is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession
of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on
his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in
the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the
rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.
dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that
Netherfield Park is let at last?"
Bennet replied that he had not.
"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and
she told me all about it."
Bennet made no answer.
you not want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently.
want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."
This was invitation enough.
"Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is
taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England;
that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place,
and was so much delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris
immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and
some of his servants are to be in the house by the end of next
"What is his name?"
he married or single?"
"Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune;
four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!"
"How so? How can it affect them?"
dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You
must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."
that his design in settling here?"
"Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that
he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must
visit him as soon as he comes."
see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send
them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you
are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley may like you the best of
dear, you flatter me. I certainly have had my share of
beauty, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When
a woman has five grown-up daughters, she ought to give over thinking
of her own beauty."
such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of."
"But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes
into the neighbourhood."
is more than I engage for, I assure you."
"But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it
would be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined
to go, merely on that account, for in general, you know, they visit
no newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for
us to visit him if you do not."
"You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be
very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure
him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the
girls; though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy."
desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the
others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half
so good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving her the
"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he; "they
are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something
more of quickness than her sisters."
"Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a
way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my
"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves.
They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with
consideration these last twenty years at least."
"Ah, you do not know what I suffer."
"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of
four thousand a year come into the neighbourhood."
will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not
"Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit
Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour,
reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years
had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character.
Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean
understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she
was discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her
life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and
Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He
had always intended to visit him, though to the last always assuring
his wife that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit
was paid she had no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in the
following manner. Observing his second daughter employed in trimming
a hat, he suddenly addressed her with:
hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy."
are not in a way to know what Mr. Bingley likes," said her
mother resentfully, "since we are not to visit."
"But you forget, mamma," said Elizabeth, "that we shall meet him at
the assemblies, and that Mrs. Long promised to introduce him."
do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces
of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no
opinion of her."
more have I," said Mr. Bennet; "and I am glad to find that you do
not depend on her serving you."
Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply, but, unable to contain
herself, began scolding one of her daughters.
"Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Have a little
compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces."
"Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," said her father; "she times
do not cough for my own amusement," replied Kitty fretfully. "When
is your next ball to be, Lizzy?"
"Aye, so it is," cried her mother, "and Mrs. Long does not come back
till the day before; so it will be impossible for her to introduce
him, for she will not know him herself."
"Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and
introduce Mr. Bingley to her."
"Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with
him myself; how can you be so teasing?"
honour your circumspection. A fortnight's acquaintance is certainly
very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a
fortnight. But if we do not venture somebody else will; and
after all, Mrs. Long and her daughters must stand their chance; and,
therefore, as she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline
the office, I will take it on myself."
girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only, "Nonsense,
"What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?" cried he.
"Do you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is
laid on them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you there.
What say you, Mary? For you are a young lady of deep reflection, I
know, and read great books and make extracts."
Mary wished to say something sensible, but knew not how.
"While Mary is adjusting her ideas," he continued, "let us return to
am sick of Mr. Bingley," cried his wife.
am sorry to hear that; but why did not you tell me that
before? If I had known as much this morning I certainly would not
have called on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid
the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance now."
astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished; that of Mrs.
Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though, when the first tumult of
joy was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected
all the while.
"How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should
persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to
neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it is such
a good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning and never
said a word about it till now."
"Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose," said Mr. Bennet;
and, as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the raptures of
"What an excellent father you have, girls!" said she, when the door
was shut. "I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his
kindness; or me, either, for that matter. At our time of life it is
not so pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new acquaintances
every day; but for your sakes, we would do anything. Lydia, my love,
though you are the youngest, I dare say Mr. Bingley will
dance with you at the next ball."
"Oh!" said Lydia stoutly, "I am not afraid; for though I am
the youngest, I'm the tallest."
rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he would
return Mr. Bennet's visit, and determining when they should ask him
all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five
daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from her
husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley. They attacked
him in various ways—with barefaced questions, ingenious
suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them
all, and they were at last obliged to accept the second-hand
intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her report was highly
favourable. Sir William had been delighted with him. He was quite
young, wonderfully handsome, extremely agreeable, and, to crown the
whole, he meant to be at the next assembly with a large party.
Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of dancing was a
certain step towards falling in love; and very lively hopes of Mr.
Bingley's heart were entertained.
I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield,"
said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, "and all the others equally well
married, I shall have nothing to wish for."
a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet's visit, and sat about
ten minutes with him in his library. He had entertained hopes of
being admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose beauty he
had heard much; but he saw only the father. The ladies were somewhat
more fortunate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining from an
upper window that he wore a blue coat, and rode a black horse.
invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and already had
Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to her
housekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr.
Bingley was obliged to be in town the following day, and,
consequently, unable to accept the honour of their invitation, etc.
Mrs. Bennet was quite disconcerted. She could not imagine what
business he could have in town so soon after his arrival in
Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that he might be always flying
about from one place to another, and never settled at Netherfield as
he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears a little by starting
the idea of his being gone to London only to get a large party for
the ball; and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingley was to bring
twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the assembly. The
girls grieved over such a number of ladies, but were comforted the
day before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he brought
only six with him from London—his five sisters and a cousin. And
when the party entered the assembly room it consisted of only five
altogether—Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest,
and another young man.
Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant
countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine
women, with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr.
Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon
drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome
features, noble mien, and the report which was in general
circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having
ten thousand a year. The gentlemen pronounced him to be a fine
figure of a man, the ladies declared he was much handsomer than Mr.
Bingley, and he was looked at with great admiration for about half
the evening, till his manners gave a disgust which turned the tide
of his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud; to be above
his company, and above being pleased; and not all his large estate
in Derbyshire could then save him from having a most forbidding,
disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared with his
Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal
people in the room; he was lively and unreserved, danced every
dance, was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving
one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for
themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! Mr. Darcy
danced only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley,
declined being introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of
the evening in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one
of his own party. His character was decided. He was the proudest,
most disagreeable man in the world, and everybody hoped that he
would never come there again. Amongst the most violent against him
was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his general behaviour was
sharpened into particular resentment by his having slighted one of
Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to
sit down for two dances; and during part of that time, Mr. Darcy had
been standing near enough for her to hear a conversation between him
and Mr. Bingley, who came from the dance for a few minutes, to press
his friend to join it.
"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you
standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much
certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am
particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this
it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is
not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to
me to stand up with."
would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Mr. Bingley, "for a
kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in
my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you
see uncommonly pretty."
are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Mr.
Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.
"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is
one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty,
and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce
"Which do you mean?" and turning round he looked for a moment at
Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly
said: "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me;
I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who
are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and
enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."
Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth
remained with no very cordial feelings toward him. She told the
story, however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a
lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.
evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs.
Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the Netherfield
party. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, and she had been
distinguished by his sisters. Jane was as much gratified by this as
her mother could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane's
pleasure. Mary had heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the
most accomplished girl in the neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia
had been fortunate enough never to be without partners, which was
all that they had yet learnt to care for at a ball. They returned,
therefore, in good spirits to Longbourn, the village where they
lived, and of which they were the principal inhabitants. They found
Mr. Bennet still up. With a book he was regardless of time; and on
the present occasion he had a good deal of curiosity as to the event
of an evening which had raised such splendid expectations. He had
rather hoped that his wife's views on the stranger would be
disappointed; but he soon found out that he had a different story to
"Oh! my dear Mr. Bennet," as she entered the room, "we have had a
most delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been
there. Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said
how well she looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful,
and danced with her twice! Only think of that, my dear; he
actually danced with her twice! and she was the only creature in the
room that he asked a second time. First of all, he asked Miss Lucas.
I was so vexed to see him stand up with her! But, however, he did
not admire her at all; indeed, nobody can, you know; and he seemed
quite struck with Jane as she was going down the dance. So he
inquired who she was, and got introduced, and asked her for the two
next. Then the two third he danced with Miss King, and the two
fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane again, and the
two sixth with Lizzy, and the Boulanger—"
he had had any compassion for me," cried her husband
impatiently, "he would not have danced half so much! For God's sake,
say no more of his partners. Oh that he had sprained his ankle in
the first dance!"
"Oh! my dear, I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively
handsome! And his sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw
anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace upon
Mrs. Hurst's gown—"
Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any
description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another
branch of the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit
and some exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy.
"But I can assure you," she added, "that Lizzy does not lose much by
not suiting his fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid
man, not at all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there
was no enduring him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying
himself so very great! Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you
had been there, my dear, to have given him one of your set-downs. I
quite detest the man."
When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been
cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her
sister just how very much she admired him.
is just what a young man ought to be," said she, "sensible,
good-humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!—so much
ease, with such perfect good breeding!"
is also handsome," replied Elizabeth, "which a young man ought
likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby
was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I
did not expect such a compliment."
"Did not you? I did for you. But that is one great difference
between us. Compliments always take you by surprise, and
me never. What could be more natural than his asking you again?
He could not help seeing that you were about five times as pretty as
every other woman in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that.
Well, he certainly is very agreeable, and I give you leave to like
him. You have liked many a stupider person."
"Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in
general. You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good
and agreeable in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human
being in your life."
would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak
what I think."
know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder. With
your good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and
nonsense of others! Affectation of candour is common enough—one
meets with it everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or
design—to take the good of everybody's character and make it still
better, and say nothing of the bad—belongs to you alone. And so you
like this man's sisters, too, do you? Their manners are not equal to
"Certainly not—at first. But they are very pleasing women when you
converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother, and
keep his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very
charming neighbour in her."
Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced; their
behaviour at the assembly had not been calculated to please in
general; and with more quickness of observation and less pliancy of
temper than her sister, and with a judgement too unassailed by any
attention to herself, she was very little disposed to approve them.
They were in fact very fine ladies; not deficient in good humour
when they were pleased, nor in the power of making themselves
agreeable when they chose it, but proud and conceited. They were
rather handsome, had been educated in one of the first private
seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty thousand pounds, were in
the habit of spending more than they ought, and of associating with
people of rank, and were therefore in every respect entitled to
think well of themselves, and meanly of others. They were of a
respectable family in the north of England; a circumstance more
deeply impressed on their memories than that their brother's fortune
and their own had been acquired by trade.
Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred
thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an
estate, but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it likewise,
and sometimes made choice of his county; but as he was now provided
with a good house and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to
many of those who best knew the easiness of his temper, whether he
might not spend the remainder of his days at Netherfield, and leave
the next generation to purchase.
sisters were anxious for his having an estate of his own; but,
though he was now only established as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by
no means unwilling to preside at his table—nor was Mrs. Hurst, who
had married a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to
consider his house as her home when it suited her. Mr. Bingley had
not been of age two years, when he was tempted by an accidental
recommendation to look at Netherfield House. He did look at it, and
into it for half-an-hour—was pleased with the situation and the
principal rooms, satisfied with what the owner said in its praise,
and took it immediately.
Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite
of great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by
the easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper, though no
disposition could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though
with his own he never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of
Darcy's regard, Bingley had the firmest reliance, and of his
judgement the highest opinion. In understanding, Darcy was the
superior. Bingley was by no means deficient, but Darcy was clever.
He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and his
manners, though well-bred, were not inviting. In that respect his
friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley was sure of being liked
wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually giving offense.
manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently
characteristic. Bingley had never met with more pleasant people or
prettier girls in his life; everybody had been most kind and
attentive to him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had
soon felt acquainted with all the room; and, as to Miss Bennet, he
could not conceive an angel more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary,
had seen a collection of people in whom there was little beauty and
no fashion, for none of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and
from none received either attention or pleasure. Miss Bennet he
acknowledged to be pretty, but she smiled too much.
Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so—but still they admired
her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one
whom they would not object to know more of. Miss Bennet was
therefore established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt
authorized by such commendation to think of her as he chose.
Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the
Bennets were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been
formerly in trade in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune,
and risen to the honour of knighthood by an address to the king
during his mayoralty. The distinction had perhaps been felt too
strongly. It had given him a disgust to his business, and to his
residence in a small market town; and, in quitting them both, he had
removed with his family to a house about a mile from Meryton,
denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, where he could think with
pleasure of his own importance, and, unshackled by business, occupy
himself solely in being civil to all the world. For, though elated
by his rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the contrary, he
was all attention to everybody. By nature inoffensive, friendly, and
obliging, his presentation at St. James's had made him courteous.
Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a
valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The
eldest of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about
twenty-seven, was Elizabeth's intimate friend.
That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over
a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly
brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.
began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs. Bennet with civil
self-command to Miss Lucas. "You were Mr. Bingley's first
"Yes; but he seemed to like his second better."
"Oh! you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To
be sure that did seem as if he admired her—indeed I rather
believe he did—I heard something about it—but I hardly know
what—something about Mr. Robinson."
"Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did
not I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our
Meryton assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great
many pretty women in the room, and which he thought the
prettiest? and his answering immediately to the last question: 'Oh!
the eldest Miss Bennet, beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions
on that point.'"
"Upon my word! Well, that is very decided indeed—that does seem as
if—but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know."
overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Eliza,"
said Charlotte. "Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his
friend, is he?—poor Eliza!—to be only just tolerable."
beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to be vexed by his
ill-treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man, that it would be
quite a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night
that he sat close to her for half-an-hour without once opening his
"Are you quite sure, ma'am?—is not there a little mistake?" said
Jane. "I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her."
