Gay Pride and Prejudice (4 page)

Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always impatient for display.

Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who, with some of the Lucases, and two or three officers, joined eagerly in dancing at one end of the room.

Mr. Darcy stood near them in morose contemplation of how he would have preferred to pass the evening. His thoughts were so engaged by a subject close to his heart but far from his person that he failed to perceive Sir William Lucas was his neighbour, till Sir William thus began: “What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished society.”

“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.”

Sir William only smiled. “Your friend performs delightfully,” he continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group; “and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy. Do you often dance at St. James’s?”

“Never, sir.”

“Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?”

“It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it.”

At that instant Sir William spotted Elizabeth moving towards them, and was struck with the action of doing a very gallant thing. He called out to her: “My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner.”

And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy who, though surprised, was not altogether unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William: “Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg a partner.”

“You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza,” said Sir William, “that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour.”

“Mr. Darcy is all politeness,” said Elizabeth.

“He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance—for who would object to such a partner?”

Elizabeth chose to excuse herself without answering Sir William’s question, but had only gone a few paces when Caroline Bingley intercepted her.

“Miss Bennet,” Caroline said, inclining her head. She was dressed, as ever, in a gown of the latest fashion, trimmed with blue fabric that highlighted the corresponding colour of her eyes.

“Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth said.

“I wished to compliment you on your performance. You play quite well—not that I am surprised by your accomplishment.”

“Why, because you are of the belief that we country girls have nothing else to do but work on our pianoforte-playing?”

“To the contrary. I only meant that it seems natural to me that someone as handsome as you would play well.”

“And here I believed I was only barely
tolerable
in your estimation.” Glancing around, she spotted Charlotte on the other side of the room. “Good evening, Miss Bingley.”

As Caroline watched Elizabeth’s retreating form, a slight frown marring her countenance, Mr. Darcy approached and said, “I believe I can guess the subject of your reverie.”

“I would be surprised if you could.”

“You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. The nothingness, and yet the self-importance of these people, is altogether distasteful.”

“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you,” said Caroline. “I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a handsome woman can bestow.”

Mr. Darcy immediately fixed his eyes on her face, and desired she would tell him what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of course.”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Darcy. “I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite? And pray, when exactly did you become such intimates?”

“That is exactly the question I would expect you to ask,” Caroline said. “A man’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to intimacy in a moment.”

“If you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter absolutely settled. Though I myself am immune to the Bennet sisters’ appeal, I cannot say I have missed their mother’s charm; and, of course, she will always be with her daughters, wherever they go.”

Caroline dismissed Darcy’s attempt at wit, and gave over to wondering when and how she might convince Elizabeth that her admiration was sincere. Though, if she were wise, she would in fact leave off pondering the younger Miss Bennet’s attractions. Darcy’s satire was not far off the mark; while the elder Bennet sisters had much to recommend them in temperament, bearing, and intelligence, their connections left rather more to be desired. Besides, on the last occasion Caroline had initiated a friendship with a lady, she had found herself forced to relocate merely to placate the lady’s jealous husband. Perhaps the longing to convince Elizabeth Bennet she found her much more than merely tolerable was an urge she had far better ignore.

Chapter Seven

M
R.
B
ENNET'S PROPERTY CONSISTED
almost entirely in an estate of two thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed, in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their mother’s fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and had left her four thousand pounds.

She had a sister married to a Mr. Phillips, who had been a clerk to their father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in London in a respectable line of trade.

The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and to a milliner’s shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family, Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions; their minds were more vacant than their sisters’, and when nothing better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of news the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the headquarters.

Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the officers’ names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a secret, and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. Phillips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of felicity unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley’s large fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.

After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr. Bennet coolly observed: “From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but I am now convinced.”

Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the next morning to London.

“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that you should be so ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly of anybody’s children, it should not be of my own.”

“If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it.”

“Yes—but as it happens, they are all of them very clever.”

“This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly foolish.”

“My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of their father and mother. When they get to our age, I dare say they will not think about officers any more than we do. I remember the time when I liked a red coat myself very well—and, indeed, so I do still at my heart; and if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year, should want one of my girls I shall not say nay to him; and I thought Colonel Forster looked very becoming the other night at Sir William’s in his regimentals.”

A few moments’ recollection led Mr. Bennet to a certain uniformed gentleman who had once caught his own fancy, decades earlier; but unlike his daughters, he had not ever been free to publish his sentiments abroad. This, he could now admit, was rather a fortunate position in which he had found himself, than unfortunate; for else he might well have fawned and effused in a manner even surpassing that of Lydia, his silliest daughter by far.

“Mamma,” cried Lydia, “my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson’s as they did when they first came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke’s library.”

Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman with a note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the servant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet’s eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly calling out while her daughter read, “Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say? Well, Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love.”

“It is from Miss Bingley,” said Jane, and then read it aloud.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—

“If you would be so compassionate as to dine today with Louisa and me, I shall be indebted to you, for a whole day’s tête-à-tête with just the two of us, alone together, is not likely to end well. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.—Yours ever,

“CAROLINE BINGLEY”

“With the officers!” cried Lydia. “I wonder my aunt did not tell us of
that
.”

“Dining out,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that is very unlucky.”

“Can I have the carriage?” Jane asked.

“No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to rain; and then you must stay all night.”

“That would be a good scheme,” said Elizabeth, “if you were sure that they would not offer to send her home.”

“The gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley’s chaise to go to Meryton, and the Hursts have no horses to theirs.”

“I had much rather go in the coach.”

“But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are they not?”

“They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them.”

“But if you have got them today,” said Elizabeth, “my mother’s purpose will be answered.”

She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses were engaged. Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her mother attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a bad day. Her hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long before it rained hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was delighted. The rain continued the whole evening without intermission; Jane certainly could not come back.

“This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!” said Mrs. Bennet more than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield brought the following note for Elizabeth:

“MY DEAREST LIZZY,—

“I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not hear of my returning till I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr. Jones—therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been to me—and, excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter with me.—Yours, etc.”

“Well, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note aloud, “if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness—if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders.”

“I am not afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, it is all very well. I would go and see her if I could have the carriage.”

Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to Jane, though the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman, walking was her only alternative. She declared her resolution.

“How can you be so silly,” cried her mother, “as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get there.”

“I shall be very fit to see Jane—which is all I want.”

“Is this a hint to me, Lizzy,” said her father, “to send for the horses?”

“No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner.”

“I admire the activity of your benevolence,” observed Mary, “but every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion, exertion should always be in proportion to what is required.”