by Janet Aylmer
“Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it, not doing its office.”
“Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,” said Bingley; who had been listening to this conversation with little enthusiasm, “but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.”
“You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley, “and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition.”
“Certainly not.”
“To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country town indifference to decorum.”
“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said Bingley.
“I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley, in a half whisper, “that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.”
He was not inclined to indulge her, and replied, “Not at all, they were brightened by the exercise.”
A short pause followed this. Then Mrs. Hurst began again.
“I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it.”
“I think I have heard you say, that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton.”
“Yes, and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside.”
“That is capital,” added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.
“If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside,” said Bingley, mindful that their own father had made his fortune from trade, “it would not make them one jot less agreeable.”
“But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world,” replied Darcy, who had found by experience that his friend did not always by any means share his concern for the niceties of social standing and consequence.
Bingley did not reply, but his sisters gave this view their hearty assent, and they went on to indulge their mirth for some time at the expense of Miss Bennet’s vulgar relations.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet would not quit her sister till late in the evening. When she entered the drawing-room, the whole party was at loo, and she was immediately invited to join them. Making her sister the excuse, she said that she would amuse herself with a book for the short time she could stay below. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.
“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said he; “that is rather singular.”
Miss Bingley could not resist making a point from this.
“Miss Eliza Bennet despises cards. She is a great reader and has no pleasure in anything else.”
The object of her scorn looked surprised at this attack, but replied quietly, “I deserve neither such praise nor such censure. I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”
This seemed a satisfactory answer to Darcy, and his friend’s comments were to the same effect.
“In nursing your sister, I am sure you will have pleasure, and I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her quite well.”
Miss Bennet thanked him, and then walked towards a table where a few books were lying. Bingley immediately offered to fetch her others from his library, but she assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those in the room.
“I am astonished,” said Miss Bingley, “that my father should have left so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!”
“It ought to be good,” he replied, “it has been the work of many generations.”
“And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying books.”
He was not sure that this was a commendation, but replied, “I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these.”
“Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place. Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Pemberley.”
“I wish it may,” her brother replied.
“But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire.”
“With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself 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 purchase than by imitation.”
Darcy then saw that Miss Elizabeth Bennet laid her book aside. She moved to stand near the card-table between Mr. Bingley and his eldest sister to observe the game.
“Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?” said Miss Bingley; “will she be as tall as I am?”
Darcy looked at her for a moment, and then turned to her guest as he said, “I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s height, or rather taller.”
“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! and so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the piano-forte is exquisite.”
“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished, as they all are.”
“All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?” said his sister.
“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens and net purses.
I scarcely know any one who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.”
“Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,” said Darcy, “has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse, or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.”
“Nor I, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley, quick to agree with him.
“Then,” observed Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Darcy, “you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.” She half smiled at him as she spoke, and Darcy was tempted to do so in kind, as he said, “Yes; I do comprehend a great deal in it.”
“Oh! certainly,” cried Miss Bingley to Darcy, not wishing to be overlooked, “no one can be really esteemed accomplished, who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with.”
Since he said nothing, she went on, “A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved.”
“All this she must possess,” added Darcy, addressing Miss Bennet, “and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”
“I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any,” said Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Darcy was not sure whether she doubted the idea, or his own opinion.
“Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the possibility of all this?”
“I never saw such a woman,” Miss Bennet replied, “I never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe, united.”
Both Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley protested at this, saying that they knew many women who answered this description. But Mr. Hurst then called them to order, with bitter complaints of
their inattention.
It was with regret that Darcy saw Miss Bennet soon afterwards leave the room.
“Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, “is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex, by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds.”
She looked to the others for a reaction, but in vain, so she went on, “But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.”
“Undoubtedly,” replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed, “there is meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable.”
As he had intended, Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with his reply as to continue the subject.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones’s being sent for immediately; while his sisters recommended that an express be sent for one of the most eminent physicians from town. This, she did not agree to, but it was settled that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet were not decidedly better.
7
Miss Elizabeth Bennet in the morning was able to send a better answer to the enquiries that she very early received from Bingley, but requested to have a note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit her sister, and form her own judgement of her situation.