"Aye—because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he
could not help answering her; but she said he seemed quite angry at
being spoke to."
"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he never speaks much,
unless among his intimate acquaintances. With them he is
do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very
agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it
was; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare say he
had heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and had
come to the ball in a hack chaise."
do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long," said Miss Lucas, "but I
wish he had danced with Eliza."
"Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, "I would not dance with
him, if I were you."
believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you never to dance with
"His pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend me so much as
pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot
wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune,
everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may
so express it, he has a right to be proud."
"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive
his pride, if he had not mortified mine."
"Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her
reflections, "is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I
have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that
human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very
few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the
score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride
are different things, though the words are often used synonymously.
A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our
opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of
I were as rich as Mr. Darcy," cried a young Lucas, who came with his
sisters, "I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of
foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine a day."
"Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought," said Mrs.
Bennet; "and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your
boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she
would, and the argument ended only with the visit.
ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit
was soon returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew
on the goodwill 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 everybody, 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 a uniform cheerfulness of manner which would
guard her from the suspicions of the impertinent. She mentioned this
to her friend Miss Lucas.
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
women 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
"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 more leisure for falling in love as much as she
"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 with him in
company four times. This is not quite enough to make her understand
"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 also been 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; but with respect to any
other leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been
"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 hardly had 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.
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."
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 you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly
well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball
"With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a lady
"You are severe on us."
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 anybody and everybody! 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 fine old
saying, which everybody here is of course familiar with: 'Keep your
breath to cool your porridge'; and I shall keep mine to swell my
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.
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 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 society."
"Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue
amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can
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?"
you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?"
is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it."
"You have a house in town, I conclude?"
had once had some thought 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."
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 action of doing a very gallant thing, and called out
dear Miss Eliza, why are you not 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
"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
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.
is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we
cannot wonder at his complaisance—for who would object to such a
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:
can guess the subject of your reverie."
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 those
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 serious about it, I shall consider the matter is
absolutely settled. You will be having a charming mother-in-law,
indeed; and, of course, she will always be at Pemberley with you."
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.
Bennet's property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two
thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was
entailed, in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their
mother's fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but
ill supply the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in
Meryton, and had left her four thousand pounds.
had a sister married to a Mr. Phillips, who had been a clerk to
their father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother
settled in London in a respectable line of trade.
village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most
convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted
thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt
and to a milliner's shop just over the way. The two youngest of the
family, Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these
attentions; their minds were more vacant than their sisters', and
when nothing better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to
amuse their morning hours and furnish conversation for the evening;
and however bare of news the country in general might be, they
always contrived to learn some from their aunt. At present, indeed,
they were well supplied both with news and happiness by the recent
arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood; it was to remain
the whole winter, and Meryton was the headquarters.
Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most
interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their
knowledge of the officers' names and connections. Their lodgings
were not long a secret, and at length they began to know the
officers themselves. Mr. Phillips visited them all, and this opened
to his nieces a store of felicity unknown before. They could talk of
nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley's large fortune, the mention
of which gave animation to their mother, was worthless in their eyes
when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.
After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr.
Bennet coolly observed:
"From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be
two of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some
time, but I am now convinced."
Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with
perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain
Carter, and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he
was going the next morning to London.
am astonished, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "that you should be so
ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think
slightingly of anybody's children, it should not be of my own,
my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it."
"Yes—but as it happens, they are all of them very clever."
"This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree.
I had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I
must so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters
dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of
their father and mother. When they get to our age, I dare say they
will not think about officers any more than we do. I remember the
time when I liked a red coat myself very well—and, indeed, so I do
still at my heart; and if a smart young colonel, with five or six
thousand a year, should want one of my girls I shall not say nay to
him; and I thought Colonel Forster looked very becoming the other
night at Sir William's in his regimentals."
"Mamma," cried Lydia, "my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain
Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson's as they did when they
first came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke's
Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman
with a note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the
servant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled with
pleasure, and she was eagerly calling out, while her daughter read,
"Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say?
Well, Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love."
is from Miss Bingley," said Jane, and then read it aloud.
you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me,
we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our
lives, for a whole day's tete-a-tete between two women can never end
without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My
brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.—Yours ever,
"With the officers!" cried Lydia. "I wonder my aunt did not tell us
"Dining out," said Mrs. Bennet, "that is very unlucky."
"Can I have the carriage?" said Jane.
"No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems
likely to rain; and then you must stay all night."
"That would be a good scheme," said Elizabeth, "if you were sure
that they would not offer to send her home."
"Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley's chaise to go to
Meryton, and the Hursts have no horses to theirs."
had much rather go in the coach."
"But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They
are wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are they not?"
"They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them."
"But if you have got them to-day," said Elizabeth, "my mother's
purpose will be answered."
did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses
were engaged. Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her
mother attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a
bad day. Her hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long before
it rained hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was
delighted. The rain continued the whole evening without
intermission; Jane certainly could not come back.
"This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!" said Mrs. Bennet more than
once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the
next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her
contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from
Netherfield brought the following note for Elizabeth:
find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be
imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will
not hear of my returning till I am better. They insist also on my
seeing Mr. Jones—therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of
his having been to me—and, excepting a sore throat and headache,
there is not much the matter with me.—Yours, etc."
"Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note
aloud, "if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness—if
she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in
pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders."
"Oh! I am not afraid of her dying. People do not die of little
trifling colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays
there, it is all very well. I would go and see her if I could have
Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her,
though the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman,
walking was her only alternative. She declared her resolution.
"How can you be so silly," cried her mother, "as to think of such a
thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get
shall be very fit to see Jane—which is all I want."
this a hint to me, Lizzy," said her father, "to send for the
"No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is
nothing when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by
admire the activity of your benevolence," observed Mary, "but every
impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion,
exertion should always be in proportion to what is required."
will go as far as Meryton with you," said Catherine and Lydia.
Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off
we make haste," said Lydia, as they walked along, "perhaps we may
see something of Captain Carter before he goes."
Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of
one of the officers' wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone,
crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and
springing over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself
at last within view of the house, with weary ankles, dirty
stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise.
was shown into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane were
assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of
surprise. That she should have walked three miles so early in the
day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that they
held her in contempt for it. She was received, however, very
politely by them; and in their brother's manners there was something
better than politeness; there was good humour and kindness. Mr.
Darcy said very little, and Mr. Hurst nothing at all. The former was
divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had
given to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion's justifying
her coming so far alone. The latter was thinking only of his
inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss
Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not well
enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her
immediately; and Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of
giving alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note how much
she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was
not equal, however, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left
them together, could attempt little besides expressions of gratitude
for the extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth
silently attended her.
When breakfast was over they were joined by the sisters; and
Elizabeth began to like them herself, when she saw how much
affection and solicitude they showed for Jane. The apothecary came,
and having examined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that
she had caught a violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get
the better of it; advised her to return to bed, and promised her
some draughts. The advice was followed readily, for the feverish
symptoms increased, and her head ached acutely. Elizabeth did not
quit her room for a moment; nor were the other ladies often absent;
the gentlemen being out, they had, in fact, nothing to do elsewhere.
When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and
very unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and
she only wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane testified
such concern in parting with her, that Miss Bingley was obliged to
convert the offer of the chaise to an invitation to remain at
Netherfield for the present. Elizabeth most thankfully consented,
and a servant was dispatched to Longbourn to acquaint the family
with her stay and bring back a supply of clothes.
five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half-past six
Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries which then
poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing
the much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley's, she could not make a
very favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on
hearing this, repeated three or four times how much they were
grieved, how shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively
they disliked being ill themselves; and then thought no more of the
matter: and their indifference towards Jane when not immediately
before them restored Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her former
Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she could
regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Jane was evident, and
his attentions to herself most pleasing, and they prevented her
feeling herself so much an intruder as she believed she was
considered by the others. She had very little notice from any but
him. Miss Bingley was engrossed by Mr. Darcy, her sister scarcely
less so; and as for Mr. Hurst, by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an
indolent man, who lived only to eat, drink, and play at cards; who,
when he found her to prefer a plain dish to a ragout, had nothing to
say to her.
When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss
Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her
manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride
and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no beauty. Mrs.
Hurst thought the same, and added:
"She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent
walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really
looked almost wild."
"She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very
nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about
the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so
"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; "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."
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."
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."
shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said
am afraid, Mr. Darcy," observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper,
"that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine
"Not at all," he replied; "they were brightened by the exercise." A
short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again:
have an excessive regard for Miss 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."
think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in
"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside."
"That is capital," added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.
they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside," cried Bingley,
"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.
this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their
hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense
of their dear friend's vulgar relations.
With a renewal of tenderness, however, they returned to her room on
leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till summoned to
coffee. She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not quit her
at all, till late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing
her sleep, and when it seemed to her rather right than pleasant that
she should go downstairs herself. On entering the drawing-room she
found the whole party at loo, and was immediately invited to join
them; but suspecting them to be playing high she declined it, and
making her sister the excuse, said she would amuse herself for the
short time she could stay below, with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at
her with astonishment.
you prefer reading to cards?" said he; "that is rather singular."
"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, "despises cards. She is a
great reader, and has no pleasure in anything else."
deserve neither such praise nor such censure," cried Elizabeth; "I
am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things."
nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure," said Bingley; "and
I hope it will be soon increased by seeing her quite well."
Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards the
table where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch
her others—all that his library afforded.
"And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own
credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have
more than I ever looked into."
Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with
those in the room.
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!"
ought to be good," he replied, "it has been the work of many
"And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always
cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as
"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."
wish it may."
"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
am talking of possibilities, Charles."
"Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get
Pemberley by purchase than by imitation."
Elizabeth was so much caught with what passed, as to leave her very
little attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she
drew near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley
and his eldest sister, to observe the game.
Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?" said Miss Bingley; "will
she be as tall as I am?"
think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or
"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 pianoforte is
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?"
"Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens,
and net purses. I scarcely know anyone 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
"Nor I, I am sure," said Miss Bingley.
"Then," observed Elizabeth, "you must comprehend a great deal in
your idea of an accomplished woman."
"Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it."
"Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant, "no one can be really
esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually
met with. 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, "and to all this she must
yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind
by extensive reading."
am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished
women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any."
"Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of
never saw such a woman. I never saw such capacity, and taste, and
application, and elegance, as you describe united."
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of
her implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many
women who answered this description, when Mr. Hurst called them to
order, with bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going
forward. As all conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon
afterwards left the room.
"Elizabeth 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. 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 a meanness in all the arts which ladies
sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears
affinity to cunning is despicable."
Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to
continue the subject.
Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was worse,
and that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones being sent
for immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice
could be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of
the most eminent physicians. This she would not hear of; but she was
not so unwilling to comply with their brother's proposal; and it was
settled that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if
Miss Bennet were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite
uncomfortable; his sisters declared that they were miserable. They
solaced their wretchedness, however, by duets after supper, while he
could find no better relief to his feelings than by giving his
housekeeper directions that every attention might be paid to the
sick lady and her sister.
Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in her sister's room, and in
the morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable
answer to the inquiries which she very early received from Mr.
Bingley by a housemaid, and some time afterwards from the two
elegant ladies who waited on his sisters. In spite of this
amendment, however, she requested to have a note sent to Longbourn,
desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her own judgement of her
situation. The note was immediately dispatched, and its contents as
quickly complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her two youngest
girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast.
she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have been
very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness
was not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as
her restoration to health would probably remove her from
Netherfield. She would not listen, therefore, to her daughter's
proposal of being carried home; neither did the apothecary, who
arrived about the same time, think it at all advisable. After
sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss Bingley's appearance and
invitation, the mother and three daughters all attended her into the
breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopes that Mrs. Bennet had
not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.
"Indeed I have, sir," was her answer. "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 will receive every possible attention
while she remains with us."
Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.
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 have 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 the 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
"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
"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said
"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried he, turning towards her.
"Oh! yes—I understand you perfectly."
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. It does not 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."
did not know before," continued Bingley immediately, "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, "can in general supply but a few subjects
for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very
confined and unvarying society."
"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to
be observed in them for ever."
"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of
mentioning a country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as
much of that going on in the country as in town."
Everybody was surprised, and Darcy, after looking at her for a
moment, turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had
gained a complete victory over him, continued her triumph.
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 it not, 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," looking at Darcy, "seemed to think the country was
nothing at all."
"Indeed, Mamma, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her
mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there was
not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in the
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
Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his
countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eyes
towards Mr. Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the
sake of saying something that might turn her mother's thoughts, now
asked her if Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since her
"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 easy! He has always something to say to everybody.
That is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy
themselves very important, and never open their mouths, quite
mistake the matter."
"Did Charlotte dine with you?"
"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 very differently. But
everybody 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."
"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, Jane—one does not
often see anybody better looking. It is what everybody says. I do
not trust my own partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a
man 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 Elizabeth impatiently. "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!"
have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said
a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is
strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of
inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it
Darcy only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth
tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again. She longed
to speak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short
silence Mrs. Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for
his kindness to Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with
Lizzy. Mr. Bingley was unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced
his younger sister to be civil also, and say what the occasion
required. She performed her part indeed without much graciousness,
but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and soon afterwards ordered her
carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of her daughters put
herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to each other
during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the youngest
should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming into
the country to give a ball at Netherfield.
Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine
complexion and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with her
mother, whose affection had brought her into public at an early age.
She had high animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence,
which the attention of the officers, to whom her uncle's good
dinners, and her own easy manners recommended her, had increased
into assurance. She was very equal, therefore, to address Mr.
Bingley on the subject of the ball, and abruptly reminded him of his
promise; 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
delightful to their mother's ear:
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 when she is
Lydia declared herself satisfied. "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 Elizabeth returned
instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations' behaviour to
the remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom,
however, could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of
her, in spite of all Miss Bingley's witticisms on fine eyes.
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 appear. Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near
him, was watching the progress of his letter and repeatedly calling
off his attention by messages to his sister. 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 Darcy and his companion. The
perpetual commendations of the lady, either on his handwriting, or
on the evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with
the perfect unconcern with which her praises were received, formed a
curious dialogue, and was exactly in union with her opinion of each.
"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!"
made no answer.
"You write uncommonly fast."
"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."
"How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a
year! Letters of business, too! How odious I should think them!"
is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of yours."
"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her."
have already told her so once, by your desire."
am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend
pens remarkably well."
"Thank you—but I always mend my own."
"How can you contrive to write so even?"
"Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the
harp; and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her
beautiful little design for a table, and I think it infinitely
superior to Miss Grantley's."
"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again?
At present I have not room to do them justice."
"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."
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, Caroline," cried her
brother, "because he does not write with ease. He studies too
much for words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?"
style of writing is very different from yours."
"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most careless way
imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest."
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
"Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, "must disarm reproof."
"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of
humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an
"And which of the two do you call my little recent piece of
"The indirect boast; for you are really 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. The power of doing anything with
quickness is always prized much by the possessor, and often without
any attention to the imperfection of the performance. 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 panegyric, of compliment to yourself—and yet what is there
so very laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary
business undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or
"Nay," cried 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."
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 do it, you would probably
not go—and at another word, might stay a month."
"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, "that Mr. Bingley
did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off
now much more than he did himself."
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
"You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call
mine, but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case,
however, to stand according to your representation, you must
remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is supposed to desire his
return to the house, and the delay of his plan, has merely desired
it, asked it without offering one argument in favour of its
yield readily—easily—to the persuasion of a friend is no
merit with you."
yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of
"You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of
friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often
make one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments
to reason one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case
as you have supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait,
perhaps, till the circumstance occurs before we discuss the
discretion of his behaviour thereupon. But 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?"
"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to
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?"
all means," cried Bingley; "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, in
comparison with myself, I should not pay him 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."
Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was
rather offended, and therefore checked her laugh. Miss Bingley
warmly resented the indignity he had received, in an expostulation
with her brother for talking such nonsense.
see your design, Bingley," said his friend. "You dislike an
argument, and want to silence this."
"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. 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 of me."
"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr.
Darcy had much better finish his letter."
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. Miss Bingley moved with
some alacrity to the pianoforte; and, after a polite request that
Elizabeth would lead the way which the other as politely and more
earnestly negatived, she seated herself.
Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, 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 Mr. Darcy's
eyes were fixed on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she
could be an object of admiration to so great a man; and yet that he
should look at her because he disliked her, was still more strange.
She could only imagine, however, at last that she drew his notice
because there was something more wrong and reprehensible, according
to his ideas of right, than in any other person present. The
supposition did not pain her. She liked him too little to care for
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:
not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an
opportunity of dancing a reel?"
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 kind 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
had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really
believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections,
he should be in some danger.
Miss Bingley saw, or suspected enough to be jealous; and her great
anxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Jane received some
assistance from her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth.
often tried to provoke Darcy into disliking her guest, by talking of
their supposed marriage, and planning his happiness in such an
hope," said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery the
next day, "you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this
desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her
tongue; and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of
running after officers. And, if I may mention so delicate a subject,
endeavour to check that little something, bordering on conceit and
impertinence, which your lady possesses."
"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. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must
not have it taken, for what painter could do justice to those
would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their
colour and shape, and the eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might be
that moment they were met from another walk by Mrs. Hurst and
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. Mr. Darcy felt their
rudeness, and immediately said:
"This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into
Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination to remain with them,
"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."
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
When 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.
when the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the first object;
Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned toward Darcy, and she had
something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He
addressed himself to Miss Bennet, 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.
When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the
card-table—but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that
Mr. Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst soon found even his
open petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to
play, and the silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to
justify her. Mr. Hurst had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch
himself on one of the sofas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book;
Miss Bingley did the same; and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in
playing with her bracelets and rings, joined now and then in her
brother's conversation with Miss Bennet.
Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in watching Mr.
Darcy's progress through his book, as in reading her own; and
she was perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his
page. She could not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely
answered her question, and read on. At length, quite exhausted by
the attempt to be amused with her own book, which she had only
chosen because it was the second volume of his, she gave a great
yawn and said, "How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way!
I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much
sooner one tires of anything than of a book! When I have a house of
my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library."
one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her book, and
cast her eyes round the room in quest for some amusement; when
hearing her brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned
suddenly towards him and said:
the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at
Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to
consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there
are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment
than a pleasure."
you mean Darcy," cried her brother, "he may go to bed, if he
chooses, before it begins—but as for the ball, it is quite a settled
thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough, I shall
send round my cards."
should like balls infinitely better," she replied, "if they were
carried on in a different manner; but there is something
insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It
would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of
dancing were made the order of the day."
"Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not
be near so much like a ball."
Miss Bingley made no answer, and soon afterwards she got up and
walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well;
but Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious.
In the desperation of her feelings, she resolved on one effort more,
and, turning to Elizabeth, said:
"Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and
take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after
sitting so long in one attitude."
Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingley
succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy
looked up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that
quarter as Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his
book. He was directly invited to join their party, but he declined
it, observing that he could imagine but two motives for their
choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which
motives his joining them would interfere. "What could he mean? She
was dying to know what could be his meaning?"—and asked Elizabeth
whether she could at all understand him?
"Not at all," was her answer; "but depend upon it, he means to be
severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask
nothing about it."
Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in
anything, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of
his two motives.
have not the smallest objection to explaining them," said he, as
soon as she allowed him to speak. "You either choose this method of
passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence, and
have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that
your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the
first, I would be completely in your way, and if the second, I can
admire you much better as I sit by the fire."
"Oh! shocking!" cried Miss Bingley. "I never heard anything so
abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?"
"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said Elizabeth.
"We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him—laugh at him.
Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done."
"But upon my honour, I do not. I do assure you that my
intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of manner
and presence of mind! No, no; I feel he may defy us there. And as to
laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting
to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself."
"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried Elizabeth. "That is an
uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it
would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances.
I dearly love a laugh."
"Miss Bingley," said he, "has given me more credit than can be. The
wisest and the best of men—nay, the wisest and best of their
actions—may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in
life is a joke."
"Certainly," replied Elizabeth—"there are such people, but I hope I
am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and
good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do
divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I
suppose, are precisely what you are without."
"Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study
of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong
understanding to ridicule."
"Such as vanity and pride."
"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride—where there is a real
superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation."
Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.
"Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume," said Miss
Bingley; "and pray what is the result?"
am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns
it himself without disguise."
"No," said Darcy, "I have made no such pretension. I have faults
enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare
not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding—certainly too
little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies
and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against
myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move
them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion
once lost, is lost forever."
is a failing indeed!" cried Elizabeth. "Implacable resentment is
a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I
really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me."
"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some
particular evil—a natural defect, which not even the best education
"And your defect is to hate everybody."
"And yours," he replied with a smile, "is willfully to misunderstand
let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley, tired of a
conversation in which she had no share. "Louisa, you will not mind
my waking Mr. Hurst?"
sister had not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was
opened; and Darcy, after a few moments' recollection, was not sorry
for it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much
consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the
next morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent
for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had
calculated on her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the
following Tuesday, which would exactly finish Jane's week, could not
bring herself to receive them with pleasure before. Her answer,
therefore, was not propitious, at least not to Elizabeth's wishes,
for she was impatient to get home. Mrs. Bennet sent them word that
they could not possibly have the carriage before Tuesday; and in her
postscript it was added, that if Mr. Bingley and his sister pressed
them to stay longer, she could spare them very well. Against staying
longer, however, Elizabeth was positively resolved—nor did she much
expect it would be asked; and fearful, on the contrary, as being
considered as intruding themselves needlessly long, she urged Jane
to borrow Mr. Bingley's carriage immediately, and at length it was
settled that their original design of leaving Netherfield that
morning should be mentioned, and the request made.
communication excited many professions of concern; and enough was
said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day to work
on Jane; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Miss Bingley
was then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and
dislike of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other.
master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so
soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not
be safe for her—that she was not enough recovered; but Jane was firm
where she felt herself to be right.
Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence—Elizabeth had been at
Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked—and
Miss Bingley was uncivil to her, and more teasing than usual
to himself. He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no
sign of admiration should now escape him, nothing that could
elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity; sensible that
if such an idea had been suggested, his behaviour during the last
day must have material weight in confirming or crushing it. Steady
to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole
of Saturday, and though they were at one time left by themselves for
half-an-hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would
not even look at her.
Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to
almost all, took place. Miss Bingley's civility to Elizabeth
increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane;
and when they parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it
would always give her to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield,
and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with the
former. Elizabeth took leave of the whole party in the liveliest of
They were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs.
Bennet wondered at their coming, and thought them very wrong to give
so much trouble, and was sure Jane would have caught cold again. But
their father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure,
was really glad to see them; he had felt their importance in the
family circle. The evening conversation, when they were all
assembled, had lost much of its animation, and almost all its sense
by the absence of Jane and Elizabeth.
They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough-bass and
human nature; and had some extracts to admire, and some new
observations of threadbare morality to listen to. Catherine and
Lydia had information for them of a different sort. Much had been
done and much had been said in the regiment since the preceding
Wednesday; several of the officers had dined lately with their
uncle, a private had been flogged, and it had actually been hinted
that Colonel Forster was going to be married.
hope, my dear," said Mr. Bennet to his wife, as they were at
breakfast the next morning, "that you have ordered a good dinner
to-day, because I have reason to expect an addition to our family
"Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming, I am
sure, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call in—and I hope
my dinners are good enough for her. I do not believe she often
sees such at home."
"The person of whom I speak is a gentleman, and a stranger."
Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled. "A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr.
Bingley, I am sure! Well, I am sure I shall be extremely glad to see
Mr. Bingley. But—good Lord! how unlucky! There is not a bit of fish
to be got to-day. Lydia, my love, ring the bell—I must speak to Hill
is not Mr. Bingley," said her husband; "it is a person whom I
never saw in the whole course of my life."
This roused a general astonishment; and he had the pleasure of being
eagerly questioned by his wife and his five daughters at once.
After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, he thus
"About a month ago I received this letter; and about a fortnight ago
I answered it, for I thought it a case of some delicacy, and
requiring early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who,
when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he
"Oh! my dear," cried his wife, "I cannot bear to hear that
mentioned. Pray do not talk of that odious man. I do think it is the
hardest thing in the world, that your estate should be entailed away
from your own children; and I am sure, if I had been you, I should
have tried long ago to do something or other about it."
Jane and Elizabeth tried to explain to her the nature of an entail.
They had often attempted to do it before, but it was a subject on
which Mrs. Bennet was beyond the reach of reason, and she continued
to rail bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from
a family of five daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared
certainly is a most iniquitous affair," said Mr. Bennet, "and
nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting
Longbourn. But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be
a little softened by his manner of expressing himself."
"No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it is very impertinent
of him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such
false friends. Why could he not keep on quarreling with you, as his
father did before him?"
"Why, indeed; he does seem to have had some filial scruples on that
head, as you will hear."
"Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, 15th October.
"The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured
father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the
misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach;
but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it
might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms
with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be at
variance.—'There, Mrs. Bennet.'—My mind, however, is now made up on
the subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been
so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right
Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh,
whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable
rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to
demean myself with grateful respect towards her ladyship, and be
ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are
instituted by the Church of England. As a clergyman, moreover, I
feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in
all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds
I flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable,
and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of
Longbourn estate will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not
lead you to reject the offered olive-branch. I cannot be otherwise
than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable
daughters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to assure
you of my readiness to make them every possible amends—but of this
hereafter. If you should have no objection to receive me into your
house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your
family, Monday, November 18th, by four o'clock, and shall probably
trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se'ennight following,
which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far
from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that
some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.—I remain,
dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters,
your well-wisher and friend,
four o'clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman,"
said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter. "He seems to be a most
conscientious and polite young man, upon my word, and I doubt not
will prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if Lady Catherine
should be so indulgent as to let him come to us again."
"There is some sense in what he says about the girls, however, and
if he is disposed to make them any amends, I shall not be the person
to discourage him."
"Though it is difficult," said Jane, "to guess in what way he can
mean to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is
certainly to his credit."
Elizabeth was chiefly struck by his extraordinary deference for Lady
Catherine, and his kind intention of christening, marrying, and
burying his parishioners whenever it were required.
must be an oddity, I think," said she. "I cannot make him out.—There
is something very pompous in his style.—And what can he mean by
apologising for being next in the entail?—We cannot suppose he would
help it if he could.—Could he be a sensible man, sir?"
