by M-C Ranger
‘Oh, how well I understand her!’ Anne Elliot sighed, playfully.
Her two friends looked at her, somewhat astonished, but since she added nothing else, they did not pursue it.
‘Can reserve such as that not be disadvantageous?’ Charlotte Lucas continued. ‘If a young woman so carefully hides her preference for the person who is making her the object of his attention, does she not risk losing the opportunity of intimacy… to then tell herself that nobody will have seen a thing would be a rather paltry consolation.’
‘If I were Miss Bennet, I would react in the same manner,’ declared Anne Elliot, confidentially. ‘However, I am certain that if she loses an opportunity such as this, she could become inconsolable, perhaps even for several years…’
‘You seem to be genuinely moved, Miss Anne!’ exclaimed Elizabeth, noticing the sorrowful look on Miss Anne’s face when she looked at the young couple.
‘Come,’ said Charlotte Lucas, to lighten the atmosphere. ‘from the bottom of my heart, I wish for Jane’s happiness, but I believe she will have as much opportunity to be happy if she were to marry Mr. Bingley tomorrow, as she would if she were to study his character for an entire year. For example, I am certain that Mrs. Weston did not wait for months before convincing herself of the merits of a marriage request made of her by Mr. Weston. In my opinion, happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance.’
‘Come, Charlotte, you can’t be serious. You would not react in this way, I am certain of it.’
‘Miss Elizabeth is right,’ affirmed Anne Elliot, quietly. ‘I believe that we are able to discern whether a young man will not make us happy, or, inversely, whether he will make us happy… I am now convinced that it is necessary to follow one’s heart, but it is difficult to show our emotions, particularly before so many people.’
‘But Miss Anne, I must persist in saying that the bliss of two companions does not appear to me to be greater based on their deep knowledge of one another prior to their marriage. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation. In my opinion, it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life!’
‘Charlotte, you astonish me! Admittedly, my idea of marriage is probably somewhat too romantic. Perhaps I have taken my reading of Cecilia too much to heart. But I still stand by my opinion, and Miss Anne seems to agree with me, am I right?’ Elizabeth asked, turning towards her.
‘Yes, I concur, but in all honesty, who are we to judge as situation such as this? In matters of the heart, we can be mistaken, have regrets…’
‘As for me, dear Lizzy,’ said Charlotte Lucas, ‘could I be mistaken, or does Mr. Darcy appear to be looking at your rather frequently?’
‘Yes, I have noticed, and I’ve truly been wondering why; after all, I am only ‘tolerable’.’
‘Miss Elizabeth, how can you utter such a thing?’ exclaimed Anne Elliot, taken aback by her friend’s tone and comment.
And the young woman was thus informed of the events of the evening at Meryton the week before. She very quickly saw the connection to the disparaging comment made by Mr. Darcy in the presence of his hostesses; however, she chose to not say anything of this. On the contrary, her first impression could prove to be well-founded…
‘In society, Mr. Darcy, by all appearances, is a haughty and cold man, but having spent a few days in his company in a closed circle, I must attest that he can show himself to be an agreeable companion… he may at times be rather quick to pass judgement, but he has an undeniably sharp wit.’
‘Well, Miss Anne, as you can see, I am absolutely enthralled!’ retorted Elizabeth, in an ironic tone. ‘Only, I must inform you that in no case would I like to find myself in the “closed circle” of his acquaintances. Thus, he cannot impress me, unless it is through his gaze!’
Whereupon she began to laugh, together with her two friends. Then Miss Elliot, giving a slight curtsey, left to return to her sister, who was waving to her from the other side of the room.
‘You see, dear Eliza, Sir Lucas must be in the process of telling Mr. Weston that he will present him to the St. James court as soon as the next season is upon us. That is what he just proposed to me… as though we needed someone such as he to …’
‘Caroline, do not be so harsh,’ reprimanded her sister, mockingly. ‘Sir William wishes to be amiable and attentive. He is a most refined host.’
