pride and prejudice · 2008. 1. 23. · chapter 28 203 chapter 29 209 chapter 30 219 chapter 31 225...

Pride and Prejudice

Jane Austen

The preparer of this public-domain (U.S.) textis unknown. The Project Gutenberg edi-tion (designated “pandp12”) was convertedto LATEX using GutenMark software and re-edited (formatting only) by Ron Burkey. Re-port problems to [email protected]. RevisionC of this document differs from revision B onlyin that m-dashes have been corrected from “—-” to “—”.

Revision: CDate: 01/12/08

Contents

Chapter 1 1

Chapter 2 5

Chapter 3 9

Chapter 4 17

Chapter 5 21

Chapter 6 25

Chapter 7 35

Chapter 8 43

Chapter 9 51

Chapter 10 59

Chapter 11 69

Chapter 12 75

Chapter 13 79

Chapter 14 87

i

ii

Chapter 15 93

Chapter 16 101

Chapter 17 113

Chapter 18 119

Chapter 19 137

Chapter 20 145

Chapter 21 151

Chapter 22 159

Chapter 23 167

Chapter 24 173

Chapter 25 181

Chapter 26 187

Chapter 27 197

Chapter 28 203

Chapter 29 209

Chapter 30 219

Chapter 31 225

Chapter 32 231

Chapter 33 237

iii

Chapter 34 245

Chapter 35 253

Chapter 36 267

Chapter 37 275

Chapter 38 281

Chapter 39 285

Chapter 40 291

Chapter 41 299

Chapter 42 309

Chapter 43 317

Chapter 44 335

Chapter 45 345

Chapter 46 353

Chapter 47 365

Chapter 48 381

Chapter 49 391

Chapter 50 401

Chapter 51 411

Chapter 52 419

iv

Chapter 53 433

Chapter 54 445

Chapter 55 451

Chapter 56 461

Chapter 57 473

Chapter 58 481

Chapter 59 491

Chapter 60 501

Chapter 61 507

Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged, thata single man in possession of a good fortune,must be in want of a wife.

However little known the feelings or viewsof such a man may be on his first entering aneighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed inthe minds of the surrounding families, that heis considered the rightful property of some oneor other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady tohim one day, “have you heard that NetherfieldPark is let at last?”

Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.“But it is,” returned she; “for Mrs. Long has

just been here, and she told me all about it.”Mr. Bennet made no answer.“Do you not want to know who has taken

it?” cried his wife impatiently.“You want to tell me, and I have no objec-

tion to hearing it.”This was invitation enough.“Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long

says that Netherfield is taken by a young manof large fortune from the north of England;that he came down on Monday in a chaise and

1

2 Pride and Prejudice

four to see the place, and was so much de-lighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morrisimmediately; that he is to take possession be-fore Michaelmas, and some of his servants areto be in the house by the end of next week.”

“What is his name?”“Bingley.”“Is he married or single?”“Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single

man of large fortune; four or five thousand ayear. What a fine thing for our girls!”

“How so? How can it affect them?”“My dear Mr. Bennet,” replied his wife,

“how can you be so tiresome! You must knowthat I am thinking of his marrying one ofthem.”

“Is that his design in settling here?”“Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so!

But it is very likely that he may fall in lovewith one of them, and therefore you must visithim as soon as he comes.”

“I see no occasion for that. You and thegirls may go, or you may send them by them-selves, which perhaps will be still better, foras you are as handsome as any of them, Mr.Bingley may like you the best of the party.”

“My dear, you flatter me. I certainly havehad my share of beauty, but I do not pre-tend to be anything extraordinary now. Whena woman has five grown-up daughters, sheought to give over thinking of her own beauty.”

“In such cases, a woman has not oftenmuch beauty to think of.”

“But, my dear, you must indeed go and seeMr. Bingley when he comes into the neigh-

Chapter 1 3

bourhood.”“It is more than I engage for, I assure you.”“But consider your daughters. Only think

what an establishment it would be for one ofthem. Sir William and Lady Lucas are deter-mined to go, merely on that account, for ingeneral, you know, they visit no newcomers.Indeed you must go, for it will be impossiblefor us to visit him if you do not.”

“You are over-scrupulous, surely. I daresay Mr. Bingley will be very glad to see you;and I will send a few lines by you to assurehim of my hearty consent to his marryingwhichever he chooses of the girls; though Imust throw in a good word for my little Lizzy.”

“I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzyis not a bit better than the others; and I amsure she is not half so handsome as Jane, norhalf so good-humoured as Lydia. But you arealways giving her the preference.”

“They have none of them much to recom-mend them,” replied he; “they are all silly andignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has some-thing more of quickness than her sisters.”

“Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your ownchildren in such a way? You take delight invexing me. You have no compassion for mypoor nerves.”

“You mistake me, my dear. I have a highrespect for your nerves. They are my oldfriends. I have heard you mention themwith consideration these last twenty years atleast.”

Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quickparts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice,


that the experience of three-and-twenty yearshad been insufficient to make his wife under-stand his character. Her mind was less diffi-cult to develop. She was a woman of mean un-derstanding, little information, and uncertaintemper. When she was discontented, she fan-cied herself nervous. The business of her lifewas to get her daughters married; its solacewas visiting and news.

Chapter 2

Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of thosewho waited on Mr. Bingley. He had always in-tended to visit him, though to the last alwaysassuring his wife that he should not go; andtill the evening after the visit was paid shehad no knowledge of it. It was then disclosedin the following manner. Observing his sec-ond daughter employed in trimming a hat, hesuddenly addressed her with:

“I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy.”“We are not in a way to know what Mr. Bin-

gley likes,” said her mother resentfully, “sincewe are not to visit.”

“But you forget, mamma,” said Elizabeth,“that we shall meet him at the assemblies,and that Mrs. Long promised to introducehim.”

“I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any suchthing. She has two nieces of her own. She isa selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have noopinion of her.”

“No more have I,” said Mr. Bennet; “and Iam glad to find that you do not depend on herserving you.”

Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any re-

5


ply, but, unable to contain herself, beganscolding one of her daughters.

“Don’t keep coughing so, Kitty, forHeaven’s sake! Have a little compassion onmy nerves. You tear them to pieces.”

“Kitty has no discretion in her coughs,”said her father; “she times them ill.”

“I do not cough for my own amusement,”replied Kitty fretfully. “When is your next ballto be, Lizzy?”

“To-morrow fortnight.”“Aye, so it is,” cried her mother, “and Mrs.

Long does not come back till the day before; soit will be impossible for her to introduce him,for she will not know him herself.”

“Then, my dear, you may have the advan-tage of your friend, and introduce Mr. Bingleyto her.”

“Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, whenI am not acquainted with him myself; how canyou be so teasing?”

“I honour your circumspection. A fort-night’s acquaintance is certainly very little.One cannot know what a man really is by theend of a fortnight. But if we do not venturesomebody else will; and after all, Mrs. Longand her daughters must stand their chance;and, therefore, as she will think it an act ofkindness, if you decline the office, I will takeit on myself.”

The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Ben-net said only, “Nonsense, nonsense!”

“What can be the meaning of that em-phatic exclamation?” cried he. “Do you con-sider the forms of introduction, and the stress

Chapter 2 7

that is laid on them, as nonsense? I cannotquite agree with you there. What say you,Mary? For you are a young lady of deep reflec-tion, I know, and read great books and makeextracts.”

Mary wished to say something sensible,but knew not how.

“While Mary is adjusting her ideas,” hecontinued, “let us return to Mr. Bingley.”

“I am sick of Mr. Bingley,” cried his wife.“I am sorry to hear that; but why did not

you tell me that before? If I had known asmuch this morning I certainly would not havecalled on him. It is very unlucky; but as I haveactually paid the visit, we cannot escape theacquaintance now.”

The astonishment of the ladies was justwhat he wished; that of Mrs. Bennet perhapssurpassing the rest; though, when the first tu-mult of joy was over, she began to declare thatit was what she had expected all the while.

“How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Ben-net! But I knew I should persuade you at last.I was sure you loved your girls too well to ne-glect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleasedI am! and it is such a good joke, too, that youshould have gone this morning and never saida word about it till now.”

“Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as youchoose,” said Mr. Bennet; and, as he spoke, heleft the room, fatigued with the raptures of hiswife.

“What an excellent father you have, girls!”said she, when the door was shut. “I do notknow how you will ever make him amends for


his kindness; or me, either, for that matter. Atour time of life it is not so pleasant, I can tellyou, to be making new acquaintances everyday; but for your sakes, we would do anything.Lydia, my love, though you are the youngest,I dare say Mr. Bingley will dance with you atthe next ball.”

“Oh!” said Lydia stoutly, “I am not afraid;for though I am the youngest, I’m the tallest.”

The rest of the evening was spent in conjec-turing how soon he would return Mr. Bennet’svisit, and determining when they should askhim to dinner.

Chapter 3

Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with theassistance of her five daughters, could askon the subject, was sufficient to draw fromher husband any satisfactory description ofMr. Bingley. They attacked him in variousways—with barefaced questions, ingenioussuppositions, and distant surmises; but heeluded the skill of them all, and they were atlast obliged to accept the second-hand intel-ligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Herreport was highly favourable. Sir William hadbeen delighted with him. He was quite young,wonderfully handsome, extremely agreeable,and, to crown the whole, he meant to be atthe next assembly with a large party. Nothingcould be more delightful! To be fond of danc-ing was a certain step towards falling in love;and very lively hopes of Mr. Bingley’s heartwere entertained.

“If I can but see one of my daughters hap-pily settled at Netherfield,” said Mrs. Bennetto her husband, “and all the others equallywell married, I shall have nothing to wish for.”

In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr.Bennet’s visit, and sat about ten minutes with

9


him in his library. He had entertained hopesof being admitted to a sight of the youngladies, of whose beauty he had heard much;but he saw only the father. The ladies weresomewhat more fortunate, for they had theadvantage of ascertaining from an upper win-dow that he wore a blue coat, and rode a blackhorse.

An invitation to dinner was soon after-wards dispatched; and already had Mrs. Ben-net planned the courses that were to do creditto her housekeeping, when an answer arrivedwhich deferred it all. Mr. Bingley was obligedto be in town the following day, and, conse-quently, unable to accept the honour of theirinvitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite discon-certed. She could not imagine what businesshe could have in town so soon after his ar-rival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fearthat he might be always flying about from oneplace to another, and never settled at Nether-field as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quietedher fears a little by starting the idea of his be-ing gone to London only to get a large partyfor the ball; and a report soon followed thatMr. Bingley was to bring twelve ladies andseven gentlemen with him to the assembly.The girls grieved over such a number of ladies,but were comforted the day before the ballby hearing, that instead of twelve he broughtonly six with him from London—his five sis-ters and a cousin. And when the party en-tered the assembly room it consisted of onlyfive altogether—Mr. Bingley, his two sisters,the husband of the eldest, and another young

Chapter 3 11

man.Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentle-

manlike; he had a pleasant countenance, andeasy, unaffected manners. His sisters werefine women, with an air of decided fashion.His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely lookedthe gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soondrew the attention of the room by his fine, tallperson, handsome features, noble mien, andthe report which was in general circulationwithin five minutes after his entrance, of hishaving ten thousand a year. The gentlemenpronounced him to be a fine figure of a man,the ladies declared he was much handsomerthan Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at withgreat admiration for about half the evening,till his manners gave a disgust which turnedthe tide of his popularity; for he was discov-ered to be proud; to be above his company, andabove being pleased; and not all his large es-tate in Derbyshire could then save him fromhaving a most forbidding, disagreeable coun-tenance, and being unworthy to be comparedwith his friend.

Mr. Bingley had soon made himself ac-quainted with all the principal people in theroom; he was lively and unreserved, dancedevery dance, was angry that the ball closedso early, and talked of giving one himselfat Netherfield. Such amiable qualities mustspeak for themselves. What a contrast be-tween him and his friend! Mr. Darcy dancedonly once with Mrs. Hurst and once withMiss Bingley, declined being introduced to anyother lady, and spent the rest of the evening


in walking about the room, speaking occasion-ally to one of his own party. His characterwas decided. He was the proudest, most dis-agreeable man in the world, and everybodyhoped that he would never come there again.Amongst the most violent against him wasMrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his general be-haviour was sharpened into particular resent-ment by his having slighted one of her daugh-ters.

Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by thescarcity of gentlemen, to sit down for twodances; and during part of that time, Mr.Darcy had been standing near enough for herto hear a conversation between him and Mr.Bingley, who came from the dance for a fewminutes, to press his friend to join it.

“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have youdance. I hate to see you standing about byyourself in this stupid manner. You had muchbetter dance.”

“I certainly shall not. You know how I de-test it, unless I am particularly acquaintedwith my partner. At such an assembly as thisit would be insupportable. Your sisters are en-gaged, and there is not another woman in theroom whom it would not be a punishment tome to stand up with.”

“I would not be so fastidious as you are,”cried Mr. Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon myhonour, I never met with so many pleasantgirls in my life as I have this evening; andthere are several of them you see uncommonlypretty.”

“You are dancing with the only handsome

Chapter 3 13

girl in the room,” said Mr. Darcy, looking atthe eldest Miss Bennet.

“Oh! She is the most beautiful creature Iever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sit-ting down just behind you, who is very pretty,and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me askmy partner to introduce you.”

“Which do you mean?” and turning roundhe looked for a moment at Elizabeth, tillcatching her eye, he withdrew his own andcoldly said: “She is tolerable, but not hand-some enough to tempt me; I am in no humourat present to give consequence to young ladieswho are slighted by other men. You had betterreturn to your partner and enjoy her smiles,for you are wasting your time with me.”

Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcywalked off; and Elizabeth remained with novery cordial feelings toward him. She told thestory, however, with great spirit among herfriends; for she had a lively, playful disposi-tion, which delighted in anything ridiculous.

The evening altogether passed off pleas-antly to the whole family. Mrs. Bennet hadseen her eldest daughter much admired bythe Netherfield party. Mr. Bingley had dancedwith her twice, and she had been distin-guished by his sisters. Jane was as much grat-ified by this as her mother could be, thoughin a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane’s plea-sure. Mary had heard herself mentioned toMiss Bingley as the most accomplished girl inthe neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydiahad been fortunate enough never to be with-out partners, which was all that they had yet


learnt to care for at a ball. They returned,therefore, in good spirits to Longbourn, thevillage where they lived, and of which theywere the principal inhabitants. They foundMr. Bennet still up. With a book he was re-gardless of time; and on the present occasionhe had a good deal of curiosity as to the eventsof an evening which had raised such splendidexpectations. He had rather hoped that hiswife’s views on the stranger would be disap-pointed; but he soon found out that he had adifferent story to hear.

“Oh! my dear Mr. Bennet,” as she enteredthe room, “we have had a most delightfulevening, a most excellent ball. I wish youhad been there. Jane was so admired, noth-ing could be like it. Everybody said how wellshe looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quitebeautiful, and danced with her twice! Onlythink of that, my dear; he actually dancedwith her twice! and she was the only creaturein the room that he asked a second time. Firstof all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexedto see him stand up with her! But, however,he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobodycan, you know; and he seemed quite struckwith Jane as she was going down the dance.So he inquired who she was, and got intro-duced, and asked her for the two next. Thenthe two third he danced with Miss King, andthe two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the twofifth with Jane again, and the two sixth withLizzy, and the Boulanger—”

“If he had had any compassion for me,”cried her husband impatiently, “he would not

Chapter 3 15

have danced half so much! For God’s sake,say no more of his partners. O that he hadsprained his ankle in the first place!”

“Oh! my dear, I am quite delighted withhim. He is so excessively handsome! Andhis sisters are charming women. I never inmy life saw anything more elegant than theirdresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs. Hurst’sgown—”

Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Ben-net protested against any description of fin-ery. She was therefore obliged to seek an-other branch of the subject, and related, withmuch bitterness of spirit and some exaggera-tion, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy.

“But I can assure you,” she added, “thatLizzy does not lose much by not suiting hisfancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horridman, not at all worth pleasing. So high and soconceited that there was no enduring him! Hewalked here, and he walked there, fancyinghimself so very great! Not handsome enoughto dance with! I wish you had been there, mydear, to have given him one of your set-downs.I quite detest the man.”

Chapter 4

When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the for-mer, who had been cautious in her praise ofMr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister justhow very much she admired him.

“He is just what a young man ought to be,”said she, “sensible, good-humoured, lively;and I never saw such happy manners!—somuch ease, with such perfect good breeding!”

“He is also handsome,” replied Elizabeth,“which a young man ought likewise to be, ifhe possibly can. His character is thereby com-plete.”

“I was very much flattered by his askingme to dance a second time. I did not expectsuch a compliment.”

“Did not you? I did for you. But thatis one great difference between us. Compli-ments always take you by surprise, and menever. What could be more natural than hisasking you again? He could not help seeingthat you were about five times as pretty asevery other woman in the room. No thanksto his gallantry for that. Well, he certainlyis very agreeable, and I give you leave to likehim. You have liked many a stupider person.”

17


“Dear Lizzy!”“Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know,

to like people in general. You never see a faultin anybody. All the world are good and agree-able in your eyes. I never heard you speak illof a human being in your life.”

“I would not wish to be hasty in censuringanyone; but I always speak what I think.”

“I know you do; and it is that which makesthe wonder. With your good sense, to beso honestly blind to the follies and nonsenseof others! Affectation of candour is commonenough—one meets with it everywhere. Butto be candid without ostentation or design—totake the good of everybody’s character andmake it still better, and say nothing of thebad—belongs to you alone. And so you likethis man’s sisters, too, do you? Their mannersare not equal to his.”

“Certainly not—at first. But they arevery pleasing women when you converse withthem. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother,and keep his house; and I am much mistakenif we shall not find a very charming neighbourin her.”

Elizabeth listened in silence, but was notconvinced; their behaviour at the assemblyhad not been calculated to please in general;and with more quickness of observation andless pliancy of temper than her sister, andwith a judgement too unassailed by any at-tention to herself, she was very little disposedto approve them. They were in fact very fineladies; not deficient in good humour whenthey were pleased, nor in the power of making

Chapter 4 19

themselves agreeable when they chose it, butproud and conceited. They were rather hand-some, had been educated in one of the firstprivate seminaries in town, had a fortune oftwenty thousand pounds, were in the habit ofspending more than they ought, and of asso-ciating with people of rank, and were there-fore in every respect entitled to think well ofthemselves, and meanly of others. They wereof a respectable family in the north of Eng-land; a circumstance more deeply impressedon their memories than that their brother’sfortune and their own had been acquired bytrade.

Mr. Bingley inherited property to theamount of nearly a hundred thousand poundsfrom his father, who had intended to purchasean estate, but did not live to do it. Mr. Bing-ley intended it likewise, and sometimes madechoice of his county; but as he was now pro-vided with a good house and the liberty of amanor, it was doubtful to many of those whobest knew the easiness of his temper, whetherhe might not spend the remainder of his daysat Netherfield, and leave the next generationto purchase.

His sisters were anxious for his having anestate of his own; but, though he was nowonly established as a tenant, Miss Bingleywas by no means unwilling to preside at histable—nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had marrieda man of more fashion than fortune, less dis-posed to consider his house as her home whenit suited her. Mr. Bingley had not been of agetwo years, when he was tempted by an acci-


dental recommendation to look at NetherfieldHouse. He did look at it, and into it for half-an-hour—was pleased with the situation andthe principal rooms, satisfied with what theowner said in its praise, and took it immedi-ately.

Between him and Darcy there was a verysteady friendship, in spite of great oppositionof character. Bingley was endeared to Darcyby the easiness, openness, and ductility of histemper, though no disposition could offer agreater contrast to his own, and though withhis own he never appeared dissatisfied. Onthe strength of Darcy’s regard, Bingley hadthe firmest reliance, and of his judgement thehighest opinion. In understanding, Darcy wasthe superior. Bingley was by no means defi-cient, but Darcy was clever. He was at thesame time haughty, reserved, and fastidious,and his manners, though well-bred, were notinviting. In that respect his friend had greatlythe advantage. Bingley was sure of beingliked wherever he appeared, Darcy was con-tinually giving offense.

The manner in which they spoke of theMeryton assembly was sufficiently character-istic. Bingley had never met with more pleas-ant people or prettier girls in his life; every-body had been most kind and attentive to him;there had been no formality, no stiffness; hehad soon felt acquainted with all the room;and, as to Miss Bennet, he could not conceivean angel more beautiful. Darcy, on the con-trary, had seen a collection of people in whomthere was little beauty and no fashion, for

Chapter 4 21

none of whom he had felt the smallest inter-est, and from none received either attentionor pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged tobe pretty, but she smiled too much.

Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to beso—but still they admired her and liked her,and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, andone whom they would not object to know moreof. Miss Bennet was therefore established asa sweet girl, and their brother felt authorizedby such commendation to think of her as hechose.

Chapter 5

Within a short walk of Longbourn lived afamily with whom the Bennets were particu-larly intimate. Sir William Lucas had beenformerly in trade in Meryton, where he hadmade a tolerable fortune, and risen to the hon-our of knighthood by an address to the kingduring his mayoralty. The distinction had per-haps been felt too strongly. It had given hima disgust to his business, and to his residencein a small market town; and, in quitting themboth, he had removed with his family to ahouse about a mile from Meryton, denomi-nated from that period Lucas Lodge, where hecould think with pleasure of his own impor-tance, and, unshackled by business, occupyhimself solely in being civil to all the world.For, though elated by his rank, it did not ren-der him supercilious; on the contrary, he wasall attention to everybody. By nature inoffen-sive, friendly, and obliging, his presentation atSt. James’s had made him courteous.

Lady Lucas was a very good kind ofwoman, not too clever to be a valuable neigh-bour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several chil-dren. The eldest of them, a sensible, intelli-

23


gent young woman, about twenty-seven, wasElizabeth’s intimate friend.

That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Ben-nets should meet to talk over a ball was ab-solutely necessary; and the morning after theassembly brought the former to Longbourn tohear and to communicate.

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

“Yes; but he seemed to like his second bet-ter.”

“Oh! you mean Jane, I suppose, because hedanced with her twice. To be sure that didseem as if he admired her—indeed I rather be-lieve he did—I heard something about it—butI hardly know what—something about Mr.Robinson.”

“Perhaps you mean what I overheard be-tween him and Mr. Robinson; did not I men-tion it to you? Mr. Robinson’s asking himhow he liked our Meryton assemblies, andwhether he did not think there were a greatmany pretty women in the room, and which hethought the prettiest? and his answering im-mediately to the last question: ‘Oh! the eldestMiss Bennet, beyond a doubt; there cannot betwo opinions on that point.”’

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

“My overhearings were more to the pur-pose than yours, Eliza,” said Charlotte. “Mr.Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his

Chapter 5 25

friend, is he?—poor Eliza!—to be only just tol-erable.”

“I beg you would not put it into Lizzy’shead to be vexed by his ill-treatment, for heis such a disagreeable man, that it would bequite a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs.Long told me last night that he sat close toher for half-an-hour without once opening hislips.”

“Are you quite sure, ma’am?—is not therea little mistake?” said Jane. “I certainly sawMr. Darcy speaking to her.”

“Aye—because she asked him at last howhe liked Netherfield, and he could not help an-swering her; but she said he seemed quite an-gry at being spoke to.”

“Miss Bingley told me,” said Jane, “thathe never speaks much, unless among his inti-mate acquaintances. With them he is remark-ably agreeable.”

“I do not believe a word of it, my dear. Ifhe had been so very agreeable, he would havetalked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how itwas; everybody says that he is eat up withpride, and I dare say he had heard somehowthat Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, andhad 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 haddanced with Eliza.”

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

“I believe, ma’am, I may safely promise younever to dance with him.”

“His pride,” said Miss Lucas, “does not of-


fend me so much as pride often does, becausethere is an excuse for it. One cannot wonderthat so very fine a young man, with family,fortune, everything in his favour, should thinkhighly of himself. If I may so express it, he hasa right to be proud.”

“That is very true,” replied Elizabeth, “andI could easily forgive his pride, if he had notmortified mine.”

“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued her-self upon the solidity of her reflections, “is avery common failing, I believe. By all that Ihave ever read, I am convinced that it is verycommon indeed; that human nature is par-ticularly prone to it, and that there are veryfew of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality orother, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride aredifferent things, though the words are oftenused synonymously. A person may be proudwithout being vain. Pride relates more to ouropinion of ourselves, vanity to what we wouldhave others think of us.”

“If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried ayoung Lucas, who came with his sisters, “Ishould not care how proud I was. I would keepa pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of winea day.”

“Then you would drink a great deal morethan you ought,” said Mrs. Bennet; “and if Iwere to see you at it, I should take away yourbottle directly.”

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

Chapter 6

The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on thoseof Netherfield. The visit was soon returnedin due form. Miss Bennet’s pleasing mannersgrew on the goodwill of Mrs. Hurst and MissBingley; and though the mother was foundto be intolerable, and the younger sisters notworth speaking to, a wish of being better ac-quainted with them was expressed towardsthe two eldest. By Jane, this attention wasreceived with the greatest pleasure, but Eliz-abeth still saw superciliousness in their treat-ment of everybody, hardly excepting even hersister, and could not like them; though theirkindness to Jane, such as it was, had a valueas arising in all probability from the influenceof their brother’s admiration. It was generallyevident whenever they met, that he did ad-mire her and to her it was equally evident thatJane was yielding to the preference which shehad begun to entertain for him from the first,and was in a way to be very much in love; butshe considered with pleasure that it was notlikely to be discovered by the world in gen-eral, since Jane united, with great strength offeeling, a composure of temper and a uniform

27


cheerfulness of manner which would guardher from the suspicions of the impertinent.She mentioned this to her friend Miss Lucas.

“It may perhaps be pleasant,” repliedCharlotte, “to be able to impose on the pub-lic in such a case; but it is sometimes a dis-advantage to be so very guarded. If a womanconceals her affection with the same skill fromthe object of it, she may lose the opportunity offixing him; and it will then be but poor conso-lation to believe the world equally in the dark.There is so much of gratitude or vanity in al-most every attachment, that it is not safe toleave any to itself. We can all begin freely—aslight preference is natural enough; but thereare very few of us who have heart enough tobe really in love without encouragement. Innine cases out of ten a women had better showmore affection than she feels. Bingley likesyour sister undoubtedly; but he may never domore than like her, if she does not help himon.”

“But she does help him on, as much as hernature will allow. If I can perceive her regardfor him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, notto discover it too.”

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

“But if a woman is partial to a man, anddoes not endeavour to conceal it, he must findit out.”

“Perhaps he must, if he sees enough ofher. But, though Bingley and Jane meet tol-erably often, it is never for many hours to-gether; and, as they always see each other in

Chapter 6 29

large mixed parties, it is impossible that ev-ery moment should be employed in convers-ing together. Jane should therefore make themost of every half-hour in which she can com-mand his attention. When she is secure ofhim, there will be more leisure for falling inlove as much as she chooses.”

“Your plan is a good one,” replied Eliza-beth, “where nothing is in question but the de-sire of being well married, and if I were deter-mined to get a rich husband, or any husband,I dare say I should adopt it. But these are notJane’s feelings; she is not acting by design. Asyet, she cannot even be certain of the degree ofher own regard nor of its reasonableness. Shehas known him only a fortnight. She dancedfour dances with him at Meryton; she saw himone morning at his own house, and has sincedined with him in company four times. This isnot quite enough to make her understand hischaracter.”

“Not as you represent it. Had she merelydined with him, she might only have discov-ered whether he had a good appetite; but youmust remember that four evenings have alsobeen spent together—and four evenings maydo a great deal.”

“Yes; these four evenings have enabledthem to ascertain that they both like Vingt-un better than Commerce; but with respectto any other leading characteristic, I do notimagine that much has been unfolded.”

“Well,” said Charlotte, “I wish Jane successwith all my heart; and if she were marriedto him to-morrow, I should think she had as


good a chance of happiness as if she were tobe studying his character for a twelvemonth.Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter ofchance. If the dispositions of the parties areever so well known to each other or ever sosimilar beforehand, it does not advance theirfelicity in the least. They always continueto grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to havetheir share of vexation; and it is better toknow as little as possible of the defects of theperson with whom you are to pass your life.”

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

Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley’s atten-tions to her sister, Elizabeth was far from sus-pecting that she was herself becoming an ob-ject of some interest in the eyes of his friend.Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her tobe pretty; he had looked at her without admi-ration at the ball; and when they next met, helooked at her only to criticise. But no soonerhad he made it clear to himself and his friendsthat she hardly had a good feature in her face,than he began to find it was rendered uncom-monly intelligent by the beautiful expressionof her dark eyes. To this discovery succeededsome others equally mortifying. Though hehad detected with a critical eye more thanone failure of perfect symmetry in her form,he was forced to acknowledge her figure tobe light and pleasing; and in spite of his as-serting that her manners were not those ofthe fashionable world, he was caught by theireasy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly un-

Chapter 6 31

aware; to her he was only the man who madehimself agreeable nowhere, and who had notthought her handsome enough to dance with.

He began to wish to know more of her, andas a step towards conversing with her himself,attended to her conversation with others. Hisdoing so drew her notice. It was at Sir WilliamLucas’s, where a large party were assembled.

“What does Mr. Darcy mean,” said she toCharlotte, “by listening to my conversationwith Colonel Forster?”

“That is a question which Mr. Darcy onlycan answer.”

“But if he does it any more I shall certainlylet him know that I see what he is about. Hehas a very satirical eye, and if I do not beginby being impertinent myself, I shall soon growafraid of him.”

On his approaching them soon afterwards,though without seeming to have any intentionof speaking, Miss Lucas defied her friend tomention such a subject to him; which immedi-ately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she turnedto him and said:

“Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I ex-pressed myself uncommonly well just now,when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give usa ball at Meryton?”

“With great energy; but it is always a sub-ject which makes a lady energetic.”

“You are severe on us.”“It will be her turn soon to be teased,” said

Miss Lucas. “I am going to open the instru-ment, Eliza, and you know what follows.”

“You are a very strange creature by way


of a friend!—always wanting me to play andsing before anybody and everybody! If myvanity had taken a musical turn, you wouldhave been invaluable; but as it is, I would re-ally rather not sit down before those who mustbe in the habit of hearing the very best per-formers.” On Miss Lucas’s persevering, how-ever, she added, “Very well, if it must be so,it must.” And gravely glancing at Mr. Darcy,“There is a fine old saying, which everybodyhere is of course familiar with: ‘Keep yourbreath to cool your porridge’; and I shall keepmine to swell my song.”

Her performance was pleasing, though byno means capital. After a song or two, andbefore she could reply to the entreaties of sev-eral that she would sing again, she was ea-gerly succeeded at the instrument by her sis-ter Mary, who having, in consequence of beingthe only plain one in the family, worked hardfor knowledge and accomplishments, was al-ways impatient for display.

Mary had neither genius nor taste; andthough vanity had given her application, ithad given her likewise a pedantic air andconceited manner, which would have injureda higher degree of excellence than she hadreached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, hadbeen listened to with much more pleasure,though not playing half so well; and Mary, atthe end of a long concerto, was glad to pur-chase praise and gratitude by Scotch and Irishairs, at the request of her younger sisters,who, with some of the Lucases, and two orthree officers, joined eagerly in dancing at one

Chapter 6 33

end of the room.Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indig-

nation at such a mode of passing the evening,to the exclusion of all conversation, and wastoo much engrossed by his thoughts to per-ceive that Sir William Lucas was his neigh-bour, till Sir William thus began:

“What a charming amusement for youngpeople this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothinglike dancing after all. I consider it as one ofthe first refinements of polished society.”

“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantagealso of being in vogue amongst the less pol-ished societies of the world. Every savage candance.”

Sir William only smiled. “Your friendperforms delightfully,” he continued after apause, on seeing Bingley join the group; “and Idoubt not that you are an adept in the scienceyourself, Mr. Darcy.”

“You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe,sir.”

“Yes, indeed, and received no inconsider-able pleasure from the sight. Do you oftendance at St. James’s?”

“Never, sir.”“Do you not think it would be a proper com-

pliment to the place?”“It is a compliment which I never pay to

any place if I can avoid it.”“You have a house in town, I conclude?”Mr. Darcy bowed.“I had once had some thought of fixing in

town myself—for I am fond of superior society;but I did not feel quite certain that the air of


London would agree with Lady Lucas.”He paused in hopes of an answer; but his

companion was not disposed to make any;and Elizabeth at that instant moving towardsthem, he was struck with the action of doing avery gallant thing, and called out to her:

“My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not danc-ing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to presentthis young lady to you as a very desirablepartner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am surewhen so much beauty is before you.” And, tak-ing her hand, he would have given it to Mr.Darcy who, though extremely surprised, wasnot unwilling to receive it, when she instantlydrew back, and said with some discomposureto Sir William:

“Indeed, sir, I have not the least intentionof dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that Imoved this way in order to beg for a partner.”

Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requestedto be allowed the honour of her hand, but invain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did SirWilliam at all shake her purpose by his at-tempt at persuasion.

“You excel so much in the dance, MissEliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happinessof seeing you; and though this gentleman dis-likes the amusement in general, he can haveno objection, I am sure, to oblige us for onehalf-hour.”

“Mr. Darcy is all politeness,” said Eliza-beth, smiling.

“He is, indeed; but, considering the induce-ment, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonderat his complaisance—for who would object to

Chapter 6 35

such a partner?”Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away.

Her resistance had not injured her with thegentleman, and he was thinking of her withsome complacency, when thus accosted byMiss Bingley:

“I can guess the subject of your reverie.”“I should imagine not.”“You are considering how insupportable

it would be to pass many evenings in thismanner—in such society; and indeed I amquite of you opinion. I was never more an-noyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise—thenothingness, and yet the self-importance of allthose people! What would I give to hear yourstrictures on them!”

“You conjecture is totally wrong, I assureyou. My mind was more agreeably engaged. Ihave been meditating on the very great plea-sure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of apretty woman can bestow.”

Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyeson his face, and desired he would tell her whatlady had the credit of inspiring such reflec-tions. Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepid-ity:

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss

Bingley. “I am all astonishment. How longhas she been such a favourite?—and pray,when am I to wish you joy?”

“That is exactly the question which I ex-pected you to ask. A lady’s imagination is veryrapid; it jumps from admiration to love, fromlove to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you


would be wishing me joy.”“Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall

consider the matter is absolutely settled. Youwill be having a charming mother-in-law, in-deed; and, of course, she will always be atPemberley with you.”

He listened to her with perfect indifferencewhile she chose to entertain herself in thismanner; and as his composure convinced herthat all was safe, her wit flowed long.

Chapter 7

Mr. Bennet’s property consisted almost en-tirely in an estate of two thousand a year,which, unfortunately for his daughters, wasentailed, in default of heirs male, on a distantrelation; and their mother’s fortune, thoughample for her situation in life, could but illsupply the deficiency of his. Her father hadbeen an attorney in Meryton, and had left herfour thousand pounds.

She had a sister married to a Mr. Phillips,who had been a clerk to their father and suc-ceeded him in the business, and a brother set-tled in London in a respectable line of trade.

The village of Longbourn was only one milefrom Meryton; a most convenient distance forthe young ladies, who were usually temptedthither three or four times a week, to paytheir duty to their aunt and to a milliner’sshop just over the way. The two youngest ofthe family, Catherine and Lydia, were par-ticularly frequent in these attentions; theirminds were more vacant than their sisters’,and when nothing better offered, a walk toMeryton was necessary to amuse their morn-ing hours and furnish conversation for the

37


evening; and however bare of news the coun-try in general might be, they always contrivedto learn some from their aunt. At present, in-deed, they were well supplied both with newsand happiness by the recent arrival of a mili-tia regiment in the neighbourhood; it was toremain the whole winter, and Meryton wasthe headquarters.

Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now pro-ductive of the most interesting intelligence.Every day added something to their knowl-edge of the officers’ names and connections.Their lodgings were not long a secret, and atlength they began to know the officers them-selves. Mr. Phillips visited them all, and thisopened to his nieces a store of felicity un-known before. They could talk of nothingbut officers; and Mr. Bingley’s large fortune,the mention of which gave animation to theirmother, was worthless in their eyes when op-posed to the regimentals of an ensign.

After listening one morning to their effu-sions on this subject, Mr. Bennet coolly ob-served:

“From all that I can collect by your mannerof talking, you must be two of the silliest girlsin the country. I have suspected it some time,but I am now convinced.”

Catherine was disconcerted, and made noanswer; but Lydia, with perfect indifference,continued to express her admiration of Cap-tain Carter, and her hope of seeing him in thecourse of the day, as he was going the nextmorning to London.

“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs. Ben-

Chapter 7 39

net, “that you should be so ready to think yourown children silly. If I wished to think slight-ingly of anybody’s children, it should not be ofmy own, however.”

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

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

“This is the only point, I flatter myself, onwhich we do not agree. I had hoped that oursentiments coincided in every particular, but Imust so far differ from you as to think our twoyoungest daughters uncommonly foolish.”

“My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not ex-pect such girls to have the sense of their fa-ther and mother. When they get to our age, Idare say they will not think about officers anymore than we do. I remember the time whenI liked a red coat myself very well—and, in-deed, so I do still at my heart; and if a smartyoung colonel, with five or six thousand a year,should want one of my girls I shall not say nayto him; and I thought Colonel Forster lookedvery becoming the other night at Sir William’sin his regimentals.”

“Mamma,” cried Lydia, “my aunt says thatColonel Forster and Captain Carter do not goso often to Miss Watson’s as they did whenthey first came; she sees them now very oftenstanding in Clarke’s library.”

Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by theentrance of the footman with a note for MissBennet; it came from Netherfield, and the ser-vant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet’s eyessparkled 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, makehaste and tell us; make haste, my love.”

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

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—“If you are not so compassionate

as to dine to-day with Louisa andme, we shall be in danger of hat-ing each other for the rest of ourlives, for a whole day’s tete-a-tetebetween two women can never endwithout a quarrel. Come as soonas you can on receipt of this. Mybrother and the gentlemen are todine with the officers.—Yours ever,

“CAROLINE BINGLEY”

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

“Dining out,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that isvery unlucky.”

“Can I have the carriage?” said Jane.“No, my dear, you had better go on horse-

back, because it seems likely to rain; and thenyou must stay all night.”

“That would be a good scheme,” said Eliz-abeth, “if you were sure that they would notoffer to send her home.”

“Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bin-gley’s chaise to go to Meryton, and the Hurstshave no horses to theirs.”

“I had much rather go in the coach.”

Chapter 7 41

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

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

“But if you have got them to-day,” saidElizabeth, “my mother’s purpose will be an-swered.”

She did at last extort from her father an ac-knowledgment that the horses were engaged.Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback,and her mother attended her to the door withmany cheerful prognostics of a bad day. Herhopes were answered; Jane had not been gonelong before it rained hard. Her sisters wereuneasy for her, but her mother was delighted.The rain continued the whole evening withoutintermission; Jane certainly could not someback.

“This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!”said Mrs. Bennet more than once, as if thecredit of making it rain were all her own.Till the next morning, however, she was notaware of all the felicity of her contrivance.Breakfast was scarcely over when a servantfrom Netherfield brought the following notefor Elizabeth:

“MY DEAREST LIZZY,—“I find myself very unwell this

morning, which, I suppose, is to beimputed to my getting wet throughyesterday. My kind friends will nothear of my returning till I am bet-ter. They insist also on my see-


ing Mr. Jones—therefore do not bealarmed if you should hear of hishaving been to me—and, except-ing a sore throat and headache,there is not much the matter withme.—Yours, etc.”

“Well, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, when Eliza-beth had read the note aloud, “if your daugh-ter should have a dangerous fit of illness—ifshe should die, it would be a comfort to knowthat it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, andunder your orders.”

“Oh! I am not afraid of her dying. Peopledo not die of little trifling colds. She will betaken good care of. As long as she stays there,it is all very well. I would go and see her if Icould have the carriage.”

Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was de-termined to go to her, though the carriage wasnot to be had; and as she was no horsewoman,walking was her only alternative. She de-clared 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 getthere.”

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

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

“No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid thewalk. The distance is nothing when one hasa motive; only three miles. I shall be back bydinner.”

Chapter 7 43

“I admire the activity of your benevolence,”observed Mary, “but every impulse of feelingshould be guided by reason; and, in my opin-ion, exertion should always be in proportion towhat is required.”

“We will go as far as Meryton with you,”said Catherine and Lydia. Elizabeth acceptedtheir company, and the three young ladies setoff together.

“If we make haste,” said Lydia, as theywalked along, “perhaps we may see somethingof Captain Carter before he goes.”

In Meryton they parted; the two youngestrepaired to the lodgings of one of the offi-cers’ wives, and Elizabeth continued her walkalone, crossing field after field at a quick pace,jumping over stiles and springing over pud-dles with impatient activity, and finding her-self at last within view of the house, withweary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glow-ing with the warmth of exercise.

She was shown into the breakfast-parlour,where all but Jane were assembled, andwhere her appearance created a great dealof surprise. That she should have walkedthree miles so early in the day, in such dirtyweather, and by herself, was almost incredi-ble to Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and Eliz-abeth was convinced that they held her in con-tempt for it. She was received, however, verypolitely by them; and in their brother’s man-ners there was something better than polite-ness; there was good humour and kindness.Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr. Hurst noth-ing at all. The former was divided between ad-


miration of the brilliancy which exercise hadgiven to her complexion, and doubt as to theoccasion’s justifying her coming so far alone.The latter was thinking only of his breakfast.

Her inquiries after her sister were not veryfavourably answered. Miss Bennet had sleptill, and though up, was very feverish, andnot well enough to leave her room. Eliza-beth was glad to be taken to her immediately;and Jane, who had only been withheld by thefear of giving alarm or inconvenience from ex-pressing in her note how much she longed forsuch a visit, was delighted at her entrance.She was not equal, however, to much con-versation, and when Miss Bingley left themtogether, could attempt little besides expres-sions of gratitude for the extraordinary kind-ness she was treated with. Elizabeth silentlyattended her.

When breakfast was over they were joinedby the sisters; and Elizabeth began to likethem herself, when she saw how much af-fection and solicitude they showed for Jane.The apothecary came, and having examinedhis patient, said, as might be supposed, thatshe had caught a violent cold, and that theymust endeavour to get the better of it; advisedher to return to bed, and promised her somedraughts. The advice was followed readily,for the feverish symptoms increased, and herhead ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit herroom for a moment; nor were the other ladiesoften absent; the gentlemen being out, theyhad, in fact, nothing to do elsewhere.

When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt

Chapter 7 45

that she must go, and very unwillingly saidso. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, andshe only wanted a little pressing to accept it,when Jane testified such concern in partingwith her, that Miss Bingley was obliged to con-vert the offer of the chaise to an invitation toremain at Netherfield for the present. Eliz-abeth most thankfully consented, and a ser-vant was dispatched to Longbourn to acquaintthe family with her stay and bring back a sup-ply of clothes.

Chapter 8

At five o’clock the two ladies retired to dress,and at half-past six Elizabeth was summonedto dinner. To the civil inquiries which thenpoured in, and amongst which she had thepleasure of distinguishing the much superiorsolicitude of Mr. Bingley’s, she could not makea very favourable answer. Jane was by nomeans better. The sisters, on hearing this,repeated three or four times how much theywere grieved, how shocking it was to have abad cold, and how excessively they dislikedbeing ill themselves; and then thought nomore of the matter: and their indifferencetowards Jane when not immediately beforethem restored Elizabeth to the enjoyment ofall her former dislike.

Their brother, indeed, was the only one ofthe party whom she could regard with anycomplacency. His anxiety for Jane was evi-dent, and his attentions to herself most pleas-ing, and they prevented her feeling herself somuch an intruder as she believed she was con-sidered by the others. She had very little no-tice from any but him. Miss Bingley was en-grossed by Mr. Darcy, her sister scarcely less

47


so; and as for Mr. Hurst, by whom Elizabethsat, he was an indolent man, who lived onlyto eat, drink, and play at cards; who, when hefound her to prefer a plain dish to a ragout,had nothing to say to her.

When dinner was over, she returned di-rectly to Jane, and Miss Bingley began abus-ing her as soon as she was out of the room.Her manners were pronounced to be very badindeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence;she had no conversation, no style, no beauty.Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added:

“She has nothing, in short, to recommendher, but being an excellent walker. I shallnever forget her appearance this morning.She really looked almost wild.”

“She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardlykeep my countenance. Very nonsensical tocome at all! Why must she be scamperingabout the country, because her sister had acold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!”

“Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw herpetticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am abso-lutely certain; and the gown which had beenlet down to hide it not doing its office.”

“Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,”said Bingley; “but this was all lost upon me.I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked re-markably well when she came into the roomthis morning. Her dirty petticoat quite es-caped my notice.”

“You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure,”said Miss Bingley; “and I am inclined to thinkthat you would not wish to see your sistermake such an exhibition.”

Chapter 8 49

“Certainly not.”“To walk three miles, or four miles, or five

miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles indirt, and alone, quite alone! What could shemean by it? It seems to me to show an abom-inable sort of conceited independence, a mostcountry-town indifference to decorum.”

“It shows an affection for her sister that isvery pleasing,” said Bingley.

“I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,” observed MissBingley in a half whisper, “that this adventurehas rather affected your admiration of her fineeyes.”

“Not at all,” he replied; “they were bright-ened by the exercise.” A short pause followedthis speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again:

“I have a excessive regard for Miss JaneBennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and Iwish with all my heart she were well settled.But with such a father and mother, and suchlow connections, I am afraid there is no chanceof it.”

“I think I have heard you say that their un-cle is an attorney on Meryton.”

“Yes; and they have another, who livessomewhere near Cheapside.”

“That is capital,” added her sister, and theyboth laughed heartily.

“If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheap-side,” cried Bingley, “it would not make themone jot less agreeable.”

“But it must very materially lessen theirchance of marrying men of any considerationin the world,” replied Darcy.

To this speech Bingley made no answer;


but his sisters gave it their hearty assent, andindulged their mirth for some time at the ex-pense of their dear friend’s vulgar relations.

With a renewal of tenderness, however,they returned to her room on leaving thedining-parlour, and sat with her till sum-moned to coffee. She was still very poorly, andElizabeth would not quit her at all, till latein the evening, when she had the comfort ofseeing her sleep, and when it seemed to herrather right than pleasant that she should godownstairs herself. On entering the drawing-room she found the whole party at loo, andwas immediately invited to join them; but sus-pecting them to be playing high she declinedit, and making her sister the excuse, said shewould amuse herself for the short time shecould stay below, with a book. Mr. Hurstlooked at her with astonishment.

“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said he;“that is rather singular.”

“Miss Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley,“despises cards. She is a great reader, and hasno pleasure in anything else.”

“I deserve neither such praise nor suchcensure,” cried Elizabeth; “I am not a greatreader, and I have pleasure in many things.”

“In nursing your sister I am sure you havepleasure,” said Bingley; “and I hope it will besoon increased by seeing her quite well.”

Elizabeth thanked him from her heart,and then walked towards the table where afew books were lying. He immediately offeredto fetch her others—all that his library af-forded.

Chapter 8 51

“And I wish my collection were larger foryour benefit and my own credit; but I am anidle fellow, and though I have not many, I havemore than I ever looked into.”

Elizabeth assured him that she could suitherself perfectly with those in the room.

“I am astonished,” said Miss Bingley, “thatmy father should have left so small a collec-tion of books. What a delightful library youhave at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!”

“It ought to be good,” he replied, “it hasbeen the work of many generations.”

“And then you have added so much to ityourself, you are always buying books.”

“I cannot comprehend the neglect of a fam-ily library in such days as these.”

“Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothingthat can add to the beauties of that nobleplace. Charles, when you build your house,I wish it may be half as delightful as Pember-ley.”

“I wish it may.”“But I would really advise you to make

your purchase in that neighbourhood, andtake Pemberley for a kind of model. Thereis not a finer county in England than Der-byshire.”

“With all my heart; I will buy Pemberleyitself if Darcy will sell it.”

“I am talking of possibilities, Charles.”“Upon my word, Caroline, I should think

it more possible to get Pemberley by purchasethan by imitation.”

Elizabeth was so much caught with whatpassed, as to leave her very little attention for


her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, shedrew near the card-table, and stationed her-self between Mr. Bingley and his eldest sister,to observe the game.”

“Is Miss Darcy much grown since thespring?” said Miss Bingley; “will she be as tallas I am?”

“I think she will. She is now about MissElizabeth Bennet’s height, or rather taller.”

“How I long to see her again! I nevermet with anybody who delighted me so much.Such a countenance, such manners! And soextremely accomplished for her age! Her per-formance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”

“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “howyoung ladies can have patience to be so veryaccomplished as they all are.”

“All young ladies accomplished! My dearCharles, what do you mean?”

“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint ta-bles, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcelyknow anyone who cannot do all this, and I amsure I never heard a young lady spoken of forthe first time, without being informed that shewas very accomplished.”

“Your list of the common extent of accom-plishments,” said Darcy, “has too much truth.The word is applied to many a woman who de-serves it no otherwise than by netting a purseor covering a screen. But I am very far fromagreeing with you in your estimation of ladiesin general. I cannot boast of knowing morethan half-a-dozen, in the whole range of myacquaintance, that are really accomplished.”

“Nor I, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley.

Chapter 8 53

“Then,” observed Elizabeth, “you mustcomprehend a great deal in your idea of anaccomplished woman.”

“Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.”“Oh! certainly,” cried his faithful assistant,

“no one can be really esteemed accomplishedwho does not greatly surpass what is usuallymet with. A woman must have a thoroughknowledge of music, singing, drawing, danc-ing, and the modern languages, to deserve theword; and besides all this, she must possessa certain something in her air and mannerof walking, the tone of her voice, her addressand expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved.”

“All this she must possess,” added Darcy,“and to all this she must yet add somethingmore substantial, in the improvement of hermind by extensive reading.”

“I am no longer surprised at your knowingonly six accomplished women. I rather won-der now at your knowing any.”

“Are you so severe upon your own sex as todoubt the possibility of all this?

“I never saw such a woman. I never sawsuch capacity, and taste, and application, andelegance, as you describe united.”

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both criedout against the injustice of her implied doubt,and were both protesting that they knewmany women who answered this description,when Mr. Hurst called them to order, withbitter complaints of their inattention to whatwas going forward. As all conversation wasthereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards


left the room.“Elizabeth Bennet,” said Miss Bingley,

when the door was closed on her, “is one ofthose young ladies who seek to recommendthemselves to the other sex by undervaluingtheir own; and with many men, I dare say, itsucceeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry de-vice, a very mean art.”

“Undoubtedly,” replied Darcy, to whom thisremark was chiefly addressed, “there is ameanness in all the arts which ladies some-times condescend to employ for captivation.Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despi-cable.”

Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfiedwith this reply as to continue the subject.

Elizabeth joined them again only to saythat her sister was worse, and that she couldnot leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones beingsent for immediately; while his sisters, con-vinced that no country advice could be of anyservice, recommended an express to town forone of the most eminent physicians. This shewould not hear of; but she was not so unwill-ing to comply with their brother’s proposal;and it was settled that Mr. Jones should besent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennetwere not decidedly better. Bingley was quiteuncomfortable; his sisters declared that theywere miserable. They solaced their wretched-ness, however, by duets after supper, while hecould find no better relief to his feelings thanby giving his housekeeper directions that ev-ery attention might be paid to the sick ladyand her sister.

Chapter 9

Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in hersister’s room, and in the morning had thepleasure of being able to send a tolerable an-swer to the inquiries which she very early re-ceived from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid, andsome time afterwards from the two elegantladies who waited on his sisters. In spite ofthis amendment, however, she requested tohave a note sent to Longbourn, desiring hermother to visit Jane, and form her own judge-ment of her situation. The note was immedi-ately dispatched, and its contents as quicklycomplied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied byher two youngest girls, reached Netherfieldsoon after the family breakfast.

Had she found Jane in any apparent dan-ger, Mrs. Bennet would have been very mis-erable; but being satisfied on seeing her thather illness was not alarming, she had no wishof her recovering immediately, as her restora-tion to health would probably remove her fromNetherfield. She would not listen, therefore,to her daughter’s proposal of being carriedhome; neither did the apothecary, who arrivedabout the same time, think it at all advis-

55


able. After sitting a little while with Jane, onMiss Bingley’s appearance and invitation, themother and three daughters all attended herinto the breakfast parlour. Bingley met themwith hopes that Mrs. Bennet had not foundMiss Bennet worse than she expected.

“Indeed I have, sir,” was her answer. “Sheis a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr. Jonessays we must not think of moving her. Wemust trespass a little longer on your kind-ness.”

“Removed!” cried Bingley. “It must not bethought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hearof her removal.”

“You may depend upon it, Madam,” saidMiss Bingley, with cold civility, “that MissBennet will receive every possible attentionwhile she remains with us.”

Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowl-edgements.

“I am sure,” she added, “if it was not forsuch good friends I do not know what wouldbecome of her, for she is very ill indeed, andsuffers a vast deal, though with the greatestpatience in the world, which is always the waywith her, for she has, without exception, thesweetest temper I have ever met with. I oftentell my other girls they are nothing to her. Youhave a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and acharming prospect over the gravel walk. I donot know a place in the country that is equalto Netherfield. You will not think of quittingit in a hurry, I hope, though you have but ashort lease.”

“Whatever I do is done in a hurry,” replied

Chapter 9 57

he; “and therefore if I should resolve to quitNetherfield, I should probably be off in fiveminutes. At present, however, I consider my-self as quite fixed here.”

“That is exactly what I should have sup-posed of you,” said Elizabeth.

“You begin to comprehend me, do you?”cried he, turning towards her.

“Oh! yes—I understand you perfectly.”“I wish I might take this for a compliment;

but to be so easily seen through I am afraid ispitiful.”

“That is as it happens. It does not followthat a deep, intricate character is more or lessestimable than such a one as yours.”

“Lizzy,” cried her mother, “rememberwhere you are, and do not run on in the wildmanner that you are suffered to do at home.”

“I did not know before,” continued Bing-ley immediately, “that your were a studier ofcharacter. It must be an amusing study.”

“Yes, but intricate characters are the mostamusing. They have at least that advantage.”

“The country,” said Darcy, “can in generalsupply but a few subjects for such a study. Ina country neighbourhood you move in a veryconfined and unvarying society.”

“But people themselves alter so much, thatthere is something new to be observed in themfor ever.”

“Yes, indeed,” cried Mrs. Bennet, offendedby his manner of mentioning a country neigh-bourhood. “I assure you there is quite as muchof that going on in the country as in town.”

Everybody was surprised, and Darcy, after


looking at her for a moment, turned silentlyaway. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she hadgained a complete victory over him, continuedher triumph.

“I cannot see that London has any greatadvantage over the country, for my part, ex-cept the shops and public places. The countryis a vast deal pleasanter, is it not, Mr. Bing-ley?”

“When I am in the country,” he replied, “Inever wish to leave it; and when I am in townit is pretty much the same. They have eachtheir advantages, and I can be equally happyin either.”

“Aye—that is because you have the rightdisposition. But that gentleman,” looking atDarcy, “seemed to think the country was noth-ing at all.”

“Indeed, Mamma, you are mistaken,” saidElizabeth, blushing for her mother. “You quitemistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that therewas not such a variety of people to be met within the country as in the town, which you mustacknowledge to be true.”

“Certainly, my dear, nobody said therewere; but as to not meeting with many peoplein this neighbourhood, I believe there are fewneighbourhoods larger. I know we dine withfour-and-twenty families.”

Nothing but concern for Elizabeth couldenable Bingley to keep his countenance. Hissister was less delicate, and directed her eyestowards Mr. Darcy with a very expressivesmile. Elizabeth, for the sake of saying some-thing that might turn her mother’s thoughts,

Chapter 9 59

now asked her if Charlotte Lucas had been atLongbourn since her coming away.

“Yes, she called yesterday with her father.What an agreeable man Sir William is, Mr.Bingley, is not he? So much the man of fash-ion! So genteel and easy! He had alwayssomething to say to everybody. That is myidea of good breeding; and those persons whofancy themselves very important, and neveropen their mouths, quite mistake the matter.”

“Did Charlotte dine with you?”“No, she would go home. I fancy she was

wanted about the mince-pies. For my part,Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that cando their own work; my daughters are broughtup very differently. But everybody is to judgefor themselves, and the Lucases are a verygood sort of girls, I assure you. It is a pity theyare not handsome! Not that I think Charlotteso very plain—but then she is our particularfriend.”

“She seems a very pleasant young woman.”“Oh! dear, yes; but you must own she is

very plain. Lady Lucas herself has often saidso, and envied me Jane’s beauty. I do notlike to boast of my own child, but to be sure,Jane—one does not often see anybody betterlooking. It is what everybody says. I do nottrust my own partiality. When she was onlyfifteen, there was a man at my brother Gar-diner’s in town so much in love with her thatmy sister-in-law was sure he would make heran offer before we came away. But, however,he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young.However, he wrote some verses on her, and


very pretty they were.”“And so ended his affection,” said Elizabeth

impatiently. “There has been many a one, Ifancy, overcome in the same way. I wonderwho first discovered the efficacy of poetry indriving away love!”

“I have been used to consider poetry as thefood of love,” said Darcy.

“Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Ev-erything nourishes what is strong already.But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclina-tion, I am convinced that one good sonnet willstarve it entirely away.”

Darcy only smiled; and the general pausewhich ensued made Elizabeth tremble lest hermother should be exposing herself again. Shelonged to speak, but could think of nothing tosay; and after a short silence Mrs. Bennet be-gan repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley forhis kindness to Jane, with an apology for trou-bling him also with Lizzy. Mr. Bingley wasunaffectedly civil in his answer, and forcedhis younger sister to be civil also, and saywhat the occasion required. She performedher part indeed without much graciousness,but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and soon af-terwards ordered her carriage. Upon this sig-nal, the youngest of her daughters put her-self forward. The two girls had been whisper-ing to each other during the whole visit, andthe result of it was, that the youngest shouldtax Mr. Bingley with having promised on hisfirst coming into the country to give a ball atNetherfield.

Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of

Chapter 9 61

fifteen, with a fine complexion and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with hermother, whose affection had brought her intopublic at an early age. She had high animalspirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence,which the attention of the officers, to whomher uncle’s good dinners, and her own easymanners recommended her, had increasedinto assurance. She was very equal, there-fore, to address Mr. Bingley on the subject ofthe ball, and abruptly reminded him of hispromise; adding, that it would be the mostshameful thing in the world if he did not keepit. His answer to this sudden attack was de-lightful to their mother’s ear:

“I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keepmy engagement; and when your sister is re-covered, you shall, if you please, name thevery day of the ball. But you would not wishto be dancing when she is ill.”

Lydia declared herself satisfied. “Oh!yes—it would be much better to wait till Janewas well, and by that time most likely Cap-tain Carter would be at Meryton again. Andwhen you have given your ball,” she added, “Ishall insist on their giving one also. I shall tellColonel Forster it will be quite a shame if hedoes not.”

Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then de-parted, and Elizabeth returned instantly toJane, leaving her own and her relations’ be-haviour to the remarks of the two ladies andMr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however, couldnot be prevailed on to join in their censure ofher, in spite of all Miss Bingley’s witticisms on


fine eyes.

Chapter 10

The day passed much as the day before haddone. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley had spentsome hours of the morning with the invalid,who continued, though slowly, to mend; andin the evening Elizabeth joined their party inthe drawing-room. The loo-table, however, didnot appear. Mr. Darcy was writing, and MissBingley, seated near him, was watching theprogress of his letter and repeatedly callingoff his attention by messages to his sister. Mr.Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, andMrs. Hurst was observing their game.

Elizabeth took up some needlework, andwas sufficiently amused in attending to whatpassed between Darcy and his companion.The perpetual commendations of the lady, ei-ther on his handwriting, or on the evenness ofhis lines, or on the length of his letter, withthe perfect unconcern with which her praiseswere received, formed a curious dialogue, andwas exactly in union with her opinion of each.

“How delighted Miss Darcy will be to re-ceive such a letter!”

He made no answer.“You write uncommonly fast.”

63


“You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.”“How many letters you must have occa-

sion to write in the course of a year! Lettersof business, too! How odious I should thinkthem!”

“It is fortunate, then, that they fall to mylot instead of yours.”

“Pray tell your sister that I long to see her.”“I have already told her so once, by your

desire.”“I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let

me mend it for you. I mend pens remarkablywell.”

“Thank you—but I always mend my own.”“How can you contrive to write so even?”He was silent.“Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of

her improvement on the harp; and pray lether know that I am quite in raptures with herbeautiful little design for a table, and I thinkit infinitely superior to Miss Grantley’s.”

“Will you give me leave to defer your rap-tures till I write again? At present I have notroom to do them justice.”

“Oh! it is of no consequence. I shall seeher in January. But do you always write suchcharming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?”

“They are generally long; but whether al-ways charming it is not for me to determine.”

“It is a rule with me, that a person who canwrite a long letter with ease, cannot write ill.”

“That will not do for a compliment toDarcy, Caroline,” cried her brother, “becausehe does not write with ease. He studies too

Chapter 10 65

much for words of four syllables. Do not you,Darcy?”

“My style of writing is very different fromyours.”

“Oh!” cried Miss Bingley, “Charles writesin the most careless way imaginable. Heleaves out half his words, and blots the rest.”

“My ideas flow so rapidly that I have nottime to express them—by which means myletters sometimes convey no ideas at all to mycorrespondents.”

“Your humility, Mr. Bingley,” said Eliza-beth, “must disarm reproof.”

“Nothing is more deceitful,” said Darcy,“than the appearance of humility. It is oftenonly carelessness of opinion, and sometimesan indirect boast.”

“And which of the two do you call my littlerecent piece of modesty?”

“The indirect boast; for you are reallyproud of your defects in writing, because youconsider them as proceeding from a rapidity ofthought and carelessness of execution, which,if not estimable, you think at least highly in-teresting. The power of doing anything withquickness is always prized much by the pos-sessor, and often without any attention to theimperfection of the performance. When youtold Mrs. Bennet this morning that if youever resolved upon quitting Netherfield youshould be gone in five minutes, you meantit to be a sort of panegyric, of compliment toyourself—and yet what is there so very laud-able in a precipitance which must leave verynecessary business undone, and can be of no


real advantage to yourself or anyone else?”“Nay,” cried Bingley, “this is too much, to

remember at night all the foolish things thatwere said in the morning. And yet, upon myhonour, I believe what I said of myself to betrue, and I believe it at this moment. At least,therefore, I did not assume the character ofneedless precipitance merely to show off be-fore the ladies.”

“I dare say you believed it; but I am by nomeans convinced that you would be gone withsuch celerity. Your conduct would be quiteas dependent on chance as that of any manI know; and if, as you were mounting yourhorse, a friend were to say, ‘Bingley, you hadbetter stay till next week,’ you would proba-bly do it, you would probably not go—and atanother word, might stay a month.”

“You have only proved by this,” cried Eliz-abeth, “that Mr. Bingley did not do justice tohis own disposition. You have shown him offnow much more than he did himself.”

“I am exceedingly gratified,” said Bingley,“by your converting what my friend says intoa compliment on the sweetness of my temper.But I am afraid you are giving it a turn whichthat gentleman did by no means intend; forhe would certainly think better of me, if un-der such a circumstance I were to give a flatdenial, and ride off as fast as I could.”

“Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rash-ness of your original intentions as atoned forby your obstinacy in adhering to it?”

“Upon my word, I cannot exactly explainthe matter; Darcy must speak for himself.”

Chapter 10 67

“You expect me to account for opinionswhich you choose to call mine, but which Ihave never acknowledged. Allowing the case,however, to stand according to your represen-tation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, thatthe friend who is supposed to desire his re-turn to the house, and the delay of his plan,has merely desired it, asked it without offer-ing one argument in favour of its propriety.”

“To yield readily—easily—to the persua-sion of a friend is no merit with you.”

“To yield without conviction is no compli-ment to the understanding of either.”

“You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allownothing for the influence of friendship and af-fection. A regard for the requester would oftenmake one readily yield to a request, withoutwaiting for arguments to reason one into it. Iam not particularly speaking of such a case asyou have supposed about Mr. Bingley. We mayas well wait, perhaps, till the circumstance oc-curs before we discuss the discretion of his be-haviour thereupon. But in general and ordi-nary cases between friend and friend, whereone of them is desired by the other to changea resolution of no very great moment, shouldyou think ill of that person for complying withthe desire, without waiting to be argued intoit?”

“Will it not be advisable, before we proceedon this subject, to arrange with rather moreprecision the degree of importance which is toappertain to this request, as well as the de-gree of intimacy subsisting between the par-ties?”


“By all means,” cried Bingley; “let us hearall the particulars, not forgetting their com-parative height and size; for that will havemore weight in the argument, Miss Bennet,than you may be aware of. I assure you, that ifDarcy were not such a great tall fellow, in com-parison with myself, I should not pay him halfso much deference. I declare I do not knowa more awful object than Darcy, on particularoccasions, and in particular places; at his ownhouse especially, and of a Sunday evening,when he has nothing to do.”

Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thoughtshe could perceive that he was rather of-fended, and therefore checked her laugh. MissBingley warmly resented the indignity he hadreceived, in an expostulation with her brotherfor talking such nonsense.

“I see your design, Bingley,” said his friend.“You dislike an argument, and want to silencethis.”

“Perhaps I do. Arguments are too muchlike disputes. If you and Miss Bennet will de-fer yours till I am out of the room, I shall bevery thankful; and then you may say what-ever you like of me.”

“What you ask,” said Elizabeth, “is no sac-rifice on my side; and Mr. Darcy had much bet-ter finish his letter.”

Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finishhis letter.

When that business was over, he appliedto Miss Bingley and Elizabeth for an indul-gence of some music. Miss Bingley movedwith some alacrity to the pianoforte; and, af-

Chapter 10 69

ter a polite request that Elizabeth would leadthe way which the other as politely and moreearnestly negatived, she seated herself.

Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and whilethey were thus employed, Elizabeth couldnot help observing, as she turned over somemusic-books that lay on the instrument, howfrequently Mr. Darcy’s eyes were fixed on her.She hardly knew how to suppose that shecould be an object of admiration to so greata man; and yet that he should look at her be-cause he disliked her, was still more strange.She could only imagine, however, at last thatshe drew his notice because there was some-thing more wrong and reprehensible, accord-ing to his ideas of right, than in any other per-son present. The supposition did not pain her.She liked him too little to care for his appro-bation.

After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bin-gley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air;and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing nearElizabeth, said to her:

“Do not you feel a great inclination, MissBennet, to seize such an opportunity of danc-ing a reel?”

She smiled, but made no answer. He re-peated the question, with some surprise at hersilence.

“Oh!” said she, “I heard you before, but Icould not immediately determine what to sayin reply. You wanted me, I know, to say ‘Yes,’that you might have the pleasure of despisingmy taste; but I always delight in overthrowingthose kind of schemes, and cheating a person


of their premeditated contempt. I have, there-fore, made up my mind to tell you, that I donot want to dance a reel at all—and now de-spise me if you dare.”

“Indeed I do not dare.”Elizabeth, having rather expected to af-

front him, was amazed at his gallantry; butthere was a mixture of sweetness and arch-ness in her manner which made it difficult forher to affront anybody; and Darcy had neverbeen so bewitched by any woman as he was byher. He really believed, that were it not for theinferiority of her connections, he should be insome danger.

Miss Bingley saw, or suspected enough tobe jealous; and her great anxiety for the recov-ery of her dear friend Jane received some as-sistance from her desire of getting rid of Eliz-abeth.

She often tried to provoke Darcy into dis-liking her guest, by talking of their supposedmarriage, and planning his happiness in suchan alliance.

“I hope,” said she, as they were walkingtogether in the shrubbery the next day, “youwill give your mother-in-law a few hints, whenthis desirable event takes place, as to the ad-vantage of holding her tongue; and if you cancompass it, do cure the younger girls of run-ning after officers. And, if I may mention sodelicate a subject, endeavour to check that lit-tle something, bordering on conceit and im-pertinence, which your lady possesses.”

“Have you anything else to propose for mydomestic felicity?”

Chapter 10 71

“Oh! yes. Do let the portraits of your un-cle and aunt Phillips be placed in the galleryat Pemberley. Put them next to your great-uncle the judge. They are in the same profes-sion, you know, only in different lines. As foryour Elizabeth’s picture, you must not haveit taken, for what painter could do justice tothose beautiful eyes?”

“It would not be easy, indeed, to catch theirexpression, but their colour and shape, andthe eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might becopied.”

At that moment they were met from an-other walk by Mrs. Hurst and Elizabeth her-self.

“I did not know that you intended to walk,”said Miss Bingley, in some confusion, lest theyhad been overheard.

“You used us abominably ill,” answeredMrs. Hurst, “running away without telling usthat you were coming out.”

Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr.Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walk by herself.The path just admitted three. Mr. Darcy felttheir rudeness, and immediately said:

“This walk is not wide enough for ourparty. We had better go into the avenue.”

But Elizabeth, who had not the least in-clination to remain with them, laughingly an-swered:

“No, no; stay where you are. You arecharmingly grouped, and appear to uncom-mon advantage. The picturesque would bespoilt by admitting a fourth. Good-bye.”

She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she


rambled about, in the hope of being at homeagain in a day or two. Jane was already somuch recovered as to intend leaving her roomfor a couple of hours that evening.