"No, my dear, I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite
the reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in
his letter, which promises well. I am impatient to see him."
point of composition," said Mary, "the letter does not seem
defective. The idea of the olive-branch perhaps is not wholly new,
yet I think it is well expressed."
Catherine and Lydia, neither the letter nor its writer were in any
degree interesting. It was next to impossible that their cousin
should come in a scarlet coat, and it was now some weeks since they
had received pleasure from the society of a man in any other colour.
As for their mother, Mr. Collins's letter had done away much of her
ill-will, and she was preparing to see him with a degree of
composure which astonished her husband and daughters.
Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with great
politeness by the whole family. Mr. Bennet indeed said little; but
the ladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr. Collins seemed neither
in need of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. He was
a tall, heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty. His air was
grave and stately, and his manners were very formal. He had not been
long seated before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a
family of daughters; said he had heard much of their beauty, but
that in this instance fame had fallen short of the truth; and added,
that he did not doubt her seeing them all in due time disposed of in
marriage. This gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his
hearers; but Mrs. Bennet, who quarreled with no compliments,
answered most readily.
"You are very kind, I am sure; and I wish with all my heart it may
prove so, for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled
"You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate."
"Ah! sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to my poor girls, you
must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with you, for
such things I know are all chance in this world. There is no knowing
how estates will go when once they come to be entailed."
am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins, and
could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing
forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I
come prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more; but,
perhaps, when we are better acquainted—"
was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled on each
other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Collins's admiration.
The hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture, were examined and
praised; and his commendation of everything would have touched Mrs.
Bennet's heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it
all as his own future property. The dinner too in its turn was
highly admired; and he begged to know to which of his fair cousins
the excellency of its cooking was owing. But he was set right there
by Mrs. Bennet, who assured him with some asperity that they were
very well able to keep a good cook, and that her daughters had
nothing to do in the kitchen. He begged pardon for having displeased
her. In a softened tone she declared herself not at all offended;
but he continued to apologise for about a quarter of an hour.
During dinner, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all; but when the
servants were withdrawn, he thought it time to have some
conversation with his guest, and therefore started a subject in
which he expected him to shine, by observing that he seemed very
fortunate in his patroness. Lady Catherine de Bourgh's attention to
his wishes, and consideration for his comfort, appeared very
remarkable. Mr. Bennet could not have chosen better. Mr. Collins was
eloquent in her praise. The subject elevated him to more than usual
solemnity of manner, and with a most important aspect he protested
that "he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in a person
of rank—such affability and condescension, as he had himself
experienced from Lady Catherine. She had been graciously pleased to
approve of both of the discourses which he had already had the
honour of preaching before her. She had also asked him twice to dine
at Rosings, and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to make
up her pool of quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine was reckoned
proud by many people he knew, but he had never seen anything
but affability in her. She had always spoken to him as she would to
any other gentleman; she made not the smallest objection to his
joining in the society of the neighbourhood nor to his leaving the
parish occasionally for a week or two, to visit his relations. She
had even condescended to advise him to marry as soon as he could,
provided he chose with discretion; and had once paid him a visit in
his humble parsonage, where she had perfectly approved all the
alterations he had been making, and had even vouchsafed to suggest
some herself—some shelves in the closet up stairs."
"That is all very proper and civil, I am sure," said Mrs. Bennet,
"and I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that
great ladies in general are not more like her. Does she live near
"The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a
lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence."
think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?"
"She has only one daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very
"Ah!" said Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, "then she is better off
than many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she
"She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself
says that, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior
to the handsomest of her sex, because there is that in her features
which marks the young lady of distinguished birth. She is
unfortunately of a sickly constitution, which has prevented her from
making that progress in many accomplishments which she could not
have otherwise failed of, as I am informed by the lady who
superintended her education, and who still resides with them. But
she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends to drive by my
humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies."
"Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies
"Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in
town; and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine one day, has
deprived the British court of its brightest ornament. Her ladyship
seemed pleased with the idea; and you may imagine that I am happy on
every occasion to offer those little delicate compliments which are
always acceptable to ladies. I have more than once observed to Lady
Catherine, that her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess,
and that the most elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence,
would be adorned by her. These are the kind of little things which
please her ladyship, and it is a sort of attention which I conceive
myself peculiarly bound to pay."
"You judge very properly," said Mr. Bennet, "and it is happy for you
that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask
whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the
moment, or are the result of previous study?"
"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I
sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little
elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I
always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible."
Bennet's expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd
as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment,
maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of
countenance, and, except in an occasional glance at Elizabeth,
requiring no partner in his pleasure.
tea-time, however, the dose had been enough, and Mr. Bennet was glad
to take his guest into the drawing-room again, and, when tea was
over, glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins
readily assented, and a book was produced; but, on beholding it (for
everything announced it to be from a circulating library), he
started back, and begging pardon, protested that he never read
novels. Kitty stared at him, and Lydia exclaimed. Other books were
produced, and after some deliberation he chose Fordyce's Sermons.
Lydia gaped as he opened the volume, and before he had, with very
monotonous solemnity, read three pages, she interrupted him with:
you know, mamma, that my uncle Phillips talks of turning away
Richard; and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire him. My aunt told
me so herself on Saturday. I shall walk to Meryton to-morrow to hear
more about it, and to ask when Mr. Denny comes back from town."
Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue; but Mr.
Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said:
have often observed how little young ladies are interested by books
of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. It
amazes me, I confess; for, certainly, there can be nothing so
advantageous to them as instruction. But I will no longer importune
my young cousin."
Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist at
backgammon. Mr. Bennet accepted the challenge, observing that he
acted very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling
amusements. Mrs. Bennet and her daughters apologised most civilly
for Lydia's interruption, and promised that it should not occur
again, if he would resume his book; but Mr. Collins, after assuring
them that he bore his young cousin no ill-will, and should never
resent her behaviour as any affront, seated himself at another table
with Mr. Bennet, and prepared for backgammon.
Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had
been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part
of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate
and miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the
universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms, without
forming at it any useful acquaintance. The subjection in which his
father had brought him up had given him originally great humility of
manner; but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit
of a weak head, living in retirement, and the consequential feelings
of early and unexpected prosperity. A fortunate chance had
recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the living of
Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her high
rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a
very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and
his right as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of pride and
obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.
Having now a good house and a very sufficient income, he intended to
marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he
had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if
he found them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by
common report. This was his plan of amends—of atonement—for
inheriting their father's estate; and he thought it an excellent
one, full of eligibility and suitableness, and excessively generous
and disinterested on his own part.
plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet's lovely face
confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of
what was due to seniority; and for the first evening she was
his settled choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration;
for in a quarter of an hour's tete-a-tete with Mrs. Bennet before
breakfast, a conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and
leading naturally to the avowal of his hopes, that a mistress might
be found for it at Longbourn, produced from her, amid very
complaisant smiles and general encouragement, a caution against the
very Jane he had fixed on. "As to her younger daughters, she
could not take upon her to say—she could not positively answer—but
she did not know of any prepossession; her eldest
daughter, she must just mention—she felt it incumbent on her to
hint, was likely to be very soon engaged."
Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth—and it was soon
done—done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth,
equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course.
Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon
have two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to
speak of the day before was now high in her good graces.
Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every
sister except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to
attend them, at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to
get rid of him, and have his library to himself; for thither Mr.
Collins had followed him after breakfast; and there he would
continue, nominally engaged with one of the largest folios in the
collection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, with little cessation,
of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such doings discomposed Mr.
Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been always sure of
leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told Elizabeth,
to meet with folly and conceit in every other room of the house, he
was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore, was
most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their
walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker
than a reader, was extremely pleased to close his large book, and
pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his
cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention
of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their
eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the
officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a
really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them.
the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom
they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance,
walking with another officer on the other side of the way. The
officer was the very Mr. Denny concerning whose return from London
Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck
with the stranger's air, all wondered who he could be; and Kitty and
Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the
street, under pretense of wanting something in an opposite shop, and
fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen,
turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them
directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr.
Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he
was happy to say had accepted a commission in their corps. This was
exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals
to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his
favour; he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a
good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was
followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation—a
readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the
whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably,
when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley
were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of
the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began
the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss
Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to
Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it
with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on
Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the
stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as
they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the
meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr.
Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat—a salutation which Mr.
Darcy just deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? It
was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.
another minute, Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed
what passed, took leave and rode on with his friend.
Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of
Mr. Phillip's house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss
Lydia's pressing entreaties that they should come in, and even in
spite of Mrs. Phillips's throwing up the parlour window and loudly
seconding the invitation.
Mrs. Phillips was always glad to see her nieces; and the two eldest,
from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was
eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which,
as their own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known
nothing about, if she had not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop-boy
in the street, who had told her that they were not to send any more
draughts to Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away,
when her civility was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's
introduction of him. She received him with her very best politeness,
which he returned with as much more, apologising for his intrusion,
without any previous acquaintance with her, which he could not help
flattering himself, however, might be justified by his relationship
to the young ladies who introduced him to her notice. Mrs. Phillips
was quite awed by such an excess of good breeding; but her
contemplation of one stranger was soon put to an end by exclamations
and inquiries about the other; of whom, however, she could only tell
her nieces what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had brought him
from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant's commission in
the ——shire. She had been watching him the last hour, she said, as
he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. Wickham appeared,
Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation, but
unluckily no one passed windows now except a few of the officers,
who, in comparison with the stranger, were become "stupid,
disagreeable fellows." Some of them were to dine with the Phillipses
the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on
Mr. Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from
Longbourn would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs.
Phillips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy
game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards.
The prospect of such delights was very cheering, and they parted in
mutual good spirits. Mr. Collins repeated his apologies in quitting
the room, and was assured with unwearying civility that they were
they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass
between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended
either or both, had they appeared to be in the wrong, she could no
more explain such behaviour than her sister.
Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs.
Phillips's manners and politeness. He protested that, except Lady
Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman;
for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but even
pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening,
although utterly unknown to her before. Something, he supposed,
might be attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had
never met with so much attention in the whole course of his life.
no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their
aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet
for a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted,
the coach conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to
Meryton; and the girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered
the drawing-room, that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's
invitation, and was then in the house.
When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats,
Mr. Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was
so much struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he
declared he might almost have supposed himself in the small summer
breakfast parlour at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first
convey much gratification; but when Mrs. Phillips understood from
him what Rosings was, and who was its proprietor—when she had
listened to the description of only one of Lady Catherine's
drawing-rooms, and found that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight
hundred pounds, she felt all the force of the compliment, and would
hardly have resented a comparison with the housekeeper's room.
describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her
mansion, with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble
abode, and the improvements it was receiving, he was happily
employed until the gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs.
Phillips a very attentive listener, whose opinion of his consequence
increased with what she heard, and who was resolving to retail it
all among her neighbours as soon as she could. To the girls, who
could not listen to their cousin, and who had nothing to do but to
wish for an instrument, and examine their own indifferent imitations
of china on the mantelpiece, the interval of waiting appeared very
long. It was over at last, however. The gentlemen did approach, and
when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had
neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, with the
smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the
——shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set, and
the best of them were of the present party; but Mr. Wickham was as
far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as
they were superior to the broad-faced, stuffy uncle Phillips,
breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.
Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was
turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated
himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into
conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, made her
feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be
rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker.
With such rivals for the notice of the fair as Mr. Wickham and the
officers, Mr. Collins seemed to sink into insignificance; to the
young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals
a kind listener in Mrs. Phillips, and was by her watchfulness, most
abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin. When the card-tables
were placed, he had the opportunity of obliging her in turn, by
sitting down to whist.
know little of the game at present," said he, "but I shall be glad
to improve myself, for in my situation in life—" Mrs. Phillips was
very glad for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.
Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he
received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first
there seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely, for she was
a most determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of
lottery tickets, she soon grew too much interested in the game, too
eager in making bets and exclaiming after prizes to have attention
for anyone in particular. Allowing for the common demands of the
game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and
she was very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to
hear she could not hope to be told—the history of his acquaintance
with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that gentleman. Her
curiosity, however, was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the
subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton;
and, after receiving her answer, asked in a hesitating manner how
long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.
"About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the
subject drop, added, "He is a man of very large property in
Derbyshire, I understand."
"Yes," replied Mr. Wickham; "his estate there is a noble one. A
clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person
more capable of giving you certain information on that head than
myself, for I have been connected with his family in a particular
manner from my infancy."
Elizabeth could not but look surprised.
"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after
seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting
yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"
much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth very warmly. "I have
spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very
have no right to give my opinion," said Wickham, "as to his
being agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have
known him too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible
for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him
would in general astonish—and perhaps you would not express it quite
so strongly anywhere else. Here you are in your own family."
"Upon my word, I say no more here than I might say in any
house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all
liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You
will not find him more favourably spoken of by anyone."
cannot pretend to be sorry," said Wickham, after a short
interruption, "that he or that any man should not be estimated
beyond their deserts; but with him I believe it does not
often happen. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence,
or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as
he chooses to be seen."
should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an
ill-tempered man." Wickham only shook his head.
wonder," said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, "whether he
is likely to be in this country much longer."
do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away
when I was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the
——shire will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood."