‘Effectively, he seems to be bestowing everyone with his attentions. Is he not currently with Mr. Darcy, who seems fully delighted that someone is paying him heed?’ noted Miss Elliot, far from being above making little biting comments.
The conversation resumed and became livelier, now focussed on the behaviour of Lydia and Kitty Bennet who, after having done everything in their power to attract the attention of the young officers in attendance, were now demanding that the dancing begin. These ladies sighed in the face of so little restraint and decorum, but agreed that this might liven up the evening somewhat, as the atmosphere was, according to them, waning. Already at the piano, Mary Bennet was thus summoned rather scornfully by her young sister to play a good jig.
‘How strange,’ Anne Elliot said quietly, ‘Mr. Darcy just asked Miss Elizabeth to dance, and she refused.’
‘Come, Anne, you just have dreamt it! You know that Mr. Darcy has absolutely no interest in her.’
‘Precisely, that is what is so odd… As for Miss Elizabeth’s refusal, I…’
‘Miss Anne,’ Caroline Bingley interrupted suddenly, ‘do you remember what he said to us regarding the young woman in question? It still makes me laugh, thinking about it now. You too, Louisa?’
‘Entirely. In what way could a Miss Elizabeth, one who has practically never left the countryside, be of interest to Mr. Darcy, pray tell?’
‘You are likely right,’ agreed the young woman, thoughtfully.
*****
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.
The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and…”
Anne Elliot had finished getting ready for the night and was quietly reading The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, seated in an armchair next to the hearth, when she heard a knock at her door.
‘I’m not disturbing you?’ asked her sister, closing the door behind her.
‘No, I will be going to bed in a few moments. I hope you are not ill.’
‘But no. I will be unable to fall asleep until I have asked you a question that tormented me all evening.’
Anne lifted her eyes, intrigued, to look at Eliza; since when had she been interested in her younger sister’s actions or in anything pertaining to her?
‘Well, during the evening at the Lucas’, you confessed to finding it curious that Mr. Darcy would invite Elizabeth Bennet to dance and that she had refused him, am I correct?’
‘Yes, indeed. But why are you asking me this question?’
‘I would like to know why you said this,’ continued the older sister, without noticing her sister’s question.
‘Well,’ the young woman began, hesitating, ‘you may laugh at me, but when Mr. Darcy expressed his opinion regarding Miss Elizabeth, I found it rather excessive. I had the impression that he wished, at all costs, to remove any attention to this person in particular. But this is merely my impression, and it is most probably in error, as you all pointed out to me, incidentally.’
Eliza Elliot, seated in the armchair across from her sister, smiled slightly.
‘Now that I have given you my reply, will you tell me why my impression suddenly interests you so much?’
‘I must admit that we were all wrong, and that you are right. At least this is what I believe. As does Caroline.’
‘And what does Miss Bingley have to do with all this?’ asked Anne, increasingly surprised by her older sister’s suggestions.
She then le
arned that Caroline Bingley, on seeing Mr. Darcy so contemplative, had approached him and told him that she was perfectly able to guess at the subject of his musings; that is, that evenings such as this must most certainly be tedious for him, with so many people of little significance. In response, he told her that she was incorrect and that his thoughts were much more pleasant in nature.
‘And you will never guess what he disclosed! He admitted, while contemplating Elizabeth Bennet: ‘‘I have been meditating on the very great pleasure with which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.’’ What do you think of that?’
‘And it was Miss Bingley who provided you with this information?’
‘Naturally, and believe me, she was green with envy.’
‘In my opinion, Mr. Darcy must have regretted expressing himself in such a manner.’
‘Indeed, Anne, because Caroline is currently doing everything in her power to become the future mistress of Pemberley. I must confess that I find this all rather entertaining and it adds a bit of excitement to a little stay in the country. Do you not feel the same?’
