusionment. This pronouncement had ended their argument, and their visit, simultaneously; and the two had not found time to be alone together since.

Chapter Six

T
HE LADIES OF
L
ONGBOURN SOON WAITED
on those of Netherfield, and the visit was returned in due form. On each occasion, Elizabeth sat erect in her seat, hands folded primly, avoiding Miss Bingley’s eye and speaking to her only when directly required. Miss Bennet’s pleasing manners grew on the goodwill of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was found to be intolerable, and the three younger sisters not worth speaking to, a wish of being better acquainted with the two eldest was expressed. By Jane, this attention was received with the greatest pleasure, but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment of everybody, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them; though their kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value as arising in all probability from the influence of their brother’s admiration. It was generally evident whenever they met that he did admire her, and to Elizabeth it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference that she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a way to be very much in love; but Elizabeth considered with pleasure that it was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane united, with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and a uniform cheerfulness of manner which would guard her from the suspicions of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Miss Lucas the next time they met.

“It may perhaps be pleasant,” replied Charlotte, “to be able to impose on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all
begin
freely—a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten a woman had better show more affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on.”

“But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If I can perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not to discover it, too.”

“Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane’s disposition as you do.”

“But if a woman is partial to someone, and does not endeavour to conceal it, the other must find it out. You, after all, found out my feelings easily enough,” added she, smiling as she recalled the day in the park two summers past when Charlotte had kissed her as she had sought vainly for words with which to describe her recently discovered love for her friend.

Charlotte allowed a small smile, but did not meet her eyes. “Perhaps, if they see each other enough. But, though Bingley and Jane meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and, as they always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should therefore make the most of every half-hour in which she can command his attention. When she is secure of him, there will be more leisure for falling in love as much as she chooses.”

“Your plan is a good one,” replied Elizabeth, “where nothing is in question but the desire of being well married, and if I were determined to get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare say I should adopt it. But these are not Jane’s feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet, she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard nor of its reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced four dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house, and has since dined with him in company four times. This is not quite enough to make her understand his character.”

“Not as you represent it. Had she merely dined with him, she might only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must remember that four evenings have also been spent together—and four evenings may do a great deal.”

“Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they both like Blackjack better than the game of Commerce; but with respect to any other leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been unfolded.”

“Well,” said Charlotte, “I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if she were married to him tomorrow, I should think she had as good a chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.”

“You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself.”

Charlotte did not reply to this charge, and the conversation soon turned to another topic. Neither was anxious to revisit contested territory, as any talk of marriage would surely occasion.

Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley’s attentions to Jane, Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of the gentleman’s younger sister. Caroline Bingley had at first scarcely allowed the second eldest Miss Bennet to be pretty; she had looked at her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, looked at her only to criticize. But no sooner had she made it clear to herself that the younger Miss Bennet had hardly a good feature in her face, than she began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though she had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in Elizabeth’s form, Caroline was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite of her asserting that Miss Bennet’s manners were not those of the fashionable world, she was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this Elizabeth was perfectly unaware; to her Miss Bingley was only the relation of her own sister’s object of affection, and the woman who had thought her not handsome enough for Mr. Darcy to dance with.

Caroline began to wish to know more of Elizabeth, and as a step towards conversing with her, attended to her conversation with others. This practice drew Elizabeth’s notice. It was at Sir William Lucas’s, where a large party was assembled.

“What did Miss Bingley mean,” said she to Charlotte, “by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?”

“That is a question which only Miss Bingley can answer.”

“But if she does it any more I shall certainly let her know that I see what she is about. She has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of her.”

On Miss Bingley’s approaching them soon afterwards, Miss Lucas defied her friend to mention such a subject to her; which immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she turned to the newly arrived Miss Bingley and said: “Did you not think that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?”

“With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes one energetic.”

“You are severe on us.”

“It will be your turn soon to be teased, Eliza,” said Charlotte. “I am going to open the instrument, and you know what follows.”

“You are a very strange creature by way of a friend—always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers.” On Miss Lucas’s persevering, however, she added, “Very well, if it must be so, it must.” And glancing at Miss Bingley, “There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of course familiar with: ‘Keep your breath to cool your porridge’; and I shall keep mine to swell my song.”