Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (17 page)

Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to retort on Mrs. Bennet the comfort of having a daughter well married. She called at Longbourn rather oftener than usual to say how happy she was, though Mrs. Bennet’s sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have been enough to drive happiness away.

Between Elizabeth and Charlotte there was a restraint which kept them mutually silent on the subject. Elizabeth felt persuaded that no real confidence could ever subsist between them again. For she never truly believed Charlotte cared so little for matters of the heart, and for their opinions on marriage to be so far apart caused her to reexamine many conversations throughout their friendship. Her disappointment in Charlotte made her turn with fonder regard to her sister, of whose rectitude and delicacy she was sure her opinion could never be shaken, and for whose happiness she grew daily more anxious as Bingley had now been gone a week and nothing more was heard of his return.

Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her letter, and was counting the days till she might reasonably hope to hear again. The promised letter of thanks from Mr. Collins arrived on Tuesday, addressed to their father, and written with all the solemnity of gratitude which a twelvemonth’s abode in the family might have prompted. After discharging his conscience on that head, he proceeded to inform them with many rapturous expressions of his happiness in having obtained the affection of their amiable neighbor, Miss Lucas. He then explained it was merely with the view of enjoying her society that he had been so ready to close with their kind wish of seeing him again at Longbourn, whither he hoped to be able to return on Monday fortnight; for Lady Catherine, he added, so heartily approved his marriage that she wished it to take place as soon as possible, which he trusted would be an unanswerable argument with his Charlotte to name an early day for making him the happiest of men.

Mr. Collins’s return into Hertfordshire was no longer a matter of pleasure to Mrs. Bennet. It was very inconvenient and exceedingly troublesome. She hated having visitors in the house while her health was so indifferent, and lovers were the most disagreeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of Mrs. Bennet, and they gave way only to the greater distress of Mr. Bingley’s continued absence.

Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were comfortable on this subject. Day after day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more to Netherfield the whole winter. Even Elizabeth began to fear — not that Bingley was indifferent — but that his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as she was to admit an idea so destructive of Jane’s happiness, and so dishonorable to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent its frequently occurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling sisters and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss Darcy and the amusements of London might be too much, she feared, for the strength of his attachment.

As for Jane, her anxiety under this suspense was, of course, more painful than Elizabeth’s, but whatever she felt she was desirous of concealing. Therefore between herself and Elizabeth the subject was never alluded to. No such delicacy restrained her mother and an hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, express her impatience for his arrival, or even require Jane to confess that if he did not come back she would think herself very ill used. It took all Jane’s steady character to bear these attacks with reasonable tranquility.

Mr. Collins returned most punctually on Monday fortnight, but his reception at Longbourn was not quite so gracious as it had been on his first introduction. He was too happy to need much attention, and the business of love-making relieved the family from a great deal of his company. The chief of every day was spent by him at Lucas Lodge, and he sometimes returned to Longbourn only in time to make an apology for his absence before the family went to bed.

Mrs. Bennet was in a most pitiable state. The very mention of anything concerning the match threw her into an agony of illhumor. The sight of Miss Lucas was odious to her. As her successor in that house, she regarded her with jealous abhorrence. Whenever Charlotte came to see them, she concluded her to be anticipating the hour she was to take possession. Whenever the woman spoke in a low voice to Mr. Collins, she was convinced they talked of the Longbourn estate, and resolving to turn herself and her daughters out of the house as soon as Mr. Bennet was dead.

M
ISS BINGLEY’S LETTER ARRIVED and put an end to doubt. The very first sentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in London for the winter, and concluded with her brother’s regret at not having had time to pay his respects to his friends in Hertfordshire before he left the country.

Hope was over, entirely over. When Jane could attend to the rest of the letter, she found little, except the professed affection of the writer, that could give her any comfort. Miss Darcy’s praise occupied the chief of it. Her many attractions were again dwelt on and Caroline boasted joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict the accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her former letter.

Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon communicated the chief of all this, heard it in silent indignation. To Caroline’s assertion of her brother’s being partial to Miss Darcy she paid no credit. That he was really fond of Jane, she doubted not. As much as she had always been disposed to like him, she could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness of temper, that want of proper resolution, which now made him the slave of his designing friends and led him to sacrifice of his own happiness to the caprice of their inclination. Yet whether Bingley’s regard had really died away, or were suppressed by his friends’ interference; whether he had been aware of Jane’s attachment, or whether it had escaped his observation; whatever were the case, though her opinion of him must be materially affected by the difference, her sister’s situation remained the same.

A day or two passed before Jane had courage to speak of her feelings to Elizabeth. On Mrs. Bennet’s leaving them together, after a longer irritation than usual about Netherfield and its master, she could not help saying, “Oh, that my dear mother had more command over herself. She can have no idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. But I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgotten and we shall all be as we were before.”

