Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (8 page)

But Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination to remain with them, laughingly answered, “No, no, stay where you are. You are charmingly grouped. The picturesque would be spoiled by admitting a fourth.”

Darcy watched her run happily down the path, away from them, and was sorry to see her go. He imagined she was excited at the hope of being at home again in a day or two. Her sister was already much recovered and intended to leave her room for a couple of hours that evening. Feeling a tug on his arm, he was forced to continue on with Bingley’s sisters. He said nothing and they contented themselves with comments on the newly favored subject of Elizabeth and her family.

W
HEN THE LADIES REMOVED AFTER DINNER, Elizabeth hurried to her sister, and seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her into the drawing room where she was welcomed by her two friends. Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared. Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humor, and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit.

But when the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the first object. Miss Bingley’s eyes were instantly turned toward Darcy, and she had something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed himself to Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation. Mr. Hurst also made her a slight bow, and said he was “very glad.” However, diffuseness and warmth remained for Bingley’s salutation. He was full of joy and attention. The first half-hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she should suffer from the change of room, and she removed at his desire to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be further from the door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to anyone else. Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great delight.

When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the card table, but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr. Darcy did not wish for cards. Mr. Hurst soon found even his open petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and the silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to justify her. Mr. Hurst had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of the sofas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book and Miss Bingley soon after did the same. Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and rings, joined now and then in her brother’s conversation with Miss Bennet.

Miss Bingley’s attention was as much engaged in watching Mr. Darcy’s progress through his book as in reading her own, and she was perpetually making some inquiry or looking at his page. She could not win him, however, to any conversation. He merely answered her question, and read on. At length, exhausted by the attempt to be amused with her own book, which she had only chosen because it was the second volume of his, she gave a great yawn and said, “How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way. I declare there is no enjoyment like reading. How much sooner one tires of anything other than a book. When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I do not have an excellent library.”

No one made any reply. She yawned again, threw aside her book, and cast her eyes round the room in quest for some amusement. Hearing her brother mention a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly towards him and said, “By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party. I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure.”

“If you mean Darcy,” said her brother, “he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins, for the ball is quite a settled thing.”

“I should like balls infinitely better,” she replied with a glance toward Darcy to make sure he heard her, “if they were carried on in a different manner. There is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing were made the order of the day.”

“Much more rational,” Bingley answered, his attention still not fully on his sister’s interruptions, “but it would not be near so much like a ball.”

Miss Bingley made no answer. She smiled at Darcy with no true conception of his completely ignoring her. Her comment had, after all, been solely to impress him with the intelligent pursuits of her mind. Soon afterwards she got up and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well, but Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In the desperation of her feelings, she resolved on one effort more, and, turning to Elizabeth, said, “Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.”

Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed. Miss Bingley succeeded no less in the real object of her civility, for Mr. Darcy looked up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. He was directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing, “There can be but two motives for your choosing to walk up and down the room together, either of which my joining you would interfere.”

“What could he mean?” Miss Bingley asked Elizabeth, clearly dying to know. “Can you understand him.”

“Not at all, but depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it.”

Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in anything, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his two motives.

“I have not the smallest objection to explaining them,” said he, as soon as she allowed him to speak. “You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other’s confidence and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking. If the first, I would be completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.”

“Shocking!” cried Miss Bingley. “I never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech.”

“Nothing so easy, if you have the inclination,” said Elizabeth. “Tease him and laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.”

Elizabeth had never been so conscious of her figure as she was at the moment. His speech hinted that he watched them in a way much more than in passing. A heat built within her stomach and she dared not look at him for fear she would see exactly where his eyes wandered. What did he think when he looked at her? Did he find pleasure in what he saw? Did he look at her often in such a bold manner? If so, his expressions never gave away his thoughts.

“But upon my honor, I do not,” Miss Bingley said, drawing Elizabeth’s thoughts back to her walking companion. “I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. I cannot tease calmness of manner and presence of mind. Should we laugh, we will expose ourselves as foolish for attempting to laugh without cause.”

When she glanced at him, she found he studied them and listened to everything Miss Bingley said, for the woman was speaking loud enough for anyone who cared to hear. Elizabeth did not answer so vociferously, though she did not hide her thoughts in a whisper. “I fear then that Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at.”

“Miss Bingley has given me too much credit,” said Darcy. “The wisest and the best of men — nay, the wisest and best of their actions — may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.”

“Certainly,” replied Elizabeth. “There are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But I suppose these are precisely what you are without.”

“Perhaps that is not possible for anyone,” said he. “But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”

“Such as vanity and pride.” Elizabeth studied him as she tried to fully determine his mysterious character.

“Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed,” he agreed. There was something to his tone that caused a small shiver to course over her body and she delicately pulled from Miss Bingley’s arm so the woman would not detect it. Darcy continued, “But pride; where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.”

Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.

“Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume,” said Miss Bingley, moving to take up Elizabeth’s arm once more. She held tighter to it than before and turned in their stroll so they walked away from the object of their musings. “Pray what is the result.”

“I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect.” As they moved, she tried not to be self-conscious. “He owns it himself without disguise.”

“No,” said Darcy, “I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but I hope they are not of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is too little yielding — certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot easily forgive the follies and vices of others, nor their offenses against me. My temper would perhaps be called resentful, and my good opinion once lost is lost forever.”

“That is a failing indeed,” agreed Elizabeth. They turned to face him, strolling back to where he sat. “Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me. Though it is an uncommon advantage, it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances for I dearly love a laugh.”