Chapter 11

When the ladies removed after dinner, Eliz-abeth ran up to her sister, and seeing herwell guarded from cold, attended her intothe drawing-room, where she was welcomedby her two friends with many professions ofpleasure; and Elizabeth had never seen themso agreeable as they were during the hourwhich passed before the gentlemen appeared.Their powers of conversation were consider-able. They could describe an entertainmentwith accuracy, relate an anecdote with hu-mour, and laugh at their acquaintance withspirit.

But when the gentlemen entered, Janewas no longer the first object; Miss Bingley’seyes were instantly turned toward Darcy, andshe had something to say to him before he hadadvanced many steps. He addressed himselfto Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation;Mr. Hurst also made her a slight bow, andsaid he was “very glad;” but diffuseness andwarmth remained for Bingley’s salutation. Hewas full of joy and attention. The first half-hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest sheshould suffer from the change of room; and

73


she removed at his desire to the other side ofthe fireplace, that she might be further fromthe door. He then sat down by her, and talkedscarcely to anyone else. Elizabeth, at work inthe opposite corner, saw it all with great de-light.

When tea was over, Mr. Hurst remindedhis sister-in-law of the card-table—but invain. She had obtained private intelligencethat Mr. Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr.Hurst soon found even his open petition re-jected. She assured him that no one intendedto play, and the silence of the whole party onthe subject seemed to justify her. Mr. Hursthad therefore nothing to do, but to stretchhimself on one of the sofas and go to sleep.Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did thesame; and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied inplaying with her bracelets and rings, joinednow and then in her brother’s conversationwith Miss Bennet.

Miss Bingley’s attention was quite asmuch engaged in watching Mr. Darcy’sprogress through his book, as in reading herown; and she was perpetually either makingsome inquiry, or looking at his page. She couldnot win him, however, to any conversation; hemerely answered her question, and read on.At length, quite exhausted by the attempt tobe amused with her own book, which she hadonly chosen because it was the second volumeof his, she gave a great yawn and said, “Howpleasant it is to spend an evening in this way!I declare after all there is no enjoyment likereading! How much sooner one tires of any-

Chapter 11 75

thing than of a book! When I have a house ofmy own, I shall be miserable if I have not anexcellent library.”

No one made any reply. She then yawnedagain, threw aside her book, and cast her eyesround the room in quest for some amusement;when hearing her brother mentioning a ballto Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly towardshim and said:

“By the bye, Charles, are you really seriousin meditating a dance at Netherfield? I wouldadvise you, before you determine on it, to con-sult the wishes of the present party; I ammuch mistaken if there are not some amongus to whom a ball would be rather a punish-ment than a pleasure.”

“If you mean Darcy,” cried her brother,“he may go to bed, if he chooses, before itbegins—but as for the ball, it is quite a settledthing; and as soon as Nicholls has made whitesoup enough, I shall send round my cards.”

“I should like balls infinitely better,” shereplied, “if they were carried on in a differentmanner; but there is something insufferablytedious in the usual process of such a meet-ing. It would surely be much more rationalif conversation instead of dancing were madethe order of the day.”

“Much more rational, my dear Caroline, Idare say, but it would not be near so much likea ball.”

Miss Bingley made no answer, and soonafterwards she got up and walked about theroom. Her figure was elegant, and she walkedwell; but Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was


still inflexibly studious. In the desperation ofher feelings, she resolved on one effort more,and, turning to Elizabeth, said:

“Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you tofollow my example, and take a turn about theroom. I assure you it is very refreshing aftersitting so long in one attitude.”

Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to itimmediately. Miss Bingley succeeded no lessin the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcylooked up. He was as much awake to the nov-elty of attention in that quarter as Elizabethherself could be, and unconsciously closedhis book. He was directly invited to jointheir party, but he declined it, observing thathe could imagine but two motives for theirchoosing to walk up and down the room to-gether, with either of which motives his join-ing them would interfere. “What could hemean? She was dying to know what could behis meaning?”—and asked Elizabeth whethershe could at all understand him?

“Not at all,” was her answer; “but dependupon it, he means to be severe on us, and oursurest way of disappointing him will be to asknothing about it.”

Miss Bingley, however, was incapable ofdisappointing Mr. Darcy in anything, and per-severed therefore in requiring an explanationof his two motives.

“I have not the smallest objection to ex-plaining them,” said he, as soon as she al-lowed him to speak. “You either choose thismethod of passing the evening because youare in each other’s confidence, and have se-

Chapter 11 77

cret affairs to discuss, or because you are con-scious that your figures appear to the great-est advantage in walking; if the first, I wouldbe completely in your way, and if the second,I can admire you much better as I sit by thefire.”

“Oh! shocking!” cried Miss Bingley. “Inever heard anything so abominable. Howshall we punish him for such a speech?”

“Nothing so easy, if you have but the in-clination,” said Elizabeth. “We can all plagueand punish one another. Tease him—laugh athim. Intimate as you are, you must know howit is to be done.”

“But upon my honour, I do not. I do assureyou that my intimacy has not yet taught methat. Tease calmness of manner and presenceof mind! No, no—feel he may defy us there.And as to laughter, we will not expose our-selves, if you please, by attempting to laughwithout a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug him-self.”

“Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!” criedElizabeth. “That is an uncommon advantage,and uncommon I hope it will continue, for itwould be a great loss to me to have many suchacquaintances. I dearly love a laugh.”

“Miss Bingley,” said he, “has given memore credit than can be. The wisest and thebest of men—nay, the wisest and best of theiractions—may be rendered ridiculous by a per-son whose first object in life is a joke.”

“Certainly,” replied Elizabeth—“there aresuch 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 inconsisten-cies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at themwhenever I can. But these, I suppose, are pre-cisely what you are without.”

“Perhaps that is not possible for anyone.But it has been the study of my life to avoidthose weaknesses which often expose a strongunderstanding to ridicule.”

“Such as vanity and pride.”“Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But

pride—where there is a real superiority ofmind, pride will be always under good regu-lation.”

Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.“Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I

presume,” said Miss Bingley; “and pray whatis the result?”

“I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr.Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself with-out disguise.”

“No,” said Darcy, “I have made no such pre-tension. I have faults enough, but they arenot, I hope, of understanding. My temper Idare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too lit-tle yielding—certainly too little for the conve-nience of the world. I cannot forget the fol-lies and vices of others so soon as I ought, northeir offenses against myself. My feelings arenot puffed about with every attempt to movethem. My temper would perhaps be called re-sentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost for-ever.”

“That is a failing indeed!” cried Elizabeth.“Implacable resentment is a shade in a char-acter. But you have chosen your fault well. I

Chapter 11 79

really cannot laugh at it. You are safe fromme.”

“There is, I believe, in every disposition atendency to some particular evil—a naturaldefect, which not even the best education canovercome.”

“And your defect is to hate everybody.”“And yours,” he replied with a smile, “is

willfully to misunderstand them.”“Do let us have a little music,” cried Miss

Bingley, tired of a conversation in which shehad no share. “Louisa, you will not mind mywaking Mr. Hurst?”

Her sister had not the smallest objection,and the pianoforte was opened; and Darcy, af-ter a few moments’ recollection, was not sorryfor it. He began to feel the danger of payingElizabeth too much attention.

Chapter 12

In consequence of an agreement between thesisters, Elizabeth wrote the next morning totheir mother, to beg that the carriage mightbe sent for them in the course of the day.But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on herdaughters remaining at Netherfield till thefollowing Tuesday, which would exactly fin-ish Jane’s week, could not bring herself toreceive them with pleasure before. Her an-swer, therefore, was not propitious, at leastnot to Elizabeth’s wishes, for she was impa-tient to get home. Mrs. Bennet sent themword that they could not possibly have the car-riage before Tuesday; and in her postscript itwas added, that if Mr. Bingley and his sisterpressed them to stay longer, she could sparethem very well. Against staying longer, how-ever, Elizabeth was positively resolved—nordid she much expect it would be asked; andfearful, on the contrary, as being consideredas intruding themselves needlessly long, sheurged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley’s carriageimmediately, and at length it was settled thattheir original design of leaving Netherfieldthat morning should be mentioned, and the

81


request made.The communication excited many profes-

sions of concern; and enough was said of wish-ing them to stay at least till the following dayto work on Jane; and till the morrow their go-ing was deferred. Miss Bingley was then sorrythat she had proposed the delay, for her jeal-ousy and dislike of one sister much exceededher affection for the other.

The master of the house heard with realsorrow that they were to go so soon, and re-peatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet thatit would not be safe for her—that she was notenough recovered; but Jane was firm whereshe felt herself to be right.

To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intellig-ence—Elizabeth had been at Netherfield longenough. She attracted him more than heliked—and Miss Bingley was uncivil to her,and more teasing than usual to himself. Hewisely resolved to be particularly careful thatno sign of admiration should now escape him,nothing that could elevate her with the hopeof influencing his felicity; sensible that ifsuch an idea had been suggested, his be-haviour during the last day must have ma-terial weight in confirming or crushing it.Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke tenwords to her through the whole of Saturday,and though they were at one time left bythemselves for half-an-hour, he adhered mostconscientiously to his book, and would noteven look at her.

On Sunday, after morning service, the sep-aration, so agreeable to almost all, took place.

Chapter 12 83

Miss Bingley’s civility to Elizabeth increasedat last very rapidly, as well as her affection forJane; and when they parted, after assuringthe latter of the pleasure it would always giveher to see her either at Longbourn or Nether-field, and embracing her most tenderly, sheeven shook hands with the former. Elizabethtook leave of the whole party in the liveliest ofspirits.

They were not welcomed home very cor-dially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet wonderedat their coming, and thought them very wrongto give so much trouble, and was sure Janewould have caught cold again. But their fa-ther, though very laconic in his expressions ofpleasure, was really glad to see them; he hadfelt their importance in the family circle. Theevening conversation, when they were all as-sembled, had lost much of its animation, andalmost all its sense by the absence of Jane andElizabeth.

They found Mary, as usual, deep in thestudy of thorough-bass and human nature;and had some extracts to admire, and somenew observations of threadbare morality tolisten to. Catherine and Lydia had informa-tion for them of a different sort. Much hadbeen done and much had been said in the reg-iment since the preceding Wednesday; severalof the officers had dined lately with their un-cle, a private had been flogged, and it had ac-tually been hinted that colonel Foster was go-ing to be married.

Chapter 13

“I hope, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet to his wife,as they were at breakfast the next morning,“that you have ordered a good dinner to-day,because I have reason to expect an addition toour family party.”

“Who do you mean, my dear? I know of no-body that is coming, I am sure, unless Char-lotte Lucas should happen to call in—and Ihope my dinners are good enough for her. Ido not believe she often sees such at home.”

“The person of whom I speak is a gentle-man, and a stranger.”

Mrs. Bennet’s eyes sparkled. “A gentlemanand a stranger! It is Mr. Bingley, I am sure!Well, I am sure I shall be extremely glad to seeMr. Bingley. But—good Lord! how unlucky!There is not a bit of fish to be got to-day. Ly-dia, my love, ring the bell—I must speak toHill this moment.”

“It is not Mr. Bingley,” said her husband;“it is a person whom I never saw in the wholecourse of my life.”

This roused a general astonishment; andhe had the pleasure of being eagerly ques-tioned by his wife and his five daughters at

85


once.After amusing himself some time with

their curiosity, he thus explained:“About a month ago I received this letter;

and about a fortnight ago I answered it, for Ithought it a case of some delicacy, and requir-ing early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr.Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn youall out of this house as soon as he pleases.”

“Oh! my dear,” cried his wife, “I cannotbear to hear that mentioned. Pray do not talkof that odious man. I do think it is the hardestthing in the world, that your estate should beentailed away from your own children; and Iam sure, if I had been you, I should have triedlong ago to do something or other about it.”

Jane and Elizabeth tried to explain to herthe nature of an entail. They had often at-tempted to do it before, but it was a subjecton which Mrs. Bennet was beyond the reachof reason, and she continued to rail bitterlyagainst the cruelty of settling an estate awayfrom a family of five daughters, in favour of aman whom nobody cared anything about.

“It certainly is a most iniquitous affair,”said Mr. Bennet, “and nothing can clear Mr.Collins from the guilt of inheriting Long-bourn. But if you will listen to his letter, youmay perhaps be a little softened by his man-ner of expressing himself.”

“No, that I am sure I shall not; and I thinkit is very impertinent of him to write to youat all, and very hypocritical. I hate such falsefriends. Why could he not keep on quarrelingwith you, as his father did before him?”

Chapter 13 87

“Why, indeed; he does seem to have hadsome filial scruples on that head, as you willhear.

“‘Hunsford, near“‘Westerham, Kent,

“‘15th October.“‘DEAR SIR,—

“‘The disagreement subsistingbetween yourself and my late hon-oured father always gave me muchuneasiness, and since I have hadthe misfortune to lose him, Ihave frequently wished to healthe breach; but for some time Iwas kept back by my own doubts,fearing lest it might seem dis-respectful to his memory for meto be on good terms with anyonewith whom it had always pleasedhim to be at variance.’—There,Mrs. Bennet.—‘My mind, however,is now made up on the subject,for having received ordination atEaster, I have been so fortunateas to be distinguished by the pa-tronage of the Right HonourableLady Catherine de Bourgh, widowof Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whosebounty and beneficence has pre-ferred me to the valuable rectoryof this parish, where it shall be myearnest endeavour to demean my-self with grateful respect towardsher ladyship, and be ever ready


to perform those rites and cere-monies which are instituted by theChurch of England. As a clergy-man, moreover, I feel it my dutyto promote and establish the bless-ing of peace in all families withinin the reach of my influence; and onthese grounds I flatter myself thatmy present overtures are highlycommendable, and that the circum-stance of my being next in the en-tail of Longbourn estate will bekindly overlooked on your side, andnot lead you to reject the offeredolive-branch. I cannot be otherwisethan concerned at being the meansof injuring your amiable daugh-ters, and beg leave to apologisefor it, as well as to assure you ofmy readiness to make them everypossible amends—but of this here-after. If you should have no objec-tion to receive me into your house,I propose myself the satisfactionof waiting on you and your family,Monday, November 18th, by fouro’clock, and shall probably trespasson your hospitality till the Satur-day se’ennight following, which Ican do without any inconvenience,as Lady Catherine is far from ob-jecting to my occasional absenceon a Sunday, provided that someother clergyman is engaged to dothe duty of the day.—I remain, dear

Chapter 13 89

sir, with respectful compliments toyour lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,

“‘WILLIAM COLLINS’

“At four o’clock, therefore, we may expect thispeace-making gentleman,” said Mr. Bennet,as he folded up the letter. “He seems to bea most conscientious and polite young man,upon my word, and I doubt not will provea valuable acquaintance, especially if LadyCatherine should be so indulgent as to let himcome to us again.”

“There is some sense in what he says aboutthe girls, however, and if he is disposed tomake them any amends, I shall not be the per-son to discourage him.”

“Though it is difficult,” said Jane, “to guessin what way he can mean to make us theatonement he thinks our due, the wish is cer-tainly to his credit.”

Elizabeth was chiefly struck by his extraor-dinary deference for Lady Catherine, and hiskind intention of christening, marrying, andburying his parishioners whenever it were re-quired.

“He must be an oddity, I think,” said she.“I cannot make him out.—There is somethingvery pompous in his style.—And what canhe mean by apologising for being next in theentail?—We cannot suppose he would help itif he could.—Could he be a sensible man, sir?”

“No, my dear, I think not. I have greathopes of finding him quite the reverse. Thereis a mixture of servility and self-importance


in his letter, which promises well. I am impa-tient to see him.”

“In point of composition,” said Mary, “theletter does not seem defective. The idea of theolive-branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet Ithink it is well expressed.”

To Catherine and Lydia, neither the let-ter nor its writer were in any degree inter-esting. It was next to impossible that theircousin should come in a scarlet coat, and itwas now some weeks since they had receivedpleasure from the society of a man in anyother colour. As for their mother, Mr. Collins’sletter had done away much of her ill-will, andshe was preparing to see him with a degree ofcomposure which astonished her husband anddaughters.

Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, andwas received with great politeness by thewhole family. Mr. Bennet indeed said little;but the ladies were ready enough to talk, andMr. Collins seemed neither in need of encour-agement, nor inclined to be silent himself. Hewas a tall, heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty. His air was grave and stately,and his manners were very formal. He hadnot been long seated before he complimentedMrs. Bennet on having so fine a family ofdaughters; said he had heard much of theirbeauty, but that in this instance fame hadfallen short of the truth; and added, that hedid not doubt her seeing them all in due timedisposed of in marriage. This gallantry wasnot much to the taste of some of his hearers;but Mrs. Bennet, who quarreled with no com-

Chapter 13 91

pliments, answered most readily.“You are very kind, I am sure; and I wish

with all my heart it may prove so, for else theywill be destitute enough. Things are settled sooddly.”

“You allude, perhaps, to the entail of thisestate.”

“Ah! sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affairto my poor girls, you must confess. Not that Imean to find fault with you, for such things Iknow are all chance in this world. There is noknowing how estates will go when once theycome to be entailed.”

“I am very sensible, madam, of the hard-ship to my fair cousins, and could say much onthe subject, but that I am cautious of appear-ing forward and precipitate. But I can assurethe young ladies that I come prepared to ad-mire them. At present I will not say more; but,perhaps, when we are better acquainted—”

He was interrupted by a summons to din-ner; and the girls smiled on each other. Theywere not the only objects of Mr. Collins’ ad-miration. The hall, the dining-room, and allits furniture, were examined and praised; andhis commendation of everything would havetouched Mrs. Bennet’s heart, but for the mor-tifying supposition of his viewing it all as hisown future property. The dinner too in its turnwas highly admired; and he begged to know towhich of his fair cousins the excellency of itscooking was owing. But he was set right thereby Mrs. Bennet, who assured him with someasperity that they were very well able to keepa good cook, and that her daughters had noth-


ing to do in the kitchen. He begged pardonfor having displeased her. In a softened toneshe declared herself not at all offended; buthe continued to apologise for about a quarterof an hour.

Chapter 14

During dinner, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke atall; but when the servants were withdrawn,he thought it time to have some conversationwith his guest, and therefore started a sub-ject in which he expected him to shine, by ob-serving that he seemed very fortunate in hispatroness. Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s at-tention to his wishes, and consideration forhis comfort, appeared very remarkable. Mr.Bennet could not have chosen better. Mr.Collins was eloquent in her praise. The sub-ject elevated him to more than usual solem-nity of manner, and with a most importantaspect he protested that “he had never in hislife witnessed such behaviour in a person ofrank—such affability and condescension, ashe had himself experienced from Lady Cather-ine. She had been graciously pleased to ap-prove of both of the discourses which he hadalready had the honour of preaching beforeher. She had also asked him twice to dine atRosings, and had sent for him only the Satur-day before, to make up her pool of quadrillein the evening. Lady Catherine was reckonedproud by many people he knew, but he had

93


never seen anything but affability in her. Shehad always spoken to him as she would to anyother gentleman; she made not the smallestobjection to his joining in the society of theneighbourhood nor to his leaving the parishoccasionally for a week or two, to visit his re-lations. She had even condescended to advisehim to marry as soon as he could, providedhe chose with discretion; and had once paidhim a visit in his humble parsonage, whereshe had perfectly approved all the alterationshe had been making, and had even vouchsafedto suggest some herself—some shelves in thecloset upstairs.”

“That is all very proper and civil, I amsure,” said Mrs. Bennet, “and I dare say sheis a very agreeable woman. It is a pity thatgreat ladies in general are not more like her.Does she live near you, sir?”

“The garden in which stands my humbleabode is separated only by a lane from Ros-ings Park, her ladyship’s residence.”

“I think you said she was a widow, sir? Hasshe any family?”

“She has only one daughter, the heiress ofRosings, and of very extensive property.”

“Ah!” said Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head,“then she is better off than many girls. Andwhat sort of young lady is she? Is she hand-some?”

“She is a most charming young lady in-deed. Lady Catherine herself says that, inpoint of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far su-perior to the handsomest of her sex, becausethere is that in her features which marks the

Chapter 14 95

young lady of distinguished birth. She is un-fortunately of a sickly constitution, which hasprevented her from making that progress inmany accomplishments which she could nothave otherwise failed of, as I am informedby the lady who superintended her education,and who still resides with them. But sheis perfectly amiable, and often condescendsto drive by my humble abode in her littlephaeton and ponies.”

“Has she been presented? I do not remem-ber her name among the ladies at court.”

“Her indifferent state of health unhap-pily prevents her being in town; and by thatmeans, as I told Lady Catherine one day, hasdeprived the British court of its brightest or-naments. Her ladyship seemed pleased withthe idea; and you may imagine that I amhappy on every occasion to offer those lit-tle delicate compliments which are always ac-ceptable to ladies. I have more than once ob-served to Lady Catherine, that her charm-ing daughter seemed born to be a duchess,and that the most elevated rank, instead ofgiving her consequence, would be adorned byher. These are the kind of little things whichplease her ladyship, and it is a sort of atten-tion which I conceive myself peculiarly boundto pay.”

“You judge very properly,” said Mr. Ben-net, “and it is happy for you that you pos-sess the talent of flattering with delicacy. MayI ask whether these pleasing attentions pro-ceed from the impulse of the moment, or arethe result of previous study?”


“They arise chiefly from what is passing atthe time, and though I sometimes amuse my-self with suggesting and arranging such littleelegant compliments as may be adapted to or-dinary occasions, I always wish to give themas unstudied an air as possible.”

Mr. Bennet’s expectations were fully an-swered. His cousin was as absurd as he hadhoped, and he listened to him with the keen-est enjoyment, maintaining at the same timethe most resolute composure of countenance,and, except in an occasional glance at Eliza-beth, requiring no partner in his pleasure.

By tea-time, however, the dose had beenenough, and Mr. Bennet was glad to take hisguest into the drawing-room again, and, whentea was over, glad to invite him to read aloudto the ladies. Mr. Collins readily assented,and a book was produced; but, on beholdingit (for everything announced it to be from acirculating library), he started back, and beg-ging pardon, protested that he never read nov-els. Kitty stared at him, and Lydia exclaimed.Other books were produced, and after somedeliberation he chose Fordyce’s Sermons. Ly-dia gaped as he opened the volume, and beforehe had, with very monotonous solemnity, readthree pages, she interrupted him with:

“Do you know, mamma, that my unclePhillips talks of turning away Richard; andif he does, Colonel Forster will hire him.My aunt told me so herself on Saturday. Ishall walk to Meryton to-morrow to hear moreabout it, and to ask when Mr. Denny comesback from town.”

Chapter 14 97

Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters tohold her tongue; but Mr. Collins, much of-fended, laid aside his book, and said:

“I have often observed how little youngladies are interested by books of a seriousstamp, though written solely for their benefit.It amazes me, I confess; for, certainly, therecan be nothing so advantageous to them as in-struction. But I will no longer importune myyoung cousin.”

Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offeredhimself as his antagonist at backgammon. Mr.Bennet accepted the challenge, observing thathe acted very wisely in leaving the girls totheir own trifling amusements. Mrs. Ben-net and her daughters apologised most civillyfor Lydia’s interruption, and promised that itshould not occur again, if he would resumehis book; but Mr. Collins, after assuring themthat he bore his young cousin no ill-will, andshould never resent her behaviour as any af-front, seated himself at another table with Mr.Bennet, and prepared for backgammon.

Chapter 15

Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and thedeficiency of nature had been but little as-sisted by education or society; the greatestpart of his life having been spent under theguidance of an illiterate and miserly father;and though he belonged to one of the universi-ties, he had merely kept the necessary terms,without forming at it any useful acquain-tance. The subjection in which his father hadbrought him up had given him originally greathumility of manner; but it was now a gooddeal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weakhead, living in retirement, and the consequen-tial feelings of early and unexpected prosper-ity. A fortunate chance had recommended himto Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the liv-ing of Hunsford was vacant; and the respectwhich he felt for her high rank, and his vener-ation for her as his patroness, mingling witha very good opinion of himself, of his author-ity as a clergyman, and his right as a rector,made him altogether a mixture of pride andobsequiousness, self-importance and humility.

Having now a good house and a very suf-ficient income, he intended to marry; and in

99


seeking a reconciliation with the Longbournfamily he had a wife in view, as he meantto choose one of the daughters, if he foundthem as handsome and amiable as they wererepresented by common report. This was hisplan of amends—of atonement—for inheritingtheir father’s estate; and he thought it an ex-cellent one, full of eligibility and suitableness,and excessively generous and disinterested onhis own part.

His plan did not vary on seeing them. MissBennet’s lovely face confirmed his views, andestablished all his strictest notions of whatwas due to seniority; and for the first eveningshe was his settled choice. The next morning,however, made an alteration; for in a quarterof an hour’s tete-a-tete with Mrs. Bennet be-fore breakfast, a conversation beginning withhis parsonage-house, and leading naturallyto the avowal of his hopes, that a mistressmight be found for it at Longbourn, producedfrom her, amid very complaisant smiles andgeneral encouragement, a caution against thevery Jane he had fixed on. “As to her youngerdaughters, she could not take upon her tosay—she could not positively answer—but shedid not know of any prepossession; her eldestdaughter, she must just mention—she felt itincumbent on her to hint, was likely to be verysoon engaged.”

Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane toElizabeth—and it was soon done—done whileMrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth,equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, suc-ceeded her of course.

Chapter 15 101

Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, andtrusted that she might soon have two daugh-ters married; and the man whom she couldnot bear to speak of the day before was nowhigh in her good graces.

Lydia’s intention of walking to Merytonwas not forgotten; every sister except Maryagreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins wasto attend them, at the request of Mr. Ben-net, who was most anxious to get rid of him,and have his library to himself; for thitherMr. Collins had followed him after breakfast;and there he would continue, nominally en-gaged with one of the largest folios in the col-lection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, withlittle cessation, of his house and garden atHunsford. Such doings discomposed Mr. Ben-net exceedingly. In his library he had beenalways sure of leisure and tranquillity; andthough prepared, as he told Elizabeth, to meetwith folly and conceit in every other room ofthe house, he was used to be free from themthere; his civility, therefore, was most promptin inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughtersin their walk; and Mr. Collins, being in factmuch better fitted for a walker than a reader,was extremely pleased to close his large book,and go.

In pompous nothings on his side, and civilassents on that of his cousins, their timepassed till they entered Meryton. The atten-tion of the younger ones was then no longerto be gained by him. Their eyes were imme-diately wandering up in the street in questof the officers, and nothing less than a very


smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslinin a shop window, could recall them.

But the attention of every lady was sooncaught by a young man, whom they had neverseen before, of most gentlemanlike appear-ance, walking with another officer on theother side of the way. The officer was thevery Mr. Denny concerning whose return fromLondon Lydia came to inquire, and he bowedas they passed. All were struck with thestranger’s air, all wondered who he could be;and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possibleto find out, led the way across the street, un-der pretense of wanting something in an op-posite shop, and fortunately had just gainedthe pavement when the two gentlemen, turn-ing back, had reached the same spot. Mr.Denny addressed them directly, and entreatedpermission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wick-ham, who had returned with him the day be-fore from town, and he was happy to say hadaccepted a commission in their corps. Thiswas exactly as it should be; for the youngman wanted only regimentals to make himcompletely charming. His appearance wasgreatly in his favour; he had all the best partof beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure,and very pleasing address. The introductionwas followed up on his side by a happy readi-ness of conversation—a readiness at the sametime perfectly correct and unassuming; andthe whole party were still standing and talk-ing together very agreeably, when the soundof horses drew their notice, and Darcy andBingley were seen riding down the street. On

Chapter 15 103

distinguishing the ladies of the group, the twogentlemen came directly towards them, andbegan the usual civilities. Bingley was theprincipal spokesman, and Miss Bennet theprincipal object. He was then, he said, onhis way to Longbourn on purpose to inquireafter her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with abow, and was beginning to determine not tofix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they were sud-denly arrested by the sight of the stranger,and Elizabeth happening to see the counte-nance of both as they looked at each other,was all astonishment at the effect of the meet-ing. Both changed colour, one looked white,the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few mo-ments, touched his hat—a salutation whichMr. Darcy just deigned to return. What couldbe the meaning of it? It was impossible toimagine; it was impossible not to long to know.

In another minute, Mr. Bingley, but with-out seeming to have noticed what passed, tookleave and rode on with his friend.

Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked withthe young ladies to the door of Mr. Phillip’shouse, and then made their bows, in spiteof Miss Lydia’s pressing entreaties that theyshould come in, and even in spite of Mrs.Phillips’s throwing up the parlour windowand loudly seconding the invitation.

Mrs. Phillips was always glad to see hernieces; and the two eldest, from their recentabsence, were particularly welcome, and shewas eagerly expressing her surprise at theirsudden return home, which, as their own car-riage had not fetched them, she should have


known nothing about, if she had not happenedto see Mr. Jones’s shop-boy in the street,who had told her that they were not to sendany more draughts to Netherfield because theMiss Bennets were come away, when her civil-ity was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane’sintroduction of him. She received him withher very best politeness, which he returnedwith as much more, apologising for his intru-sion, without any previous acquaintance withher, which he could not help flattering him-self, however, might be justified by his rela-tionship to the young ladies who introducedhim to her notice. Mrs. Phillips was quiteawed by such an excess of good breeding; buther contemplation of one stranger was soonput to an end by exclamations and inquiriesabout the other; of whom, however, she couldonly tell her nieces what they already knew,that Mr. Denny had brought him from Lon-don, and that he was to have a lieutenant’scommission in the ——shire. She had beenwatching him the last hour, she said, as hewalked up and down the street, and had Mr.Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia wouldcertainly have continued the occupation, butunluckily no one passed windows now excepta few of the officers, who, in comparison withthe stranger, were become “stupid, disagree-able fellows.” Some of them were to dine withthe Phillipses the next day, and their auntpromised to make her husband call on Mr.Wickham, and give him an invitation also,if the family from Longbourn would come inthe evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs.

Chapter 15 105

Phillips protested that they would have a nicecomfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, anda little bit of hot supper afterwards. Theprospect of such delights was very cheering,and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr.Collins repeated his apologies in quitting theroom, and was assured with unwearying civil-ity that they were perfectly needless.

As they walked home, Elizabeth related toJane what she had seen pass between the twogentlemen; but though Jane would have de-fended either or both, had they appeared to bein the wrong, she could no more explain suchbehaviour than her sister.

Mr. Collins on his return highly gratifiedMrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs. Phillips’s man-ners and politeness. He protested that, ex-cept Lady Catherine and her daughter, he hadnever seen a more elegant woman; for she hadnot only received him with the utmost civility,but even pointedly included him in her invi-tation for the next evening, although utterlyunknown to her before. Something, he sup-posed, might be attributed to his connectionwith them, but yet he had never met with somuch attention in the whole course of his life.

Chapter 16

As no objection was made to the young peo-ple’s engagement with their aunt, and all Mr.Collins’s scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Ben-net for a single evening during his visit weremost steadily resisted, the coach conveyedhim and his five cousins at a suitable hourto Meryton; and the girls had the pleasureof hearing, as they entered the drawing-room,that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle’sinvitation, and was then in the house.

When this information was given, and theyhad all taken their seats, Mr. Collins was atleisure to look around him and admire, andhe was so much struck with the size andfurniture of the apartment, that he declaredhe might almost have supposed himself inthe small summer breakfast parlour at Ros-ings; a comparison that did not at first conveymuch gratification; but when Mrs. Phillipsunderstood from him what Rosings was, andwho was its proprietor—when she had lis-tened to the description of only one of LadyCatherine’s drawing-rooms, and found thatthe chimney-piece alone had cost eight hun-dred pounds, she felt all the force of the com-

107


pliment, and would hardly have resented acomparison with the housekeeper’s room.

In describing to her all the grandeur ofLady Catherine and her mansion, with occa-sional digressions in praise of his own humbleabode, and the improvements it was receiving,he was happily employed until the gentlemenjoined them; and he found in Mrs. Phillips avery attentive listener, whose opinion of hisconsequence increased with what she heard,and who was resolving to retail it all amongher neighbours as soon as she could. To thegirls, who could not listen to their cousin, andwho had nothing to do but to wish for an in-strument, and examine their own indifferentimitations of china on the mantelpiece, the in-terval of waiting appeared very long. It wasover at last, however. The gentlemen did ap-proach, and when Mr. Wickham walked intothe room, Elizabeth felt that she had neitherbeen seeing him before, nor thinking of himsince, with the smallest degree of unreason-able admiration. The officers of the ——shirewere in general a very creditable, gentleman-like set, and the best of them were of thepresent party; but Mr. Wickham was as far be-yond them all in person, countenance, air, andwalk, as they were superior to the broad-faced,stuffy uncle Phillips, breathing port wine, whofollowed them into the room.

Mr. Wickham was the happy man towardswhom almost every female eye was turned,and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whomhe finally seated himself; and the agreeablemanner in which he immediately fell into con-

Chapter 16 109

versation, though it was only on its being awet night, made her feel that the commonest,dullest, most threadbare topic might be ren-dered interesting by the skill of the speaker.

With such rivals for the notice of the fairas Mr. Wickham and the officers, Mr. Collinsseemed to sink into insignificance; to theyoung ladies he certainly was nothing; but hehad still at intervals a kind listener in Mrs.Phillips, and was by her watchfulness, mostabundantly supplied with coffee and muffin.When the card-tables were placed, he had theopportunity of obliging her in turn, by sittingdown to whist.

“I know little of the game at present,” saidhe, “but I shall be glad to improve myself, forin my situation in life—” Mrs. Phillips wasvery glad for his compliance, but could notwait for his reason.

Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, andwith ready delight was he received at theother table between Elizabeth and Lydia. Atfirst there seemed danger of Lydia’s engross-ing him entirely, for she was a most deter-mined talker; but being likewise extremelyfond of lottery tickets, she soon grew too muchinterested in the game, too eager in makingbets and exclaiming after prizes to have atten-tion for anyone in particular. Allowing for thecommon demands of the game, Mr. Wickhamwas therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth,and she was very willing to hear him, thoughwhat she chiefly wished to hear she could nothope to be told—the history of his acquain-tance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even


mention that gentleman. Her curiosity, how-ever, was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wick-ham began the subject himself. He inquiredhow far Netherfield was from Meryton; and,after receiving her answer, asked in a hesi-tating manner how long Mr. Darcy had beenstaying there.

“About a month,” said Elizabeth; and then,unwilling to let the subject drop, added, “Heis a man of very large property in Derbyshire,I understand.”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Wickham; “his estatethere is a noble one. A clear ten thousand perannum. You could not have met with a per-son more capable of giving you certain infor-mation on that head than myself, for I havebeen connected with his family in a particularmanner from my infancy.”

Elizabeth could not but look surprised.“You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet,

at such an assertion, after seeing, as you prob-ably might, the very cold manner of our meet-ing yesterday. Are you much acquainted withMr. Darcy?”

“As much as I ever wish to be,” cried Eliz-abeth very warmly. “I have spent four daysin the same house with him, and I think himvery disagreeable.”

“I have no right to give my opinion,” saidWickham, “as to his being agreeable or other-wise. I am not qualified to form one. I haveknown him too long and too well to be a fairjudge. It is impossible for me to be impar-tial. But I believe your opinion of him wouldin general astonish—and perhaps you would

Chapter 16 111

not express it quite so strongly anywhere else.Here you are in your own family.”

“Upon my word, I say no more here thanI might say in any house in the neighbour-hood, except Netherfield. He is not at allliked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is dis-gusted with his pride. You will not find himmore favourably spoken of by anyone.”

“I cannot pretend to be sorry,” said Wick-ham, after a short interruption, “that he orthat any man should not be estimated beyondtheir deserts; but with him I believe it doesnot often happen. The world is blinded byhis fortune and consequence, or frightened byhis high and imposing manners, and sees himonly as he chooses to be seen.”

“I should take him, even on my slight ac-quaintance, to be an ill-tempered man.” Wick-ham only shook his head.

“I wonder,” said he, at the next opportunityof speaking, “whether he is likely to be in thiscountry much longer.”

“I do not at all know; but I heard nothingof his going away when I was at Netherfield. Ihope your plans in favour of the ——shire willnot be affected by his being in the neighbour-hood.”

“Oh! no—it is not for me to be driven awayby Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me,he must go. We are not on friendly terms, andit always gives me pain to meet him, but Ihave no reason for avoiding him but what Imight proclaim before all the world, a sense ofvery great ill-usage, and most painful regretsat his being what he is. His father, Miss Ben-


net, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the bestmen that ever breathed, and the truest friendI ever had; and I can never be in companywith this Mr. Darcy without being grieved tothe soul by a thousand tender recollections.His behaviour to myself has been scandalous;but I verily believe I could forgive him any-thing and everything, rather than his disap-pointing the hopes and disgracing the memoryof his father.”

Elizabeth found the interest of the subjectincrease, and listened with all her heart; butthe delicacy of it prevented further inquiry.

Mr. Wickham began to speak on more gen-eral topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood, thesociety, appearing highly pleased with all thathe had yet seen, and speaking of the latterwith gentle but very intelligible gallantry.

“It was the prospect of constant society,and good society,” he added, “which was mychief inducement to enter the ——shire. Iknew it to be a most respectable, agreeablecorps, and my friend Denny tempted me fur-ther by his account of their present quarters,and the very great attentions and excellent ac-quaintances Meryton had procured them. So-ciety, I own, is necessary to me. I have beena disappointed man, and my spirits will notbear solitude. I must have employment andsociety. A military life is not what I was in-tended for, but circumstances have now madeit eligible. The church ought to have been myprofession—I was brought up for the church,and I should at this time have been in posses-sion of a most valuable living, had it pleased

Chapter 16 113

the gentleman we were speaking of just now.”“Indeed!”“Yes—the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me

the next presentation of the best living in hisgift. He was my godfather, and excessively at-tached to me. I cannot do justice to his kind-ness. He meant to provide for me amply, andthought he had done it; but when the livingfell, it was given elsewhere.”

“Good heavens!” cried Elizabeth; “but howcould that be? How could his will be disre-garded? Why did you not seek legal redress?”

“There was just such an informality in theterms of the bequest as to give me no hopefrom law. A man of honour could not havedoubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy choseto doubt it—or to treat it as a merely condi-tional recommendation, and to assert that Ihad forfeited all claim to it by extravagance,imprudence—in short anything or nothing.Certain it is, that the living became vacanttwo years ago, exactly as I was of an age tohold it, and that it was given to another man;and no less certain is it, that I cannot accusemyself of having really done anything to de-serve to lose it. I have a warm, unguardedtemper, and I may have spoken my opinion ofhim, and to him, too freely. I can recall noth-ing worse. But the fact is, that we are verydifferent sort of men, and that he hates me.”

“This is quite shocking! He deserves to bepublicly disgraced.”

“Some time or other he will be—but it shallnot be by me. Till I can forget his father, I cannever defy or expose him.”


Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings,and thought him handsomer than ever as heexpressed them.

“But what,” said she, after a pause, “canhave been his motive? What can have inducedhim to behave so cruelly?”

“A thorough, determined dislike of me—adislike which I cannot but attribute in somemeasure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcyliked me less, his son might have borne withme better; but his father’s uncommon attach-ment to me irritated him, I believe, very earlyin life. He had not a temper to bear the sortof competition in which we stood—the sort ofpreference which was often given me.”

“I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad asthis—though I have never liked him. I had notthought so very ill of him. I had supposed himto be despising his fellow-creatures in general,but did not suspect him of descending to suchmalicious revenge, such injustice, such inhu-manity as this.”

After a few minutes’ reflection, however,she continued, “I do remember his boastingone day, at Netherfield, of the implacability ofhis resentments, of his having an unforgivingtemper. His disposition must be dreadful.”

“I will not trust myself on the subject,”replied Wickham; “I can hardly be just tohim.”

Elizabeth was again deep in thought, andafter a time exclaimed, “To treat in such amanner the godson, the friend, the favouriteof his father!” She could have added, “A youngman, too, like you, whose very countenance

Chapter 16 115

may vouch for your being amiable”—but shecontented herself with, “and one, too, who hadprobably been his companion from childhood,connected together, as I think you said, in theclosest manner!”

“We were born in the same parish, withinthe same park; the greatest part of our youthwas passed together; inmates of the samehouse, sharing the same amusements, objectsof the same parental care. My father beganlife in the profession which your uncle, Mr.Phillips, appears to do so much credit to—buthe gave up everything to be of use to the lateMr. Darcy and devoted all his time to thecare of the Pemberley property. He was mosthighly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most inti-mate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often ac-knowledged himself to be under the greatestobligations to my father’s active superinten-dence, and when, immediately before my fa-ther’s death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntarypromise of providing for me, I am convincedthat he felt it to be as much a debt of grati-tude to him, as of his affection to myself.”

“How strange!” cried Elizabeth. “Howabominable! I wonder that the very pride ofthis Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you!If from no better motive, that he should nothave been too proud to be dishonest—for dis-honesty I must call it.”

“It is wonderful,” replied Wickham, “for al-most all his actions may be traced to pride;and pride had often been his best friend. Ithas connected him nearer with virtue thanwith any other feeling. But we are none of us


consistent, and in his behaviour to me therewere stronger impulses even than pride.”

“Can such abominable pride as his haveever done him good?”

“Yes. It has often led him to be liberal andgenerous, to give his money freely, to displayhospitality, to assist his tenants, and relievethe poor. Family pride, and filial pride—forhe is very proud of what his father was—havedone this. Not to appear to disgrace his family,to degenerate from the popular qualities, orlose the influence of the Pemberley House, is apowerful motive. He has also brotherly pride,which, with some brotherly affection, makeshim a very kind and careful guardian of hissister, and you will hear him generally criedup as the most attentive and best of brothers.”

“What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?”He shook his head. “I wish I could call

her amiable. It gives me pain to speak illof a Darcy. But she is too much like herbrother—very, very proud. As a child, she wasaffectionate and pleasing, and extremely fondof me; and I have devoted hours and hours toher amusement. But she is nothing to me now.She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or six-teen, and, I understand, highly accomplished.Since her father’s death, her home has beenLondon, where a lady lives with her, and su-perintends her education.”

After many pauses and many trials ofother subjects, Elizabeth could not help re-verting once more to the first, and saying:

“I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr.Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley, who seems

Chapter 16 117

good humour itself, and is, I really believe,truly amiable, be in friendship with such aman? How can they suit each other? Do youknow Mr. Bingley?”

“Not at all.”“He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charm-

ing man. He cannot know what Mr. Darcy is.”“Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please

where he chooses. He does not want abili-ties. He can be a conversible companion ifhe thinks it worth his while. Among thosewho are at all his equals in consequence, heis a very different man from what he is tothe less prosperous. His pride never desertshim; but with the rich he is liberal-minded,just, sincere, rational, honourable, and per-haps agreeable—allowing something for for-tune and figure.”

The whist party soon afterwards breakingup, the players gathered round the other ta-ble and Mr. Collins took his station betweenhis cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Phillips. Theusual inquiries as to his success was made bythe latter. It had not been very great; he hadlost every point; but when Mrs. Phillips beganto express her concern thereupon, he assuredher with much earnest gravity that it was notof the least importance, that he considered themoney as a mere trifle, and begged that shewould not make herself uneasy.

“I know very well, madam,” said he, “thatwhen persons sit down to a card-table, theymust take their chances of these things, andhappily I am not in such circumstances as tomake five shillings any object. There are un-


doubtedly many who could not say the same,but thanks to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I amremoved far beyond the necessity of regardinglittle matters.”

Mr. Wickham’s attention was caught; andafter observing Mr. Collins for a few moments,he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether herrelation was very intimately acquainted withthe family of de Bourgh.

“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” she replied,“has very lately given him a living. I hardlyknow how Mr. Collins was first introduced toher notice, but he certainly has not known herlong.”

“You know of course that Lady Catherinede Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters;consequently that she is aunt to the presentMr. Darcy.”

“No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing atall of Lady Catherine’s connections. I neverheard of her existence till the day before yes-terday.”

“Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have avery large fortune, and it is believed that sheand her cousin will unite the two estates.”

This information made Elizabeth smile, asshe thought of poor Miss Bingley. Vain indeedmust be all her attentions, vain and uselessher affection for his sister and her praise ofhimself, if he were already self-destined foranother.

“Mr. Collins,” said she, “speaks highly bothof Lady Catherine and her daughter; but fromsome particulars that he has related of her la-dyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him,

Chapter 16 119

and that in spite of her being his patroness,she is an arrogant, conceited woman.”

“I believe her to be both in a great de-gree,” replied Wickham; “I have not seen herfor many years, but I very well remember thatI never liked her, and that her manners weredictatorial and insolent. She has the reputa-tion of being remarkably sensible and clever;but I rather believe she derives part of herabilities from her rank and fortune, part fromher authoritative manner, and the rest fromthe pride for her nephew, who chooses thateveryone connected with him should have anunderstanding of the first class.”

Elizabeth allowed that he had given a veryrational account of it, and they continued talk-ing together, with mutual satisfaction till sup-per put an end to cards, and gave the rest ofthe ladies their share of Mr. Wickham’s at-tentions. There could be no conversation inthe noise of Mrs. Phillips’s supper party, buthis manners recommended him to everybody.Whatever he said, was said well; and what-ever he did, done gracefully. Elizabeth wentaway with her head full of him. She couldthink of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and ofwhat he had told her, all the way home; butthere was not time for her even to mentionhis name as they went, for neither Lydia norMr. Collins were once silent. Lydia talkedincessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish shehad lost and the fish she had won; and Mr.Collins in describing the civility of Mr. andMrs. Phillips, protesting that he did not in theleast regard his losses at whist, enumerating


all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fear-ing that he crowded his cousins, had more tosay than he could well manage before the car-riage stopped at Longbourn House.

Chapter 17

Elizabeth related to Jane the next day whathad passed between Mr. Wickham and herself.Jane listened with astonishment and concern;she knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcycould be so unworthy of Mr. Bingley’s regard;and yet, it was not in her nature to ques-tion the veracity of a young man of such ami-able appearance as Wickham. The possibilityof his having endured such unkindness, wasenough to interest all her tender feelings; andnothing remained therefore to be done, but tothink well of them both, to defend the conductof each, and throw into the account of accidentor mistake whatever could not be otherwiseexplained.

“They have both,” said she, “been deceived,I dare say, in some way or other, of whichwe can form no idea. Interested people haveperhaps misrepresented each to the other. Itis, in short, impossible for us to conjecturethe causes or circumstances which may havealienated them, without actual blame on ei-ther side.”

“Very true, indeed; and now, my dear Jane,what have you got to say on behalf of the in-

121


terested people who have probably been con-cerned in the business? Do clear them too, orwe shall be obliged to think ill of somebody.”

“Laugh as much as you choose, but you willnot laugh me out of my opinion. My dear-est Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgrace-ful light it places Mr. Darcy, to be treatinghis father’s favourite in such a manner, onewhom his father had promised to provide for.It is impossible. No man of common humanity,no man who had any value for his character,could be capable of it. Can his most intimatefriends be so excessively deceived in him? Oh!no.”

“I can much more easily believe Mr. Bin-gley’s being imposed on, than that Mr. Wick-ham should invent such a history of himselfas he gave me last night; names, facts, every-thing mentioned without ceremony. If it benot so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides,there was truth in his looks.”

“It is difficult indeed—it is distressing.One does not know what to think.”

“I beg your pardon; one knows exactlywhat to think.”

But Jane could think with certainty ononly one point—that Mr. Bingley, if he hadbeen imposed on, would have much to sufferwhen the affair became public.

The two young ladies were summonedfrom the shrubbery, where this conversationpassed, by the arrival of the very persons ofwhom they had been speaking; Mr. Bingleyand his sisters came to give their personal in-vitation for the long-expected ball at Nether-

Chapter 17 123

field, which was fixed for the following Tues-day. The two ladies were delighted to see theirdear friend again, called it an age since theyhad met, and repeatedly asked what she hadbeen doing with herself since their separation.To the rest of the family they paid little atten-tion; avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possi-ble, saying not much to Elizabeth, and noth-ing at all to the others. They were soon goneagain, rising from their seats with an activ-ity which took their brother by surprise, andhurrying off as if eager to escape from Mrs.Bennet’s civilities.

The prospect of the Netherfield ball wasextremely agreeable to every female of thefamily. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it asgiven in compliment to her eldest daughter,and was particularly flattered by receiving theinvitation from Mr. Bingley himself, insteadof a ceremonious card. Jane pictured to her-self a happy evening in the society of her twofriends, and the attentions of her brother; andElizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing agreat deal with Mr. Wickham, and of seeinga confirmation of everything in Mr. Darcy’slook and behavior. The happiness anticipatedby Catherine and Lydia depended less on anysingle event, or any particular person, forthough they each, like Elizabeth, meant todance half the evening with Mr. Wickham, hewas by no means the only partner who couldsatisfy them, and a ball was, at any rate, aball. And even Mary could assure her familythat she had no disinclination for it.

“While I can have my mornings to myself,”


said she, “it is enough—I think it is no sac-rifice to join occasionally in evening engage-ments. Society has claims on us all; and I pro-fess myself one of those who consider intervalsof recreation and amusement as desirable foreverybody.”

Elizabeth’s spirits were so high on this oc-casion, that though she did not often speakunnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could nothelp asking him whether he intended to ac-cept Mr. Bingley’s invitation, and if he did,whether he would think it proper to join inthe evening’s amusement; and she was rathersurprised to find that he entertained no scru-ple whatever on that head, and was very farfrom dreading a rebuke either from the Arch-bishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by ven-turing to dance.

“I am by no means of the opinion, I assureyou,” said he, “that a ball of this kind, givenby a young man of character, to respectablepeople, can have any evil tendency; and I amso far from objecting to dancing myself, that Ishall hope to be honoured with the hands of allmy fair cousins in the course of the evening;and I take this opportunity of soliciting yours,Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances espe-cially, a preference which I trust my cousinJane will attribute to the right cause, and notto any disrespect for her.”

Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in.She had fully proposed being engaged by Mr.Wickham for those very dances; and to haveMr. Collins instead! her liveliness had neverbeen worse timed. There was no help for it,

Chapter 17 125

however. Mr. Wickham’s happiness and herown were perforce delayed a little longer, andMr. Collins’ proposal accepted with as gooda grace as she could. She was not the bet-ter pleased with his gallantry from the ideait suggested of something more. It now firststruck her, that she was selected from amongher sisters as worthy of being mistress ofHunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to forma quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence ofmore eligible visitors. The idea soon reachedto conviction, as she observed his increasingcivilities toward herself, and heard his fre-quent attempt at a compliment on her wit andvivacity; and though more astonished thangratified herself by this effect of her charms,it was not long before her mother gave her tounderstand that the probability of their mar-riage was extremely agreeable to her. Eliza-beth, however, did not choose to take the hint,being well aware that a serious dispute mustbe the consequence of any reply. Mr. Collinsmight never make the offer, and till he did, itwas useless to quarrel about him.

If there had not been a Netherfield ball toprepare for and talk of, the younger Miss Ben-nets would have been in a very pitiable stateat this time, for from the day of the invitation,to the day of the ball, there was such a suc-cession of rain as prevented their walking toMeryton once. No aunt, no officers, no newscould be sought after—the very shoe-roses forNetherfield were got by proxy. Even Elizabethmight have found some trial of her patiencein weather which totally suspended the im-


provement of her acquaintance with Mr. Wick-ham; and nothing less than a dance on Tues-day, could have made such a Friday, Saturday,Sunday, and Monday endurable to Kitty andLydia.

Chapter 18

Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room atNetherfield, and looked in vain for Mr. Wick-ham among the cluster of red coats there as-sembled, a doubt of his being present hadnever occurred to her. The certainty of meet-ing him had not been checked by any ofthose recollections that might not unreason-ably have alarmed her. She had dressed withmore than usual care, and prepared in thehighest spirits for the conquest of all that re-mained unsubdued of his heart, trusting thatit was not more than might be won in thecourse of the evening. But in an instant arosethe dreadful suspicion of his being purposelyomitted for Mr. Darcy’s pleasure in the Bin-gleys’ invitation to the officers; and thoughthis was not exactly the case, the absolute factof his absence was pronounced by his friendDenny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, andwho told them that Wickham had been obligedto go to town on business the day before, andwas not yet returned; adding, with a signif-icant smile, “I do not imagine his businesswould have called him away just now, if hehad not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman

127


here.”This part of his intelligence, though un-

heard by Lydia, was caught by Elizabeth, and,as it assured her that Darcy was not less an-swerable for Wickham’s absence than if herfirst surmise had been just, every feeling ofdispleasure against the former was so sharp-ened by immediate disappointment, that shecould hardly reply with tolerable civility tothe polite inquiries which he directly after-wards approached to make. Attendance, for-bearance, patience with Darcy, was injury toWickham. She was resolved against any sortof conversation with him, and turned awaywith a degree of ill-humour which she couldnot wholly surmount even in speaking to Mr.Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her.

But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect of herown was destroyed for the evening, it couldnot dwell long on her spirits; and having toldall her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom shehad not seen for a week, she was soon ableto make a voluntary transition to the oddi-ties of her cousin, and to point him out to herparticular notice. The first two dances, how-ever, brought a return of distress; they weredances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkwardand solemn, apologising instead of attending,and often moving wrong without being awareof it, gave her all the shame and misery whicha disagreeable partner for a couple of dancescan give. The moment of her release from himwas ecstasy.

She danced next with an officer, and had

Chapter 18 129

the refreshment of talking of Wickham, and ofhearing that he was universally liked. Whenthose dances were over, she returned to Char-lotte Lucas, and was in conversation with her,when she found herself suddenly addressed byMr. Darcy who took her so much by surprisein his application for her hand, that, withoutknowing what she did, she accepted him. Hewalked away again immediately, and she wasleft to fret over her own want of presence ofmind; Charlotte tried to console her:

“I dare say you will find him very agree-able.”

“Heaven forbid! That would be the great-est misfortune of all! To find a man agreeablewhom one is determined to hate! Do not wishme such an evil.”

When the dancing recommenced, however,and Darcy approached to claim her hand,Charlotte could not help cautioning her in awhisper, not to be a simpleton, and allow herfancy for Wickham to make her appear un-pleasant in the eyes of a man ten times hisconsequence. Elizabeth made no answer, andtook her place in the set, amazed at the dig-nity to which she was arrived in being allowedto stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and readingin her neighbours’ looks, their equal amaze-ment in beholding it. They stood for sometime without speaking a word; and she be-gan to imagine that their silence was to lastthrough the two dances, and at first was re-solved not to break it; till suddenly fancyingthat it would be the greater punishment to herpartner to oblige him to talk, she made some


slight observation on the dance. He replied,and was again silent. After a pause of someminutes, she addressed him a second timewith:—“It is your turn to say something now,Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and youought to make some sort of remark on the sizeof the room, or the number of couples.”

He smiled, and assured her that whatevershe wished him to say should be said.

“Very well. That reply will do for thepresent. Perhaps by and by I may observethat private balls are much pleasanter thanpublic ones. But now we may be silent.”

“Do you talk by rule, then, while you aredancing?”

“Sometimes. One must speak a little, youknow. It would look odd to be entirely silentfor half an hour together; and yet for the ad-vantage of some, conversation ought to be soarranged, as that they may have the troubleof saying as little as possible.”

“Are you consulting your own feelings inthe present case, or do you imagine that youare gratifying mine?”

“Both,” replied Elizabeth archly; “for Ihave always seen a great similarity in theturn of our minds. We are each of an unso-cial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak,unless we expect to say something that willamaze the whole room, and be handed downto posterity with all the éclat of a proverb.”

“This is no very striking resemblance ofyour own character, I am sure,” said he. “Hownear it may be to mine, I cannot pretend tosay. You think it a faithful portrait undoubt-

Chapter 18 131

edly.”“I must not decide on my own perfor-

mance.”He made no answer, and they were again

silent till they had gone down the dance, whenhe asked her if she and her sisters did not veryoften walk to Meryton. She answered in theaffirmative, and, unable to resist the tempta-tion, added, “When you met us there the otherday, we had just been forming a new acquain-tance.”

The effect was immediate. A deeper shadeof hauteur overspread his features, but hesaid not a word, and Elizabeth, though blam-ing herself for her own weakness, could notgo on. At length Darcy spoke, and in aconstrained manner said, “Mr. Wickham isblessed with such happy manners as may en-sure his making friends—whether he may beequally capable of retaining them, is less cer-tain.”

“He has been so unlucky as to lose yourfriendship,” replied Elizabeth with emphasis,“and in a manner which he is likely to sufferfrom all his life.”

Darcy made no answer, and seemed de-sirous of changing the subject. At that mo-ment, Sir William Lucas appeared close tothem, meaning to pass through the set to theother side of the room; but on perceiving Mr.Darcy, he stopped with a bow of superior cour-tesy to compliment him on his dancing and hispartner.

“I have been most highly gratified indeed,my dear sir. Such very superior dancing is


not often seen. It is evident that you belongto the first circles. Allow me to say, however,that your fair partner does not disgrace you,and that I must hope to have this pleasure of-ten repeated, especially when a certain desir-able event, my dear Eliza (glancing at her sis-ter and Bingley) shall take place. What con-gratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr.Darcy:—but let me not interrupt you, sir. Youwill not thank me for detaining you from thebewitching converse of that young lady, whosebright eyes are also upbraiding me.”

The latter part of this address was scarcelyheard by Darcy; but Sir William’s allusion tohis friend seemed to strike him forcibly, andhis eyes were directed with a very serious ex-pression towards Bingley and Jane, who weredancing together. Recovering himself, how-ever, shortly, he turned to his partner, andsaid, “Sir William’s interruption has made meforget what we were talking of.”

“I do not think we were speaking at all. SirWilliam could not have interrupted two peo-ple in the room who had less to say for them-selves. We have tried two or three subjectsalready without success, and what we are totalk of next I cannot imagine.”

“What think you of books?” said he, smil-ing.

“Books—oh! no. I am sure we never readthe same, or not with the same feelings.”

“I am sorry you think so; but if that be thecase, there can at least be no want of subject.We may compare our different opinions.”

“No—I cannot talk of books in a ball-room;

Chapter 18 133

my head is always full of something else.”“The present always occupies you in such

scenes—does it?” said he, with a look of doubt.“Yes, always,” she replied, without know-

ing what she said, for her thoughts had wan-dered far from the subject, as soon afterwardsappeared by her suddenly exclaiming, “I re-member hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, thatyou hardly ever forgave, that your resentmentonce created was unappeasable. You are verycautious, I suppose, as to its being created.”

“I am,” said he, with a firm voice.“And never allow yourself to be blinded by

prejudice?”“I hope not.”“It is particularly incumbent on those who

never change their opinion, to be secure ofjudging properly at first.”

“May I ask to what these questions tend?”“Merely to the illustration of your charac-

ter,” said she, endeavouring to shake off hergravity. “I am trying to make it out.”

“And what is your success?”She shook her head. “I do not get on at all.

I hear such different accounts of you as puzzleme exceedingly.”

“I can readily believe,” answered hegravely, “that reports may vary greatly withrespect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet,that you were not to sketch my character atthe present moment, as there is reason to fearthat the performance would reflect no crediton either.”

“But if I do not take your likeness now, Imay never have another opportunity.”


“I would by no means suspend any plea-sure of yours,” he coldly replied. She said nomore, and they went down the other danceand parted in silence; and on each side dis-satisfied, though not to an equal degree, for inDarcy’s breast there was a tolerable powerfulfeeling towards her, which soon procured herpardon, and directed all his anger against an-other.

They had not long separated, when MissBingley came towards her, and with an ex-pression of civil disdain accosted her:

“So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite de-lighted with George Wickham! Your sisterhas been talking to me about him, and ask-ing me a thousand questions; and I find thatthe young man quite forgot to tell you, amonghis other communication, that he was the sonof old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy’s steward.Let me recommend you, however, as a friend,not to give implicit confidence to all his asser-tions; for as to Mr. Darcy’s using him ill, itis perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he hasalways been remarkably kind to him, thoughGeorge Wickham has treated Mr. Darcy in amost infamous manner. I do not know the par-ticulars, but I know very well that Mr. Darcyis not in the least to blame, that he cannotbear to hear George Wickham mentioned, andthat though my brother thought that he couldnot well avoid including him in his invitationto the officers, he was excessively glad to findthat he had taken himself out of the way. Hiscoming into the country at all is a most inso-lent thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could

Chapter 18 135

presume to do it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, forthis discovery of your favourite’s guilt; but re-ally, considering his descent, one could not ex-pect much better.”

“His guilt and his descent appear by youraccount to be the same,” said Elizabeth an-grily; “for I have heard you accuse him of noth-ing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy’ssteward, and of that, I can assure you, he in-formed me himself.”

“I beg your pardon,” replied Miss Bing-ley, turning away with a sneer. “Excuse myinterference—it was kindly meant.”

“Insolent girl!” said Elizabeth to herself.“You are much mistaken if you expect to in-fluence me by such a paltry attack as this.I see nothing in it but your own wilful igno-rance and the malice of Mr. Darcy.” She thensought her eldest sister, who has undertakento make inquiries on the same subject of Bin-gley. Jane met her with a smile of such sweetcomplacency, a glow of such happy expression,as sufficiently marked how well she was satis-fied with the occurrences of the evening. Eliz-abeth instantly read her feelings, and at thatmoment solicitude for Wickham, resentmentagainst his enemies, and everything else, gaveway before the hope of Jane’s being in thefairest way for happiness.

“I want to know,” said she, with a counte-nance no less smiling than her sister’s, “whatyou have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But per-haps you have been too pleasantly engaged tothink of any third person; in which case youmay be sure of my pardon.”


“No,” replied Jane, “I have not forgottenhim; but I have nothing satisfactory to tellyou. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole ofhis history, and is quite ignorant of the cir-cumstances which have principally offendedMr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good con-duct, the probity, and honour of his friend, andis perfectly convinced that Mr. Wickham hasdeserved much less attention from Mr. Darcythan he has received; and I am sorry to say byhis account as well as his sister’s, Mr. Wick-ham is by no means a respectable young man.I am afraid he has been very imprudent, andhas deserved to lose Mr. Darcy’s regard.”

“Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickhamhimself?”

“No; he never saw him till the other morn-ing at Meryton.”

“This account then is what he has receivedfrom Mr. Darcy. I am satisfied. But what doeshe say of the living?”

“He does not exactly recollect the circum-stances, though he has heard them from Mr.Darcy more than once, but he believes that itwas left to him conditionally only.”

“I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley’s sin-cerity,” said Elizabeth warmly; “but you mustexcuse my not being convinced by assurancesonly. Mr. Bingley’s defense of his friend was avery able one, I dare say; but since he is unac-quainted with several parts of the story, andhas learnt the rest from that friend himself, Ishall venture to still think of both gentlemenas I did before.”

She then changed the discourse to one

Chapter 18 137

more gratifying to each, and on which therecould be no difference of sentiment. Elizabethlistened with delight to the happy, thoughmodest hopes which Jane entertained of Mr.Bingley’s regard, and said all in her power toheighten her confidence in it. On their be-ing joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabethwithdrew to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry af-ter the pleasantness of her last partner shehad scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins cameup to them, and told her with great exultationthat he had just been so fortunate as to makea most important discovery.

“I have found out,” said he, “by a singularaccident, that there is now in the room a nearrelation of my patroness. I happened to over-hear the gentleman himself mentioning to theyoung lady who does the honours of the housethe names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, andof her mother Lady Catherine. How wonder-fully these sort of things occur! Who wouldhave thought of my meeting with, perhaps, anephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in thisassembly! I am most thankful that the dis-covery is made in time for me to pay my re-spects to him, which I am now going to do,and trust he will excuse my not having doneit before. My total ignorance of the connectionmust plead my apology.”

“You are not going to introduce yourself toMr. Darcy!”

“Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardonfor not having done it earlier. I believe himto be Lady Catherine’s nephew. It will be inmy power to assure him that her ladyship was


quite well yesterday se’nnight.”Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from

such a scheme, assuring him that Mr. Darcywould consider his addressing him without in-troduction as an impertinent freedom, ratherthan a compliment to his aunt; that it wasnot in the least necessary there should beany notice on either side; and that if it were,it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior inconsequence, to begin the acquaintance. Mr.Collins listened to her with the determinedair of following his own inclination, and, whenshe ceased speaking, replied thus:

“My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the high-est opinion in the world in your excellentjudgement in all matters within the scopeof your understanding; but permit me tosay, that there must be a wide differencebetween the established forms of ceremonyamongst the laity, and those which regu-late the clergy; for, give me leave to observethat I consider the clerical office as equal inpoint of dignity with the highest rank in thekingdom—provided that a proper humility ofbehaviour is at the same time maintained.You must therefore allow me to follow the dic-tates of my conscience on this occasion, whichleads me to perform what I look on as a pointof duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profitby your advice, which on every other subjectshall be my constant guide, though in the casebefore us I consider myself more fitted by ed-ucation and habitual study to decide on whatis right than a young lady like yourself.” Andwith a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy,

Chapter 18 139

whose reception of his advances she eagerlywatched, and whose astonishment at being soaddressed was very evident. Her cousin pref-aced his speech with a solemn bow and thoughshe could not hear a word of it, she felt asif hearing it all, and saw in the motion ofhis lips the words “apology,” “Hunsford,” and“Lady Catherine de Bourgh.” It vexed her tosee him expose himself to such a man. Mr.Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained won-der, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed himtime to speak, replied with an air of distantcivility. Mr. Collins, however, was not discour-aged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy’scontempt seemed abundantly increasing withthe length of his second speech, and at theend of it he only made him a slight bow, andmoved another way. Mr. Collins then returnedto Elizabeth.

“I have no reason, I assure you,” said he,“to be dissatisfied with my reception. Mr.Darcy seemed much pleased with the atten-tion. He answered me with the utmost ci-vility, and even paid me the compliment ofsaying that he was so well convinced of LadyCatherine’s discernment as to be certain shecould never bestow a favour unworthily. Itwas really a very handsome thought. Uponthe whole, I am much pleased with him.”

As Elizabeth had no longer any interest ofher own to pursue, she turned her attentionalmost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley;and the train of agreeable reflections whichher observations gave birth to, made her per-haps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her in


idea settled in that very house, in all the felic-ity which a marriage of true affection could be-stow; and she felt capable, under such circum-stances, of endeavouring even to like Bingley’stwo sisters. Her mother’s thoughts she plainlysaw were bent the same way, and she deter-mined not to venture near her, lest she mighthear too much. When they sat down to supper,therefore, she considered it a most unluckyperverseness which placed them within one ofeach other; and deeply was she vexed to findthat her mother was talking to that one per-son (Lady Lucas) freely, openly, and of noth-ing else but her expectation that Jane wouldsoon be married to Mr. Bingley. It was an ani-mating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed inca-pable of fatigue while enumerating the advan-tages of the match. His being such a charm-ing young man, and so rich, and living butthree miles from them, were the first points ofself-gratulation; and then it was such a com-fort to think how fond the two sisters wereof Jane, and to be certain that they must de-sire the connection as much as she could do.It was, moreover, such a promising thing forher younger daughters, as Jane’s marrying sogreatly must throw them in the way of otherrich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at hertime of life to be able to consign her singledaughters to the care of their sister, that shemight not be obliged to go into company morethan she liked. It was necessary to make thiscircumstance a matter of pleasure, because onsuch occasions it is the etiquette; but no onewas less likely than Mrs. Bennet to find com-

Chapter 18 141

fort in staying home at any period of her life.She concluded with many good wishes thatLady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate,though evidently and triumphantly believingthere was no chance of it.

In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to checkthe rapidity of her mother’s words, or per-suade her to describe her felicity in a less au-dible whisper; for, to her inexpressible vexa-tion, she could perceive that the chief of it wasoverheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite tothem. Her mother only scolded her for beingnonsensical.

“What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that Ishould be afraid of him? I am sure we owe himno such particular civility as to be obliged tosay nothing he may not like to hear.”

“For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower.What advantage can it be for you to offend Mr.Darcy? You will never recommend yourself tohis friend by so doing!”

Nothing that she could say, however, hadany influence. Her mother would talk of herviews in the same intelligible tone. Elizabethblushed and blushed again with shame andvexation. She could not help frequently glanc-ing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glanceconvinced her of what she dreaded; for thoughhe was not always looking at her mother, shewas convinced that his attention was invari-ably fixed by her. The expression of his facechanged gradually from indignant contemptto a composed and steady gravity.

At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had nomore to say; and Lady Lucas, who had been


long yawning at the repetition of delightswhich she saw no likelihood of sharing, wasleft to the comforts of cold ham and chicken.Elizabeth now began to revive. But not longwas the interval of tranquillity; for, when sup-per was over, singing was talked of, and shehad the mortification of seeing Mary, aftervery little entreaty, preparing to oblige thecompany. By many significant looks and silententreaties, did she endeavour to prevent sucha proof of complaisance, but in vain; Marywould not understand them; such an oppor-tunity of exhibiting was delightful to her, andshe began her song. Elizabeth’s eyes werefixed on her with most painful sensations, andshe watched her progress through the severalstanzas with an impatience which was veryill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiv-ing, amongst the thanks of the table, the hintof a hope that she might be prevailed on tofavour them again, after the pause of half aminute began another. Mary’s powers were byno means fitted for such a display; her voicewas weak, and her manner affected. Eliza-beth was in agonies. She looked at Jane, to seehow she bore it; but Jane was very composedlytalking to Bingley. She looked at his two sis-ters, and saw them making signs of derision ateach other, and at Darcy, who continued, how-ever, imperturbably grave. She looked at herfather to entreat his interference, lest Maryshould be singing all night. He took the hint,and when Mary had finished her second song,said aloud, “That will do extremely well, child.You have delighted us long enough. Let the

Chapter 18 143

other young ladies have time to exhibit.”Mary, though pretending not to hear, was

somewhat disconcerted; and Elizabeth, sorryfor her, and sorry for her father’s speech, wasafraid her anxiety had done no good. Othersof the party were now applied to.

