by Jane Austen
During the visit, Mrs. Bennet expressed her disappointment that Lydia and Wickham must remove so far from Longbourn.
“I don’t at all like your going such a long way off,” she added. “Must it be so?”
“Oh, lord! Yes; there is nothing in that,” chirped Lydia. “I shall like it of all things. You and papa and my sisters must come down and see us. We shall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be plenty of balls, and I will take care to get some for my sisters.”
“I should like that beyond anything!” cried her mother. Lydia was exceedingly fond of her new mate. She groomed him and praised his sleek shiny coat and sharp claws. He did every thing best in the world, and she was sure he would kill more birds on the first of September than any other cat in the country.
During her visit, Lydia let it slip to Elizabeth and Jane that Mr. Darcy had been present at the church when she and Wickham joined paws in marriage.
Elizabeth was incredulous; Mr. Darcy present at the church? What was he doing there—he, of all cats? What could it mean? It was exactly a scene, among such creatures, where he had least temptation to go. Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried through her brain; but she was satisfied with none.
Elizabeth could not rest until she knew it all, and she hastily sent an express letter to her aunt in London asking to know the particulars, if her aunt were at liberty to tell her.
And if she is not at liberty, thought Elizabeth, I shall certainly be reduced to stratagems and tricks to find it out.
“And I am Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Lizzy, I never gave you an account of my wedding...
. . .
We were married, you know, at St. Clement’s, because Wickham’s lodgings were in that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven o’clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others were to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such a fuss! I was so afraid you know that something would happen to put it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed to know whether he would be married in his blue coat. . .
Well, and so just as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon business to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if we were beyond the hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he came back again in ten minutes time, and then we all set out. However, I recollected afterwards, that if he had been prevented going, the wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as well.”
“Mr. Darcy!” repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement.
“Oh, yes—he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But gracious me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!”
ELIZABETH WAS VERY soon satisfied by receiving a long letter from her Aunt Gardiner, and promptly carried her treasure off to a little copse to peruse it in privacy. Her aunt began by expressing surprise that Elizabeth required an explanation for Mr. Darcy’s presence at Lydia’s wedding, implying that she, Aunt Gardiner, believed Elizabeth and Darcy to be on such intimate terms as to have no secrets between them.
Mrs. Gardiner went on to acquaint Lizzy with all that had happened concerning Mr. Darcy: Almost the next day after Elizabeth and the Gardiners quit Derbyshire, Darcy himself had left Pemberley and made his way to London. There, by sense and scents, he discovered where Lydia and Wickham were hiding. His motive for hunting them down was to compel Wickham to make his union with Lydia respectable. For their flight, Mr. Darcy felt he was solely to blame. Had he not been too proud to lay his private actions open to the world, Lydia would never have run away with Wickham. But Mr. Darcy had preserved a haughty silence; his upstanding cat character, he had believed, should speak for itself. Therefore, since he was responsible for the infamous and injurious elopement, he alone must be responsible for the remedy.
Mr. Darcy had first tried to persuade Lydia to return to her family, Mrs. Gardiner related, even offering her his most luxurious cat carrier to take her to Longbourn. But Lydia had declined; she was perfectly happy with her dear Wickham and needed none of Mr. Darcy’s help. She was sure their match would be made respectable sometime or other, and it did not matter much when.
Mr. Darcy soon discovered that Wickham had very different feelings. He cherished the hope of a more advantageous match with another cat. In spite of this, he was receptive to Mr. Darcy’s offer of a lifetime supply of wet food and a comfortable kennel to share with Lydia.
After Darcy acquainted Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner with all these particulars, Mr. Gardiner expressed his earnest desire of helping to pay for Wickham’s keep. Mr. Darcy, however, showed himself to be as obstinate as a cat generally is and took all the trouble of arranging things between Lydia and Wickham himself.
Both Lydia and Wickham had access to the Gardiners’ house while awaiting their final union. Aunt Gardiner had lectured her niece repeatedly in a most serious manner about the evil of running away with Wickham, but Lydia merely laid her ears back and pretended not to hear.
Her aunt concluded her letter by telling Elizabeth how very much she liked Mr. Darcy and how easy and pleasing his manners were. All he needed was playfulness and that, if chose his partner prudently, would not be lacking.
This letter threw Elizabeth into such a flutter of spirits that she had to roll around the grass and chase a rabbit into the underbrush before she could compose herself. Was Darcy’s motive for putting to rights matters between Lydia and Wickham due only to mistaken pride? Or did he still harbor passionate feelings towards her? Elizabeth was trotting around the park, reflecting on this question, when Wickham caught up with her. He asked whether she had seen Mr. Darcy at Lambton and what she thought of his sister, Georgiana.