“There is in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil — a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome,” he said.

“And your defect is to hate everybody.”

“And yours,” he replied with a surprisingly bright smile, “is willfully to misunderstand them.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, completely unaware of how the eyes of the room had focused on their discussion. At some point she had wandered away from Miss Bingley and now stood close to him; not so close as to be improper, but close enough to turn away others from their conversation.

“Do let us have a little music,” cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share.

Elizabeth jolted in surprise, blinking rapidly as she broke eye contact with Darcy. She took quick steps away from him toward the safety of Jane’s presence. Her sister, though weak from the illness looked perfectly content to be the source of Mr. Bingley’s unwavering attention. The firelight gave her a becoming glow, which probably hid the feminine blush that budding affection often brought on.

“Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst?” Miss Bingley asked. Her sister had not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was opened.

Darcy watched Elizabeth move nearer her sister, sorry that their discussion was at an end. He found himself taken with the directness of her attention and the playfulness of her manner. She spoke of not being able to tease him, and yet her words had done just that. He could not be hurt by such attention from her, for there was no spite in her manner or words. When she looked at him, he felt as if they might someday be intimate friends. However, the spell he felt under her attention was successfully broken by the sound of music, and after a few moments’ recollection he was not sorry for it. Intimate friends? The idea was laughable. Whatever intimacies he wanted to develop between them was not exclusive to friendship. It was best if he did not pursue such impulses. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much open attention.

I
N CONSEQUENCE OF AN AGREEMENT between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the next morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which would exactly finish Jane’s week, could not bring herself to receive them with pleasure before that time. In her letter she added her denial that, if Mr. Bingley and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well. Fearful of it being considered that they intruded needlessly long, Elizabeth urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley’s carriage immediately. At length it was settled that their original design of leaving Netherfield that morning should be mentioned, and the request made.

The communication excited many professions of concern. Enough was said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day to work on Jane, and their going was deferred till the morrow. Miss Bingley was then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other.

The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be safe for her, that she was not recovered enough, but Jane was firm where she felt herself to be right.

To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence for he felt Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked. Miss Bingley was uncivil to
her
, and more teasing than usual to himself. He resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should
now
escape him, nothing that could elevate Elizabeth with the hope of influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been suggested his behavior during the last day must have material weight in confirming or crushing it. This was the only way to successfully banish her from him, for any outcome of the further developing of their friendship could only complicate his feelings and devastate hers. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were at one time left by themselves for half-an-hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her. This effort it took cost him his place, and he read the same paragraph nearly twenty times without retaining a word of it.

On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, took place. Now as the visit came to an end, Miss Bingley’s civility to Elizabeth increased very rapidly, as did her affection for Jane; and when they parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with the former. Elizabeth took leave of the whole party in the liveliest of spirits, excited by the prospect of going home.

After a day of being ignored by Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth was surprised by his attention when coming to see them off. When she stepped towards the carriage, it looked for the briefest of moments as if he would hand her up. Instead, Mr. Bingley extended his hand first and he delivered her safely within. Darcy’s eyes fixed on her as the carriage rolled away and she found herself leaning against the window overlong to stare back. Neither of them pulled their gaze away first and it was only after the carriage turned from view that the contact was severed.

They were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet wondered at their coming, and thought them very wrong to give so much trouble, and was sure Jane would have caught cold again. But their father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really glad to see them. He had felt their importance in the family circle for the evening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much of its animation, and almost all its sense by the absence of Jane and Elizabeth.

They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of human nature; and had some extracts to admire, and some new observations of threadbare morality to listen to. Catherine and Lydia had information for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday; several of the officers had dined lately with their uncle, a private named Sykes had been flogged, and it had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was going to be married.

Elizabeth, conscious of her sister’s tired state, urged Jane to bed early. Catherine and Lydia protested that they had more news to tell, and only let Jane go after securing a promise from her to hear all about the regiment the following morning. When Jane was safely tucked away in bed, Elizabeth took a chair next to the window to watch over her. She pulled her legs under her and wrapped a warm blanket over her shoulders, alternating her attention between Jane and the miles separating Longbourn from Netherfield.

In the quiet safety of her room, she was able at last to think in great detail about the whole of their stay at Netherfield — of what was done and what was said. Her opinion of everyone was pretty much fixed, save for one. Mr. Darcy remained somewhat of a mystery. Though she knew him to be prideful and with somber faults, as had been determined during the course of their conversations, the conviction of this knowledge did not coincide with the way he sometimes looked at her.

The more she thought of it, the more she was convinced there might have been heat within his gaze while she walked with Miss Bingley. The idea caused a curious longing within her stomach and thighs. Curious because, though she full well understood its meaning, she could not fathom why it would occur to the idea of someone she had determined to be as disagreeable as Mr. Darcy. Then, remembering how he ignored her when they were alone, but talked to her when the others were about, she determined that the heat in his gaze was not for her and that, perhaps, his conversation with her was a way to tease Miss Bingley. For, though that lady did not understand his character very well, Mr. Darcy surely understood hers.

Content at last that her assumptions of the visit were correct, she pulled the blanket tighter. Unfortunately, the ache she felt for the disagreeable gentleman did not go away. With Jane in the room, there was no hope of relieving it — not that she wanted to fantasize about Mr. Darcy. That would be a mistake, for once she allowed him to invade the intimacy of such acts, he would be forever associated with them and she would never be able to look at him in the eye again.