“If I,” said Mr. Collins, “were so fortunateas to be able to sing, I should have great plea-sure, I am sure, in obliging the company withan air; for I consider music as a very innocentdiversion, and perfectly compatible with theprofession of a clergyman. I do not mean, how-ever, to assert that we can be justified in de-voting too much of our time to music, for thereare certainly other things to be attended to.The rector of a parish has much to do. In thefirst place, he must make such an agreementfor tithes as a may be beneficial to himself andnot offensive to his patron. He must write hisown sermons; and the time that remains willnot be too much for his parish duties, and thecare and improvement of his dwelling, whichhe cannot be excused from making as a com-fortable as possible. And I do not think itof light importance that he should have at-tentive and conciliatory manner towards ev-erybody, especially towards those to whom heowes his preferment. I cannot acquit him ofthat duty; nor could I think well of the manwho should omit an occasion of testifying hisrespect towards anybody connected with thefamily.” And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he con-cluded his speech, which had been spoken soloud as a to be heard by half the room. Manystared—many smiled; but no one looked more


amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while hiswife seriously commended Mr. Collins for hav-ing spoken so sensibly, and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was a remark-ably clever, good kind of young man.

To Elizabeth it appeared that, had herfamily made an agreement to expose them-selves as a much as a they could during theevening, it would have been impossible forthem to play their parts with more spirit orfiner success; and happy did she think it forBingley and her sister that some of the exhibi-tion had escaped his notice, and that his feel-ings were not of a sort to be much distressedby the folly which he must have witnessed.That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however,should have such an opportunity of ridiculingher relations, was bad enough, and she couldnot determine whether the silent contempt ofthe gentleman, or the insolent smiles of theladies, were more intolerable.

The rest of the evening brought her littleamusement. She was teased by Mr. Collins,who continued most perseveringly by her side,and though he could not prevail on her todance with him again, put it out of her powerto dance with others. In vain did she entreathim to stand up with somebody else, and of-fer to introduce him to any young lady in theroom. He assured her, that as to dancing, hewas perfectly indifferent to it; that his chiefobject was by delicate attentions to recom-mend himself to her and that he should there-fore make a point of remaining close to her thewhole evening. There was no arguing upon

Chapter 18 145

such a project. She owed her greatest relief toher friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them,and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins’s con-versation to herself.

She was at least free from the offenseof Mr. Darcy’s further notice; though oftenstanding within a very short distance of her,quite disengaged, he never came near enoughto speak. She felt it to be the probable conse-quence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, andrejoiced in it.

The Longbourn party were the last of allthe company to depart, and, by a manœu-vre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their car-riage a quarter of an hour after everybody elsewas gone, which gave them time to see howheartily they were wished away by some ofthe family. Mrs. Hurst and her sister scarcelyopened their mouths, except to complain of fa-tigue, and were evidently impatient to havethe house to themselves. They repulsed everyattempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, andby so doing threw a languor over the wholeparty, which was very little relieved by thelong speeches of Mr. Collins, who was compli-menting Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the el-egance of their entertainment, and the hospi-tality and politeness which had marked theirbehaviour to their guests. Darcy said nothingat all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was en-joying the scene. Mr. Bingley and Jane werestanding together, a little detached from therest, and talked only to each other. Elizabethpreserved as steady a silence as either Mrs.Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was


too much fatigued to utter more than the occa-sional exclamation of “Lord, how tired I am!”accompanied by a violent yawn.

When at length they arose to take leave,Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in herhope of seeing the whole family soon at Long-bourn, and addressed herself especially to Mr.Bingley, to assure him how happy he wouldmake them by eating a family dinner withthem at any time, without the ceremony ofa formal invitation. Bingley was all gratefulpleasure, and he readily engaged for takingthe earliest opportunity of waiting on her, af-ter his return from London, whither he wasobliged to go the next day for a short time.

Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, andquitted the house under the delightful persua-sion that, allowing for the necessary prepara-tions of settlements, new carriages, and wed-ding clothes, she should undoubtedly see herdaughter settled at Netherfield in the courseof three or four months. Of having anotherdaughter married to Mr. Collins, she thoughtwith equal certainty, and with considerable,though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth wasthe least dear to her of all her children; andthough the man and the match were quitegood enough for her, the worth of each waseclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.

Chapter 19

The next day opened a new scene at Long-bourn. Mr. Collins made his declaration inform. Having resolved to do it without loss oftime, as his leave of absence extended only tothe following Saturday, and having no feelingsof diffidence to make it distressing to him-self even at the moment, he set about it in avery orderly manner, with all the observances,which he supposed a regular part of the busi-ness. On finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, andone of the younger girls together, soon afterbreakfast, he addressed the mother in thesewords:

“May I hope, madam, for your interest withyour fair daughter Elizabeth, when I solicitfor the honour of a private audience with herin the course of this morning?”

Before Elizabeth had time for anything buta blush of surprise, Mrs. Bennet answered in-stantly, “Oh dear!—yes—certainly. I am sureLizzy will be very happy—I am sure she canhave no objection. Come, Kitty, I want you up-stairs.” And, gathering her work together, shewas hastening away, when Elizabeth calledout:

147


“Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will notgo. Mr. Collins must excuse me. He can havenothing to say to me that anybody need nothear. I am going away myself.”

“No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you tostay where you are.” And upon Elizabeth’sseeming really, with vexed and embarrassedlooks, about to escape, she added: “Lizzy,I insist upon your staying and hearing Mr.Collins.”

Elizabeth would not oppose such aninjunction—and a moment’s considerationmaking her also sensible that it would be wis-est to get it over as soon and as quietly as pos-sible, she sat down again and tried to conceal,by incessant employment the feelings whichwere divided between distress and diversion.Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off, and as soonas they were gone, Mr. Collins began.

“Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, thatyour modesty, so far from doing you any dis-service, rather adds to your other perfections.You would have been less amiable in my eyeshad there not been this little unwillingness;but allow me to assure you, that I have yourrespected mother’s permission for this ad-dress. You can hardly doubt the purport of mydiscourse, however your natural delicacy maylead you to dissemble; my attentions havebeen too marked to be mistaken. Almost assoon as I entered the house, I singled you outas the companion of my future life. But be-fore I am run away with by my feelings on thissubject, perhaps it would be advisable for meto state my reasons for marrying—and, more-

Chapter 19 149

over, for coming into Hertfordshire with thedesign of selecting a wife, as I certainly did.”

The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemncomposure, being run away with by his feel-ings, made Elizabeth so near laughing, thatshe could not use the short pause he allowedin any attempt to stop him further, and hecontinued:

“My reasons for marrying are, first, that Ithink it a right thing for every clergyman ineasy circumstances (like myself) to set the ex-ample of matrimony in his parish; secondly,that I am convinced that it will add verygreatly to my happiness; and thirdly—whichperhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier,that it is the particular advice and recommen-dation of the very noble lady whom I have thehonour of calling patroness. Twice has shecondescended to give me her opinion (unaskedtoo!) on this subject; and it was but thevery Saturday night before I left Hunsford––between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs.Jenkinson was arranging Miss de Bourgh’sfootstool, that she said, ‘Mr. Collins, you mustmarry. A clergyman like you must marry.Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for mysake; and for your own, let her be an active,useful sort of person, not brought up high, butable to make a small income go a good way.This is my advice. Find such a woman assoon as you can, bring her to Hunsford, andI will visit her.’ Allow me, by the way, to ob-serve, my fair cousin, that I do not reckonthe notice and kindness of Lady Catherinede Bourgh as among the least of the advan-


tages in my power to offer. You will find hermanners beyond anything I can describe; andyour wit and vivacity, I think, must be accept-able to her, especially when tempered with thesilence and respect which her rank will in-evitably excite. Thus much for my general in-tention in favour of matrimony; it remains tobe told why my views were directed towardsLongbourn instead of my own neighbourhood,where I can assure you there are many ami-able young women. But the fact is, that be-ing, as I am, to inherit this estate after thedeath of your honoured father (who, however,may live many years longer), I could not sat-isfy myself without resolving to choose a wifefrom among his daughters, that the loss tothem might be as little as possible, when themelancholy event takes place—which, how-ever, as I have already said, may not be forseveral years. This has been my motive, myfair cousin, and I flatter myself it will not sinkme in your esteem. And now nothing remainsbut for me but to assure you in the most an-imated language of the violence of my affec-tion. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent,and shall make no demand of that nature onyour father, since I am well aware that it couldnot be complied with; and that one thousandpounds in the four per cents, which will notbe yours till after your mother’s decease, isall that you may ever be entitled to. On thathead, therefore, I shall be uniformly silent;and you may assure yourself that no ungen-erous reproach shall ever pass my lips whenwe are married.”

Chapter 19 151

It was absolutely necessary to interrupthim now.

“You are too hasty, sir,” she cried. “Youforget that I have made no answer. Let medo it without further loss of time. Accept mythanks for the compliment you are paying me.I am very sensible of the honour of your pro-posals, but it is impossible for me to do other-wise than to decline them.”

“I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins,with a formal wave of the hand, “that itis usual with young ladies to reject the ad-dresses of the man whom they secretly meanto accept, when he first applies for theirfavour; and that sometimes the refusal is re-peated a second, or even a third time. I amtherefore by no means discouraged by whatyou have just said, and shall hope to lead youto the altar ere long.”

“Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “yourhope is a rather extraordinary one after mydeclaration. I do assure you that I am notone of those young ladies (if such young ladiesthere are) who are so daring as to risk theirhappiness on the chance of being asked a sec-ond time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal.You could not make me happy, and I am con-vinced that I am the last woman in the worldwho could make you so. Nay, were your friendLady Catherine to know me, I am persuadedshe would find me in every respect ill qualifiedfor the situation.”

“Were it certain that Lady Catherinewould think so,” said Mr. Collins verygravely—“but I cannot imagine that her lady-


ship would at all disapprove of you. And youmay be certain when I have the honour of see-ing her again, I shall speak in the very high-est terms of your modesty, economy, and otheramiable qualification.”

“Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me willbe unnecessary. You must give me leave tojudge for myself, and pay me the complimentof believing what I say. I wish you very happyand very rich, and by refusing your hand, doall in my power to prevent your being other-wise. In making me the offer, you must havesatisfied the delicacy of your feelings with re-gard to my family, and may take possession ofLongbourn estate whenever it falls, withoutany self-reproach. This matter may be consid-ered, therefore, as finally settled.” And risingas she thus spoke, she would have quitted theroom, had Mr. Collins not thus addressed her:

“When I do myself the honour of speakingto you next on the subject, I shall hope to re-ceive a more favourable answer than you havenow given me; though I am far from accusingyou of cruelty at present, because I know it tobe the established custom of your sex to rejecta man on the first application, and perhapsyou have even now said as much to encouragemy suit as would be consistent with the truedelicacy of the female character.”

“Really, Mr. Collins,” cried Elizabeth withsome warmth, “you puzzle me exceedingly. Ifwhat I have hitherto said can appear to youin the form of encouragement, I know not howto express my refusal in such a way as to con-vince you of its being one.”

Chapter 19 153

“You must give me leave to flatter myself,my dear cousin, that your refusal of my ad-dresses is merely words of course. My rea-sons for believing it are briefly these: It doesnot appear to me that my hand is unworthyyour acceptance, or that the establishment Ican offer would be any other than highly de-sirable. My situation in life, my connectionswith the family of de Bourgh, and my relation-ship to your own, are circumstances highly inmy favour; and you should take it into furtherconsideration, that in spite of your manifoldattractions, it is by no means certain that an-other offer of marriage may ever be made you.Your portion is unhappily so small that it willin all likelihood undo the effects of your love-liness and amiable qualifications. As I musttherefore conclude that you are not serious inyour rejection of me, I shall choose to attributeit to your wish of increasing my love by sus-pense, according to the usual practice of ele-gant females.”

“I do assure you, sir, that I have no preten-sions whatever to that kind of elegance whichconsists in tormenting a respectable man. Iwould rather be paid the compliment of beingbelieved sincere. I thank you again and againfor the honour you have done me in your pro-posals, but to accept them is absolutely impos-sible. My feelings in every respect forbid it.Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me nowas an elegant female, intending to plague you,but as a rational creature, speaking the truthfrom her heart.”

“You are uniformly charming!” cried he,


with an air of awkward gallantry; “and I ampersuaded that when sanctioned by the ex-press authority of both your excellent parents,my proposals will not fail of being acceptable.”

To such perseverance in wilful self-deception Elizabeth would make no reply, andimmediately and in silence withdrew; deter-mined, if he persisted in considering her re-peated refusals as flattering encouragement,to apply to her father, whose negative mightbe uttered in such a manner as to be decisive,and whose behavior at least could not be mis-taken for the affectation and coquetry of anelegant female.

Chapter 20

Mr. Collins was not left long to the silentcontemplation of his successful love; forMrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in thevestibule to watch for the end of the con-ference, no sooner saw Elizabeth open thedoor and with quick step pass her towardsthe staircase, than she entered the breakfast-room, and congratulated both him and herselfin warm terms on the happy prospect or theirnearer connection. Mr. Collins received andreturned these felicitations with equal plea-sure, and then proceeded to relate the particu-lars of their interview, with the result of whichhe trusted he had every reason to be satisfied,since the refusal which his cousin had stead-fastly given him would naturally flow fromher bashful modesty and the genuine delicacyof her character.

This information, however, startled Mrs.Bennet; she would have been glad to beequally satisfied that her daughter had meantto encourage him by protesting against hisproposals, but she dared not believe it, andcould not help saying so.

“But, depend upon it, Mr. Collins,” she

155


added, “that Lizzy shall be brought to reason.I will speak to her about it directly. She isa very headstrong, foolish girl, and does notknow her own interest but I will make herknow it.”

“Pardon me for interrupting you, madam,”cried Mr. Collins; “but if she is really head-strong and foolish, I know not whether shewould altogether be a very desirable wife toa man in my situation, who naturally looksfor happiness in the marriage state. If there-fore she actually persists in rejecting my suit,perhaps it were better not to force her into ac-cepting me, because if liable to such defects oftemper, she could not contribute much to myfelicity.”

“Sir, you quite misunderstand me,” saidMrs. Bennet, alarmed. “Lizzy is only head-strong in such matters as these. In everythingelse she is as good-natured a girl as ever lived.I will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and we shallvery soon settle it with her, I am sure.”

She would not give him time to reply, buthurrying instantly to her husband, called outas she entered the library, “Oh! Mr. Bennet,you are wanted immediately; we are all inan uproar. You must come and make Lizzymarry Mr. Collins, for she vows she will nothave him, and if you do not make haste hewill change his mind and not have her.”

Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book asshe entered, and fixed them on her face witha calm unconcern which was not in the leastaltered by her communication.

“I have not the pleasure of understand-

Chapter 20 157

ing you,” said he, when she had finished herspeech. “Of what are you talking?”

“Of Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declaresshe will not have Mr. Collins, and Mr. Collinsbegins to say that he will not have Lizzy.”

“And what am I to do on the occasion? Itseems an hopeless business.”

“Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell herthat you insist upon her marrying him.”

“Let her be called down. She shall hear myopinion.”

Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Eliza-beth was summoned to the library.

“Come here, child,” cried her father as sheappeared. “I have sent for you on an affairof importance. I understand that Mr. Collinshas made you an offer of marriage. Is it true?”Elizabeth replied that it was. “Very well—andthis offer of marriage you have refused?”

“I have, sir.”“Very well. We now come to the point. Your

mother insists upon your accepting it. Is it notso, Mrs. Bennet?”

“Yes, or I will never see her again.”“An unhappy alternative is before you,

Elizabeth. From this day you must be astranger to one of your parents. Your motherwill never see you again if you do not marryMr. Collins, and I will never see you again ifyou do.”

Elizabeth could not but smile at such aconclusion of such a beginning, but Mrs. Ben-net, who had persuaded herself that her hus-band regarded the affair as she wished, wasexcessively disappointed.


“What do you mean, Mr. Bennet, in talkingthis way? You promised me to insist upon hermarrying him.”

“My dear,” replied her husband, “I havetwo small favours to request. First, that youwill allow me the free use of my understand-ing on the present occasion; and secondly, ofmy room. I shall be glad to have the library tomyself as soon as may be.”

Not yet, however, in spite of her disap-pointment in her husband, did Mrs. Bennetgive up the point. She talked to Elizabethagain and again; coaxed and threatened herby turns. She endeavoured to secure Janein her interest; but Jane, with all possiblemildness, declined interfering; and Elizabeth,sometimes with real earnestness, and some-times with playful gaiety, replied to her at-tacks. Though her manner varied, however,her determination never did.

Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating insolitude on what had passed. He thought toowell of himself to comprehend on what mo-tives his cousin could refuse him; and thoughhis pride was hurt, he suffered in no otherway. His regard for her was quite imagi-nary; and the possibility of her deserving hermother’s reproach prevented his feeling anyregret.

While the family were in this confusion,Charlotte Lucas came to spend the day withthem. She was met in the vestibule by Lydia,who, flying to her, cried in a half whisper, “Iam glad you are come, for there is such funhere! What do you think has happened this

Chapter 20 159

morning? Mr. Collins has made an offer toLizzy, and she will not have him.”

Charlotte hardly had time to answer, be-fore they were joined by Kitty, who came totell the same news; and no sooner had theyentered the breakfast-room, where Mrs. Ben-net was alone, than she likewise began on thesubject, calling on Miss Lucas for her com-passion, and entreating her to persuade herfriend Lizzy to comply with the wishes of allher family. “Pray do, my dear Miss Lucas,”she added in a melancholy tone, “for nobody ison my side, nobody takes part with me. I amcruelly used, nobody feels for my poor nerves.”

Charlotte’s reply was spared by the en-trance of Jane and Elizabeth.

“Aye, there she comes,” continued Mrs.Bennet, “looking as unconcerned as may be,and caring no more for us than if we were atYork, provided she can have her own way. ButI tell you, Miss Lizzy—if you take it into yourhead to go on refusing every offer of marriagein this way, you will never get a husband atall—and I am sure I do not know who is tomaintain you when your father is dead. I shallnot be able to keep you—and so I warn you.I have done with you from this very day. Itold you in the library, you know, that I shouldnever speak to you again, and you will findme as good as my word. I have no pleasure intalking to undutiful children. Not that I havemuch pleasure, indeed, in talking to anybody.People who suffer as I do from nervous com-plaints can have no great inclination for talk-ing. Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is al-


ways so. Those who do not complain are neverpitied.”

Her daughters listened in silence to thiseffusion, sensible that any attempt to reasonwith her or soothe her would only increase theirritation. She talked on, therefore, withoutinterruption from any of them, till they werejoined by Mr. Collins, who entered the roomwith an air more stately than usual, and onperceiving whom, she said to the girls, “Now,I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, holdyour tongues, and let me and Mr. Collins havea little conversation together.”

Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room,Jane and Kitty followed, but Lydia stood herground, determined to hear all she could; andCharlotte, detained first by the civility of Mr.Collins, whose inquiries after herself and allher family were very minute, and then by alittle curiosity, satisfied herself with walkingto the window and pretending not to hear. In adoleful voice Mrs. Bennet began the projectedconversation: “Oh! Mr. Collins!”

“My dear madam,” replied he, “let us be forever silent on this point. Far be it from me,”he presently continued, in a voice that markedhis displeasure, “to resent the behaviour ofyour daughter. Resignation to inevitable evilsis the evil duty of us all; the peculiar duty ofa young man who has been so fortunate asI have been in early preferment; and I trustI am resigned. Perhaps not the less so fromfeeling a doubt of my positive happiness hadmy fair cousin honoured me with her hand;for I have often observed that resignation is

Chapter 20 161

never so perfect as when the blessing deniedbegins to lose somewhat of its value in our es-timation. You will not, I hope, consider meas showing any disrespect to your family, mydear madam, by thus withdrawing my preten-sions to your daughter’s favour, without hav-ing paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the compli-ment of requesting you to interpose your au-thority in my behalf. My conduct may, I fear,be objectionable in having accepted my dis-mission from your daughter’s lips instead ofyour own. But we are all liable to error. Ihave certainly meant well through the wholeaffair. My object has been to secure an ami-able companion for myself, with due consider-ation for the advantage of all your family, andif my manner has been at all reprehensible, Ihere beg leave to apologise.”

Chapter 21

The discussion of Mr. Collins’s offer was nownearly at an end, and Elizabeth had only tosuffer from the uncomfortable feelings nec-essarily attending it, and occasionally fromsome peevish allusions of her mother. Asfor the gentleman himself, his feelings werechiefly expressed, not by embarrassment ordejection, or by trying to avoid her, but bystiffness of manner and resentful silence. Hescarcely ever spoke to her, and the assiduousattentions which he had been so sensible ofhimself were transferred for the rest of theday to Miss Lucas, whose civility in listeningto him was a seasonable relief to them all, andespecially to her friend.

The morrow produced no abatement ofMrs. Bennet’s ill-humour or ill health. Mr.Collins was also in the same state of angrypride. Elizabeth had hoped that his resent-ment might shorten his visit, but his plan didnot appear in the least affected by it. He wasalways to have gone on Saturday, and to Sat-urday he meant to stay.

After breakfast, the girls walked to Mery-ton to inquire if Mr. Wickham were returned,

163


and to lament over his absence from theNetherfield ball. He joined them on their en-tering the town, and attended them to theiraunt’s where his regret and vexation, and theconcern of everybody, was well talked over. ToElizabeth, however, he voluntarily acknowl-edged that the necessity of his absence hadbeen self-imposed.

“I found,” said he, “as the time drew nearthat I had better not meet Mr. Darcy; that tobe in the same room, the same party with himfor so many hours together, might be morethan I could bear, and that scenes might ariseunpleasant to more than myself.”

She highly approved his forbearance, andthey had leisure for a full discussion of it, andfor all the commendation which they civillybestowed on each other, as Wickham and an-other officer walked back with them to Long-bourn, and during the walk he particularly at-tended to her. His accompanying them was adouble advantage; she felt all the complimentit offered to herself, and it was most accept-able as an occasion of introducing him to herfather and mother.

Soon after their return, a letter was de-livered to Miss Bennet; it came from Nether-field. The envelope contained a sheet of el-egant, little, hot-pressed paper, well coveredwith a lady’s fair, flowing hand; and Eliza-beth saw her sister’s countenance change asshe read it, and saw her dwelling intently onsome particular passages. Jane recollectedherself soon, and putting the letter away, triedto join with her usual cheerfulness in the gen-

Chapter 21 165

eral conversation; but Elizabeth felt an anxi-ety on the subject which drew off her attentioneven from Wickham; and no sooner had heand he companion taken leave, than a glancefrom Jane invited her to follow her upstairs.When they had gained their own room, Jane,taking out the letter, said:

“This is from Caroline Bingley; what it con-tains has surprised me a good deal. The wholeparty have left Netherfield by this time, andare on their way to town—and without any in-tention of coming back again. You shall hearwhat she says.”

She then read the first sentence aloud,which comprised the information of their hav-ing just resolved to follow their brother totown directly, and of their meaning to dinein Grosvenor Street, where Mr. Hurst had ahouse. The next was in these words: “I donot pretend to regret anything I shall leave inHertfordshire, except your society, my dearestfriend; but we will hope, at some future pe-riod, to enjoy many returns of that delightfulintercourse we have known, and in the mean-while may lessen the pain of separation by avery frequent and most unreserved correspon-dence. I depend on you for that.” To thesehighflown expressions Elizabeth listened withall the insensibility of distrust; and thoughthe suddenness of their removal surprisedher, she saw nothing in it really to lament;it was not to be supposed that their absencefrom Netherfield would prevent Mr. Bingley’sbeing there; and as to the loss of their soci-ety, she was persuaded that Jane must cease


to regard it, in the enjoyment of his.“It is unlucky,” said she, after a short

pause, “that you should not be able to see yourfriends before they leave the country. But maywe not hope that the period of future hap-piness to which Miss Bingley looks forwardmay arrive earlier than she is aware, and thatthe delightful intercourse you have known asfriends will be renewed with yet greater sat-isfaction as sisters? Mr. Bingley will not bedetained in London by them.”

“Caroline decidedly says that none of theparty will return into Hertfordshire this win-ter. I will read it to you:”

“When my brother left us yes-terday, he imagined that the busi-ness which took him to Londonmight be concluded in three or fourdays; but as we are certain it can-not be so, and at the same timeconvinced that when Charles getsto town he will be in no hurry toleave it again, we have determinedon following him thither, that hemay not be obliged to spend hisvacant hours in a comfortless ho-tel. Many of my acquaintancesare already there for the winter; Iwish that I could hear that you, mydearest friend, had any intentionof making one of the crowd—butof that I despair. I sincerely hopeyour Christmas in Hertfordshiremay abound in the gaieties which

Chapter 21 167

that season generally brings, andthat your beaux will be so numer-ous as to prevent your feeling theloss of the three of whom we shalldeprive you.”

“It is evident by this,” added Jane, “that hecomes back no more this winter.”

“It is only evident that Miss Bingley doesnot mean that he should.”

“Why will you think so? It must be his owndoing. He is his own master. But you do notknow all. I will read you the passage whichparticularly hurts me. I will have no reservesfrom you.”

“Mr. Darcy is impatient to seehis sister; and, to confess thetruth, we are scarcely less eagerto meet her again. I really donot think Georgiana Darcy has herequal for beauty, elegance, and ac-complishments; and the affectionshe inspires in Louisa and myselfis heightened into something stillmore interesting, from the hope wedare entertain of her being here-after our sister. I do not knowwhether I ever before mentionedto you my feelings on this sub-ject; but I will not leave the coun-try without confiding them, and Itrust you will not esteem them un-reasonable. My brother admiresher greatly already; he will have


frequent opportunity now of see-ing her on the most intimate foot-ing; her relations all wish the con-nection as much as his own; anda sister’s partiality is not mis-leading me, I think, when I callCharles most capable of engagingany woman’s heart. With all thesecircumstances to favour an attach-ment, and nothing to prevent it, amI wrong, my dearest Jane, in in-dulging the hope of an event whichwill secure the happiness of somany?”

“What do you think of this sentence, my dearLizzy?” said Jane as she finished it. “Is it notclear enough? Does it not expressly declarethat Caroline neither expects nor wishes meto be her sister; that she is perfectly convincedof her brother’s indifference; and that if shesuspects the nature of my feelings for him, shemeans (most kindly!) to put me on my guard?Can there be any other opinion on the sub-ject?”

“Yes, there can; for mine is totally differ-ent. Will you hear it?”

“Most willingly.”“You shall have it in a few words. Miss Bin-

gley sees that her brother is in love with you,and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She fol-lows him to town in hope of keeping him there,and tries to persuade you that he does not careabout you.”

Jane shook her head.

Chapter 21 169

“Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me. Noone who has ever seen you together can doubthis affection. Miss Bingley, I am sure, can-not. She is not such a simpleton. Could shehave seen half as much love in Mr. Darcy forherself, she would have ordered her weddingclothes. But the case is this: We are not richenough or grand enough for them; and she isthe more anxious to get Miss Darcy for herbrother, from the notion that when there hasbeen one intermarriage, she may have lesstrouble in achieving a second; in which thereis certainly some ingenuity, and I dare say itwould succeed, if Miss de Bourgh were outof the way. But, my dearest Jane, you can-not seriously imagine that because Miss Bing-ley tells you her brother greatly admires MissDarcy, he is in the smallest degree less sen-sible of your merit than when he took leaveof you on Tuesday, or that it will be in herpower to persuade him that, instead of beingin love with you, he is very much in love withher friend.”

“If we thought alike of Miss Bingley,”replied Jane, “your representation of all thismight make me quite easy. But I know thefoundation is unjust. Caroline is incapable ofwilfully deceiving anyone; and all that I canhope in this case is that she is deceiving her-self.”

“That is right. You could not have started amore happy idea, since you will not take com-fort in mine. Believe her to be deceived, by allmeans. You have now done your duty by her,and must fret no longer.”


“But, my dear sister, can I be happy, evensupposing the best, in accepting a man whosesisters and friends are all wishing him tomarry elsewhere?”

“You must decide for yourself,” said Eliza-beth; “and if, upon mature deliberation, youfind that the misery of disobliging his two sis-ters is more than equivalent to the happinessof being his wife, I advise you by all means torefuse him.”

“How can you talk so?” said Jane, faintlysmiling. “You must know that though I shouldbe exceedingly grieved at their disapproba-tion, I could not hesitate.”

“I did not think you would; and that beingthe case, I cannot consider your situation withmuch compassion.”

“But if he returns no more this winter, mychoice will never be required. A thousandthings may arise in six months!”

The idea of his returning no more Eliza-beth treated with the utmost contempt. It ap-peared to her merely the suggestion of Car-oline’s interested wishes, and she could notfor a moment suppose that those wishes, how-ever openly or artfully spoken, could influencea young man so totally independent of every-one.

She represented to her sister as forciblyas possible what she felt on the subject, andhad soon the pleasure of seeing its happy ef-fect. Jane’s temper was not desponding, andshe was gradually led to hope, though the dif-fidence of affection sometimes overcame thehope, that Bingley would return to Nether-

Chapter 21 171

field and answer every wish of her heart.They agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only

hear of the departure of the family, withoutbeing alarmed on the score of the gentleman’sconduct; but even this partial communicationgave her a great deal of concern, and shebewailed it as exceedingly unlucky that theladies should happen to go away just as theywere all getting so intimate together. Afterlamenting it, however, at some length, shehad the consolation that Mr. Bingley wouldbe soon down again and soon dining at Long-bourn, and the conclusion of all was the com-fortable declaration, that though he had beeninvited only to a family dinner, she would takecare to have two full courses.

Chapter 22

The Bennets were engaged to dine with theLucases and again during the chief of theday was Miss Lucas so kind as to listen toMr. Collins. Elizabeth took an opportunity ofthanking her. “It keeps him in good humour,”said she, “and I am more obliged to you thanI can express.” Charlotte assured her friendof her satisfaction in being useful, and thatit amply repaid her for the little sacrifice ofher time. This was very amiable, but Char-lotte’s kindness extended farther than Eliz-abeth had any conception of; its object wasnothing else than to secure her from any re-turn of Mr. Collins’s addresses, by engagingthem towards herself. Such was Miss Lucas’sscheme; and appearances were so favourable,that when they parted at night, she wouldhave felt almost secure of success if he hadnot been to leave Hertfordshire so very soon.But here she did injustice to the fire and inde-pendence of his character, for it led him to es-cape out of Longbourn House the next morn-ing with admirable slyness, and hasten to Lu-cas Lodge to throw himself at her feet. Hewas anxious to avoid the notice of his cousins,

173


from a conviction that if they saw him depart,they could not fail to conjecture his design,and he was not willing to have the attemptknown till its success might be known like-wise; for though feeling almost secure, andwith reason, for Charlotte had been tolerablyencouraging, he was comparatively diffidentsince the adventure of Wednesday. His recep-tion, however, was of the most flattering kind.Miss Lucas perceived him from an upper win-dow as he walked towards the house, and in-stantly set out to meet him accidentally in thelane. But little had she dared to hope that somuch love and eloquence awaited her there.

In as short a time as Mr. Collins’s longspeeches would allow, everything was settledbetween them to the satisfaction of both; andas they entered the house he earnestly en-treated her to name the day that was to makehim the happiest of men; and though such asolicitation must be waived for the present,the lady felt no inclination to trifle with hishappiness. The stupidity with which he wasfavoured by nature must guard his courtshipfrom any charm that could make a womanwish for its continuance; and Miss Lucas, whoaccepted him solely from the pure and disin-terested desire of an establishment, cared nothow soon that establishment were gained.

Sir William and Lady Lucas were speed-ily applied to for their consent; and it wasbestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr.Collins’s present circumstances made it amost eligible match for their daughter, towhom they could give little fortune; and his

Chapter 22 175

prospects of future wealth were exceedinglyfair. Lady Lucas began directly to calculate,with more interest than the matter had everexcited before, how many years longer Mr.Bennet was likely to live; and Sir Williamgave it as his decided opinion, that when-ever Mr. Collins should be in possession of theLongbourn estate, it would be highly expedi-ent that both he and his wife should maketheir appearance at St. James’s. The wholefamily, in short, were properly overjoyed onthe occasion. The younger girls formed hopesof coming out a year or two sooner than theymight otherwise have done; and the boys wererelieved from their apprehension of Char-lotte’s dying an old maid. Charlotte herselfwas tolerably composed. She had gained herpoint, and had time to consider of it. Herreflections were in general satisfactory. Mr.Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible noragreeable; his society was irksome, and hisattachment to her must be imaginary. Butstill he would be her husband. Without think-ing highly either of men or matrimony, mar-riage had always been her object; it was theonly provision for well-educated young womenof small fortune, and however uncertain ofgiving happiness, must be their pleasantestpreservative from want. This preservative shehad now obtained; and at the age of twenty-seven, without having ever been handsome,she felt all the good luck of it. The least agree-able circumstance in the business was the sur-prise it must occasion to Elizabeth Bennet,whose friendship she valued beyond that of


any other person. Elizabeth would wonder,and probably would blame her; and thoughher resolution was not to be shaken, her feel-ings must be hurt by such a disapprobation.She resolved to give her the information her-self, and therefore charged Mr. Collins, whenhe returned to Longbourn to dinner, to dropno hint of what had passed before any of thefamily. A promise of secrecy was of course verydutifully given, but it could not be kept with-out difficulty; for the curiosity excited by hislong absence burst forth in such very directquestions on his return as required some in-genuity to evade, and he was at the same timeexercising great self-denial, for he was longingto publish his prosperous love.

As he was to begin his journey too early onthe morrow to see any of the family, the cere-mony of leave-taking was performed when theladies moved for the night; and Mrs. Bennet,with great politeness and cordiality, said howhappy they should be to see him at Longbournagain, whenever his engagements might al-low him to visit them.

“My dear madam,” he replied, “this invi-tation is particularly gratifying, because it iswhat I have been hoping to receive; and youmay be very certain that I shall avail myselfof it as soon as possible.”

They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet,who could by no means wish for so speedy areturn, immediately said:

“But is there not danger of Lady Cather-ine’s disapprobation here, my good sir? Youhad better neglect your relations than run the

Chapter 22 177

risk of offending your patroness.”“My dear sir,” replied Mr. Collins,” I am

particularly obliged to you for this friendlycaution, and you may depend upon my nottaking so material a step without her lady-ship’s concurrence.”

“You cannot be too much upon your guard.Risk anything rather than her displeasure;and if you find it likely to be raised by yourcoming to us again, which I should think ex-ceedingly probable, stay quietly at home, andbe satisfied that we shall take no offence.”

“Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude iswarmly excited by such affectionate attention;and depend upon it, you will speedily receivefrom me a letter of thanks for this, and forevery other mark of your regard during mystay in Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins,though my absence may not be long enoughto render it necessary, I shall now take theliberty of wishing them health and happiness,not excepting my cousin Elizabeth.”

With proper civilities the ladies then with-drew; all of them equally surprised thathe meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennetwished to understand by it that he thoughtof paying his addresses to one of her youngergirls, and Mary might have been prevailed onto accept him. She rated his abilities muchhigher than any of the others; there was a so-lidity in his reflections which often struck her,and though by no means so clever as herself,she thought that if encouraged to read andimprove himself by such an example as hers,he might become a very agreeable companion.


But on the following morning, every hope ofthis kind was done away. Miss Lucas calledsoon after breakfast, and in a private confer-ence with Elizabeth related the event of theday before.

The possibility of Mr. Collins’s fancyingherself in love with her friend had once oc-curred to Elizabeth within the last day ortwo; but that Charlotte could encourage himseemed almost as far from possibility as shecould encourage him herself, and her aston-ishment was consequently so great as to over-come at first the bounds of decorum, and shecould not help crying out:

“Engaged to Mr. Collins! My dearCharlotte—impossible!”

The steady countenance which Miss Lucashad commanded in telling her story, gave wayto a momentary confusion here on receivingso direct a reproach; though, as it was no morethan she expected, she soon regained her com-posure, and calmly replied:

“Why should you be surprised, my dearEliza? Do you think it incredible that Mr.Collins should be able to procure any woman’sgood opinion, because he was not so happy asto succeed with you?”

But Elizabeth had now recollected her-self, and making a strong effort for it, wasable to assure with tolerable firmness thatthe prospect of their relationship was highlygrateful to her, and that she wished her allimaginable happiness.

“I see what you are feeling,” replied Char-lotte. “You must be surprised, very much

Chapter 22 179

surprised—so lately as Mr. Collins was wish-ing to marry you. But when you have had timeto think it over, I hope you will be satisfiedwith what I have done. I am not romantic,you know; I never was. I ask only a comfort-able home; and considering Mr. Collins’s char-acter, connection, and situation in life, I amconvinced that my chance of happiness withhim is as fair as most people can boast on en-tering the marriage state.”

Elizabeth quietly answered “Undoubt-edly;” and after an awkward pause, they re-turned to the rest of the family. Charlottedid not stay much longer, and Elizabeth wasthen left to reflect on what she had heard. Itwas a long time before she became at all rec-onciled to the idea of so unsuitable a match.The strangeness of Mr. Collins’s making twooffers of marriage within three days was noth-ing in comparison of his being now accepted.She had always felt that Charlotte’s opinion ofmatrimony was not exactly like her own, butshe had not supposed it to be possible that,when called into action, she would have sac-rificed every better feeling to worldly advan-tage. Charlotte the wife of Mr. Collins wasa most humiliating picture! And to the pangof a friend disgracing herself and sunk in heresteem, was added the distressing convictionthat it was impossible for that friend to be tol-erably happy in the lot she had chosen.

Chapter 23

Elizabeth was sitting with her mother and sis-ters, reflecting on what she had heard, anddoubting whether she was authorised to men-tion it, when Sir William Lucas himself ap-peared, sent by his daughter, to announce herengagement to the family. With many com-pliments to them, and much self-gratulationon the prospect of a connection between thehouses, he unfolded the matter—to an audi-ence not merely wondering, but incredulous;for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance thanpoliteness, protested he must be entirely mis-taken; and Lydia, always unguarded and of-ten uncivil, boisterously exclaimed:

“Good Lord! Sir William, how can youtell such a story? Do not you know that Mr.Collins wants to marry Lizzy?”

Nothing less than the complaisance of acourtier could have borne without anger suchtreatment; but Sir William’s good breedingcarried him through it all; and though hebegged leave to be positive as to the truth ofhis information, he listened to all their imper-tinence with the most forbearing courtesy.

Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to

181


relieve him from so unpleasant a situation,now put herself forward to confirm his ac-count, by mentioning her prior knowledge ofit from Charlotte herself; and endeavoured toput a stop to the exclamations of her motherand sisters by the earnestness of her con-gratulations to Sir William, in which she wasreadily joined by Jane, and by making a vari-ety of remarks on the happiness that might beexpected from the match, the excellent char-acter of Mr. Collins, and the convenient dis-tance of Hunsford from London.

Mrs. Bennet was in fact too much overpow-ered to say a great deal while Sir William re-mained; but no sooner had he left them thanher feelings found a rapid vent. In the firstplace, she persisted in disbelieving the wholeof the matter; secondly, she was very surethat Mr. Collins had been taken in; thirdly,she trusted that they would never be happytogether; and fourthly, that the match mightbe broken off. Two inferences, however, wereplainly deduced from the whole: one, thatElizabeth was the real cause of the mischief;and the other that she herself had been bar-barously misused by them all; and on thesetwo points she principally dwelt during therest of the day. Nothing could console andnothing could appease her. Nor did that daywear out her resentment. A week elapsed be-fore she could see Elizabeth without scoldingher, a month passed away before she couldspeak to Sir William or Lady Lucas withoutbeing rude, and many months were gone be-fore she could at all forgive their daughter.

Chapter 23 183

Mr. Bennet’s emotions were much moretranquil on the occasion, and such as he didexperience he pronounced to be of a mostagreeable sort; for it gratified him, he said, todiscover that Charlotte Lucas, whom he hadbeen used to think tolerably sensible, was asfoolish as his wife, and more foolish than hisdaughter!

Jane confessed herself a little surprised atthe match; but she said less of her astonish-ment than of her earnest desire for their hap-piness; nor could Elizabeth persuade her toconsider it as improbable. Kitty and Lydiawere far from envying Miss Lucas, for Mr.Collins was only a clergyman; and it affectedthem in no other way than as a piece of newsto spread at Meryton.

Lady Lucas could not be insensible of tri-umph on being able to retort on Mrs. Ben-net the comfort of having a daughter wellmarried; and she called at Longbourn ratheroftener than usual to say how happy shewas, though Mrs. Bennet’s sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have been enough todrive happiness away.

Between Elizabeth and Charlotte therewas a restraint which kept them mutuallysilent on the subject; and Elizabeth felt per-suaded that no real confidence could ever sub-sist between them again. Her disappointmentin Charlotte made her turn with fonder re-gard to her sister, of whose rectitude and del-icacy she was sure her opinion could neverbe shaken, and for whose happiness she grewdaily more anxious, as Bingley had now been


gone a week and nothing more was heard ofhis return.

Jane had sent Caroline an early answerto her letter, and was counting the days tillshe might reasonably hope to hear again. Thepromised letter of thanks from Mr. Collins ar-rived on Tuesday, addressed to their father,and written with all the solemnity of grati-tude which a twelvemonth’s abode in the fam-ily might have prompted. After discharginghis conscience on that head, he proceeded toinform them, with many rapturous expres-sions, of his happiness in having obtained theaffection of their amiable neighbour, Miss Lu-cas, and then explained that it was merelywith the view of enjoying her society thathe had been so ready to close with theirkind wish of seeing him again at Longbourn,whither he hoped to be able to return on Mon-day fortnight; for Lady Catherine, he added,so heartily approved his marriage, that shewished it to take place as soon as possible,which he trusted would be an unanswerableargument with his amiable Charlotte to namean early day for making him the happiest ofmen.

Mr. Collins’s return into Hertfordshire wasno longer a matter of pleasure to Mrs. Bennet.On the contrary, she was as much disposed tocomplain of it as her husband. It was verystrange that he should come to Longbourn in-stead of to Lucas Lodge; it was also very in-convenient and exceedingly troublesome. Shehated having visitors in the house while herhealth was so indifferent, and lovers were of

Chapter 23 185

all people the most disagreeable. Such werethe gentle murmurs of Mrs. Bennet, and theygave way only to the greater distress of Mr.Bingley’s continued absence.

Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were comfort-able on this subject. Day after day passedaway without bringing any other tidings ofhim than the report which shortly prevailedin Meryton of his coming no more to Nether-field the whole winter; a report which highlyincensed Mrs. Bennet, and which she neverfailed to contradict as a most scandalous false-hood.

Even Elizabeth began to fear—not thatBingley was indifferent—but that his sisterswould be successful in keeping him away. Un-willing as she was to admit an idea so destruc-tive of Jane’s happiness, and so dishonorableto the stability of her lover, she could not pre-vent its frequently occurring. The united ef-forts of his two unfeeling sisters and of hisoverpowering friend, assisted by the attrac-tions of Miss Darcy and the amusements ofLondon might be too much, she feared, for thestrength of his attachment.

As for Jane, her anxiety under this sus-pense was, of course, more painful than Eliza-beth’s, but whatever she felt she was desirousof concealing, and between herself and Eliza-beth, therefore, the subject was never alludedto. But as no such delicacy restrained hermother, an hour seldom passed in which shedid not talk of Bingley, express her impatiencefor his arrival, or even require Jane to con-fess that if he did not come back she would


think herself very ill used. It needed all Jane’ssteady mildness to bear these attacks with tol-erable tranquillity.

Mr. Collins returned most punctually onMonday fortnight, but his reception at Long-bourn was not quite so gracious as it had beenon his first introduction. He was too happy,however, to need much attention; and luckilyfor the others, the business of love-making re-lieved them from a great deal of his company.The chief of every day was spent by him atLucas Lodge, and he sometimes returned toLongbourn only in time to make an apologyfor his absence before the family went to bed.

Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiablestate. The very mention of anything concern-ing the match threw her into an agony of ill-humour, and wherever she went she was sureof hearing it talked of. The sight of Miss Lu-cas was odious to her. As her successor in thathouse, she regarded her with jealous abhor-rence. Whenever Charlotte came to see them,she concluded her to be anticipating the hourof possession; and whenever she spoke in alow voice to Mr. Collins, was convinced thatthey were talking of the Longbourn estate,and resolving to turn herself and her daugh-ters out of the house, as soon as Mr. Bennetwere dead. She complained bitterly of all thisto her husband.

“Indeed, Mr. Bennet,” said she, “it is veryhard to think that Charlotte Lucas shouldever be mistress of this house, that I shouldbe forced to make way for her, and live to seeher take her place in it!”

Chapter 23 187

“My dear, do not give way to such gloomythoughts. Let us hope for better things. Let usflatter ourselves that I may be the survivor.”

This was not very consoling to Mrs. Ben-net, and therefore, instead of making any an-swer, she went on as before.

“I cannot bear to think that they shouldhave all this estate. If it was not for the en-tail, I should not mind it.”

“What should not you mind?”“I should not mind anything at all.”“Let us be thankful that you are preserved

from a state of such insensibility.”“I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for

anything about the entail. How anyone couldhave the conscience to entail away an estatefrom one’s own daughters, I cannot under-stand; and all for the sake of Mr. Collins too!Why should he have it more than anybodyelse?”

“I leave it to yourself to determine,” saidMr. Bennet.

Chapter 24

Miss Bingley’s letter arrived, and put an endto doubt. The very first sentence conveyed theassurance of their being all settled in Lon-don for the winter, and concluded with herbrother’s regret at not having had time to payhis respects to his friends in Hertfordshire be-fore he left the country.

Hope was over, entirely over; and whenJane could attend to the rest of the letter, shefound little, except the professed affection ofthe 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 increas-ing intimacy, and ventured to predict the ac-complishment of the wishes which had beenunfolded in her former letter. She wrote alsowith great pleasure of her brother’s being aninmate of Mr. Darcy’s house, and mentionedwith raptures some plans of the latter with re-gard to new furniture.

Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon com-municated the chief of all this, heard it insilent indignation. Her heart was divided be-tween concern for her sister, and resentment

189


against all others. To Caroline’s assertion ofher brother’s being partial to Miss Darcy shepaid no credit. That he was really fond ofJane, she doubted no more than she had everdone; and much as she had always been dis-posed to like him, she could not think with-out anger, hardly without contempt, on thateasiness of temper, that want of proper reso-lution, which now made him the slave of hisdesigning friends, and led him to sacrifice ofhis own happiness to the caprice of their in-clination. Had his own happiness, however,been the only sacrifice, he might have beenallowed to sport with it in whatever mannerhe thought best, but her sister’s was involvedin it, as she thought he must be sensible him-self. It was a subject, in short, on which reflec-tion would be long indulged, and must be un-availing. She could think of nothing else; andyet whether Bingley’s regard had really diedaway, or were suppressed by his friends’ inter-ference; whether he had been aware of Jane’sattachment, or whether it had escaped his ob-servation; whatever were the case, though heropinion of him must be materially affected bythe difference, her sister’s situation remainedthe same, her peace equally wounded.

A day or two passed before Jane hadcourage to speak of her feelings to Elizabeth;but at last, on Mrs. Bennet’s leaving themtogether, after a longer irritation than usualabout Netherfield and its master, she couldnot help saying:

“Oh, that my dear mother had more com-mand over herself! She can have no idea of

Chapter 24 191

the pain she gives me by her continual reflec-tions on him. But I will not repine. It cannotlast long. He will be forgot, and we shall all beas we were before.”

Elizabeth looked at her sister with incred-ulous solicitude, but said nothing.

“You doubt me,” cried Jane, slightly colour-ing; “indeed, you have no reason. He may livein my memory as the most amiable man of myacquaintance, but that is all. I have nothingeither to hope or fear, and nothing to reproachhim with. Thank God! I have not that pain. Alittle time, therefore—I shall certainly try toget the better.”

With a stronger voice she soon added, “Ihave this comfort immediately, that it has notbeen more than an error of fancy on my side,and that it has done no harm to anyone butmyself.”

“My dear Jane!” exclaimed Elizabeth, “youare too good. Your sweetness and disinterest-edness are really angelic; I do not know whatto say to you. I feel as if I had never done youjustice, or loved you as you deserve.”

Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all ex-traordinary merit, and threw back the praiseon her sister’s warm affection.

“Nay,” said Elizabeth, “this is not fair. Youwish to think all the world respectable, andare hurt if I speak ill of anybody. I onlywant to think you perfect, and you set your-self against it. Do not be afraid of my runninginto any excess, of my encroaching on yourprivilege of universal good-will. You need not.There are few people whom I really love, and


still fewer of whom I think well. The moreI see of the world, the more am I dissatis-fied with it; and every day confirms my beliefof the inconsistency of all human characters,and of the little dependence that can be placedon the appearance of merit or sense. I havemet with two instances lately, one I will notmention; the other is Charlotte’s marriage. Itis unaccountable! In every view it is unac-countable!”

“My dear Lizzy, do not give way to suchfeelings as these. They will ruin your hap-piness. You do not make allowance enoughfor difference of situation and temper. Con-sider Mr. Collins’s respectability, and Char-lotte’s steady, prudent character. Rememberthat she is one of a large family; that as to for-tune, it is a most eligible match; and be readyto believe, for everybody’s sake, that she mayfeel something like regard and esteem for ourcousin.”

“To oblige you, I would try to believe al-most anything, but no one else could be ben-efited by such a belief as this; for were I per-suaded that Charlotte had any regard for him,I should only think worse of her understand-ing than I now do of her heart. My dear Jane,Mr. Collins is a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man; you know he is, as well asI do; and you must feel, as well as I do, thatthe woman who married him cannot have aproper way of thinking. You shall not defendher, though it is Charlotte Lucas. You shallnot, for the sake of one individual, changethe meaning of principle and integrity, nor en-

Chapter 24 193

deavour to persuade yourself or me, that self-ishness is prudence, and insensibility of dan-ger security for happiness.”

“I must think your language too strong inspeaking of both,” replied Jane; “and I hopeyou will be convinced of it by seeing themhappy together. But enough of this. You al-luded to something else. You mentioned twoinstances. I cannot misunderstand you, butI entreat you, dear Lizzy, not to pain me bythinking that person to blame, and sayingyour opinion of him is sunk. We must not beso ready to fancy ourselves intentionally in-jured. We must not expect a lively young manto be always so guarded and circumspect. Itis very often nothing but our own vanity thatdeceives us. Women fancy admiration meansmore than it does.”

“And men take care that they should.”“If it is designedly done, they cannot be

justified; but I have no idea of there beingso much design in the world as some personsimagine.”

“I am far from attributing any part of Mr.Bingley’s conduct to design,” said Elizabeth;“but without scheming to do wrong, or to makeothers unhappy, there may be error, and theremay be misery. Thoughtlessness, want of at-tention to other people’s feelings, and want ofresolution, will do the business.”

“And do you impute it to either of those?”“Yes; to the last. But if I go on, I shall dis-

please you by saying what I think of personsyou esteem. Stop me whilst you can.”

“You persist, then, in supposing his sisters


influence him?”“Yes, in conjunction with his friend.”“I cannot believe it. Why should they try

to influence him? They can only wish his hap-piness; and if he is attached to me, no otherwoman can secure it.”

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

“Beyond a doubt, they do wish him tochoose Miss Darcy,” replied Jane; “but thismay be from better feelings than you are sup-posing. They have known her much longerthan they have known me; no wonder if theylove her better. But, whatever may be theirown wishes, it is very unlikely they shouldhave opposed their brother’s. What sisterwould think herself at liberty to do it, unlessthere were something very objectionable? Ifthey believed him attached to me, they wouldnot try to part us; if he were so, they couldnot succeed. By supposing such an affection,you make everybody acting unnaturally andwrong, and me most unhappy. Do not distressme by the idea. I am not ashamed of havingbeen mistaken—or, at least, it is light, it isnothing in comparison of what I should feel inthinking ill of him or his sisters. Let me takeit in the best light, in the light in which it maybe understood.”

Elizabeth could not oppose such a wish;and from this time Mr. Bingley’s name was

Chapter 24 195

scarcely ever mentioned between them.Mrs. Bennet still continued to wonder and

repine at his returning no more, and though aday seldom passed in which Elizabeth did notaccount for it clearly, there was little chanceof her ever considering it with less perplexity.Her daughter endeavoured to convince her ofwhat she did not believe herself, that his at-tentions to Jane had been merely the effect ofa common and transient liking, which ceasedwhen he saw her no more; but though theprobability of the statement was admitted atthe time, she had the same story to repeat ev-ery day. Mrs. Bennet’s best comfort was thatMr. Bingley must be down again in the sum-mer.

Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently.“So, Lizzy,” said he one day, “your sister iscrossed in love, I find. I congratulate her. Nextto being married, a girl likes to be crossed alittle in love now and then. It is something tothink of, and it gives her a sort of distinctionamong her companions. When is your turn tocome? You will hardly bear to be long outdoneby Jane. Now is your time. Here are officersenough in Meryton to disappoint all the youngladies in the country. Let Wickham be yourman. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jiltyou creditably.”

“Thank you, sir, but a less agreeable manwould satisfy me. We must not all expectJane’s good fortune.”

“True,” said Mr. Bennet, “but it is a comfortto think that whatever of that kind may befallyou, you have an affectionate mother who will


make the most of it.”Mr. Wickham’s society was of material ser-

vice in dispelling the gloom which the late per-verse occurrences had thrown on many of theLongbourn family. They saw him often, andto his other recommendations was now addedthat of general unreserve. The whole of whatElizabeth had already heard, his claims onMr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered fromhim, was now openly acknowledged and pub-licly canvassed; and everybody was pleased toknow how much they had always disliked Mr.Darcy before they had known anything of thematter.

Miss Bennet was the only creature whocould suppose there might be any extenuat-ing circumstances in the case, unknown to thesociety of Hertfordshire; her mild and steadycandour always pleaded for allowances, andurged the possibility of mistakes—but by ev-erybody else Mr. Darcy was condemned as theworst of men.

Chapter 25

After a week spent in professions of love andschemes of felicity, Mr. Collins was called fromhis amiable Charlotte by the arrival of Satur-day. The pain of separation, however, mightbe alleviated on his side, by preparations forthe reception of his bride; as he had reason tohope, that shortly after his return into Hert-fordshire, the day would be fixed that was tomake him the happiest of men. He took leaveof his relations at Longbourn with as muchsolemnity as before; wished his fair cousinshealth and happiness again, and promisedtheir father another letter of thanks.

On the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet hadthe pleasure of receiving her brother and hiswife, who came as usual to spend the Christ-mas at Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sen-sible, gentlemanlike man, greatly superior tohis sister, as well by nature as education. TheNetherfield ladies would have had difficultyin believing that a man who lived by trade,and within view of his own warehouses, couldhave been so well-bred and agreeable. Mrs.Gardiner, who was several years younger thanMrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips, was an ami-

197


able, intelligent, elegant woman, and a greatfavourite with all her Longbourn nieces. Be-tween the two eldest and herself especially,there subsisted a particular regard. They hadfrequently been staying with her in town.

The first part of Mrs. Gardiner’s businesson her arrival was to distribute her presentsand describe the newest fashions. When thiswas done she had a less active part to play. Itbecame her turn to listen. Mrs. Bennet hadmany grievances to relate, and much to com-plain of. They had all been very ill-used sinceshe last saw her sister. Two of her girls hadbeen upon the point of marriage, and after allthere was nothing in it.

“I do not blame Jane,” she continued, “forJane would have got Mr. Bingley if she could.But Lizzy! Oh, sister! It is very hard to thinkthat she might have been Mr. Collins’s wifeby this time, had it not been for her own per-verseness. He made her an offer in this veryroom, and she refused him. The consequenceof it is, that Lady Lucas will have a daugh-ter married before I have, and that the Long-bourn estate is just as much entailed as ever.The Lucases are very artful people indeed, sis-ter. They are all for what they can get. I amsorry to say it of them, but so it is. It makesme very nervous and poorly, to be thwartedso in my own family, and to have neighbourswho think of themselves before anybody else.However, your coming just at this time is thegreatest of comforts, and I am very glad tohear what you tell us, of long sleeves.”

Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this

Chapter 25 199

news had been given before, in the course ofJane and Elizabeth’s correspondence with her,made her sister a slight answer, and, in com-passion to her nieces, turned the conversation.

When alone with Elizabeth afterwards,she spoke more on the subject. “It seems likelyto have been a desirable match for Jane,” saidshe. “I am sorry it went off. But these thingshappen so often! A young man, such as youdescribe Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in lovewith a pretty girl for a few weeks, and whenaccident separates them, so easily forgets her,that these sort of inconsistencies are very fre-quent.”

“An excellent consolation in its way,” saidElizabeth, “but it will not do for us. We do notsuffer by accident. It does not often happenthat the interference of friends will persuadea young man of independent fortune to thinkno more of a girl whom he was violently in lovewith only a few days before.”

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

“I never saw a more promising inclina-tion; he was growing quite inattentive to otherpeople, and wholly engrossed by her. Everytime they met, it was more decided and re-markable. At his own ball he offended twoor three young ladies, by not asking them todance; and I spoke to him twice myself, with-out receiving an answer. Could there be finer


symptoms? Is not general incivility the veryessence of love?”

“Oh, yes!—of that kind of love which Isuppose him to have felt. Poor Jane! I amsorry for her, because, with her disposition,she may not get over it immediately. It hadbetter have happened to you, Lizzy; you wouldhave laughed yourself out of it sooner. But doyou think she would be prevailed upon to goback with us? Change of scene might be ofservice—and perhaps a little relief from homemay be as useful as anything.”

Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased withthis proposal, and felt persuaded of her sis-ter’s ready acquiescence.

“I hope,” added Mrs. Gardiner, “that noconsideration with regard to this young manwill influence her. We live in so different apart of town, all our connections are so differ-ent, and, as you well know, we go out so lit-tle, that it is very improbable that they shouldmeet at all, unless he really comes to see her.”

“And that is quite impossible; for he is nowin the custody of his friend, and Mr. Darcywould no more suffer him to call on Jane insuch a part of London! My dear aunt, howcould you think of it? Mr. Darcy may perhapshave heard of such a place as GracechurchStreet, but he would hardly think a month’sablution enough to cleanse him from its im-purities, were he once to enter it; and dependupon it, Mr. Bingley never stirs without him.”

“So much the better. I hope they will notmeet at all. But does not Jane correspondwith his sister? She will not be able to help

Chapter 25 201

calling.”“She will drop the acquaintance entirely.”But in spite of the certainty in which Eliz-

abeth affected to place this point, as well asthe still more interesting one of Bingley’s be-ing withheld from seeing Jane, she felt a so-licitude on the subject which convinced her,on examination, that she did not consider itentirely hopeless. It was possible, and some-times she thought it probable, that his affec-tion might be reanimated, and the influence ofhis friends successfully combated by the morenatural influence of Jane’s attractions.

Miss Bennet accepted her aunt’s invitationwith pleasure; and the Bingleys were no oth-erwise in her thoughts at the same time, thanas she hoped by Caroline’s not living in thesame house with her brother, she might oc-casionally spend a morning with her, withoutany danger of seeing him.

The Gardiners stayed a week at Long-bourn; and what with the Phillipses, the Lu-cases, and the officers, there was not a daywithout its engagement. Mrs. Bennet hadso carefully provided for the entertainment ofher brother and sister, that they did not oncesit down to a family dinner. When the en-gagement was for home, some of the officersalways made part of it—of which officers Mr.Wickham was sure to be one; and on theseoccasion, Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspiciousby Elizabeth’s warm commendation, narrowlyobserved them both. Without supposing them,from what she saw, to be very seriously inlove, their preference of each other was plain


enough to make her a little uneasy; and sheresolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subjectbefore she left Hertfordshire, and represent toher the imprudence of encouraging such an at-tachment.

To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had onemeans of affording pleasure, unconnectedwith his general powers. About ten or adozen years ago, before her marriage, she hadspent a considerable time in that very partof Derbyshire to which he belonged. Theyhad, therefore, many acquaintances in com-mon; and though Wickham had been littlethere since the death of Darcy’s father, it wasyet in his power to give her fresher intelli-gence of her former friends than she had beenin the way of procuring.

Mrs. Gardiner had seen Pemberley, andknown the late Mr. Darcy by character per-fectly well. Here consequently was an inex-haustible subject of discourse. In comparingher recollection of Pemberly with the minutedescription which Wickham could give, and inbestowing her tribute of praise on the char-acter of its late possessor, she was delight-ing both him and herself. On being made ac-quainted with the present Mr. Darcy’s treat-ment of him, she tried to remember someof that gentleman’s reputed disposition whenquite a lad which might agree with it, and wasconfident at last that she recollected havingheard Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy formerly spokenof as a very proud, ill-natured boy.

Chapter 26

Mrs. Gardiner’s caution to Elizabeth waspunctually and kindly given on the firstfavourable opportunity of speaking to heralone; after honestly telling her what shethought, she thus went on:

“You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall inlove merely because you are warned againstit; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speakingopenly. Seriously, I would have you be on yourguard. Do not involve yourself or endeavour toinvolve him in an affection which the want offortune would make so very imprudent. I havenothing to say against him; he is a most inter-esting young man; and if he had the fortunehe ought to have, I should think you could notdo better. But as it is, you must not let yourfancy run away with you. You have sense, andwe all expect you to use it. Your father woulddepend on your resolution and good conduct,I am sure. You must not disappoint your fa-ther.”

“My dear aunt, this is being serious in-deed.”

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

203


“Well, then, you need not be under anyalarm. 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;no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond allcomparison, the most agreeable man I eversaw—and if he becomes really attached tome—I believe it will be better that he shouldnot. I see the imprudence of it. Oh! Thatabominable Mr. Darcy! My father’s opinion ofme does me the greatest honour, and I shouldbe miserable to forfeit it. My father, however,is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dearaunt, I should be very sorry to be the meansof making any of you unhappy; but since wesee every day that where there is affection,young people are seldom withheld by immedi-ate want of fortune from entering into engage-ments with each other, how can I promise tobe wiser than so many of my fellow-creaturesif I am tempted, or how am I even to knowthat it would be wisdom to resist? All that Ican promise you, therefore, is not to be in ahurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe my-self his first object. When I am in companywith him, I will not be wishing. In short, Iwill do my best.”

“Perhaps it will be as well if you discour-age his coming here so very often. At least,you should not remind your mother of invit-ing him.”

“As I did the other day,” said Elizabeth

Chapter 26 205

with a conscious smile: “very true, it will bewise in me to refrain from that. But do notimagine that he is always here so often. It ison your account that he has been so frequentlyinvited this week. You know my mother’sideas as to the necessity of constant companyfor her friends. But really, and upon my hon-our, I will try to do what I think to be the wis-est; and now I hope you are satisfied.”

Her aunt assured her that she was, andElizabeth having thanked her for the kind-ness of her hints, they parted; a wonderful in-stance of advice being given on such a point,without being resented.

Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshiresoon after it had been quitted by the Gar-diners and Jane; but as he took up his abodewith the Lucases, his arrival was no great in-convenience to Mrs. Bennet. His marriagewas now fast approaching, and she was atlength so far resigned as to think it inevitable,and even repeatedly to say, in an ill-naturedtone, that she “Wished they might be happy.”Thursday was to be the wedding day, and onWednesday Miss Lucas paid her farewell visit;and when she rose to take leave, Elizabeth,ashamed of her mother’s ungracious and re-luctant good wishes, and sincerely affectedherself, accompanied her out of the room.As they went downstairs together, Charlottesaid:

“I shall depend on hearing from you veryoften, Eliza.”

“That you certainly shall.”“And I have another favour to ask you. Will


you come and see me?”“We shall often meet, I hope, in Hertford-

shire.”“I am not likely to leave Kent for some

time. Promise me, therefore, to come toHunsford.”

Elizabeth could not refuse, though sheforesaw little pleasure in the visit.

“My father and Maria are coming to me inMarch,” added Charlotte, “and I hope you willconsent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, youwill be as welcome as either of them.”

The wedding took place; the bride andbridegroom set off for Kent from the churchdoor, and everybody had as much to say, orto hear, on the subject as usual. Elizabethsoon heard from her friend; and their cor-respondence was as regular and frequent asit had ever been; that it should be equallyunreserved was impossible. Elizabeth couldnever address her without feeling that allthe comfort of intimacy was over, and thoughdetermined not to slacken as a correspon-dent, it was for the sake of what had been,rather than what was. Charlotte’s first let-ters were received with a good deal of ea-gerness; there could not but be curiosity toknow how she would speak of her new home,how she would like Lady Catherine, and howhappy she would dare pronounce herself to be;though, when the letters were read, Elizabethfelt that Charlotte expressed herself on ev-ery point exactly as she might have foreseen.She wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded withcomforts, and mentioned nothing which she

Chapter 26 207

could not praise. The house, furniture, neigh-bourhood, and roads, were all to her taste, andLady Catherine’s behaviour was most friendlyand obliging. It was Mr. Collins’s pictureof Hunsford and Rosings rationally softened;and Elizabeth perceived that she must waitfor her own visit there to know the rest.

Jane had already written a few lines toher sister to announce their safe arrival inLondon; and when she wrote again, Elizabethhoped it would be in her power to say some-thing of the Bingleys.

Her impatience for this second letter wasas well rewarded as impatience generally is.Jane had been a week in town without ei-ther seeing or hearing from Caroline. She ac-counted for it, however, by supposing that herlast letter to her friend from Longbourn hadby some accident been lost.

“My aunt,” she continued, “is going to-morrow into that part of the town, and I shalltake the opportunity of calling in GrosvenorStreet.”

She wrote again when the visit was paid,and she had seen Miss Bingley.

“I did not think Caroline in spir-its,” were her words, “but she wasvery glad to see me, and reproachedme for giving her no notice of mycoming to London. I was right,therefore, my last letter had neverreached her. I inquired after theirbrother, of course. He was well, butso much engaged with Mr. Darcy


that they scarcely ever saw him.I found that Miss Darcy was ex-pected to dinner. I wish I couldsee her. My visit was not long, asCaroline and Mrs. Hurst were go-ing out. I dare say I shall see themsoon here.”

Elizabeth shook her head over this letter. Itconvinced her that accident only could dis-cover to Mr. Bingley her sister’s being in town.

Four weeks passed away, and Jane sawnothing of him. She endeavoured to persuadeherself that she did not regret it; but she couldno longer be blind to Miss Bingley’s inatten-tion. After waiting at home every morningfor a fortnight, and inventing every eveninga fresh excuse for her, the visitor did at lastappear; but the shortness of her stay, and yetmore, the alteration of her manner would al-low Jane to deceive herself no longer. The let-ter which she wrote on this occasion to her sis-ter will prove what she felt.

“My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure,be incapable of triumphing in herbetter judgement, at my expense,when I confess myself to have beenentirely deceived in Miss Bingley’sregard for me. But, my dear sister,though the event has proved youright, do not think me obstinate ifI still assert that, considering whather behaviour was, my confidencewas as natural as your suspicion. I

Chapter 26 209

do not at all comprehend her rea-son for wishing to be intimate withme; but if the same circumstanceswere to happen again, I am sure Ishould be deceived again. Carolinedid not return my visit till yester-day; and not a note, not a line, didI receive in the meantime. Whenshe did come, it was very evidentthat she had no pleasure in it; shemade a slight, formal apology, fornot calling before, said not a wordof wishing to see me again, and wasin every respect so altered a crea-ture, that when she went away Iwas perfectly resolved to continuethe acquaintance no longer. I pity,though I cannot help blaming her.She was very wrong in singling meout as she did; I can safely say thatevery advance to intimacy began onher side. But I pity her, because shemust feel that she has been actingwrong, and because I am very surethat anxiety for her brother is thecause of it. I need not explain my-self farther; and though we knowthis anxiety to be quite needless,yet if she feels it, it will easily ac-count for her behaviour to me; andso deservedly dear as he is to hissister, whatever anxiety she mustfeel on his behalf is natural andamiable. I cannot but wonder, how-ever, at her having any such fears


now, because, if he had at all caredabout me, we must have met, longago. He knows of my being in town,I am certain, from something shesaid herself; and yet it would seem,by her manner of talking, as if shewanted to persuade herself that heis really partial to Miss Darcy. Icannot understand it. If I were notafraid of judging harshly, I shouldbe almost tempted to say that thereis a strong appearance of duplicityin all this. But I will endeavour tobanish every painful thought, andthink only of what will make mehappy—your affection, and the in-variable kindness of my dear un-cle and aunt. Let me hear fromyou very soon. Miss Bingley saidsomething of his never returning toNetherfield again, of giving up thehouse, but not with any certainty.We had better not mention it. I amextremely glad that you have suchpleasant accounts from our friendsat Hunsford. Pray go to see them,with Sir William and Maria. I amsure you will be very comfortablethere.—Yours, etc.”