Elizabeth replied that she had seen Mr. Darcy and that she found his sister delightful, though rather shy. Wickham replied with a low growl. He went on to inquire if she had visited the village of Kympton. “I ask,” he said, “because that was where old Mr. Darcy promised me a house in which to pass my days in pastoral tran-quility. But, as you know, his son chose to disregard his late father’s wishes. Oh, the snug parsonage with its sunny morning room and the many mice—how I would have loved it!”
“I heard,” replied Elizabeth, “that you told Mr. Darcy that you did not wish to live a retired life and were compensated accordingly.”
Wickham’s eyes widened and he uttered a silent meow. “Come, Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth, “let us not quarrel about the past.”
They then went inside, while Wickham tried to compose his features, and succeeded only in looking very silly.
Wickham, my dear, is that Mr. Darcy scratching at the door?
“I fancy, Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real defect of his character after all. He has been accused of many faults at different times, but this is the true one. Nothing was to be done that he did not do himself; though I am sure (and I do not speak it to be thanked, therefore say nothing about it), your uncle would most readily have settled the whole. They battled it together for a long time, which was more than either the gentleman or lady concerned in it deserved. But at last your uncle was forced to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to his niece, was forced to put up with only having the probable credit of it, which went sorely against the grain; and I really believe your letter this morning gave him great pleasure, because it required an explanation that would rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give the praise where it was due.”
POOR MRS. BENNET was reduced to a pitiable state when the time came for Lydia and Wickham to leave for the North. Her spirits remained low afte
r their departure and she spent several days hiding under the bed. But then came news of a most promising nature; Mr. Bingley was expected back at Netherfield for a few weeks of bird hunting!
All Mrs. Bennet’s former ambitions for Jane and Bingley were instantly reanimated. Jane pretended to be engrossed with a juicy fly, while her mother meowed noisily of her expectations, her schemes for her eldest daughter to spring on Mr. Bingley in the shrubbery, and her plans to invite him to dinner of chicken-flavored catnip and roasted mouse as soon as he came into the country.
On the third morning after his arrival in Hertfordshire, Mr. Bingley arrived at Longbourn, bringing with him Mr. Darcy! Elizabeth was agitated, surprised, and gratified by Darcy accompanying his friend. Her fur fluffed up and her eyes brightened at the thought that he still loved her. But she would not be secure; Let me see how he behaves, thought she.
She sat intently chewing on a bit of lace and did not dare to lift her eyes at first. When she did, she thought he looked grave and serious—more like the cat she had first known in Hertfordshire than the unreserved creature who welcomed them so warmly to Pemberley.
Mrs. Bennet bragged of her youngest daughter’s match with Mr. Wickham.
“It is a delightful thing, to be sure,” said Mrs. Bennet, “to have a daughter well married. They are gone down to Newcastle, to a kennel quite northward, it seems, and there they are to stay—I do not know how long. A very fine kennel it is, too.” Mrs. Bennet fixed Mr. Darcy with an icy stare. “Thank Heaven! He has some friends, though perhaps not so many as he deserves,” she said.
Elizabeth, who knew this to be leveled at Mr. Darcy, was in such misery of shame that she chewed her lace even more energetically. Mr. Darcy, to whom all her family were indebted!
Mrs. Bennet meanwhile drooled all over Mr. Bingley.
“When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley,” she said, “I beg you will come here and kill as many as you please on Mr. Bennet’s manor.”
Before they went away, Mrs. Bennet secured both toms for an invitation to dinner. She had thought of asking them to dine that day but she did not think anything less than two whole fish would satisfy the appetite of such a stately cat as Mr. Darcy.
“Oh! my dear Lydia,” [Mrs. Bennet] cried, “when shall we meet again?”
“Oh, lord! I don’t know. Not these two or three 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. My sisters may write to me. They will have nothing else to do.”
I can’t believe my own daughter unfriended me.
Mr. Wickham’s adieus were much more affectionate than his wife’s. He smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things.
“He is as fine a fellow,” said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they were out of the house, “as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas himself, to produce a more valuable son-in-law.”
The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days.
“I often think,” said she, “that there is nothing 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. “It must make you better satisfied that your other four are single.”
ELIZABETH DID NOT know how to interpret Mr. Darcy’s silence and reserve. And yet, though he had not spoken, he had taunted her with a toy mouse by batting it her way and then recovering it himself. Elizabeth could not fathom his feelings.
“Teasing, teasing cat! I will think no more about him!”
On Tuesday the two toms came to dinner at Longbourn. To her satisfaction, Elizabeth saw that Mr. Bingley seated himself by her sister Jane at dinner, as he used to. Mrs. Bennet, meanwhile, continued her uncivil behavior to Mr. Darcy who, though rather grave, devoured a whole fish and two partridges.