"Oh! no—it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If
he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not
on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I
have no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaim
before all the world, a sense of very great ill-usage, and most
painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet,
the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and
the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with
this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand
tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been scandalous;
but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and everything,
rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of
Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened
with all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented further
Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the
neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that
he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter with gentle but very
was the prospect of constant society, and good society," he added,
"which was my chief inducement to enter the ——shire. I knew it to be
a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me
further by his account of their present quarters, and the very great
attentions and excellent acquaintances Meryton had procured them.
Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man,
and my spirits will not bear solitude. I must have employment
and society. A military life is not what I was intended for, but
circumstances have now made it eligible. The church ought to
have been my profession—I was brought up for the church, and I
should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable
living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now."
"Yes—the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the
best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively
attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to
provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the
living fell, it was given elsewhere."
"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth; "but how could that be? How
could his will be disregarded? Why did you not seek legal redress?"
"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as
to give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted
the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it—or to treat it as a
merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had
forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence—in short
anything or nothing. Certain it is, that the living became vacant
two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that it
was given to another man; and no less certain is it, that I cannot
accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it.
I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may have spoken my opinion
of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing
worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and
that he hates me."
"This is quite shocking! He deserves to be publicly disgraced."
"Some time or other he will be—but it shall not be by me.
Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him."
Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer
than ever as he expressed them.
"But what," said she, after a pause, "can have been his motive? What
can have induced him to behave so cruelly?"
thorough, determined dislike of me—a dislike which I cannot but
attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked
me less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's
uncommon attachment to me irritated him, I believe, very early in
life. He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which
we stood—the sort of preference which was often given me."
had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this—though I have never liked
him. I had not thought so very ill of him. I had supposed him to be
despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him
of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such
inhumanity as this."
After a few minutes' reflection, however, she continued, "I do
remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability
of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His
disposition must be dreadful."
will not trust myself on the subject," replied Wickham; "I can
hardly be just to him."
Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, "To
treat in such a manner the godson, the friend, the favourite of his
father!" She could have added, "A young man, too, like you,
whose very countenance may vouch for your being amiable"—but she
contented herself with, "and one, too, who had probably been his
companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said,
in the closest manner!"
were born in the same parish, within the same park; the greatest
part of our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house,
sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care.
My father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr.
Phillips, appears to do so much credit to—but he gave up everything
to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy and devoted all his time to the
care of the Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr.
Darcy, a most intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often
acknowledged himself to be under the greatest obligations to my
father's active superintendence, and when, immediately before my
father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing
for me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of
gratitude to him, as of his affection to myself."
"How strange!" cried Elizabeth. "How abominable! I wonder that the
very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! If from
no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to be
dishonest—for dishonesty I must call it."
is wonderful," replied Wickham, "for almost all his actions
may be traced to pride; and pride had often been his best friend. It
has connected him nearer with virtue than with any other feeling.
But we are none of us consistent, and in his behaviour to me there
were stronger impulses even than pride."
"Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?"
"Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his
money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and
relieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride—for he is
very proud of what his father was—have done this. Not to appear to
disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or
lose the influence of the Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He
has also brotherly pride, which, with some brotherly
affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister,
and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and
best of brothers."
"What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?"
shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain
to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother—very,
very proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and
extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her
amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl,
about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished.
Since her father's death, her home has been London, where a lady
lives with her, and superintends her education."
After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could
not help reverting once more to the first, and saying:
am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley,
who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly
amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each
other? Do you know Mr. Bingley?"
"Not at all."
is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Mr.
"Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does
not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks
it worth his while. Among those who are at all his equals in
consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to the less
prosperous. His pride never deserts him; but with the rich he is
liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps
agreeable—allowing something for fortune and figure."
whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round
the other table and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin
Elizabeth and Mrs. Phillips. The usual inquiries as to his success
was made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost
every point; but when Mrs. Phillips began to express her concern
thereupon, he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not
of the least importance, that he considered the money as a mere
trifle, and begged that she would not make herself uneasy.
know very well, madam," said he, "that when persons sit down to a
card-table, they must take their chances of these things, and
happily I am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any
object. There are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but
thanks to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the
necessity of regarding little matters."
Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for
a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her
relation was very intimately acquainted with the family of de
"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she replied, "has very lately given him
a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her
notice, but he certainly has not known her long."
"You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne
Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr.
"No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's
connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before
"Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and
it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates."
This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor Miss
Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless
her affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were
already self-destined for another.
"Mr. Collins," said she, "speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and
her daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her
ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of
her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman."
believe her to be both in a great degree," replied Wickham; "I have
not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never
liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She
has the reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I
rather believe she derives part of her abilities from her rank and
fortune, part from her authoritative manner, and the rest from the
pride for her nephew, who chooses that everyone connected with him
should have an understanding of the first class."
Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it,
and they continued talking together, with mutual satisfaction till
supper put an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies their
share of Mr. Wickham's attentions. There could be no conversation in
the noise of Mrs. Phillips's supper party, but his manners
recommended him to everybody. Whatever he said, was said well; and
whatever he did, done gracefully. Elizabeth went away with her head
full of him. She could think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of
what he had told her, all the way home; but there was not time for
her even to mention his name as they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr.
Collins were once silent. Lydia talked incessantly of lottery
tickets, of the fish she had lost and the fish she had won; and Mr.
Collins in describing the civility of Mr. and Mrs. Phillips,
protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses at whist,
enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing that he
crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage
before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House.
Elizabeth related to Jane the next day what had passed between Mr.
Wickham and herself. Jane listened with astonishment and concern;
she knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be so unworthy of
Mr. Bingley's regard; and yet, it was not in her nature to question
the veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham.
The possibility of his having endured such unkindness, was enough to
interest all her tender feelings; and nothing remained therefore to
be done, but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of
each, and throw into the account of accident or mistake whatever
could not be otherwise explained.
"They have both," said she, "been deceived, I dare say, in some way
or other, of which we can form no idea. Interested people have
perhaps misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short,
impossible for us to conjecture the causes or circumstances which
may have alienated them, without actual blame on either side."
"Very true, indeed; and now, my dear Jane, what have you got to say
on behalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned
in the business? Do clear them too, or we shall be obliged to
think ill of somebody."
"Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my
opinion. My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgraceful
light it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating his father's favourite in
such a manner, one whom his father had promised to provide for. It
is impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had any value
for his character, could be capable of it. Can his most intimate
friends be so excessively deceived in him? Oh! no."
can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley's being imposed on, than
that Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself as he gave
me last night; names, facts, everything mentioned without ceremony.
If it be not so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was
truth in his looks."
is difficult indeed—it is distressing. One does not know what to
beg your pardon; one knows exactly what to think."
Jane could think with certainty on only one point—that Mr. Bingley,
if he had been imposed on, would have much to suffer when the
affair became public.
two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery, where this
conversation passed, by the arrival of the very persons of whom they
had been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their
personal invitation for the long-expected ball at Netherfield, which
was fixed for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted
to see their dear friend again, called it an age since they had met,
and repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since
their separation. To the rest of the family they paid little
attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible, saying not much
to Elizabeth, and nothing at all to the others. They were soon gone
again, rising from their seats with an activity which took their
brother by surprise, and hurrying off as if eager to escape from
Mrs. Bennet's civilities.
prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every
female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in
compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered by
receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a
ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the
society of her two friends, and the attentions of her brother; and
Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr.
Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of everything in Mr. Darcy's
look and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia
depended less on any single event, or any particular person, for
though they each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening
with Mr. Wickham, he was by no means the only partner who could
satisfy them, and a ball was, at any rate, a ball. And even Mary
could assure her family that she had no disinclination for it.
"While I can have my mornings to myself," said she, "it is enough—I
think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening
engagements. Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one
of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as
desirable for everybody."
Elizabeth's spirits were so high on this occasion, that though she
did not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not help
asking him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation,
and if he did, whether he would think it proper to join in the
evening's amusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he
entertained no scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from
dreading a rebuke either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de
Bourgh, by venturing to dance.
am by no means of the opinion, I assure you," said he, "that a ball
of this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable
people, can have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting
to dancing myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands
of all my fair cousins in the course of the evening; and I take this
opportunity of soliciting yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first
dances especially, a preference which I trust my cousin Jane will
attribute to the right cause, and not to any disrespect for her."
Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in. She had fully proposed
being engaged by Mr. Wickham for those very dances; and to have Mr.
Collins instead! her liveliness had never been worse timed. There
was no help for it, however. Mr. Wickham's happiness and her own
were perforce delayed a little longer, and Mr. Collins's proposal
accepted with as good a grace as she could. She was not the better
pleased with his gallantry from the idea it suggested of something
more. It now first struck her, that she was selected from
among her sisters as worthy of being mistress of Hunsford Parsonage,
and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the
absence of more eligible visitors. The idea soon reached to
conviction, as she observed his increasing civilities toward
herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a compliment on her wit
and vivacity; and though more astonished than gratified herself by
this effect of her charms, it was not long before her mother gave
her to understand that the probability of their marriage was
extremely agreeable to her. Elizabeth, however, did not
choose to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute
must be the consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make
the offer, and till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him.
there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of,
the younger Miss Bennets would have been in a very pitiable state at
this time, for from the day of the invitation, to the day of the
ball, there was such a succession of rain as prevented their walking
to Meryton once. No aunt, no officers, no news could be sought
after—the very shoe-roses for Netherfield were got by proxy. Even
Elizabeth might have found some trial of her patience in weather
which totally suspended the improvement of her acquaintance with Mr.
Wickham; and nothing less than a dance on Tuesday, could have made
such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday endurable to Kitty and
Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, and looked
in vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there
assembled, a doubt of his being present had never occurred to her.
The certainty of meeting him had not been checked by any of those
recollections that might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had
dressed with more than usual care, and prepared in the highest
spirits for the conquest of all that remained unsubdued of his
heart, trusting that it was not more than might be won in the course
of the evening. But in an instant arose the dreadful suspicion of
his being purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy's pleasure in the
Bingleys' invitation to the officers; and though this was not
exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was pronounced by
his friend Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who told them
that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the day
before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile,
"I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now,
if he had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here."
This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught
by Elizabeth, and, as it assured her that Darcy was not less
answerable for Wickham's absence than if her first surmise had been
just, every feeling of displeasure against the former was so
sharpened by immediate disappointment, that she could hardly reply
with tolerable civility to the polite inquiries which he directly
afterwards approached to make. Attendance, forbearance, patience
with Darcy, was injury to Wickham. She was resolved against any sort
of conversation with him, and turned away with a degree of
ill-humour which she could not wholly surmount even in speaking to
Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her.
Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect
of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on
her spirits; and having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom
she had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary
transition to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to
her particular notice. The first two dances, however, brought a
return of distress; they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins,
awkward and solemn, apologising instead of attending, and often
moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and
misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give.
The moment of her release from him was ecstasy.
danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking of
Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those
dances were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in
conversation with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by
Mr. Darcy who took her so much by surprise in his application for
her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He
walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own
want of presence of mind; Charlotte tried to console her:
dare say you will find him very agreeable."
"Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all!
To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish
me such an evil."
When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim
her hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her in a whisper, not
to be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her
appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man ten times his consequence.
Elizabeth made no answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at
the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand
opposite to Mr. Darcy, and reading in her neighbours' looks, their
equal amazement in beholding it. They stood for some time without
speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to
last through the two dances, and at first was resolved not to break
it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment
to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight
observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. After a
pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with:—"It is
your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the
dance, and you ought to make some sort of remark on the size
of the room, or the number of couples."
smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should
"Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I
may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones.
But now we may be silent."
you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?"
"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to
be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the
advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged, as
that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."
"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you
imagine that you are gratifying mine?"
"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great
similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial,
taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say
something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to
posterity with all the eclat of a proverb."
"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am
sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend
to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."
must not decide on my own performance."
made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down
the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very
often walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable
to resist the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other
day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."
effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread
his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming
herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy
spoke, and in a constrained manner said, "Mr. Wickham is blessed
with such happy manners as may ensure his making
friends—whether he may be equally capable of retaining them,
is less certain."
has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied
Elizabeth with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to
suffer from all his life."
Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject.
At that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to
pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on
perceiving Mr. Darcy, he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy to
compliment him on his dancing and his partner.
have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Such very
superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to
the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner
does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure
often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear
Eliza (glancing at her sister and Bingley) shall take place. What
congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy:—but let me
not interrupt you, sir. You will not thank me for detaining you from
the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are
also upbraiding me."
latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir
William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and
his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards
Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself,
however, shortly, he turned to his partner, and said, "Sir William's
interruption has made me forget what we were talking of."
do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have
interrupted two people in the room who had less to say for
themselves. We have tried two or three subjects already without
success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine."
"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.
"Books—oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the
am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least
be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions."
"No—I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of
"The present always occupies you in such scenes—does it?"
said he, with a look of doubt.
"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, for her
thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards
appeared by her suddenly exclaiming, "I remember hearing you once
say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment
once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as
to its being created."
am," said he, with a firm voice.
"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"
is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion,
to be secure of judging properly at first."
"May I ask to what these questions tend?"
"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she,
endeavouring to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."
"And what is your success?"
shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different
accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."
can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that reports may vary
greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you
were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is
reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on
"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another
would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied.
She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in
silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal
degree, for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling
towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his
anger against another.
