Chapter 6
The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of
Netherfield. The visit was returned in due form. Miss Bennet’s
pleasing manners grew on the good-will of Mrs. Hurst and Miss
Bingley; and though the mother was found to be intolerable, and the
younger sisters not worth speaking to, a wish of being better
acquainted with them was expressed towards the two eldest.
By Jane this attention was received with the greatest pleasure; but
Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment of every
body, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them;
though their kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value, as
arising, in all probability, from the influence of their brother’s
admiration. It was generally evident, whenever they met, that he
did admire her; and to her it was equally evident
that Jane was yielding to the preference which she had begun to
entertain for him from the first, and was in a way to be very much
in love; but she considered with pleasure that it was not likely to
be discovered by the world in general, since Jane united with great
strength of feeling, a composure of temper and an uniform
cheerfulness of manner, which would guard her from the suspicions
of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend, Miss
Lucas.
“It may, perhaps, be pleasant,” replied Charlotte,
“to be able to impose on the public in such a case; but it is
sometimes a disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals
her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may
lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor
consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so
much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is
not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely—a
slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us
who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement.
In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better show more
affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly;
but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him
on.”
“But she does help him on, as much as her nature
will allow. If I can perceive her regard for him, he must be
a simpleton, indeed, not to discover it too.”
“Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane’s
disposition as you do.”
“But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not
endeavour to conceal it, he must find it out.”
“Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But
though Bingley and Jane meet tolerably often, it is never for many
hours together; and as they always see each other in large mixed
parties, it is impossible that every moment should be employed in
conversing together. Jane should therefore make the most of every
half hour in which she can command his attention. When she is
secure of him, there will be leisure for falling in love as much as
she chooses.”
“Your plan is a good one,” replied Elizabeth,
“where nothing is in question but the desire of being well married;
and if I were determined to get a rich husband, or any husband, I
dare say I should adopt it. But these are not Jane’s feelings; she
is not acting by design. As yet she cannot even be certain of the
degree of her own regard, nor of its reasonableness. She has known
him only a fortnight. She danced four dances with him at Meryton;
she saw him one morning at his own house, and has since dined in
company with him four times. This is not quite enough to make her
understand his character.”
“Not as you represent it. Had she merely
dined with him, she might only have discovered whether he
had a good appetite; but you must remember that four evenings have
been also spent together—and four evenings may do a great
deal.”
“Yes: these four evenings have enabled them to
ascertain that they both like Vingt-un better than Commerce;h but
with respect to any other leading characteristic, I do not imagine
that much has been unfolded.”
“Well,” said Charlotte, “I wish Jane success with
all my heart; and if she were married to him to-morrow, I should
think she had as good a chance of happiness as if she were to be
studying his character for a twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is
entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are
ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar beforehand, it
does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue
to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of
vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the
defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.”
“You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound.
You know it is not sound, and that you would never act in this way
yourself.”
Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley’s attentions to
her sister, Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she was herself
becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr.
Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty: he had looked
at her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he
looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it clear
to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in
her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly
intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this
discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had
detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect
symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be
light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners
were not those of the fashionable world, he was caught by their
easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly unaware: to her he was
only the man who made himself agreeable nowhere, and who had not
thought her handsome enough to dance with.
He began to wish to know more of her; and, as a
step towards conversing with her himself, attended to her
conversation with others. His doing so drew her notice. It was at
Sir William Lucas’s, where a large party were assembled.
“What does Mr. Darcy mean,” said she to Charlotte,
“by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?”
“That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can
answer.”
“But if he does it any more, I shall certainly let
him know that I see what he is about. He has a very satirical eye,
and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon
grow afraid of him.”
On his approaching them soon afterwards, though
without seeming to have any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas
defied her friend to mention such a subject to him, which
immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she turned to him and
said,—
“Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed
myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster
to give us a ball at Meryton?”
“With great energy; but it is a subject which
always 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 instrument, Eliza, and you
know what follows.”
“You are a very strange creature by way of a
friend!—always wanting me to play and sing before any body and
every body! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have
been invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down
before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best
performers.” On Miss Lucas’s persevering, however, she added, “Very
well; if it must be so, it must.” And gravely glancing at Mr.
Darcy, “There is a very fine old saying, which every body here is
of course familiar with—‘Keep your breath to cool your
porridge,’—and I shall keep mine to swell my song.”
Her performance was pleasing, though by no means
capital. After a song or two, and before she could reply to the
entreaties of several that she would sing again, she was eagerly
succeeded at the instrument by her sister Mary, who having, in
consequence of being the only plain one in the family, worked hard
for knowledge and accomplishments, was always impatient for
display.
Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though
vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a
pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a
higher degree of excellence than she had reached. Elizabeth, easy
and unaffected, had been listened to with much more pleasure,
though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the end of a long
concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by Scotch and
Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who, with some
of the Lucases, and two or three officers, joined eagerly in
dancing at one end of the room.
Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at
such a mode of passing the evening, to the exclusion of all
conversation, and was too much engrossed by his own thoughts to
perceive that Sir William Lucas was his neighbour, till Sir William
thus began:—
“What a charming amusement for young people this
is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing, after all. I consider
it as one of the first refinements of polished societies.”
“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of
being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world:
every savage can dance.”
Sir William only smiled. “Your friend performs
delightfully,” he continued, after a pause, on seeing Bingley join
the group; “and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science
yourself, Mr. Darcy.”
“You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe,
sir.”
“Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable
pleasure from the sight. Do you often dance at St. James’s?”
“Never, sir.”
“Do you not think it would be a proper compliment
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 some thoughts 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
towards them, he was struck with the notion of doing a very gallant
thing, and called out to her,—
“My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing? Mr.
Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a
very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when
so much beauty is before you.” And, taking her hand, he would have
given it to Mr. Darcy, who, though extremely surprised, was not
unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said
with some discomposure to Sir William,—
“Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of
dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in
order to beg for a partner.”
Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be
allowed the honour of her hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was
determined; nor did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his
attempt at persuasion.
“You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that
it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this
gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no
objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half hour.”
“Mr. Darcy is all politeness,” said Elizabeth,
smiling.
“He is, indeed: but, considering the inducement, my
dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance; for who
would object to such a partner?”
Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her
resistance had not injured her with the gentleman, and he was
thinking of her with some complacency, when thus accosted by Miss
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 this manner,—in such society; and, indeed,
I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The
insipidity, and yet the noise;—the nothingness, and yet the
self-importance of all these people! What would I give to hear your
strictures on them!”
“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My
mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very
great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty
woman can bestow.”
Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his
face, and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of
inspiring such reflections. Mr. Darcy replied with great
intrepidity,—
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley. “I
am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite? and
pray when am I to wish you joy?”
“That is exactly the question which I expected you
to ask. A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from
admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you
would be wishing me joy.”
“Nay, if you are so serious about it, I shall
consider the matter as absolutely settled. You will have a charming
mother-in-law, indeed, and of course she will be always at
Pemberley with you.”
He listened to her with perfect indifference, while
she chose to entertain herself in this manner; and as his composure
convinced her that all was safe, her wit flowed long.