Gay Pride and Prejudice (7 page)

Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned instantly to Jane, worrying over the remarks Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy would share regarding her relations’ behaviour, for she did not believe that the kind incarnation of the former was the genuine article. Caroline, however, like her brother, could not be prevailed upon to join in any censure of the Bennets, in spite of Mr. Darcy’s attempted witticisms on
fine eyes
.

Chapter Ten

T
HE DAY PASSED MUCH AS THE DAY BEFORE
had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Elizabeth joined their party in the drawing-room. The loo-table, however, did not reappear. Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was reading a book and attending to the progress of his letter. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.

Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Caroline and her companion.

“You write uncommonly fast. You must be writing to a favorite connection.”

“You are mistaken, I write rather slowly. And I am writing to Georgiana, as I have already told you.”

“Again? This is the third in as many days. What a devoted brother!”

To this he made no answer.

“Pray tell your sister that I long to see her.”

“I have already told her so once, by your desire.”

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

“They are generally long; but whether always charming, it is not for me to determine.”

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

“That will not do for a compliment to Darcy,” said her brother, “because he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?”

“My style of writing is, admittedly, very different from yours.”

“Charles writes in the most careless way imaginable,” said Caroline, directing her comments to Elizabeth. “He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest.”

“My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them—by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents.”

“Your humility, Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth, “must disarm reproof.”

“Nothing is more deceitful,” announced Darcy, “than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes, indeed, an indirect boast.”

“And which of the two do you call my little piece of modesty?” asked Bingley.

“An indirect boast,” replied his friend promptly; “for you are proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which, if not estimable, you think at least highly interesting. When you told Mrs. Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved upon quitting Netherfield you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of compliment to yourself—and yet what is there so very laudable in a precipitance which can be of no real advantage to yourself or anyone else?”

“Nay,” said Bingley, “this is too much, to remember at night all the foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, I believe what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless precipitance merely to show off before the ladies.”

“I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, ‘Bingley, you had better stay till next week,’ you would probably not go—and at another word, might stay a month.”

“You have only proved by this,” noted Elizabeth, “that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself.”

“I am exceedingly gratified,” said Bingley, “by your converting what my friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means intend; for he would certainly think better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I could.”

“Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intentions as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?”

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

“Allowing the case to stand according to your representation,” Darcy said, “you must remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is supposed to desire the delay of his plan, has asked it without offering one argument in favour of its propriety.”

“To yield readily—easily—to the persuasion of a friend, then, is no merit with you.”

“To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either.”

“You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of friendship and affection. In general and ordinary cases between friend and friend, where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?”

“Shall we, before we proceed any further, arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting between the parties?”

“By all means,” said Caroline, inserting herself into the discussion, “let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure you, that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, he should not be paid half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, when he has nothing to do.”

Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth checked her laughter, not wishing to let on how amusing she found Miss Bingley’s comments.

“I see your design, Miss Bingley,” said Darcy. “You dislike an argument, and want to silence this.”

“Perhaps I do,” said Caroline. “If you and Miss Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very thankful; and then you may say whatever you like.”

“What you ask,” said Elizabeth, “is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr. Darcy had much better finish his letter.”

Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter.

When that business was over, he applied to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth for an indulgence of some music, and the two women moved together to the pianoforte.

“Please, Miss Bennet,” said Caroline, inclining her head to the instrument, “do play for us.”

“Not I,” said Elizabeth. “I should hate to be compared to the half-dozen accomplished women whom you purport to know.”

At this, Miss Bingley, with some reluctance, seated herself and began playing quite skillfully. Mrs. Hurst soon joined her sister in a duet, and while they were thus employed, Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music-books that lay on the instrument, how frequently Miss Bingley’s eyes were fixed on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of admiration to the woman before her; and yet that she should look at her because she disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine, however, at last that she drew this notice because there was something more wrong and reprehensible in her, according to Caroline’s ideas of right, than in any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked Miss Bingley too little to care for her approbation.

After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near Elizabeth, said to her: “Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?”

She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence.

“Oh!” said she; “I heard you before, but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say ‘Yes,’ that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kinds of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all—and now despise me if you dare.”