They had not long separated, when Miss Bingley came towards her, and
with an expression of civil disdain accosted her:
"So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham!
Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a
thousand questions; and I find that the young man quite forgot to
tell you, among his other communication, that he was the son of old
Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you,
however, as a friend, not to give implicit confidence to all his
assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy's using him ill, it is perfectly
false; for, on the contrary, he has always been remarkably kind to
him, though George Wickham has treated Mr. Darcy in a most infamous
manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr.
Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he cannot bear to hear
George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother thought that he
could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the
officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself
out of the way. His coming into the country at all is a most
insolent thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it.
I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite's
guilt; but really, considering his descent, one could not expect
"His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same,"
said Elizabeth angrily; "for I have heard you accuse him of nothing
worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of that,
I can assure you, he informed me himself."
beg your pardon," replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer.
"Excuse my interference—it was kindly meant."
"Insolent girl!" said Elizabeth to herself. "You are much mistaken
if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see
nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr.
Darcy." She then sought her eldest sister, who has undertaken to
make inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a
smile of such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as
sufficiently marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences
of the evening. Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that
moment solicitude for Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and
everything else, gave way before the hope of Jane's being in the
fairest way for happiness.
want to know," said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her
sister's, "what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you
have been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in
which case you may be sure of my pardon."
"No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing
satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his
history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have
principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good
conduct, the probity, and honour of his friend, and is perfectly
convinced that Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr.
Darcy than he has received; and I am sorry to say by his account as
well as his sister's, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young
man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to
lose Mr. Darcy's regard."
"Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?"
"No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton."
"This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am
satisfied. But what does he say of the living?"
does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard
them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left
to him conditionally only."
have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity," said Elizabeth warmly;
"but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr.
Bingley's defense of his friend was a very able one, I dare say; but
since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has
learnt the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture to still
think of both gentlemen as I did before."
then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on
which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened
with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane
entertained of Mr. Bingley's regard, and said all in her power to
heighten her confidence in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley
himself, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after
the pleasantness of her last partner she had scarcely replied,
before Mr. Collins came up to them, and told her with great
exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make a most
have found out," said he, "by a singular accident, that there is now
in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear
the gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the
honours of the house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of
her mother Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things
occur! Who would have thought of my meeting with, perhaps, a nephew
of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in this assembly! I am most thankful
that the discovery is made in time for me to pay my respects to him,
which I am now going to do, and trust he will excuse my not having
done it before. My total ignorance of the connection must plead my
"You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy!"
"Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it
earlier. I believe him to be Lady Catherine's nephew. It will
be in my power to assure him that her ladyship was quite well
Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring
him that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without
introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to
his aunt; that it was not in the least necessary there should be any
notice on either side; and that if it were, it must belong to Mr.
Darcy, the superior in consequence, to begin the acquaintance. Mr.
Collins listened to her with the determined air of following his own
inclination, and, when she ceased speaking, replied thus:
dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world in your
excellent judgement in all matters within the scope of your
understanding; but permit me to say, that there must be a wide
difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the
laity, and those which regulate the clergy; for, give me leave to
observe that I consider the clerical office as equal in point of
dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom—provided that a proper
humility of behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must
therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this
occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a point of
duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice, which on
every other subject shall be my constant guide, though in the case
before us I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual
study to decide on what is right than a young lady like yourself."
And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy, whose reception
of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at being
so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with a
solemn bow and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as
if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words
"apology," "Hunsford," and "Lady Catherine de Bourgh." It vexed her
to see him expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him
with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him
time to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins,
however, was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy's
contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of his second
speech, and at the end of it he only made him a slight bow, and
moved another way. Mr. Collins then returned to Elizabeth.
have no reason, I assure you," said he, "to be dissatisfied with my
reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He
answered me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the
compliment of saying that he was so well convinced of Lady
Catherine's discernment as to be certain she could never bestow a
favour unworthily. It was really a very handsome thought. Upon the
whole, I am much pleased with him."
Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she
turned her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley;
and the train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave
birth to, made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her in
idea settled in that very house, in all the felicity which a
marriage of true affection could bestow; and she felt capable, under
such circumstances, of endeavouring even to like Bingley's two
sisters. Her mother's thoughts she plainly saw were bent the same
way, and she determined not to venture near her, lest she might hear
too much. When they sat down to supper, therefore, she considered it
a most unlucky perverseness which placed them within one of each
other; and deeply was she vexed to find that her mother was talking
to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely, openly, and of nothing else
but her expectation that Jane would soon be married to Mr. Bingley.
It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable of
fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being
such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three miles
from them, were the first points of self-gratulation; and then it
was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane,
and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as
she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her
younger daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in
the way of other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her
time of life to be able to consign her single daughters to the care
of their sister, that she might not be obliged to go into company
more than she liked. It was necessary to make this circumstance a
matter of pleasure, because on such occasions it is the etiquette;
but no one was less likely than Mrs. Bennet to find comfort in
staying home at any period of her life. She concluded with many good
wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate, though
evidently and triumphantly believing there was no chance of it.
vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother's
words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible
whisper; for, to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that
the chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to
them. Her mother only scolded her for being nonsensical.
"What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am
sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say
nothing he may not like to hear."
"For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for
you to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his
friend by so doing!"
Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother
would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth
blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not
help frequently glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance
convinced her of what she dreaded; for though he was not always
looking at her mother, she was convinced that his attention was
invariably fixed by her. The expression of his face changed
gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity.
length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who
had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no
likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and
chicken. Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the
interval of tranquillity; for, when supper was over, singing was
talked of, and she had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very
little entreaty, preparing to oblige the company. By many
significant looks and silent entreaties, did she endeavour to
prevent such a proof of complaisance, but in vain; Mary would not
understand them; such an opportunity of exhibiting was delightful to
her, and she began her song. Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on her with
most painful sensations, and she watched her progress through the
several stanzas with an impatience which was very ill rewarded at
their close; for Mary, on receiving, amongst the thanks of the
table, the hint of a hope that she might be prevailed on to favour
them again, after the pause of half a minute began another. Mary's
powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice was
weak, and her manner affected. Elizabeth was in agonies. She looked
at Jane, to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly
talking to Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them
making signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued,
however, imperturbably grave. She looked at her father to entreat
his interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the
hint, and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, "That
will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough.
Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit."
Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and
Elizabeth, sorry for her, and sorry for her father's speech, was
afraid her anxiety had done no good. Others of the party were now
I," said Mr. Collins, "were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I
should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with
an air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and
perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman. I do not
mean, however, to assert that we can be justified in devoting too
much of our time to music, for there are certainly other things to
be attended to. The rector of a parish has much to do. In the first
place, he must make such an agreement for tithes as may be
beneficial to himself and not offensive to his patron. He must write
his own sermons; and the time that remains will not be too much for
his parish duties, and the care and improvement of his dwelling,
which he cannot be excused from making as comfortable as possible.
And I do not think it of light importance that he should have
attentive and conciliatory manners towards everybody, especially
towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit him of
that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit an
occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connected with
the family." And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech,
which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. Many
stared—many smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet
himself, while his wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having
spoken so sensibly, and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas,
that he was a remarkably clever, good kind of young man.
Elizabeth it appeared that, had her family made an agreement to
expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would
have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit
or finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her
sister that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that
his feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly
which he must have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy,
however, should have such an opportunity of ridiculing her
relations, was bad enough, and she could not determine whether the
silent contempt of the gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the
ladies, were more intolerable.
rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased by
Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and
though he could not prevail on her to dance with him again, put it
out of her power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him
to stand up with somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any
young lady in the room. He assured her, that as to dancing, he was
perfectly indifferent to it; that his chief object was by delicate
attentions to recommend himself to her and that he should therefore
make a point of remaining close to her the whole evening. There was
no arguing upon such a project. She owed her greatest relief to her
friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged
Mr. Collins's conversation to herself.
was at least free from the offense of Mr. Darcy's further notice;
though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite
disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be
the probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and
rejoiced in it.
Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by
a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter
of an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to
see how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs.
Hurst and her sister scarcely opened their mouths, except to
complain of fatigue, and were evidently impatient to have the house
to themselves. They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at
conversation, and by so doing threw a languor over the whole party,
which was very little relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Collins,
who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the elegance of
their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which had
marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said nothing at all.
Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. Mr. Bingley
and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the rest,
and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as steady a
silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too
much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of
"Lord, how tired I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn.
When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most
pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at
Longbourn, and addressed herself especially to Mr. Bingley, to
assure him how happy he would make them by eating a family dinner
with them at any time, without the ceremony of a formal invitation.
Bingley was all grateful pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking
the earliest opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from
London, whither he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.
Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house under the
delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations
of settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should
undoubtedly see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of
three or four months. Of having another daughter married to Mr.
Collins, she thought with equal certainty, and with considerable,
though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth was the least dear to her of
all her children; and though the man and the match were quite good
enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley
next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his
declaration in form. Having resolved to do it without loss of time,
as his leave of absence extended only to the following Saturday, and
having no feelings of diffidence to make it distressing to himself
even at the moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with
all the observances, which he supposed a regular part of the
business. On finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger
girls together, soon after breakfast, he addressed the mother in
"May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter
Elizabeth, when I solicit for the honour of a private audience with
her in the course of this morning?"
Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs.
Bennet answered instantly, "Oh dear!—yes—certainly. I am sure Lizzy
will be very happy—I am sure she can have no objection. Come, Kitty,
I want you up stairs." And, gathering her work together, she was
hastening away, when Elizabeth called out:
"Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must
excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not
hear. I am going away myself."
"No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you to stay where you are." And
upon Elizabeth's seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks,
about to escape, she added: "Lizzy, I insist upon your
staying and hearing Mr. Collins."
Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction—and a moment's
consideration making her also sensible that it would be wisest to
get it over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down again
and tried to conceal, by incessant employment the feelings which
were divided between distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty
walked off, and as soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began.
"Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from
doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You
would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been
this little unwillingness; but allow me to assure you, that I have
your respected mother's permission for this address. You can hardly
doubt the purport of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may
lead you to dissemble; my attentions have been too marked to be
mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out
as the companion of my future life. But before I am run away with by
my feelings on this subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to
state my reasons for marrying—and, moreover, for coming into
Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly
idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away
with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing, that she
could not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him
further, and he continued:
reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for
every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the
example of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced
that it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly—which
perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular
advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the
honour of calling patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me
her opinion (unasked too!) on this subject; and it was but the very
Saturday night before I left Hunsford—between our pools at
quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was arranging Miss de Bourgh's
footstool, that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman
like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my
sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of
person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a
good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can,
bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.' Allow me, by the way,
to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and
kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the
advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond
anything I can describe; and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be
acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and
respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my
general intention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why
my views were directed towards Longbourn instead of my own
neighbourhood, where I can assure you there are many amiable young
women. But the fact is, that being, as I am, to inherit this estate
after the death of your honoured father (who, however, may live many
years longer), I could not satisfy myself without resolving to
choose a wife from among his daughters, that the loss to them might
be as little as possible, when the melancholy event takes
place—which, however, as I have already said, may not be for several
years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter myself
it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing remains for me
but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of
my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make
no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well aware that
it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds in the
four per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother's
decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head,
therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself
that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are
was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.
"You are too hasty, sir," she cried. "You forget that I have made no
answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks
for the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the
honour of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do
otherwise than to decline them."
am not now to learn," replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the
hand, "that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of
the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for
their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second,
or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what
you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere
"Upon my word, sir," cried Elizabeth, "your hope is a rather
extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am
not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who
are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being
asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could
not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last
woman in the world who could make you so. Nay, were your friend Lady
Catherine to know me, I am persuaded she would find me in every
respect ill qualified for the situation."
"Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so," said Mr.
Collins very gravely—"but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would
at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain when I have the
honour of seeing her again, I shall speak in the very highest terms
of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualification."
"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must
give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of
believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by
refusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being
otherwise. In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the
delicacy of your feelings with regard to my family, and may take
possession of Longbourn estate whenever it falls, without any
self-reproach. This matter may be considered, therefore, as finally
settled." And rising as she thus spoke, she would have quitted the
room, had Mr. Collins not thus addressed her:
"When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on the subject,
I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now
given me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present,
because I know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject
a man on the first application, and perhaps you have even now said
as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true
delicacy of the female character."
"Really, Mr. Collins," cried Elizabeth with some warmth, "you puzzle
me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in
the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in
such a way as to convince you of its being one."
"You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your
refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for
believing it are briefly these: It does not appear to me that my
hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can
offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in
life, my connections with the family of de Bourgh, and my
relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and
you should take it into further consideration, that in spite of your
manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer
of marriage may ever be made you. Your portion is unhappily so small
that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness
and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you
are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall choose to attribute
it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the
usual practice of elegant females."
do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind
of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would
rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you
again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals,
but to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every
respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an
elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature,
speaking the truth from her heart."