Elizabeth looked at her sister, but said nothing.

“You doubt me?” Jane colored slightly. “Indeed, you have no reason. He may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my acquaintance, but that is all. I have nothing to reproach him with.” With a stronger voice she soon added, “It has been no more than an error of fancy on my side.”

“You are too good!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Your sweetness and disinterestedness are really angelic. I do not know what to say to you. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you deserve. There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more I am dissatisfied with it. Every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense. I have met with two instances lately, one I will not mention and the other is Charlotte’s unaccountable marriage.”

“Such feelings will ruin your happiness. You must make allowance for difference of situation and temper. Consider Mr. Collins’s respectability, and Charlotte’s steady, prudent character. Remember that she is one of a large family, and so as to fortune it is a most eligible match. She may feel something like regard and esteem for our cousin.”

“If I were persuaded that Charlotte had any regard for him, I should only think worse of her understanding than I now do of her heart. Mr. Collins is a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man. You must feel the woman who marries him cannot have a proper way of thinking. You shall not defend her, though it is Charlotte Lucas.”

“I think your language too strong,” replied Jane, “and I hope you will be convinced otherwise by seeing them happy together. But enough of this. You alluded to something else. You mentioned two instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I entreat you not to pain me by thinking that person to blame, and saying your opinion of him is sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy ourselves intentionally injured. It is very often nothing but our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than it does.”

“And men take care that they should.”

“If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified. I have no idea of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I am far from attributing any part of Mr. Bingley’s conduct to design, but without scheming to do wrong there may be error and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness, want of attention to other people’s feelings, and want of resolution, will do the business.”

“And do you impute it to either of those.”

“Yes, to the last.”

“You persist in supposing his sisters influence him.”

“Yes, in conjunction with his friend.”

“I cannot believe it. They can only wish his happiness. If he is attached to me, no other woman can secure it.”

“Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides his happiness. They may wish his increase of wealth and consequence. They may wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, great connections, and pride.”

“Beyond a doubt, they do wish him to choose Miss Darcy,” replied Jane, “but this may be from better feelings than you suppose. They have known her much longer than they have known me. No wonder if they love her better. Whatever their own wishes, it is very unlikely they should have opposed their brother’s. What sister would think herself at liberty to do it, unless there were something very objectionable? If they believed him attached to me, they would not try to part us. If he were so, they could not succeed.”

From this time Mr. Bingley’s name was scarcely ever mentioned between them.

Though Mrs. Bennet still continued to wonder and repine at his returning no more, Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently. “So, Lizzy,” said he one day, “your sister is crossed in love, I find. I congratulate her. Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction among her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to be long out-done by Jane. Let Wickham be your man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably.”

“We must not all expect Jane’s good fortune.”

“True,” said Mr. Bennet, “but it is a comfort to think that, whatever may befall you, you have an affectionate mother who will make the most of it.”

Mr. Wickham’s society was of material service in dispelling the gloom which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the Longbourn family. They saw him often, and to his other recommendations was now added that of general unreserve. The whole of what Elizabeth had already heard, his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him, was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed. Everybody was pleased to know how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they had known anything of the matter.

Jane was the only creature who could suppose there might be any extenuating circumstances in the case, unknown to the society of Hertfordshire. Her mild and steady candor always pleaded for allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes — but by everybody else Mr. Darcy was condemned as the worst of men.

Elizabeth was no exception, and her strong feelings against the gentleman were only intensified by the fact he was boorish enough to kiss her in her dreams upon occasion, forcing her to jilt any affections she might harbor for Mr. Wickham by presuming himself the object of her desires — a circumstance she added to his many known offenses, though he could hardly be responsible for the workings of her mind. Mr. Wickham, on the other hand, never entered her dreams beyond that of a secondary character.

On those unfortunate nights, she would awake to find herself breathing hard and her body aching. Never had she been put so out of sorts and she found she did not like the distraction. Though she did hope to someday have love and passion in marriage, it was most inconvenient to feel it when there was no immediate hope of such an event. Unengaged women could not go about kissing whoever they pleased, at least not while retaining a hope of a pleasant future. Oh, but if they could! If society allowed such indecencies, she might have kissed Mr. Darcy on the balcony for the sole purpose of driving him out of her head. Then she could convince her mind that his kisses would be no great thing, and hardly worth dreaming about. Even as she thought it, a small shiver coursed over her, bringing with it a feverish heat. Though she was loathe to give up her logical conclusion, she could not help the tiny whisper in the back of her mind that assured her she was most wrong in her assessment of the skill of that man’s lips.