“Indeed, I do not dare.”

Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy was beginning to understand what Caroline saw in her. Were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he might even consider her as an advantageous prospect for himself. After all, some day he would have to attend to his duty to provide an heir for Pemberley. Most women left him cold, but Miss Elizabeth Bennet would keep him sharp, that much was certain. Stimulating company would be better than no company; and given the situation on the continent, his hopes for companionship looked to be on hold for some time.

Still playing and singing, Caroline saw the spark of interest in Darcy’s look. He could not possibly be entertaining any idea of a future with Elizabeth, could he? He knew of her feelings for the lady, as well as of Louisa’s threat to banish her, should she divine any forbidden sentiments on Caroline’s part. And yet, as the evening wore on, Caroline could not convince herself otherwise.

“I hope,” said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery the next day, “you are not honestly considering Miss Elizabeth Bennet as a possible match for yourself.”

“Why should I not?” asked Darcy.

“Because she is a sweet, intelligent girl, and does not deserve to be trapped in an unhappy marriage with one such as yourself.”

“By which I can only conjecture that you, as a sentimental woman, think the lady deserves a union with someone who could one day truly love her?”

“I would point out that sentimentality is not reserved to my sex alone. You of all people—with your incessant letter-writing—should know this.”

“You may have a point. But I confess, I thought you would be pleased by the notion. This way you would have Miss Bennet always close at hand.”

“Perhaps; though I doubt Miss Bennet would find as much enjoyment in such a guarantee of our everlasting proximity.”

“I am certain she does not dislike you, any more than she does me. You and I can both be quite charming, you know, when we set our minds to it. “

“Unfortunate, then, that we should so rarely choose to do so.”

“The dangers of the life we lead. On some days, I almost believe it would be a relief to be married to someone like Elizabeth Bennet, with the immediate respectability such a connection—even to one with her vulgar relations—could not help but convey.”

Caroline understood perfectly. But as she could not approve the idea of his pursuing Elizabeth when she was not free to do so, and as Darcy did not like to be told what to do, especially not by one he considered an inferior in fortune, connection, and sex, she said: “In that case, when this desirable event takes place, I hope you will give your mother-in-law Mrs. Bennet a few hints as to the advantage of holding her tongue; and, if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after officers.”

“Have you anything else to propose for my domestic felicity?”

“Oh, yes. Do let the portraits of your Uncle and Aunt Phillips be placed in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great-uncle the judge. They are in the same profession, you know, only in different lines.”

“A fine idea. As for Miss Bennet’s picture, I would not have it taken at all, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?”

At that moment they were met from another walk by Mrs. Hurst and Elizabeth herself.

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

“You used us abominably ill,” answered Mrs. Hurst, “running away without telling us that you were coming out.”

Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walk by herself. The path just admitted three. Miss Bingley felt her sister’s rudeness, and after a hesitation said: “This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the avenue.”

But Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination to remain with them, laughingly answered: “No, no; stay where you are. You are charmingly grouped, and appear to uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a fourth. Good-bye.”

She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she rambled about, in the hope of being at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recovered as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening, which meant that Elizabeth would not again be left alone evading the censorious gaze of Miss Bingley, or struggling to make conversation with Mr. Darcy.

Chapter Eleven

W
HEN THE LADIES REMOVED AFTER DINNER,
Elizabeth ran up to her sister, and seeing her well-guarded from cold, attended her into the drawing-room, where she was welcomed by her two friends with many professions of pleasure; and Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared. Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit. Elizabeth found herself pondering Caroline Bingley’s behavior once again. On the one hand, she could be determinedly arrogant, even, as it were, outright rude; on the other, nearly as insistently delightful. Truly, at her best, she was one of the most appealing women Elizabeth had ever met. If only she would remain this, her most convivial self.

But when the gentlemen entered, Miss Bingley’s eyes instantly turned toward Darcy, and she had something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed himself to Jane with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst also made her a slight bow, and said he was “very glad;” but diffuseness and warmth remained for Bingley’s salutation. He was full of joy and attention. The first half-hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she should suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desire to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be further from the door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to anyone else. Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great delight.