"You are uniformly charming!" cried he, with an air of awkward
gallantry; "and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express
authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail
of being acceptable."
such perseverance in wilful self-deception Elizabeth would make no
reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, if he
persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering
encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative might be
uttered in such a manner as to be decisive, and whose behaviour at
least could not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an
Collins was not left long to the silent contemplation of his
successful love; for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the
vestibule to watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw
Elizabeth open the door and with quick step pass her towards the
staircase, than she entered the breakfast-room, and congratulated
both him and herself in warm terms on the happy prospect or their
nearer connection. Mr. Collins received and returned these
felicitations with equal pleasure, and then proceeded to relate the
particulars of their interview, with the result of which he trusted
he had every reason to be satisfied, since the refusal which his
cousin had steadfastly given him would naturally flow from her
bashful modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character.
This information, however, startled Mrs. Bennet; she would have been
glad to be equally satisfied that her daughter had meant to
encourage him by protesting against his proposals, but she dared not
believe it, and could not help saying so.
"But, depend upon it, Mr. Collins," she added, "that Lizzy shall be
brought to reason. I will speak to her about it directly. She is a
very headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her own interest
but I will make her know it."
"Pardon me for interrupting you, madam," cried Mr. Collins; "but if
she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would
altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who
naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If therefore
she actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better
not to force her into accepting me, because if liable to such
defects of temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity."
"Sir, you quite misunderstand me," said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. "Lizzy
is only headstrong in such matters as these. In everything else she
is as good-natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr.
Bennet, and we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure."
would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to her
husband, called out as she entered the library, "Oh! Mr. Bennet, you
are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar. You must come and
make Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows she will not have him,
and if you do not make haste he will change his mind and not have
Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fixed them
on her face with a calm unconcern which was not in the least altered
by her communication.
have not the pleasure of understanding you," said he, when she had
finished her speech. "Of what are you talking?"
Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declares she will not have Mr. Collins,
and Mr. Collins begins to say that he will not have Lizzy."
"And what am I to do on the occasion? It seems an hopeless
"Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her
"Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion."
Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth was summoned to the
"Come here, child," cried her father as she appeared. "I have sent
for you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins
has made you an offer of marriage. Is it true?" Elizabeth replied
that it was. "Very well—and this offer of marriage you have
"Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your
accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?"
"Yes, or I will never see her again."
unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must
be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you
again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see
you again if you do."
Elizabeth could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a
beginning, but Mrs. Bennet, who had persuaded herself that her
husband regarded the affair as she wished, was excessively
"What do you mean, Mr. Bennet, in talking this way? You promised me
to insist upon her marrying him."
dear," replied her husband, "I have two small favours to request.
First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on
the present occasion; and secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to
have the library to myself as soon as may be."
yet, however, in spite of her disappointment in her husband, did
Mrs. Bennet give up the point. She talked to Elizabeth again and
again; coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeavoured to secure
Jane in her interest; but Jane, with all possible mildness, declined
interfering; and Elizabeth, sometimes with real earnestness, and
sometimes with playful gaiety, replied to her attacks. Though her
manner varied, however, her determination never did.
Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed.
He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motives his
cousin could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered
in no other way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the
possibility of her deserving her mother's reproach prevented his
feeling any regret.
While the family were in this confusion, Charlotte Lucas came to
spend the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by Lydia, who,
flying to her, cried in a half whisper, "I am glad you are come, for
there is such fun here! What do you think has happened this morning?
Mr. Collins has made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not have him."
Charlotte hardly had time to answer, before they were joined by
Kitty, who came to tell the same news; and no sooner had they
entered the breakfast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she
likewise began on the subject, calling on Miss Lucas for her
compassion, and entreating her to persuade her friend Lizzy to
comply with the wishes of all her family. "Pray do, my dear Miss
Lucas," she added in a melancholy tone, "for nobody is on my side,
nobody takes part with me. I am cruelly used, nobody feels for my
Charlotte's reply was spared by the entrance of Jane and Elizabeth.
"Aye, there she comes," continued Mrs. Bennet, "looking as
unconcerned as may be, and caring no more for us than if we were at
York, provided she can have her own way. But I tell you, Miss
Lizzy—if you take it into your head to go on refusing every offer of
marriage in this way, you will never get a husband at all—and I am
sure I do not know who is to maintain you when your father is dead.
I shall not be able to keep you—and so I warn you. I have done with
you from this very day. I told you in the library, you know, that I
should never speak to you again, and you will find me as good as my
word. I have no pleasure in talking to undutiful children. Not that
I have much pleasure, indeed, in talking to anybody. People who
suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have no great inclination
for talking. Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is always so.
Those who do not complain are never pitied."
daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that any
attempt to reason with her or soothe her would only increase the
irritation. She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any
of them, till they were joined by Mr. Collins, who entered the room
with an air more stately than usual, and on perceiving whom, she
said to the girls, "Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you,
hold your tongues, and let me and Mr. Collins have a little
Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane and Kitty followed,
but Lydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and
Charlotte, detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins, whose
inquiries after herself and all her family were very minute, and
then by a little curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the
window and pretending not to hear. In a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet
began the projected conversation: "Oh! Mr. Collins!"
dear madam," replied he, "let us be for ever silent on this point.
Far be it from me," he presently continued, in a voice that marked
his displeasure, "to resent the behaviour of your daughter.
Resignation to inevitable evils is the duty of us all; the peculiar
duty of a young man who has been so fortunate as I have been in
early preferment; and I trust I am resigned. Perhaps not the less so
from feeling a doubt of my positive happiness had my fair cousin
honoured me with her hand; for I have often observed that
resignation is never so perfect as when the blessing denied begins
to lose somewhat of its value in our estimation. You will not, I
hope, consider me as showing any disrespect to your family, my dear
madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to your daughter's favour,
without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the compliment of
requesting you to interpose your authority in my behalf. My conduct
may, I fear, be objectionable in having accepted my dismission from
your daughter's lips instead of your own. But we are all liable to
error. I have certainly meant well through the whole affair. My
object has been to secure an amiable companion for myself, with due
consideration for the advantage of all your family, and if my
manner has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to
discussion of Mr. Collins's offer was now nearly at an end, and
Elizabeth had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings
necessarily attending it, and occasionally from some peevish
allusions of her mother. As for the gentleman himself, his
feelings were chiefly expressed, not by embarrassment or dejection,
or by trying to avoid her, but by stiffness of manner and resentful
silence. He scarcely ever spoke to her, and the assiduous attentions
which he had been so sensible of himself were transferred for the
rest of the day to Miss Lucas, whose civility in listening to him
was a seasonable relief to them all, and especially to her friend.
morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Bennet's ill-humour or ill
health. Mr. Collins was also in the same state of angry pride.
Elizabeth had hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but
his plan did not appear in the least affected by it. He was always
to have gone on Saturday, and to Saturday he meant to stay.
After breakfast, the girls walked to Meryton to inquire if Mr.
Wickham were returned, and to lament over his absence from the
Netherfield ball. He joined them on their entering the town, and
attended them to their aunt's where his regret and vexation, and the
concern of everybody, was well talked over. To Elizabeth, however,
he voluntarily acknowledged that the necessity of his absence had
found," said he, "as the time drew near that I had better not meet
Mr. Darcy; that to be in the same room, the same party with him for
so many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that
scenes might arise unpleasant to more than myself."
highly approved his forbearance, and they had leisure for a full
discussion of it, and for all the commendation which they civilly
bestowed on each other, as Wickham and another officer walked back
with them to Longbourn, and during the walk he particularly attended
to her. His accompanying them was a double advantage; she felt all
the compliment it offered to herself, and it was most acceptable as
an occasion of introducing him to her father and mother.
Soon after their return, a letter was delivered to Miss Bennet; it
came from Netherfield. The envelope contained a sheet of elegant,
little, hot-pressed paper, well covered with a lady's fair, flowing
hand; and Elizabeth saw her sister's countenance change as she read
it, and saw her dwelling intently on some particular passages. Jane
recollected herself soon, and putting the letter away, tried to join
with her usual cheerfulness in the general conversation; but
Elizabeth felt an anxiety on the subject which drew off her
attention even from Wickham; and no sooner had he and his companion
taken leave, than a glance from Jane invited her to follow her up
stairs. When they had gained their own room, Jane, taking out the
"This is from Caroline Bingley; what it contains has surprised me a
good deal. The whole party have left Netherfield by this time, and
are on their way to town—and without any intention of coming back
again. You shall hear what she says."
then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information
of their having just resolved to follow their brother to town
directly, and of their meaning to dine in Grosvenor Street, where
Mr. Hurst had a house. The next was in these words: "I do not
pretend to regret anything I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except
your society, my dearest friend; but we will hope, at some future
period, to enjoy many returns of that delightful intercourse we have
known, and in the meanwhile may lessen the pain of separation by a
very frequent and most unreserved correspondence. I depend on you
for that." To these highflown expressions Elizabeth listened with
all the insensibility of distrust; and though the suddenness of
their removal surprised her, she saw nothing in it really to lament;
it was not to be supposed that their absence from Netherfield would
prevent Mr. Bingley's being there; and as to the loss of their
society, she was persuaded that Jane must cease to regard it, in the
enjoyment of his.
is unlucky," said she, after a short pause, "that you should not be
able to see your friends before they leave the country. But may we
not hope that the period of future happiness to which Miss Bingley
looks forward may arrive earlier than she is aware, and that the
delightful intercourse you have known as friends will be renewed
with yet greater satisfaction as sisters? Mr. Bingley will not be
detained in London by them."
"Caroline decidedly says that none of the party will return into
Hertfordshire this winter. I will read it to you:"
"When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business
which took him to London might be concluded in three or four days;
but as we are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time
convinced that when Charles gets to town he will be in no hurry to
leave it again, we have determined on following him thither, that he
may not be obliged to spend his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel.
Many of my acquaintances are already there for the winter; I wish
that I could hear that you, my dearest friend, had any intention of
making one of the crowd—but of that I despair. I sincerely hope your
Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in the gaieties which that
season generally brings, and that your beaux will be so numerous as
to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of whom we shall
is evident by this," added Jane, "that he comes back no more this
is only evident that Miss Bingley does not mean that he should."
"Why will you think so? It must be his own doing. He is his own
master. But you do not know all. I will read you the
passage which particularly hurts me. I will have no reserves from
"Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister; and, to confess the
truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really
do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and
accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself
is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope
we dare entertain of her being hereafter our sister. I do not know
whether I ever before mentioned to you my feelings on this subject;
but I will not leave the country without confiding them, and I trust
you will not esteem them unreasonable. My brother admires her
greatly already; he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her
on the most intimate footing; her relations all wish the connection
as much as his own; and a sister's partiality is not misleading me,
I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman's
heart. With all these circumstances to favour an attachment, and
nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the
hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?"
"What do you think of this sentence, my dear Lizzy?" said
Jane as she finished it. "Is it not clear enough? Does it not
expressly declare that Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be
her sister; that she is perfectly convinced of her brother's
indifference; and that if she suspects the nature of my feelings for
him, she means (most kindly!) to put me on my guard? Can there be
any other opinion on the subject?"
"Yes, there can; for mine is totally different. Will you hear it?"
"You shall have it in a few words. Miss Bingley sees that her
brother is in love with you, and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She
follows him to town in hope of keeping him there, and tries to
persuade you that he does not care about you."
Jane shook her head.
"Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me. No one who has ever seen you
together can doubt his affection. Miss Bingley, I am sure, cannot.
She is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love
in Mr. Darcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding
clothes. But the case is this: We are not rich enough or grand
enough for them; and she is the more anxious to get Miss Darcy for
her brother, from the notion that when there has been one
intermarriage, she may have less trouble in achieving a second; in
which there is certainly some ingenuity, and I dare say it would
succeed, if Miss de Bourgh were out of the way. But, my dearest
Jane, you cannot seriously imagine that because Miss Bingley tells
you her brother greatly admires Miss Darcy, he is in the smallest
degree less sensible of your merit than when he took leave of
you on Tuesday, or that it will be in her power to persuade him
that, instead of being in love with you, he is very much in love
with her friend."
we thought alike of Miss Bingley," replied Jane, "your
representation of all this might make me quite easy. But I know the
foundation is unjust. Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving
anyone; and all that I can hope in this case is that she is
"That is right. You could not have started a more happy idea, since
you will not take comfort in mine. Believe her to be deceived, by
all means. You have now done your duty by her, and must fret no
"But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even supposing the best, in
accepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to
"You must decide for yourself," said Elizabeth; "and if, upon mature
deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging his two
sisters is more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife,
I advise you by all means to refuse him."
"How can you talk so?" said Jane, faintly smiling. "You must know
that though I should be exceedingly grieved at their disapprobation,
I could not hesitate."
did not think you would; and that being the case, I cannot consider
your situation with much compassion."
"But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never be
required. A thousand things may arise in six months!"
idea of his returning no more Elizabeth treated with the utmost
contempt. It appeared to her merely the suggestion of Caroline's
interested wishes, and she could not for a moment suppose that those
wishes, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young
man so totally independent of everyone.
represented to her sister as forcibly as possible what she felt on
the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect.
Jane's temper was not desponding, and she was gradually led to hope,
though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that
Bingley would return to Netherfield and answer every wish of her
They agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only hear of the departure of
the family, without being alarmed on the score of the gentleman's
conduct; but even this partial communication gave her a great deal
of concern, and she bewailed it as exceedingly unlucky that the
ladies should happen to go away just as they were all getting so
intimate together. After lamenting it, however, at some length, she
had the consolation that Mr. Bingley would be soon down again and
soon dining at Longbourn, and the conclusion of all was the
comfortable declaration, that though he had been invited only to a
family dinner, she would take care to have two full courses.
Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases and again during the
chief of the day was Miss Lucas so kind as to listen to Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth took an opportunity of thanking her. "It keeps him in good
humour," said she, "and I am more obliged to you than I can
express." Charlotte assured her friend of her satisfaction in being
useful, and that it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her
time. This was very amiable, but Charlotte's kindness extended
farther than Elizabeth had any conception of; its object was nothing
else than to secure her from any return of Mr. Collins's addresses,
by engaging them towards herself. Such was Miss Lucas's scheme; and
appearances were so favourable, that when they parted at night, she
would have felt almost secure of success if he had not been to leave
Hertfordshire so very soon. But here she did injustice to the fire
and independence of his character, for it led him to escape out of
Longbourn House the next morning with admirable slyness, and hasten
to Lucas Lodge to throw himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid
the notice of his cousins, from a conviction that if they saw him
depart, they could not fail to conjecture his design, and he was not
willing to have the attempt known till its success might be known
likewise; for though feeling almost secure, and with reason, for
Charlotte had been tolerably encouraging, he was comparatively
diffident since the adventure of Wednesday. His reception, however,
was of the most flattering kind. Miss Lucas perceived him from an
upper window as he walked towards the house, and instantly set out
to meet him accidentally in the lane. But little had she dared to
hope that so much love and eloquence awaited her there.
as short a time as Mr. Collins's long speeches would allow,
everything was settled between them to the satisfaction of both; and
as they entered the house he earnestly entreated her to name the day
that was to make him the happiest of men; and though such a
solicitation must be waived for the present, the lady felt no
inclination to trifle with his happiness. The stupidity with which
he was favoured by nature must guard his courtship from any charm
that could make a woman wish for its continuance; and Miss Lucas,
who accepted him solely from the pure and disinterested desire of an
establishment, cared not how soon that establishment were gained.
William and Lady Lucas were speedily applied to for their consent;
and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Collins's
present circumstances made it a most eligible match for their
daughter, to whom they could give little fortune; and his prospects
of future wealth were exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began directly to
calculate, with more interest than the matter had ever excited
before, how many years longer Mr. Bennet was likely to live; and Sir
William gave it as his decided opinion, that whenever Mr. Collins
should be in possession of the Longbourn estate, it would be highly
expedient that both he and his wife should make their appearance at
St. James's. The whole family, in short, were properly overjoyed on
the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes of coming out a
year or two sooner than they might otherwise have done; and the boys
were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte's dying an old
maid. Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had gained her
point, and had time to consider of it. Her reflections were in
general satisfactory. Mr. Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible
nor agreeable; his society was irksome, and his attachment to her
must be imaginary. But still he would be her husband. Without
thinking highly either of men or matrimony, marriage had always been
her object; it was the only provision for well-educated young women
of small fortune, and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be
their pleasantest preservative from want. This preservative she had
now obtained; and at the age of twenty-seven, without having ever
been handsome, she felt all the good luck of it. The least agreeable
circumstance in the business was the surprise it must occasion to
Elizabeth Bennet, whose friendship she valued beyond that of any
other person. Elizabeth would wonder, and probably would blame her;
and though her resolution was not to be shaken, her feelings must be
hurt by such a disapprobation. She resolved to give her the
information herself, and therefore charged Mr. Collins, when he
returned to Longbourn to dinner, to drop no hint of what had passed
before any of the family. A promise of secrecy was of course very
dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for
the curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in such very
direct questions on his return as required some ingenuity to evade,
and he was at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was
longing to publish his prosperous love.
he was to begin his journey too early on the morrow to see any of
the family, the ceremony of leave-taking was performed when the
ladies moved for the night; and Mrs. Bennet, with great politeness
and cordiality, said how happy they should be to see him at
Longbourn again, whenever his engagements might allow him to visit
dear madam," he replied, "this invitation is particularly
gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive; and
you may be very certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as
They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by no means wish
for so speedy a return, immediately said:
"But is there not danger of Lady Catherine's disapprobation here, my
good sir? You had better neglect your relations than run the risk of
offending your patroness."
dear sir," replied Mr. Collins, "I am particularly obliged to you
for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so
material a step without her ladyship's concurrence."
"You cannot be too much upon your guard. Risk anything rather than
her displeasure; and if you find it likely to be raised by your
coming to us again, which I should think exceedingly probable, stay
quietly at home, and be satisfied that we shall take no
"Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly excited by such
affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will speedily
receive from me a letter of thanks for this, and for every other
mark of your regard during my stay in Hertfordshire. As for my fair
cousins, though my absence may not be long enough to render it
necessary, I shall now take the liberty of wishing them health and
happiness, not excepting my cousin Elizabeth."
With proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them equally
surprised that he meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished to
understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of
her younger girls, and Mary might have been prevailed on to accept
him. She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others;
there was a solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and
though by no means so clever as herself, she thought that if
encouraged to read and improve himself by such an example as hers,
he might become a very agreeable companion. But on the following
morning, every hope of this kind was done away. Miss Lucas called
soon after breakfast, and in a private conference with Elizabeth
related the event of the day before.
possibility of Mr. Collins's fancying himself in love with her
friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day or two;
but that Charlotte could encourage him seemed almost as far from
possibility as she could encourage him herself, and her astonishment
was consequently so great as to overcome at first the bounds of
decorum, and she could not help crying out:
"Engaged to Mr. Collins! My dear Charlotte—impossible!"
steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in telling her
story, gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct
a reproach; though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon
regained her composure, and calmly replied:
"Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza? Do you think it
incredible that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman's
good opinion, because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?"
Elizabeth had now recollected herself, and making a strong effort
for it, was able to assure with tolerable firmness that the prospect
of their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she
wished her all imaginable happiness.
see what you are feeling," replied Charlotte. "You must be
surprised, very much surprised—so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing
to marry you. But when you have had time to think it over, I hope
you will be satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you
know; I never was. I ask only a comfortable home; and considering
Mr. Collins's character, connection, and situation in life, I am
convinced that my chance of happiness with him is as fair as most
people can boast on entering the marriage state."
Elizabeth quietly answered "Undoubtedly;" and after an awkward
pause, they returned to the rest of the family. Charlotte did not
stay much longer, and Elizabeth was then left to reflect on what she
had heard. It was a long time before she became at all reconciled to
the idea of so unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins's
making two offers of marriage within three days was nothing in
comparison of his being now accepted. She had always felt that
Charlotte's opinion of matrimony was not exactly like her own, but
she had not supposed it to be possible that, when called into
action, she would have sacrificed every better feeling to worldly
advantage. Charlotte the wife of Mr. Collins was a most humiliating
picture! And to the pang of a friend disgracing herself and sunk in
her esteem, was added the distressing conviction that it was
impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot she had
Elizabeth was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflecting on
what she had heard, and doubting whether she was authorised to
mention it, when Sir William Lucas himself appeared, sent by his
daughter, to announce her engagement to the family. With many
compliments to them, and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a
connection between the houses, he unfolded the matter—to an audience
not merely wondering, but incredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more
perseverance than politeness, protested he must be entirely
mistaken; and Lydia, always unguarded and often uncivil,
"Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell such a story? Do not you
know that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?"
Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne
without anger such treatment; but Sir William's good breeding
carried him through it all; and though he begged leave to be
positive as to the truth of his information, he listened to all
their impertinence with the most forbearing courtesy.
Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so
unpleasant a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his
account, by mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte
herself; and endeavoured to put a stop to the exclamations of her
mother and sisters by the earnestness of her congratulations to Sir
William, in which she was readily joined by Jane, and by making a
variety of remarks on the happiness that might be expected from the
match, the excellent character of Mr. Collins, and the convenient
distance of Hunsford from London.
Mrs. Bennet was in fact too much overpowered to say a great deal
while Sir William remained; but no sooner had he left them than her
feelings found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted in
disbelieving the whole of the matter; secondly, she was very sure
that Mr. Collins had been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they
would never be happy together; and fourthly, that the match might be
broken off. Two inferences, however, were plainly deduced from the
whole: one, that Elizabeth was the real cause of the mischief; and
the other that she herself had been barbarously misused by them all;
and on these two points she principally dwelt during the rest of the
day. Nothing could console and nothing could appease her. Nor did
that day wear out her resentment. A week elapsed before she could
see Elizabeth without scolding her, a month passed away before she
could speak to Sir William or Lady Lucas without being rude, and
many months were gone before she could at all forgive their
Bennet's emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and such
as he did experience he pronounced to be of a most agreeable sort;
for it gratified him, he said, to discover that Charlotte Lucas,
whom he had been used to think tolerably sensible, was as foolish as
his wife, and more foolish than his daughter!
Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said
less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their
happiness; nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider it as
improbable. Kitty and Lydia were far from envying Miss Lucas, for
Mr. Collins was only a clergyman; and it affected them in no other
way than as a piece of news to spread at Meryton.
Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to
retort on Mrs. Bennet the comfort of having a daughter well married;
and she called at Longbourn rather oftener than usual to say how
happy she was, though Mrs. Bennet's sour looks and ill-natured
remarks might have been enough to drive happiness away.
Between Elizabeth and Charlotte there was a restraint which kept
them mutually silent on the subject; and Elizabeth felt persuaded
that no real confidence could ever subsist between them again. Her
disappointment in Charlotte made her turn with fonder regard to her
sister, of whose rectitude and delicacy she was sure her opinion
could never be shaken, and for whose happiness she grew daily more
anxious, as Bingley had now been gone a week and nothing more was
heard of his return.
Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her letter, and was
counting the days till she might reasonably hope to hear again. The
promised letter of thanks from Mr. Collins arrived on Tuesday,
addressed to their father, and written with all the solemnity of
gratitude which a twelvemonth's abode in the family might have
prompted. After discharging his conscience on that head, he
proceeded to inform them, with many rapturous expressions, of his
happiness in having obtained the affection of their amiable
neighbour, Miss Lucas, and then explained that it was merely with
the view of enjoying her society that he had been so ready to close
with their kind wish of seeing him again at Longbourn, whither he
hoped to be able to return on Monday fortnight; for Lady Catherine,
he added, so heartily approved his marriage, that she wished it to
take place as soon as possible, which he trusted would be an
unanswerable argument with his amiable Charlotte to name an early
day for making him the happiest of men.
Collins's return into Hertfordshire was no longer a matter of
pleasure to Mrs. Bennet. On the contrary, she was as much disposed
to complain of it as her husband. It was very strange that he should
come to Longbourn instead of to Lucas Lodge; it was also very
inconvenient and exceedingly troublesome. She hated having visitors
in the house while her health was so indifferent, and lovers were of
all people the most disagreeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of
Mrs. Bennet, and they gave way only to the greater distress of Mr.
Bingley's continued absence.
Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were comfortable on this subject. Day
after day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than
the report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more
to Netherfield the whole winter; a report which highly incensed Mrs.
Bennet, and which she never failed to contradict as a most
Even Elizabeth began to fear—not that Bingley was indifferent—but
that his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling
as she was to admit an idea so destructive of Jane's happiness, and
so dishonorable to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent
its frequently occurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling
sisters and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions
of Miss Darcy and the amusements of London might be too much, she
feared, for the strength of his attachment.
for Jane, her anxiety under this suspense was, of course,
more painful than Elizabeth's, but whatever she felt she was
desirous of concealing, and between herself and Elizabeth,
therefore, the subject was never alluded to. But as no such delicacy
restrained her mother, an hour seldom passed in which she did not
talk of Bingley, express her impatience for his arrival, or even
require Jane to confess that if he did not come back she would think
herself very ill used. It needed all Jane's steady mildness to bear
these attacks with tolerable tranquillity.
Collins returned most punctually on Monday fortnight, but his
reception at Longbourn was not quite so gracious as it had been on
his first introduction. He was too happy, however, to need much
attention; and luckily for the others, the business of love-making
relieved them from a great deal of his company. The chief of every
day was spent by him at Lucas Lodge, and he sometimes returned to
Longbourn only in time to make an apology for his absence before the
family went to bed.
Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. The very mention of
anything concerning the match threw her into an agony of ill-humour,
and wherever she went she was sure of hearing it talked of. The
sight of Miss Lucas was odious to her. As her successor in that
house, she regarded her with jealous abhorrence. Whenever Charlotte
came to see them, she concluded her to be anticipating the hour of
possession; and whenever she spoke in a low voice to Mr. Collins,
was convinced that they were talking of the Longbourn estate, and
resolving to turn herself and her daughters out of the house, as
soon as Mr. Bennet were dead. She complained bitterly of all this to
"Indeed, Mr. Bennet," said she, "it is very hard to think that
Charlotte Lucas should ever be mistress of this house, that I should
be forced to make way for her, and live to see her take her
place in it!"
dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for
better things. Let us flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor."
This was not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet, and therefore, instead
of making any answer, she went on as before.
cannot bear to think that they should have all this estate. If it
was not for the entail, I should not mind it."
"What should not you mind?"
should not mind anything at all."
"Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such
never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for anything about the entail.
How anyone could have the conscience to entail away an estate from
one's own daughters, I cannot understand; and all for the sake of
Mr. Collins too! Why should he have it more than anybody
leave it to yourself to determine," said Mr. Bennet.