A
FTER A DAY SPENT IN PROFESSIONS OF LOVE and schemes of felicity, Mr. Collins worked up the courage to kiss his fiancée. He had been thinking of it most earnestly since their private walk. Preparing her for this advance in their relationship, he felt, was his solemn duty, and therefore spent several minutes lecturing on the state of an engagement, and how it was very like a marriage in the eyes of all, especially with steady characters such as theirs. Then, proceeding to wet his mouth, as to not make the experience unpleasant, he took her by the arms and pressed his mouth to hers.

Charlotte was by no means deficient in knowledge when it came to such matters. She had grown up on a farm, tending to animals, and had a fair bit of knowledge of husbandry. Though she did not suppose humans mated like sheep, she understood well how a child was conceived. And, her mother wishing to help her advance her engagement before the joyous event took place, had been obliged to suggest helpful hints into securing Mr. Collin’s interest.

Though Charlotte hardly doubted Mr. Collin’s intent, she knew one word from Lady Catherine, whom she had never met, would be sufficient in turning his regard and making him end the engagement before the wedding took place. Only a strong inducement on her part would secure her lot and she intended to see that her future was indeed hers. So it was, as Mr. Collins pressed his lips to hers on the private bench, she allowed her hand to slide onto his thigh, as if by unconscious design, and pretended to be so enraptured by his kiss that she did not know what she did. Her fingers kneaded into his leg, indecently high, and she felt the muscles stiffen beneath her hand.

Mr. Collins instantly took hold of her face, pressing most earnestly against her so that her teeth cut into the tender flesh of her mouth. There was no art to his lovemaking, for the indelicate fumblings of his hands were hardly adept for the task. However, this did not stop him from taking control of the situation, and so he took Charlotte’s hand and moved it up to caress the heavy press of his manhood through his breeches. The sensation was all too pleasurable and he began to rock most insistently.

Trembling and sighing in great turn, he released her mouth, and quickly undid his breeches so that flesh might meet flesh. He felt no qualms in using his fiancée in such a way, for he had given the matter a great deal of thought in the time they were parted and determined that should such an occasion arise, he was well within his rights to take advantage of it. He led her hand to his shaft, and noted with great appreciation her look of modesty as she turned her eyes away from him. Applying pressure, he showed her how he wished for her to move.

To Charlotte, she thought of the task not unlike milking a cow. Though such thoughts were not those of a proper bride-to-be, she could not help them. She looked upon sex as another chore that must be performed. Mr. Collins was quite content to let her stroke him, as he buried his face into her chest and played with her breasts through the barrier of her gown. He made strange noises, breathing hard and fast, until finally she milked him of his seed. Afterwards, she was pleasantly surprised to find him so grateful for the service that he hardly said anything at all and they were obliged to pass several hours in silence.

Therefore, throughout the rest of his week-long visit, Charlotte often found her fiancé escorting her away to a private setting, where he would find some excuse to be close her. After the first time these scenarios ended the same — Charlotte would bare her breasts for him to lick and suck on, as she cradled his erection in her hands. And, though curious as to what it would be like to finish the deed in some other way, she did not press to hurry the events of the wedding night. Her aim was met. Mr. Collins felt very obligated to her for her services, and she felt certain not even Lady Catherine could overthrow her as the future Mrs. Collins.

Mr. Collins was called from his amiable Charlotte, and of the private services she rendered him, by the arrival of Saturday. The pain of separation was alleviated on his side, by preparations for the reception of his bride. He had reason to hope, that shortly after his return into Hertfordshire, the day would be fixed that was to make him the happiest of men. He took leave of his relations at Longbourn with as much solemnity as before, wished his fair cousins health and happiness, and promised their father another letter of thanks.

On the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receiving her brother and his wife, who came as usual to spend the Christmas at Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatly superior to his sister by nature as well as education. The Netherfield ladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man, who lived by trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been so well-bred and agreeable. Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger than Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips, was an intelligent, elegant woman, and a great favorite with all her Longbourn nieces. Between the two eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a particular regard. They had frequently stayed with her in town.

The first part of Mrs. Gardiner’s business on her arrival was to distribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. When this was done she had a less active part to play. It became her turn to listen. Mrs. Bennet had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. They had all been very illused since she last saw her sister. Two of her girls had been upon the point of marriage, but nothing came of it.

“I do not blame Jane,” she continued, “for Jane would have got Mr. Bingley if she could. But Lizzy! Oh, sister, it is very hard to think that she might have been Mr. Collins’s wife by this time, had it not been for her own perverseness. He made her an offer in this very room, and she refused him. The consequence of it is that Lady Lucas will have a daughter married before I have, and that the Longbourn estate is just as much entailed as ever. The Lucases are very artful people indeed. They are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of them, but so it is. However, your coming is the greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us of long sleeves.”

Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news had been given before in the course of Jane and Elizabeth’s correspondence with her, made her sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her nieces, turned the conversation.