This letter gave Elizabeth some pain; but herspirits returned as she considered that Janewould no longer be duped, by the sister atleast. All expectation from the brother wasnow absolutely over. She would not even wish

Chapter 26 211

for a renewal of his attentions. His charac-ter sunk on every review of it; and as a pun-ishment for him, as well as a possible advan-tage to Jane, she seriously hoped he might re-ally soon marry Mr. Darcy’s sister, as by Wick-ham’s account, she would make him abun-dantly regret what he had thrown away.

Mrs. Gardiner about this time remindedElizabeth of her promise concerning that gen-tleman, and required information; and Eliz-abeth had such to send as might rather givecontentment to her aunt than to herself. Hisapparent partiality had subsided, his atten-tions were over, he was the admirer of someone else. Elizabeth was watchful enough tosee it all, but she could see it and write of itwithout material pain. Her heart had beenbut slightly touched, and her vanity was sat-isfied with believing that she would have beenhis only choice, had fortune permitted it. Thesudden acquisition of ten thousand poundswas the most remarkable charm of the younglady to whom he was now rendering himselfagreeable; but Elizabeth, less clear-sightedperhaps in this case than in Charlotte’s, didnot quarrel with him for his wish of indepen-dence. Nothing, on the contrary, could be morenatural; and while able to suppose that it costhim a few struggles to relinquish her, she wasready to allow it a wise and desirable mea-sure for both, and could very sincerely wishhim happy.

All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gar-diner; and after relating the circumstances,she thus went on: “I am now convinced, my


dear aunt, that I have never been much inlove; for had I really experienced that pureand elevating passion, I should at present de-test his very name, and wish him all mannerof evil. But my feelings are not only cordialtowards him; they are even impartial towardsMiss King. I cannot find out that I hate herat all, or that I am in the least unwilling tothink her a very good sort of girl. There canbe no love in all this. My watchfulness hasbeen effectual; and though I certainly shouldbe a more interesting object to all my acquain-tances were I distractedly in love with him, Icannot say that I regret my comparative in-significance. Importance may sometimes bepurchased too dearly. Kitty and Lydia takehis defection much more to heart than I do.They are young in the ways of the world, andnot yet open to the mortifying conviction thathandsome young men must have something tolive on as well as the plain.”

Chapter 27

With no greater events than these in theLongbourn family, and otherwise diversifiedby little beyond the walks to Meryton, some-times dirty and sometimes cold, did Januaryand February pass away. March was to takeElizabeth to Hunsford. She had not at firstthought very seriously of going thither; butCharlotte, she soon found, was depending onthe plan and she gradually learned to considerit herself with greater pleasure as well asgreater certainty. Absence had increased herdesire of seeing Charlotte again, and weak-ened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There wasnovelty in the scheme, and as, with sucha mother and such uncompanionable sisters,home could not be faultless, a little changewas not unwelcome for its own sake. Thejourney would moreover give her a peep atJane; and, in short, as the time drew near, shewould have been very sorry for any delay. Ev-erything, however, went on smoothly, and wasfinally settled according to Charlotte’s firstsketch. She was to accompany Sir Williamand his second daughter. The improvementof spending a night in London was added in

213


time, and the plan became perfect as plancould be.

The only pain was in leaving her father,who would certainly miss her, and who, whenit came to the point, so little liked her going,that he told her to write to him, and almostpromised to answer her letter.

The farewell between herself and Mr.Wickham was perfectly friendly; on his sideeven more. His present pursuit could notmake him forget that Elizabeth had been thefirst to excite and to deserve his attention,the first to listen and to pity, the first to beadmired; and in his manner of bidding heradieu, wishing her every enjoyment, remind-ing her of what she was to expect in LadyCatherine de Bourgh, and trusting their opin-ion of her—their opinion of everybody—wouldalways coincide, there was a solicitude, an in-terest which she felt must ever attach herto him with a most sincere regard; and sheparted from him convinced that, whethermarried or single, he must always be hermodel of the amiable and pleasing.

Her fellow-travellers the next day were notof a kind to make her think him less agree-able. Sir William Lucas, and his daughterMaria, a good-humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say thatcould be worth hearing, and were listened towith about as much delight as the rattle of thechaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but shehad known Sir William’s too long. He couldtell her nothing new of the wonders of his pre-sentation and knighthood; and his civilities

Chapter 27 215

were worn out, like his information.It was a journey of only twenty-four miles,

and they began it so early as to be inGracechurch Street by noon. As they drove toMr. Gardiner’s door, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival; whenthey entered the passage she was there to wel-come them, and Elizabeth, looking earnestlyin her face, was pleased to see it healthful andlovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop oflittle boys and girls, whose eagerness for theircousin’s appearance would not allow them towait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness,as they had not seen her for a twelvemonth,prevented their coming lower. All was joy andkindness. The day passed most pleasantlyaway; the morning in bustle and shopping,and the evening at one of the theatres.

Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt.Their first object was her sister; and she wasmore grieved than astonished to hear, in re-ply to her minute inquiries, that though Janealways struggled to support her spirits, therewere periods of dejection. It was reasonable,however, to hope that they would not continuelong. Mrs. Gardiner gave her the particularsalso of Miss Bingley’s visit in GracechurchStreet, and repeated conversations occurringat different times between Jane and herself,which proved that the former had, from herheart, given up the acquaintance.

Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece onWickham’s desertion, and complimented heron bearing it so well.

“But my dear Elizabeth,” she added, “what


sort of girl is Miss King? I should be sorry tothink our friend mercenary.”

“Pray, my dear aunt, what is the differencein matrimonial affairs, between the merce-nary and the prudent motive? Where does dis-cretion end, and avarice begin? Last Christ-mas you were afraid of his marrying me, be-cause it would be imprudent; and now, be-cause he is trying to get a girl with only tenthousand pounds, you want to find out that heis mercenary.”

“If you will only tell me what sort of girlMiss King is, I shall know what to think.”

“She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. Iknow no harm of her.”

“But he paid her not the smallest attentiontill her grandfather’s death made her mistressof this fortune.”

“No—what should he? If it were not allow-able for him to gain my affections because Ihad no money, what occasion could there befor making love to a girl whom he did not careabout, and who was equally poor?”

“But there seems an indelicacy in directinghis attentions towards her so soon after thisevent.”

“A man in distressed circumstances hasnot time for all those elegant decorums whichother people may observe. If she does not ob-ject to it, why should we?”

“Her not objecting does not justify him. Itonly shows her being deficient in somethingherself—sense or feeling.”

“Well,” cried Elizabeth, “have it as youchoose. He shall be mercenary, and she shall

Chapter 27 217

be foolish.”“No, Lizzy, that is what I do not choose.

I should be sorry, you know, to think ill ofa young man who has lived so long in Der-byshire.”

“Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opin-ion of young men who live in Derbyshire; andtheir intimate friends who live in Hertford-shire are not much better. I am sick of themall. Thank Heaven! I am going to-morrowwhere I shall find a man who has not oneagreeable quality, who has neither mannernor sense to recommend him. Stupid men arethe only ones worth knowing, after all.”

“Take care, Lizzy; that speech savoursstrongly of disappointment.”

Before they were separated by the conclu-sion of the play, she had the unexpected hap-piness of an invitation to accompany her uncleand aunt in a tour of pleasure which they pro-posed taking in the summer.

“We have not determined how far it shallcarry us,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “but, perhaps,to the Lakes.”

No scheme could have been more agree-able to Elizabeth, and her acceptance of theinvitation was most ready and grateful. “Oh,my dear, dear aunt,” she rapturously cried,“what delight! what felicity! You give me freshlife and vigour. Adieu to disappointment andspleen. What are young men to rocks andmountains? Oh! what hours of transport weshall spend! And when we do return, it shallnot be like other travellers, without being ableto give one accurate idea of anything. We


will know where we have gone—we will rec-ollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains,and rivers shall not be jumbled together inour imaginations; nor when we attempt todescribe any particular scene, will we beginquarreling about its relative situation. Letour first effusions be less insupportable thanthose of the generality of travellers.”

Chapter 28

Every object in the next day’s journey was newand interesting to Elizabeth; and her spiritswere in a state of enjoyment; for she had seenher sister looking so well as to banish all fearfor her health, and the prospect of her north-ern tour was a constant source of delight.

When they left the high road for the lane toHunsford, every eye was in search of the Par-sonage, and every turning expected to bringit in view. The palings of Rosings Park wastheir boundary on one side. Elizabeth smiledat the recollection of all that she had heard ofits inhabitants.

At length the Parsonage was discernible.The garden sloping to the road, the housestanding in it, the green pales, and the lau-rel hedge, everything declared they were ar-riving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte appearedat the door, and the carriage stopped at thesmall gate which led by a short gravel walkto the house, amidst the nods and smiles ofthe whole party. In a moment they were allout of the chaise, rejoicing at the sight ofeach other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friendwith the liveliest pleasure, and Elizabeth was

219


more and more satisfied with coming whenshe found herself so affectionately received.She saw instantly that her cousin’s mannerswere not altered by his marriage; his formalcivility was just what it had been, and he de-tained her some minutes at the gate to hearand satisfy his inquiries after all her fam-ily. They were then, with no other delay thanhis pointing out the neatness of the entrance,taken into the house; and as soon as theywere in the parlour, he welcomed them a sec-ond time, with ostentatious formality to hishumble abode, and punctually repeated all hiswife’s offers of refreshment.

Elizabeth was prepared to see him in hisglory; and she could not help in fancying thatin displaying the good proportion of the room,its aspect and its furniture, he addressed him-self particularly to her, as if wishing to makeher feel what she had lost in refusing him.But though everything seemed neat and com-fortable, she was not able to gratify him byany sigh of repentance, and rather lookedwith wonder at her friend that she could haveso cheerful an air with such a companion.When Mr. Collins said anything of which hiswife might reasonably be ashamed, which cer-tainly was not unseldom, she involuntarilyturned her eye on Charlotte. Once or twiceshe could discern a faint blush; but in gen-eral Charlotte wisely did not hear. After sit-ting long enough to admire every article offurniture in the room, from the sideboard tothe fender, to give an account of their jour-ney, and of all that had happened in London,

Chapter 28 221

Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in thegarden, which was large and well laid out,and to the cultivation of which he attendedhimself. To work in this garden was oneof his most respectable pleasures; and Eliz-abeth admired the command of countenancewith which Charlotte talked of the healthful-ness of the exercise, and owned she encour-aged it as much as possible. Here, leading theway through every walk and cross walk, andscarcely allowing them an interval to utter thepraises he asked for, every view was pointedout with a minuteness which left beauty en-tirely behind. He could number the fields inevery direction, and could tell how many tressthere were in the most distant clump. But ofall the views which his garden, or which thecountry or kingdom could boast, none wereto be compared with the prospect of Rosings,afforded by an opening in the trees that bor-dered the park nearly opposite the front of hishouse. It was a handsome modern building,well situated on rising ground.

From his garden, Mr. Collins would haveled them round his two meadows; but theladies, not having shoes to encounter the re-mains of a white frost, turned back; andwhile Sir William accompanied him, Char-lotte took her sister and friend over the house,extremely well pleased, probably, to have theopportunity of showing it without her hus-band’s help. It was rather small, but wellbuilt and convenient; and everything was fit-ted up and arranged with a neatness and con-sistency of which Elizabeth gave Charlotte all


the credit. When Mr. Collins could be forgot-ten, there was really an air of great comfortthroughout, and by Charlotte’s evident enjoy-ment of it, Elizabeth supposed he must be of-ten forgotten.

She had already learnt that Lady Cather-ine was still in the country. It was spokenof again while they were at dinner, when Mr.Collins joining in, observed:

“Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have thehonour of seeing Lady Catherine de Bourghon the ensuing Sunday at church, and I neednot say you will be delighted with her. She isall affability and condescension, and I doubtnot but you will be honoured with some por-tion of her notice when service is over. I havescarcely any hesitation in saying she will in-clude you and my sister Maria in every invi-tation with which she honours us during yourstay here. Her behaviour to my dear Char-lotte is charming. We dine at Rosings twiceevery week, and are never allowed to walkhome. Her ladyship’s carriage is regularly or-dered for us. I should say, one of her ladyship’scarriages, for she has several.”

“Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sen-sible woman indeed,” added Charlotte, “and amost attentive neighbour.”

“Very true, my dear, that is exactly what Isay. She is the sort of woman whom one can-not regard with too much deference.”

The evening was spent chiefly in talkingover Hertfordshire news, and telling againwhat had already been written; and when itclosed, Elizabeth, in the solitude of her cham-

Chapter 28 223

ber, had to meditate upon Charlotte’s degreeof contentment, to understand her address inguiding, and composure in bearing with, herhusband, and to acknowledge that it was alldone very well. She had also to anticipate howher visit would pass, the quiet tenor of theirusual employments, the vexatious interrup-tions of Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of theirintercourse with Rosings. A lively imagina-tion soon settled it all.

About the middle of the next day, as shewas in her room getting ready for a walk, asudden noise below seemed to speak the wholehouse in confusion; and, after listening a mo-ment, she heard somebody running upstairsin a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her.She opened the door and met Maria in thelanding place, who, breathless with agitation,cried out—

“Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste andcome into the dining-room, for there is such asight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is.Make haste, and come down this moment.”

Elizabeth asked questions in vain; Mariawould tell her nothing more, and down theyran into the dining-room, which fronted thelane, in quest of this wonder; It was two ladiesstopping in a low phaeton at the garden gate.

“And is this all?” cried Elizabeth. “I ex-pected at least that the pigs were got into thegarden, and here is nothing but Lady Cather-ine and her daughter.”

“La! my dear,” said Maria, quite shocked atthe mistake, “it is not Lady Catherine. The oldlady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them;


the other is Miss de Bourgh. Only look at her.She is quite a little creature. Who would havethought that she could be so thin and small?”

“She is abominably rude to keep Charlotteout of doors in all this wind. Why does she notcome in?”

“Oh, Charlotte says she hardly ever does.It is the greatest of favours when Miss deBourgh comes in.”

“I like her appearance,” said Elizabeth,struck with other ideas. “She looks sickly andcross. Yes, she will do for him very well. Shewill make him a very proper wife.”

Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both stand-ing at the gate in conversation with the ladies;and Sir William, to Elizabeth’s high diversion,was stationed in the doorway, in earnest con-templation of the greatness before him, andconstantly bowing whenever Miss de Bourghlooked that way.

At length there was nothing more to besaid; the ladies drove on, and the others re-turned into the house. Mr. Collins no soonersaw the two girls than he began to congratu-late them on their good fortune, which Char-lotte explained by letting them know that thewhole party was asked to dine at Rosings thenext day.

Chapter 29

Mr. Collins’s triumph, in consequence of thisinvitation, was complete. The power of dis-playing the grandeur of his patroness to hiswondering visitors, and of letting them seeher civility towards himself and his wife, wasexactly what he had wished for; and that anopportunity of doing it should be given sosoon, was such an instance of Lady Cather-ine’s condescension, as he knew not how to ad-mire enough.

“I confess,” said he, “that I should not havebeen at all surprised by her ladyship’s ask-ing us on Sunday to drink tea and spend theevening at Rosings. I rather expected, frommy knowledge of her affability, that it wouldhappen. But who could have foreseen suchan attention as this? Who could have imag-ined that we should receive an invitation todine there (an invitation, moreover, includingthe whole party) so immediately after your ar-rival!”

“I am the less surprised at what has hap-pened,” replied Sir William, “from that knowl-edge of what the manners of the great reallyare, which my situation in life has allowed me

225


to acquire. About the court, such instances ofelegant breeding are not uncommon.”

Scarcely anything was talked of the wholeday or next morning but their visit to Ros-ings. Mr. Collins was carefully instructingthem in what they were to expect, that thesight of such rooms, so many servants, and sosplendid a dinner, might not wholly overpowerthem.

When the ladies were separating for thetoilette, he said to Elizabeth—

“Do not make yourself uneasy, my dearcousin, about your apparel. Lady Catherineis far from requiring that elegance of dress inus which becomes herself and her daughter.I would advise you merely to put on whateverof your clothes is superior to the rest—there isno occasion for anything more. Lady Cather-ine will not think the worse of you for beingsimply dressed. She likes to have the distinc-tion of rank preserved.”

While they were dressing, he came two orthree times to their different doors, to recom-mend their being quick, as Lady Catherinevery much objected to be kept waiting for herdinner. Such formidable accounts of her lady-ship, and her manner of living, quite fright-ened Maria Lucas who had been little usedto company, and she looked forward to her in-troduction at Rosings with as much apprehen-sion as her father had done to his presentationat St. James’s.

As the weather was fine, they had a pleas-ant walk of about half a mile across the park.Every park has its beauty and its prospects;

Chapter 29 227

and Elizabeth saw much to be pleased with,though she could not be in such raptures asMr. Collins expected the scene to inspire, andwas but slightly affected by his enumerationof the windows in front of the house, and hisrelation of what the glazing altogether hadoriginally cost Sir Lewis de Bourgh.

When they ascended the steps to the hall,Maria’s alarm was every moment increasing,and even Sir William did not look perfectlycalm. Elizabeth’s courage did not fail her.She had heard nothing of Lady Catherine thatspoke her awful from any extraordinary tal-ents or miraculous virtue, and the mere state-liness of money or rank she thought she couldwitness without trepidation.

From the entrance-hall, of which Mr.Collins pointed out, with a rapturous air, thefine proportion and the finished ornaments,they followed the servants through an ante-chamber, to the room where Lady Catherine,her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson were sit-ting. Her ladyship, with great condescension,arose to receive them; and as Mrs. Collinshad settled it with her husband that the of-fice of introduction should be hers, it was per-formed in a proper manner, without any ofthose apologies and thanks which he wouldhave thought necessary.

In spite of having been at St. James’sSir William was so completely awed by thegrandeur surrounding him, that he had butjust courage enough to make a very low bow,and take his seat without saying a word; andhis daughter, frightened almost out of her


senses, sat on the edge of her chair, not know-ing which way to look. Elizabeth found her-self quite equal to the scene, and could ob-serve the three ladies before her composedly.Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, withstrongly-marked features, which might oncehave been handsome. Her air was not concil-iating, nor was her manner of receiving themsuch as to make her visitors forget their infe-rior rank. She was not rendered formidableby silence; but whatever she said was spokenin so authoritative a tone, as marked her self-importance, and brought Mr. Wickham imme-diately to Elizabeth’s mind; and from the ob-servation of the day altogether, she believedLady Catherine to be exactly what he repre-sented.

When, after examining the mother, inwhose countenance and deportment she soonfound some resemblance of Mr. Darcy, sheturned her eyes on the daughter, she could al-most have joined in Maria’s astonishment ather being so thin and so small. There was nei-ther in figure nor face any likeness betweenthe ladies. Miss de Bourgh was pale andsickly; her features, though not plain, wereinsignificant; and she spoke very little, exceptin a low voice, to Mrs. Jenkinson, in whose ap-pearance there was nothing remarkable, andwho was entirely engaged in listening to whatshe said, and placing a screen in the properdirection before her eyes.

After sitting a few minutes, they were allsent to one of the windows to admire the view,Mr. Collins attending them to point out its

Chapter 29 229

beauties, and Lady Catherine kindly inform-ing them that it was much better worth look-ing at in the summer.

The dinner was exceedingly handsome,and there were all the servants and all the ar-ticles of plate which Mr. Collins had promised;and, as he had likewise foretold, he took hisseat at the bottom of the table, by her lady-ship’s desire, and looked as if he felt that lifecould furnish nothing greater. He carved, andate, and praised with delighted alacrity; andevery dish was commended, first by him andthen by Sir William, who was now enough re-covered to echo whatever his son-in-law said,in a manner which Elizabeth wondered LadyCatherine could bear. But Lady Catherineseemed gratified by their excessive admira-tion, and gave most gracious smiles, espe-cially when any dish on the table proved anovelty to them. The party did not supplymuch conversation. Elizabeth was ready tospeak whenever there was an opening, butshe was seated between Charlotte and Missde Bourgh—the former of whom was engagedin listening to Lady Catherine, and the lattersaid not a word to her all dinner-time. Mrs.Jenkinson was chiefly employed in watchinghow little Miss de Bourgh ate, pressing her totry some other dish, and fearing she was in-disposed. Maria thought speaking out of thequestion, and the gentlemen did nothing buteat and admire.

When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, there was little to be done but to hearLady Catherine talk, which she did without


any intermission till coffee came in, deliver-ing her opinion on every subject in so decisivea manner, as proved that she was not usedto have her judgement controverted. She in-quired into Charlotte’s domestic concerns fa-miliarly and minutely, gave her a great deal ofadvice as to the management of them all; toldher how everything ought to be regulated in sosmall a family as hers, and instructed her asto the care of her cows and her poultry. Eliz-abeth found that nothing was beneath thisgreat lady’s attention, which could furnish herwith an occasion of dictating to others. In theintervals of her discourse with Mrs. Collins,she addressed a variety of questions to Mariaand Elizabeth, but especially to the latter, ofwhose connections she knew the least, andwho she observed to Mrs. Collins was a verygenteel, pretty kind of girl. She asked her,at different times, how many sisters she had,whether they were older or younger than her-self, whether any of them were likely to bemarried, whether they were handsome, wherethey had been educated, what carriage her fa-ther kept, and what had been her mother’smaiden name? Elizabeth felt all the imper-tinence of her questions but answered themvery composedly. Lady Catherine then ob-served,

“Your father’s estate is entailed on Mr.Collins, I think. For your sake,” turning toCharlotte, “I am glad of it; but otherwise I seeno occasion for entailing estates from the fe-male line. It was not thought necessary in SirLewis de Bourgh’s family. Do you play and

Chapter 29 231

sing, Miss Bennet?”“A little.”“Oh! then—some time or other we shall be

happy to hear you. Our instrument is a capi-tal one, probably superior to— You shall try itsome day. Do your sisters play and sing?”

“One of them does.”“Why did not you all learn? You ought all

to have learned. The Miss Webbs all play,and their father has not so good an income asyours. Do you draw?”

“No, not at all.”“What, none of you?”“Not one.”“That is very strange. But I suppose you

had no opportunity. Your mother should havetaken you to town every spring for the benefitof masters.”

“My mother would have had no objection,but my father hates London.”

“Has your governess left you?”“We never had any governess.”“No governess! How was that possible?

Five daughters brought up at home without agoverness! I never heard of such a thing. Yourmother must have been quite a slave to youreducation.”

Elizabeth could hardly help smiling as sheassured her that had not been the case.

“Then, who taught you? who attended toyou? Without a governess, you must havebeen neglected.”

“Compared with some families, I believewe were; but such of us as wished to learnnever wanted the means. We were always en-


couraged to read, and had all the masters thatwere necessary. Those who chose to be idle,certainly might.”

“Aye, no doubt; but that is what a gov-erness will prevent, and if I had known yourmother, I should have advised her most stren-uously to engage one. I always say that noth-ing is to be done in education without steadyand regular instruction, and nobody but a gov-erness can give it. It is wonderful how manyfamilies I have been the means of supplying inthat way. I am always glad to get a young per-son well placed out. Four nieces of Mrs. Jenk-inson are most delightfully situated throughmy means; and it was but the other day thatI recommended another young person, whowas merely accidentally mentioned to me, andthe family are quite delighted with her. Mrs.Collins, did I tell you of Lady Metcalf ’s callingyesterday to thank me? She finds Miss Pope atreasure. ‘Lady Catherine,’ said she, ‘you havegiven me a treasure.’ Are any of your youngersisters out, Miss Bennet?”

“Yes, ma’am, all.”“All! What, all five out at once? Very odd!

And you only the second. The younger onesout before the elder ones are married! Youryounger sisters must be very young?”

“Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. Perhapsshe is full young to be much in company. Butreally, ma’am, I think it would be very hardupon younger sisters, that they should nothave their share of society and amusement,because the elder may not have the means orinclination to marry early. The last-born has

Chapter 29 233

as good a right to the pleasures of youth at thefirst. And to be kept back on such a motive! Ithink it would not be very likely to promotesisterly affection or delicacy of mind.”

“Upon my word,” said her ladyship, “yougive your opinion very decidedly for so younga person. Pray, what is your age?”

“With three younger sisters grown up,”replied Elizabeth, smiling, “your ladyship canhardly expect me to own it.”

Lady Catherine seemed quite astonishedat not receiving a direct answer; and Eliza-beth suspected herself to be the first creaturewho had ever dared to trifle with so much dig-nified impertinence.

“You cannot be more than twenty, I amsure, therefore you need not conceal your age.”

“I am not one-and-twenty.”When the gentlemen had joined them, and

tea was over, the card-tables were placed.Lady Catherine, Sir William, and Mr. andMrs. Collins sat down to quadrille; and asMiss de Bourgh chose to play at cassino, thetwo girls had the honour of assisting Mrs.Jenkinson to make up her party. Their ta-ble was superlatively stupid. Scarcely a syl-lable was uttered that did not relate to thegame, except when Mrs. Jenkinson expressedher fears of Miss de Bourgh’s being too hotor too cold, or having too much or too lit-tle light. A great deal more passed at theother table. Lady Catherine was generallyspeaking—stating the mistakes of the threeothers, or relating some anecdote of herself.Mr. Collins was employed in agreeing to ev-


erything her ladyship said, thanking her forevery fish he won, and apologising if hethought he won too many. Sir William did notsay much. He was storing his memory withanecdotes and noble names.

When Lady Catherine and her daughterhad played as long as they chose, the tableswere broken up, the carriage was offered toMrs. Collins, gratefully accepted and imme-diately ordered. The party then gatheredround the fire to hear Lady Catherine de-termine what weather they were to have onthe morrow. From these instructions theywere summoned by the arrival of the coach;and with many speeches of thankfulness onMr. Collins’s side and as many bows on SirWilliam’s they departed. As soon as they haddriven from the door, Elizabeth was called onby her cousin to give her opinion of all that shehad seen at Rosings, which, for Charlotte’ssake, she made more favourable than it reallywas. But her commendation, though costingher some trouble, could by no means satisfyMr. Collins, and he was very soon obliged totake her ladyship’s praise into his own hands.

Chapter 30

Sir William stayed only a week at Hunsford,but his visit was long enough to convince himof his daughter’s being most comfortably set-tled, and of her possessing such a husbandand such a neighbour as were not often metwith. While Sir William was with them, Mr.Collins devoted his morning to driving himout in his gig, and showing him the country;but when he went away, the whole family re-turned to their usual employments, and Eliz-abeth was thankful to find that they did notsee more of her cousin by the alteration, forthe chief of the time between breakfast anddinner was now passed by him either at workin the garden or in reading and writing, andlooking out of the window in his own book-room, which fronted the road. The room inwhich the ladies sat was backwards. Eliza-beth had at first rather wondered that Char-lotte should not prefer the dining-parlour forcommon use; it was a better sized room, andhad a more pleasant aspect; but she soonsaw that her friend had an excellent reasonfor what she did, for Mr. Collins would un-doubtedly have been much less in his own

235


apartment, had they sat in one equally lively;and she gave Charlotte credit for the arrange-ment.

From the drawing-room they could dis-tinguish nothing in the lane, and were in-debted to Mr. Collins for the knowledge ofwhat carriages went along, and how oftenespecially Miss de Bourgh drove by in herphaeton, which he never failed coming to in-form them of, though it happened almost ev-ery day. She not unfrequently stopped at theParsonage, and had a few minutes’ conversa-tion with Charlotte, but was scarcely ever pre-vailed upon to get out.

Very few days passed in which Mr. Collinsdid not walk to Rosings, and not many inwhich his wife did not think it necessary togo likewise; and till Elizabeth recollected thatthere might be other family livings to be dis-posed of, she could not understand the sac-rifice of so many hours. Now and then theywere honoured with a call from her ladyship,and nothing escaped her observation that waspassing in the room during these visits. Sheexamined into their employments, looked attheir work, and advised them to do it differ-ently; found fault with the arrangement of thefurniture; or detected the housemaid in negli-gence; and if she accepted any refreshment,seemed to do it only for the sake of findingout that Mrs. Collins’s joints of meat were toolarge for her family.

Elizabeth soon perceived, that though thisgreat lady was not in commission of the peaceof the county, she was a most active magis-

Chapter 30 237

trate in her own parish, the minutest concernsof which were carried to her by Mr. Collins;and whenever any of the cottagers were dis-posed to be quarrelsome, discontented, or toopoor, she sallied forth into the village to set-tle their differences, silence their complaints,and scold them into harmony and plenty.

The entertainment of dining at Rosingswas repeated about twice a week; and, al-lowing for the loss of Sir William, and therebeing only one card-table in the evening, ev-ery such entertainment was the counterpartof the first. Their other engagements werefew, as the style of living in the neighbour-hood in general was beyond Mr. Collins’sreach. This, however, was no evil to Eliza-beth, and upon the whole she spent her timecomfortably enough; there were half-hours ofpleasant conversation with Charlotte, and theweather was so fine for the time of year thatshe had often great enjoyment out of doors.Her favourite walk, and where she frequentlywent while the others were calling on LadyCatherine, was along the open grove whichedged that side of the park, where there wasa nice sheltered path, which no one seemed tovalue but herself, and where she felt beyondthe reach of Lady Catherine’s curiosity.

In this quiet way, the first fortnight of hervisit soon passed away. Easter was approach-ing, and the week preceding it was to bringan addition to the family at Rosings, which inso small a circle must be important. Eliza-beth had heard soon after her arrival that Mr.Darcy was expected there in the course of a


few weeks, and though there were not manyof her acquaintances whom she did not pre-fer, his coming would furnish one compara-tively new to look at in their Rosings parties,and she might be amused in seeing how hope-less Miss Bingley’s designs on him were, byhis behaviour to his cousin, for whom he wasevidently destined by Lady Catherine, whotalked of his coming with the greatest satis-faction, spoke of him in terms of the highestadmiration, and seemed almost angry to findthat he had already been frequently seen byMiss Lucas and herself.

His arrival was soon known at the Parson-age; for Mr. Collins was walking the wholemorning within view of the lodges openinginto Hunsford Lane, in order to have the ear-liest assurance of it, and after making his bowas the carriage turned into the Park, hurriedhome with the great intelligence. On the fol-lowing morning he hastened to Rosings to payhis respects. There were two nephews of LadyCatherine to require them, for Mr. Darcy hadbrought with him a Colonel Fitzwilliam, theyounger son of his uncle Lord ——, and, tothe great surprise of all the party, when Mr.Collins returned, the gentlemen accompaniedhim. Charlotte had seen them from her hus-band’s room, crossing the road, and imme-diately running into the other, told the girlswhat an honour they might expect, adding:

“I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece ofcivility. Mr. Darcy would never have come sosoon to wait upon me.”

Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all

Chapter 30 239

right to the compliment, before their approachwas announced by the door-bell, and shortlyafterwards the three gentlemen entered theroom. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who led the way,was about thirty, not handsome, but in personand address most truly the gentleman. Mr.Darcy looked just as he had been used to lookin Hertfordshire—paid his compliments, withhis usual reserve, to Mrs. Collins, and what-ever might be his feelings toward her friend,met her with every appearance of composure.Elizabeth merely curtseyed to him withoutsaying a word.

Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversa-tion directly with the readiness and ease ofa well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly;but his cousin, after having addressed a slightobservation on the house and garden to Mrs.Collins, sat for some time without speaking toanybody. At length, however, his civility wasso far awakened as to inquire of Elizabeth af-ter the health of her family. She answeredhim in the usual way, and after a moment’spause, added:

“My eldest sister has been in town thesethree months. Have you never happened tosee her there?”

She was perfectly sensible that he neverhad; but she wished to see whether he wouldbetray any consciousness of what had passedbetween the Bingleys and Jane, and shethought he looked a little confused as he an-swered that he had never been so fortunateas to meet Miss Bennet. The subject was pur-sued no farther, and the gentlemen soon after-


wards went away.

Chapter 31

Colonel Fitzwilliam’s manners were verymuch admired at the Parsonage, and theladies all felt that he must add consider-ably to the pleasures of their engagementsat Rosings. It was some days, however, be-fore they received any invitation thither—forwhile there were visitors in the house, theycould not be necessary; and it was not tillEaster-day, almost a week after the gentle-men’s arrival, that they were honoured bysuch an attention, and then they were merelyasked on leaving church to come there in theevening. For the last week they had seenvery little of Lady Catherine or her daughter.Colonel Fitzwilliam had called at the Parson-age more than once during the time, but Mr.Darcy they had seen only at church.

The invitation was accepted of course, andat a proper hour they joined the party in LadyCatherine’s drawing-room. Her ladyship re-ceived them civilly, but it was plain that theircompany was by no means so acceptable aswhen she could get nobody else; and she was,in fact, almost engrossed by her nephews,speaking to them, especially to Darcy, much

241


more than to any other person in the room.Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to

see them; anything was a welcome relief tohim at Rosings; and Mrs. Collins’s prettyfriend had moreover caught his fancy verymuch. He now seated himself by her, andtalked so agreeably of Kent and Hertford-shire, of travelling and staying at home, ofnew books and music, that Elizabeth hadnever been half so well entertained in thatroom before; and they conversed with so muchspirit and flow, as to draw the attention ofLady Catherine herself, as well as of Mr.Darcy. His eyes had been soon and repeat-edly turned towards them with a look of cu-riosity; and that her ladyship, after a while,shared the feeling, was more openly acknowl-edged, for she did not scruple to call out:

“What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam?What is it you are talking of? What are youtelling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is.”

“We are speaking of music, madam,” saidhe, when no longer able to avoid a reply.

“Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is ofall subjects my delight. I must have my sharein the conversation if you are speaking of mu-sic. There are few people in England, I sup-pose, who have more true enjoyment of musicthan myself, or a better natural taste. If I hadever learnt, I should have been a great profi-cient. And so would Anne, if her health hadallowed her to apply. I am confident that shewould have performed delightfully. How doesGeorgiana get on, Darcy?”

Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of

Chapter 31 243

his sister’s proficiency.“I am very glad to hear such a good account

of her,” said Lady Catherine; “and pray tellher from me, that she cannot expect to excelif she does not practice a good deal.”

“I assure you, madam,” he replied, “thatshe does not need such advice. She practisesvery constantly.”

“So much the better. It cannot be done toomuch; and when I next write to her, I shallcharge her not to neglect it on any account.I often tell young ladies that no excellence inmusic is to be acquired without constant prac-tice. I have told Miss Bennet several times,that she will never play really well unless shepractises more; and though Mrs. Collins hasno instrument, she is very welcome, as I haveoften told her, to come to Rosings every day,and play on the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkin-son’s room. She would be in nobody’s way, youknow, in that part of the house.”

Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed of hisaunt’s ill-breeding, and made no answer.

When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliamreminded Elizabeth of having promised toplay to him; and she sat down directly to theinstrument. He drew a chair near her. LadyCatherine listened to half a song, and thentalked, as before, to her other nephew; till thelatter walked away from her, and making withhis usual deliberation towards the pianofortestationed himself so as to command a full viewof the fair performer’s countenance. Elizabethsaw what he was doing, and at the first conve-nient pause, turned to him with an arch smile,


and said:“You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by

coming in all this state to hear me? I willnot be alarmed though your sister does play sowell. There is a stubbornness about me thatnever can bear to be frightened at the will ofothers. My courage always rises at every at-tempt to intimidate me.”

“I shall not say you are mistaken,” hereplied, “because you could not really believeme to entertain any design of alarming you;and I have had the pleasure of your acquain-tance long enough to know that you find greatenjoyment in occasionally professing opinionswhich in fact are not your own.”

Elizabeth laughed heartily at this pictureof herself, and said to Colonel Fitzwilliam,“Your cousin will give you a very pretty no-tion of me, and teach you not to believe a wordI say. I am particularly unlucky in meetingwith a person so able to expose my real char-acter, in a part of the world where I had hopedto pass myself off with some degree of credit.Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous inyou to mention all that you knew to my disad-vantage in Hertfordshire—and, give me leaveto say, very impolitic too—for it is provokingme to retaliate, and such things may come outas will shock your relations to hear.”

“I am not afraid of you,” said he, smilingly.“Pray let me hear what you have to ac-

cuse him of,” cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Ishould like to know how he behaves amongstrangers.”

“You shall hear then—but prepare yourself

Chapter 31 245

for something very dreadful. The first timeof my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, youmust know, was at a ball—and at this ball,what do you think he did? He danced onlyfour dances, though gentlemen were scarce;and, to my certain knowledge, more than oneyoung lady was sitting down in want of a part-ner. Mr. Darcy, you cannot deny the fact.”

“I had not at that time the honour of know-ing any lady in the assembly beyond my ownparty.”

“True; and nobody can ever be introducedin a ball-room. Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam,what do I play next? My fingers wait your or-ders.”

“Perhaps,” said Darcy, “I should havejudged better, had I sought an introduction;but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself tostrangers.”

“Shall we ask your cousin the reason ofthis?” said Elizabeth, still addressing ColonelFitzwilliam. “Shall we ask him why a man ofsense and education, and who has lived in theworld, is ill qualified to recommend himself tostrangers?”

“I can answer your question,” saidFitzwilliam, “without applying to him. Itis because he will not give himself thetrouble.”

“I certainly have not the talent which somepeople possess,” said Darcy, “of conversingeasily with those I have never seen before. Icannot catch their tone of conversation, or ap-pear interested in their concerns, as I oftensee done.”


“My fingers,” said Elizabeth, “do not moveover this instrument in the masterly mannerwhich I see so many women’s do. They havenot the same force or rapidity, and do not pro-duce the same expression. But then I have al-ways supposed it to be my own fault—becauseI will not take the trouble of practising. It isnot that I do not believe my fingers as capableas any other woman’s of superior execution.”

Darcy smiled and said, “You are perfectlyright. You have employed your time much bet-ter. No one admitted to the privilege of hear-ing you can think anything wanting. We nei-ther of us perform to strangers.”

Here they were interrupted by LadyCatherine, who called out to know what theywere talking of. Elizabeth immediately beganplaying again. Lady Catherine approached,and, after listening for a few minutes, said toDarcy:

“Miss Bennet would not play at all amissif she practised more, and could have the ad-vantage of a London master. She has a verygood notion of fingering, though her taste isnot equal to Anne’s. Anne would have been adelightful performer, had her health allowedher to learn.”

Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cor-dially he assented to his cousin’s praise; butneither at that moment nor at any other couldshe discern any symptom of love; and from thewhole of his behaviour to Miss de Bourgh shederived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that hemight have been just as likely to marry her,had she been his relation.

Chapter 31 247

Lady Catherine continued her remarks onElizabeth’s performance, mixing with themmany instructions on execution and taste.Elizabeth received them with all the forbear-ance of civility, and, at the request of the gen-tlemen, remained at the instrument till herladyship’s carriage was ready to take them allhome.

Chapter 32

Elizabeth was sitting by herself the nextmorning, and writing to Jane while Mrs.Collins and Maria were gone on business intothe village, when she was startled by a ringat the door, the certain signal of a visitor.As she had heard no carriage, she thought itnot unlikely to be Lady Catherine, and un-der that apprehension was putting away herhalf-finished letter that she might escape allimpertinent questions, when the door opened,and, to her very great surprise, Mr. Darcy, andMr. Darcy only, entered the room.

He seemed astonished too on finding heralone, and apologised for his intrusion by let-ting her know that he had understood all theladies were to be within.

They then sat down, and when her in-quiries after Rosings were made, seemed indanger of sinking into total silence. It wasabsolutely necessary, therefore, to think ofsomething, and in this emergence recollectingwhen she had seen him last in Hertfordshire,and feeling curious to know what he would sayon the subject of their hasty departure, she ob-served:

249


“How very suddenly you all quittedNetherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! It musthave been a most agreeable surprise to Mr.Bingley to see you all after him so soon; for,if I recollect right, he went but the day before.He and his sisters were well, I hope, when youleft London?”

“Perfectly so, I thank you.”She found that she was to receive no other

answer, and, after a short pause added:“I think I have understood that Mr. Bin-

gley has not much idea of ever returning toNetherfield again?”

“I have never heard him say so; but it isprobable that he may spend very little of histime there in the future. He has many friends,and is at a time of life when friends and en-gagements are continually increasing.”

“If he means to be but little at Nether-field, it would be better for the neighbourhoodthat he should give up the place entirely, forthen we might possibly get a settled familythere. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley did not takethe house so much for the convenience of theneighbourhood as for his own, and we mustexpect him to keep it or quit it on the sameprinciple.”

“I should not be surprised,” said Darcy, “ifhe were to give it up as soon as any eligiblepurchase offers.”

Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraidof talking longer of his friend; and, havingnothing else to say, was now determined toleave the trouble of finding a subject to him.

He took the hint, and soon began with,

Chapter 32 251

“This seems a very comfortable house. LadyCatherine, I believe, did a great deal to itwhen Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford.”

“I believe she did—and I am sure she couldnot have bestowed her kindness on a moregrateful object.”

“Mr. Collins appears to be very fortunatein his choice of a wife.”

“Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice inhis having met with one of the very few sen-sible women who would have accepted him, orhave made him happy if they had. My friendhas an excellent understanding—though I amnot certain that I consider her marrying Mr.Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. Sheseems perfectly happy, however, and in a pru-dential light it is certainly a very good matchfor her.”

“It must be very agreeable for her to be set-tled within so easy a distance of her own fam-ily and friends.”

“An easy distance, do you call it? It isnearly fifty miles.”

“And what is fifty miles of good road? Littlemore than half a day’s journey. Yes, I call it avery easy distance.”

“I should never have considered the dis-tance as one of the advantages of the match,”cried Elizabeth. “I should never have saidMrs. Collins was settled near her family.”

“It is a proof of your own attachmentto Hertfordshire. Anything beyond thevery neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose,would appear far.”

As he spoke there was a sort of smile which


Elizabeth fancied she understood; he mustbe supposing her to be thinking of Jane andNetherfield, and she blushed as she answered:

“I do not mean to say that a woman maynot be settled too near her family. The farand the near must be relative, and dependon many varying circumstances. Where thereis fortune to make the expenses of travellingunimportant, distance becomes no evil. Butthat is not the case here. Mr. and Mrs. Collinshave a comfortable income, but not such aone as will allow of frequent journeys—and Iam persuaded my friend would not call her-self near her family under less than half thepresent distance.”

Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towardsher, and said, “You cannot have a right tosuch very strong local attachment. You can-not have been always at Longbourn.”

Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentle-man experienced some change of feeling; hedrew back his chair, took a newspaper fromthe table, and glancing over it, said, in acolder voice:

“Are you pleased with Kent?”A short dialogue on the subject of the

country ensued, on either side calm andconcise—and soon put an end to by the en-trance of Charlotte and her sister, just re-turned from her walk. The tete-a-tete sur-prised them. Mr. Darcy related the mistakewhich had occasioned his intruding on MissBennet, and after sitting a few minutes longerwithout saying much to anybody, went away.

“What can be the meaning of this?” said

Chapter 32 253

Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. “My dear,Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he wouldnever have called us in this familiar way.”

But when Elizabeth told of his silence; itdid not seem very likely, even to Charlotte’swishes, to be the case; and after various con-jectures, they could at last only suppose hisvisit to proceed from the difficulty of findinganything to do, which was the more probablefrom the time of year. All field sports wereover. Within doors there was Lady Cather-ine, books, and a billiard-table, but gentle-men cannot always be within doors; and inthe nearness of the Parsonage, or the pleas-antness of the walk to it, or of the people wholived in it, the two cousins found a tempta-tion from this period of walking thither al-most every day. They called at various timesof the morning, sometimes separately, some-times together, and now and then accompa-nied by their aunt. It was plain to them allthat Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he hadpleasure in their society, a persuasion whichof course recommended him still more; andElizabeth was reminded by her own satisfac-tion in being with him, as well as by his evi-dent admiration of her, of her former favouriteGeorge Wickham; and though, in comparingthem, she saw there was less captivating soft-ness in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s manners, she be-lieved he might have the best informed mind.

But why Mr. Darcy came so often to theParsonage, it was more difficult to under-stand. It could not be for society, as he fre-quently sat there ten minutes together with-


out opening his lips; and when he did speak,it seemed the effect of necessity rather thanof choice—a sacrifice to propriety, not a plea-sure to himself. He seldom appeared reallyanimated. Mrs. Collins knew not what tomake of him. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s occasion-ally laughing at his stupidity, proved that hewas generally different, which her own knowl-edge of him could not have told her; and asshe would liked to have believed this changethe effect of love, and the object of that loveher friend Eliza, she set herself seriously towork to find it out. She watched him when-ever they were at Rosings, and whenever hecame to Hunsford; but without much success.He certainly looked at her friend a great deal,but the expression of that look was disputable.It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she of-ten doubted whether there were much admi-ration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothingbut absence of mind.

She had once or twice suggested to Eliza-beth the possibility of his being partial to her,but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea; andMrs. Collins did not think it right to pressthe subject, from the danger of raising expec-tations which might only end in disappoint-ment; for in her opinion it admitted not ofa doubt, that all her friend’s dislike wouldvanish, if she could suppose him to be in herpower.

In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, shesometimes planned her marrying ColonelFitzwilliam. He was beyond comparison themost pleasant man; he certainly admired

Chapter 32 255

her, and his situation in life was most eligi-ble; but, to counterbalance these advantages,Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage in thechurch, and his cousin could have none at all.

Chapter 33

More than once did Elizabeth, in her ram-ble within the park, unexpectedly meet Mr.Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the mis-chance that should bring him where no oneelse was brought, and, to prevent its ever hap-pening again, took care to inform him at firstthat it was a favourite haunt of hers. How itcould occur a second time, therefore, was veryodd! Yet it did, and even a third. It seemedlike wilful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance,for on these occasions it was not merely a fewformal inquiries and an awkward pause andthen away, but he actually thought it neces-sary to turn back and walk with her. He neversaid a great deal, nor did she give herself thetrouble of talking or of listening much; but itstruck her in the course of their third ren-contre that he was asking some odd uncon-nected questions—about her pleasure in be-ing at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks,and her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins’s hap-piness; and that in speaking of Rosings andher not perfectly understanding the house, heseemed to expect that whenever she came intoKent again she would be staying there too.

257


His words seemed to imply it. Could he haveColonel Fitzwilliam in his thoughts? She sup-posed, if he meant anything, he must meanand allusion to what might arise in that quar-ter. It distressed her a little, and she wasquite glad to find herself at the gate in thepales opposite the Parsonage.

She was engaged one day as she walked,in perusing Jane’s last letter, and dwelling onsome passages which proved that Jane hadnot written in spirits, when, instead of beingagain surprised by Mr. Darcy, she saw on look-ing up that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meetingher. Putting away the letter immediately andforcing a smile, she said:

“I did not know before that you everwalked this way.”

“I have been making the tour of the park,”he replied, “as I generally do every year, andintend to close it with a call at the Parsonage.Are you going much farther?”

“No, I should have turned in a moment.”And accordingly she did turn, and they

walked towards the Parsonage together.“Do you certainly leave Kent on Satur-

day?” said she.“Yes—if Darcy does not put it off again.

But I am at his disposal. He arranges thebusiness just as he pleases.”

“And if not able to please himself in thearrangement, he has at least pleasure in thegreat power of choice. I do not know anybodywho seems more to enjoy the power of doingwhat he likes than Mr. Darcy.”

“He likes to have his own way very well,”

Chapter 33 259

replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. “But so we all do.It is only that he has better means of havingit than many others, because he is rich, andmany others are poor. I speak feelingly. Ayounger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence.”

“In my opinion, the younger son of an earlcan know very little of either. Now seriously,what have you ever known of self-denial anddependence? When have you been preventedby want of money from going wherever youchose, or procuring anything you had a fancyfor?”

“These are home questions—and perhapsI cannot say that I have experienced manyhardships of that nature. But in matters ofgreater weight, I may suffer from want ofmoney. Younger sons cannot marry wherethey like.”

“Unless where they like women of fortune,which I think they very often do.”

“Our habits of expense make us too depen-dent, and there are too many in my rank oflife who can afford to marry without some at-tention to money.”

“Is this,” thought Elizabeth, “meant forme?” and she coloured at the idea; but, recov-ering herself, said in a lively tone, “And pray,what is the usual price of an earl’s youngerson? Unless the elder brother is very sickly,I suppose you would not ask above fifty thou-sand pounds.”

He answered her in the same style, and thesubject dropped. To interrupt a silence whichmight make him fancy her affected with what


had passed, she soon afterwards said:“I imagine your cousin brought you down

with him chiefly for the sake of having some-one at his disposal. I wonder he does notmarry, to secure a lasting convenience of thatkind. But, perhaps, his sister does as well forthe present, and, as she is under his sole care,he may do what he likes with her.”

“No,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “that is anadvantage which he must divide with me. Iam joined with him in the guardianship ofMiss Darcy.”

“Are you indeed? And pray what sort ofguardians do you make? Does your chargegive you much trouble? Young ladies of herage are sometimes a little difficult to manage,and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she maylike to have her own way.”

As she spoke she observed him looking ather earnestly; and the manner in which he im-mediately asked her why she supposed MissDarcy likely to give them any uneasiness, con-vinced her that she had somehow or other gotpretty near the truth. She directly replied:

“You need not be frightened. I never heardany harm of her; and I dare say she is one ofthe most tractable creatures in the world. Sheis a very great favourite with some ladies ofmy acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bin-gley. I think I have heard you say that youknow them.”

“I know them a little. Their brother is apleasant gentlemanlike man—he is a greatfriend of Darcy’s.”

“Oh! yes,” said Elizabeth drily; “Mr. Darcy

Chapter 33 261

is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley, and takesa prodigious deal of care of him.”

“Care of him! Yes, I really believe Darcydoes take care of him in those points wherehe most wants care. From something that hetold me in our journey hither, I have reasonto think Bingley very much indebted to him.But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have noright to suppose that Bingley was the personmeant. It was all conjecture.”

“What is it you mean?”“It is a circumstance which Darcy could not

wish to be generally known, because if it wereto get round to the lady’s family, it would bean unpleasant thing.”

“You may depend upon my not mentioningit.”

“And remember that I have not much rea-son for supposing it to be Bingley. What hetold me was merely this: that he congratu-lated himself on having lately saved a friendfrom the inconveniences of a most imprudentmarriage, but without mentioning names orany other particulars, and I only suspected itto be Bingley from believing him the kind ofyoung man to get into a scrape of that sort,and from knowing them to have been togetherthe whole of last summer.”

“Did Mr. Darcy give you reasons for thisinterference?”

“I understood that there were some verystrong objections against the lady.”

“And what arts did he use to separatethem?”

“He did not talk to me of his own arts,” said


Fitzwilliam, smiling. “He only told me what Ihave now told you.”

Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on,her heart swelling with indignation. Afterwatching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked herwhy she was so thoughtful.

“I am thinking of what you have beentelling me,” said she. “Your cousin’s conductdoes not suit my feelings. Why was he to bethe judge?”

“You are rather disposed to call his inter-ference officious?”

“I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had todecide on the propriety of his friend’s inclina-tion, or why, upon his own judgement alone,he was to determine and direct in what man-ner his friend was to be happy. But,” she con-tinued, recollecting herself, “as we know noneof the particulars, it is not fair to condemnhim. It is not to be supposed that there wasmuch affection in the case.”

“That is not an unnatural surmise,” saidFitzwilliam, “but it is a lessening of the hon-our of my cousin’s triumph very sadly.”

This was spoken jestingly; but it appearedto her so just a picture of Mr. Darcy, thatshe would not trust herself with an answer,and therefore, abruptly changing the conver-sation talked on indifferent matters until theyreached the Parsonage. There, shut into herown room, as soon as their visitor left them,she could think without interruption of allthat she had heard. It was not to be supposedthat any other people could be meant thanthose with whom she was connected. There

Chapter 33 263

could not exist in the world two men overwhom Mr. Darcy could have such boundlessinfluence. That he had been concerned in themeasures taken to separate Bingley and Janeshe had never doubted; but she had always at-tributed to Miss Bingley the principal designand arrangement of them. If his own van-ity, however, did not mislead him, he was thecause, his pride and caprice were the cause, ofall that Jane had suffered, and still continuedto suffer. He had ruined for a while every hopeof happiness for the most affectionate, gener-ous heart in the world; and no one could sayhow lasting an evil he might have inflicted.

“There were some very strong objectionsagainst the lady,” were Colonel Fitzwilliam’swords; and those strong objections probablywere, her having one uncle who was a countryattorney, and another who was in business inLondon.

“To Jane herself,” she exclaimed, “therecould be no possibility of objection; all love-liness and goodness as she is!—her under-standing excellent, her mind improved, andher manners captivating. Neither couldanything be urged against my father, who,though with some peculiarities, has abili-ties Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain, andrespectability which he will probably nevereach.” When she thought of her mother, herconfidence gave way a little; but she would notallow that any objections there had materialweight with Mr. Darcy, whose pride, she wasconvinced, would receive a deeper wound fromthe want of importance in his friend’s connec-


tions, than from their want of sense; and shewas quite decided, at last, that he had beenpartly governed by this worst kind of pride,and partly by the wish of retaining Mr. Bing-ley for his sister.

The agitation and tears which the sub-ject occasioned, brought on a headache; andit grew so much worse towards the evening,that, added to her unwillingness to see Mr.Darcy, it determined her not to attend hercousins to Rosings, where they were engagedto drink tea. Mrs. Collins, seeing that she wasreally unwell, did not press her to go and asmuch as possible prevented her husband frompressing her; but Mr. Collins could not con-ceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine’s be-ing rather displeased by her staying at home.

Chapter 34

When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intend-ing to exasperate herself as much as possibleagainst Mr. Darcy, chose for her employmentthe examination of all the letters which Janehad written to her since her being in Kent.They contained no actual complaint, nor wasthere any revival of past occurrences, or anycommunication of present suffering. But inall, and in almost every line of each, there wasa want of that cheerfulness which had beenused to characterise her style, and which, pro-ceeding from the serenity of a mind at easewith itself and kindly disposed towards ev-eryone, had been scarcely ever clouded. Eliz-abeth noticed every sentence conveying theidea of uneasiness, with an attention whichit had hardly received on the first perusal.Mr. Darcy’s shameful boast of what misery hehad been able to inflict, gave her a keenersense of her sister’s sufferings. It was someconsolation to think that his visit to Rosingswas to end on the day after the next—and,a still greater, that in less than a fortnightshe should herself be with Jane again, and en-abled to contribute to the recovery of her spir-

265


its, by all that affection could do.She could not think of Darcy’s leaving Kent

without remembering that his cousin was togo with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam hadmade it clear that he had no intentions at all,and agreeable as he was, she did not mean tobe unhappy about him.

While settling this point, she was suddenlyroused by the sound of the door-bell, and herspirits were a little fluttered by the idea of itsbeing Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who hadonce before called late in the evening, andmight now come to inquire particularly afterher. But this idea was soon banished, and herspirits were very differently affected, when, toher utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walkinto the room. In an hurried manner he imme-diately began an inquiry after her health, im-puting his visit to a wish of hearing that shewere better. She answered him with cold civil-ity. He sat down for a few moments, and thengetting up, walked about the room. Elizabethwas surprised, but said not a word. After a si-lence of several minutes, he came towards herin an agitated manner, and thus began:

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do.My feelings will not be repressed. You mustallow me to tell you how ardently I admire andlove you.”

Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond ex-pression. She stared, coloured, doubted, andwas silent. This he considered sufficient en-couragement; and the avowal of all that hefelt, and had long felt for her, immediatelyfollowed. He spoke well; but there were feel-

Chapter 34 267

ings besides those of the heart to be detailed;and he was not more eloquent on the subjectof tenderness than of pride. His sense of herinferiority—of its being a degradation—of thefamily obstacles which had always opposedto inclination, were dwelt on with a warmthwhich seemed due to the consequence he waswounding, but was very unlikely to recom-mend his suit.

In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, shecould not be insensible to the compliment ofsuch a man’s affection, and though her inten-tions did not vary for an instant, she was atfirst sorry for the pain he was to receive; till,roused to resentment by his subsequent lan-guage, she lost all compassion in anger. Shetried, however, to compose herself to answerhim with patience, when he should have done.He concluded with representing to her thestrength of that attachment which, in spite ofall his endeavours, he had found impossibleto conquer; and with expressing his hope thatit would now be rewarded by her acceptanceof his hand. As he said this, she could eas-ily see that he had no doubt of a favourableanswer. He spoke of apprehension and anxi-ety, but his countenance expressed real secu-rity. Such a circumstance could only exasper-ate farther, and, when he ceased, the colourrose into her cheeks, and she said:

“In such cases as this, it is, I believe, theestablished mode to express a sense of obli-gation for the sentiments avowed, howeverunequally they may be returned. It is nat-ural that obligation should be felt, and if I


could feel gratitude, I would now thank you.But I cannot—I have never desired your goodopinion, and you have certainly bestowed itmost unwillingly. I am sorry to have occa-sioned pain to anyone. It has been most un-consciously done, however, and I hope will beof short duration. The feelings which, youtell me, have long prevented the acknowledg-ment of your regard, can have little difficultyin overcoming it after this explanation.”

Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against themantelpiece with his eyes fixed on her face,seemed to catch her words with no less re-sentment than surprise. His complexion be-came pale with anger, and the disturbance ofhis mind was visible in every feature. He wasstruggling for the appearance of composure,and would not open his lips till he believedhimself to have attained it. The pause was toElizabeth’s feelings dreadful. At length, witha voice of forced calmness, he said:

“And this is all the reply which I am tohave the honour of expecting! I might, per-haps, wish to be informed why, with so littleendeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. Butit is of small importance.”

“I might as well inquire,” replied she, “whywith so evident a desire of offending and in-sulting me, you chose to tell me that you likedme against your will, against your reason, andeven against your character? Was not thissome excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? ButI have other provocations. You know I have.Had not my feelings decided against you—hadthey been indifferent, or had they even been

Chapter 34 269

favourable, do you think that any considera-tion would tempt me to accept the man whohas been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?”

As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcychanged colour; but the emotion was short,and he listened without attempting to inter-rupt her while she continued:

“I have every reason in the world to thinkill of you. No motive can excuse the unjustand ungenerous part you acted there. Youdare not, you cannot deny, that you have beenthe principal, if not the only means of divid-ing them from each other—of exposing one tothe censure of the world for caprice and in-stability, and the other to its derision for dis-appointed hopes, and involving them both inmisery of the acutest kind.”

She paused, and saw with no slight indig-nation that he was listening with an air whichproved him wholly unmoved by any feeling ofremorse. He even looked at her with a smileof affected incredulity.

“Can you deny that you have done it?” sherepeated.

With assumed tranquillity he then replied:“I have no wish of denying that I did every-thing in my power to separate my friend fromyour sister, or that I rejoice in my success. To-wards him I have been kinder than towardsmyself.”

Elizabeth disdained the appearance ofnoticing this civil reflection, but its meaningdid not escape, nor was it likely to conciliateher.


“But it is not merely this affair,” she con-tinued, “on which my dislike is founded. Longbefore it had taken place my opinion of youwas decided. Your character was unfolded inthe recital which I received many months agofrom Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what canyou have to say? In what imaginary act offriendship can you here defend yourself? orunder what misrepresentation can you hereimpose upon others?”

“You take an eager interest in that gentle-man’s concerns,” said Darcy, in a less tranquiltone, and with a heightened colour.

“Who that knows what his misfortuneshave been, can help feeling an interest inhim?”

“His misfortunes!” repeated Darcy con-temptuously; “yes, his misfortunes have beengreat indeed.”

“And of your infliction,” cried Elizabethwith energy. “You have reduced him tohis present state of poverty—comparativepoverty. You have withheld the advantageswhich you must know to have been designedfor him. You have deprived the best years ofhis life of that independence which was no lesshis due than his desert. You have done allthis! and yet you can treat the mention of hismisfortune with contempt and ridicule.”

“And this,” cried Darcy, as he walked withquick steps across the room, “is your opin-ion of me! This is the estimation in whichyou hold me! I thank you for explaining itso fully. My faults, according to this cal-culation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps,”

Chapter 34 271

added he, stopping in his walk, and turningtowards her, “these offenses might have beenoverlooked, had not your pride been hurt bymy honest confession of the scruples that hadlong prevented my forming any serious de-sign. These bitter accusations might havebeen suppressed, had I, with greater policy,concealed my struggles, and flattered you intothe belief of my being impelled by unqualified,unalloyed inclination; by reason, by reflection,by everything. But disguise of every sort is myabhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelingsI related. They were natural and just. Couldyou expect me to rejoice in the inferiority ofyour connections?—to congratulate myself onthe hope of relations, whose condition in life isso decidedly beneath my own?”

Elizabeth felt herself growing more angryevery moment; yet she tried to the utmost tospeak with composure when she said:

“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you sup-pose that the mode of your declaration af-fected me in any other way, than as it sparedthe concern which I might have felt in refus-ing you, had you behaved in a more gentle-manlike manner.”

She saw him start at this, but he said noth-ing, and she continued:

“You could not have made the offer of yourhand in any possible way that would havetempted me to accept it.”

Again his astonishment was obvious; andhe looked at her with an expression of mingledincredulity and mortification. She went on:

“From the very beginning—from the first


moment, I may almost say—of my acquain-tance with you, your manners, impressingme with the fullest belief of your arrogance,your conceit, and your selfish disdain of thefeelings of others, were such as to form thegroundwork of disapprobation on which suc-ceeding events have built so immovable a dis-like; and I had not known you a month beforeI felt that you were the last man in the worldwhom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”

“You have said quite enough, madam. Iperfectly comprehend your feelings, and havenow only to be ashamed of what my own havebeen. Forgive me for having taken up so muchof your time, and accept my best wishes foryour health and happiness.”

And with these words he hastily left theroom, and Elizabeth heard him the next mo-ment open the front door and quit the house.

The tumult of her mind, was now painfullygreat. She knew not how to support herself,and from actual weakness sat down and criedfor half-an-hour. Her astonishment, as she re-flected on what had passed, was increased byevery review of it. That she should receivean offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy! That heshould have been in love with her for so manymonths! So much in love as to wish to marryher in spite of all the objections which hadmade him prevent his friend’s marrying hersister, and which must appear at least withequal force in his own case—was almost in-credible! It was gratifying to have inspiredunconsciously so strong an affection. Buthis pride, his abominable pride—his shame-

Chapter 34 273

less avowal of what he had done with respectto Jane—his unpardonable assurance in ac-knowledging, though he could not justify it,and the unfeeling manner in which he hadmentioned Mr. Wickham, his cruelty towardswhom he had not attempted to deny, soonovercame the pity which the consideration ofhis attachment had for a moment excited. Shecontinued in very agitated reflections till thesound of Lady Catherine’s carriage made herfeel how unequal she was to encounter Char-lotte’s observation, and hurried her away toher room.

Chapter 35

Elizabeth awoke the next morning to thesame thoughts and meditations which had atlength closed her eyes. She could not yet re-cover from the surprise of what had happened;it was impossible to think of anything else;and, totally indisposed for employment, sheresolved, soon after breakfast, to indulge her-self in air and exercise. She was proceedingdirectly to her favourite walk, when the recol-lection of Mr. Darcy’s sometimes coming therestopped her, and instead of entering the park,she turned up the lane, which led farther fromthe turnpike-road. The park paling was stillthe boundary on one side, and she soon passedone of the gates into the ground.

After walking two or three times alongthat part of the lane, she was tempted, by thepleasantness of the morning, to stop at thegates and look into the park. The five weekswhich she had now passed in Kent had madea great difference in the country, and everyday was adding to the verdure of the earlytrees. She was on the point of continuing herwalk, when she caught a glimpse of a gentle-man within the sort of grove which edged the

275


park; he was moving that way; and, fearfulof its being Mr. Darcy, she was directly re-treating. But the person who advanced wasnow near enough to see her, and stepping for-ward with eagerness, pronounced her name.She had turned away; but on hearing herselfcalled, though in a voice which proved it tobe Mr. Darcy, she moved again towards thegate. He had by that time reached it also, and,holding out a letter, which she instinctivelytook, said, with a look of haughty composure,“I have been walking in the grove some timein the hope of meeting you. Will you do me thehonour of reading that letter?” And then, witha slight bow, turned again into the plantation,and was soon out of sight.

With no expectation of pleasure, but withthe strongest curiosity, Elizabeth opened theletter, and, to her still increasing wonder, per-ceived an envelope containing two sheets ofletter-paper, written quite through, in a veryclose hand. The envelope itself was likewisefull. Pursuing her way along the lane, shethen began it. It was dated from Rosings,at eight o’clock in the morning, and was asfollows:—

“Be not alarmed, madam, on re-ceiving this letter, by the apprehen-sion of its containing any repetitionof those sentiments or renewal ofthose offers which were last nightso disgusting to you. I write with-out any intention of paining you,or humbling myself, by dwelling on

Chapter 35 277

wishes which, for the happiness ofboth, cannot be too soon forgotten;and the effort which the formationand the perusal of this letter mustoccasion, should have been spared,had not my character required itto be written and read. You must,therefore, pardon the freedom withwhich I demand your attention;your feelings, I know, will bestow itunwillingly, but I demand it of yourjustice.

“Two offenses of a very differentnature, and by no means of equalmagnitude, you last night laid tomy charge. The first mentionedwas, that, regardless of the sen-timents of either, I had detachedMr. Bingley from your sister, andthe other, that I had, in defiance ofvarious claims, in defiance of hon-our and humanity, ruined the im-mediate prosperity and blasted theprospects of Mr. Wickham. Wilfullyand wantonly to have thrown offthe companion of my youth, the ac-knowledged favourite of my father,a young man who had scarcely anyother dependence than on our pa-tronage, and who had been broughtup to expect its exertion, would be adepravity, to which the separationof two young persons, whose affec-tion could be the growth of onlya few weeks, could bear no com-


parison. But from the severity ofthat blame which was last night soliberally bestowed, respecting eachcircumstance, I shall hope to be inthe future secured, when the fol-lowing account of my actions andtheir motives has been read. If,in the explanation of them, whichis due to myself, I am under thenecessity of relating feelings whichmay be offensive to yours, I canonly say that I am sorry. The ne-cessity must be obeyed, and furtherapology would be absurd.

“I had not been long in Hert-fordshire, before I saw, in commonwith others, that Bingley preferredyour elder sister to any other youngwoman in the country. But it wasnot till the evening of the danceat Netherfield that I had any ap-prehension of his feeling a seri-ous attachment. I had often seenhim in love before. At that ball,while I had the honour of danc-ing with you, I was first made ac-quainted, by Sir William Lucas’saccidental information, that Bing-ley’s attentions to your sister hadgiven rise to a general expectationof their marriage. He spoke of it asa certain event, of which the timealone could be undecided. Fromthat moment I observed my friend’sbehaviour attentively; and I could

Chapter 35 279

then perceive that his partiality forMiss Bennet was beyond what Ihad ever witnessed in him. Yoursister I also watched. Her lookand manners were open, cheerful,and engaging as ever, but withoutany symptom of peculiar regard,and I remained convinced from theevening’s scrutiny, that though shereceived his attentions with plea-sure, she did not invite them byany participation of sentiment. Ifyou have not been mistaken here,I must have been in error. Yoursuperior knowledge of your sistermust make the latter probable. Ifit be so, if I have been misled bysuch error to inflict pain on her,your resentment has not been un-reasonable. But I shall not scru-ple to assert, that the serenity ofyour sister’s countenance and airwas such as might have given themost acute observer a convictionthat, however amiable her tem-per, her heart was not likely tobe easily touched. That I was de-sirous of believing her indifferentis certain—but I will venture to saythat my investigation and decisionsare not usually influenced by myhopes or fears. I did not believe herto be indifferent because I wishedit; I believed it on impartial con-viction, as truly as I wished it in


reason. My objections to the mar-riage were not merely those whichI last night acknowledged to havethe utmost force of passion to putaside, in my own case; the wantof connection could not be so greatan evil to my friend as to me. Butthere were other causes of repug-nance; causes which, though stillexisting, and existing to an equaldegree in both instances, I had my-self endeavoured to forget, becausethey were not immediately beforeme. These causes must be stated,though briefly. The situation ofyour mother’s family, though objec-tionable, was nothing in compari-son to that total want of proprietyso frequently, so almost uniformlybetrayed by herself, by your threeyounger sisters, and occasionallyeven by your father. Pardon me.It pains me to offend you. Butamidst your concern for the defectsof your nearest relations, and yourdispleasure at this representationof them, let it give you consola-tion to consider that, to have con-ducted yourselves so as to avoidany share of the like censure, ispraise no less generally bestowedon you and your elder sister, thanit is honourable to the sense anddisposition of both. I will onlysay farther that from what passed

Chapter 35 281

that evening, my opinion of all par-ties was confirmed, and every in-ducement heightened which couldhave led me before, to preservemy friend from what I esteemed amost unhappy connection. He leftNetherfield for London, on the dayfollowing, as you, I am certain, re-member, with the design of soon re-turning.

