Chapter 4 hen Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former,
who had been cautious in her praise
of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister
how very much she admired him.
“He 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!”
“He is also handsome,” replied Elizabeth, “which a
young man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can. His
character is thereby complete.”
“I 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 women 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.”
“Dear Lizzy!”
“Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like
people in general. You never see a fault in any body. All the
world are good and agreeable in your eyes. I never heard
you speak ill of a human being in my life.”
“I would wish not to be hasty in censuring any one; but
I always speak what I think.”
“I know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder.
With your good sense, to be honestly blind to the follies
and nonsense of others! Affectation of candour is common
enough; — one meets it every where. But to be candid without
ostentation or design — to take the good of every body’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 his.”
“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 judgment,
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 being agreeable where 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.
Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly
an 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.
His sisters were very anxious for his having an estate
of his own; but though he was now established only 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 a great opposition of character. — Bingley
was endeared to Darcy by the easiness, openness, 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 judgment 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 offence.
The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly
was sufficiently characteristic. Bingley had never met
with pleasanter people or prettier girls in his life; every body
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 should not object to know
more of. Miss Bennet was therefore established as a sweet
girl, and their brother felt authorised by such commendation
to think of her as he chose.
Chapter 5 ithin 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 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
every body. 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. “You began the evening well, Charlotte,” said Mrs.
Bennet with civil self-command to Miss Lucas. “You were
Mr. Bingley’s first choice.” “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 was very decided indeed—
that does seem as if — but, however, it may all come to nothing,
you know.” “My 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.” “I 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 lips.” “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 very angry at being spoke to.”
“Miss Bingley told me,” said Jane, “that he never speaks
much unless among his intimate acquaintance. With them
he is remarkably agreeable.” “I 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; every body says that he is ate 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.” “I 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.” “I believe, Ma’am, I may safely promise you never to
dance with him.” “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, every thing 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 synonimously. 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 us.” “If 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 every 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 bottle directly.”
The boy protested that she should not; she continued to
declare that she would, and the argument ended only with
the visit.
Chapter 6 he ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit was returned in due form. Miss Bennet’s pleasing manners grew on the good
will of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was found to be intolerable and the younger sisters
not worth speaking to, a wish of being better acquainted with them was expressed towards the two eldest. By Jane
this attention was received with the greatest pleasure; but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment of every
body, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not
like them; though their kindness to Jane, such as it was, had
a value, as arising in all probability from the influence of
their brother’s admiration. It was generally evident whenever
they met, that he did admire her; and to her it was equally
evident that Jane was yielding to the preference which she
had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a
way to be very much in love; but she considered with pleasure
that it was not likely to be discovered by the world in
general, since Jane united with great strength of feeling a
composure of temper and a uniform cheerfulness of manner,
which would guard her from the suspicions of the impertinent.
She mentioned this to her friend Miss Lucas. “It may perhaps be pleasant,” replied Charlotte, “to be able to impose on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes
a disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost
every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely — a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better shew more affection than she feels.
Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on.” “But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If I can perceive her regard for him, he must be a
simpleton indeed not to discover it too.” “Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane’s disposition as you do.”
“But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal it, he must find it out.” “Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But though Bingley and Jane meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and as they always see each other in large
mixed parties, it is impossible that every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should therefore
make the most of every half hour in which she can command
his attention. When she is secure of him, there will be
leisure for falling in love as much as she chuses.” “Your plan is a good one,” replied Elizabeth, “where
nothing is in question but the desire of being well married;
and if I were determined to get a rich husband, or
any husband, I dare say I should adopt it. But these are not
Jane’s feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet, she cannot
even be certain of the degree of her own regard, nor of
its reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She
danced four dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one
morning at his own house, and has since dined in company
with him four times. This is not quite enough to make her
understand his character.” “Not as you represent it. Had she merely dined with
him, she might only have discovered whether he had a good
appetite; but you must remember that four evenings have
been also spent together — and four evenings may do a great
deal.” “Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain
that they both like Vingt-un better than Commerce; but
with respect to any other leading characteristic, I do not
imagine that much has been unfolded.” “Well,” said Charlotte, “I wish Jane success with all my
heart; and if she were married to him to-morrow, I should
think she had as good a chance of happiness as if she were
to be studying his character for a twelvemonth. Happiness
in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions
of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever
so similar before-hand, it does not advance their felicity in
the least. They always contrive to grow sufficiently unlike
afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to
know as little as possible of the defects of the person with
whom you are to pass your life.” “You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You
know it is not sound, and that you would never act in this
way yourself.” Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley’s attentions to her
sister, Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she was herself
becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend.
Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he
had looked at her without admiration at the ball; and when
they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no
sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that
she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to
find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful
expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded
some others equally mortifying. Though he had detected
with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry
in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to
be light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her
manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was
caught by their easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly
unaware;—to her he was only the man who made himself
agreeable no where, and who had not thought her handsome
enough to dance with. He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step
towards conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation
with others. His doing so drew her notice. It was
at Sir William Lucas’s, where a large party were assembled. “What does Mr. Darcy mean,” said she to Charlotte, “by
listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?” “That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer.”
“But if he does it any more, I shall certainly let him
know that I see what he is about. He has a very satirical eye,
and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall
soon grow afraid of him.” On his approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming to have any intention of speaking, Miss
Lucas defied her friend to mention such a subject to him, which immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she turned to him and said,
“Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teazing Colonel
Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?”
“With great energy;—but it is a subject which always
makes a lady energetic.”
“You are severe on us.” “It will be her turn soon to be teazed,” said Miss Lucas. “I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know
what follows.” “You are a very strange creature by way of a friend! — always
wanting me to play and sing before any body and every
body! — If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would
have been invaluable, but as it is, I would really rather not sit
down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the
very best performers.” On Miss Lucas’s persevering, however,
she added, “Very well; if it must be so, it must.” And
gravely glancing at Mr. Darcy, “There is a fine old saying,
which every body here is of course familiar with — ”Keep
your breath to cool your porridge,’’ — and I shall keep mine
to swell my song.”
Her performance was pleasing, though by no means
capital. After a song or two, and before she could reply to
the entreaties of several that she would sing again, she was
eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her sister Mary, who
having, in consequence of being the only plain one in the
family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments,
was always impatient for display.
Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a
pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who, with some of the Lucases and two or three officers, joined eagerly in dancing at one end
of the room. Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such
a mode of passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation,
and was too much engrossed by his own thoughts
to perceive that Sir William Lucas was his neighbour, till
Sir William thus began.
“What a charming amusement for young people this
is, Mr. Darcy! — There is nothing like dancing after all.— I
consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies.”
“Certainly, Sir;— and it has the advantage also of being
in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world.—
Every savage can dance.”
Sir William only smiled. “Your friend performs delightfully;”
he continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley
join the group; —”and I doubt not that you are an adept in
the science yourself, Mr. Darcy.”
“You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, Sir.”
“Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure
from the sight. Do you often dance at St. James’s?”
“Never, sir.”
“Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to
the place?”
“It is a compliment which I never pay to any place, if I
can avoid it.”
“You have a house in town, I conclude?”
Mr. Darcy bowed.
“I had once some thoughts of fixing in town myself — for
I am fond of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain
that the air of London would agree with Lady Lucas.”
He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion
was not disposed to make any; and Elizabeth at that instant
moving towards them, he was struck with the notion of doing
a very gallant thing, and called out to her,
“My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing?— Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner.— You cannot refuse to dance, I
am sure, when so much beauty is before you.” And taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy, who, though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William,
“Indeed, Sir, I have not the least intention of dancing.— I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.”
Mr. Darcy with grave propriety requested to be allowed
the honour of her hand; but in vain. Elizabeth was determined;
nor did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his
attempt at persuasion.
“You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is
cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though
this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can
have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half
hour.”
“Mr. Darcy is all politeness,” said Elizabeth, smiling.
“He is indeed — but considering the inducement, my
dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance; for
who would object to such a partner?”
Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance
had not injured her with the gentleman, and he was
thinking of her with some complacency, when thus accosted
by Miss Bingley.
“I can guess the subject of your reverie.”
“I should imagine not.”
“You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner — in such society; and
indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity and yet the noise; the nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people!—What would I give to hear your strictures on them!”
“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind
was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the
very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a
pretty woman can bestow.”
Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity,
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley. “I am
all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite? — and pray when am I to wish you joy?”
“That is exactly the question which I expected you to
ask. A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration
to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I
knew you would be wishing me joy.”
“Nay, if you are so serious about it, I shall consider
the matter as absolutely settled. You will have a charming
mother-in-law, indeed, and of course she will be always at
Pemberley with you.”
He listened to her with perfect indifference while she
chose to entertain herself in this manner, and as his composure
convinced her that all was safe, her wit flowed long
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