‘No, not really. Poor Miss Bingley. But you can reassure her, as Miss Elizabeth refused to dance with Mr. Darcy.’
‘But how could one refuse to dance with a fortune such as his, an estate such as his!’
And then Eliza Elliot left, leaving her sister perplexed in the face of the extremely enlightening thought that she had just expressed.
Chapter III
In which Caroline Bingley learns
that one can send an invitation
without taking responsibility
for all the consequences
Catherine Morland closed the book in her hand when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching the small room where she was seated while waiting for her friends to finish their morning ablutions.
‘Oh! Catherine! How are you? Nobody told me that you were here.’
‘I must admit that I am somewhat early, but it was so beautiful that, as soon as I’d finished my breakfast, I told Aunt Philips that it would do me good to take in some fresh air, and that I would take advantage of this to come and see you.’
‘What are you reading? You know how much I like reading. I’m curious to find out what interests you.’
‘In fact, Mary,’ began the young woman, with some hesitation, ‘I am not yet as mature as you, and I read… novels, that, I am certain, would be of no interest to you.’
Whereupon she placed the book on the cushion on which she was sitting, partially hiding it in the folds of her dress.
‘Indeed. To lift the spirits, one can do better than reading novels, I agree, but I would merely have liked you to show me your book.’
‘Mary, can’t you see that you are causing Catherine some discomfiture,’ interrupted Jane, kindly smiling at their young friend while making her way to an armchair next to the hearth, where she sat and resumed with her embroidery.
‘Catherine has no need to feel ill at ease, I was simply curious as to what she likes reading.’
‘Mary, each of us has the right to choose what we prefer. Right now, Catherine, what I enjoy reading are collections of poetry, and even if this is not to Mary’s liking, it does not keep me from reading them.’
‘Is that true, Jane?! You like poetry? I did not realise.’
‘Yes, I like the way in which things around us are described; everything appears much more beautiful, more exquisite in certain poems, such as the poetry by William Cowper, which I am currently rereading.’
‘In fact, I like this type of novel,’ she confided, pulling her book out of its hiding place.
Jane put down her work and took the book that Catherine was holding out to her. In a quiet voice, she read, ‘The Mysteries of Udolpho by Mrs. Radcliffe. This rings a bell, I have heard tell of this woman. She also wrote The Romance of the Forest, which Miss Watson seems to have greatly enjoyed.’
‘I totally agree! In this one, I am following the destiny of a poor orphan, Emily St. Aubert. It takes place in southern France, as well as in Italy, and I can hardly wait to find out if she will be able to marry Valancourt, despite everything keeping them apart!’
‘You read this type of story? I do not believe I would be able to do so, I am in need of something much more serious, something that makes me think.’
‘Well, Mary,’ interrupted her older sister, gently, ‘perhaps you should change what you are reading and include a few novels, purely out of pleasure.’
‘What you say is true, Jane, reading novels transports me to imaginary worlds, something I find exceedingly delightful. But perhaps Mary is right,’ Catherine admitted, in a conciliatory tone, ‘and I should also try to read works that are more serious, such as books about history.’
‘History books, how dreadfully boring!’ exclaimed Lydia, bouncing into the room. ‘You are hopefully not going to lock yourselves indoors to read on such a beautiful morning!’
‘Well, what do you suggest?’ asked Kitty, who was coming from the dining room, where she had just finished her meal.
‘We could go to Meryton, where we will most certainly cross paths with some of the officers under Colonel Forster’s regiment. Come, Catherine, instead of reading about adventures, let’s go delight in some of our own!’
‘Lydia, you’re going too far,’ Jane intervened. ‘Are you certain that Father would allow you to go for reasons such as this?’
‘Don’t worry, we will behave, I promise. You can, after all, come with us!’ Kitty suggested.