After dinner, everyone repaired to the drawing room where Mrs. Bennet pressed her guests to catch goldfish, chase string, or play with cards. Mr. Darcy was not inclined to join in the latter, even when Kitty batted the Ace of Spades right under his nose. Soon afterwards the guests departed.
Anticipating the renewal of Mr. Bingley’s addresses to Jane, Mrs. Bennet was in high spirits, while Jane endeavored to compose herself and persuade Lizzy that she was content to remain only his friend and companion.
Mr. Darcy was not inclined to join the game, even when Kitty batted the Ace of Spades right under his nose.
Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with her eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough to help anybody to coffee; and then was enraged against herself for being so silly!
“A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex, who would not protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman? There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings!”
A FEW DAYS after this, Mr. Darcy left for town and Mr. Bingley trotted over the fields to call on the Bennets again. In fact, he came so early that none of the Bennet cats were fully awake. He stayed until after supper and came again the next morning to kill birds with Mr. Bennet. The two toms set off together to hide and pounce in the shrubbery, and had a fine sport of it. After this, Jane did not try to persuade Elizabeth that she and Mr. Bingley were merely friendly acquaintances.
The next evening after dinner, Elizabeth accidentally interrupted her sister and Mr. Bingley murmuring together near the hearth. Mr. Bingley quickly darted off towards Mr. Bennet’s library. Purring ecstatically, Jane then confided her overflowing happiness and delight to Elizabeth: She and Mr. Bingley were to be united! They would not hide in London or run off to Gretna Green, but would form a union all their family could rejoice in and settle together at Netherfield.
Jane scampered away to tell her mother the good news. Elizabeth, left to herself, reflected that after all the Bingley sisters’ falsehoods and contriving, and Mr. Darcy’s interference, the affair had concluded happily for Mr. Bingley, Jane, and all the Bennet family.
“Oh! My dear, dear Jane, I am so happy!” cried Mrs. Bennet, after Mr. Bingley had taken leave. “I always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not be so beautiful for nothing! Why you could have won first prize at the Westminster Cat Show! But now Bingley has won you, and that is even better.”
Elizabeth interrupted her sister and Mr. Bingley murmuring together near the hearth.
Jane’s younger sisters began to petition in their own interest. Mary requested use of the library at Netherfield—she loved nothing more than to nap on a book left open by its owner—while Kitty pleaded to play with Mr. Bingley’s fine ball.
“I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!” trilled Jane to Elizabeth. “If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such another cat for you!”
The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest cats in the country, though only a few weeks before, when Lydia had run away, they had been generally thought to be no better than common strays.
If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such another cat for you!
He came, and in such very good time, that the ladies were none of them dressed. In ran Mrs. Bennet to her daughter’s room, in her dressing gown, and with her hair half finished, crying out,
“My dear Jane, make haste and hurry down. He is come—Mr. Bingley is come—He is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. Here, Sarah, come to Miss Bennet this moment, and help her on with her gown. Never mind Miss Lizzy’s hair.”
“We will be down as soon as we can,” said Jane; “but I dare say Kitty is forwarder than either of us, for she went up stairs half an hour ago.”
“Oh! hang Kitty! what has she to do with it? Come be quick, be quick! Where is your sash, my dear?”
ONE MORNING, SHORTLY afte
r Jane Bennet’s engagement to Mr. Bingley, Lady Cat pounced upon Longbourn, chased by four hounds (who, it turned out, had made sport with her after she alighted from her carriage in Meryton). She entered the room with her hair on end and was most uncivil—positively catty—to Mrs. Bennet.
“You have a very small park here,” she remarked after a short silence. “I doubt it affords enough rodents for your table.”
“Our suppers are nothing in comparison of Rosings, my lady, I dare say,” replied Mrs. Bennet, “but I assure you they are much more sumptuous than Sir William Lucas’s.”
Mrs. Bennet begged her ladyship to partake of a cat treat but Lady Cat declined with little civility; and then, arching her back, said to Elizabeth: “Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a romp in it, if you will favor me with your company.”
Elizabeth could not imagine the purpose of such a romp— indeed, Lady Cat was not the romping sort. As it turned out, her ladyship had come with a warning—and an irresistible urge to sharpen her claws on the unsuspecting Elizabeth.
“You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my journey hither,” she began. “Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come.”
As it turned out, Lady Cat had heard a rumor that her nephew Mr. Darcy had offered Elizabeth his paw in marriage. She arrived hoping to frighten Lizzy off with hisses and swipes. But Elizabeth showed herself equal to repelling these ill-natured attacks.
“Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied,” Lady Cat demanded. “Has my nephew offered his paw in marriage?” “Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible.” “It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his reason. But your frisks and capers coupled with a fresh catnip harvest may have made him forget all he owes to himself and his family.