“The part which I acted is nowto be explained. His sisters’ un-easiness had been equally excitedwith my own; our coincidence offeeling was soon discovered, and,alike sensible that no time was tobe lost in detaching their brother,we shortly resolved on joining himdirectly in London. We accord-ingly went—and there I readily en-gaged in the office of pointing outto my friend the certain evils ofsuch a choice. I described, and en-forced them earnestly. But, how-ever this remonstrance might havestaggered or delayed his determi-nation, I do not suppose that itwould ultimately have preventedthe marriage, had it not been sec-onded by the assurance that I hes-itated not in giving, of your sis-ter’s indifference. He had beforebelieved her to return his affectionwith sincere, if not with equal re-gard. But Bingley has great nat-


ural modesty, with a stronger de-pendence on my judgement than onhis own. To convince him, there-fore, that he had deceived himself,was no very difficult point. To per-suade him against returning intoHertfordshire, when that convic-tion had been given, was scarcelythe work of a moment. I cannotblame myself for having done thusmuch. There is but one part ofmy conduct in the whole affair onwhich I do not reflect with satis-faction; it is that I condescendedto adopt the measures of art so faras to conceal from him your sister’sbeing in town. I knew it myself,as it was known to Miss Bingley;but her brother is even yet ignorantof it. That they might have metwithout ill consequence is perhapsprobable; but his regard did not ap-pear to me enough extinguished forhim to see her without some dan-ger. Perhaps this concealment, thisdisguise was beneath me; it is done,however, and it was done for thebest. On this subject I have noth-ing more to say, no other apology tooffer. If I have wounded your sis-ter’s feelings, it was unknowinglydone and though the motives whichgoverned me may to you very natu-rally appear insufficient, I have notyet learnt to condemn them.

Chapter 35 283

“With respect to that other,more weighty accusation, of havinginjured Mr. Wickham, I can onlyrefute it by laying before you thewhole of his connection with myfamily. Of what he has particu-larly accused me I am ignorant; butof the truth of what I shall relate,I can summon more than one wit-ness of undoubted veracity.

“Mr. Wickham is the son of avery respectable man, who had formany years the management of allthe Pemberley estates, and whosegood conduct in the discharge ofhis trust naturally inclined my fa-ther to be of service to him; andon George Wickham, who was hisgodson, his kindness was there-fore liberally bestowed. My fathersupported him at school, and af-terwards at Cambridge—most im-portant assistance, as his own fa-ther, always poor from the extrav-agance of his wife, would havebeen unable to give him a gentle-man’s education. My father wasnot only fond of this young man’ssociety, whose manner were alwaysengaging; he had also the high-est opinion of him, and hoping thechurch would be his profession, in-tended to provide for him in it.As for myself, it is many, manyyears since I first began to think


of him in a very different man-ner. The vicious propensities—thewant of principle, which he wascareful to guard from the knowl-edge of his best friend, could notescape the observation of a youngman of nearly the same age withhimself, and who had opportuni-ties of seeing him in unguarded mo-ments, which Mr. Darcy could nothave. Here again shall give youpain—to what degree you only cantell. But whatever may be the sen-timents which Mr. Wickham hascreated, a suspicion of their natureshall not prevent me from unfold-ing his real character—it adds evenanother motive.

“My excellent father died aboutfive years ago; and his attachmentto Mr. Wickham was to the last sosteady, that in his will he particu-larly recommended it to me, to pro-mote his advancement in the bestmanner that his profession mightallow—and if he took orders, de-sired that a valuable family livingmight be his as soon as it becamevacant. There was also a legacyof one thousand pounds. His ownfather did not long survive mine,and within half a year from theseevents, Mr. Wickham wrote to in-form me that, having finally re-solved against taking orders, he

Chapter 35 285

hoped I should not think it un-reasonable for him to expect somemore immediate pecuniary advan-tage, in lieu of the preferment, bywhich he could not be benefited. Hehad some intention, he added, ofstudying law, and I must be awarethat the interest of one thousandpounds would be a very insufficientsupport therein. I rather wished,than believed him to be sincere;but, at any rate, was perfectlyready to accede to his proposal. Iknew that Mr. Wickham ought notto be a clergyman; the businesswas therefore soon settled—he re-signed all claim to assistance inthe church, were it possible thathe could ever be in a situation toreceive it, and accepted in returnthree thousand pounds. All connec-tion between us seemed now dis-solved. I thought too ill of him to in-vite him to Pemberley, or admit hissociety in town. In town I believehe chiefly lived, but his studyingthe law was a mere pretence, andbeing now free from all restraint,his life was a life of idleness anddissipation. For about three yearsI heard little of him; but on the de-cease of the incumbent of the livingwhich had been designed for him,he applied to me again by letterfor the presentation. His circum-


stances, he assured me, and I hadno difficulty in believing it, wereexceedingly bad. He had found thelaw a most unprofitable study, andwas now absolutely resolved on be-ing ordained, if I would presenthim to the living in question—-ofwhich he trusted there could be lit-tle doubt, as he was well assuredthat I had no other person to pro-vide for, and I could not have for-gotten my revered father’s inten-tions. You will hardly blame mefor refusing to comply with this en-treaty, or for resisting every repe-tition to it. His resentment wasin proportion to the distress of hiscircumstances—and he was doubt-less as violent in his abuse of me toothers as in his reproaches to my-self. After this period every appear-ance of acquaintance was dropped.How he lived I know not. Butlast summer he was again mostpainfully obtruded on my notice.

“I must now mention a circum-stance which I would wish to for-get myself, and which no obliga-tion less than the present shouldinduce me to unfold to any hu-man being. Having said thusmuch, I feel no doubt of your se-crecy. My sister, who is more thanten years my junior, was left tothe guardianship of my mother’s

Chapter 35 287

nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, andmyself. About a year ago, she wastaken from school, and an estab-lishment formed for her in London;and last summer she went withthe lady who presided over it, toRamsgate; and thither also wentMr. Wickham, undoubtedly by de-sign; for there proved to have beena prior acquaintance between himand Mrs. Younge, in whose char-acter we were most unhappily de-ceived; and by her connivance andaid, he so far recommended himselfto Georgiana, whose affectionateheart retained a strong impressionof his kindness to her as a child,that she was persuaded to believeherself in love, and to consent toan elopement. She was then butfifteen, which must be her excuse;and after stating her imprudence, Iam happy to add, that I owed theknowledge of it to herself. I joinedthem unexpectedly a day or two be-fore the intended elopement, andthen Georgiana, unable to supportthe idea of grieving and offendinga brother whom she almost lookedup to as a father, acknowledged thewhole to me. You may imaginewhat I felt and how I acted. Regardfor my sister’s credit and feelingsprevented any public exposure; butI wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left


the place immediately, and Mrs.Younge was of course removed fromher charge. Mr. Wickham’s chiefobject was unquestionably my sis-ter’s fortune, which is thirty thou-sand pounds; but I cannot help sup-posing that the hope of revenginghimself on me was a strong in-ducement. His revenge would havebeen complete indeed.

“This, madam, is a faithful nar-rative of every event in which wehave been concerned together; andif you do not absolutely reject it asfalse, you will, I hope, acquit mehenceforth of cruelty towards Mr.Wickham. I know not in what man-ner, under what form of falsehoodhe had imposed on you; but his suc-cess is not perhaps to be wonderedat. Ignorant as you previously wereof everything concerning either, de-tection could not be in your power,and suspicion certainly not in yourinclination.

“You may possibly wonder whyall this was not told you last night;but I was not then master enoughof myself to know what could orought to be revealed. For thetruth of everything here related, Ican appeal more particularly to thetestimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam,who, from our near relationshipand constant intimacy, and, still

Chapter 35 289

more, as one of the executors of myfather’s will, has been unavoidablyacquainted with every particular ofthese transactions. If your abhor-rence of me should make my asser-tions valueless, you cannot be pre-vented by the same cause from con-fiding in my cousin; and that theremay be the possibility of consultinghim, I shall endeavour to find someopportunity of putting this letterin your hands in the course of themorning. I will only add, God blessyou.”

“FITZWILLIAM DARCY”

Chapter 36

If Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the let-ter, did not expect it to contain a renewal ofhis offers, she had formed no expectation atall of its contents. But such as they were, itmay well be supposed how eagerly she wentthrough them, and what a contrariety of emo-tion they excited. Her feelings as she readwere scarcely to be defined. With amaze-ment did she first understand that he believedany apology to be in his power; and stead-fastly was she persuaded, that he could haveno explanation to give, which a just senseof shame would not conceal. With a strongprejudice against everything he might say,she began his account of what had happenedat Netherfield. She read with an eagernesswhich hardly left her power of comprehen-sion, and from impatience of knowing whatthe next sentence might bring, was incapableof attending to the sense of the one before hereyes. His belief of her sister’s insensibility sheinstantly resolved to be false; and his accountof the real, the worst objections to the match,made her too angry to have any wish of doinghim justice. He expressed no regret for what

291


he had done which satisfied her; his style wasnot penitent, but haughty. It was all pride andinsolence.

But when this subject was succeeded byhis account of Mr. Wickham—when she readwith somewhat clearer attention a relationof events which, if true, must overthrow ev-ery cherished opinion of his worth, and whichbore so alarming an affinity to his own his-tory of himself—her feelings were yet moreacutely painful and more difficult of defini-tion. Astonishment, apprehension, and evenhorror, oppressed her. She wished to dis-credit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, “Thismust be false! This cannot be! This must bethe grossest falsehood!”—and when she hadgone through the whole letter, though scarcelyknowing anything of the last page or two,put it hastily away, protesting that she wouldnot regard it, that she would never look in itagain.

In this perturbed state of mind, withthoughts that could rest on nothing, shewalked on; but it would not do; in half aminute the letter was unfolded again, and col-lecting herself as well as she could, she againbegan the mortifying perusal of all that re-lated to Wickham, and commanded herself sofar as to examine the meaning of every sen-tence. The account of his connection with thePemberley family was exactly what he had re-lated himself; and the kindness of the lateMr. Darcy, though she had not before knownits extent, agreed equally well with his ownwords. So far each recital confirmed the other;

Chapter 36 293

but when she came to the will, the differencewas great. What Wickham had said of the liv-ing was fresh in her memory, and as she re-called his very words, it was impossible notto feel that there was gross duplicity on oneside or the other; and, for a few moments, sheflattered herself that her wishes did not err.But when she read and re-read with the clos-est attention, the particulars immediately fol-lowing of Wickham’s resigning all pretensionsto the living, of his receiving in lieu so consid-erable a sum as three thousand pounds, againwas she forced to hesitate. She put down theletter, weighed every circumstance with whatshe meant to be impartiality—deliberated onthe probability of each statement—but withlittle success. On both sides it was only asser-tion. Again she read on; but every line provedmore clearly that the affair, which she had be-lieved it impossible that any contrivance couldso represent as to render Mr. Darcy’s conductin it less than infamous, was capable of aturn which must make him entirely blamelessthroughout the whole.

The extravagance and general profligacywhich he scrupled not to lay at Mr. Wickham’scharge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so,as she could bring no proof of its injustice. Shehad never heard of him before his entranceinto the ——shire Militia, in which he hadengaged at the persuasion of the young manwho, on meeting him accidentally in town,had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Ofhis former way of life nothing had been knownin Hertfordshire but what he told himself. As


to his real character, had information been inher power, she had never felt a wish of inquir-ing. His countenance, voice, and manner hadestablished him at once in the possession ofevery virtue. She tried to recollect some in-stance of goodness, some distinguished traitof integrity or benevolence, that might rescuehim from the attacks of Mr. Darcy; or at least,by the predominance of virtue, atone for thosecasual errors under which she would endeav-our to class what Mr. Darcy had described asthe idleness and vice of many years’ continu-ance. But no such recollection befriended her.She could see him instantly before her, in ev-ery charm of air and address; but she couldremember no more substantial good than thegeneral approbation of the neighbourhood,and the regard which his social powers hadgained him in the mess. After pausing on thispoint a considerable while, she once more con-tinued to read. But, alas! the story which fol-lowed, of his designs on Miss Darcy, receivedsome confirmation from what had passed be-tween Colonel Fitzwilliam and herself onlythe morning before; and at last she was re-ferred for the truth of every particular toColonel Fitzwilliam himself—from whom shehad previously received the information of hisnear concern in all his cousin’s affairs, andwhose character she had no reason to ques-tion. At one time she had almost resolved onapplying to him, but the idea was checked bythe awkwardness of the application, and atlength wholly banished by the conviction thatMr. Darcy would never have hazarded such a

Chapter 36 295

proposal, if he had not been well assured ofhis cousin’s corroboration.

She perfectly remembered everything thathad passed in conversation between Wick-ham and herself, in their first evening at Mr.Phillips’s. Many of his expressions were stillfresh in her memory. She was now struck withthe impropriety of such communications to astranger, and wondered it had escaped her be-fore. She saw the indelicacy of putting him-self forward as he had done, and the inconsis-tency of his professions with his conduct. Sheremembered that he had boasted of havingno fear of seeing Mr. Darcy—that Mr. Darcymight leave the country, but that he shouldstand his ground; yet he had avoided theNetherfield ball the very next week. She re-membered also that, till the Netherfield fam-ily had quitted the country, he had told hisstory to no one but herself; but that after theirremoval it had been everywhere discussed;that he had then no reserves, no scruples insinking Mr. Darcy’s character, though he hadassured her that respect for the father wouldalways prevent his exposing the son.

How differently did everything now appearin which he was concerned! His attentionsto Miss King were now the consequence ofviews solely and hatefully mercenary; and themediocrity of her fortune proved no longer themoderation of his wishes, but his eagernessto grasp at anything. His behaviour to her-self could now have had no tolerable motive;he had either been deceived with regard toher fortune, or had been gratifying his van-


ity by encouraging the preference which shebelieved she had most incautiously shown.Every lingering struggle in his favour grewfainter and fainter; and in farther justifica-tion of Mr. Darcy, she could not but allow Mr.Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had longago asserted his blamelessness in the affair;that proud and repulsive as were his man-ners, she had never, in the whole course oftheir acquaintance—an acquaintance whichhad latterly brought them much together,and given her a sort of intimacy with hisways—seen anything that betrayed him to beunprincipled or unjust—anything that spokehim of irreligious or immoral habits; thatamong his own connections he was esteemedand valued—that even Wickham had allowedhim merit as a brother, and that she had oftenheard him speak so affectionately of his sisteras to prove him capable of some amiable feel-ing; that had his actions been what Mr. Wick-ham represented them, so gross a violation ofeverything right could hardly have been con-cealed from the world; and that friendship be-tween a person capable of it, and such an ami-able man as Mr. Bingley, was incomprehensi-ble.

She grew absolutely ashamed of herself.Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could shethink without feeling she had been blind, par-tial, prejudiced, absurd.

“How despicably I have acted!” she cried;“I, who have prided myself on my discern-ment! I, who have valued myself on my abil-ities! who have often disdained the generous

Chapter 36 297

candour of my sister, and gratified my vanityin useless or blameable mistrust! How hu-miliating is this discovery! Yet, how just ahumiliation! Had I been in love, I could nothave been more wretchedly blind! But vanity,not love, has been my folly. Pleased with thepreference of one, and offended by the neglectof the other, on the very beginning of our ac-quaintance, I have courted prepossession andignorance, and driven reason away, where ei-ther were concerned. Till this moment I neverknew myself.”

From herself to Jane—from Jane to Bin-gley, her thoughts were in a line which soonbrought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy’sexplanation there had appeared very insuffi-cient, and she read it again. Widely differentwas the effect of a second perusal. How couldshe deny that credit to his assertions in oneinstance, which she had been obliged to givein the other? He declared himself to be totallyunsuspicious of her sister’s attachment; andshe could not help remembering what Char-lotte’s opinion had always been. Neither couldshe deny the justice of his description of Jane.She felt that Jane’s feelings, though fervent,were little displayed, and that there was aconstant complacency in her air and mannernot often united with great sensibility.

When she came to that part of the letterin which her family were mentioned in termsof such mortifying, yet merited reproach, hersense of shame was severe. The justice ofthe charge struck her too forcibly for denial,and the circumstances to which he particu-


larly alluded as having passed at the Nether-field ball, and as confirming all his first dis-approbation, could not have made a strongerimpression on his mind than on hers.

The compliment to herself and her sisterwas not unfelt. It soothed, but it could not con-sole her for the contempt which had thus beenself-attracted by the rest of her family; andas she considered that Jane’s disappointmenthad in fact been the work of her nearest rela-tions, and reflected how materially the creditof both must be hurt by such impropriety ofconduct, she felt depressed beyond anythingshe had ever known before.

After wandering along the lane for twohours, giving way to every variety ofthought—re-considering events, determiningprobabilities, and reconciling herself, as wellas she could, to a change so sudden and so im-portant, fatigue, and a recollection of her longabsence, made her at length return home; andshe entered the house with the wish of appear-ing cheerful as usual, and the resolution ofrepressing such reflections as must make herunfit for conversation.

She was immediately told that the twogentlemen from Rosings had each called dur-ing her absence; Mr. Darcy, only for a fewminutes, to take leave—but that ColonelFitzwilliam had been sitting with them atleast an hour, hoping for her return, and al-most resolving to walk after her till she couldbe found. Elizabeth could but just affect con-cern in missing him; she really rejoiced at it.Colonel Fitzwilliam was no longer an object;

Chapter 36 299

she could think only of her letter.

Chapter 37

The two gentlemen left Rosings the nextmorning, and Mr. Collins having been in wait-ing near the lodges, to make them his partingobeisance, was able to bring home the pleas-ing intelligence, of their appearing in verygood health, and in as tolerable spirits ascould be expected, after the melancholy sceneso lately gone through at Rosings. To Rosingshe then hastened, to console Lady Catherineand her daughter; and on his return broughtback, with great satisfaction, a message fromher ladyship, importing that she felt herselfso dull as to make her very desirous of havingthem all to dine with her.

Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherinewithout recollecting that, had she chosen it,she might by this time have been presented toher as her future niece; nor could she think,without a smile, of what her ladyship’s indig-nation would have been. “What would shehave said? how would she have behaved?”were questions with which she amused her-self.

Their first subject was the diminution ofthe Rosings party. “I assure you, I feel it ex-

301


ceedingly,” said Lady Catherine; “I believe noone feels the loss of friends so much as I do.But I am particularly attached to these youngmen, and know them to be so much attachedto me! They were excessively sorry to go! Butso they always are. The dear Colonel ralliedhis spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcyseemed to feel it most acutely, more, I think,than last year. His attachment to Rosings cer-tainly increases.”

Mr. Collins had a compliment, and an al-lusion to throw in here, which were kindlysmiled on by the mother and daughter.

Lady Catherine observed, after dinner,that Miss Bennet seemed out of spirits, andimmediately accounting for it by herself, bysupposing that she did not like to go homeagain so soon, she added:

“But if that is the case, you must write toyour mother and beg that you may stay a littlelonger. Mrs. Collins will be very glad of yourcompany, I am sure.”

“I am much obliged to your ladyship foryour kind invitation,” replied Elizabeth, “butit is not in my power to accept it. I must be intown next Saturday.”

“Why, at that rate, you will have been hereonly six weeks. I expected you to stay twomonths. I told Mrs. Collins so before youcame. There can be no occasion for your go-ing so soon. Mrs. Bennet could certainly spareyou for another fortnight.”

“But my father cannot. He wrote last weekto hurry my return.”

“Oh! your father of course may spare you,

Chapter 37 303

if your mother can. Daughters are never ofso much consequence to a father. And if youwill stay another month complete, it will bein my power to take one of you as far as Lon-don, for I am going there early in June, fora week; and as Dawson does not object to thebarouche-box, there will be very good room forone of you—and indeed, if the weather shouldhappen to be cool, I should not object to takingyou both, as you are neither of you large.”

“You are all kindness, madam; but I be-lieve we must abide by our original plan.”

Lady Catherine seemed resigned. “Mrs.Collins, you must send a servant with them.You know I always speak my mind, and I can-not bear the idea of two young women travel-ling post by themselves. It is highly improper.You must contrive to send somebody. I havethe greatest dislike in the world to that sort ofthing. Young women should always be prop-erly guarded and attended, according to theirsituation in life. When my niece Georgianawent to Ramsgate last summer, I made a pointof her having two men-servants go with her.Miss Darcy, the daughter of Mr. Darcy, of Pem-berley, and Lady Anne, could not have ap-peared with propriety in a different manner.I am excessively attentive to all those things.You must send John with the young ladies,Mrs. Collins. I am glad it occurred to me tomention it; for it would really be discreditableto you to let them go alone.”

“My uncle is to send a servant for us.”“Oh! Your uncle! He keeps a man-servant,

does he? I am very glad you have somebody


who thinks of these things. Where shall youchange horses? Oh! Bromley, of course. Ifyou mention my name at the Bell, you will beattended to.”

Lady Catherine had many other questionsto ask respecting their journey, and as shedid not answer them all herself, attentionwas necessary, which Elizabeth believed to belucky for her; or, with a mind so occupied,she might have forgotten where she was. Re-flection must be reserved for solitary hours;whenever she was alone, she gave way to itas the greatest relief; and not a day went bywithout a solitary walk, in which she mightindulge in all the delight of unpleasant recol-lections.

Mr. Darcy’s letter she was in a fair wayof soon knowing by heart. She studied everysentence; and her feelings towards its writerwere at times widely different. When she re-membered the style of his address, she wasstill full of indignation; but when she consid-ered how unjustly she had condemned and up-braided him, her anger was turned againstherself; and his disappointed feelings becamethe object of compassion. His attachment ex-cited gratitude, his general character respect;but she could not approve him; nor could shefor a moment repent her refusal, or feel theslightest inclination ever to see him again. Inher own past behaviour, there was a constantsource of vexation and regret; and in the un-happy defects of her family, a subject of yetheavier chagrin. They were hopeless of rem-edy. Her father, contented with laughing at

Chapter 37 305

them, would never exert himself to restrainthe wild giddiness of his youngest daughters;and her mother, with manners so far fromright herself, was entirely insensible of theevil. Elizabeth had frequently united withJane in an endeavour to check the impru-dence of Catherine and Lydia; but while theywere supported by their mother’s indulgence,what chance could there be of improvement?Catherine, weak-spirited, irritable, and com-pletely under Lydia’s guidance, had been al-ways affronted by their advice; and Lydia,self-willed and careless, would scarcely givethem a hearing. They were ignorant, idle, andvain. While there was an officer in Meryton,they would flirt with him; and while Merytonwas within a walk of Longbourn, they wouldbe going there forever.

Anxiety on Jane’s behalf was another pre-vailing concern; and Mr. Darcy’s explanation,by restoring Bingley to all her former goodopinion, heightened the sense of what Janehad lost. His affection was proved to havebeen sincere, and his conduct cleared of allblame, unless any could attach to the implic-itness of his confidence in his friend. Howgrievous then was the thought that, of a situ-ation so desirable in every respect, so repletewith advantage, so promising for happiness,Jane had been deprived, by the folly and in-decorum of her own family!

When to these recollections was added thedevelopement of Wickham’s character, it maybe easily believed that the happy spirits whichhad seldom been depressed before, were now


so much affected as to make it almost impos-sible for her to appear tolerably cheerful.

Their engagements at Rosings were as fre-quent during the last week of her stay as theyhad been at first. The very last evening wasspent there; and her ladyship again inquiredminutely into the particulars of their journey,gave them directions as to the best method ofpacking, and was so urgent on the necessityof placing gowns in the only right way, thatMaria thought herself obliged, on her return,to undo all the work of the morning, and packher trunk afresh.

When they parted, Lady Catherine, withgreat condescension, wished them a good jour-ney, and invited them to come to Hunsfordagain next year; and Miss de Bourgh exertedherself so far as to curtsey and hold out herhand to both.

Chapter 38

On Saturday morning Elizabeth and Mr.Collins met for breakfast a few minutes beforethe others appeared; and he took the opportu-nity of paying the parting civilities which hedeemed indispensably necessary.

“I know not, Miss Elizabeth,” said he,“whether Mrs. Collins has yet expressed hersense of your kindness in coming to us; but Iam very certain you will not leave the housewithout receiving her thanks for it. The favorof your company has been much felt, I assureyou. We know how little there is to tempt any-one to our humble abode. Our plain mannerof living, our small rooms and few domestics,and the little we see of the world, must makeHunsford extremely dull to a young lady likeyourself; but I hope you will believe us grate-ful for the condescension, and that we havedone everything in our power to prevent yourspending your time unpleasantly.”

Elizabeth was eager with her thanks andassurances of happiness. She had spent sixweeks with great enjoyment; and the pleasureof being with Charlotte, and the kind atten-tions she had received, must make her feel the

307


obliged. Mr. Collins was gratified, and with amore smiling solemnity replied:

“It gives me great pleasure to hear that youhave passed your time not disagreeably. Wehave certainly done our best; and most fortu-nately having it in our power to introduce youto very superior society, and, from our connec-tion with Rosings, the frequent means of vary-ing the humble home scene, I think we mayflatter ourselves that your Hunsford visit can-not have been entirely irksome. Our situationwith regard to Lady Catherine’s family is in-deed the sort of extraordinary advantage andblessing which few can boast. You see on whata footing we are. You see how continually weare engaged there. In truth I must acknowl-edge that, with all the disadvantages of thishumble parsonage, I should not think anyoneabiding in it an object of compassion, whilethey are sharers of our intimacy at Rosings.”

Words were insufficient for the elevation ofhis feelings; and he was obliged to walk aboutthe room, while Elizabeth tried to unite civil-ity and truth in a few short sentences.

“You may, in fact, carry a very favourablereport of us into Hertfordshire, my dearcousin. I flatter myself at least that youwill be able to do so. Lady Catherine’s greatattentions to Mrs. Collins you have been adaily witness of; and altogether I trust it doesnot appear that your friend has drawn anunfortunate—but on this point it will be aswell to be silent. Only let me assure you, mydear Miss Elizabeth, that I can from my heartmost cordially wish you equal felicity in mar-

Chapter 38 309

riage. My dear Charlotte and I have but onemind and one way of thinking. There is ineverything a most remarkable resemblance ofcharacter and ideas between us. We seem tohave been designed for each other.”

Elizabeth could safely say that it was agreat happiness where that was the case, andwith equal sincerity could add, that she firmlybelieved and rejoiced in his domestic comforts.She was not sorry, however, to have the recitalof them interrupted by the lady from whomthey sprang. Poor Charlotte! it was melan-choly to leave her to such society! But she hadchosen it with her eyes open; and though evi-dently regretting that her visitors were to go,she did not seem to ask for compassion. Herhome and her housekeeping, her parish andher poultry, and all their dependent concerns,had not yet lost their charms.

At length the chaise arrived, the trunkswere fastened on, the parcels placed within,and it was pronounced to be ready. After anaffectionate parting between the friends, Eliz-abeth was attended to the carriage by Mr.Collins, and as they walked down the gar-den he was commissioning her with his bestrespects to all her family, not forgetting histhanks for the kindness he had received atLongbourn in the winter, and his complimentsto Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, though unknown.He then handed her in, Maria followed, andthe door was on the point of being closed,when he suddenly reminded them, with someconsternation, that they had hitherto forgot-ten to leave any message for the ladies at Ros-


ings.“But,” he added, “you will of course wish to

have your humble respects delivered to them,with your grateful thanks for their kindnessto you while you have been here.”

Elizabeth made no objection; the door wasthen allowed to be shut, and the carriagedrove off.

“Good gracious!” cried Maria, after a fewminutes’ silence, “it seems but a day or twosince we first came! and yet how many thingshave happened!”

“A great many indeed,” said her companionwith a sigh.

“We have dined nine times at Rosings, be-sides drinking tea there twice! How much Ishall have to tell!”

Elizabeth added privately, “And how muchI shall have to conceal!”

Their journey was performed withoutmuch conversation, or any alarm; and withinfour hours of their leaving Hunsford theyreached Mr. Gardiner’s house, where theywere to remain a few days.

Jane looked well, and Elizabeth had littleopportunity of studying her spirits, amidst thevarious engagements which the kindness ofher aunt had reserved for them. But Jane wasto go home with her, and at Longbourn therewould be leisure enough for observation.

It was not without an effort, meanwhile,that she could wait even for Longbourn, be-fore she told her sister of Mr. Darcy’s propos-als. To know that she had the power of reveal-ing what would so exceedingly astonish Jane,

Chapter 38 311

and must, at the same time, so highly gratifywhatever of her own vanity she had not yetbeen able to reason away, was such a temp-tation to openness as nothing could have con-quered but the state of indecision in which sheremained as to the extent of what she shouldcommunicate; and her fear, if she once enteredon the subject, of being hurried into repeatingsomething of Bingley which might only grieveher sister further.

Chapter 39

It was the second week in May, in whichthe three young ladies set out together fromGracechurch Street for the town of ——, inHertfordshire; and, as they drew near the ap-pointed inn where Mr. Bennet’s carriage wasto meet them, they quickly perceived, in tokenof the coachman’s punctuality, both Kitty andLydia looking out of a dining-room upstairs.These two girls had been above an hour in theplace, happily employed in visiting an oppo-site milliner, watching the sentinel on guard,and dressing a salad and cucumber.

After welcoming their sisters, they tri-umphantly displayed a table set out with suchcold meat as an inn larder usually affords,exclaiming, “Is not this nice? Is not this anagreeable surprise?”

“And we mean to treat you all,” added Ly-dia, “but you must lend us the money, for wehave just spent ours at the shop out there.”Then, showing her purchases—“Look here, Ihave bought this bonnet. I do not think it isvery pretty; but I thought I might as well buyit as not. I shall pull it to pieces as soon asI get home, and see if I can make it up any

313


better.”And when her sisters abused it as ugly,

she added, with perfect unconcern, “Oh! butthere were two or three much uglier in theshop; and when I have bought some prettier-coloured satin to trim it with fresh, I thinkit will be very tolerable. Besides, it will notmuch signify what one wears this summer, af-ter the ——shire have left Meryton, and theyare going in a fortnight.”

“Are they indeed!” cried Elizabeth, withthe greatest satisfaction.

“They are going to be encamped nearBrighton; and I do so want papa to take usall there for the summer! It would be such adelicious scheme; and I dare say would hardlycost anything at all. Mamma would like to gotoo of all things! Only think what a miserablesummer else we shall have!”

“Yes,” thought Elizabeth, “That would be adelightful scheme indeed, and completely dofor us at once. Good Heaven! Brighton, anda whole campful of soldiers, to us, who havebeen overset already by one poor regiment ofmilitia, and the monthly balls of Meryton!”

“Now I have got some news for you,” saidLydia, as they sat down at table. “Whatdo you think? It is excellent news—capitalnews—and about a certain person we all like!”

Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other,and the waiter was told he need not stay. Ly-dia laughed, and said:

“Aye, that is just like your formality anddiscretion. You thought the waiter must nothear, as if he cared! I dare say he often hears

Chapter 39 315

worse things said than I am going to say. Buthe is an ugly fellow! I am glad he is gone. Inever saw such a long chin in my life. Well,but now for my news; it is about dear Wick-ham; too good for the waiter, is it not? There isno danger of Wickham’s marrying Mary King.There’s for you! She is gone down to her uncleat Liverpool: gone to stay. Wickham is safe.”

“And Mary King is safe!” added Elizabeth;“safe from a connection imprudent as to for-tune.”

“She is a great fool for going away, if sheliked him.”

“But I hope there is no strong attachmenton either side,” said Jane.

“I am sure there is not on his. I willanswer for it, he never cared three strawsabout her—who could about such a nasty lit-tle freckled thing?”

Elizabeth was shocked to think that, how-ever incapable of such coarseness of expres-sion herself, the coarseness of the sentimentwas little other than her own breast had har-boured and fancied liberal!

As soon as all had ate, and the elder onespaid, the carriage was ordered; and after somecontrivance, the whole party, with all theirboxes, work-bags, and parcels, and the un-welcome addition of Kitty’s and Lydia’s pur-chases, were seated in it.

“How nicely we are all crammed in,” criedLydia. “I am glad I bought my bonnet, if itis only for the fun of having another band-box! Well, now let us be quite comfortableand snug, and talk and laugh all the way


home. And in the first place, let us hear whathas happened to you all since you went away.Have you seen any pleasant men? Have youhad any flirting? I was in great hopes thatone of you would have got a husband beforeyou came back. Jane will be quite an oldmaid soon, I declare. She is almost three-and-twenty! Lord, how ashamed I should be of notbeing married before three-and-twenty! Myaunt Phillips wants you so to get husbands,you can’t think. She says Lizzy had betterhave taken Mr. Collins; but I do not thinkthere would have been any fun in it. Lord!how I should like to be married before any ofyou; and then I would chaperon you about toall the balls. Dear me! we had such a goodpiece of fun the other day at Colonel Forster’s.Kitty and me were to spend the day there, andMrs. Forster promised to have a little dancein the evening; (by the bye, Mrs. Forster andme are such friends!) and so she asked thetwo Harringtons to come, but Harriet was ill,and so Pen was forced to come by herself; andthen, what do you think we did? We dressedup Chamberlayne in woman’s clothes on pur-pose to pass for a lady, only think what fun!Not a soul knew of it, but Colonel and Mrs.Forster, and Kitty and me, except my aunt,for we were forced to borrow one of her gowns;and you cannot imagine how well he looked!When Denny, and Wickham, and Pratt, andtwo or three more of the men came in, theydid not know him in the least. Lord! how Ilaughed! and so did Mrs. Forster. I thoughtI should have died. And that made the men

Chapter 39 317

suspect something, and then they soon foundout what was the matter.”

With such kinds of histories of their partiesand good jokes, did Lydia, assisted by Kitty’shints and additions, endeavour to amuse hercompanions all the way to Longbourn. Eliz-abeth listened as little as she could, butthere was no escaping the frequent mentionof Wickham’s name.

Their reception at home was most kind.Mrs. Bennet rejoiced to see Jane in undimin-ished beauty; and more than once during din-ner did Mr. Bennet say voluntarily to Eliza-beth:

“I am glad you are come back, Lizzy.”Their party in the dining-room was large,

for almost all the Lucases came to meet Mariaand hear the news; and various were the sub-jects that occupied them: Lady Lucas was in-quiring of Maria, after the welfare and poul-try of her eldest daughter; Mrs. Bennet wasdoubly engaged, on one hand collecting an ac-count of the present fashions from Jane, whosat some way below her, and, on the other, re-tailing them all to the younger Lucases; andLydia, in a voice rather louder than any otherperson’s, was enumerating the various plea-sures of the morning to anybody who wouldhear her.

“Oh! Mary,” said she, “I wish you had gonewith us, for we had such fun! As we wentalong, Kitty and I drew up the blinds, and pre-tended there was nobody in the coach; and Ishould have gone so all the way, if Kitty hadnot been sick; and when we got to the George,


I do think we behaved very handsomely, forwe treated the other three with the nicest coldluncheon in the world, and if you would havegone, we would have treated you too. Andthen when we came away it was such fun!I thought we never should have got into thecoach. I was ready to die of laughter. And thenwe were so merry all the way home! we talkedand laughed so loud, that anybody might haveheard us ten miles off!”

To this Mary very gravely replied, “Far beit from me, my dear sister, to depreciate suchpleasures! They would doubtless be congenialwith the generality of female minds. But Iconfess they would have no charms for me—I should infinitely prefer a book.”

But of this answer Lydia heard not a word.She seldom listened to anybody for more thanhalf a minute, and never attended to Mary atall.

In the afternoon Lydia was urgent withthe rest of the girls to walk to Meryton, andto see how everybody went on; but Elizabethsteadily opposed the scheme. It should notbe said that the Miss Bennets could not be athome half a day before they were in pursuit ofthe officers. There was another reason too forher opposition. She dreaded seeing Mr. Wick-ham again, and was resolved to avoid it aslong as possible. The comfort to her of the reg-iment’s approaching removal was indeed be-yond expression. In a fortnight they were togo—and once gone, she hoped there could benothing more to plague her on his account.

She had not been many hours at home be-

Chapter 39 319

fore she found that the Brighton scheme, ofwhich Lydia had given them a hint at the inn,was under frequent discussion between herparents. Elizabeth saw directly that her fa-ther had not the smallest intention of yield-ing; but his answers were at the same time sovague and equivocal, that her mother, thoughoften disheartened, had never yet despaired ofsucceeding at last.

Chapter 40

Elizabeth’s impatience to acquaint Jane withwhat had happened could no longer be over-come; and at length, resolving to suppress ev-ery particular in which her sister was con-cerned, and preparing her to be surprised, sherelated to her the next morning the chief ofthe scene between Mr. Darcy and herself.

Miss Bennet’s astonishment was soon less-ened by the strong sisterly partiality whichmade any admiration of Elizabeth appear per-fectly natural; and all surprise was shortlylost in other feelings. She was sorry that Mr.Darcy should have delivered his sentiments ina manner so little suited to recommend them;but still more was she grieved for the unhap-piness which her sister’s refusal must havegiven him.

“His being so sure of succeeding waswrong,” said she, “and certainly ought notto have appeared; but consider how much itmust increase his disappointment!”

“Indeed,” replied Elizabeth, “I am heartilysorry for him; but he has other feelings, whichwill probably soon drive away his regard forme. You do not blame me, however, for refus-

321


ing him?”“Blame you! Oh, no.”“But you blame me for having spoken so

warmly of Wickham?”“No—I do not know that you were wrong

in saying what you did.”“But you will know it, when I tell you what

happened the very next day.”She then spoke of the letter, repeating the

whole of its contents as far as they concernedGeorge Wickham. What a stroke was thisfor poor Jane! who would willingly have gonethrough the world without believing that somuch wickedness existed in the whole race ofmankind, as was here collected in one indi-vidual. Nor was Darcy’s vindication, thoughgrateful to her feelings, capable of consolingher for such discovery. Most earnestly did shelabour to prove the probability of error, andseek to clear the one without involving theother.

“This will not do,” said Elizabeth; “younever will be able to make both of them goodfor anything. Take your choice, but you mustbe satisfied with only one. There is but such aquantity of merit between them; just enoughto make one good sort of man; and of late ithas been shifting about pretty much. For mypart, I am inclined to believe it all Darcy’s; butyou shall do as you choose.”

It was some time, however, before a smilecould be extorted from Jane.

“I do not know when I have been moreshocked,” said she. “Wickham so very bad!It is almost past belief. And poor Mr. Darcy!

Chapter 40 323

Dear Lizzy, only consider what he must havesuffered. Such a disappointment! and withthe knowledge of your ill opinion, too! andhaving to relate such a thing of his sister! Itis really too distressing. I am sure you mustfeel it so.”

“Oh! no, my regret and compassion are alldone away by seeing you so full of both. I knowyou will do him such ample justice, that I amgrowing every moment more unconcerned andindifferent. Your profusion makes me saving;and if you lament over him much longer, myheart will be as light as a feather.”

“Poor Wickham! there is such an expres-sion of goodness in his countenance! such anopenness and gentleness in his manner!”

“There certainly was some great misman-agement in the education of those two youngmen. One has got all the goodness, and theother all the appearance of it.”

“I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient inthe appearance of it as you used to do.”

“And yet I meant to be uncommonly cleverin taking so decided a dislike to him, withoutany reason. It is such a spur to one’s genius,such an opening for wit, to have a dislike ofthat kind. One may be continually abusivewithout saying anything just; but one cannotalways be laughing at a man without now andthen stumbling on something witty.”

“Lizzy, when you first read that letter, I amsure you could not treat the matter as you donow.”

“Indeed, I could not. I was uncomfortableenough, I may say unhappy. And with no one


to speak to about what I felt, no Jane to com-fort me and say that I had not been so veryweak and vain and nonsensical as I knew Ihad! Oh! how I wanted you!”

“How unfortunate that you should haveused such very strong expressions in speak-ing of Wickham to Mr. Darcy, for now they doappear wholly undeserved.”

“Certainly. But the misfortune of speak-ing with bitterness is a most natural conse-quence of the prejudices I had been encourag-ing. There is one point on which I want youradvice. I want to be told whether I ought, orought not, to make our acquaintances in gen-eral understand Wickham’s character.”

Miss Bennet paused a little, and thenreplied, “Surely there can be no occasion forexposing him so dreadfully. What is your opin-ion?”

“That it ought not to be attempted. Mr.Darcy has not authorised me to make his com-munication public. On the contrary, every par-ticular relative to his sister was meant to bekept as much as possible to myself; and if I en-deavour to undeceive people as to the rest ofhis conduct, who will believe me? The generalprejudice against Mr. Darcy is so violent, thatit would be the death of half the good peoplein Meryton to attempt to place him in an ami-able light. I am not equal to it. Wickham willsoon be gone; and therefore it will not signifyto anyone here what he really is. Some timehence it will be all found out, and then we maylaugh at their stupidity in not knowing it be-fore. At present I will say nothing about it.”

Chapter 40 325

“You are quite right. To have his errorsmade public might ruin him for ever. He isnow, perhaps, sorry for what he has done, andanxious to re-establish a character. We mustnot make him desperate.”

The tumult of Elizabeth’s mind was al-layed by this conversation. She had got rid oftwo of the secrets which had weighed on herfor a fortnight, and was certain of a willinglistener in Jane, whenever she might wish totalk again of either. But there was still some-thing lurking behind, of which prudence for-bade the disclosure. She dared not relate theother half of Mr. Darcy’s letter, nor explain toher sister how sincerely she had been valuedby her friend. Here was knowledge in whichno one could partake; and she was sensiblethat nothing less than a perfect understand-ing between the parties could justify her inthrowing off this last encumbrance of mystery.“And then,” said she, “if that very improbableevent should ever take place, I shall merely beable to tell what Bingley may tell in a muchmore agreeable manner himself. The libertyof communication cannot be mine till it haslost all its value!”

She was now, on being settled at home, atleisure to observe the real state of her sis-ter’s spirits. Jane was not happy. She stillcherished a very tender affection for Bingley.Having never even fancied herself in love be-fore, her regard had all the warmth of firstattachment, and, from her age and disposi-tion, greater steadiness than most first at-tachments often boast; and so fervently did


she value his remembrance, and prefer himto every other man, that all her good sense,and all her attention to the feelings of herfriends, were requisite to check the indulgenceof those regrets which must have been injuri-ous to her own health and their tranquillity.

“Well, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet one day,“what is your opinion now of this sad busi-ness of Jane’s? For my part, I am determinednever to speak of it again to anybody. I toldmy sister Phillips so the other day. But I can-not find out that Jane saw anything of him inLondon. Well, he is a very undeserving youngman—and I do not suppose there’s the leastchance in the world of her ever getting himnow. There is no talk of his coming to Nether-field again in the summer; and I have inquiredof everybody, too, who is likely to know.”

“I do not believe he will ever live at Nether-field any more.”

“Oh well! it is just as he chooses. Nobodywants him to come. Though I shall always sayhe used my daughter extremely ill; and if Iwas her, I would not have put up with it. Well,my comfort is, I am sure Jane will die of a bro-ken heart; and then he will be sorry for whathe has done.”

But as Elizabeth could not receive comfortfrom any such expectation, she made no an-swer.

“Well, Lizzy,” continued her mother, soonafterwards, “and so the Collinses live verycomfortable, do they? Well, well, I only hope itwill last. And what sort of table do they keep?Charlotte is an excellent manager, I dare say.

Chapter 40 327

If she is half as sharp as her mother, she issaving enough. There is nothing extravagantin their housekeeping, I dare say.”

“No, nothing at all.”“A great deal of good management, depend

upon it. Yes, yes. They will take care not tooutrun their income. They will never be dis-tressed for money. Well, much good may it dothem! And so, I suppose, they often talk ofhaving Longbourn when your father is dead.They look upon it as quite their own, I daresay, whenever that happens.”

“It was a subject which they could not men-tion before me.”

“No; it would have been strange if theyhad; but I make no doubt they often talk ofit between themselves. Well, if they can beeasy with an estate that is not lawfully theirown, so much the better. I should be ashamedof having one that was only entailed on me.”

Chapter 41

The first week of their return was soon gone.The second began. It was the last of the reg-iment’s stay in Meryton, and all the youngladies in the neighbourhood were droopingapace. The dejection was almost universal.The elder Miss Bennets alone were still ableto eat, drink, and sleep, and pursue the usualcourse of their employments. Very frequentlywere they reproached for this insensibility byKitty and Lydia, whose own misery was ex-treme, and who could not comprehend suchhard-heartedness in any of the family.

“Good Heaven! what is to become of us?What are we to do?” would they often exclaim-ing the bitterness of woe. “How can you besmiling so, Lizzy?”

Their affectionate mother shared all theirgrief; she remembered what she had her-self endured on a similar occasion, five-and-twenty years ago.

“I am sure,” said she, “I cried for two daystogether when Colonel Miller’s regiment wentaway. I thought I should have broken myheart.”

“I am sure I shall break mine,” said Lydia.

329


“If one could but go to Brighton!” observedMrs. Bennet.

“Oh, yes!—if one could but go to Brighton!But papa is so disagreeable.”

“A little sea-bathing would set me up for-ever.”

“And my aunt Phillips is sure it would dome a great deal of good,” added Kitty.

Such were the kind of lamentationsresounding perpetually through LongbournHouse. Elizabeth tried to be diverted by them;but all sense of pleasure was lost in shame.She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy’s objec-tions; and never had she been so much dis-posed to pardon his interference in the viewsof his friend.

But the gloom of Lydia’s prospect wasshortly cleared away; for she received an in-vitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of thecolonel of the regiment, to accompany her toBrighton. This invaluable friend was a veryyoung woman, and very lately married. Aresemblance in good humour and good spir-its had recommended her and Lydia to eachother, and out of their three months’ acquain-tance they had been intimate two.

The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, heradoration of Mrs. Forster, the delight of Mrs.Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, arescarcely to be described. Wholly inattentiveto her sister’s feelings, Lydia flew about thehouse in restless ecstasy, calling for every-one’s congratulations, and laughing and talk-ing with more violence than ever; whilst theluckless Kitty continued in the parlour re-

Chapter 41 331

pined at her fate in terms as unreasonable asher accent was peevish.

“I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should notask me as well as Lydia,” said she, “ThoughI am not her particular friend. I have just asmuch right to be asked as she has, and moretoo, for I am two years older.”

In vain did Elizabeth attempt to make herreasonable, and Jane to make her resigned.As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation wasso far from exciting in her the same feelingsas in her mother and Lydia, that she consid-ered it as the death warrant of all possibil-ity of common sense for the latter; and de-testable as such a step must make her wereit known, she could not help secretly advisingher father not to let her go. She representedto him all the improprieties of Lydia’s generalbehaviour, the little advantage she could de-rive from the friendship of such a woman asMrs. Forster, and the probability of her beingyet more imprudent with such a companionat Brighton, where the temptations must begreater than at home. He heard her atten-tively, and then said:

“Lydia will never be easy until she has ex-posed herself in some public place or other,and we can never expect her to do it with solittle expense or inconvenience to her familyas under the present circumstances.”

“If you were aware,” said Elizabeth, “of thevery great disadvantage to us all which mustarise from the public notice of Lydia’s un-guarded and imprudent manner—nay, whichhas already arisen from it, I am sure you


would judge differently in the affair.”“Already arisen?” repeated Mr. Bennet.

“What, has she frightened away some of yourlovers? Poor little Lizzy! But do not be castdown. Such squeamish youths as cannot bearto be connected with a little absurdity are notworth a regret. Come, let me see the list ofpitiful fellows who have been kept aloof by Ly-dia’s folly.”

“Indeed you are mistaken. I have no suchinjuries to resent. It is not of particular, butof general evils, which I am now complain-ing. Our importance, our respectability in theworld must be affected by the wild volatil-ity, the assurance and disdain of all restraintwhich mark Lydia’s character. Excuse me, forI must speak plainly. If you, my dear father,will not take the trouble of checking her ex-uberant spirits, and of teaching her that herpresent pursuits are not to be the businessof her life, she will soon be beyond the reachof amendment. Her character will be fixed,and she will, at sixteen, be the most deter-mined flirt that ever made herself or her fam-ily ridiculous; a flirt, too, in the worst andmeanest degree of flirtation; without any at-traction beyond youth and a tolerable person;and, from the ignorance and emptiness of hermind, wholly unable to ward off any portionof that universal contempt which her rage foradmiration will excite. In this danger Kittyalso is comprehended. She will follow wher-ever Lydia leads. Vain, ignorant, idle, andabsolutely uncontrolled! Oh! my dear father,can you suppose it possible that they will not

Chapter 41 333

be censured and despised wherever they areknown, and that their sisters will not be ofteninvolved in the disgrace?”

Mr. Bennet saw that her whole heart wasin the subject, and affectionately taking herhand said in reply:

“Do not make yourself uneasy, my love.Wherever you and Jane are known you mustbe respected and valued; and you will notappear to less advantage for having a cou-ple of—or I may say, three—very silly sisters.We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Ly-dia does not go to Brighton. Let her go, then.Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and willkeep her out of any real mischief; and sheis luckily too poor to be an object of prey toanybody. At Brighton she will be of less im-portance even as a common flirt than she hasbeen here. The officers will find women bet-ter worth their notice. Let us hope, therefore,that her being there may teach her her owninsignificance. At any rate, she cannot growmany degrees worse, without authorising usto lock her up for the rest of her life.”

With this answer Elizabeth was forced tobe content; but her own opinion continued thesame, and she left him disappointed and sorry.It was not in her nature, however, to increaseher vexations by dwelling on them. She wasconfident of having performed her duty, and tofret over unavoidable evils, or augment themby anxiety, was no part of her disposition.

Had Lydia and her mother known the sub-stance of her conference with her father, theirindignation would hardly have found expres-


sion in their united volubility. In Lydia’simagination, a visit to Brighton comprised ev-ery possibility of earthly happiness. She saw,with the creative eye of fancy, the streets ofthat gay bathing-place covered with officers.She saw herself the object of attention, to tensand to scores of them at present unknown.She saw all the glories of the camp—its tentsstretched forth in beauteous uniformity oflines, crowded with the young and the gay,and dazzling with scarlet; and, to completethe view, she saw herself seated beneath atent, tenderly flirting with at least six officersat once.

Had she known her sister sought to tearher from such prospects and such realities asthese, what would have been her sensations?They could have been understood only by hermother, who might have felt nearly the same.Lydia’s going to Brighton was all that con-soled her for her melancholy conviction of herhusband’s never intending to go there himself.

But they were entirely ignorant of whathad passed; and their raptures continued,with little intermission, to the very day of Ly-dia’s leaving home.

Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham forthe last time. Having been frequently in com-pany with him since her return, agitation waspretty well over; the agitations of former par-tiality entirely so. She had even learnt to de-tect, in the very gentleness which had first de-lighted her, an affectation and a sameness todisgust and weary. In his present behaviourto herself, moreover, she had a fresh source

Chapter 41 335

of displeasure, for the inclination he soon tes-tified of renewing those intentions which hadmarked the early part of their acquaintancecould only serve, after what had since passed,to provoke her. She lost all concern for himin finding herself thus selected as the objectof such idle and frivolous gallantry; and whileshe steadily repressed it, could not but feel thereproof contained in his believing, that how-ever long, and for whatever cause, his atten-tions had been withdrawn, her vanity wouldbe gratified, and her preference secured atany time by their renewal.

On the very last day of the regiment’s re-maining at Meryton, he dined, with otherof the officers, at Longbourn; and so littlewas Elizabeth disposed to part from him ingood humour, that on his making some in-quiry as to the manner in which her time hadpassed at Hunsford, she mentioned ColonelFitzwilliam’s and Mr. Darcy’s having bothspent three weeks at Rosings, and asked him,if he was acquainted with the former.

He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed;but with a moment’s recollection and a return-ing smile, replied, that he had formerly seenhim often; and, after observing that he was avery gentlemanlike man, asked her how shehad liked him. Her answer was warmly in hisfavour. With an air of indifference he soon af-terwards added:

“How long did you say he was at Rosings?”“Nearly three weeks.”“And you saw him frequently?”“Yes, almost every day.”


“His manners are very different from hiscousin’s.”

“Yes, very different. But I think Mr. Darcyimproves upon acquaintance.”

“Indeed!” cried Mr. Wickham with a lookwhich did not escape her. “And pray, may Iask?—” But checking himself, he added, in agayer tone, “Is it in address that he improves?Has he deigned to add aught of civility to hisordinary style?—for I dare not hope,” he con-tinued in a lower and more serious tone, “thathe is improved in essentials.”

“Oh, no!” said Elizabeth. “In essentials, Ibelieve, he is very much what he ever was.”

While she spoke, Wickham looked as ifscarcely knowing whether to rejoice over herwords, or to distrust their meaning. Therewas a something in her countenance whichmade him listen with an apprehensive andanxious attention, while she added:

“When I said that he improved on acquain-tance, I did not mean that his mind or hismanners were in a state of improvement, butthat, from knowing him better, his dispositionwas better understood.”

Wickham’s alarm now appeared in aheightened complexion and agitated look; fora few minutes he was silent, till, shaking offhis embarrassment, he turned to her again,and said in the gentlest of accents:

“You, who so well know my feeling towardsMr. Darcy, will readily comprehend how sin-cerely I must rejoice that he is wise enough toassume even the appearance of what is right.His pride, in that direction, may be of service,

Chapter 41 337

if not to himself, to many others, for it mustonly deter him from such foul misconduct asI have suffered by. I only fear that the sortof cautiousness to which you, I imagine, havebeen alluding, is merely adopted on his visitsto his aunt, of whose good opinion and judge-ment he stands much in awe. His fear of herhas always operated, I know, when they weretogether; and a good deal is to be imputed tohis wish of forwarding the match with Miss deBourgh, which I am certain he has very muchat heart.”

Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this,but she answered only by a slight inclinationof the head. She saw that he wanted to engageher on the old subject of his grievances, andshe was in no humour to indulge him. Therest of the evening passed with the appear-ance, on his side, of usual cheerfulness, butwith no further attempt to distinguish Eliza-beth; and they parted at last with mutual ci-vility, and possibly a mutual desire of nevermeeting again.

When the party broke up, Lydia returnedwith Mrs. Forster to Meryton, from whencethey were to set out early the next morning.The separation between her and her familywas rather noisy than pathetic. Kitty was theonly one who shed tears; but she did weepfrom vexation and envy. Mrs. Bennet was dif-fuse in her good wishes for the felicity of herdaughter, and impressive in her injunctionsthat she should not miss the opportunity ofenjoying herself as much as possible—advicewhich there was every reason to believe would


be well attended to; and in the clamorous hap-piness of Lydia herself in bidding farewell, themore gentle adieus of her sisters were utteredwithout being heard.

Chapter 42

Had Elizabeth’s opinion been all drawn fromher own family, she could not have formeda very pleasing opinion of conjugal felicityor domestic comfort. Her father, captivatedby youth and beauty, and that appearance ofgood humour which youth and beauty gener-ally give, had married a woman whose weakunderstanding and illiberal mind had veryearly in their marriage put an end to all realaffection for her. Respect, esteem, and confi-dence had vanished for ever; and all his viewsof domestic happiness were overthrown. ButMr. Bennet was not of a disposition to seekcomfort for the disappointment which his ownimprudence had brought on, in any of thosepleasures which too often console the unfor-tunate for their folly of their vice. He wasfond of the country and of books; and fromthese tastes had arisen his principal enjoy-ments. To his wife he was very little otherwiseindebted, than as her ignorance and folly hadcontributed to his amusement. This is not thesort of happiness which a man would in gen-eral wish to owe to his wife; but where otherpowers of entertainment are wanting, the true

339


philosopher will derive benefit from such asare given.

Elizabeth, however, had never been blindto the impropriety of her father’s behaviouras a husband. She had always seen it withpain; but respecting his abilities, and grate-ful for his affectionate treatment of herself,she endeavoured to forget what she could notoverlook, and to banish from her thoughtsthat continual breach of conjugal obligationand decorum which, in exposing his wife tothe contempt of her own children, was sohighly reprehensible. But she had never feltso strongly as now the disadvantages whichmust attend the children of so unsuitable amarriage, nor ever been so fully aware of theevils arising from so ill-judged a direction oftalents; talents, which, rightly used, might atleast have preserved the respectability of hisdaughters, even if incapable of enlarging themind of his wife.

When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wick-ham’s departure she found little other causefor satisfaction in the loss of the regiment.Their parties abroad were less varied than be-fore, and at home she had a mother and sis-ter whose constant repinings at the dullnessof everything around them threw a real gloomover their domestic circle; and, though Kittymight in time regain her natural degree ofsense, since the disturbers of her brain wereremoved, her other sister, from whose dispo-sition greater evil might be apprehended, waslikely to be hardened in all her folly and as-surance by a situation of such double danger

Chapter 42 341

as a watering-place and a camp. Upon thewhole, therefore, she found, what has beensometimes been found before, that an eventto which she had been looking with impa-tient desire did not, in taking place, bringall the satisfaction she had promised herself.It was consequently necessary to name someother period for the commencement of actualfelicity—to have some other point on whichher wishes and hopes might be fixed, andby again enjoying the pleasure of anticipa-tion, console herself for the present, and pre-pare for another disappointment. Her tour tothe Lakes was now the object of her happi-est thoughts; it was her best consolation forall the uncomfortable hours which the discon-tentedness of her mother and Kitty made in-evitable; and could she have included Jane inthe scheme, every part of it would have beenperfect.

“But it is fortunate,” thought she, “that Ihave something to wish for. Were the wholearrangement complete, my disappointmentwould be certain. But here, by carrying withme one ceaseless source of regret in my sister’sabsence, I may reasonably hope to have all myexpectations of pleasure realised. A scheme ofwhich every part promises delight can neverbe successful; and general disappointment isonly warded off by the defence of some littlepeculiar vexation.”

When Lydia went away she promised towrite very often and very minutely to hermother and Kitty; but her letters were al-ways long expected, and always very short.


Those to her mother contained little else thanthat they were just returned from the library,where such and such officers had attendedthem, and where she had seen such beauti-ful ornaments as made her quite wild; thatshe had a new gown, or a new parasol, whichshe would have described more fully, but wasobliged to leave off in a violent hurry, as Mrs.Forster called her, and they were going off tothe camp; and from her correspondence withher sister, there was still less to be learnt—forher letters to Kitty, though rather longer, weremuch too full of lines under the words to bemade public.

After the first fortnight or three weeks ofher absence, health, good humour, and cheer-fulness began to reappear at Longbourn. Ev-erything wore a happier aspect. The familieswho had been in town for the winter cameback again, and summer finery and summerengagements arose. Mrs. Bennet was restoredto her usual querulous serenity; and, by themiddle of June, Kitty was so much recoveredas to be able to enter Meryton without tears;an event of such happy promise as to makeElizabeth hope that by the following Christ-mas she might be so tolerably reasonable asnot to mention an officer above once a day,unless, by some cruel and malicious arrange-ment at the War Office, another regimentshould be quartered in Meryton.

The time fixed for the beginning of theirnorthern tour was now fast approaching, anda fortnight only was wanting of it, when a let-ter arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once

Chapter 42 343

delayed its commencement and curtailed itsextent. Mr. Gardiner would be prevented bybusiness from setting out till a fortnight laterin July, and must be in London again withina month, and as that left too short a periodfor them to go so far, and see so much as theyhad proposed, or at least to see it with theleisure and comfort they had built on, theywere obliged to give up the Lakes, and substi-tute a more contracted tour, and, according tothe present plan, were to go no farther north-wards than Derbyshire. In that county therewas enough to be seen to occupy the chief oftheir three weeks; and to Mrs. Gardiner ithad a peculiarly strong attraction. The townwhere she had formerly passed some years ofher life, and where they were now to spend afew days, was probably as great an object ofher curiosity as all the celebrated beauties ofMatlock, Chatsworth, Dovedale, or the Peak.

Elizabeth was excessively disappointed;she had set her heart on seeing the Lakes,and still thought there might have beentime enough. But it was her business tobe satisfied—and certainly her temper to behappy; and all was soon right again.

With the mention of Derbyshire there weremany ideas connected. It was impossible forher to see the word without thinking of Pem-berley and its owner. “But surely,” said she, “Imay enter his county without impunity, androb it of a few petrified spars without his per-ceiving me.”

The period of expectation was now dou-bled. Four weeks were to pass away before


her uncle and aunt’s arrival. But they didpass away, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, withtheir four children, did at length appear atLongbourn. The children, two girls of six andeight years old, and two younger boys, wereto be left under the particular care of theircousin Jane, who was the general favourite,and whose steady sense and sweetness of tem-per exactly adapted her for attending to themin every way—teaching them, playing withthem, and loving them.

The Gardiners stayed only one night atLongbourn, and set off the next morning withElizabeth in pursuit of novelty and amuse-ment. One enjoyment was certain—thatof suitableness of companions; a suitable-ness which comprehended health and temperto bear inconveniences—cheerfulness to en-hance every pleasure—and affection and in-telligence, which might supply it among them-selves if there were disappointments abroad.

It is not the object of this work to give adescription of Derbyshire, nor of any of theremarkable places through which their routethither lay; Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Ke-nilworth, Birmingham, etc. are sufficientlyknown. A small part of Derbyshire is allthe present concern. To the little town ofLambton, the scene of Mrs. Gardiner’s formerresidence, and where she had lately learnedsome acquaintance still remained, they benttheir steps, after having seen all the princi-pal wonders of the country; and within fivemiles of Lambton, Elizabeth found from heraunt that Pemberley was situated. It was not

Chapter 42 345

in their direct road, nor more than a mile ortwo out of it. In talking over their route theevening before, Mrs. Gardiner expressed aninclination to see the place again. Mr. Gar-diner declared his willingness, and Elizabethwas applied to for her approbation.

“My love, should not you like to see a placeof which you have heard so much?” said heraunt; “a place, too, with which so many ofyour acquaintances are connected. Wickhampassed all his youth there, you know.”

Elizabeth was distressed. She felt thatshe had no business at Pemberley, and wasobliged to assume a disinclination for seeingit. She must own that she was tired of seeinggreat houses; after going over so many, she re-ally had no pleasure in fine carpets or satincurtains.

Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. “If itwere merely a fine house richly furnished,”said she, “I should not care about it myself;but the grounds are delightful. They havesome of the finest woods in the country.”

Elizabeth said no more—but her mindcould not acquiesce. The possibility of meetingMr. Darcy, while viewing the place, instantlyoccurred. It would be dreadful! She blushedat the very idea, and thought it would be bet-ter to speak openly to her aunt than to runsuch a risk. But against this there were ob-jections; and she finally resolved that it couldbe the last resource, if her private inquiries tothe absence of the family were unfavourablyanswered.

Accordingly, when she retired at night, she


asked the chambermaid whether Pemberleywere not a very fine place? what was the nameof its proprietor? and, with no little alarm,whether the family were down for the sum-mer? A most welcome negative followed thelast question—and her alarms now being re-moved, she was at leisure to feel a great dealof curiosity to see the house herself; and whenthe subject was revived the next morning, andshe was again applied to, could readily an-swer, and with a proper air of indifference,that she had not really any dislike to thescheme. To Pemberley, therefore, they wereto go.

Chapter 43

Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched forthe first appearance of Pemberley Woods withsome perturbation; and when at length theyturned in at the lodge, her spirits were in ahigh flutter.

The park was very large, and containedgreat variety of ground. They entered it inone of its lowest points, and drove for sometime through a beautiful wood stretching overa wide extent.

Elizabeth’s mind was too full for conversa-tion, but she saw and admired every remark-able spot and point of view. They gradually as-cended for half-a-mile, and then found them-selves at the top of a considerable eminence,where the wood ceased, and the eye was in-stantly caught by Pemberley House, situatedon the opposite side of a valley, into which theroad with some abruptness wound. It wasa large, handsome stone building, standingwell on rising ground, and backed by a ridgeof high woody hills; and in front, a streamof some natural importance was swelled intogreater, but without any artificial appearance.Its banks were neither formal nor falsely

347


adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She hadnever seen a place for which nature had donemore, or where natural beauty had been so lit-tle counteracted by an awkward taste. Theywere all of them warm in their admiration;and at that moment she felt that to be mis-tress of Pemberley might be something!

They descended the hill, crossed thebridge, and drove to the door; and, while ex-amining the nearer aspect of the house, all herapprehension of meeting its owner returned.She dreaded lest the chambermaid had beenmistaken. On applying to see the place, theywere admitted into the hall; and Elizabeth, asthey waited for the housekeeper, had leisureto wonder at her being where she was.

The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking elderly woman, much less fine, andmore civil, than she had any notion of find-ing her. They followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well proportionedroom, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, af-ter slightly surveying it, went to a windowto enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned withwood, which they had descended, receivingincreased abruptness from the distance, wasa beautiful object. Every disposition of theground was good; and she looked on the wholescene, the river, the trees scattered on itsbanks and the winding of the valley, as faras she could trace it, with delight. As theypassed into other rooms these objects weretaking different positions; but from every win-dow there were beauties to be seen. Therooms were lofty and handsome, and their fur-

Chapter 43 349

niture suitable to the fortune of its propri-etor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration of histaste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselesslyfine; with less of splendour, and more real ele-gance, than the furniture of Rosings.

“And of this place,” thought she, “I mighthave been mistress! With these rooms I mightnow have been familiarly acquainted! Insteadof viewing them as a stranger, I might haverejoiced in them as my own, and welcomedto them as visitors my uncle and aunt. Butno,”—recollecting herself—“that could neverbe; my uncle and aunt would have been lostto me; I should not have been allowed to in-vite them.”

This was a lucky recollection—it saved herfrom something very like regret.

She longed to inquire of the housekeeperwhether her master was really absent, buthad not the courage for it. At length however,the question was asked by her uncle; and sheturned away with alarm, while Mrs. Reynoldsreplied that he was, adding, “But we expecthim to-morrow, with a large party of friends.”How rejoiced was Elizabeth that their ownjourney had not by any circumstance been de-layed a day!

Her aunt now called her to look at a pic-ture. She approached and saw the likenessof Mr. Wickham, suspended, amongst severalother miniatures, over the mantelpiece. Heraunt asked her, smilingly, how she liked it.The housekeeper came forward, and told themit was a picture of a young gentleman, the sonof her late master’s steward, who had been


brought up by him at his own expense. “Heis now gone into the army,” she added; “but Iam afraid he has turned out very wild.”

Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with asmile, but Elizabeth could not return it.

“And that,” said Mrs. Reynolds, point-ing to another of the miniatures, “is mymaster—and very like him. It was drawn atthe same time as the other—about eight yearsago.”

“I have heard much of your master’s fineperson,” said Mrs. Gardiner, looking at thepicture; “it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, youcan tell us whether it is like or not.”

Mrs. Reynolds respect for Elizabethseemed to increase on this intimation of herknowing her master.

“Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?”Elizabeth coloured, and said: “A little.”“And do not you think him a very hand-

some gentleman, ma’am?”“Yes, very handsome.”“I am sure I know none so handsome; but

in the gallery upstairs you will see a finer,larger picture of him than this. This room wasmy late master’s favourite room, and theseminiatures are just as they used to be then.He was very fond of them.”

This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wick-ham’s being among them.

Mrs. Reynolds then directed their atten-tion to one of Miss Darcy, drawn when she wasonly eight years old.

“And is Miss Darcy as handsome as herbrother?” said Mrs. Gardiner.

Chapter 43 351

“Oh! yes—the handsomest young lady thatever was seen; and so accomplished!—Sheplays and sings all day long. In the nextroom is a new instrument just come down forher—a present from my master; she comeshere to-morrow with him.”

Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were veryeasy and pleasant, encouraged her commu-nicativeness by his questions and remarks;Mrs. Reynolds, either by pride or attachment,had evidently great pleasure in talking of hermaster and his sister.

“Is your master much at Pemberley in thecourse of the year?”

“Not so much as I could wish, sir; but Idare say he may spend half his time here; andMiss Darcy is always down for the summermonths.”

“Except,” thought Elizabeth, “when shegoes to Ramsgate.”

“If your master would marry, you mightsee more of him.”

“Yes, sir; but I do not know when that willbe. I do not know who is good enough for him.”

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled. Elizabethcould not help saying, “It is very much to hiscredit, I am sure, that you should think so.”

“I say no more than the truth, and every-body will say that knows him,” replied theother. Elizabeth thought this was going prettyfar; and she listened with increasing astonish-ment as the housekeeper added, “I have neverknown a cross word from him in my life, and Ihave known him ever since he was four yearsold.”


This was praise, of all others most extraor-dinary, most opposite to her ideas. That hewas not a good-tempered man had been herfirmest opinion. Her keenest attention wasawakened; she longed to hear more, and wasgrateful to her uncle for saying:

“There are very few people of whom somuch can be said. You are lucky in havingsuch a master.”

“Yes, sir, I know I am. If I were to gothrough the world, I could not meet with a bet-ter. But I have always observed, that they whoare good-natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and he was al-ways the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the world.”

Elizabeth almost stared at her. “Can thisbe Mr. Darcy?” thought she.

“His father was an excellent man,” saidMrs. Gardiner.

“Yes, ma’am, that he was indeed; and hisson will be just like him—just as affable to thepoor.”

Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted,and was impatient for more. Mrs. Reynoldscould interest her on no other point. She re-lated the subjects of the pictures, the dimen-sions of the rooms, and the price of the fur-niture, in vain, Mr. Gardiner, highly amusedby the kind of family prejudice to which heattributed her excessive commendation of hermaster, soon led again to the subject; and shedwelt with energy on his many merits as theyproceeded together up the great staircase.

“He is the best landlord, and the best mas-

Chapter 43 353

ter,” said she, “that ever lived; not like thewild young men nowadays, who think of noth-ing but themselves. There is not one of histenants or servants but will give him a goodname. Some people call him proud; but I amsure I never saw anything of it. To my fancy,it is only because he does not rattle away likeother young men.”