‘No, I’d prefer to stay here,’ answered Jane, taking up her embroidery again, ‘but Catherine will surely be happy to join you. Lizzy should soon be back from her walk, and I’d like to have a discussion with her…’
‘You wish to talk to her about the charming Mr. Bingley, do you not?’
‘Lydia, I beseech you! Try to show somewhat more self-restraint,’ replied her older sister, in a tone that was as strict as she could muster.
Then Mary moved towards her piano, exasperated by the frivolity of the discussion, and the two youngest left, with Catherine in their wake, her novel in one hand, her hat in the other.
Jane sighed quietly. What a household! Lydia and Kitty spoke of nothing but the officers. As a consequence, Mr. Bingley’s great fortune, which was enough to excite the imagination of their mother, meant nothing to them, compared to the red uniform of a second lieutenant. Mrs. Radcliffe and her novels, all told, would incur much less damage than a contingent of young men “released” into a little village in Hertfordshire.
Mr. Bennet was obliged to interrupt his reading of the Battle of Trafalgar when someone knocked at the door of his library, where he habitually sought refuge from the incessant whirlwind created by his family, or at least a significant portion thereof.
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘My dear Mr. Bennet, it’s a wonder! Jane received a letter, and…’
‘And what is it about the fact that my eldest daughter has received a letter that gives you the right to disturb me in my reading? Can it not wait? I’m at the attack where Admiral Nelson…’
‘Oh, everyone knows that he was killed, it can wait a moment. Listen to me! It’s a letter from Miss Bingley.’
‘And who is this Miss Bingley?’ sighed her husband, begrudgingly.
‘Good Lord, my dear, what world do you live in? It is the sister of Mr. Bingley, the new tenant at Netherfield Park. I spoke of him to you several times.’
‘You are right, but where were my thoughts? You have been speaking of nothing else since the evening at Meryton, so much so that I’d hoped he might suddenly twist his ankle, so that we no longer have to hear you talk of him ad nauseam!’
‘Well, brace yourself, because we shall be talking even more about him! Imagine, Miss Bingley has invited our daughter to dine with them. A charming letter, elegant handwriting; everything points towards an accomplished young lady. Do you not find our Jane fortunate?’
‘Do you wish to say tha
t I must hitch up the horses and…’
‘No, Mr. Bennet. It has all been taken care of, she will go there on horseback.’
‘On horseback?! Come, Mrs. Bennet, for my eldest daughter, who is so accommodating, it would be a pleasure for me to…’
‘Shush, my friend. Leave everything to me. Trust me, I have a plan.’
Mr. Bennet did not even have the opportunity to put a word in edgewise, his wife had already left his lair. From elsewhere in the house he heard his wife’s shrill voice barking orders for the mare to be saddled right after tea. He sighed, despite himself. Did his gentle and charming Jane deserve to be subject to such schemes? Because there was much scheming afoot, of that he was certain. He momentarily closed his eyes; he had been sharing his life with Miss Fanny Gardiner, now Mrs. Bennet, for twenty-three years, and still he was unable to reconcile himself with this idea. Fortunately, his two eldest daughters sweetened all these years of misunderstandings and bitter quarrels that were the fabric of their everyday lives at Longbourn.
Elizabeth, having returned from her daily walk, entered the room where Jane was doing her embroidery. Surprised to find the house so quiet, provided one chose to ignore Mary’s more or less arduous exercises on the pianoforte, she cosily settled in beside her older sister.
‘Lizzy, I’m glad that I am able to talk to you in utter peace and quiet.’
‘Why, what is it? Did Father decide to send some of our sisters to boarding school?’ she asked, laughing.
‘Alas, no, Lydia dragged Kitty and poor Catherine to Meryton where, as you know Colonel Forster’s regiment has settled for part of the season.’
‘I heard one of Mrs. Long’s nieces tell of it and our evening at Lucas Lodge confirmed the rumour. In my opinion, if I were to place my faith in the “maturity” of the youngest in the family, this will lead to no good.’