When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. “It seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane. I am sorry it went off, but these things happen so often. A young man, such as you describe Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty girl for a few weeks, and when accident separates them so easily forgets her. These sorts of inconsistencies are very frequent.”

“An excellent consolation in its way,” said Elizabeth, “but it will not do for us. We do not suffer by accident. It does not often happen that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of independent fortune to think no more of a girl whom he was violently in love with only a few days before.”

“But that expression of ‘violently in love’ is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings which arise from a half-hour’s acquaintance, as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how violent was Mr. Bingley’s love.”

“I never saw a more promising inclination. He grew quite inattentive to other people and wholly engrossed by her. Every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he offended two or three young ladies, by not asking them to dance. I spoke to him twice myself, without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love.”

“Oh, yes, of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor Jane! I am sorry for her. With her disposition, she may not get over it immediately. It had better have happened to you, Lizzy. You would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. Do you think she would be prevailed upon to go back with us? Change of scene might be of service, and perhaps a little relief from home may be as useful as anything.”

Pleased with this proposal, Elizabeth felt persuaded of her sister’s ready acquiescence.

“I hope,” added Mrs. Gardiner, “that no consideration with regard to this young man will influence her. We live in so different a part of town, all our connections are so different, and we go out so little, that it is very improbable that they should meet at all unless he comes to see her.”

“And that is quite impossible for he is now in the custody of his friend, Mr. Darcy, who would no more suffer him to call on Jane in such a part of London. Mr. Darcy may perhaps have heard of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he would hardly think a month’s ablution enough to cleanse him from its impurities, were he once to enter it. And depend upon it, Mr. Bingley never stirs without him.”

“So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But his sister will not be able to help calling.”

“She will drop the acquaintance entirely.”

In spite of the certainty, Elizabeth felt a solicitude on the subject which convinced her, on examination, that she did not consider it entirely hopeless. It was possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that his affection might be reanimated and the influence of his friends successfully combated by the more natural influence of Jane’s attractions.

Jane accepted her aunt’s invitation with pleasure. The Bingleys were in her thoughts at the same time. She hoped by Caroline’s not living in the same house with her brother, she might occasionally spend a morning with her without any danger of seeing him.

The Gardiners stayed a week at Longbourn; and what with the Philipses, the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its engagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainment of her brother and sister that they did not once sit down to a family dinner. When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always made part of it — of which Mr. Wickham was sure to be one. On these occasions, Mrs. Gardiner rendered suspicious by Elizabeth’s warm commendation, narrowly observed them both. Without supposing them, from what she saw, to be very seriously in love, their preference of each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy. She resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject before she left Hertfordshire, and represent to her the imprudence of encouraging such an attachment.

To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of affording pleasure, unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago, before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that very part of Derbyshire to which he belonged. They had, therefore, many acquaintances in common. Though Wickham had been little there since the death of Darcy’s father, it was yet in his power to give her fresher intelligence of her former friends than she had been in the way of procuring.

Mrs. Gardiner had seen Pemberley, and had known the late Mr. Darcy by character perfectly well. Here consequently was an inexhaustible subject of discourse. In comparing her recollection of Pemberley with the minute description which Wickham could give, and in bestowing her tribute of praise on the character of its late possessor, she was delighting both him and herself. On being made acquainted with the present Mr. Darcy’s treatment of him, she tried to remember some of that gentleman’s reputed disposition when he was a lad which might agree with it, and was confident at last that she recollected having heard Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured boy.

Mrs. Gardiner’s caution to Elizabeth was punctually and kindly given on the first favorable opportunity of speaking to her alone. After honestly telling her what she thought, she went on, “You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love merely because you are warned against it. Therefore, I will speak openly. I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve yourself or endeavor to involve him in an affection which the want of fortune would make so very imprudent. I have nothing to say against him. He is a most interesting young man. If he had the fortune he ought to have, I should think you could not do better. But as it is, you must not let your fancy run away with you. You have sense, and we all expect you to use it. Your father would depend on your resolution and good conduct, I am sure. You must not disappoint.”

“My dear aunt, you are serious indeed.”

“Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious likewise.”

“Well, then, you need not be under any alarm. I will take care of myself and of Mr. Wickham too. He shall not be in love with me, if I can prevent it.”

“Elizabeth, you are not serious now.”

“I beg your pardon, I will try again. At present I am not in love with Mr. Wickham. He is, beyond all comparison, the most agreeable man I ever saw. I should be very sorry to be the means of making any of my family unhappy, but since we see every day that, where there is affection, young people are seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune from entering into engagements with each other. How can I promise to be wiser than so many of my fellow-creatures if I am tempted? All that I can promise you is not to be in a hurry to believe myself his first object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing.”