“In what an amiable light does this placehim!” thought Elizabeth.

“This fine account of him,” whispered heraunt as they walked, “is not quite consistentwith his behaviour to our poor friend.”

“Perhaps we might be deceived.”“That is not very likely; our authority was

too good.”On reaching the spacious lobby above they

were shown into a very pretty sitting-room,lately fitted up with greater elegance andlightness than the apartments below; andwere informed that it was but just done to givepleasure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a lik-ing to the room when last at Pemberley.

“He is certainly a good brother,” said Eliz-abeth, as she walked towards one of the win-dows.

Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy’s de-light, when she should enter the room. “Andthis is always the way with him,” she added.“Whatever can give his sister any pleasure issure to be done in a moment. There is nothinghe would not do for her.”

The picture-gallery, and two or three of theprincipal bedrooms, were all that remainedto be shown. In the former were many good


paintings; but Elizabeth knew nothing of theart; and from such as had been already vis-ible below, she had willingly turned to lookat some drawings of Miss Darcy’s, in crayons,whose subjects were usually more interesting,and also more intelligible.

In the gallery there were many family por-traits, but they could have little to fix the at-tention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked inquest of the only face whose features would beknown to her. At last it arrested her—and shebeheld a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy,with such a smile over the face as she re-membered to have sometimes seen when helooked at her. She stood several minutesbefore the picture, in earnest contemplation,and returned to it again before they quittedthe gallery. Mrs. Reynolds informed them thatit had been taken in his father’s lifetime.

There was certainly at this moment, inElizabeth’s mind, a more gentle sensation to-wards the original than she had ever felt atthe height of their acquaintance. The com-mendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynoldswas of no trifling nature. What praise is morevaluable than the praise of an intelligent ser-vant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, sheconsidered how many people’s happiness werein his guardianship!—how much of pleasureor pain was it in his power to bestow!—howmuch of good or evil must be done by him!Every idea that had been brought forward bythe housekeeper was favourable to his char-acter, and as she stood before the canvas onwhich he was represented, and fixed his eyes

Chapter 43 355

upon herself, she thought of his regard with adeeper sentiment of gratitude than it had everraised before; she remembered its warmth,and softened its impropriety of expression.

When all of the house that was open to gen-eral inspection had been seen, they returneddownstairs, and, taking leave of the house-keeper, were consigned over to the gardener,who met them at the hall-door.

As they walked across the hall towards theriver, Elizabeth turned back to look again;her uncle and aunt stopped also, and whilethe former was conjecturing as to the date ofthe building, the owner of it himself suddenlycame forward from the road, which led behindit to the stables.

They were within twenty yards of eachother, and so abrupt was his appearance, thatit was impossible to avoid his sight. Theireyes instantly met, and the cheeks of bothwere overspread with the deepest blush. Heabsolutely started, and for a moment seemedimmovable from surprise; but shortly recover-ing himself, advanced towards the party, andspoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfectcomposure, at least of perfect civility.

She had instinctively turned away; butstopping on his approach, received his com-pliments with an embarrassment impossibleto be overcome. Had his first appearance, orhis resemblance to the picture they had justbeen examining, been insufficient to assurethe other two that they now saw Mr. Darcy,the gardener’s expression of surprise, on be-holding his master, must immediately have


told it. They stood a little aloof while he wastalking to their niece, who, astonished andconfused, scarcely dared lift her eyes to hisface, and knew not what answer she returnedto his civil inquiries after her family. Amazedat the alteration of his manner since they lastparted, every sentence that he uttered was in-creasing her embarrassment; and every ideaof the impropriety of her being found there re-curring to her mind, the few minutes in whichthey continued were some of the most uncom-fortable in her life. Nor did he seem muchmore at ease; when he spoke, his accent hadnone of its usual sedateness; and he repeatedhis inquiries as to the time of her having leftLongbourn, and of her having stayed in Der-byshire, so often, and in so hurried a way, asplainly spoke the distraction of his thoughts.

At length every idea seemed to fail him;and, after standing a few moments withoutsaying a word, he suddenly recollected him-self, and took leave.

The others then joined her, and expressedadmiration of his figure; but Elizabeth heardnot a word, and wholly engrossed by her ownfeelings, followed them in silence. She wasoverpowered by shame and vexation. Hercoming there was the most unfortunate, themost ill-judged thing in the world! Howstrange it must appear to him! In what adisgraceful light might it not strike so vain aman! It might seem as if she had purposelythrown herself in his way again! Oh! why didshe come? Or, why did he thus come a daybefore he was expected? Had they been only

Chapter 43 357

ten minutes sooner, they should have been be-yond the reach of his discrimination; for itwas plain that he was that moment arrived––that moment alighted from his horse or hiscarriage. She blushed again and again overthe perverseness of the meeting. And his be-haviour, so strikingly altered—what could itmean? That he should even speak to her wasamazing!—but to speak with such civility, toinquire after her family! Never in her life hadshe seen his manners so little dignified, neverhad he spoken with such gentleness as on thisunexpected meeting. What a contrast did it of-fer to his last address in Rosings Park, whenhe put his letter into her hand! She knew notwhat to think, or how to account for it.

They had now entered a beautiful walkby the side of the water, and every step wasbringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or afiner reach of the woods to which they wereapproaching; but it was some time before Eliz-abeth was sensible of any of it; and, thoughshe answered mechanically to the repeatedappeals of her uncle and aunt, and seemed todirect her eyes to such objects as they pointedout, she distinguished no part of the scene.Her thoughts were all fixed on that one spotof Pemberley House, whichever it might be,where Mr. Darcy then was. She longed toknow what at the moment was passing in hismind—in what manner he thought of her, andwhether, in defiance of everything, she wasstill dear to him. Perhaps he had been civilonly because he felt himself at ease; yet therehad been that in his voice which was not like


ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or ofpleasure in seeing her she could not tell, buthe certainly had not seen her with composure.

At length, however, the remarks of hercompanions on her absence of mind arousedher, and she felt the necessity of appearingmore like herself.

They entered the woods, and bidding adieuto the river for a while, ascended some ofthe higher grounds; when, in spots where theopening of the trees gave the eye power towander, were many charming views of the val-ley, the opposite hills, with the long range ofwoods overspreading many, and occasionallypart of the stream. Mr. Gardiner expresseda wish of going round the whole park, butfeared it might be beyond a walk. With atriumphant smile they were told that it wasten miles round. It settled the matter; andthey pursued the accustomed circuit; whichbrought them again, after some time, in adescent among hanging woods, to the edgeof the water, and one of its narrowest parts.They crossed it by a simple bridge, in charac-ter with the general air of the scene; it was aspot less adorned than any they had yet vis-ited; and the valley, here contracted into aglen, allowed room only for the stream, anda narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-woodwhich bordered it. Elizabeth longed to exploreits windings; but when they had crossed thebridge, and perceived their distance from thehouse, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a greatwalker, could go no farther, and thought onlyof returning to the carriage as quickly as pos-

Chapter 43 359

sible. Her niece was, therefore, obliged tosubmit, and they took their way towards thehouse on the opposite side of the river, in thenearest direction; but their progress was slow,for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to in-dulge the taste, was very fond of fishing, andwas so much engaged in watching the occa-sional appearance of some trout in the water,and talking to the man about them, that headvanced but little. Whilst wandering on inthis slow manner, they were again surprised,and Elizabeth’s astonishment was quite equalto what it had been at first, by the sight ofMr. Darcy approaching them, and at no greatdistance. The walk here being here less shel-tered than on the other side, allowed them tosee him before they met. Elizabeth, howeverastonished, was at least more prepared for aninterview than before, and resolved to appearand to speak with calmness, if he really in-tended to meet them. For a few moments, in-deed, she felt that he would probably strikeinto some other path. The idea lasted while aturning in the walk concealed him from theirview; the turning past, he was immediatelybefore them. With a glance, she saw that hehad lost none of his recent civility; and, to im-itate his politeness, she began, as they met,to admire the beauty of the place; but shehad not got beyond the words “delightful,” and“charming,” when some unlucky recollectionsobtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pem-berley from her might be mischievously con-strued. Her colour changed, and she said nomore.


Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little be-hind; and on her pausing, he asked her ifshe would do him the honour of introducinghim to her friends. This was a stroke of civil-ity for which she was quite unprepared; andshe could hardly suppress a smile at his beingnow seeking the acquaintance of some of thosevery people against whom his pride had re-volted in his offer to herself. “What will be hissurprise,” thought she, “when he knows whothey are? He takes them now for people offashion.”

The introduction, however, was immedi-ately made; and as she named their relation-ship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, tosee how he bore it, and was not without the ex-pectation of his decamping as fast as he couldfrom such disgraceful companions. That hewas surprised by the connection was evident;he sustained it, however, with fortitude, andso far from going away, turned his back withthem, and entered into conversation with Mr.Gardiner. Elizabeth could not but be pleased,could not but triumph. It was consoling thathe should know she had some relations forwhom there was no need to blush. She lis-tened most attentively to all that passed be-tween them, and gloried in every expression,every sentence of her uncle, which marked hisintelligence, his taste, or his good manners.

The conversation soon turned upon fish-ing; and she heard Mr. Darcy invite him, withthe greatest civility, to fish there as often ashe chose while he continued in the neighbour-hood, offering at the same time to supply him

Chapter 43 361

with fishing tackle, and pointing out thoseparts of the stream where there was usuallymost sport. Mrs. Gardiner, who was walkingarm-in-arm with Elizabeth, gave her a lookexpressive of wonder. Elizabeth said noth-ing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the com-pliment must be all for herself. Her aston-ishment, however, was extreme, and contin-ually was she repeating, “Why is he so al-tered? From what can it proceed? It can-not be for me—it cannot be for my sake thathis manners are thus softened. My reproofsat Hunsford could not work such a change asthis. It is impossible that he should still loveme.”

After walking some time in this way, thetwo ladies in front, the two gentlemen behind,on resuming their places, after descending tothe brink of the river for the better inspectionof some curious water-plant, there chanced tobe a little alteration. It originated in Mrs.Gardiner, who, fatigued by the exercise of themorning, found Elizabeth’s arm inadequate toher support, and consequently preferred herhusband’s. Mr. Darcy took her place by herniece, and they walked on together. After ashort silence, the lady first spoke. She wishedhim to know that she had been assured of hisabsence before she came to the place, and ac-cordingly began by observing, that his arrivalhad been very unexpected—“for your house-keeper,” she added, “informed us that youwould certainly not be here till to-morrow;and indeed, before we left Bakewell, we un-derstood that you were not immediately ex-


pected in the country.” He acknowledged thetruth of it all, and said that business withhis steward had occasioned his coming for-ward a few hours before the rest of the partywith whom he had been travelling. “They willjoin me early to-morrow,” he continued, “andamong them are some who will claim an ac-quaintance with you—Mr. Bingley and his sis-ters.”

Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow.Her thoughts were instantly driven back tothe time when Mr. Bingley’s name had beenthe last mentioned between them; and, if shemight judge by his complexion, his mind wasnot very differently engaged.

“There is also one other person in theparty,” he continued after a pause, “who moreparticularly wishes to be known to you. Willyou allow me, or do I ask too much, to intro-duce my sister to your acquaintance duringyour stay at Lambton?”

The surprise of such an application wasgreat indeed; it was too great for her to knowin what manner she acceded to it. She imme-diately felt that whatever desire Miss Darcymight have of being acquainted with her mustbe the work of her brother, and, without look-ing farther, it was satisfactory; it was gratify-ing to know that his resentment had not madehim think really ill of her.

They now walked on in silence, each ofthem deep in thought. Elizabeth was not com-fortable; that was impossible; but she wasflattered and pleased. His wish of introduc-ing his sister to her was a compliment of the

Chapter 43 363

highest kind. They soon outstripped the oth-ers, and when they had reached the carriage,Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter ofa mile behind.

He then asked her to walk into thehouse—but she declared herself not tired, andthey stood together on the lawn. At sucha time much might have been said, and si-lence was very awkward. She wanted to talk,but there seemed to be an embargo on everysubject. At last she recollected that she hadbeen travelling, and they talked of Matlockand Dove Dale with great perseverance. Yettime and her aunt moved slowly—and her pa-tience and her ideas were nearly worn our be-fore the tete-a-tete was over. On Mr. and Mrs.Gardiner’s coming up they were all pressed togo into the house and take some refreshment;but this was declined, and they parted oneach side with utmost politeness. Mr. Darcyhanded the ladies into the carriage; and whenit drove off, Elizabeth saw him walking slowlytowards the house.

The observations of her uncle and auntnow began; and each of them pronounced himto be infinitely superior to anything they hadexpected. “He is perfectly well behaved, po-lite, and unassuming,” said her uncle.

“There is something a little stately in him,to be sure,” replied her aunt, “but it is confinedto his air, and is not unbecoming. I can nowsay with the housekeeper, that though somepeople may call him proud, I have seen noth-ing of it.”

“I was never more surprised than by his


behaviour to us. It was more than civil; itwas really attentive; and there was no neces-sity for such attention. His acquaintance withElizabeth was very trifling.”

“To be sure, Lizzy,” said her aunt, “he is notso handsome as Wickham; or, rather, he hasnot Wickham’s countenance, for his featuresare perfectly good. But how came you to tellme that he was so disagreeable?”

Elizabeth excused herself as well as shecould; said that she had liked him better whenthey had met in Kent than before, and thatshe had never seen him so pleasant as thismorning.

“But perhaps he may be a little whimsicalin his civilities,” replied her uncle. “Your greatmen often are; and therefore I shall not takehim at his word, as he might change his mindanother day, and warn me off his grounds.”

Elizabeth felt that they had entirely mis-understood his character, but said nothing.

“From what we have seen of him,” contin-ued Mrs. Gardiner, “I really should not havethought that he could have behaved in so cruela way by anybody as he has done by poorWickham. He has not an ill-natured look.On the contrary, there is something pleasingabout his mouth when he speaks. And there issomething of dignity in his countenance thatwould not give one an unfavourable idea ofhis heart. But, to be sure, the good lady whoshowed us his house did give him a most flam-ing character! I could hardly help laughingaloud sometimes. But he is a liberal master, Isuppose, and that in the eye of a servant com-

Chapter 43 365

prehends every virtue.”Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say

something in vindication of his behaviour toWickham; and therefore gave them to under-stand, in as guarded a manner as she could,that by what she had heard from his relationsin Kent, his actions were capable of a verydifferent construction; and that his characterwas by no means so faulty, nor Wickham’s soamiable, as they had been considered in Hert-fordshire. In confirmation of this, she relatedthe particulars of all the pecuniary transac-tions in which they had been connected, with-out actually naming her authority, but statingit to be such as such as might be relied on.

Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and con-cerned; but as they were now approaching thescene of her former pleasures, every idea gaveway to the charm of recollection; and she wastoo much engaged in pointing out to her hus-band all the interesting spots in its environsto think of anything else. Fatigued as shehad been by the morning’s walk they had nosooner dined than she set off again in questof her former acquaintance, and the eveningwas spent in the satisfactions of a intercourserenewed after many years’ discontinuance.

The occurrences of the day were too fullof interest to leave Elizabeth much attentionfor any of these new friends; and she could donothing but think, and think with wonder, ofMr. Darcy’s civility, and, above all, of his wish-ing her to be acquainted with his sister.

Chapter 44

Elizabeth had settled it that Mr. Darcy wouldbring his sister to visit her the very day af-ter her reaching Pemberley; and was conse-quently resolved not to be out of sight of theinn the whole of that morning. But her conclu-sion was false; for on the very morning aftertheir arrival at Lambton, these visitors came.They had been walking about the place withsome of their new friends, and were just re-turning to the inn to dress themselves for din-ing with the same family, when the sound of acarriage drew them to a window, and they sawa gentleman and a lady in a curricle drivingup the street. Elizabeth immediately recog-nizing the livery, guessed what it meant, andimparted no small degree of her surprise toher relations by acquainting them with thehonour which she expected. Her uncle andaunt were all amazement; and the embar-rassment of her manner as she spoke, joinedto the circumstance itself, and many of thecircumstances of the preceding day, openedto them a new idea on the business. Noth-ing had ever suggested it before, but theyfelt that there was no other way of account-

367


ing for such attentions from such a quarterthan by supposing a partiality for their niece.While these newly-born notions were pass-ing in their heads, the perturbation of Eliz-abeth’s feelings was at every moment increas-ing. She was quite amazed at her own discom-posure; but amongst other causes of disquiet,she dreaded lest the partiality of the brothershould have said too much in her favour; and,more than commonly anxious to please, shenaturally suspected that every power of pleas-ing would fail her.

She retreated from the window, fearful ofbeing seen; and as she walked up and downthe room, endeavouring to compose herself,saw such looks of inquiring surprise in her un-cle and aunt as made everything worse.

Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, andthis formidable introduction took place. Withastonishment did Elizabeth see that her newacquaintance was at least as much embar-rassed as herself. Since her being at Lambton,she had heard that Miss Darcy was exceed-ingly proud; but the observation of a very fewminutes convinced her that she was only ex-ceedingly shy. She found it difficult to obtaineven a word from her beyond a monosyllable.

Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scalethan Elizabeth; and, though little more thansixteen, her figure was formed, and her ap-pearance womanly and graceful. She was lesshandsome than her brother; but there wassense and good humour in her face, and hermanners were perfectly unassuming and gen-tle. Elizabeth, who had expected to find in her

Chapter 44 369

as acute and unembarrassed an observer asever Mr. Darcy had been, was much relievedby discerning such different feelings.

They had not long been together before Mr.Darcy told her that Bingley was also comingto wait on her; and she had barely time to ex-press her satisfaction, and prepare for such avisitor, when Bingley’s quick step was heardon the stairs, and in a moment he enteredthe room. All Elizabeth’s anger against himhad been long done away; but had she stillfelt any, it could hardly have stood its groundagainst the unaffected cordiality with whichhe expressed himself on seeing her again. Heinquired in a friendly, though general way, af-ter her family, and looked and spoke with thesame good-humoured ease that he had everdone.

To Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he was scarcelya less interesting personage than to herself.They had long wished to see him. The wholeparty before them, indeed, excited a lively at-tention. The suspicions which had just arisenof Mr. Darcy and their niece directed theirobservation towards each with an earnestthough guarded inquiry; and they soon drewfrom those inquiries the full conviction thatone of them at least knew what it was to love.Of the lady’s sensations they remained a lit-tle in doubt; but that the gentleman was over-flowing with admiration was evident enough.

Elizabeth, on her side, had much to do.She wanted to ascertain the feelings of each ofher visitors; she wanted to compose her own,and to make herself agreeable to all; and in


the latter object, where she feared most tofail, she was most sure of success, for thoseto whom she endeavoured to give pleasurewere prepossessed in her favour. Bingley wasready, Georgiana was eager, and Darcy deter-mined, to be pleased.

In seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturallyflew to her sister; and, oh! how ardently didshe long to know whether any of his were di-rected in a like manner. Sometimes she couldfancy that he talked less than on former occa-sions, and once or twice pleased herself withthe notion that, as he looked at her, he wastrying to trace a resemblance. But, thoughthis might be imaginary, she could not be de-ceived as to his behaviour to Miss Darcy, whohad been set up as a rival to Jane. No lookappeared on either side that spoke particularregard. Nothing occurred between them thatcould justify the hopes of his sister. On thispoint she was soon satisfied; and two or threelittle circumstances occurred ere they parted,which, in her anxious interpretation, denoteda recollection of Jane not untinctured by ten-derness, and a wish of saying more that mightlead to the mention of her, had he dared. Heobserved to her, at a moment when the otherswere talking together, and in a tone which hadsomething of real regret, that it “was a verylong time since he had had the pleasure of see-ing her;” and, before she could reply, he added,“It is above eight months. We have not metsince the 26th of November, when we were alldancing together at Netherfield.”

Elizabeth was pleased to find his memory

Chapter 44 371

so exact; and he afterwards took occasion toask her, when unattended to by any of therest, whether all her sisters were at Long-bourn. There was not much in the question,nor in the preceding remark; but there was alook and a manner which gave them meaning.

It was not often that she could turn hereyes on Mr. Darcy himself; but, whenever shedid catch a glimpse, she saw an expressionof general complaisance, and in all that hesaid she heard an accent so removed fromhauteur or disdain of his companions, as con-vinced her that the improvement of mannerswhich she had yesterday witnessed howevertemporary its existence might prove, had atleast outlived one day. When she saw himthus seeking the acquaintance and courtingthe good opinion of people with whom anyintercourse a few months ago would havebeen a disgrace—when she saw him thuscivil, not only to herself, but to the very re-lations whom he had openly disdained, andrecollected their last lively scene in HunsfordParsonage—the difference, the change was sogreat, and struck so forcibly on her mind, thatshe could hardly restrain her astonishmentfrom being visible. Never, even in the com-pany of his dear friends at Netherfield, or hisdignified relations at Rosings, had she seenhim so desirous to please, so free from self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now,when no importance could result from the suc-cess of his endeavours, and when even the ac-quaintance of those to whom his attentionswere addressed would draw down the ridicule


and censure of the ladies both of Netherfieldas Rosings.

Their visitors stayed with them above half-an-hour; and when they arose to depart, Mr.Darcy called on his sister to join him in ex-pressing their wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs.Gardiner, and Miss Bennet, to dinner at Pem-berley, before they left the country. MissDarcy, though with a diffidence which markedher little in the habit of giving invitations,readily obeyed. Mrs. Gardiner looked at herniece, desirous of knowing how she, whom theinvitation most concerned, felt disposed as toits acceptance, but Elizabeth had turned awayher head. Presuming however, that this stud-ied avoidance spoke rather a momentary em-barrassment than any dislike of the proposal,and seeing in her husband, who was fond ofsociety, a perfect willingness to accept it, sheventured to engage for her attendance, andthe day after the next was fixed on.

Bingley expressed great pleasure in thecertainty of seeing Elizabeth again, havingstill a great deal to say to her, and many in-quiries to make after all their Hertfordshirefriends. Elizabeth, construing all this into awish of hearing her speak of her sister, waspleased, and on this account, as well as someothers, found herself, when their visitors leftthem, capable of considering the last half-hour with some satisfaction, though while itwas passing, the enjoyment of it had beenlittle. Eager to be alone, and fearful of in-quiries or hints from her uncle and aunt, shestayed with them only long enough to hear

Chapter 44 373

their favourable opinion of Bingley, and thenhurried away to dress.

But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs.Gardiner’s curiosity; it was not their wishto force her communication. It was evidentthat she was much better acquainted with Mr.Darcy than they had before any idea of; it wasevident that he was very much in love withher. They saw much to interest, but nothingto justify inquiry.

Of Mr. Darcy it was now a matter of anxi-ety to think well; and, as far as their acquain-tance reached, there was no fault to find. Theycould not be untouched by his politeness; andhad they drawn his character from their ownfeelings and his servant’s report, without anyreference to any other account, the circle inHertfordshire to which he was known wouldnot have recognized it for Mr. Darcy. Therewas now an interest, however, in believingthe housekeeper; and they soon became sen-sible that the authority of a servant who hadknown him since he was four years old, andwhose own manners indicated respectability,was not to be hastily rejected. Neither hadanything occurred in the intelligence of theirLambton friends that could materially lessenits weight. They had nothing to accuse him ofbut pride; pride he probably had, and if not,it would certainly be imputed by the inhabi-tants of a small market-town where the fam-ily did not visit. It was acknowledged, how-ever, that he was a liberal man, and did muchgood among the poor.

With respect to Wickham, the travellers


soon found that he was not held there in muchestimation; for though the chief of his con-cerns with the son of his patron were imper-fectly understood, it was yet a well-known factthat, on his quitting Derbyshire, he had leftmany debts behind him, which Mr. Darcy af-terwards discharged.

As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were atPemberley this evening more than the last;and the evening, though as it passed it seemedlong, was not long enough to determine herfeelings towards one in that mansion; and shelay awake two whole hours endeavouring tomake them out. She certainly did not hatehim. No; hatred had vanished long ago, andshe had almost as long been ashamed of everfeeling a dislike against him, that could beso called. The respect created by the con-viction of his valuable qualities, though atfirst unwillingly admitted, had for some timeceased to be repugnant to her feeling; andit was now heightened into somewhat of afriendlier nature, by the testimony so highlyin his favour, and bringing forward his dis-position in so amiable a light, which yester-day had produced. But above all, above re-spect and esteem, there was a motive withinher of goodwill which could not be overlooked.It was gratitude; gratitude, not merely forhaving once loved her, but for loving her stillwell enough to forgive all the petulance andacrimony of her manner in rejecting him,and all the unjust accusations accompanyingher rejection. He who, she had been per-suaded, would avoid her as his greatest en-

Chapter 44 375

emy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, mosteager to preserve the acquaintance, and with-out any indelicate display of regard, or anypeculiarity of manner, where their two selvesonly were concerned, was soliciting the goodopinion of her friends, and bent on making herknown to his sister. Such a change in a man ofso much pride exciting not only astonishmentbut gratitude—for to love, ardent love, it mustbe attributed; and as such its impression onher was of a sort to be encouraged, as by nomeans unpleasing, though it could not be ex-actly defined. She respected, she esteemed,she was grateful to him, she felt a real in-terest in his welfare; and she only wanted toknow how far she wished that welfare to de-pend upon herself, and how far it would be forthe happiness of both that she should employthe power, which her fancy told her she stillpossessed, of bringing on her the renewal ofhis addresses.

It had been settled in the evening betweenthe aunt and the niece, that such a strikingcivility as Miss Darcy’s in coming to see themon the very day of her arrival at Pemberley,for she had reached it only to a late break-fast, ought to be imitated, though it could notbe equalled, by some exertion of politeness ontheir side; and, consequently, that it would behighly expedient to wait on her at Pemberleythe following morning. They were, therefore,to go. Elizabeth was pleased; though whenshe asked herself the reason, she had very lit-tle to say in reply.

Mr. Gardiner left them soon after break-


fast. The fishing scheme had been renewedthe day before, and a positive engagementmade of his meeting some of the gentlemenat Pemberley before noon.

Chapter 45

Convinced as Elizabeth now was that MissBingley’s dislike of her had originated in jeal-ousy, she could not help feeling how unwel-come her appearance at Pemberley must be toher, and was curious to know with how muchcivility on that lady’s side the acquaintancewould now be renewed.

On reaching the house, they were shownthrough the hall into the saloon, whose north-ern aspect rendered it delightful for summer.Its windows opening to the ground, admitteda most refreshing view of the high woody hillsbehind the house, and of the beautiful oaksand Spanish chestnuts which were scatteredover the intermediate lawn.

In this house they were received by MissDarcy, who was sitting there with Mrs. Hurstand Miss Bingley, and the lady with whomshe lived in London. Georgiana’s receptionof them was very civil, but attended with allthe embarrassment which, though proceed-ing from shyness and the fear of doing wrong,would easily give to those who felt themselvesinferior the belief of her being proud and re-served. Mrs. Gardiner and her niece, however,

377


did her justice, and pitied her.By Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley they were

noticed only by a curtsey; and, on their be-ing seated, a pause, awkward as such pausesmust always be, succeeded for a few mo-ments. It was first broken by Mrs. Annesley, agenteel, agreeable-looking woman, whose en-deavour to introduce some kind of discourseproved her to be more truly well-bred thaneither of the others; and between her andMrs. Gardiner, with occasional help from Eliz-abeth, the conversation was carried on. MissDarcy looked as if she wished for courageenough to join in it; and sometimes did ven-ture a short sentence when there was leastdanger of its being heard.

Elizabeth soon saw that she was herselfclosely watched by Miss Bingley, and that shecould not speak a word, especially to MissDarcy, without calling her attention. Thisobservation would not have prevented herfrom trying to talk to the latter, had theynot been seated at an inconvenient distance;but she was not sorry to be spared the ne-cessity of saying much. Her own thoughtswere employing her. She expected every mo-ment that some of the gentlemen would en-ter the room. She wished, she feared that themaster of the house might be amongst them;and whether she wished or feared it most, shecould scarcely determine. After sitting in thismanner a quarter of an hour without hear-ing Miss Bingley’s voice, Elizabeth was rousedby receiving from her a cold inquiry after thehealth of her family. She answered with equal

Chapter 45 379

indifference and brevity, and the others saidno more.

The next variation which their visit af-forded was produced by the entrance of ser-vants with cold meat, cake, and a variety ofall the finest fruits in season; but this did nottake place till after many a significant lookand smile from Mrs. Annesley to Miss Darcyhad been given, to remind her of her post.There was now employment for the wholeparty—for though they could not all talk, theycould all eat; and the beautiful pyramids ofgrapes, nectarines, and peaches soon collectedthem round the table.

While thus engaged, Elizabeth had a fairopportunity of deciding whether she mostfeared or wished for the appearance of Mr.Darcy, by the feelings which prevailed on hisentering the room; and then, though but amoment before she had believed her wishesto predominate, she began to regret that hecame.

He had been some time with Mr. Gardiner,who, with two or three other gentlemen fromthe house, was engaged by the river, and hadleft him only on learning that the ladies ofthe family intended a visit to Georgiana thatmorning. No sooner did he appear than Eliz-abeth wisely resolved to be perfectly easy andunembarrassed; a resolution the more neces-sary to be made, but perhaps not the moreeasily kept, because she saw that the sus-picions of the whole party were awakenedagainst them, and that there was scarcely aneye which did not watch his behaviour when


he first came into the room. In no countenancewas attentive curiosity so strongly marked asin Miss Bingley’s, in spite of the smiles whichoverspread her face whenever she spoke toone of its objects; for jealousy had not yetmade her desperate, and her attentions to Mr.Darcy were by no means over. Miss Darcy, onher brother’s entrance, exerted herself muchmore to talk, and Elizabeth saw that he wasanxious for his sister and herself to get ac-quainted, and forwarded as much as possible,every attempt at conversation on either side.Miss Bingley saw all this likewise; and, in theimprudence of anger, took the first opportu-nity of saying, with sneering civility:

“Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the ——shireMilitia removed from Meryton? They must bea great loss to your family.”

In Darcy’s presence she dared not men-tion Wickham’s name; but Elizabeth instantlycomprehended that he was uppermost in herthoughts; and the various recollections con-nected with him gave her a moment’s dis-tress; but exerting herself vigorously to re-pel the ill-natured attack, she presently an-swered the question in a tolerably detachedtone. While she spoke, an involuntary glanceshowed her Darcy, with a heightened complex-ion, earnestly looking at her, and his sisterovercome with confusion, and unable to lift upher eyes. Had Miss Bingley known what painshe was then giving her beloved friend, sheundoubtedly would have refrained from thehint; but she had merely intended to discom-pose Elizabeth by bringing forward the idea

Chapter 45 381

of a man to whom she believed her partial, tomake her betray a sensibility which might in-jure her in Darcy’s opinion, and, perhaps, toremind the latter of all the follies and absur-dities by which some part of her family wereconnected with that corps. Not a syllable hadever reached her of Miss Darcy’s meditatedelopement. To no creature had it been re-vealed, where secrecy was possible, except toElizabeth; and from all Bingley’s connectionsher brother was particularly anxious to con-ceal it, from the very wish which Elizabethhad long ago attributed to him, of their be-coming hereafter her own. He had certainlyformed such a plan, and without meaning thatit should effect his endeavour to separate himfrom Miss Bennet, it is probable that it mightadd something to his lively concern for thewelfare of his friend.

Elizabeth’s collected behaviour, however,soon quieted his emotion; and as Miss Bin-gley, vexed and disappointed, dared not ap-proach nearer to Wickham, Georgiana also re-covered in time, though not enough to be ableto speak any more. Her brother, whose eyeshe feared to meet, scarcely recollected her in-terest in the affair, and the very circumstancewhich had been designed to turn his thoughtsfrom Elizabeth seemed to have fixed them onher more and more cheerfully.

Their visit did not continue long after thequestion and answer above mentioned; andwhile Mr. Darcy was attending them to theircarriage Miss Bingley was venting her feel-ings in criticisms on Elizabeth’s person, be-


haviour, and dress. But Georgiana would notjoin her. Her brother’s recommendation wasenough to ensure her favour; his judgementcould not err. And he had spoken in suchterms of Elizabeth as to leave Georgiana with-out the power of finding her otherwise thanlovely and amiable. When Darcy returned tothe saloon, Miss Bingley could not help re-peating to him some part of what she had beensaying to his sister.

“How very ill Miss Eliza Bennet looks thismorning, Mr. Darcy,” she cried; “I never in mylife saw anyone so much altered as she is sincethe winter. She is grown so brown and coarse!Louisa and I were agreeing that we should nothave known her again.”

However little Mr. Darcy might have likedsuch an address, he contented himself withcoolly replying that he perceived no other al-teration than her being rather tanned, nomiraculous consequence of travelling in thesummer.

“For my own part,” she rejoined, “I mustconfess that I never could see any beauty inher. Her face is too thin; her complexion hasno brilliancy; and her features are not at allhandsome. Her nose wants character—thereis nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth aretolerable, but not out of the common way;and as for her eyes, which have sometimesbeen called so fine, I could never see anythingextraordinary in them. They have a sharp,shrewish look, which I do not like at all; andin her air altogether there is a self-sufficiencywithout fashion, which is intolerable.”

Chapter 45 383

Persuaded as Miss Bingley was that Darcyadmired Elizabeth, this was not the bestmethod of recommending herself; but angrypeople are not always wise; and in seeing himat last look somewhat nettled, she had allthe success she expected. He was resolutelysilent, however, and, from a determination ofmaking him speak, she continued:

“I remember, when we first knew her inHertfordshire, how amazed we all were to findthat she was a reputed beauty; and I partic-ularly recollect your saying one night, afterthey had been dining at Netherfield, ‘She abeauty!—I should as soon call her mother awit.’ But afterwards she seemed to improveon you, and I believe you thought her ratherpretty at one time.”

“Yes,” replied Darcy, who could containhimself no longer, “but that was only when Ifirst saw her, for it is many months since Ihave considered her as one of the handsomestwomen of my acquaintances.”

He then went away, and Miss Bingley wasleft to all the satisfaction of having forced himto say what gave no one any pain but herself.

Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth talked of allthat had occurred during their visit, as theyreturned, except what had particularly inter-ested them both. The look and behaviour ofeverybody they had seen were discussed, ex-cept of the person who had mostly engagedtheir attention. They talked of his sister, hisfriends, his house, his fruit—of everything buthimself; yet Elizabeth was longing to knowwhat Mrs. Gardiner thought of him, and Mrs.


Gardiner would have been highly gratified byher niece’s beginning the subject.

Chapter 46

Elizabeth had been a good deal disappointedin not finding a letter from Jane on their firstarrival at Lambton; and this disappointmenthad been renewed on each of the morningsthat had now been spent there; but on thethird her repining was over, and her sister jus-tified, by the receipt of two letters from herat once, on one of which was marked that ithad been missent elsewhere. Elizabeth wasnot surprised at it, as Jane had written thedirection remarkably ill.

They had just been preparing to walk asthe letters came in; and her uncle and aunt,leaving her to enjoy them in quiet, set offby themselves. The one missent must firstbe attended to; it had been written five daysago. The beginning contained an account ofall their little parties and engagements, withsuch news as the country afforded; but the lat-ter half, which was dated a day later, and writ-ten in evident agitation, gave more importantintelligence. It was to this effect:

“Since writing the above, dear-est Lizzy, something has occurredof a most unexpected and serious

385


nature; but I am afraid of alarm-ing you—be assured that we areall well. What I have to say re-lates to poor Lydia. An expresscame at twelve last night, justas we were all gone to bed, fromColonel Forster, to inform us thatshe was gone off to Scotland withone of his officers; to own the truth,with Wickham! Imagine our sur-prise. To Kitty, however, it doesnot seem so wholly unexpected. Iam very, very sorry. So impru-dent a match on both sides! ButI am willing to hope the best, andthat his character has been misun-derstood. Thoughtless and indis-creet I can easily believe him, butthis step (and let us rejoice over it)marks nothing bad at heart. Hischoice is disinterested at least, forhe must know my father can giveher nothing. Our poor mother issadly grieved. My father bears itbetter. How thankful am I that wenever let them know what has beensaid against him; we must forgetit ourselves. They were off Satur-day night about twelve, as is con-jectured, but were not missed tillyesterday morning at eight. Theexpress was sent off directly. Mydear Lizzy, they must have passedwithin ten miles of us. ColonelForster gives us reason to expect

Chapter 46 387

him here soon. Lydia left a fewlines for his wife, informing her oftheir intention. I must conclude,for I cannot be long from my poormother. I am afraid you will notbe able to make it out, but I hardlyknow what I have written.”

Without allowing herself time for consid-eration, and scarcely knowing what she felt,Elizabeth on finishing this letter instantlyseized the other, and opening it with the ut-most impatience, read as follows: it had beenwritten a day later than the conclusion of thefirst.

“By this time, my dearest sis-ter, you have received my hurriedletter; I wish this may be moreintelligible, but though not con-fined for time, my head is so be-wildered that I cannot answer forbeing coherent. Dearest Lizzy, Ihardly know what I would write,but I have bad news for you, andit cannot be delayed. Imprudentas the marriage between Mr. Wick-ham and our poor Lydia would be,we are now anxious to be assuredit has taken place, for there isbut too much reason to fear theyare not gone to Scotland. ColonelForster came yesterday, having leftBrighton the day before, not manyhours after the express. Though


Lydia’s short letter to Mrs. F. gavethem to understand that they weregoing to Gretna Green, somethingwas dropped by Denny expressinghis belief that W. never intendedto go there, or to marry Lydia atall, which was repeated to ColonelF., who, instantly taking the alarm,set off from B. intending to tracetheir route. He did trace themeasily to Clapham, but no further;for on entering that place, they re-moved into a hackney coach, anddismissed the chaise that broughtthem from Epsom. All that isknown after this is, that they wereseen to continue the London road. Iknow not what to think. After mak-ing every possible inquiry on thatside of London, Colonel F. cameon into Hertfordshire, anxiously re-newing them at all the turnpikes,and at the inns in Barnet and Hat-field, but without any success—nosuch people had been seen to passthrough. With the kindest con-cern he came on to Longbourn, andbroke his apprehensions to us ina manner most creditable to hisheart. I am sincerely grieved forhim and Mrs. F., but no one canthrow any blame on them. Our dis-tress, my dear Lizzy, is very great.My father and mother believe theworst, but I cannot think so ill of

Chapter 46 389

him. Many circumstances mightmake it more eligible for them to bemarried privately in town than topursue their first plan; and even ifhe could form such a design againsta young woman of Lydia’s connec-tions, which is not likely, can I sup-pose her so lost to everything? Im-possible! I grieve to find, how-ever, that Colonel F. is not disposedto depend upon their marriage; heshook his head when I expressedmy hopes, and said he feared W.was not a man to be trusted. Mypoor mother is really ill, and keepsher room. Could she exert herself,it would be better; but this is notto be expected. And as to my fa-ther, I never in my life saw him soaffected. Poor Kitty has anger forhaving concealed their attachment;but as it was a matter of confidence,one cannot wonder. I am truly glad,dearest Lizzy, that you have beenspared something of these distress-ing scenes; but now, as the firstshock is over, shall I own that I longfor your return? I am not so selfish,however, as to press for it, if incon-venient. Adieu!

I take up my pen again to dowhat I have just told you I wouldnot; but circumstances are suchthat I cannot help earnestly beg-ging you all to come here as soon


as possible. I know my dear un-cle and aunt so well, that I amnot afraid of requesting it, thoughI have still something more to askof the former. My father is goingto London with Colonel Forster in-stantly, to try to discover her. Whathe means to do I am sure I knownot; but his excessive distress willnot allow him to pursue any mea-sure in the best and safest way, andColonel Forster is obliged to be atBrighton again to-morrow evening.In such an exigence, my uncle’s ad-vice and assistance would be every-thing in the world; he will immedi-ately comprehend what I must feel,and I rely upon his goodness.”

“Oh! where, where is my uncle?” cried Eliz-abeth, darting from her seat as she finishedthe letter, in eagerness to follow him, with-out losing a moment of the time so precious;but as she reached the door it was opened bya servant, and Mr. Darcy appeared. Her paleface and impetuous manner made him start,and before he could recover himself to speak,she, in whose mind every idea was supersededby Lydia’s situation, hastily exclaimed, “I begyour pardon, but I must leave you. I must findMr. Gardiner this moment, on business thatcannot be delayed; I have not an instant toloose.”

“Good God! what is the matter?” cried he,with more feeling than politeness; then rec-

Chapter 46 391

ollecting himself, “I will not detain you aminute; but let me, or let the servant go af-ter Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are not wellenough; you cannot go yourself.”

Elizabeth hesitated, but her knees trem-bled under her and she felt how little wouldbe gained by her attempting to pursue them.Calling back the servant, therefore, she com-missioned him, though in so breathless anaccent as made her almost unintelligible, tofetch his master and mistress home instantly.

On his quitting the room she sat down, un-able to support herself, and looking so miser-ably ill, that it was impossible for Darcy toleave her, or to refrain from saying, in a toneof gentleness and commiseration, “Let me callyour maid. Is there nothing you could take togive you present relief? A glass of wine; shallI get you one? You are very ill.”

“No, I thank you,” she replied, endeavour-ing to recover herself. “There is nothing thematter with me. I am quite well; I am only dis-tressed by some dreadful news which I havejust received from Longbourn.”

She burst into tears as she alluded to it,and for a few minutes could not speak anotherword. Darcy, in wretched suspense, couldonly say something indistinctly of his concern,and observe her in compassionate silence. Atlength she spoke again. “I have just had aletter from Jane, with such dreadful news. Itcannot be concealed from anyone. My youngersister has left all her friends—has eloped;has thrown herself into the power of—of Mr.Wickham. They are gone off together from


Brighton. You know him too well to doubtthe rest. She has no money, no connections,nothing that can tempt him to—she is lost forever.”

Darcy was fixed in astonishment. “WhenI consider,” she added in a yet more agitatedvoice, “that I might have prevented it! I, whoknew what he was. Had I but explained somepart of it only—some part of what I learnt,to my own family! Had his character beenknown, this could not have happened. But itis all—all too late now.”

“I am grieved indeed,” cried Darcy;“grieved — shocked. But is it certain — ab-solutely certain?”

“Oh, yes! They left Brighton together onSunday night, and were traced almost to Lon-don, but not beyond; they are certainly notgone to Scotland.”

“And what has been done, what has beenattempted, to recover her?”

“My father is gone to London, and Janehas written to beg my uncle’s immediate as-sistance; and we shall be off, I hope, in half-an-hour. But nothing can be done—I knowvery well that nothing can be done. How issuch a man to be worked on? How are theyeven to be discovered? I have not the smallesthope. It is every way horrible!”

Darcy shook his head in silent acquies-cence.

“When my eyes were opened to his realcharacter—Oh! had I known what I ought,what I dared to do! But I knew not—I wasafraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched

Chapter 46 393

mistake!”Darcy made no answer. He seemed

scarcely to hear her, and was walking upand down the room in earnest meditation, hisbrow contracted, his air gloomy. Elizabethsoon observed, and instantly understood it.Her power was sinking; everything must sinkunder such a proof of family weakness, suchan assurance of the deepest disgrace. Shecould neither wonder nor condemn, but thebelief of his self-conquest brought nothing toher consolatory to her bosom, afforded no pal-liation of her distress. It was, on the con-trary, exactly calculated to make her under-stand her own wishes; and never had she sohonestly felt that she could have loved him,as now, when all love must be vain.

But self, though it would intrude, couldnot engross her. Lydia—the humiliation, themisery she was bringing on them all, soonswallowed up every private care; and cover-ing her face with her handkerchief, Elizabethwas soon lost to everything else; and, after apause of several minutes, was only recalled toa sense of her situation by the voice of hercompanion, who, in a manner which, thoughit spoke compassion, spoke likewise restraint,said, “I am afraid you have been long desiringmy absence, nor have I anything to plead inexcuse of my stay, but real, though unavail-ing concern. Would to Heaven that anythingcould be either said or done on my part thatmight offer consolation to such distress! But Iwill not torment you with vain wishes, whichmay seem purposely to ask for your thanks.


This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent mysister’s having the pleasure of seeing you atPemberley to-day.”

“Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologise for usto Miss Darcy. Say that urgent business callsus home immediately. Conceal the unhappytruth as long as it is possible, I know it cannotbe long.”

He readily assured her of his secrecy;again expressed his sorrow for her distress,wished it a happier conclusion than there wasat present reason to hope, and leaving hiscompliments for her relations, with only oneserious, parting look, went away.

As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt howimprobable it was that they should ever seeeach other again on such terms of cordial-ity as had marked their several meetings inDerbyshire; and as she threw a retrospec-tive glance over the whole of their acquain-tance, so full of contradictions and varieties,sighed at the perverseness of those feelingswhich would now have promoted its continu-ance, and would formerly have rejoiced in itstermination.

If gratitude and esteem are good founda-tions of affection, Elizabeth’s change of sen-timent will be neither improbable nor faulty.But if otherwise—if regard springing fromsuch sources is unreasonable or unnatural, incomparison of what is so often described asarising on a first interview with its object, andeven before two words have been exchanged,nothing can be said in her defence, exceptthat she had given somewhat of a trial to the

Chapter 46 395

latter method in her partiality for Wickham,and that its ill success might, perhaps, au-thorise her to seek the other less interestingmode of attachment. Be that as it may, shesaw him go with regret; and in this early ex-ample of what Lydia’s infamy must produce,found additional anguish as she reflected onthat wretched business. Never, since read-ing Jane’s second letter, had she entertaineda hope of Wickham’s meaning to marry her.No one but Jane, she thought, could flatterherself with such an expectation. Surprisewas the least of her feelings on this develop-ment. While the contents of the first letter re-mained in her mind, she was all surprise—allastonishment that Wickham should marry agirl whom it was impossible he could marryfor money; and how Lydia could ever have at-tached him had appeared incomprehensible.But now it was all too natural. For such anattachment as this she might have sufficientcharms; and though she did not suppose Ly-dia to be deliberately engaging in an elope-ment without the intention of marriage, shehad no difficulty in believing that neither hervirtue nor her understanding would preserveher from falling an easy prey.

She had never perceived, while the reg-iment was in Hertfordshire, that Lydia hadany partiality for him; but she was con-vinced that Lydia wanted only encourage-ment to attach herself to anybody. Sometimesone officer, sometimes another, had been herfavourite, as their attentions raised them inher opinion. Her affections had continually


been fluctuating but never without an object.The mischief of neglect and mistaken indul-gence towards such a girl—oh! how acutelydid she now feel it!

She was wild to be at home—to hear, tosee, to be upon the spot to share with Janein the cares that must now fall wholly uponher, in a family so deranged, a father ab-sent, a mother incapable of exertion, and re-quiring constant attendance; and though al-most persuaded that nothing could be donefor Lydia, her uncle’s interference seemed ofthe utmost importance, and till he entered theroom her impatience was severe. Mr. and Mrs.Gardiner had hurried back in alarm, suppos-ing by the servant’s account that their niecewas taken suddenly ill; but satisfying theminstantly on that head, she eagerly commu-nicated the cause of their summons, readingthe two letters aloud, and dwelling on thepostscript of the last with trembling energy,though Lydia had never been a favourite withthem, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could not butbe deeply afflicted. Not Lydia only, but allwere concerned in it; and after the first excla-mations of surprise and horror, Mr. Gardinerpromised every assistance in his power. Eliz-abeth, though expecting no less, thanked himwith tears of gratitude; and all three beingactuated by one spirit, everything relating totheir journey was speedily settled. They wereto be off as soon as possible. “But what is to bedone about Pemberley?” cried Mrs. Gardiner.“John told us Mr. Darcy was here when yousent for us; was it so?”

Chapter 46 397

“Yes; and I told him we should not be ableto keep our engagement. That is all settled.”

“What is all settled?” repeated the other,as she ran into her room to prepare. “And arethey upon such terms as for her to disclose thereal truth? Oh, that I knew how it was!”

But wishes were vain, or at least couldonly serve to amuse her in the hurry and con-fusion of the following hour. Had Elizabethbeen at leisure to be idle, she would have re-mained certain that all employment was im-possible to one so wretched as herself; butshe had her share of business as well as heraunt, and amongst the rest there were notesto be written to all their friends at Lambton,with false excuses for their sudden departure.An hour, however, saw the whole completed;and Mr. Gardiner meanwhile having settledhis account at the inn, nothing remained tobe done but to go; and Elizabeth, after allthe misery of the morning, found herself, ina shorter space of time than she could havesupposed, seated in the carriage, and on theroad to Longbourn.

Chapter 47

“I have been thinking it over again, Eliza-beth,” said her uncle, as they drove from thetown; “and really, upon serious consideration,I am much more inclined than I was to judgeas your eldest sister does on the matter. It ap-pears to me so very unlikely that any youngman should form such a design against a girlwho is by no means unprotected or friendless,and who was actually staying in his colonel’sfamily, that I am strongly inclined to hope thebest. Could he expect that her friends wouldnot step forward? Could he expect to be no-ticed again by the regiment, after such an af-front to Colonel Forster? His temptation is notadequate to the risk!”

“Do you really think so?” cried Elizabeth,brightening up for a moment.

“Upon my word,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “I be-gin to be of your uncle’s opinion. It is really toogreat a violation of decency, honour, and inter-est, for him to be guilty of. I cannot think sovery ill of Wickham. Can you yourself, Lizzy,so wholly give him up, as to believe him capa-ble of it?”

“Not, perhaps, of neglecting his own inter-

399


est; but of every other neglect I can believehim capable. If, indeed, it should be so! But Idare not hope it. Why should they not go on toScotland if that had been the case?”

“In the first place,” replied Mr. Gardiner,“there is no absolute proof that they are notgone to Scotland.”

“Oh! but their removing from the chaiseinto a hackney coach is such a presumption!And, besides, no traces of them were to befound on the Barnet road.”

“Well, then—supposing them to be in Lon-don. They may be there, though for the pur-pose of concealment, for no more exceptionalpurpose. It is not likely that money shouldbe very abundant on either side; and it mightstrike them that they could be more econom-ically, though less expeditiously, married inLondon than in Scotland.”

“But why all this secrecy? Why any fearof detection? Why must their marriage beprivate? Oh, no, no—this is not likely. Hismost particular friend, you see by Jane’s ac-count, was persuaded of his never intendingto marry her. Wickham will never marry awoman without some money. He cannot af-ford it. And what claims has Lydia—what at-traction has she beyond youth, health, andgood humour that could make him, for hersake, forego every chance of benefiting himselfby marrying well? As to what restraint theapprehensions of disgrace in the corps mightthrow on a dishonourable elopement with her,I am not able to judge; for I know nothingof the effects that such a step might produce.

Chapter 47 401

But as to your other objection, I am afraid itwill hardly hold good. Lydia has no brothersto step forward; and he might imagine, frommy father’s behaviour, from his indolence andthe little attention he has ever seemed to giveto what was going forward in his family, thathe would do as little, and think as little aboutit, as any father could do, in such a matter.”

“But can you think that Lydia is so lost toeverything but love of him as to consent to livewith him on any terms other than marriage?”

“It does seem, and it is most shocking in-deed,” replied Elizabeth, with tears in hereyes, “that a sister’s sense of decency andvirtue in such a point should admit of doubt.But, really, I know not what to say. PerhapsI am not doing her justice. But she is veryyoung; she has never been taught to thinkon serious subjects; and for the last half-year,nay, for a twelvemonth—she has been givenup to nothing but amusement and vanity. Shehas been allowed to dispose of her time in themost idle and frivolous manner, and to adoptany opinions that came in her way. Sincethe ——shire were first quartered in Mery-ton, nothing but love, flirtation, and officershave been in her head. She has been doingeverything in her power by thinking and talk-ing on the subject, to give greater—what shallI call it? susceptibility to her feelings; whichare naturally lively enough. And we all knowthat Wickham has every charm of person andaddress that can captivate a woman.”

“But you see that Jane,” said her aunt,“does not think so very ill of Wickham as to


believe him capable of the attempt.”“Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And

who is there, whatever might be their formerconduct, that she would think capable of suchan attempt, till it were proved against them?But Jane knows, as well as I do, what Wick-ham really is. We both know that he has beenprofligate in every sense of the word; that hehas neither integrity nor honour; that he is asfalse and deceitful as he is insinuating.”

“And do you really know all this?” criedMrs. Gardiner, whose curiosity as to the modeof her intelligence was all alive.

“I do indeed,” replied Elizabeth, colouring.“I told you, the other day, of his infamous be-haviour to Mr. Darcy; and you yourself, whenlast at Longbourn, heard in what manner hespoke of the man who had behaved with suchforbearance and liberality towards him. Andthere are other circumstances which I am notat liberty—which it is not worth while to re-late; but his lies about the whole Pemberleyfamily are endless. From what he said ofMiss Darcy I was thoroughly prepared to seea proud, reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet heknew to the contrary himself. He must knowthat she was as amiable and unpretending aswe have found her.”

“But does Lydia know nothing of this? canshe be ignorant of what you and Jane seem sowell to understand?”

“Oh, yes!—that, that is the worst ofall. Till I was in Kent, and saw so muchboth of Mr. Darcy and his relation ColonelFitzwilliam, I was ignorant of the truth my-

Chapter 47 403

self. And when I returned home, the ——shirewas to leave Meryton in a week or fortnight’stime. As that was the case, neither Jane, towhom I related the whole, nor I, thought itnecessary to make our knowledge public; forof what use could it apparently be to any one,that the good opinion which all the neigh-bourhood had of him should then be over-thrown? And even when it was settled thatLydia should go with Mrs. Forster, the neces-sity of opening her eyes to his character neveroccurred to me. That she could be in anydanger from the deception never entered myhead. That such a consequence as this couldensue, you may easily believe, was far enoughfrom my thoughts.”

“When they all removed to Brighton,therefore, you had no reason, I suppose, to be-lieve them fond of each other?”

“Not the slightest. I can remember nosymptom of affection on either side; and hadanything of the kind been perceptible, youmust be aware that ours is not a family onwhich it could be thrown away. When firsthe entered the corps, she was ready enough toadmire him; but so we all were. Every girl inor near Meryton was out of her senses abouthim for the first two months; but he neverdistinguished her by any particular attention;and, consequently, after a moderate period ofextravagant and wild admiration, her fancyfor him gave way, and others of the regiment,who treated her with more distinction, againbecame her favourites.”


It may be easily believed, that howeverlittle of novelty could be added to theirfears, hopes, and conjectures, on this inter-esting subject, by its repeated discussion, noother could detain them from it long, duringthe whole of the journey. From Elizabeth’sthoughts it was never absent. Fixed there bythe keenest of all anguish, self-reproach, shecould find no interval of ease or forgetfulness.

They travelled as expeditiously as possible,and, sleeping one night on the road, reachedLongbourn by dinner time the next day. It wasa comfort to Elizabeth to consider that Janecould not have been wearied by long expecta-tions.

The little Gardiners, attracted by the sightof a chaise, were standing on the steps of thehouse as they entered the paddock; and, whenthe carriage drove up to the door, the joyfulsurprise that lighted up their faces, and dis-played itself over their whole bodies, in a vari-ety of capers and frisks, was the first pleasingearnest of their welcome.

Elizabeth jumped out; and, after givingeach of them a hasty kiss, hurried into thevestibule, where Jane, who came runningdown from her mother’s apartment, immedi-ately met her.

Elizabeth, as she affectionately embracedher, whilst tears filled the eyes of both, lostnot a moment in asking whether anything hadbeen heard of the fugitives.

“Not yet,” replied Jane. “But now that mydear uncle is come, I hope everything will bewell.”

Chapter 47 405

“Is my father in town?”“Yes, he went on Tuesday, as I wrote you

word.”“And have you heard from him often?”“We have heard only twice. He wrote me a

few lines on Wednesday to say that he had ar-rived in safety, and to give me his directions,which I particularly begged him to do. Hemerely added that he should not write againtill he had something of importance to men-tion.”

“And my mother—how is she? How are youall?”

“My mother is tolerably well, I trust;though her spirits are greatly shaken. Sheis upstairs and will have great satisfaction inseeing you all. She does not yet leave herdressing-room. Mary and Kitty are, thankHeaven, are quite well.”

“But you—how are you?” cried Elizabeth.“You look pale. How much you must have gonethrough!”

Her sister, however, assured her of herbeing perfectly well; and their conversation,which had been passing while Mr. and Mrs.Gardiner were engaged with their children,was now put an end to by the approach of thewhole party. Jane ran to her uncle and aunt,and welcomed and thanked them both, withalternate smiles and tears.

When they were all in the drawing-room,the questions which Elizabeth had alreadyasked were of course repeated by the others,and they soon found that Jane had no intel-ligence to give. The sanguine hope of good,


however, which the benevolence of her heartsuggested had not yet deserted her; she stillexpected that it would all end well, and thatevery morning would bring some letter, eitherfrom Lydia or her father, to explain their pro-ceedings, and, perhaps, announce their mar-riage.

Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they allrepaired, after a few minutes’ conversationtogether, received them exactly as might beexpected; with tears and lamentations of re-gret, invectives against the villainous conductof Wickham, and complaints of her own suf-ferings and ill-usage; blaming everybody butthe person to whose ill-judging indulgence theerrors of her daughter must principally be ow-ing.

“If I had been able,” said she, “to carry mypoint in going to Brighton, with all my fam-ily, this would not have happened; but poordear Lydia had nobody to take care of her.Why did the Forsters ever let her go out oftheir sight? I am sure there was some greatneglect or other on their side, for she is notthe kind of girl to do such a thing if she hadbeen well looked after. I always thought theywere very unfit to have the charge of her; butI was overruled, as I always am. Poor dearchild! And now here’s Mr. Bennet gone away,and I know he will fight Wickham, whereverhe meets him and then he will be killed, andwhat is to become of us all? The Collinses willturn us out before he is cold in his grave, andif you are not kind to us, brother, I do not knowwhat we shall do.”

Chapter 47 407

They all exclaimed against such terrificideas; and Mr. Gardiner, after general assur-ances of his affection for her and all her fam-ily, told her that he meant to be in London thevery next day, and would assist Mr. Bennet inevery endeavour for recovering Lydia.

“Do not give way to useless alarm,” addedhe; “though it is right to be prepared for theworst, there is no occasion to look on it as cer-tain. It is not quite a week since they leftBrighton. In a few days more we may gainsome news of them; and till we know that theyare not married, and have no design of mar-rying, do not let us give the matter over aslost. As soon as I get to town I shall go to mybrother, and make him come home with me toGracechurch Street; and then we may consulttogether as to what is to be done.”

“Oh! my dear brother,” replied Mrs. Ben-net, “that is exactly what I could most wishfor. And now do, when you get to town, findthem out, wherever they may be; and if theyare not married already, make them marry.And as for wedding clothes, do not let themwait for that, but tell Lydia she shall have asmuch money as she chooses to buy them, af-ter they are married. And, above all, keep Mr.Bennet from fighting. Tell him what a dread-ful state I am in, that I am frighted out of mywits—and have such tremblings, such flutter-ings, all over me—such spasms in my side andpains in my head, and such beatings at heart,that I can get no rest by night nor by day. Andtell my dear Lydia not to give any directionsabout her clothes till she has seen me, for she


does not know which are the best warehouses.Oh, brother, how kind you are! I know youwill contrive it all.”

But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured heragain of his earnest endeavours in the cause,could not avoid recommending moderation toher, as well in her hopes as her fear; and af-ter talking with her in this manner till dinnerwas on the table, they all left her to vent allher feelings on the housekeeper, who attendedin the absence of her daughters.

Though her brother and sister were per-suaded that there was no real occasion forsuch a seclusion from the family, they did notattempt to oppose it, for they knew that shehad not prudence enough to hold her tonguebefore the servants, while they waited at ta-ble, and judged it better that one only of thehousehold, and the one whom they could mosttrust should comprehend all her fears and so-licitude on the subject.

In the dining-room they were soon joinedby Mary and Kitty, who had been too busilyengaged in their separate apartments to maketheir appearance before. One came from herbooks, and the other from her toilette. Thefaces of both, however, were tolerably calm;and no change was visible in either, exceptthat the loss of her favourite sister, or theanger which she had herself incurred in thisbusiness, had given more of fretfulness thanusual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary, shewas mistress enough of herself to whisper toElizabeth, with a countenance of grave reflec-tion, soon after they were seated at table:

Chapter 47 409

“This is a most unfortunate affair, and willprobably be much talked of. But we must stemthe tide of malice, and pour into the woundedbosoms of each other the balm of sisterly con-solation.”

Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclina-tion of replying, she added, “Unhappy as theevent must be for Lydia, we may draw fromit this useful lesson: that loss of virtue in afemale is irretrievable; that one false step in-volves her in endless ruin; that her reputationis no less brittle than it is beautiful; and thatshe cannot be too much guarded in her be-haviour towards the undeserving of the othersex.”

Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement,but was too much oppressed to make any re-ply. Mary, however, continued to console her-self with such kind of moral extractions fromthe evil before them.

In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Ben-nets were able to be for half-an-hour by them-selves; and Elizabeth instantly availed herselfof the opportunity of making any inquiries,which Jane was equally eager to satisfy. Af-ter joining in general lamentations over thedreadful sequel of this event, which Elizabethconsidered as all but certain, and Miss Ben-net could not assert to be wholly impossible,the former continued the subject, by saying,“But tell me all and everything about it whichI have not already heard. Give me further par-ticulars. What did Colonel Forster say? Hadthey no apprehension of anything before theelopement took place? They must have seen


them together for ever.”“Colonel Forster did own that he had often

suspected some partiality, especially on Ly-dia’s side, but nothing to give him any alarm.I am so grieved for him! His behaviour was at-tentive and kind to the utmost. He was com-ing to us, in order to assure us of his concern,before he had any idea of their not being goneto Scotland: when that apprehension first gotabroad, it hastened his journey.”

“And was Denny convinced that Wickhamwould not marry? Did he know of their in-tending to go off? Had Colonel Forster seenDenny himself?”

“Yes; but, when questioned by him, Dennydenied knowing anything of their plans, andwould not give his real opinion about it. Hedid not repeat his persuasion of their notmarrying—and from that, I am inclined tohope, he might have been misunderstood be-fore.”

“And till Colonel Forster came himself, notone of you entertained a doubt, I suppose, oftheir being really married?”

“How was it possible that such an ideashould enter our brains? I felt a littleuneasy—a little fearful of my sister’s happi-ness with him in marriage, because I knewthat his conduct had not been always quiteright. My father and mother knew nothing ofthat; they only felt how imprudent a match itmust be. Kitty then owned, with a very nat-ural triumph on knowing more than the restof us, that in Lydia’s last letter she had pre-pared her for such a step. She had known, it

Chapter 47 411

seems, of their being in love with each other,many weeks.”

“But not before they went to Brighton?”“No, I believe not.”“And did Colonel Forster appear to think

well of Wickham himself? Does he know hisreal character?”

“I must confess that he did not speak sowell of Wickham as he formerly did. He be-lieved him to be imprudent and extravagant.And since this sad affair has taken place, it issaid that he left Meryton greatly in debt; butI hope this may be false.”

“Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had wetold what we knew of him, this could not havehappened!”

“Perhaps it would have been better,”replied her sister. “But to expose the formerfaults of any person without knowing whattheir present feelings were, seemed unjusti-fiable. We acted with the best intentions.”

“Could Colonel Forster repeat the particu-lars of Lydia’s note to his wife?”

“He brought it with him for us to see.”Jane then took it from her pocket-book,

and gave it to Elizabeth. These were the con-tents:

“MY DEAR HARRIET,“You will laugh when you know

where I am gone, and I cannothelp laughing myself at your sur-prise to-morrow morning, as soonas I am missed. I am going toGretna Green, and if you cannot


guess with who, I shall think you asimpleton, for there is but one manin the world I love, and he is an an-gel. I should never be happy with-out him, so think it no harm to beoff. You need not send them wordat Longbourn of my going, if youdo not like it, for it will make thesurprise the greater, when I writeto them and sign my name ‘LydiaWickham.’ What a good joke it willbe! I can hardly write for laughing.Pray make my excuses to Pratt fornot keeping my engagement, anddancing with him to-night. Tellhim I hope he will excuse me whenhe knows all; and tell him I willdance with him at the next ball wemeet, with great pleasure. I shallsend for my clothes when I get toLongbourn; but I wish you wouldtell Sally to mend a great slit in myworked muslin gown before theyare packed up. Good-bye. Give mylove to Colonel Forster. I hope youwill drink to our good journey.

“Your affectionate friend,“LYDIA BENNET.”

“Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!” criedElizabeth when she had finished it. Whata letter is this, to be written at such a mo-ment! But at least it shows that she was seri-ous on the subject of their journey. Whateverhe might afterwards persuade her to, it was

Chapter 47 413

not on her side a scheme of infamy. My poorfather! how he must have felt it!”

“I never saw anyone so shocked. He couldnot speak a word for full ten minutes. Mymother was taken ill immediately, and thewhole house in such confusion!”

“Oh! Jane,” cried Elizabeth, “was there aservant belonging to it who did not know thewhole story before the end of the day?”

“I do not know. I hope there was. But tobe guarded at such a time is very difficult.My mother was in hysterics, and though I en-deavoured to give her every assistance in mypower, I am afraid I did not do so much asI might have done! But the horror of whatmight possibly happen almost took from memy faculties.”

“Your attendance upon her has been toomuch for you. You do not look well. Oh thatI had been with you! you have had every careand anxiety upon yourself alone.”

“Mary and Kitty have been very kind, andwould have shared in every fatigue, I am sure;but I did not think it right for either of them.Kitty is slight and delicate; and Mary stud-ies so much, that her hours of repose shouldnot be broken in on. My aunt Phillips came toLongbourn on Tuesday, after my father wentaway; and was so good as to stay till Thurs-day with me. She was of great use and com-fort to us all. And Lady Lucas has been verykind; she walked here on Wednesday morningto condole with us, and offered her services, orany of her daughters’, if they should be of useto us.”


“She had better have stayed at home,”cried Elizabeth; “perhaps she meant well, but,under such a misfortune as this, one cannotsee too little of one’s neighbours. Assistance isimpossible; condolence insufferable. Let themtriumph over us at a distance, and be satis-fied.”

She then proceeded to inquire into themeasures which her father had intended topursue, while in town, for the recovery of hisdaughter.

“He meant I believe,” replied Jane, “to goto Epsom, the place where they last changedhorses, see the postilions and try if anythingcould be made out from them. His princi-pal object must be to discover the numberof the hackney coach which took them fromClapham. It had come with a fare from Lon-don; and as he thought that the circumstanceof a gentleman and lady’s removing from onecarriage into another might be remarked hemeant to make inquiries at Clapham. Ifhe could anyhow discover at what house thecoachman had before set down his fare, he de-termined to make inquiries there, and hopedit might not be impossible to find out the standand number of the coach. I do not know of anyother designs that he had formed; but he wasin such a hurry to be gone, and his spirits sogreatly discomposed, that I had difficulty infinding out even so much as this.”

Chapter 48

The whole party were in hopes of a letter fromMr. Bennet the next morning, but the postcame in without bringing a single line fromhim. His family knew him to be, on all com-mon occasions, a most negligent and dilatorycorrespondent; but at such a time they hadhoped for exertion. They were forced to con-clude that he had no pleasing intelligence tosend; but even of that they would have beenglad to be certain. Mr. Gardiner had waitedonly for the letters before he set off.

When he was gone, they were certainat least of receiving constant information ofwhat was going on, and their uncle promised,at parting, to prevail on Mr. Bennet to returnto Longbourn, as soon as he could, to the greatconsolation of his sister, who considered it asthe only security for her husband’s not beingkilled in a duel.

Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to re-main in Hertfordshire a few days longer, asthe former thought her presence might be ser-viceable to her nieces. She shared in theirattendance on Mrs. Bennet, and was a greatcomfort to them in their hours of freedom.

415


Their other aunt also visited them frequently,and always, as she said, with the design ofcheering and heartening them up—though, asshe never came without reporting some freshinstance of Wickham’s extravagance or irreg-ularity, she seldom went away without leavingthem more dispirited than she found them.

All Meryton seemed striving to blacken theman who, but three months before, had beenalmost an angel of light. He was declared to bein debt to every tradesman in the place, andhis intrigues, all honoured with the title of se-duction, had been extended into every trades-man’s family. Everybody declared that he wasthe wickedest young man in the world; andeverybody began to find out that they had al-ways distrusted the appearance of his good-ness. Elizabeth, though she did not creditabove half of what was said, believed enoughto make her former assurance of her sister’sruin more certain; and even Jane, who be-lieved still less of it, became almost hopeless,more especially as the time was now comewhen, if they had gone to Scotland, which shehad never before entirely despaired of, theymust in all probability have gained some newsof them.

Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday;on Tuesday his wife received a letter fromhim; it told them that, on his arrival, he hadimmediately found out his brother, and per-suaded him to come to Gracechurch Street;that Mr. Bennet had been to Epsom andClapham, before his arrival, but without gain-ing any satisfactory information; and that he

Chapter 48 417

was now determined to inquire at all the prin-cipal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet thought itpossible they might have gone to one of them,on their first coming to London, before theyprocured lodgings. Mr. Gardiner himself didnot expect any success from this measure, butas his brother was eager in it, he meant to as-sist him in pursuing it. He added that Mr.Bennet seemed wholly disinclined at presentto leave London and promised to write againvery soon. There was also a postscript to thiseffect:

“I have written to Colonel Forster to de-sire him to find out, if possible, from some ofthe young man’s intimates in the regiment,whether Wickham has any relations or con-nections who would be likely to know in whatpart of town he has now concealed himself.If there were anyone that one could apply towith a probability of gaining such a clue asthat, it might be of essential consequence. Atpresent we have nothing to guide us. ColonelForster will, I dare say, do everything in hispower to satisfy us on this head. But, onsecond thoughts, perhaps, Lizzy could tell uswhat relations he has now living, better thanany other person.”

Elizabeth was at no loss to understandfrom whence this deference to her authorityproceeded; but it was not in her power to giveany information of so satisfactory a natureas the compliment deserved. She had neverheard of his having had any relations, excepta father and mother, both of whom had beendead many years. It was possible, however,


that some of his companions in the ——shiremight be able to give more information; andthough she was not very sanguine in expect-ing it, the application was a something to lookforward to.

Every day at Longbourn was now a dayof anxiety; but the most anxious part of eachwas when the post was expected. The arrivalof letters was the grand object of every morn-ing’s impatience. Through letters, whatever ofgood or bad was to be told would be communi-cated, and every succeeding day was expectedto bring some news of importance.

But before they heard again from Mr. Gar-diner, a letter arrived for their father, from adifferent quarter, from Mr. Collins; which, asJane had received directions to open all thatcame for him in his absence, she accordinglyread; and Elizabeth, who knew what curiosi-ties his letters always were, looked over her,and read it likewise. It was as follows:

“MY DEAR SIR,“I feel myself called upon, by

our relationship, and my situa-tion in life, to condole with youon the grievous affliction you arenow suffering under, of which wewere yesterday informed by a let-ter from Hertfordshire. Be assured,my dear sir, that Mrs. Collinsand myself sincerely sympathisewith you and all your respectablefamily, in your present distress,which must be of the bitterest kind,

Chapter 48 419

because proceeding from a causewhich no time can remove. No ar-guments shall be wanting on mypart that can alleviate so severea misfortune—or that may com-fort you, under a circumstance thatmust be of all others the most af-flicting to a parent’s mind. Thedeath of your daughter would havebeen a blessing in comparison ofthis. And it is the more to belamented, because there is reasonto suppose as my dear Charlotteinforms me, that this licentious-ness of behaviour in your daugh-ter has proceeded from a faulty de-gree of indulgence; though, at thesame time, for the consolation ofyourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am in-clined to think that her own dispo-sition must be naturally bad, or shecould not be guilty of such an enor-mity, at so early an age. Howsoeverthat may be, you are grievously tobe pitied; in which opinion I amnot only joined by Mrs. Collins, butlikewise by Lady Catherine andher daughter, to whom I have re-lated the affair. They agree withme in apprehending that this falsestep in one daughter will be in-jurious to the fortunes of all theothers; for who, as Lady Cather-ine herself condescendingly says,will connect themselves with such


a family? And this considerationleads me moreover to reflect, withaugmented satisfaction, on a cer-tain event of last November; forhad it been otherwise, I must havebeen involved in all your sorrowand disgrace. Let me then adviseyou, dear sir, to console yourself asmuch as possible, to throw off yourunworthy child from your affectionfor ever, and leave her to reap thefruits of her own heinous offense.

“I am, dear sir, etc., etc.”

Mr. Gardiner did not write again till hehad received an answer from Colonel Forster;and then he had nothing of a pleasant natureto send. It was not known that Wickham hada single relationship with whom he kept upany connection, and it was certain that he hadno near one living. His former acquaintanceshad been numerous; but since he had beenin the militia, it did not appear that he wason terms of particular friendship with any ofthem. There was no one, therefore, who couldbe pointed out as likely to give any news ofhim. And in the wretched state of his ownfinances, there was a very powerful motivefor secrecy, in addition to his fear of discoveryby Lydia’s relations, for it had just transpiredthat he had left gaming debts behind him toa very considerable amount. Colonel Forsterbelieved that more than a thousand poundswould be necessary to clear his expenses atBrighton. He owed a good deal in town, but

Chapter 48 421

his debts of honour were still more formidable.Mr. Gardiner did not attempt to conceal theseparticulars from the Longbourn family. Janeheard them with horror. “A gamester!” shecried. “This is wholly unexpected. I had notan idea of it.”

Mr. Gardiner added in his letter, that theymight expect to see their father at home onthe following day, which was Saturday. Ren-dered spiritless by the ill-success of all theirendeavours, he had yielded to his brother-in-law’s entreaty that he would return to hisfamily, and leave it to him to do whatever oc-casion might suggest to be advisable for con-tinuing their pursuit. When Mrs. Bennet wastold of this, she did not express so much satis-faction as her children expected, consideringwhat her anxiety for his life had been before.

“What, is he coming home, and withoutpoor Lydia?” she cried. “Sure he will not leaveLondon before he has found them. Who is tofight Wickham, and make him marry her, if hecomes away?”

As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be athome, it was settled that she and the childrenshould go to London, at the same time thatMr. Bennet came from it. The coach, there-fore, took them the first stage of their journey,and brought its master back to Longbourn.

Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the per-plexity about Elizabeth and her Derbyshirefriend that had attended her from that partof the world. His name had never been vol-untarily mentioned before them by her niece;and the kind of half-expectation which Mrs.


Gardiner had formed, of their being followedby a letter from him, had ended in nothing.Elizabeth had received none since her returnthat could come from Pemberley.

The present unhappy state of the familyrendered any other excuse for the lowness ofher spirits unnecessary; nothing, therefore,could be fairly conjectured from that, thoughElizabeth, who was by this time tolerably wellacquainted with her own feelings, was per-fectly aware that, had she known nothing ofDarcy, she could have borne the dread of Ly-dia’s infamy somewhat better. It would havespared her, she thought, one sleepless nightout of two.

When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all theappearance of his usual philosophic compo-sure. He said as little as he had ever beenin the habit of saying; made no mention of thebusiness that had taken him away, and it wassome time before his daughters had courageto speak of it.

It was not till the afternoon, when he hadjoined them at tea, that Elizabeth ventured tointroduce the subject; and then, on her brieflyexpressing her sorrow for what he must haveendured, he replied, “Say nothing of that.Who should suffer but myself? It has been myown doing, and I ought to feel it.”

“You must not be too severe upon yourself,”replied Elizabeth.

“You may well warn me against such anevil. Human nature is so prone to fall intoit! No, Lizzy, let me once in my life feel howmuch I have been to blame. I am not afraid of

Chapter 48 423

being overpowered by the impression. It willpass away soon enough.”

“Do you suppose them to be in London?”“Yes; where else can they be so well con-

cealed?”“And Lydia used to want to go to London,”

added Kitty.“She is happy then,” said her father drily;

“and her residence there will probably be ofsome duration.”

Then after a short silence he continued:“Lizzy, I bear you no ill-will for being jus-

tified in your advice to me last May, which,considering the event, shows some greatnessof mind.”

They were interrupted by Miss Bennet,who came to fetch her mother’s tea.

“This is a parade,” he cried, “which doesone good; it gives such an elegance to misfor-tune! Another day I will do the same; I will sitin my library, in my nightcap and powderinggown, and give as much trouble as I can; or,perhaps, I may defer it till Kitty runs away.”

“I am not going to run away, papa,” saidKitty fretfully. “If I should ever go to Brighton,I would behave better than Lydia.”

“You go to Brighton. I would not trust youso near it as Eastbourne for fifty pounds! No,Kitty, I have at last learnt to be cautious, andyou will feel the effects of it. No officer is everto enter into my house again, nor even to passthrough the village. Balls will be absolutelyprohibited, unless you stand up with one ofyour sisters. And you are never to stir out ofdoors till you can prove that you have spent


ten minutes of every day in a rational man-ner.”

Kitty, who took all these threats in a seri-ous light, began to cry.

“Well, well,” said he, “do not make yourselfunhappy. If you are a good girl for the next tenyears, I will take you to a review at the end ofthem.”

Chapter 49

Two days after Mr. Bennet’s return, as Janeand Elizabeth were walking together in theshrubbery behind the house, they saw thehousekeeper coming towards them, and, con-cluding that she came to call them to theirmother, went forward to meet her; but, in-stead of the expected summons, when they ap-proached her, she said to Miss Bennet, “I begyour pardon, madam, for interrupting you,but I was in hopes you might have got somegood news from town, so I took the liberty ofcoming to ask.”

“What do you mean, Hill? We have heardnothing from town.”

“Dear madam,” cried Mrs. Hill, in great as-tonishment, “don’t you know there is an ex-press come for master from Mr. Gardiner? Hehas been here this half-hour, and master hashad a letter.”

Away ran the girls, too eager to get into have time for speech. They ran throughthe vestibule into the breakfast-room; fromthence to the library; their father was in nei-ther; and they were on the point of seekinghim upstairs with their mother, when they

425


were met by the butler, who said:“If you are looking for my master, ma’am,

he is walking towards the little copse.”Upon this information, they instantly

passed through the hall once more, and ranacross the lawn after their father, who was de-liberately pursuing his way towards a smallwood on one side of the paddock.

Jane, who was not so light nor so much inthe habit of running as Elizabeth, soon laggedbehind, while her sister, panting for breath,came up with him, and eagerly cried out:

“Oh, papa, what news—what news? Haveyou heard from my uncle?”

“Yes I have had a letter from him by ex-press.”

“Well, and what news does it bring—goodor bad?”

“What is there of good to be expected?” saidhe, taking the letter from his pocket. “But per-haps you would like to read it.”

Elizabeth impatiently caught it from hishand. Jane now came up.

“Read it aloud,” said their father, “for Ihardly know myself what it is about.”

“Gracechurch Street,“Monday, August 2.

“MY DEAR BROTHER,“At last I am able to send you

some tidings of my niece, and suchas, upon the whole, I hope it willgive you satisfaction. Soon afteryou left me on Saturday, I was for-tunate enough to find out in what

Chapter 49 427

part of London they were. The par-ticulars I reserve till we meet; itis enough to know they are discov-ered. I have seen them both—”

“Then it is as I always hoped,” cried Jane;“they are married!”

Elizabeth read on:

“I have seen them both. They arenot married, nor can I find therewas any intention of being so; butif you are willing to perform the en-gagements which I have venturedto make on your side, I hope it willnot be long before they are. All thatis required of you is, to assure toyour daughter, by settlement, herequal share of the five thousandpounds secured among your chil-dren after the decease of yourselfand my sister; and, moreover, toenter into an engagement of allow-ing her, during your life, one hun-dred pounds per annum. Theseare conditions which, consideringeverything, I had no hesitation incomplying with, as far as I thoughtmyself privileged, for you. I shallsend this by express, that no timemay be lost in bringing me youranswer. You will easily compre-hend, from these particulars, thatMr. Wickham’s circumstances arenot so hopeless as they are gen-erally believed to be. The world


has been deceived in that respect;and I am happy to say there willbe some little money, even whenall his debts are discharged, to set-tle on my niece, in addition to herown fortune. If, as I conclude willbe the case, you send me full pow-ers to act in your name through-out the whole of this business, Iwill immediately give directions toHaggerston for preparing a propersettlement. There will not be thesmallest occasion for your comingto town again; therefore stay quietat Longbourn, and depend on mydiligence and care. Send back youranswer as fast as you can, andbe careful to write explicitly. Wehave judged it best that my nieceshould be married from this house,of which I hope you will approve.She comes to us to-day. I shallwrite again as soon as anythingmore is determined on. Yours, etc.,

“EDW. GARDINER.”

“Is it possible?” cried Elizabeth, when she hadfinished. “Can it be possible that he willmarry her?”

“Wickham is not so undeserving, then, aswe thought him,” said her sister. “My dearfather, I congratulate you.”

“And have you answered the letter?” criedElizabeth.

“No; but it must be done soon.”

Chapter 49 429

Most earnestly did she then entreat him tolose no more time before he wrote.

“Oh! my dear father,” she cried, “come backand write immediately. Consider how impor-tant every moment is in such a case.”

“Let me write for you,” said Jane, “if youdislike the trouble yourself.”

“I dislike it very much,” he replied; “but itmust be done.”

And so saying, he turned back with them,and walked towards the house.

“And may I ask—” said Elizabeth; “but theterms, I suppose, must be complied with.”

“Complied with! I am only ashamed of hisasking so little.”

“And they must marry! Yet he is such aman!”

“Yes, yes, they must marry. There is noth-ing else to be done. But there are two thingsthat I want very much to know; one is, howmuch money your uncle has laid down to bringit about; and the other, how am I ever to payhim.”

“Money! My uncle!” cried Jane, “what doyou mean, sir?”

“I mean, that no man in his senses wouldmarry Lydia on so slight a temptation as onehundred a year during my life, and fifty afterI am gone.”

“That is very true,” said Elizabeth; “thoughit had not occurred to me before. His debts tobe discharged, and something still to remain!Oh! it must be my uncle’s doings! Generous,good man, I am afraid he has distressed him-self. A small sum could not do all this.”


“No,” said her father; “Wickham’s a foolif he takes her with a farthing less than tenthousand pounds. I should be sorry to thinkso ill of him, in the very beginning of our rela-tionship.”

“Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid!How is half such a sum to be repaid?”

Mr. Bennet made no answer, and each ofthem, deep in thought, continued silent tillthey reached the house. Their father thenwent on to the library to write, and the girlswalked into the breakfast-room.

“And they are really to be married!” criedElizabeth, as soon as they were by them-selves. “How strange this is! And for this weare to be thankful. That they should marry,small as is their chance of happiness, andwretched as is his character, we are forced torejoice. Oh, Lydia!”

“I comfort myself with thinking,” repliedJane, “that he certainly would not marry Ly-dia if he had not a real regard for her. Thoughour kind uncle has done something towardsclearing him, I cannot believe that ten thou-sand pounds, or anything like it, has been ad-vanced. He has children of his own, and mayhave more. How could he spare half ten thou-sand pounds?”

“If he were ever able to learn what Wick-ham’s debts have been,” said Elizabeth, “andhow much is settled on his side on our sister,we shall exactly know what Mr. Gardiner hasdone for them, because Wickham has not six-pence of his own. The kindness of my uncleand aunt can never be requited. Their tak-

Chapter 49 431

ing her home, and affording her their personalprotection and countenance, is such a sacrificeto her advantage as years of gratitude cannotenough acknowledge. By this time she is ac-tually with them! If such goodness does notmake her miserable now, she will never de-serve to be happy! What a meeting for her,when she first sees my aunt!”

“We must endeavour to forget all that haspassed on either side,” said Jane: “I hope andtrust they will yet be happy. His consenting tomarry her is a proof, I will believe, that he iscome to a right way of thinking. Their mutualaffection will steady them; and I flatter myselfthey will settle so quietly, and live in so ratio-nal a manner, as may in time make their pastimprudence forgotten.”

“Their conduct has been such,” repliedElizabeth, “as neither you, nor I, nor anybodycan ever forget. It is useless to talk of it.”

It now occurred to the girls that theirmother was in all likelihood perfectly igno-rant of what had happened. They went tothe library, therefore, and asked their fatherwhether he would not wish them to make itknown to her. He was writing and, withoutraising his head, coolly replied:

“Just as you please.”“May we take my uncle’s letter to read to

her?”“Take whatever you like, and get away.”Elizabeth took the letter from his writing-

table, and they went upstairs together. Maryand Kitty were both with Mrs. Bennet: onecommunication would, therefore, do for all.


After a slight preparation for good news, theletter was read aloud. Mrs. Bennet couldhardly contain herself. As soon as Jane hadread Mr. Gardiner’s hope of Lydia’s being soonmarried, her joy burst forth, and every follow-ing sentence added to its exuberance. She wasnow in an irritation as violent from delight,as she had ever been fidgety from alarm andvexation. To know that her daughter wouldbe married was enough. She was disturbedby no fear for her felicity, nor humbled by anyremembrance of her misconduct.

“My dear, dear Lydia!” she cried. “This isdelightful indeed! She will be married! I shallsee her again! She will be married at sixteen!My good, kind brother! I knew how it wouldbe. I knew he would manage everything! HowI long to see her! and to see dear Wickhamtoo! But the clothes, the wedding clothes! Iwill write to my sister Gardiner about themdirectly. Lizzy, my dear, run down to your fa-ther, and ask him how much he will give her.Stay, stay, I will go myself. Ring the bell, Kitty,for Hill. I will put on my things in a moment.My dear, dear Lydia! How merry we shall betogether when we meet!”

Her eldest daughter endeavoured to givesome relief to the violence of these transports,by leading her thoughts to the obligationswhich Mr. Gardiner’s behaviour laid them allunder.

“For we must attribute this happy con-clusion,” she added, “in a great measure tohis kindness. We are persuaded that he haspledged himself to assist Mr. Wickham with

Chapter 49 433

money.”“Well,” cried her mother, “it is all very

right; who should do it but her own uncle?If he had not had a family of his own, I andmy children must have had all his money, youknow; and it is the first time we have everhad anything from him, except a few presents.Well! I am so happy! In a short time I shallhave a daughter married. Mrs. Wickham!How well it sounds! And she was only sixteenlast June. My dear Jane, I am in such a flut-ter, that I am sure I can’t write; so I will dic-tate, and you write for me. We will settle withyour father about the money afterwards; butthe things should be ordered immediately.”

She was then proceeding to all the particu-lars of calico, muslin, and cambric, and wouldshortly have dictated some very plentiful or-ders, had not Jane, though with some diffi-culty, persuaded her to wait till her father wasat leisure to be consulted. One day’s delay, sheobserved, would be of small importance; andher mother was too happy to be quite so obsti-nate as usual. Other schemes, too, came intoher head.

“I will go to Meryton,” said she, “as soonas I am dressed, and tell the good, good newsto my sister Philips. And as I come back, Ican call on Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long. Kitty,run down and order the carriage. An airingwould do me a great deal of good, I am sure.Girls, can I do anything for you in Meryton?Oh! Here comes Hill! My dear Hill, have youheard the good news? Miss Lydia is going tobe married; and you shall all have a bowl of


punch to make merry at her wedding.”Mrs. Hill began instantly to express her

joy. Elizabeth received her congratulationsamongst the rest, and then, sick of this folly,took refuge in her own room, that she mightthink with freedom.

Poor Lydia’s situation must, at best, be badenough; but that it was no worse, she hadneed to be thankful. She felt it so; and though,in looking forward, neither rational happi-ness nor worldly prosperity could be justly ex-pected for her sister, in looking back to whatthey had feared, only two hours ago, she feltall the advantages of what they had gained.

Chapter 50

Mr. Bennet had very often wished before thisperiod of his life that, instead of spending hiswhole income, he had laid by an annual sumfor the better provision of his children, and ofhis wife, if she survived him. He now wished itmore than ever. Had he done his duty in thatrespect, Lydia need not have been indebtedto her uncle for whatever of honour or creditcould now be purchased for her. The satisfac-tion of prevailing on one of the most worthlessyoung men in Great Britain to be her husbandmight then have rested in its proper place.

He was seriously concerned that a causeof so little advantage to anyone should be for-warded at the sole expense of his brother-in-law, and he was determined, if possible, to findout the extent of his assistance, and to dis-charge the obligation as soon as he could.

When first Mr. Bennet had married, econ-omy was held to be perfectly useless, for, ofcourse, they were to have a son. The son wasto join in cutting off the entail, as soon as heshould be of age, and the widow and youngerchildren would by that means be providedfor. Five daughters successively entered the

435


world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs.Bennet, for many years after Lydia’s birth,had been certain that he would. This eventhad at last been despaired of, but it was thentoo late to be saving. Mrs. Bennet had no turnfor economy, and her husband’s love of inde-pendence had alone prevented their exceedingtheir income.

Five thousand pounds was settled by mar-riage articles on Mrs. Bennet and the chil-dren. But in what proportions it should bedivided amongst the latter depended on thewill of the parents. This was one point, withregard to Lydia, at least, which was now tobe settled, and Mr. Bennet could have nohesitation in acceding to the proposal beforehim. In terms of grateful acknowledgment forthe kindness of his brother, though expressedmost concisely, he then delivered on paper hisperfect approbation of all that was done, andhis willingness to fulfil the engagements thathad been made for him. He had never beforesupposed that, could Wickham be prevailedon to marry his daughter, it would be donewith so little inconvenience to himself as bythe present arrangement. He would scarcelybe ten pounds a year the loser by the hun-dred that was to be paid them; for, what withher board and pocket allowance, and the con-tinual presents in money which passed to herthrough her mother’s hands, Lydia’s expenseshad been very little within that sum.

That it would be done with such trifling ex-ertion on his side, too, was another very wel-come surprise; for his wish at present was to

Chapter 50 437

have as little trouble in the business as possi-ble. When the first transports of rage whichhad produced his activity in seeking her wereover, he naturally returned to all his formerindolence. His letter was soon dispatched; for,though dilatory in undertaking business, hewas quick in its execution. He begged to knowfurther particulars of what he was indebtedto his brother, but was too angry with Lydiato send any message to her.

The good news spread quickly through thehouse, and with proportionate speed throughthe neighbourhood. It was borne in the latterwith decent philosophy. To be sure, it wouldhave been more for the advantage of conver-sation had Miss Lydia Bennet come upon thetown; or, as the happiest alternative, been se-cluded from the world, in some distant farm-house. But there was much to be talked ofin marrying her; and the good-natured wishesfor her well-doing which had proceeded beforefrom all the spiteful old ladies in Meryton lostbut a little of their spirit in this change of cir-cumstances, because with such an husbandher misery was considered certain.

It was a fortnight since Mrs. Bennet hadbeen downstairs; but on this happy day sheagain took her seat at the head of her table,and in spirits oppressively high. No sentimentof shame gave a damp to her triumph. Themarriage of a daughter, which had been thefirst object of her wishes since Jane was six-teen, was now on the point of accomplishment,and her thoughts and her words ran whollyon those attendants of elegant nuptials, fine


muslins, new carriages, and servants. Shewas busily searching through the neighbour-hood for a proper situation for her daugh-ter, and, without knowing or considering whattheir income might be, rejected many as defi-cient in size and importance.

“Haye Park might do,” said she, “if theGouldings could quit it—or the great house atStoke, if the drawing-room were larger; butAshworth is too far off! I could not bear tohave her ten miles from me; and as for PulvisLodge, the attics are dreadful.”

Her husband allowed her to talk on with-out interruption while the servants remained.But when they had withdrawn, he said to her:“Mrs. Bennet, before you take any or all ofthese houses for your son and daughter, letus come to a right understanding. Into onehouse in this neighbourhood they shall neverhave admittance. I will not encourage the im-pudence of either, by receiving them at Long-bourn.”

A long dispute followed this declaration;but Mr. Bennet was firm. It soon led to an-other; and Mrs. Bennet found, with amaze-ment and horror, that her husband would notadvance a guinea to buy clothes for his daugh-ter. He protested that she should receive fromhim no mark of affection whatever on the oc-casion. Mrs. Bennet could hardly comprehendit. That his anger could be carried to such apoint of inconceivable resentment as to refusehis daughter a privilege without which hermarriage would scarcely seem valid, exceededall she could believe possible. She was more

Chapter 50 439

alive to the disgrace which her want of newclothes must reflect on her daughter’s nup-tials, than to any sense of shame at her elop-ing and living with Wickham a fortnight be-fore they took place.

Elizabeth was now most heartily sorrythat she had, from the distress of the moment,been led to make Mr. Darcy acquainted withtheir fears for her sister; for since her mar-riage would so shortly give the proper termi-nation to the elopement, they might hope toconceal its unfavourable beginning from allthose who were not immediately on the spot.

She had no fear of its spreading fartherthrough his means. There were few peopleon whose secrecy she would have more con-fidently depended; but, at the same time,there was no one whose knowledge of asister’s frailty would have mortified her somuch—not, however, from any fear of disad-vantage from it individually to herself, for,at any rate, there seemed a gulf impassablebetween them. Had Lydia’s marriage beenconcluded on the most honourable terms, itwas not to be supposed that Mr. Darcy wouldconnect himself with a family where, to ev-ery other objection, would now be added analliance and relationship of the nearest kindwith a man whom he so justly scorned.

From such a connection she could not won-der that he would shrink. The wish of procur-ing her regard, which she had assured her-self of his feeling in Derbyshire, could not inrational expectation survive such a blow asthis. She was humbled, she was grieved; she


repented, though she hardly knew of what.She became jealous of his esteem, when shecould no longer hope to be benefited by it. Shewanted to hear of him, when there seemedthe least chance of gaining intelligence. Shewas convinced that she could have been happywith him, when it was no longer likely theyshould meet.

What a triumph for him, as she oftenthought, could he know that the proposalswhich she had proudly spurned only fourmonths ago, would now have been most gladlyand gratefully received! He was as generous,she doubted not, as the most generous of hissex; but while he was mortal, there must be atriumph.

She began now to comprehend that he wasexactly the man who, in disposition and tal-ents, would most suit her. His understand-ing and temper, though unlike her own, wouldhave answered all her wishes. It was anunion that must have been to the advantageof both; by her ease and liveliness, his mindmight have been softened, his manners im-proved; and from his judgement, information,and knowledge of the world, she must havereceived benefit of greater importance.

But no such happy marriage could nowteach the admiring multitude what connubialfelicity really was. An union of a differenttendency, and precluding the possibility of theother, was soon to be formed in their family.

How Wickham and Lydia were to be sup-ported in tolerable independence, she couldnot imagine. But how little of permanent hap-

Chapter 50 441

piness could belong to a couple who were onlybrought together because their passions werestronger than their virtue, she could easilyconjecture.

Mr. Gardiner soon wrote again to hisbrother. To Mr. Bennet’s acknowledgmentshe briefly replied, with assurance of his ea-gerness to promote the welfare of any of hisfamily; and concluded with entreaties thatthe subject might never be mentioned to himagain. The principal purport of his letter wasto inform them that Mr. Wickham had re-solved on quitting the militia.

“It was greatly my wish that heshould do so,” he added, “as soonas his marriage was fixed on. AndI think you will agree with me, inconsidering the removal from thatcorps as highly advisable, both onhis account and my niece’s. It isMr. Wickham’s intention to go intothe regulars; and among his for-mer friends, there are still somewho are able and willing to as-sist him in the army. He has thepromise of an ensigncy in General——’s regiment, now quartered inthe North. It is an advantage tohave it so far from this part ofthe kingdom. He promises fairly;and I hope among different people,where they may each have a char-acter to preserve, they will both


be more prudent. I have writtento Colonel Forster, to inform himof our present arrangements, andto request that he will satisfy thevarious creditors of Mr. Wickhamin and near Brighton, with assur-ances of speedy payment, for whichI have pledged myself. And will yougive yourself the trouble of carry-ing similar assurances to his cred-itors in Meryton, of whom I shallsubjoin a list according to his in-formation? He has given in all hisdebts; I hope at least he has not de-ceived us. Haggerston has our di-rections, and all will be completedin a week. They will then joinhis regiment, unless they are firstinvited to Longbourn; and I un-derstand from Mrs. Gardiner, thatmy niece is very desirous of seeingyou all before she leaves the South.She is well, and begs to be duti-fully remembered to you and yourmother.—Yours, etc.,

“E. GARDINER.”

Mr. Bennet and his daughters saw all theadvantages of Wickham’s removal from the——shire as clearly as Mr. Gardiner could do.But Mrs. Bennet was not so well pleased withit. Lydia’s being settled in the North, justwhen she had expected most pleasure andpride in her company, for she had by no meansgiven up her plan of their residing in Hert-

Chapter 50 443

fordshire, was a severe disappointment; and,besides, it was such a pity that Lydia shouldbe taken from a regiment where she was ac-quainted with everybody, and had so manyfavourites.

“She is so fond of Mrs. Forster,” said she, “itwill be quite shocking to send her away! Andthere are several of the young men, too, thatshe likes very much. The officers may not beso pleasant in General ——’s regiment.”

His daughter’s request, for such it mightbe considered, of being admitted into her fam-ily again before she set off for the North, re-ceived at first an absolute negative. But Janeand Elizabeth, who agreed in wishing, for thesake of their sister’s feelings and consequence,that she should be noticed on her marriage byher parents, urged him so earnestly yet so ra-tionally and so mildly, to receive her and herhusband at Longbourn, as soon as they weremarried, that he was prevailed on to think asthey thought, and act as they wished. Andtheir mother had the satisfaction of know-ing that she would be able to show her mar-ried daughter in the neighbourhood before shewas banished to the North. When Mr. Ben-net wrote again to his brother, therefore, hesent his permission for them to come; and itwas settled, that as soon as the ceremony wasover, they should proceed to Longbourn. Eliz-abeth was surprised, however, that Wickhamshould consent to such a scheme, and had sheconsulted only her own inclination, any meet-ing with him would have been the last objectof her wishes.

Chapter 51

Their sister’s wedding day arrived; and Janeand Elizabeth felt for her probably more thanshe felt for herself. The carriage was sent tomeet them at ——, and they were to return init by dinner-time. Their arrival was dreadedby the elder Miss Bennets, and Jane more es-pecially, who gave Lydia the feelings whichwould have attended herself, had she been theculprit, and was wretched in the thought ofwhat her sister must endure.

They came. The family were assembled inthe breakfast room to receive them. Smilesdecked the face of Mrs. Bennet as the car-riage drove up to the door; her husband lookedimpenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed,anxious, uneasy.

Lydia’s voice was heard in the vestibule;the door was thrown open, and she ran intothe room. Her mother stepped forwards, em-braced her, and welcomed her with rapture;gave her hand, with an affectionate smile, toWickham, who followed his lady; and wishedthem both joy with an alacrity which shewedno doubt of their happiness.

Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom

445


they then turned, was not quite so cordial. Hiscountenance rather gained in austerity; andhe scarcely opened his lips. The easy assur-ance of the young couple, indeed, was enoughto provoke him. Elizabeth was disgusted, andeven Miss Bennet was shocked. Lydia wasLydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy,and fearless. She turned from sister to sister,demanding their congratulations; and whenat length they all sat down, looked eagerlyround the room, took notice of some little al-teration in it, and observed, with a laugh, thatit was a great while since she had been there.

Wickham was not at all more distressedthan herself, but his manners were alwaysso pleasing, that had his character and hismarriage been exactly what they ought, hissmiles and his easy address, while he claimedtheir relationship, would have delighted themall. Elizabeth had not before believed himquite equal to such assurance; but she satdown, resolving within herself to draw no lim-its in future to the impudence of an impudentman. She blushed, and Jane blushed; but thecheeks of the two who caused their confusionsuffered no variation of colour.

There was no want of discourse. The brideand her mother could neither of them talkfast enough; and Wickham, who happened tosit near Elizabeth, began inquiring after hisacquaintance in that neighbourhood, with agood humoured ease which she felt very un-able to equal in her replies. They seemed eachof them to have the happiest memories in theworld. Nothing of the past was recollected

Chapter 51 447

with pain; and Lydia led voluntarily to sub-jects which her sisters would not have alludedto for the world.

“Only think of its being three months,”she cried, “since I went away; it seems but afortnight I declare; and yet there have beenthings enough happened in the time. Goodgracious! when I went away, I am sure I hadno more idea of being married till I came backagain! though I thought it would be very goodfun if I was.”

Her father lifted up his eyes. Jane wasdistressed. Elizabeth looked expressively atLydia; but she, who never heard nor sawany thing of which she chose to be insensi-ble, gaily continued, “Oh! mamma, do the peo-ple hereabouts know I am married to-day? Iwas afraid they might not; and we overtookWilliam Goulding in his curricle, so I was de-termined he should know it, and so I let downthe side-glass next to him, and took off myglove, and let my hand just rest upon the win-dow frame, so that he might see the ring, andthen I bowed and smiled like any thing.”

Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She gotup, and ran out of the room; and returned nomore, till she heard them passing through thehall to the dining parlour. She then joinedthem soon enough to see Lydia, with anxiousparade, walk up to her mother’s right hand,and hear her say to her eldest sister, “Ah!Jane, I take your place now, and you must golower, because I am a married woman.”

It was not to be supposed that time wouldgive Lydia that embarrassment from which


she had been so wholly free at first. Her easeand good spirits increased. She longed to seeMrs. Phillips, the Lucases, and all their otherneighbours, and to hear herself called “Mrs.Wickham” by each of them; and in the meantime, she went after dinner to show her ring,and boast of being married, to Mrs. Hill andthe two housemaids.

“Well, mamma,” said she, when they wereall returned to the breakfast room, “and whatdo you think of my husband? Is not he acharming man? I am sure my sisters must allenvy me. I only hope they may have half mygood luck. They must all go to Brighton. Thatis the place to get husbands. What a pity it is,mamma, we did not all go.”

“Very true; and if I had my will, we should.But my dear Lydia, I don’t at all like your go-ing such a way off. Must it be so?”

“Oh, lord! yes;—there is nothing in that. Ishall like it of all things. You and papa, andmy sisters, must come down and see us. Weshall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I daresay there will be some balls, and I will takecare to get good partners for them all.”

“I should like it beyond any thing!” said hermother.

“And then when you go away, you mayleave one or two of my sisters behind you; andI dare say I shall get husbands for them beforethe winter is over.”

“I thank you for my share of the favour,”said Elizabeth; “but I do not particularly likeyour way of getting husbands.”

Their visitors were not to remain above ten

Chapter 51 449

days with them. Mr. Wickham had receivedhis commission before he left London, and hewas to join his regiment at the end of a fort-night.

No one but Mrs. Bennet regretted thattheir stay would be so short; and she madethe most of the time by visiting about with herdaughter, and having very frequent parties athome. These parties were acceptable to all; toavoid a family circle was even more desirableto such as did think, than such as did not.

Wickham’s affection for Lydia was justwhat Elizabeth had expected to find it; notequal to Lydia’s for him. She had scarcelyneeded her present observation to be satisfied,from the reason of things, that their elope-ment had been brought on by the strength ofher love, rather than by his; and she wouldhave wondered why, without violently caringfor her, he chose to elope with her at all, hadshe not felt certain that his flight was ren-dered necessary by distress of circumstances;and if that were the case, he was not theyoung man to resist an opportunity of havinga companion.

Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He washer dear Wickham on every occasion; no onewas to be put in competition with him. Hedid every thing best in the world; and she wassure he would kill more birds on the first ofSeptember, than any body else in the country.

One morning, soon after their arrival, asshe was sitting with her two elder sisters, shesaid to Elizabeth:

“Lizzy, I never gave you an account of my


wedding, I believe. You were not by, when Itold mamma and the others all about it. Arenot you curious to hear how it was managed?”

“No really,” replied Elizabeth; “I thinkthere cannot be too little said on the subject.”

“La! You are so strange! But I must tellyou how it went off. We were married, youknow, at St. Clement’s, because Wickham’slodgings were in that parish. And it was set-tled that we should all be there by eleveno’clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to gotogether; and the others were to meet us atthe church. Well, Monday morning came, andI was in such a fuss! I was so afraid, you know,that something would happen to put it off, andthen I should have gone quite distracted. Andthere was my aunt, all the time I was dress-ing, preaching and talking away just as if shewas reading a sermon. However, I did nothear above one word in ten, for I was think-ing, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. Ilonged to know whether he would be marriedin his blue coat.”

“Well, and so we breakfasted at ten asusual; I thought it would never be over; for,by the bye, you are to understand, that myuncle and aunt were horrid unpleasant all thetime I was with them. If you’ll believe me, Idid not once put my foot out of doors, thoughI was there a fortnight. Not one party, orscheme, or any thing. To be sure London wasrather thin, but, however, the Little Theatrewas open. Well, and so just as the carriagecame to the door, my uncle was called awayupon business to that horrid man Mr. Stone.

Chapter 51 451

And then, you know, when once they get to-gether, there is no end of it. Well, I was sofrightened I did not know what to do, for myuncle was to give me away; and if we were be-yond the hour, we could not be married all day.But, luckily, he came back again in ten min-utes’ time, and then we all set out. However, Irecollected afterwards that if he had been pre-vented going, the wedding need not be put off,for Mr. Darcy might have done as well.”

“Mr. Darcy!” repeated Elizabeth, in utteramazement.

“Oh, yes!—he was to come there withWickham, you know. But gracious me! I quiteforgot! I ought not to have said a word aboutit. I promised them so faithfully! What willWickham say? It was to be such a secret!”

“If it was to be secret,” said Jane, “say notanother word on the subject. You may dependupon my seeking no further.”

“Oh! certainly,” said Elizabeth, thoughburning with curiosity; “we will ask you noquestions.”

“Thank you,” said Lydia, “for if you did, Ishould certainly tell you all, and then Wick-ham would be angry.”

On such encouragement to ask, Elizabethwas forced to put it out of her power, by run-ning away.

But to live in ignorance on such a point wasimpossible; or at least it was impossible notto try for information. Mr. Darcy had been ather sister’s wedding. It was exactly a scene,and exactly among people, where he had ap-parently least to do, and least temptation to


go. Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapidand wild, hurried into her brain; but she wassatisfied with none. Those that best pleasedher, as placing his conduct in the noblest light,seemed most improbable. She could not bearsuch suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet ofpaper, wrote a short letter to her aunt, to re-quest an explanation of what Lydia had dropt,if it were compatible with the secrecy whichhad been intended.

“You may readily comprehend,” she added,“what my curiosity must be to know how aperson unconnected with any of us, and (com-paratively speaking) a stranger to our fam-ily, should have been amongst you at such atime. Pray write instantly, and let me under-stand it—unless it is, for very cogent reasons,to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems tothink necessary; and then I must endeavourto be satisfied with ignorance.”

“Not that I shall, though,” she added toherself, as she finished the letter; “and mydear aunt, if you do not tell me in an hon-ourable manner, I shall certainly be reducedto tricks and stratagems to find it out.”

Jane’s delicate sense of honour would notallow her to speak to Elizabeth privately ofwhat Lydia had let fall; Elizabeth was gladof it;—till it appeared whether her inquirieswould receive any satisfaction, she had ratherbe without a confidante.

Chapter 52

Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving ananswer to her letter as soon as she possiblycould. She was no sooner in possession ofit than, hurrying into the little copse, whereshe was least likely to be interrupted, she satdown on one of the benches and prepared to behappy; for the length of the letter convincedher that it did not contain a denial.

“Gracechurch street,“Sept. 6.

“MY DEAR NIECE,“I have just received your letter,

and shall devote this whole morn-ing to answering it, as I foreseethat a little writing will not com-prise what I have to tell you. Imust confess myself surprised byyour application; I did not expectit from you. Don’t think me angry,however, for I only mean to let youknow that I had not imagined suchinquiries to be necessary on yourside. If you do not choose to under-stand me, forgive my impertinence.Your uncle is as much surprised as

453


I am—and nothing but the belief ofyour being a party concerned wouldhave allowed him to act as he hasdone. But if you are really innocentand ignorant, I must be more ex-plicit.

“On the very day of my com-ing home from Longbourn, your un-cle had a most unexpected visitor.Mr. Darcy called, and was shut upwith him several hours. It was allover before I arrived; so my curios-ity was not so dreadfully rackedas your’s seems to have been. Hecame to tell Mr. Gardiner that hehad found out where your sisterand Mr. Wickham were, and thathe had seen and talked with themboth; Wickham repeatedly, Lydiaonce. From what I can collect, heleft Derbyshire only one day afterourselves, and came to town withthe resolution of hunting for them.The motive professed was his con-viction of its being owing to him-self that Wickham’s worthlessnesshad not been so well known as tomake it impossible for any youngwoman of character to love or con-fide in him. He generously imputedthe whole to his mistaken pride,and confessed that he had beforethought it beneath him to lay hisprivate actions open to the world.His character was to speak for it-

Chapter 52 455

self. He called it, therefore, hisduty to step forward, and endeav-our to remedy an evil which hadbeen brought on by himself. If hehad another motive, I am sure itwould never disgrace him. He hadbeen some days in town, before hewas able to discover them; but hehad something to direct his search,which was more than we had; andthe consciousness of this was an-other reason for his resolving to fol-low us.

“There is a lady, it seems, aMrs. Younge, who was some timeago governess to Miss Darcy, andwas dismissed from her chargeon some cause of disapprobation,though he did not say what. Shethen took a large house in Edward-street, and has since maintainedherself by letting lodgings. ThisMrs. Younge was, he knew, inti-mately acquainted with Wickham;and he went to her for intelligenceof him as soon as he got to town.But it was two or three days be-fore he could get from her what hewanted. She would not betray hertrust, I suppose, without briberyand corruption, for she really didknow where her friend was to befound. Wickham indeed had goneto her on their first arrival in Lon-don, and had she been able to re-


ceive them into her house, theywould have taken up their abodewith her. At length, however, ourkind friend procured the wished-for direction. They were in ——street. He saw Wickham, and af-terwards insisted on seeing Lydia.His first object with her, he ac-knowledged, had been to persuadeher to quit her present disgrace-ful situation, and return to herfriends as soon as they could beprevailed on to receive her, offeringhis assistance, as far as it wouldgo. But he found Lydia absolutelyresolved on remaining where shewas. She cared for none of herfriends; she wanted no help of his;she would not hear of leaving Wick-ham. She was sure they should bemarried some time or other, and itdid not much signify when. Sincesuch were her feelings, it only re-mained, he thought, to secure andexpedite a marriage, which, in hisvery first conversation with Wick-ham, he easily learnt had neverbeen his design. He confessedhimself obliged to leave the regi-ment, on account of some debts ofhonour, which were very pressing;and scrupled not to lay all the ill-consequences of Lydia’s flight onher own folly alone. He meantto resign his commission immedi-

Chapter 52 457

ately; and as to his future situa-tion, he could conjecture very littleabout it. He must go somewhere,but he did not know where, andhe knew he should have nothing tolive on.

“Mr. Darcy asked him why hehad not married your sister at once.Though Mr. Bennet was not imag-ined to be very rich, he wouldhave been able to do something forhim, and his situation must havebeen benefited by marriage. Buthe found, in reply to this ques-tion, that Wickham still cherishedthe hope of more effectually mak-ing his fortune by marriage in someother country. Under such circum-stances, however, he was not likelyto be proof against the temptationof immediate relief.

“They met several times, forthere was much to be discussed.Wickham of course wanted morethan he could get; but at length wasreduced to be reasonable.

“Every thing being settled be-tween them, Mr. Darcy’s next stepwas to make your uncle acquaintedwith it, and he first called inGracechurch street the evening be-fore I came home. But Mr. Gar-diner could not be seen, and Mr.Darcy found, on further inquiry,that your father was still with him,


but would quit town the next morn-ing. He did not judge your fatherto be a person whom he could soproperly consult as your uncle, andtherefore readily postponed seeinghim till after the departure of theformer. He did not leave his name,and till the next day it was onlyknown that a gentleman had calledon business.

“On Saturday he came again.Your father was gone, your uncleat home, and, as I said before, theyhad a great deal of talk together.

“They met again on Sunday, andthen I saw him too. It was notall settled before Monday: as soonas it was, the express was sentoff to Longbourn. But our visitorwas very obstinate. I fancy, Lizzy,that obstinacy is the real defect ofhis character, after all. He hasbeen accused of many faults at dif-ferent times, but this is the trueone. Nothing was to be done thathe did not do himself; though Iam sure (and I do not speak it tobe thanked, therefore say nothingabout it), your uncle would mostreadily have settled the whole.

“They battled it together for along time, which was more thaneither the gentleman or lady con-cerned in it deserved. But at lastyour uncle was forced to yield, and

Chapter 52 459

instead of being allowed to be ofuse to his niece, was forced to putup with only having the proba-ble credit of it, which went sorelyagainst the grain; and I really be-lieve your letter this morning gavehim great pleasure, because it re-quired an explanation that wouldrob him of his borrowed feathers,and give the praise where it wasdue. But, Lizzy, this must go no far-ther than yourself, or Jane at most.

“You know pretty well, I sup-pose, what has been done for theyoung people. His debts are tobe paid, amounting, I believe, toconsiderably more than a thou-sand pounds, another thousandin addition to her own settledupon her, and his commission pur-chased. The reason why all thiswas to be done by him alone, wassuch as I have given above. It wasowing to him, to his reserve andwant of proper consideration, thatWickham’s character had been somisunderstood, and consequentlythat he had been received and no-ticed as he was. Perhaps there wassome truth in this; though I doubtwhether his reserve, or anybody’sreserve, can be answerable for theevent. But in spite of all this finetalking, my dear Lizzy, you mayrest perfectly assured that your un-


cle would never have yielded, if wehad not given him credit for an-other interest in the affair.

“When all this was resolved on,he returned again to his friends,who were still staying at Pember-ley; but it was agreed that heshould be in London once morewhen the wedding took place, andall money matters were then to re-ceive the last finish.

“I believe I have now told youevery thing. It is a relation whichyou tell me is to give you great sur-prise; I hope at least it will notafford you any displeasure. Ly-dia came to us; and Wickham hadconstant admission to the house.He was exactly what he had been,when I knew him in Hertfordshire;but I would not tell you how littleI was satisfied with her behaviourwhile she staid with us, if I hadnot perceived, by Jane’s letter lastWednesday, that her conduct oncoming home was exactly of a piecewith it, and therefore what I nowtell you can give you no fresh pain.I talked to her repeatedly in themost serious manner, representingto her all the wickedness of whatshe had done, and all the unhappi-ness she had brought on her fam-ily. If she heard me, it was by goodluck, for I am sure she did not lis-

Chapter 52 461

ten. I was sometimes quite pro-voked, but then I recollected mydear Elizabeth and Jane, and fortheir sakes had patience with her.

“Mr. Darcy was punctual in hisreturn, and as Lydia informed you,attended the wedding. He dinedwith us the next day, and was toleave town again on Wednesday orThursday. Will you be very angrywith me, my dear Lizzy, if I takethis opportunity of saying (what Iwas never bold enough to say be-fore) how much I like him. His be-haviour to us has, in every respect,been as pleasing as when we werein Derbyshire. His understand-ing and opinions all please me; hewants nothing but a little moreliveliness, and that, if he marryprudently, his wife may teach him.I thought him very sly;—he hardlyever mentioned your name. Butslyness seems the fashion.

“Pray forgive me if I have beenvery presuming, or at least do notpunish me so far as to exclude mefrom P. I shall never be quite happytill I have been all round the park.A low phaeton, with a nice littlepair of ponies, would be the verything.

“But I must write no more. Thechildren have been wanting me thishalf hour.


“Yours, very sincerely,“M. GARDINER.”

The contents of this letter threw Elizabethinto a flutter of spirits, in which it was difficultto determine whether pleasure or pain borethe greatest share. The vague and unsettledsuspicions which uncertainty had produced ofwhat Mr. Darcy might have been doing to for-ward her sister’s match, which she had fearedto encourage as an exertion of goodness toogreat to be probable, and at the same timedreaded to be just, from the pain of obligation,were proved beyond their greatest extent tobe true! He had followed them purposely totown, he had taken on himself all the trou-ble and mortification attendant on such a re-search; in which supplication had been nec-essary to a woman whom he must abominateand despise, and where he was reduced tomeet, frequently meet, reason with, persuade,and finally bribe, the man whom he alwaysmost wished to avoid, and whose very nameit was punishment to him to pronounce. Hehad done all this for a girl whom he could nei-ther regard nor esteem. Her heart did whis-per that he had done it for her. But it was ahope shortly checked by other considerations,and she soon felt that even her vanity wasinsufficient, when required to depend on hisaffection for her—for a woman who had al-ready refused him—as able to overcome a sen-timent so natural as abhorrence against re-lationship with Wickham. Brother-in-law ofWickham! Every kind of pride must revolt

Chapter 52 463

from the connection. He had, to be sure, donemuch. She was ashamed to think how much.But he had given a reason for his interfer-ence, which asked no extraordinary stretch ofbelief. It was reasonable that he should feelhe had been wrong; he had liberality, and hehad the means of exercising it; and thoughshe would not place herself as his principal in-ducement, she could, perhaps, believe that re-maining partiality for her might assist his en-deavours in a cause where her peace of mindmust be materially concerned. It was painful,exceedingly painful, to know that they wereunder obligations to a person who could neverreceive a return. They owed the restorationof Lydia, her character, every thing, to him.Oh! how heartily did she grieve over every un-gracious sensation she had ever encouraged,every saucy speech she had ever directed to-wards him. For herself she was humbled; butshe was proud of him. Proud that in a causeof compassion and honour, he had been ableto get the better of himself. She read overher aunt’s commendation of him again andagain. It was hardly enough; but it pleasedher. She was even sensible of some plea-sure, though mixed with regret, on findinghow steadfastly both she and her uncle hadbeen persuaded that affection and confidencesubsisted between Mr. Darcy and herself.

She was roused from her seat, and her re-flections, by some one’s approach; and beforeshe could strike into another path, she wasovertaken by Wickham.


“I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ram-ble, my dear sister?” said he, as he joined her.

“You certainly do,” she replied with a smile;“but it does not follow that the interruptionmust be unwelcome.”

“I should be sorry indeed, if it were. Wewere always good friends; and now we are bet-ter.”

“True. Are the others coming out?”“I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are

going in the carriage to Meryton. And so, mydear sister, I find, from our uncle and aunt,that you have actually seen Pemberley.”

She replied in the affirmative.“I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I

believe it would be too much for me, or elseI could take it in my way to Newcastle. Andyou saw the old housekeeper, I suppose? PoorReynolds, she was always very fond of me.But of course she did not mention my nameto you.”

“Yes, she did.”“And what did she say?”“That you were gone into the army, and

she was afraid had—not turned out well. Atsuch a distance as that, you know, things arestrangely misrepresented.”

“Certainly,” he replied, biting his lips. Eliz-abeth hoped she had silenced him; but he soonafterwards said:

“I was surprised to see Darcy in town lastmonth. We passed each other several times. Iwonder what he can be doing there.”

“Perhaps preparing for his marriage withMiss de Bourgh,” said Elizabeth. “It must be

Chapter 52 465

something particular, to take him there at thistime of year.”

“Undoubtedly. Did you see him while youwere at Lambton? I thought I understoodfrom the Gardiners that you had.”

“Yes; he introduced us to his sister.”“And do you like her?”“Very much.”“I have heard, indeed, that she is un-

commonly improved within this year or two.When I last saw her, she was not very promis-ing. I am very glad you liked her. I hope shewill turn out well.”

“I dare say she will; she has got over themost trying age.”

“Did you go by the village of Kympton?”“I do not recollect that we did.”“I mention it, because it is the living which

I ought to have had. A most delightfulplace!—Excellent Parsonage House! It wouldhave suited me in every respect.”

“How should you have liked making ser-mons?”

“Exceedingly well. I should have consid-ered it as part of my duty, and the exertionwould soon have been nothing. One ought notto repine;—but, to be sure, it would have beensuch a thing for me! The quiet, the retire-ment of such a life would have answered allmy ideas of happiness! But it was not to be.Did you ever hear Darcy mention the circum-stance, when you were in Kent?”

“I have heard from authority, which Ithought as good, that it was left you condi-tionally only, and at the will of the present pa-


tron.”“You have. Yes, there was something in

that; I told you so from the first, you may re-member.”

“I did hear, too, that there was a time,when sermon-making was not so palatable toyou as it seems to be at present; that you actu-ally declared your resolution of never takingorders, and that the business had been com-promised accordingly.”

“You did! and it was not wholly withoutfoundation. You may remember what I toldyou on that point, when first we talked of it.”

They were now almost at the door of thehouse, for she had walked fast to get rid ofhim; and unwilling, for her sister’s sake, toprovoke him, she only said in reply, with agood-humoured smile:

“Come, Mr. Wickham, we are brother andsister, you know. Do not let us quarrel aboutthe past. In future, I hope we shall be alwaysof one mind.”

She held out her hand; he kissed it withaffectionate gallantry, though he hardly knewhow to look, and they entered the house.

Chapter 53

Mr. Wickham was so perfectly satisfied withthis conversation that he never again dis-tressed himself, or provoked his dear sisterElizabeth, by introducing the subject of it;and she was pleased to find that she had saidenough to keep him quiet.

The day of his and Lydia’s departure sooncame, and Mrs. Bennet was forced to submitto a separation, which, as her husband by nomeans entered into her scheme of their all go-ing to Newcastle, was likely to continue atleast a twelvemonth.

“Oh! my dear Lydia,” she cried, “whenshall we meet again?”

“Oh, lord! I don’t know. Not these two orthree years, perhaps.”

“Write to me very often, my dear.”“As often as I can. But you know married

women have never much time for writing. Mysisters may write to me. They will have noth-ing else to do.”

Mr. Wickham’s adieus were much more af-fectionate than his wife’s. He smiled, lookedhandsome, and said many pretty things.

“He is as fine a fellow,” said Mr. Bennet, as

467


soon as they were out of the house, “as ever Isaw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes loveto us all. I am prodigiously proud of him. Idefy even Sir William Lucas himself to pro-duce a more valuable son-in-law.”

The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennetvery dull for several days.

“I often think,” said she, “that there isnothing so bad as parting with one’s friends.One seems so forlorn without them.”

“This is the consequence, you see, Madam,of marrying a daughter,” said Elizabeth. “Itmust make you better satisfied that yourother four are single.”

“It is no such thing. Lydia does not leaveme because she is married, but only becauseher husband’s regiment happens to be so faroff. If that had been nearer, she would nothave gone so soon.”

But the spiritless condition which thisevent threw her into was shortly relieved, andher mind opened again to the agitation ofhope, by an article of news which then be-gan to be in circulation. The housekeeper atNetherfield had received orders to prepare forthe arrival of her master, who was comingdown in a day or two, to shoot there for severalweeks. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets.She looked at Jane, and smiled and shook herhead by turns.

“Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is comingdown, sister,” (for Mrs. Phillips first broughther the news). “Well, so much the better. Notthat I care about it, though. He is nothing tous, you know, and I am sure I never want to

Chapter 53 469

see him again. But, however, he is very wel-come to come to Netherfield, if he likes it. Andwho knows what may happen? But that isnothing to us. You know, sister, we agreed longago never to mention a word about it. And so,is it quite certain he is coming?”

“You may depend on it,” replied the other,“for Mrs. Nicholls was in Meryton last night;I saw her passing by, and went out myselfon purpose to know the truth of it; and shetold me that it was certain true. He comesdown on Thursday at the latest, very likely onWednesday. She was going to the butcher’s,she told me, on purpose to order in some meaton Wednesday, and she has got three couple ofducks just fit to be killed.”

Miss Bennet had not been able to hear ofhis coming without changing colour. It wasmany months since she had mentioned hisname to Elizabeth; but now, as soon as theywere alone together, she said:

“I saw you look at me to-day, Lizzy, whenmy aunt told us of the present report; and Iknow I appeared distressed. But don’t imag-ine it was from any silly cause. I was onlyconfused for the moment, because I felt that Ishould be looked at. I do assure you that thenews does not affect me either with pleasureor pain. I am glad of one thing, that he comesalone; because we shall see the less of him.Not that I am afraid of myself, but I dreadother people’s remarks.”

Elizabeth did not know what to make ofit. Had she not seen him in Derbyshire, shemight have supposed him capable of coming


there with no other view than what was ac-knowledged; but she still thought him par-tial to Jane, and she wavered as to thegreater probability of his coming there withhis friend’s permission, or being bold enoughto come without it.

“Yet it is hard,” she sometimes thought,“that this poor man cannot come to a housewhich he has legally hired, without raising allthis speculation! I will leave him to himself.”

In spite of what her sister declared, and re-ally believed to be her feelings in the expecta-tion of his arrival, Elizabeth could easily per-ceive that her spirits were affected by it. Theywere more disturbed, more unequal, than shehad often seen them.

The subject which had been so warmly can-vassed between their parents, about a twelve-month ago, was now brought forward again.

“As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, mydear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “you will wait on himof course.”

“No, no. You forced me into visiting himlast year, and promised, if I went to see him,he should marry one of my daughters. But itended in nothing, and I will not be sent on afool’s errand again.”

His wife represented to him how abso-lutely necessary such an attention would befrom all the neighbouring gentlemen, on hisreturning to Netherfield.

“’Tis an etiquette I despise,” said he. “If hewants our society, let him seek it. He knowswhere we live. I will not spend my hours inrunning after my neighbours every time they

Chapter 53 471

go away and come back again.”“Well, all I know is, that it will be abom-

inably rude if you do not wait on him. But,however, that shan’t prevent my asking himto dine here, I am determined. We must haveMrs. Long and the Gouldings soon. That willmake thirteen with ourselves, so there will bejust room at table for him.”

Consoled by this resolution, she was thebetter able to bear her husband’s incivility;though it was very mortifying to know thather neighbours might all see Mr. Bingley, inconsequence of it, before they did. As the dayof his arrival drew near:

“I begin to be sorry that he comes at all,”said Jane to her sister. “It would be nothing;I could see him with perfect indifference, butI can hardly bear to hear it thus perpetuallytalked of. My mother means well; but she doesnot know, no one can know, how much I sufferfrom what she says. Happy shall I be, whenhis stay at Netherfield is over!”

“I wish I could say any thing to comfortyou,” replied Elizabeth; “but it is wholly out ofmy power. You must feel it; and the usual sat-isfaction of preaching patience to a sufferer isdenied me, because you have always so much.”

Mr. Bingley arrived. Mrs. Bennet, throughthe assistance of servants, contrived to havethe earliest tidings of it, that the period ofanxiety and fretfulness on her side might beas long as it could. She counted the days thatmust intervene before their invitation couldbe sent; hopeless of seeing him before. Buton the third morning after his arrival in Hert-


fordshire, she saw him, from her dressing-room window, enter the paddock and ride to-wards the house.

Her daughters were eagerly called to par-take of her joy. Jane resolutely kept herplace at the table; but Elizabeth, to sat-isfy her mother, went to the window—shelooked,—she saw Mr. Darcy with him, and satdown again by her sister.

“There is a gentleman with him, mamma,”said Kitty; “who can it be?”

“Some acquaintance or other, my dear, Isuppose; I am sure I do not know.”

“La!” replied Kitty, “it looks just like thatman that used to be with him before. Mr.what’s-his-name. That tall, proud man.”

“Good gracious! Mr. Darcy!—and so it does,I vow. Well, any friend of Mr. Bingley’s willalways be welcome here, to be sure; but else Imust say that I hate the very sight of him.”

Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise andconcern. She knew but little of their meet-ing in Derbyshire, and therefore felt for theawkwardness which must attend her sister,in seeing him almost for the first time afterreceiving his explanatory letter. Both sisterswere uncomfortable enough. Each felt for theother, and of course for themselves; and theirmother talked on, of her dislike of Mr. Darcy,and her resolution to be civil to him only asMr. Bingley’s friend, without being heard byeither of them. But Elizabeth had sources ofuneasiness which could not be suspected byJane, to whom she had never yet had courageto shew Mrs. Gardiner’s letter, or to relate

Chapter 53 473

her own change of sentiment towards him.To Jane, he could be only a man whose pro-posals she had refused, and whose merit shehad undervalued; but to her own more exten-sive information, he was the person to whomthe whole family were indebted for the first ofbenefits, and whom she regarded herself withan interest, if not quite so tender, at least asreasonable and just as what Jane felt for Bin-gley. Her astonishment at his coming—at hiscoming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and vol-untarily seeking her again, was almost equalto what she had known on first witnessing hisaltered behaviour in Derbyshire.

The colour which had been driven from herface, returned for half a minute with an addi-tional glow, and a smile of delight added lus-tre to her eyes, as she thought for that spaceof time that his affection and wishes must stillbe unshaken. But she would not be secure.

“Let me first see how he behaves,” said she;“it will then be early enough for expectation.”

She sat intently at work, striving to becomposed, and without daring to lift up hereyes, till anxious curiosity carried them tothe face of her sister as the servant was ap-proaching the door. Jane looked a little palerthan usual, but more sedate than Elizabethhad expected. On the gentlemen’s appearing,her colour increased; yet she received themwith tolerable ease, and with a propriety ofbehaviour equally free from any symptom ofresentment or any unnecessary complaisance.

Elizabeth said as little to either as civilitywould allow, and sat down again to her work,


with an eagerness which it did not often com-mand. She had ventured only one glance atDarcy. He looked serious, as usual; and, shethought, more as he had been used to look inHertfordshire, than as she had seen him atPemberley. But, perhaps he could not in hermother’s presence be what he was before heruncle and aunt. It was a painful, but not animprobable, conjecture.

Bingley, she had likewise seen for an in-stant, and in that short period saw him look-ing both pleased and embarrassed. He was re-ceived by Mrs. Bennet with a degree of civil-ity which made her two daughters ashamed,especially when contrasted with the cold andceremonious politeness of her curtsey and ad-dress to his friend.

Elizabeth, particularly, who knew that hermother owed to the latter the preservationof her favourite daughter from irremediableinfamy, was hurt and distressed to a mostpainful degree by a distinction so ill applied.

Darcy, after inquiring of her how Mr. andMrs. Gardiner did, a question which she couldnot answer without confusion, said scarcelyany thing. He was not seated by her; per-haps that was the reason of his silence; butit had not been so in Derbyshire. There hehad talked to her friends, when he could notto herself. But now several minutes elapsedwithout bringing the sound of his voice; andwhen occasionally, unable to resist the im-pulse of curiosity, she raised he eyes to hisface, she as often found him looking at Jane asat herself, and frequently on no object but the

Chapter 53 475

ground. More thoughtfulness and less anxi-ety to please, than when they last met, wereplainly expressed. She was disappointed, andangry with herself for being so.

“Could I expect it to be otherwise!” saidshe. “Yet why did he come?”

She was in no humour for conversationwith anyone but himself; and to him she hadhardly courage to speak.

She inquired after his sister, but could dono more.

“It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since youwent away,” said Mrs. Bennet.

He readily agreed to it.“I began to be afraid you would never come

back again. People did say you meant to quitthe place entirely at Michaelmas; but, how-ever, I hope it is not true. A great manychanges have happened in the neighbourhood,since you went away. Miss Lucas is marriedand settled. And one of my own daughters.I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, youmust have seen it in the papers. It was in TheTimes and The Courier, I know; though it wasnot put in as it ought to be. It was only said,‘Lately, George Wickham, Esq. to Miss LydiaBennet,’ without there being a syllable said ofher father, or the place where she lived, or anything. It was my brother Gardiner’s drawingup too, and I wonder how he came to makesuch an awkward business of it. Did you seeit?”

Bingley replied that he did, and made hiscongratulations. Elizabeth dared not lift upher eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore,


she could not tell.“It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to

have a daughter well married,” continued hermother, “but at the same time, Mr. Bingley, itis very hard to have her taken such a way fromme. They are gone down to Newcastle, a placequite northward, it seems, and there they areto stay I do not know how long. His regimentis there; for I suppose you have heard of hisleaving the ——shire, and of his being goneinto the regulars. Thank Heaven! he has somefriends, though perhaps not so many as he de-serves.”

Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled atMr. Darcy, was in such misery of shame, thatshe could hardly keep her seat. It drew fromher, however, the exertion of speaking, whichnothing else had so effectually done before;and she asked Bingley whether he meant tomake any stay in the country at present. Afew weeks, he believed.

“When you have killed all your own birds,Mr. Bingley,” said her mother, “I beg you willcome here, and shoot as many as you pleaseon Mr. Bennet’s manor. I am sure he will bevastly happy to oblige you, and will save allthe best of the covies for you.”

Elizabeth’s misery increased, at such un-necessary, such officious attention! Were thesame fair prospect to arise at present as hadflattered them a year ago, every thing, shewas persuaded, would be hastening to thesame vexatious conclusion. At that instant,she felt that years of happiness could notmake Jane or herself amends for moments of

Chapter 53 477

such painful confusion.“The first wish of my heart,” said she to

herself, “is never more to be in company witheither of them. Their society can afford nopleasure that will atone for such wretched-ness as this! Let me never see either one orthe other again!”

Yet the misery, for which years of happi-ness were to offer no compensation, receivedsoon afterwards material relief, from observ-ing how much the beauty of her sister re-kindled the admiration of her former lover.When first he came in, he had spoken to herbut little; but every five minutes seemed to begiving her more of his attention. He found heras handsome as she had been last year; asgood natured, and as unaffected, though notquite so chatty. Jane was anxious that no dif-ference should be perceived in her at all, andwas really persuaded that she talked as muchas ever. But her mind was so busily engaged,that she did not always know when she wassilent.

When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs.Bennet was mindful of her intended civility,and they were invited and engaged to dine atLongbourn in a few days time.

“You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bin-gley,” she added, “for when you went to townlast winter, you promised to take a family din-ner with us, as soon as you returned. I havenot forgot, you see; and I assure you, I wasvery much disappointed that you did not comeback and keep your engagement.”

Bingley looked a little silly at this reflec-


tion, and said something of his concern at hav-ing been prevented by business. They thenwent away.

Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined toask them to stay and dine there that day; but,though she always kept a very good table, shedid not think any thing less than two coursescould be good enough for a man on whom shehad such anxious designs, or satisfy the ap-petite and pride of one who had ten thousanda year.

Chapter 54

As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth walkedout to recover her spirits; or in other words, todwell without interruption on those subjectsthat must deaden them more. Mr. Darcy’s be-haviour astonished and vexed her.

“Why, if he came only to be silent, grave,and indifferent,” said she, “did he come at all?”

She could settle it in no way that gave herpleasure.

“He could be still amiable, still pleasing,to my uncle and aunt, when he was in town;and why not to me? If he fears me, why comehither? If he no longer cares for me, whysilent? Teasing, teasing, man! I will think nomore about him.”

Her resolution was for a short time invol-untarily kept by the approach of her sister,who joined her with a cheerful look, whichshowed her better satisfied with their visitors,than Elizabeth.

“Now,” said she, “that this first meeting isover, I feel perfectly easy. I know my ownstrength, and I shall never be embarrassedagain by his coming. I am glad he dines hereon Tuesday. It will then be publicly seen that,

479


on both sides, we meet only as common andindifferent acquaintance.”

“Yes, very indifferent indeed,” said Eliza-beth, laughingly. “Oh, Jane, take care.”

“My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me soweak, as to be in danger now?”

“I think you are in very great danger ofmaking him as much in love with you as ever.”

They did not see the gentlemen again tillTuesday; and Mrs. Bennet, in the meanwhile,was giving way to all the happy schemes,which the good humour and common polite-ness of Bingley, in half an hour’s visit, had re-vived.

On Tuesday there was a large party as-sembled at Longbourn; and the two who weremost anxiously expected, to the credit of theirpunctuality as sportsmen, were in very goodtime. When they repaired to the dining-room,Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whetherBingley would take the place, which, in alltheir former parties, had belonged to him, byher sister. Her prudent mother, occupied bythe same ideas, forbore to invite him to sitby herself. On entering the room, he seemedto hesitate; but Jane happened to look round,and happened to smile: it was decided. Heplaced himself by her.

Elizabeth, with a triumphant sensation,looked towards his friend. He bore it withnoble indifference, and she would have imag-ined that Bingley had received his sanction tobe happy, had she not seen his eyes likewiseturned towards Mr. Darcy, with an expression

Chapter 54 481

of half-laughing alarm.His behaviour to her sister was such, dur-

ing dinner time, as showed an admiration ofher, which, though more guarded than for-merly, persuaded Elizabeth, that if left whollyto himself, Jane’s happiness, and his own,would be speedily secured. Though she darednot depend upon the consequence, she yet re-ceived pleasure from observing his behaviour.It gave her all the animation that her spiritscould boast; for she was in no cheerful hu-mour. Mr. Darcy was almost as far from heras the table could divide them. He was onone side of her mother. She knew how littlesuch a situation would give pleasure to either,or make either appear to advantage. She wasnot near enough to hear any of their discourse,but she could see how seldom they spoke toeach other, and how formal and cold was theirmanner whenever they did. Her mother’s un-graciousness, made the sense of what theyowed him more painful to Elizabeth’s mind;and she would, at times, have given any thingto be privileged to tell him that his kindnesswas neither unknown nor unfelt by the wholeof the family.

She was in hopes that the evening wouldafford some opportunity of bringing them to-gether; that the whole of the visit would notpass away without enabling them to enterinto something more of conversation than themere ceremonious salutation attending hisentrance. Anxious and uneasy, the periodwhich passed in the drawing-room, before thegentlemen came, was wearisome and dull to


a degree that almost made her uncivil. Shelooked forward to their entrance as the pointon which all her chance of pleasure for theevening must depend.

“If he does not come to me, then,” said she,“I shall give him up for ever.”

The gentlemen came; and she thought helooked as if he would have answered herhopes; but, alas! the ladies had crowded roundthe table, where Miss Bennet was making tea,and Elizabeth pouring out the coffee, in soclose a confederacy that there was not a sin-gle vacancy near her which would admit of achair. And on the gentlemen’s approaching,one of the girls moved closer to her than ever,and said, in a whisper:

“The men shan’t come and part us, I amdetermined. We want none of them; do we?”

Darcy had walked away to another part ofthe room. She followed him with her eyes, en-vied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcelypatience enough to help anybody to coffee; andthen was enraged against herself for being sosilly!

“A man who has once been refused! Howcould I ever be foolish enough to expect a re-newal of his love? Is there one among the sex,who would not protest against such a weak-ness as a second proposal to the same woman?There is no indignity so abhorrent to theirfeelings!”