Although this was not a prospect that Darcy, or Bingley’s sisters, viewed with any enthusiasm, the note was immediately dispatched, and its contents as quickly complied with, and Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her youngest daughters, Catherine and Lydia, reached Netherfield soon after breakfast.
On being satisfied on seeing her that her eldest daughter’s illness was not alarming, she would not listen to her being moved home; neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think it at all advisable. After sitting a little while with her daughter, on Miss Bingley’s appearance and invitation, the mother and three younger daughters all attended their hostess into the breakfast parlour, where they found Darcy with his friend.
Bingley met them with hopes that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Jane worse than she expected.
“Indeed, Sir, she is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness.”
“Removed!” cried Bingley. “It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal.”
“You may depend upon it, Madam,” said Miss Bingley, with cold civility, “that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she remains with us.”
Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgements. “I am sure,” she added, “if it was not for such good friends I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to her. You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming prospect over that gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry I hope, though you have but a short lease.”
“Whatever I do is done in a hurry,” replied he; “and therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here.”
“That is exactly what I should have supposed of you,” said Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Darcy, who had been looking out of the window hoping that Mrs. Bennet’s stay would be curtailed, turned to look with more interest at what was being said on hearing her daughter’s voice.
“You begin to comprehend me, do you?” replied Bingley.
“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 is pitiful.”
“That is as it happens,” said Miss Elizabeth, “it does not necessarily follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours.”
“Lizzy,” cried her mother, “remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home.”
“I did not know before,” continued Bingley immediately to her daughter, “that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study.”
“Yes; but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage.”
“The country,” said Darcy, in a bid to gain her attention, “can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society.”
Miss Elizabeth did not dissent to that, and added, “But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever.”
To Darcy’s regret, they were then interrupted.
“Yes, indeed,” cried Mrs. Bennet, looking most offended, “I assure you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town.”
Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had triumphed over him, persisted.
“I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is not it, Mr. Bingley?”
“When I am in the country,” he replied, “I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either.”
“Aye—that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman,” said Mrs. Bennet, looking straight at Darcy, “seemed to think the country was nothing at all.”
“Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken,” said Miss Elizabeth Bennet, blushing for her mother. “You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there were not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in town, which you must acknowledge to be true.”
“Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four and twenty families.”
Darcy observed that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, for the sake of saying something that might turn her mother’s thoughts, now asked Mrs. Bennet if her friend Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn 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 fashion! So genteel and so easy! He has always something to say to every body. That is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves very important and,” looking at Darcy as she spoke, “never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter.”
“Did Charlotte dine with you?” asked Miss Elizabeth.
“No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince pies. For my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work; my daughters are brought up differently. But every body is to judge for themselves, and the Lucases are a very good sort of girls, I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think Charlotte so very plain—but then she is our particular friend.”
“She seems a very pleasant young woman,” said Bingley.
“Oh! dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself has often said so, and envied me Jane’s beauty. I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, one does not often see anybody better looking. It is what every body says. I do not trust my own partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my brother Gardiner’s in town, so much in love with her, that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an 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 Miss Elizabeth scornfully. “There has
been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!”
Darcy was surprised at this answer and decided to venture a reply.
“I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love,” said he.
“Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Every thing nourishes what is strong already.” Miss Elizabeth paused, but then in her lively way added, “But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.”
Darcy smiled at this; but said nothing. A general pause ensued, until Mrs. Bennet repeated her thanks to Bingley for his kindness to her eldest daughter, with an apology for troubling him also with her sister, and soon afterwards ordered her carriage.
At this, her youngest daughter, Lydia, a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, taxed Bingley with having promised on his first coming into the country to give a ball at Netherfield, adding that it would be the most shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it.
His answer to this sudden attack was more civil than Darcy thought that it deserved, contrasting her very forward style of address with that of his sister. However, Bingley as ever refused to be affronted.
“I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and when your sister is recovered, you shall if you please name the very day of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing while she is ill.”
“Oh! yes it would be much better to wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter would be at Meryton again. And when you have given your ball,” she added, “I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not.”
Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet returned instantly to her sister, leaving her own and her relations’ behaviour to the remarks of the two ladies.
Darcy, however, could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of her, in spite of all Miss Bingley’s witticisms on fine eyes.
