Gay Pride and Prejudice (5 page)

“We will go as far as Meryton with you,” said Catherine and Lydia. Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off together.

“If we make haste,” said Lydia, as they walked along, “perhaps we may see something of Captain Carter before he goes.”

In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one of the officers’ wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last within view of the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise.

She was shown into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane were assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of surprise. That she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst; and Elizabeth was convinced that both sisters held her in contempt for it. Caroline, in fact, was divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion’s justifying her coming so far on foot. In their brother’s manners, however, there was something better than politeness; there was good humour and kindness. Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr. Hurst nothing at all. The former was thinking of a letter he had received from the continent that morning, and the latter was thinking only of his breakfast.

Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her immediately; and Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal, however, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them together, could attempt little besides expressions of gratitude for the extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended her.

When breakfast was over they were joined by the sisters; and Elizabeth began to like them a little better herself, when she saw how much affection and solicitude they showed Jane. Even Miss Bingley seemed to have lost her haughty air, pressing Elizabeth’s hand with her own and assuring her they would see Jane well very soon. Elizabeth let her fingers remain within the lady’s grasp for the briefest of moments, more from surprise than any other sensation. She had not expected such attention from Miss Bingley.

The apothecary came, and having examined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caught a violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it; advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice was followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment; nor were the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had, in fact, no need to be elsewhere.

Caroline took advantage of the opportunity to watch Elizabeth tend to her sister. The relationship between the two Bennets was clearly devoted, and quite mutual—as far different from her own filial bonds as was possible. Elizabeth sat beside her sister on the bed, rubbing her hands with fine, sensitive fingers and amusing her with stories of their younger sisters’ adventures in Meryton among the gathered militia, while Jane smiled up at her in gratitude and what could only be genuine affection.

At length, Louisa, noticing Caroline’s close attendance to the Bennets, fixed her with a knowing, ill-humoured look. She, along with Charles and Darcy, was intimately acquainted with the circumstances behind their hasty removal to Netherfield. In fact, Louisa knew better than anyone of Caroline’s affection for members of their sex, for they had attended together Mrs. Betwee’s School for Young Ladies in Derbyshire, where Caroline had first fallen under the spell of Lady Rosalind Emmett, the unmarried aunt of one of their classmates. Lady Rosalind had introduced Caroline to the pleasures of female companionship, and ever since, she had been in search of a situation that would allow her to be true to her heart without losing the good opinion of her connections. With Darcy, she believed she may have uncovered an ideal plan for achieving future happiness for both; but given his proud, somewhat obstinate nature, the idea would have to be planted and tended to subtly, until he believed it came from his own reasoning, and not another’s.

For her part, Elizabeth was aware of Caroline’s gaze, but strove to ignore it as she worked to amuse and soothe Jane. Her sister had long been prone to consumptive fits, and she castigated herself for not interfering the day before in her mother’s scheme. Really, was securing a husband worth dying for? Not that Jane was dying. Indeed, with Miss Bingley’s and Mrs. Hurst’s kind attentions, she would likely be well quite soon.
Kind
—Elizabeth had not anticipated invoking the word anywhere near Caroline Bingley.

When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and very unwillingly said so.

“Of course,” said Miss Bingley. “Please, take the carriage.”

“I couldn’t possibly.”

“I insist. We cannot have you falling ill, too.”

Elizabeth was about to accept, when Jane spoke hesitantly: “Truly, I would not part from you, Lizzy.”

“In that case,” said Miss Bingley, “perhaps, Miss Bennet, you ought to consider staying at Netherfield for the present.”

Mrs. Hurst cleared her throat, but did not add materially to the discussion, while Elizabeth pictured Charlotte Lucas, and guiltily remembered their shared pleasure at savaging Miss Bingley’s character.

“Do stay,” said Jane, gazing up at her from the bed.

“I will,” promised Elizabeth, holding her sister’s hand. “I won’t leave you.”

“You are both welcome to remain with us for as long as you wish,” added Caroline.

“Thank you,” said Elizabeth. “Your hospitality is genuinely appreciated.”

“You are quite welcome. I am sure you would do as much for Louisa and I, should our positions be reversed.”

As a servant was dispatched to Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply of clothes, Elizabeth reflected that before today, she might not have done even half as much for Mr. Bingley’s sisters.

Chapter Eight

A
T FIVE O'CLOCK THE TWO LADIES RETIRED
to dress, and at half-past six Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries which then poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the genuine solicitude of Mr. Bingley’s, she could not make a very favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. Mrs. Hurst, on hearing this, commented on how much she was grieved, how shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively she disliked being ill herself; and then appeared to think no more of the matter. Miss Bingley did not say much of anything at all, and the sisters’ apparent indifference towards Jane when not immediately before them soon restored Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her former dislike.

The younger brother, indeed, was the only member of the party whom she could regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Jane was evident, his attentions to herself were most kind, and they prevented her feeling herself so much an intruder as she believed she was considered by the others. She had very little notice from any but him. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst appeared engrossed by Mr. Darcy, who was engrossed as ever by himself; and as for Mr. Hurst, by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only to eat, drink, and play at cards; who, when he found her to prefer a plain dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.

When dinner was over, Elizabeth returned directly to Jane, and Mrs. Hurst 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.

Caroline held her tongue, for she easily recognised the game at which her sister was playing. Louisa suspected her of harboring an “unnatural affection,” as her elder sister deemed her sentiments, toward Elizabeth Bennet. This conversational bent was simply a trap intended to lure her out; but if she were to admit to any great interest in Miss Bennet, much less to obviously pursue a friendship, no matter how innocent, Louisa might have her sent away; could perhaps even have her cut off from her inheritance, as she had threatened to do more than once on the long journey south from Cumbria, and numerous times since arriving in Hertfordshire.

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

Caroline drew in a breath, and spoke: “She did, indeed. I could hardly keep my countenance. Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy.”

Her sister, confused, merely blinked at her. Then, recovering her composure, she continued in the original vein, “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,” 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 Caroline; “and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your own sister make such an exhibition.”

“Certainly not.”

“To walk three miles, or four miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and quite alone—it seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum.” Parroting this statement afforded Caroline a certain sense of dark satisfaction, for it was just what her sister and their school friends had used to say about her after one of her many solitary gambols about the Derbyshire countryside.

“I think it shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said Bingley, and Caroline could have kissed him for the unswerving goodness that neither she nor her sister had ever been able to afford.

“I am afraid, Miss Bingley,” observed Mr. Darcy in a tone only she could hear, “that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of Miss Bennet’s fine eyes.”

“Not at all,” she replied; “they were brightened by the exercise.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow at this retort.

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,” commented Darcy to Caroline.

“Yes,” admitted she, “and they have another who lives somewhere near Cheapside.” Beneath the table, she closed her hand in a fist. Louisa often conveniently ignored the fact that their own fortune came not from historically overflowing family coffers but from trade very recently completed, while Darcy rarely overlooked anything having to do with matters of fortune, his having been procured the time-honored way.

“That is capital,” said Mrs. Hurst, and she and Darcy both laughed.

“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 eldest sister gave it her hearty assent, while Caroline forced herself to smile as the others indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of the Miss Bennets’ vulgar relations.

With a renewal of an insincere tenderness that irked Caroline, Louisa suggested they return to Jane’s room on leaving the dining-parlour, and they 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, and making her sister the excuse, 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 Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, with a sideways glance at her elder sister, “must be a great reader, with pleasure in little else.”

“I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,” said 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 Mrs. Hurst, “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, “as it has been the work of many generations.”

“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!” exclaimed Mrs. Hurst. “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.”