She was a little revived, however, by hisbringing back his coffee cup himself; and sheseized the opportunity of saying:

“Is your sister at Pemberley still?”

Chapter 54 483

“Yes, she will remain there till Christmas.”“And quite alone? Have all her friends left

her?”“Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others

have been gone on to Scarborough, these threeweeks.”

She could think of nothing more to say; butif he wished to converse with her, he mighthave better success. He stood by her, how-ever, for some minutes, in silence; and, at last,on the young lady’s whispering to Elizabethagain, he walked away.

When the tea-things were removed, andthe card-tables placed, the ladies all rose, andElizabeth was then hoping to be soon joinedby him, when all her views were overthrownby seeing him fall a victim to her mother’s ra-pacity for whist players, and in a few momentsafter seated with the rest of the party. Shenow lost every expectation of pleasure. Theywere confined for the evening at different ta-bles, and she had nothing to hope, but that hiseyes were so often turned towards her side ofthe room, as to make him play as unsuccess-fully as herself.

Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the twoNetherfield gentlemen to supper; but theircarriage was unluckily ordered before any ofthe others, and she had no opportunity of de-taining them.

“Well girls,” said she, as soon as they wereleft to themselves, “What say you to the day? Ithink every thing has passed off uncommonlywell, I assure you. The dinner was as welldressed as any I ever saw. The venison was


roasted to a turn—and everybody said theynever saw so fat a haunch. The soup wasfifty times better than what we had at the Lu-cases’ last week; and even Mr. Darcy acknowl-edged, that the partridges were remarkablywell done; and I suppose he has two or threeFrench cooks at least. And, my dear Jane, Inever saw you look in greater beauty. Mrs.Long said so too, for I asked her whether youdid not. And what do you think she said be-sides? ‘Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have herat Netherfield at last.’ She did indeed. I dothink Mrs. Long is as good a creature as everlived—and her nieces are very pretty behavedgirls, and not at all handsome: I like themprodigiously.”

Mrs. Bennet, in short, was in very greatspirits; she had seen enough of Bingley’s be-haviour to Jane, to be convinced that shewould get him at last; and her expectations ofadvantage to her family, when in a happy hu-mour, were so far beyond reason, that she wasquite disappointed at not seeing him thereagain the next day, to make his proposals.

“It has been a very agreeable day,” saidMiss Bennet to Elizabeth. “The party seemedso well selected, so suitable one with the other.I hope we may often meet again.”

Elizabeth smiled.“Lizzy, you must not do so. You must not

suspect me. It mortifies me. I assure youthat I have now learnt to enjoy his conversa-tion as an agreeable and sensible young man,without having a wish beyond it. I am per-fectly satisfied, from what his manners now

Chapter 54 485

are, that he never had any design of engagingmy affection. It is only that he is blessed withgreater sweetness of address, and a strongerdesire of generally pleasing, than any otherman.”

“You are very cruel,” said her sister, “youwill not let me smile, and are provoking me toit every moment.”

“How hard it is in some cases to be be-lieved!”

“And how impossible in others!”“But why should you wish to persuade me

that I feel more than I acknowledge?”“That is a question which I hardly know

how to answer. We all love to instruct, thoughwe can teach only what is not worth knowing.Forgive me; and if you persist in indifference,do not make me your confidante.”

Chapter 55

A few days after this visit, Mr. Bingley calledagain, and alone. His friend had left him thatmorning for London, but was to return homein ten days time. He sat with them abovean hour, and was in remarkably good spirits.Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine with them;but, with many expressions of concern, he con-fessed himself engaged elsewhere.

“Next time you call,” said she, “I hope weshall be more lucky.”

He should be particularly happy at anytime, etc. etc.; and if she would give him leave,would take an early opportunity of waiting onthem.

“Can you come to-morrow?”Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-

morrow; and her invitation was accepted withalacrity.

He came, and in such very good time thatthe ladies were none of them dressed. In ranMrs. Bennet to her daughter’s room, in herdressing gown, and with her hair half fin-ished, crying out:

“My dear Jane, make haste and hurrydown. He is come—Mr. Bingley is come. He

487


is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. Here,Sarah, come to Miss Bennet this moment, andhelp her on with her gown. Never mind MissLizzy’s hair.”

“We will be down as soon as we can,” saidJane; “but I dare say Kitty is forwarder thaneither of us, for she went up stairs half anhour ago.”

“Oh! hang Kitty! what has she to do withit? Come be quick, be quick! Where is yoursash, my dear?”

But when her mother was gone, Janewould not be prevailed on to go down withoutone of her sisters.

The same anxiety to get them by them-selves was visible again in the evening. Aftertea, Mr. Bennet retired to the library, as washis custom, and Mary went up stairs to her in-strument. Two obstacles of the five being thusremoved, Mrs. Bennet sat looking and wink-ing at Elizabeth and Catherine for a consider-able time, without making any impression onthem. Elizabeth would not observe her; andwhen at last Kitty did, she very innocentlysaid, “What is the matter mamma? What doyou keep winking at me for? What am I todo?”

“Nothing child, nothing. I did not wink atyou.” She then sat still five minutes longer;but unable to waste such a precious occa-sion, she suddenly got up, and saying to Kitty,“Come here, my love, I want to speak to you,”took her out of the room. Jane instantly gavea look at Elizabeth which spoke her distressat such premeditation, and her entreaty that

Chapter 55 489

she would not give in to it. In a few minutes,Mrs. Bennet half-opened the door and calledout:

“Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you.”Elizabeth was forced to go.“We may as well leave them by themselves

you know;” said her mother, as soon as shewas in the hall. “Kitty and I are going upstairsto sit in my dressing-room.”

Elizabeth made no attempt to reason withher mother, but remained quietly in the hall,till she and Kitty were out of sight, then re-turned into the drawing-room.

Mrs. Bennet’s schemes for this day wereineffectual. Bingley was every thing thatwas charming, except the professed lover ofher daughter. His ease and cheerfulness ren-dered him a most agreeable addition to theirevening party; and he bore with the ill-judgedofficiousness of the mother, and heard all hersilly remarks with a forbearance and com-mand of countenance particularly grateful tothe daughter.

He scarcely needed an invitation to staysupper; and before he went away, an engage-ment was formed, chiefly through his ownand Mrs. Bennet’s means, for his coming nextmorning to shoot with her husband.

After this day, Jane said no more of her in-difference. Not a word passed between the sis-ters concerning Bingley; but Elizabeth wentto bed in the happy belief that all must speed-ily be concluded, unless Mr. Darcy returnedwithin the stated time. Seriously, however,she felt tolerably persuaded that all this must


have taken place with that gentleman’s con-currence.

Bingley was punctual to his appointment;and he and Mr. Bennet spent the morning to-gether, as had been agreed on. The latterwas much more agreeable than his compan-ion expected. There was nothing of presump-tion or folly in Bingley that could provoke hisridicule, or disgust him into silence; and hewas more communicative, and less eccentric,than the other had ever seen him. Bingley ofcourse returned with him to dinner; and in theevening Mrs. Bennet’s invention was again atwork to get every body away from him and herdaughter. Elizabeth, who had a letter to write,went into the breakfast room for that purposesoon after tea; for as the others were all goingto sit down to cards, she could not be wantedto counteract her mother’s schemes.

But on returning to the drawing-room,when her letter was finished, she saw, to herinfinite surprise, there was reason to fear thather mother had been too ingenious for her. Onopening the door, she perceived her sister andBingley standing together over the hearth, asif engaged in earnest conversation; and hadthis led to no suspicion, the faces of both, asthey hastily turned round and moved awayfrom each other, would have told it all. Theirsituation was awkward enough; but her’s shethought was still worse. Not a syllable wasuttered by either; and Elizabeth was on thepoint of going away again, when Bingley, whoas well as the other had sat down, suddenlyrose, and whispering a few words to her sis-

Chapter 55 491

ter, ran out of the room.Jane could have no reserves from Eliza-

beth, where confidence would give pleasure;and instantly embracing her, acknowledged,with the liveliest emotion, that she was thehappiest creature in the world.

“’Tis too much!” she added, “by far toomuch. I do not deserve it. Oh! why is not ev-erybody as happy?”

Elizabeth’s congratulations were givenwith a sincerity, a warmth, a delight, whichwords could but poorly express. Every sen-tence of kindness was a fresh source of hap-piness to Jane. But she would not allow her-self to stay with her sister, or say half thatremained to be said for the present.

“I must go instantly to my mother;” shecried. “I would not on any account trifle withher affectionate solicitude; or allow her tohear it from anyone but myself. He is goneto my father already. Oh! Lizzy, to know thatwhat I have to relate will give such pleasure toall my dear family! how shall I bear so muchhappiness!”

She then hastened away to her mother,who had purposely broken up the card party,and was sitting up stairs with Kitty.

Elizabeth, who was left by herself, nowsmiled at the rapidity and ease with whichan affair was finally settled, that had giventhem so many previous months of suspenseand vexation.

“And this,” said she, “is the end of all hisfriend’s anxious circumspection! of all his sis-ter’s falsehood and contrivance! the happiest,


wisest, most reasonable end!”In a few minutes she was joined by Bingley,

whose conference with her father had beenshort and to the purpose.

“Where is your sister?” said he hastily, ashe opened the door.

“With my mother up stairs. She will bedown in a moment, I dare say.”

He then shut the door, and, coming up toher, claimed the good wishes and affection ofa sister. Elizabeth honestly and heartily ex-pressed her delight in the prospect of their re-lationship. They shook hands with great cor-diality; and then, till her sister came down,she had to listen to all he had to say of hisown happiness, and of Jane’s perfections; andin spite of his being a lover, Elizabeth reallybelieved all his expectations of felicity to berationally founded, because they had for ba-sis the excellent understanding, and super-excellent disposition of Jane, and a generalsimilarity of feeling and taste between herand himself.

It was an evening of no common delightto them all; the satisfaction of Miss Bennet’smind gave a glow of such sweet animation toher face, as made her look handsomer thanever. Kitty simpered and smiled, and hopedher turn was coming soon. Mrs. Bennet couldnot give her consent or speak her approbationin terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings,though she talked to Bingley of nothing elsefor half an hour; and when Mr. Bennet joinedthem at supper, his voice and manner plainlyshowed how really happy he was.

Chapter 55 493

Not a word, however, passed his lips inallusion to it, till their visitor took his leavefor the night; but as soon as he was gone, heturned to his daughter, and said:

“Jane, I congratulate you. You will be avery happy woman.”

Jane went to him instantly, kissed him,and thanked him for his goodness.

“You are a good girl;” he replied, “and Ihave great pleasure in thinking you will be sohappily settled. I have not a doubt of your do-ing very well together. Your tempers are byno means unlike. You are each of you so com-plying, that nothing will ever be resolved on;so easy, that every servant will cheat you; andso generous, that you will always exceed yourincome.”

“I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtless-ness in money matters would be unpardon-able in me.”

“Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Ben-net,” cried his wife, “what are you talkingof? Why, he has four or five thousand a year,and very likely more.” Then addressing herdaughter, “Oh! my dear, dear Jane, I am sohappy! I am sure I shan’t get a wink of sleepall night. I knew how it would be. I alwayssaid it must be so, at last. I was sure youcould not be so beautiful for nothing! I remem-ber, as soon as ever I saw him, when he firstcame into Hertfordshire last year, I thoughthow likely it was that you should come to-gether. Oh! he is the handsomest young manthat ever was seen!”

Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane


was beyond competition her favourite child.At that moment, she cared for no other. Heryounger sisters soon began to make interestwith her for objects of happiness which shemight in future be able to dispense.

Mary petitioned for the use of the libraryat Netherfield; and Kitty begged very hard fora few balls there every winter.

Bingley, from this time, was of course adaily visitor at Longbourn; coming frequentlybefore breakfast, and always remaining tillafter supper; unless when some barbarousneighbour, who could not be enough detested,had given him an invitation to dinner whichhe thought himself obliged to accept.

Elizabeth had now but little time for con-versation with her sister; for while he waspresent, Jane had no attention to bestow onanyone else; but she found herself consider-ably useful to both of them in those hours ofseparation that must sometimes occur. In theabsence of Jane, he always attached himselfto Elizabeth, for the pleasure of talking of her;and when Bingley was gone, Jane constantlysought the same means of relief.

“He has made me so happy,” said she, oneevening, “by telling me that he was totally ig-norant of my being in town last spring! I hadnot believed it possible.”

“I suspected as much,” replied Elizabeth.“But how did he account for it?”

“It must have been his sister’s doing. Theywere certainly no friends to his acquaintancewith me, which I cannot wonder at, since hemight have chosen so much more advanta-

Chapter 55 495

geously in many respects. But when they see,as I trust they will, that their brother is happywith me, they will learn to be contented, andwe shall be on good terms again; though wecan never be what we once were to each other.”

“That is the most unforgiving speech,” saidElizabeth, “that I ever heard you utter. Goodgirl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you againthe dupe of Miss Bingley’s pretended regard.”

“Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when hewent to town last November, he really lovedme, and nothing but a persuasion of my beingindifferent would have prevented his comingdown again!”

“He made a little mistake to be sure; but itis to the credit of his modesty.”

This naturally introduced a panegyricfrom Jane on his diffidence, and the littlevalue he put on his own good qualities. Eliz-abeth was pleased to find that he had notbetrayed the interference of his friend; for,though Jane had the most generous and for-giving heart in the world, she knew it wasa circumstance which must prejudice heragainst him.

“I am certainly the most fortunate crea-ture that ever existed!” cried Jane. “Oh! Lizzy,why am I thus singled from my family, andblessed above them all! If I could but see youas happy! If there were but such another manfor you!”

“If you were to give me forty such men, Inever could be so happy as you. Till I haveyour disposition, your goodness, I never canhave your happiness. No, no, let me shift for


myself; and, perhaps, if I have very good luck,I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time.”

The situation of affairs in the Longbournfamily could not be long a secret. Mrs. Bennetwas privileged to whisper it to Mrs. Phillips,and she ventured, without any permission, todo the same by all her neighbours in Meryton.

The Bennets were speedily pronounced tobe the luckiest family in the world, thoughonly a few weeks before, when Lydia had firstrun away, they had been generally proved tobe marked out for misfortune.

Chapter 56

One morning, about a week after Bingley’s en-gagement with Jane had been formed, as heand the females of the family were sitting to-gether in the dining-room, their attention wassuddenly drawn to the window, by the soundof a carriage; and they perceived a chaise andfour driving up the lawn. It was too earlyin the morning for visitors, and besides, theequipage did not answer to that of any of theirneighbours. The horses were post; and nei-ther the carriage, nor the livery of the servantwho preceded it, were familiar to them. As itwas certain, however, that somebody was com-ing, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Ben-net to avoid the confinement of such an intru-sion, and walk away with him into the shrub-bery. They both set off, and the conjectures ofthe remaining three continued, though withlittle satisfaction, till the door was thrownopen and their visitor entered. It was LadyCatherine de Bourgh.

They were of course all intending to besurprised; but their astonishment was beyondtheir expectation; and on the part of Mrs. Ben-net and Kitty, though she was perfectly un-

497


known to them, even inferior to what Eliza-beth felt.

She entered the room with an air morethan usually ungracious, made no other replyto Elizabeth’s salutation than a slight inclina-tion of the head, and sat down without sayinga word. Elizabeth had mentioned her name toher mother on her ladyship’s entrance, thoughno request of introduction had been made.

Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flat-tered by having a guest of such high impor-tance, received her with the utmost polite-ness. After sitting for a moment in silence,she said very stiffly to Elizabeth,

“I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. Thatlady, I suppose, is your mother.”

Elizabeth replied very concisely that shewas.

“And that I suppose is one of your sisters.”“Yes, madam,” said Mrs. Bennet, delighted

to speak to a Lady Catherine. “She is myyoungest girl but one. My youngest of all islately married, and my eldest is somewhereabout the grounds, walking with a young manwho, I believe, will soon become a part of thefamily.”

“You have a very small park here,” re-turned Lady Catherine after a short silence.

“It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, mylady, I dare say; but I assure you it is muchlarger than Sir William Lucas’s.”

“This must be a most inconvenient sittingroom for the evening, in summer; the windowsare full west.”

Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never

Chapter 56 499

sat there after dinner, and then added:“May I take the liberty of asking your la-

dyship whether you left Mr. and Mrs. Collinswell.”

“Yes, very well. I saw them the night be-fore last.”

Elizabeth now expected that she wouldproduce a letter for her from Charlotte, as itseemed the only probable motive for her call-ing. But no letter appeared, and she was com-pletely puzzled.

Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, beggedher ladyship to take some refreshment; butLady Catherine very resolutely, and not verypolitely, declined eating any thing; and then,rising up, said to Elizabeth,

“Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a pret-tyish kind of a little wilderness on one side ofyour lawn. I should be glad to take a turn init, if you will favour me with your company.”

“Go, my dear,” cried her mother, “and showher ladyship about the different walks. I thinkshe will be pleased with the hermitage.”

Elizabeth obeyed, and running into herown room for her parasol, attended her nobleguest down stairs. As they passed through thehall, Lady Catherine opened the doors intothe dining-parlour and drawing-room, andpronouncing them, after a short survey, to bedecent looking rooms, walked on.

Her carriage remained at the door, andElizabeth saw that her waiting-woman was init. They proceeded in silence along the gravelwalk that led to the copse; Elizabeth was de-termined to make no effort for conversation


with a woman who was now more than usu-ally insolent and disagreeable.

“How could I ever think her like hernephew?” said she, as she looked in her face.

As soon as they entered the copse, LadyCatherine began in the following manner:—

“You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, tounderstand the reason of my journey hither.Your own heart, your own conscience, musttell you why I come.”

Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonish-ment.

“Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I havenot been at all able to account for the honourof seeing you here.”

“Miss Bennet,” replied her ladyship, in anangry tone, “you ought to know, that I amnot to be trifled with. But however insincereyou may choose to be, you shall not find meso. My character has ever been celebratedfor its sincerity and frankness, and in a causeof such moment as this, I shall certainly notdepart from it. A report of a most alarmingnature reached me two days ago. I was toldthat not only your sister was on the point ofbeing most advantageously married, but thatyou, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in alllikelihood, be soon afterwards united to mynephew, my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. ThoughI know it must be a scandalous falsehood,though I would not injure him so much as tosuppose the truth of it possible, I instantlyresolved on setting off for this place, that Imight make my sentiments known to you.”

“If you believed it impossible to be true,”

Chapter 56 501

said Elizabeth, colouring with astonishmentand disdain, “I wonder you took the troubleof coming so far. What could your ladyshippropose by it?”

“At once to insist upon having such a reportuniversally contradicted.”

“Your coming to Longbourn, to see meand my family,” said Elizabeth coolly, “will berather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such areport is in existence.”

“If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant ofit? Has it not been industriously circulatedby yourselves? Do you not know that such areport is spread abroad?”

“I never heard that it was.”“And can you likewise declare, that there

is no foundation for it?”“I do not pretend to possess equal frank-

ness with your ladyship. You may ask ques-tions which I shall not choose to answer.”

“This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet,I insist on being satisfied. Has he, has mynephew, made you an offer of marriage?”

“Your ladyship has declared it to be impos-sible.”

“It ought to be so; it must be so, while heretains the use of his reason. But your artsand allurements may, in a moment of infatu-ation, have made him forget what he owes tohimself and to all his family. You may havedrawn him in.”

“If I have, I shall be the last person to con-fess it.”

“Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? Ihave not been accustomed to such language


as this. I am almost the nearest relation hehas in the world, and am entitled to know allhis dearest concerns.”

“But you are not entitled to know mine; norwill such behaviour as this, ever induce me tobe explicit.”

“Let me be rightly understood. This match,to which you have the presumption to aspire,can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy isengaged to my daughter. Now what have youto say?”

“Only this; that if he is so, you can haveno reason to suppose he will make an offer tome.”

Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment,and then replied:

“The engagement between them is of a pe-culiar kind. From their infancy, they havebeen intended for each other. It was thefavourite wish of his mother, as well as ofher’s. While in their cradles, we planned theunion: and now, at the moment when thewishes of both sisters would be accomplishedin their marriage, to be prevented by a youngwoman of inferior birth, of no importance inthe world, and wholly unallied to the fam-ily! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of hisfriends? To his tacit engagement with Miss deBourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of pro-priety and delicacy? Have you not heard mesay that from his earliest hours he was des-tined for his cousin?”

“Yes, and I had heard it before. But what isthat to me? If there is no other objection to mymarrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be

Chapter 56 503

kept from it by knowing that his mother andaunt wished him to marry Miss de Bourgh.You both did as much as you could in plan-ning the marriage. Its completion dependedon others. If Mr. Darcy is neither by honournor inclination confined to his cousin, why isnot he to make another choice? And if I amthat choice, why may not I accept him?”

“Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay,interest, forbid it. Yes, Miss Bennet, inter-est; for do not expect to be noticed by hisfamily or friends, if you wilfully act againstthe inclinations of all. You will be censured,slighted, and despised, by everyone connectedwith him. Your alliance will be a disgrace;your name will never even be mentioned byany of us.”

“These are heavy misfortunes,” repliedElizabeth. “But the wife of Mr. Darcy musthave such extraordinary sources of happinessnecessarily attached to her situation, that shecould, upon the whole, have no cause to re-pine.”

“Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamedof you! Is this your gratitude for my atten-tions to you last spring? Is nothing due tome on that score? Let us sit down. You areto understand, Miss Bennet, that I came herewith the determined resolution of carrying mypurpose; nor will I be dissuaded from it. Ihave not been used to submit to any person’swhims. I have not been in the habit of brook-ing disappointment.”

“That will make your ladyship’s situationat present more pitiable; but it will have no


effect on me.”“I will not be interrupted. Hear me in

silence. My daughter and my nephew areformed for each other. They are descended,on the maternal side, from the same nobleline; and, on the father’s, from respectable,honourable, and ancient—though untitled––families. Their fortune on both sides is splen-did. They are destined for each other bythe voice of every member of their respectivehouses; and what is to divide them? The up-start pretensions of a young woman withoutfamily, connections, or fortune. Is this to beendured! But it must not, shall not be. Ifyou were sensible of your own good, you wouldnot wish to quit the sphere in which you havebeen brought up.”

“In marrying your nephew, I should notconsider myself as quitting that sphere. Heis a gentleman; I am a gentleman’s daughter;so far we are equal.”

“True. You are a gentleman’s daughter.But who was your mother? Who are your un-cles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorantof their condition.”

“Whatever my connections may be,” saidElizabeth, “if your nephew does not object tothem, they can be nothing to you.”

“Tell me once for all, are you engaged tohim?”

Though Elizabeth would not, for the merepurpose of obliging Lady Catherine, have an-swered this question, she could not but say,after a moment’s deliberation:

“I am not.”

Chapter 56 505

Lady Catherine seemed pleased.“And will you promise me, never to enter

into such an engagement?”“I will make no promise of the kind.”“Miss Bennet I am shocked and aston-

ished. I expected to find a more reasonableyoung woman. But do not deceive yourselfinto a belief that I will ever recede. I shall notgo away till you have given me the assuranceI require.”

“And I certainly never shall give it. I amnot to be intimidated into anything so whollyunreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcyto marry your daughter; but would my givingyou the wished-for promise make their mar-riage at all more probable? Supposing himto be attached to me, would my refusing toaccept his hand make him wish to bestow iton his cousin? Allow me to say, Lady Cather-ine, that the arguments with which you havesupported this extraordinary application havebeen as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my char-acter, if you think I can be worked on by suchpersuasions as these. How far your nephewmight approve of your interference in his af-fairs, I cannot tell; but you have certainly noright to concern yourself in mine. I must beg,therefore, to be importuned no farther on thesubject.”

“Not so hasty, if you please. I have byno means done. To all the objections I havealready urged, I have still another to add.I am no stranger to the particulars of youryoungest sister’s infamous elopement. I know


it all; that the young man’s marrying her wasa patched-up business, at the expence of yourfather and uncles. And is such a girl to be mynephew’s sister? Is her husband, is the sonof his late father’s steward, to be his brother?Heaven and earth!—of what are you thinking?Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus pol-luted?”

“You can now have nothing farther to say,”she resentfully answered. “You have insultedme in every possible method. I must beg toreturn to the house.”

And she rose as she spoke. Lady Catherinerose also, and they turned back. Her ladyshipwas highly incensed.

“You have no regard, then, for the honourand credit of my nephew! Unfeeling, selfishgirl! Do you not consider that a connectionwith you must disgrace him in the eyes of ev-erybody?”

“Lady Catherine, I have nothing farther tosay. You know my sentiments.”

“You are then resolved to have him?”“I have said no such thing. I am only

resolved to act in that manner, which will,in my own opinion, constitute my happiness,without reference to you, or to any person sowholly unconnected with me.”

“It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me.You refuse to obey the claims of duty, honour,and gratitude. You are determined to ruinhim in the opinion of all his friends, and makehim the contempt of the world.”

“Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude,”replied Elizabeth, “have any possible claim on

Chapter 56 507

me, in the present instance. No principle ofeither would be violated by my marriage withMr. Darcy. And with regard to the resent-ment of his family, or the indignation of theworld, if the former were excited by his mar-rying me, it would not give me one moment’sconcern—and the world in general would havetoo much sense to join in the scorn.”

“And this is your real opinion! This is yourfinal resolve! Very well. I shall now know howto act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that yourambition will ever be gratified. I came to tryyou. I hoped to find you reasonable; but, de-pend upon it, I will carry my point.”

In this manner Lady Catherine talked on,till they were at the door of the carriage,when, turning hastily round, she added, “Itake no leave of you, Miss Bennet. I sendno compliments to your mother. You deserveno such attention. I am most seriously dis-pleased.”

Elizabeth made no answer; and withoutattempting to persuade her ladyship to returninto the house, walked quietly into it herself.She heard the carriage drive away as she pro-ceeded up stairs. Her mother impatiently mether at the door of the dressing-room, to askwhy Lady Catherine would not come in againand rest herself.

“She did not choose it,” said her daughter,“she would go.”

“She is a very fine-looking woman! andher calling here was prodigiously civil! for sheonly came, I suppose, to tell us the Collinseswere well. She is on her road somewhere, I


dare say, and so, passing through Meryton,thought she might as well call on you. I sup-pose she had nothing particular to say to you,Lizzy?”

Elizabeth was forced to give into a littlefalsehood here; for to acknowledge the sub-stance of their conversation was impossible.

Chapter 57

The discomposure of spirits which this ex-traordinary visit threw Elizabeth into, couldnot be easily overcome; nor could she, formany hours, learn to think of it less than in-cessantly. Lady Catherine, it appeared, hadactually taken the trouble of this journey fromRosings, for the sole purpose of breaking offher supposed engagement with Mr. Darcy. Itwas a rational scheme, to be sure! but fromwhat the report of their engagement couldoriginate, Elizabeth was at a loss to imag-ine; till she recollected that his being the inti-mate friend of Bingley, and her being the sis-ter of Jane, was enough, at a time when theexpectation of one wedding made everybodyeager for another, to supply the idea. Shehad not herself forgotten to feel that the mar-riage of her sister must bring them more fre-quently together. And her neighbours at Lu-cas lodge, therefore (for through their com-munication with the Collinses, the report, sheconcluded, had reached Lady Catherine), hadonly set that down as almost certain and im-mediate, which she had looked forward to aspossible at some future time.

509


In revolving Lady Catherine’s expressions,however, she could not help feeling some un-easiness as to the possible consequence of herpersisting in this interference. From whatshe had said of her resolution to prevent theirmarriage, it occurred to Elizabeth that shemust meditate an application to her nephew;and how he might take a similar representa-tion of the evils attached to a connection withher, she dared not pronounce. She knew notthe exact degree of his affection for his aunt,or his dependence on her judgment, but itwas natural to suppose that he thought muchhigher of her ladyship than she could do; andit was certain that, in enumerating the mis-eries of a marriage with one, whose immediateconnections were so unequal to his own, hisaunt would address him on his weakest side.With his notions of dignity, he would probablyfeel that the arguments, which to Elizabethhad appeared weak and ridiculous, containedmuch good sense and solid reasoning.

If he had been wavering before as to whathe should do, which had often seemed likely,the advice and entreaty of so near a relationmight settle every doubt, and determine himat once to be as happy as dignity unblemishedcould make him. In that case he would returnno more. Lady Catherine might see him inher way through town; and his engagement toBingley of coming again to Netherfield mustgive way.

“If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping hispromise should come to his friend within a fewdays,” she added, “I shall know how to under-

Chapter 57 511

stand it. I shall then give over every expecta-tion, every wish of his constancy. If he is sat-isfied with only regretting me, when he mighthave obtained my affections and hand, I shallsoon cease to regret him at all.”

The surprise of the rest of the family, onhearing who their visitor had been, was verygreat; but they obligingly satisfied it, withthe same kind of supposition which had ap-peased Mrs. Bennet’s curiosity; and Elizabethwas spared from much teasing on the subject.

The next morning, as she was going downstairs, she was met by her father, who cameout of his library with a letter in his hand.

“Lizzy,” said he, “I was going to look foryou; come into my room.”

She followed him thither; and her curiosityto know what he had to tell her was height-ened by the supposition of its being in somemanner connected with the letter he held. Itsuddenly struck her that it might be fromLady Catherine; and she anticipated with dis-may all the consequent explanations.

She followed her father to the fire place,and they both sat down. He then said,

“I have received a letter this morning thathas astonished me exceedingly. As it princi-pally concerns yourself, you ought to know itscontents. I did not know before, that I hadtwo daughters on the brink of matrimony. Letme congratulate you on a very important con-quest.”

The colour now rushed into Elizabeth’scheeks in the instantaneous conviction of its


being a letter from the nephew, instead ofthe aunt; and she was undetermined whethermost to be pleased that he explained him-self at all, or offended that his letter was notrather addressed to herself; when her fathercontinued:

“You look conscious. Young ladies havegreat penetration in such matters as these;but I think I may defy even your sagacity, todiscover the name of your admirer. This letteris from Mr. Collins.”

“From Mr. Collins! and what can he haveto say?”

“Something very much to the purpose ofcourse. He begins with congratulations on theapproaching nuptials of my eldest daughter,of which, it seems, he has been told by some ofthe good-natured, gossiping Lucases. I shallnot sport with your impatience, by readingwhat he says on that point. What relates toyourself, is as follows.”

“Having thus offered you the sin-cere congratulations of Mrs. Collinsand myself on this happy event, letme now add a short hint on the sub-ject of another; of which we havebeen advertised by the same au-thority. Your daughter Elizabeth, itis presumed, will not long bear thename of Bennet, after her elder sis-ter has resigned it, and the chosenpartner of her fate may be reason-ably looked up to as one of the mostillustrious personages in this land.”

Chapter 57 513

“Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who ismeant by this?”

“This young gentleman is blessed,in a peculiar way, with everything the heart of mortal can mostdesire,—splendid property, noblekindred, and extensive patronage.Yet in spite of all these tempta-tions, let me warn my cousin Eliz-abeth, and yourself, of what evilsyou may incur by a precipitate clo-sure with this gentleman’s propos-als, which, of course, you will beinclined to take immediate advan-tage of.”

“Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentle-man is? But now it comes out.”

“My motive for cautioning you is asfollows. We have reason to imaginethat his aunt, Lady Catherine deBourgh, does not look on the matchwith a friendly eye.”

“Mr. Darcy, you see, is the man! Now,Lizzy, I think I have surprised you. Couldhe, or the Lucases, have pitched on any manwithin the circle of our acquaintance, whosename would have given the lie more effectu-ally to what they related? Mr. Darcy, whonever looks at any woman but to see a blem-ish, and who probably never looked at you inhis life! It is admirable!”


Elizabeth tried to join in her father’s pleas-antry, but could only force one most reluctantsmile. Never had his wit been directed in amanner so little agreeable to her.

“Are you not diverted?”“Oh! yes. Pray read on.”

“After mentioning the likelihoodof this marriage to her ladyshiplast night, she immediately, withher usual condescension, expressedwhat she felt on the occasion; whenit become apparent, that on thescore of some family objections onthe part of my cousin, she wouldnever give her consent to what shetermed so disgraceful a match. Ithought it my duty to give thespeediest intelligence of this to mycousin, that she and her noble ad-mirer may be aware of what theyare about, and not run hastily intoa marriage which has not beenproperly sanctioned.”

“Mr. Collins moreover adds,”

“I am truly rejoiced that my cousinLydia’s sad business has been sowell hushed up, and am only con-cerned that their living togetherbefore the marriage took placeshould be so generally known. Imust not, however, neglect the du-ties of my station, or refrain from

Chapter 57 515

declaring my amazement at hear-ing that you received the youngcouple into your house as soon asthey were married. It was an en-couragement of vice; and had Ibeen the rector of Longbourn, Ishould very strenuously have op-posed it. You ought certainly to for-give them as a christian, but neverto admit them in your sight, or al-low their names to be mentioned inyour hearing.”

“That is his notion of christian forgiveness!The rest of his letter is only about his dearCharlotte’s situation, and his expectation of ayoung olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you look as ifyou did not enjoy it. You are not going to beMissish, I hope, and pretend to be affrontedat an idle report. For what do we live, but tomake sport for our neighbours, and laugh atthem in our turn?”

“Oh!” cried Elizabeth, “I am excessively di-verted. But it is so strange!”

“Yes—that is what makes it amusing. Hadthey fixed on any other man it would havebeen nothing; but his perfect indifference, andyour pointed dislike, make it so delightfullyabsurd! Much as I abominate writing, I wouldnot give up Mr. Collins’s correspondence forany consideration. Nay, when I read a letterof his, I cannot help giving him the preferenceeven over Wickham, much as I value the im-pudence and hypocrisy of my son-in-law. Andpray, Lizzy, what said Lady Catherine about


this report? Did she call to refuse her con-sent?”

To this question his daughter replied onlywith a laugh; and as it had been asked with-out the least suspicion, she was not distressedby his repeating it. Elizabeth had never beenmore at a loss to make her feelings appearwhat they were not. It was necessary to laugh,when she would rather have cried. Her fa-ther had most cruelly mortified her, by whathe said of Mr. Darcy’s indifference, and shecould do nothing but wonder at such a wantof penetration, or fear that perhaps, insteadof his seeing too little, she might have fanciedtoo much.

Chapter 58

Instead of receiving any such letter of excusefrom his friend, as Elizabeth half expectedMr. Bingley to do, he was able to bring Darcywith him to Longbourn before many days hadpassed after Lady Catherine’s visit. The gen-tlemen arrived early; and, before Mrs. Bennethad time to tell him of their having seen hisaunt, of which her daughter sat in momentarydread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone withJane, proposed their all walking out. It wasagreed to. Mrs. Bennet was not in the habit ofwalking; Mary could never spare time; but theremaining five set off together. Bingley andJane, however, soon allowed the others to out-strip them. They lagged behind, while Eliza-beth, Kitty, and Darcy were to entertain eachother. Very little was said by either; Kitty wastoo much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth wassecretly forming a desperate resolution; andperhaps he might be doing the same.

They walked towards the Lucases, becauseKitty wished to call upon Maria; and as Eliz-abeth saw no occasion for making it a generalconcern, when Kitty left them she went boldlyon with him alone. Now was the moment for

517


her resolution to be executed, and, while hercourage was high, she immediately said:

“Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature;and, for the sake of giving relief to my ownfeelings, care not how much I may be wound-ing your’s. I can no longer help thankingyou for your unexampled kindness to my poorsister. Ever since I have known it, I havebeen most anxious to acknowledge to you howgratefully I feel it. Were it known to the restof my family, I should not have merely my owngratitude to express.”

“I am sorry, exceedingly sorry,” repliedDarcy, in a tone of surprise and emotion, “thatyou have ever been informed of what may, ina mistaken light, have given you uneasiness.I did not think Mrs. Gardiner was so little tobe trusted.”

“You must not blame my aunt. Lydia’sthoughtlessness first betrayed to me that youhad been concerned in the matter; and, ofcourse, I could not rest till I knew the particu-lars. Let me thank you again and again, in thename of all my family, for that generous com-passion which induced you to take so muchtrouble, and bear so many mortifications, forthe sake of discovering them.”

“If you will thank me,” he replied, “let itbe for yourself alone. That the wish of giv-ing happiness to you might add force to theother inducements which led me on, I shallnot attempt to deny. But your family owe menothing. Much as I respect them, I believe Ithought only of you.”

Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to

Chapter 58 519

say a word. After a short pause, her compan-ion added, “You are too generous to trifle withme. If your feelings are still what they werelast April, tell me so at once. My affectionsand wishes are unchanged, but one word fromyou will silence me on this subject for ever.”

Elizabeth, feeling all the more than com-mon awkwardness and anxiety of his situa-tion, now forced herself to speak; and imme-diately, though not very fluently, gave him tounderstand that her sentiments had under-gone so material a change, since the periodto which he alluded, as to make her receivewith gratitude and pleasure his present as-surances. The happiness which this reply pro-duced, was such as he had probably never feltbefore; and he expressed himself on the oc-casion as sensibly and as warmly as a manviolently in love can be supposed to do. HadElizabeth been able to encounter his eye, shemight have seen how well the expression ofheartfelt delight, diffused over his face, be-came him; but, though she could not look, shecould listen, and he told her of feelings, which,in proving of what importance she was to him,made his affection every moment more valu-able.

They walked on, without knowing in whatdirection. There was too much to be thought,and felt, and said, for attention to any otherobjects. She soon learnt that they were in-debted for their present good understandingto the efforts of his aunt, who did call on himin her return through London, and there re-late her journey to Longbourn, its motive, and


the substance of her conversation with Eliza-beth; dwelling emphatically on every expres-sion of the latter which, in her ladyship’s ap-prehension, peculiarly denoted her perverse-ness and assurance; in the belief that such arelation must assist her endeavours to obtainthat promise from her nephew which she hadrefused to give. But, unluckily for her lady-ship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.

“It taught me to hope,” said he, “as I hadscarcely ever allowed myself to hope before.I knew enough of your disposition to be cer-tain that, had you been absolutely, irrevoca-bly decided against me, you would have ac-knowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly andopenly.”

Elizabeth coloured and laughed as shereplied, “Yes, you know enough of my frank-ness to believe me capable of that. After abus-ing you so abominably to your face, I couldhave no scruple in abusing you to all your re-lations.”

“What did you say of me, that I did notdeserve? For, though your accusations wereill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, mybehaviour to you at the time had merited theseverest reproof. It was unpardonable. I can-not think of it without abhorrence.”

“We will not quarrel for the greater shareof blame annexed to that evening,” said Eliza-beth. “The conduct of neither, if strictly exam-ined, will be irreproachable; but since then,we have both, I hope, improved in civility.”

“I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself.The recollection of what I then said, of my

Chapter 58 521

conduct, my manners, my expressions duringthe whole of it, is now, and has been manymonths, inexpressibly painful to me. Your re-proof, so well applied, I shall never forget:‘had you behaved in a more gentlemanlikemanner.’ Those were your words. You knownot, you can scarcely conceive, how they havetortured me;—though it was some time, I con-fess, before I was reasonable enough to allowtheir justice.”

“I was certainly very far from expectingthem to make so strong an impression. I hadnot the smallest idea of their being ever felt insuch a way.”

“I can easily believe it. You thought methen devoid of every proper feeling, I am sureyou did. The turn of your countenance I shallnever forget, as you said that I could not haveaddressed you in any possible way that wouldinduce you to accept me.”

“Oh! do not repeat what I then said. Theserecollections will not do at all. I assure youthat I have long been most heartily ashamedof it.”

Darcy mentioned his letter. “Did it,” saidhe, “did it soon make you think better of me?Did you, on reading it, give any credit to itscontents?”

She explained what its effect on her hadbeen, and how gradually all her former preju-dices had been removed.

“I knew,” said he, “that what I wrote mustgive you pain, but it was necessary. I hopeyou have destroyed the letter. There wasone part especially, the opening of it, which


I should dread your having the power of read-ing again. I can remember some expressionswhich might justly make you hate me.”

“The letter shall certainly be burnt, if youbelieve it essential to the preservation of myregard; but, though we have both reason tothink my opinions not entirely unalterable,they are not, I hope, quite so easily changedas that implies.”

“When I wrote that letter,” replied Darcy,“I believed myself perfectly calm and cool, butI am since convinced that it was written in adreadful bitterness of spirit.”

“The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness,but it did not end so. The adieu is charityitself. But think no more of the letter. Thefeelings of the person who wrote, and the per-son who received it, are now so widely differ-ent from what they were then, that every un-pleasant circumstance attending it ought tobe forgotten. You must learn some of my phi-losophy. Think only of the past as its remem-brance gives you pleasure.”

“I cannot give you credit for any philosophyof the kind. Your retrospections must be so to-tally void of reproach, that the contentmentarising from them is not of philosophy, but,what is much better, of innocence. But withme, it is not so. Painful recollections will in-trude which cannot, which ought not, to be re-pelled. I have been a selfish being all my life,in practice, though not in principle. As a childI was taught what was right, but I was nottaught to correct my temper. I was given goodprinciples, but left to follow them in pride and

Chapter 58 523

conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for manyyears an only child), I was spoilt by my par-ents, who, though good themselves (my father,particularly, all that was benevolent and ami-able), allowed, encouraged, almost taught meto be selfish and overbearing; to care for nonebeyond my own family circle; to think meanlyof all the rest of the world; to wish at least tothink meanly of their sense and worth com-pared with my own. Such I was, from eightto eight and twenty; and such I might stillhave been but for you, dearest, loveliest Eliz-abeth! What do I not owe you! You taught mea lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advan-tageous. By you, I was properly humbled. Icame to you without a doubt of my reception.You showed me how insufficient were all mypretensions to please a woman worthy of be-ing pleased.”

“Had you then persuaded yourself that Ishould?”

“Indeed I had. What will you think of myvanity? I believed you to be wishing, expect-ing my addresses.”

“My manners must have been in fault, butnot intentionally, I assure you. I never meantto deceive you, but my spirits might often leadme wrong. How you must have hated me afterthat evening?”

“Hate you! I was angry perhaps at first,but my anger soon began to take a proper di-rection.”

“I am almost afraid of asking what youthought of me, when we met at Pemberley.You blamed me for coming?”


“No indeed; I felt nothing but surprise.”“Your surprise could not be greater than

mine in being noticed by you. My consciencetold me that I deserved no extraordinary po-liteness, and I confess that I did not expect toreceive more than my due.”

“My object then,” replied Darcy, “was toshow you, by every civility in my power, thatI was not so mean as to resent the past; andI hoped to obtain your forgiveness, to lessenyour ill opinion, by letting you see that yourreproofs had been attended to. How soonany other wishes introduced themselves I canhardly tell, but I believe in about half an hourafter I had seen you.”

He then told her of Georgiana’s delight inher acquaintance, and of her disappointmentat its sudden interruption; which naturallyleading to the cause of that interruption, shesoon learnt that his resolution of following herfrom Derbyshire in quest of her sister hadbeen formed before he quitted the inn, andthat his gravity and thoughtfulness there hadarisen from no other struggles than what sucha purpose must comprehend.

She expressed her gratitude again, but itwas too painful a subject to each, to be dwelton farther.

After walking several miles in a leisurelymanner, and too busy to know any thing aboutit, they found at last, on examining theirwatches, that it was time to be at home.

“What could become of Mr. Bingley andJane!” was a wonder which introduced the dis-cussion of their affairs. Darcy was delighted

Chapter 58 525

with their engagement; his friend had givenhim the earliest information of it.

“I must ask whether you were surprised?”said Elizabeth.

“Not at all. When I went away, I felt thatit would soon happen.”

“That is to say, you had given your per-mission. I guessed as much.” And though heexclaimed at the term, she found that it hadbeen pretty much the case.

“On the evening before my going to Lon-don,” said he, “I made a confession to him,which I believe I ought to have made long ago.I told him of all that had occurred to makemy former interference in his affairs absurdand impertinent. His surprise was great. Hehad never had the slightest suspicion. I toldhim, moreover, that I believed myself mis-taken in supposing, as I had done, that yoursister was indifferent to him; and as I couldeasily perceive that his attachment to her wasunabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness to-gether.”

Elizabeth could not help smiling at hiseasy manner of directing his friend.

“Did you speak from your own observa-tion,” said she, “when you told him that mysister loved him, or merely from my informa-tion last spring?”

“From the former. I had narrowly observedher during the two visits which I had latelymade here; and I was convinced of her affec-tion.”

“And your assurance of it, I suppose, car-ried immediate conviction to him.”


“It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly mod-est. His diffidence had prevented his depend-ing on his own judgment in so anxious a case,but his reliance on mine made every thingeasy. I was obliged to confess one thing, whichfor a time, and not unjustly, offended him. Icould not allow myself to conceal that your sis-ter had been in town three months last win-ter, that I had known it, and purposely kept itfrom him. He was angry. But his anger, I ampersuaded, lasted no longer than he remainedin any doubt of your sister’s sentiments. Hehas heartily forgiven me now.”

Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bing-ley had been a most delightful friend; so eas-ily guided that his worth was invaluable; butshe checked herself. She remembered that hehad yet to learn to be laughed at, and it wasrather too early to begin. In anticipating thehappiness of Bingley, which of course was tobe inferior only to his own, he continued theconversation till they reached the house. Inthe hall they parted.

Chapter 59

“My dear Lizzy, where can you have beenwalking to?” was a question which Elizabethreceived from Jane as soon as she enteredtheir room, and from all the others when theysat down to table. She had only to say in reply,that they had wandered about, till she was be-yond her own knowledge. She coloured as shespoke; but neither that, nor any thing else,awakened a suspicion of the truth.

The evening passed quietly, unmarked byany thing extraordinary. The acknowledgedlovers talked and laughed, the unacknowl-edged were silent. Darcy was not of a dispo-sition in which happiness overflows in mirth;and Elizabeth, agitated and confused, ratherknew that she was happy than felt herself tobe so; for, besides the immediate embarrass-ment, there were other evils before her. Sheanticipated what would be felt in the familywhen her situation became known; she wasaware that no one liked him but Jane; andeven feared that with the others it was a dis-like which not all his fortune and consequencemight do away.

At night she opened her heart to Jane.

527

528 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

Though suspicion was very far from Miss Ben-net’s general habits, she was absolutely in-credulous here.

“You are joking, Lizzy. This cannotbe!—engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, you shallnot deceive me. I know it to be impossible.”

“This is a wretched beginning indeed! Mysole dependence was on you; and I am surenobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet,indeed, I am in earnest. I speak nothing butthe truth. He still loves me, and we are en-gaged.”

Jane looked at her doubtingly. “Oh, Lizzy!it cannot be. I know how much you dislikehim.”

“You know nothing of the matter. That isall to be forgot. Perhaps I did not always lovehim so well as I do now. But in such cases asthese, a good memory is unpardonable. This isthe last time I shall ever remember it myself.”

Miss Bennet still looked all amazement.Elizabeth again, and more seriously assuredher of its truth.

“Good Heaven! can it be really so! Yet nowI must believe you,” cried Jane. “My dear, dearLizzy, I would—I do congratulate you—butare you certain? forgive the question—are youquite certain that you can be happy withhim?”

“There can be no doubt of that. It is settledbetween us already, that we are to be the hap-piest couple in the world. But are you pleased,Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?”

“Very, very much. Nothing could give ei-ther Bingley or myself more delight. But we

CHAPTER 59 529

considered it, we talked of it as impossible.And do you really love him quite well enough?Oh, Lizzy! do any thing rather than marrywithout affection. Are you quite sure that youfeel what you ought to do?”

“Oh, yes! You will only think I feel morethan I ought to do, when I tell you all.”

“What do you mean?”“Why, I must confess that I love him bet-

ter than I do Bingley. I am afraid you will beangry.”

“My dearest sister, now be serious. I wantto talk very seriously. Let me know everything that I am to know, without delay. Willyou tell me how long you have loved him?”

“It has been coming on so gradually, thatI hardly know when it began. But I believe Imust date it from my first seeing his beautifulgrounds at Pemberley.”

Another entreaty that she would be seri-ous, however, produced the desired effect; andshe soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assur-ances of attachment. When convinced on thatarticle, Miss Bennet had nothing farther towish.

“Now I am quite happy,” said she, “for youwill be as happy as myself. I always had avalue for him. Were it for nothing but his loveof you, I must always have esteemed him; butnow, as Bingley’s friend and your husband,there can be only Bingley and yourself moredear to me. But Lizzy, you have been verysly, very reserved with me. How little didyou tell me of what passed at Pemberley andLambton! I owe all that I know of it to an-


other, not to you.”Elizabeth told her the motives of her se-

crecy. She had been unwilling to mention Bin-gley; and the unsettled state of her own feel-ings had made her equally avoid the nameof his friend. But now she would no longerconceal from her his share in Lydia’s mar-riage. All was acknowledged, and half thenight spent in conversation.

“Good gracious!” cried Mrs. Bennet, as shestood at a window the next morning, “if thatdisagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming hereagain with our dear Bingley! What can hemean by being so tiresome as to be alwayscoming here? I had no notion but he would goa-shooting, or something or other, and not dis-turb us with his company. What shall we dowith him? Lizzy, you must walk out with himagain, that he may not be in Bingley’s way.”

Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at soconvenient a proposal; yet was really vexedthat her mother should be always giving himsuch an epithet.

As soon as they entered, Bingley lookedat her so expressively, and shook hands withsuch warmth, as left no doubt of his good in-formation; and he soon afterwards said aloud,“Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes here-abouts in which Lizzy may lose her way againto-day?”

“I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty,”said Mrs. Bennet, “to walk to Oakham Mountthis morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr.Darcy has never seen the view.”

CHAPTER 59 531

“It may do very well for the others,” repliedMr. Bingley; “but I am sure it will be toomuch for Kitty. Won’t it, Kitty?” Kitty ownedthat she had rather stay at home. Darcy pro-fessed a great curiosity to see the view fromthe Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented.As she went up stairs to get ready, Mrs. Ben-net followed her, saying:

“I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you shouldbe forced to have that disagreeable man all toyourself. But I hope you will not mind it: itis all for Jane’s sake, you know; and there isno occasion for talking to him, except just nowand then. So, do not put yourself to inconve-nience.”

During their walk, it was resolved thatMr. Bennet’s consent should be asked in thecourse of the evening. Elizabeth reserved toherself the application for her mother’s. Shecould not determine how her mother wouldtake it; sometimes doubting whether all hiswealth and grandeur would be enough to over-come her abhorrence of the man. But whethershe were violently set against the match, orviolently delighted with it, it was certain thather manner would be equally ill adapted todo credit to her sense; and she could no morebear that Mr. Darcy should hear the first rap-tures of her joy, than the first vehemence ofher disapprobation.

In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet with-drew to the library, she saw Mr. Darcy risealso and follow him, and her agitation on see-ing it was extreme. She did not fear her fa-


ther’s opposition, but he was going to be madeunhappy; and that it should be through hermeans—that she, his favourite child, shouldbe distressing him by her choice, should be fill-ing him with fears and regrets in disposing ofher—was a wretched reflection, and she sat inmisery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when,looking at him, she was a little relieved by hissmile. In a few minutes he approached thetable where she was sitting with Kitty; and,while pretending to admire her work said ina whisper, “Go to your father, he wants you inthe library.” She was gone directly.

Her father was walking about the room,looking grave and anxious. “Lizzy,” said he,“what are you doing? Are you out of yoursenses, to be accepting this man? Have notyou always hated him?”

How earnestly did she then wish that herformer opinions had been more reasonable,her expressions more moderate! It would havespared her from explanations and professionswhich it was exceedingly awkward to give;but they were now necessary, and she assuredhim, with some confusion, of her attachmentto Mr. Darcy.

“Or, in other words, you are determined tohave him. He is rich, to be sure, and you mayhave more fine clothes and fine carriages thanJane. But will they make you happy?”

“Have you any other objection,” said Eliza-beth, “than your belief of my indifference?”

“None at all. We all know him to be aproud, unpleasant sort of man; but this wouldbe nothing if you really liked him.”

CHAPTER 59 533

“I do, I do like him,” she replied, with tearsin her eyes, “I love him. Indeed he has no im-proper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You donot know what he really is; then pray do notpain me by speaking of him in such terms.”

“Lizzy,” said her father, “I have given himmy consent. He is the kind of man, indeed, towhom I should never dare refuse any thing,which he condescended to ask. I now giveit to you, if you are resolved on having him.But let me advise you to think better of it. Iknow your disposition, Lizzy. I know that youcould be neither happy nor respectable, unlessyou truly esteemed your husband; unless youlooked up to him as a superior. Your lively tal-ents would place you in the greatest dangerin an unequal marriage. You could scarcelyescape discredit and misery. My child, let menot have the grief of seeing you unable to re-spect your partner in life. You know not whatyou are about.”

Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnestand solemn in her reply; and at length, byrepeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was re-ally the object of her choice, by explainingthe gradual change which her estimation ofhim had undergone, relating her absolute cer-tainty that his affection was not the work of aday, but had stood the test of many monthssuspense, and enumerating with energy allhis good qualities, she did conquer her father’sincredulity, and reconcile him to the match.

“Well, my dear,” said he, when she ceasedspeaking, “I have no more to say. If this be thecase, he deserves you. I could not have parted


with you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy.”To complete the favourable impression,

she then told him what Mr. Darcy had vol-untarily done for Lydia. He heard her withastonishment.

“This is an evening of wonders, indeed!And so, Darcy did every thing; made upthe match, gave the money, paid the fellow’sdebts, and got him his commission! So muchthe better. It will save me a world of troubleand economy. Had it been your uncle’s doing, Imust and would have paid him; but these vio-lent young lovers carry every thing their ownway. I shall offer to pay him to-morrow; hewill rant and storm about his love for you, andthere will be an end of the matter.”

He then recollected her embarrassment afew days before, on his reading Mr. Collins’sletter; and after laughing at her some time, al-lowed her at last to go—saying, as she quittedthe room, “If any young men come for Mary orKitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure.”

Elizabeth’s mind was now relieved from avery heavy weight; and, after half an hour’squiet reflection in her own room, she was ableto join the others with tolerable composure.Every thing was too recent for gaiety, but theevening passed tranquilly away; there wasno longer any thing material to be dreaded,and the comfort of ease and familiarity wouldcome in time.

When her mother went up to her dressing-room at night, she followed her, and madethe important communication. Its effect wasmost extraordinary; for on first hearing it,

CHAPTER 59 535

Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and unable to ut-ter a syllable. Nor was it under many, manyminutes that she could comprehend what sheheard; though not in general backward tocredit what was for the advantage of her fam-ily, or that came in the shape of a lover to anyof them. She began at length to recover, to fid-get about in her chair, get up, sit down again,wonder, and bless herself.

“Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think!dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thoughtit! And is it really true? Oh! my sweetestLizzy! how rich and how great you will be!What pin-money, what jewels, what carriagesyou will have! Jane’s is nothing to it—nothingat all. I am so pleased—so happy. Such acharming man!—so handsome! so tall!—Oh,my dear Lizzy! pray apologise for my havingdisliked him so much before. I hope he willoverlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town!Every thing that is charming! Three daugh-ters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, Lord!What will become of me. I shall go distracted.”

This was enough to prove that her appro-bation need not be doubted: and Elizabeth, re-joicing that such an effusion was heard onlyby herself, soon went away. But before shehad been three minutes in her own room, hermother followed her.

“My dearest child,” she cried, “I can thinkof nothing else! Ten thousand a year, and verylikely more! ’Tis as good as a Lord! And aspecial licence. You must and shall be marriedby a special licence. But my dearest love, tellme what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond


of, that I may have it to-morrow.”This was a sad omen of what her mother’s

behaviour to the gentleman himself might be;and Elizabeth found that, though in the cer-tain possession of his warmest affection, andsecure of her relations’ consent, there was stillsomething to be wished for. But the morrowpassed off much better than she expected; forMrs. Bennet luckily stood in such awe of herintended son-in-law that she ventured not tospeak to him, unless it was in her power to of-fer him any attention, or mark her deferencefor his opinion.

Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing herfather taking pains to get acquainted withhim; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that hewas rising every hour in his esteem.

“I admire all my three sons-in-law highly,”said he. “Wickham, perhaps, is my favourite;but I think I shall like your husband quite aswell as Jane’s.”

Chapter 60

Elizabeth’s spirits soon rising to playfulnessagain, she wanted Mr. Darcy to account forhis having ever fallen in love with her. “Howcould you begin?” said she. “I can comprehendyour going on charmingly, when you had oncemade a beginning; but what could set you offin the first place?”

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or thelook, or the words, which laid the foundation.It is too long ago. I was in the middle before Iknew that I had begun.”

“My beauty you had early withstood, andas for my manners—my behaviour to you wasat least always bordering on the uncivil, and Inever spoke to you without rather wishing togive you pain than not. Now be sincere; didyou admire me for my impertinence?”

“For the liveliness of your mind, I did.”“You may as well call it impertinence at

once. It was very little less. The fact is, thatyou were sick of civility, of deference, of of-ficious attention. You were disgusted withthe women who were always speaking, andlooking, and thinking for your approbationalone. I roused, and interested you, because

537


I was so unlike them. Had you not been re-ally amiable, you would have hated me for it;but in spite of the pains you took to disguiseyourself, your feelings were always noble andjust; and in your heart, you thoroughly de-spised the persons who so assiduously courtedyou. There—I have saved you the trouble ofaccounting for it; and really, all things con-sidered, I begin to think it perfectly reason-able. To be sure, you knew no actual good ofme—but nobody thinks of that when they fallin love.”

“Was there no good in your affectionate be-haviour to Jane while she was ill at Nether-field?”

“Dearest Jane! who could have done lessfor her? But make a virtue of it by all means.My good qualities are under your protection,and you are to exaggerate them as much aspossible; and, in return, it belongs to me tofind occasions for teasing and quarrelling withyou as often as may be; and I shall begin di-rectly by asking you what made you so unwill-ing to come to the point at last. What madeyou so shy of me, when you first called, andafterwards dined here? Why, especially, whenyou called, did you look as if you did not careabout me?”

“Because you were grave and silent, andgave me no encouragement.”

“But I was embarrassed.”“And so was I.”“You might have talked to me more when

you came to dinner.”“A man who had felt less, might.”

CHAPTER 60 539

“How unlucky that you should have a rea-sonable answer to give, and that I should be soreasonable as to admit it! But I wonder howlong you would have gone on, if you had beenleft to yourself. I wonder when you wouldhave spoken, if I had not asked you! My res-olution of thanking you for your kindness toLydia had certainly great effect. Too much, Iam afraid; for what becomes of the moral, ifour comfort springs from a breach of promise?for I ought not to have mentioned the subject.This will never do.”

“You need not distress yourself. The moralwill be perfectly fair. Lady Catherine’s un-justifiable endeavours to separate us were themeans of removing all my doubts. I am notindebted for my present happiness to your ea-ger desire of expressing your gratitude. I wasnot in a humour to wait for any opening ofyour’s. My aunt’s intelligence had given mehope, and I was determined at once to knowevery thing.”

“Lady Catherine has been of infinite use,which ought to make her happy, for she lovesto be of use. But tell me, what did you comedown to Netherfield for? Was it merely to rideto Longbourn and be embarrassed? or had youintended any more serious consequence?”

“My real purpose was to see you, and tojudge, if I could, whether I might ever hopeto make you love me. My avowed one, or whatI avowed to myself, was to see whether yoursister were still partial to Bingley, and if shewere, to make the confession to him which Ihave since made.”


“Shall you ever have courage to announceto Lady Catherine what is to befall her?”

“I am more likely to want more time thancourage, Elizabeth. But it ought to done, andif you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall bedone directly.”

“And if I had not a letter to write myself,I might sit by you and admire the evennessof your writing, as another young lady oncedid. But I have an aunt, too, who must not belonger neglected.”

From an unwillingness to confess howmuch her intimacy with Mr. Darcy had beenover-rated, Elizabeth had never yet answeredMrs. Gardiner’s long letter; but now, havingthat to communicate which she knew wouldbe most welcome, she was almost ashamedto find that her uncle and aunt had alreadylost three days of happiness, and immediatelywrote as follows:

“I would have thanked you be-fore, my dear aunt, as I ought tohave done, for your long, kind, sat-isfactory, detail of particulars; butto say the truth, I was too cross towrite. You supposed more than re-ally existed. But now suppose asmuch as you choose; give a loose toyour fancy, indulge your imagina-tion in every possible flight whichthe subject will afford, and unlessyou believe me actually married,you cannot greatly err. You mustwrite again very soon, and praise

CHAPTER 60 541

him a great deal more than you didin your last. I thank you, again andagain, for not going to the Lakes.How could I be so silly as to wishit! Your idea of the ponies is de-lightful. We will go round the Parkevery day. I am the happiest crea-ture in the world. Perhaps otherpeople have said so before, but notone with such justice. I am happiereven than Jane; she only smiles,I laugh. Mr. Darcy sends you allthe love in the world that he canspare from me. You are all to cometo Pemberley at Christmas. Yours,etc.”

Mr. Darcy’s letter to Lady Catherine was in adifferent style; and still different from eitherwas what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, inreply to his last.

“DEAR SIR,“I must trouble you once more

for congratulations. Elizabeth willsoon be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Con-sole Lady Catherine as well as youcan. But, if I were you, I wouldstand by the nephew. He has moreto give.

“Yours sincerely, etc.”

Miss Bingley’s congratulations to her brother,on his approaching marriage, were all thatwas affectionate and insincere. She wrote


even to Jane on the occasion, to express herdelight, and repeat all her former professionsof regard. Jane was not deceived, but she wasaffected; and though feeling no reliance onher, could not help writing her a much kinderanswer than she knew was deserved.

The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on re-ceiving similar information, was as sincere asher brother’s in sending it. Four sides of pa-per were insufficient to contain all her delight,and all her earnest desire of being loved by hersister.

Before any answer could arrive from Mr.Collins, or any congratulations to Elizabethfrom his wife, the Longbourn family heardthat the Collinses were come themselves toLucas lodge. The reason of this sudden re-moval was soon evident. Lady Catherine hadbeen rendered so exceedingly angry by thecontents of her nephew’s letter, that Char-lotte, really rejoicing in the match, was anx-ious to get away till the storm was blown over.At such a moment, the arrival of her friendwas a sincere pleasure to Elizabeth, though inthe course of their meetings she must some-times think the pleasure dearly bought, whenshe saw Mr. Darcy exposed to all the parad-ing and obsequious civility of her husband. Hebore it, however, with admirable calmness. Hecould even listen to Sir William Lucas, whenhe complimented him on carrying away thebrightest jewel of the country, and expressedhis hopes of their all meeting frequently at St.James’s, with very decent composure. If he didshrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir William

CHAPTER 60 543

was out of sight.Mrs. Phillips’s vulgarity was another, and

perhaps a greater, tax on his forbearance; andthough Mrs. Phillips, as well as her sister,stood in too much awe of him to speak withthe familiarity which Bingley’s good humourencouraged, yet, whenever she did speak, shemust be vulgar. Nor was her respect for him,though it made her more quiet, at all likelyto make her more elegant. Elizabeth did allshe could to shield him from the frequent no-tice of either, and was ever anxious to keephim to herself, and to those of her family withwhom he might converse without mortifica-tion; and though the uncomfortable feelingsarising from all this took from the season ofcourtship much of its pleasure, it added to thehope of the future; and she looked forwardwith delight to the time when they should beremoved from society so little pleasing to ei-ther, to all the comfort and elegance of theirfamily party at Pemberley.

Chapter 61

Happy for all her maternal feelings was theday on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of hertwo most deserving daughters. With whatdelighted pride she afterwards visited Mrs.Bingley, and talked of Mrs. Darcy, may beguessed. I wish I could say, for the sakeof her family, that the accomplishment ofher earnest desire in the establishment of somany of her children produced so happy aneffect as to make her a sensible, amiable,well-informed woman for the rest of her life;though perhaps it was lucky for her husband,who might not have relished domestic felicityin so unusual a form, that she still was occa-sionally nervous and invariably silly.

Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter ex-ceedingly; his affection for her drew him of-tener from home than any thing else could do.He delighted in going to Pemberley, especiallywhen he was least expected.

Mr. Bingley and Jane remained at Nether-field only a twelvemonth. So near a vicinityto her mother and Meryton relations was notdesirable even to his easy temper, or her af-fectionate heart. The darling wish of his sis-

545


ters was then gratified; he bought an estatein a neighbouring county to Derbyshire, andJane and Elizabeth, in addition to every othersource of happiness, were within thirty milesof each other.

Kitty, to her very material advantage,spent the chief of her time with her two eldersisters. In society so superior to what she hadgenerally known, her improvement was great.She was not of so ungovernable a temper asLydia; and, removed from the influence of Ly-dia’s example, she became, by proper atten-tion and management, less irritable, less ig-norant, and less insipid. From the farther dis-advantage of Lydia’s society she was of coursecarefully kept, and though Mrs. Wickham fre-quently invited her to come and stay with her,with the promise of balls and young men, herfather would never consent to her going.

Mary was the only daughter who remainedat home; and she was necessarily drawn fromthe pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Ben-net’s being quite unable to sit alone. Mary wasobliged to mix more with the world, but shecould still moralize over every morning visit;and as she was no longer mortified by com-parisons between her sisters’ beauty and herown, it was suspected by her father that shesubmitted to the change without much reluc-tance.

As for Wickham and Lydia, their char-acters suffered no revolution from the mar-riage of her sisters. He bore with philosophythe conviction that Elizabeth must now be-come acquainted with whatever of his ingrat-

CHAPTER 61 547

itude and falsehood had before been unknownto her; and in spite of every thing, was notwholly without hope that Darcy might yet beprevailed on to make his fortune. The congrat-ulatory letter which Elizabeth received fromLydia on her marriage, explained to her that,by his wife at least, if not by himself, such ahope was cherished. The letter was to this ef-fect:

“MY DEAR LIZZY,“I wish you joy. If you love Mr.

Darcy half as well as I do my dearWickham, you must be very happy.It is a great comfort to have youso rich, and when you have noth-ing else to do, I hope you will thinkof us. I am sure Wickham wouldlike a place at court very much, andI do not think we shall have quitemoney enough to live upon withoutsome help. Any place would do, ofabout three or four hundred a year;but however, do not speak to Mr.Darcy about it, if you had rathernot.

“Yours, etc.”

As it happened that Elizabeth had muchrather not, she endeavoured in her answer toput an end to every entreaty and expectationof the kind. Such relief, however, as it was inher power to afford, by the practice of whatmight be called economy in her own privateexpences, she frequently sent them. It had al-ways been evident to her that such an income


as theirs, under the direction of two personsso extravagant in their wants, and heedless ofthe future, must be very insufficient to theirsupport; and whenever they changed theirquarters, either Jane or herself were sure ofbeing applied to for some little assistance to-wards discharging their bills. Their mannerof living, even when the restoration of peacedismissed them to a home, was unsettled inthe extreme. They were always moving fromplace to place in quest of a cheap situation,and always spending more than they ought.His affection for her soon sunk into indiffer-ence; her’s lasted a little longer; and in spiteof her youth and her manners, she retained allthe claims to reputation which her marriagehad given her.

Though Darcy could never receive him atPemberley, yet, for Elizabeth’s sake, he as-sisted him farther in his profession. Lydiawas occasionally a visitor there, when herhusband was gone to enjoy himself in Londonor Bath; and with the Bingleys they both ofthem frequently staid so long, that even Bing-ley’s good humour was overcome, and he pro-ceeded so far as to talk of giving them a hintto be gone.

Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified byDarcy’s marriage; but as she thought it advis-able to retain the right of visiting at Pember-ley, she dropt all her resentment; was fonderthan ever of Georgiana, almost as attentive toDarcy as heretofore, and paid off every arrearof civility to Elizabeth.

Pemberley was now Georgiana’s home; and

CHAPTER 61 549

the attachment of the sisters was exactly whatDarcy had hoped to see. They were ableto love each other even as well as they in-tended. Georgiana had the highest opinionin the world of Elizabeth; though at first sheoften listened with an astonishment border-ing on alarm at her lively, sportive, manner oftalking to her brother. He, who had always in-spired in herself a respect which almost over-came her affection, she now saw the object ofopen pleasantry. Her mind received knowl-edge which had never before fallen in her way.By Elizabeth’s instructions, she began to com-prehend that a woman may take liberties withher husband which a brother will not alwaysallow in a sister more than ten years youngerthan himself.

Lady Catherine was extremely indignanton the marriage of her nephew; and as shegave way to all the genuine frankness of hercharacter in her reply to the letter which an-nounced its arrangement, she sent him lan-guage so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth,that for some time all intercourse was at anend. But at length, by Elizabeth’s persuasion,he was prevailed on to overlook the offence,and seek a reconciliation; and, after a littlefarther resistance on the part of his aunt, herresentment gave way, either to her affectionfor him, or her curiosity to see how his wifeconducted herself; and she condescended towait on them at Pemberley, in spite of thatpollution which its woods had received, notmerely from the presence of such a mistress,but the visits of her uncle and aunt from the


city.With the Gardiners, they were always on

the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well asElizabeth, really loved them; and they wereboth ever sensible of the warmest gratitudetowards the persons who, by bringing her intoDerbyshire, had been the means of unitingthem.

pride and prejudice · 2008. 1. 23. · chapter 28 203 chapter 29 209 chapter 30 219 chapter 31 225...

Documents