Elizabeth Bennet

by Eliza Gordon

  Elizabeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down again to her work, with an eagerness which it did not command. She had ventured only one glance at Darcy. He looked serious, as usual, more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, than as she had seen him at Pemberley.

  Perhaps he could not in her mother's presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was a painful, but not an improbable, conjecture.

  Bingley, she had likewise seen for an instant, and in that short period saw him looking both pleased and embarrassed. He was received by Mrs. Bennet with a degree of civility which made her two daughters ashamed, especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of her curtsey and address to his friend.

  Knowing her mother owed Darcy for the preservation of her favourite daughter from irremediable infamy, Elizabeth was hurt. She felt distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill applied.

  After inquiring after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, a question Elizabeth could not answer without confusion, Darcy said scarcely anything. He was not seated by her; perhaps that was the reason for his silence; but it had not been so in Derbyshire. There he had spoken to her friends when he could not talk to herself.

  Several minutes elapsed without bringing the sound of Darcy's voice. When, unable to resist the impulse of curiosity, Elizabeth raised her eyes to his face, she found him looking at Jane, at herself, and on no object but the ground. More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please, than when they last met, were plainly expressed. She was disappointed and angry with herself for being so.

  She wondered why he came.

  She was in no humour for conversation with anyone but himself, and to him, she had hardly courage to speak. She inquired after his sister but could do no more.

  "It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away," said Mrs. Bennet.

  He readily agreed to it.

  I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People did say you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighbourhood since you went away. Miss Lucas is married and settled. And one of my daughters. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have seen it in the papers. It was in The Times and The Courier, I know; though it was not put in as it ought to be. It was only said, 'Lately, George Wickham, Esq. to Miss Lydia Bennet,' without there being a syllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or anything. It was my brother Gardiner's drawing up too, and I wonder how he came to make such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?"

  Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Elizabeth dared not lift up her eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could not tell.

  "It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married. At the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very hard to have her taken such a way from me. They are gone down to Newcastle, a place quite northward, it seems, and there they are to stay I do not know how long. His regiment is there. Thank Heaven! he has some friends, though perhaps not so many as he deserves."

  Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such misery of shame, that she could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually done before. She asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay in the country at present.

  A few weeks, he believed.

  "When you have killed all your birds, Mr. Bingley, I beg you will come here, and shoot as many as you please on Mr. Bennet's manor," said her mother. "I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige and will save all the best of the covies for you."

  Elizabeth's misery increased, at such unnecessary, such officious attention! Were the same fair prospect to arise at present as had flattered them a year ago, every thing, she was persuaded, would be hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant, she felt that years of happiness could not make Jane or herself amends for moments of such painful confusion.

  When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of her intended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at Longbourn soon.

  "You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley, for when you went to town last winter, you promised to take a family dinner with us, as soon as you returned. I have not forgotten, you see. I assure you, I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep your engagement."

  Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection and said something of his concern at having been prevented by business. They then went away.

  Chapter 51

  As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth walked out to recover her spirits. In other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects that must deaden them more.

  Mr. Darcy's behaviour astonished and vexed her.

  Jane followed her. "Now, that this first meeting is over, I feel easy. I know my strength, and I will never be embarrassed again by his coming. I am glad he dines here on Tuesday. It will then be publicly seen that, on both sides, we meet only as indifferent acquaintance."

  "Oh, Jane, take care. Yes, very indifferent indeed," said Elizabeth, laughingly.

  "My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak, as to be in danger now?"

  "I think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love with you as ever."

  They did not see the gentlemen again until Tuesday.

  Mrs. Bennet, in the meanwhile, was giving way to all the happy schemes, which the good humour and common politeness of Bingley, in half an hour's visit, had revived.

  On Tuesday there was a large party assembled at Longbourn.

  The two gentlemen who were most anxiously expected, to the credit of their punctuality as sportsmen, were in very good time. When they repaired to the dining-room, Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take the place next to her sister, which, in all their former parties, had belonged to him. Her prudent mother, occupied by the same ideas, forbore to invite him to sit by herself.

  On entering the room, he seemed to hesitate; but Jane happened to look round, and happened to smile. He placed himself by her.

  Elizabeth, with a triumphant sensation, looked towards his friend.

  Darcy bore it with noble indifference. Elizabeth would have imagined that Bingley had received his sanction to be happy, had she not seen his eyes likewise turned towards Mr. Darcy, with an expression of half-laughing alarm.

  During dinner time, Bingley's behaviour toward Jane showed an admiration of her such that if left wholly to himself, Jane's happiness, and his own, would be speedily secured.

  Mr. Darcy was almost as far from Elizabeth as the table could divide them. He was on one side of her mother. She knew how little such a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear to advantage.

  Not near enough to hear any of their discourse, Elizabeth could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal and cold their manner whenever they did.

  Mrs. Bennet's ungraciousness made the sense of what they owed him more painful to Elizabeth's mind. At times, she would have given anything to be privileged to tell him that his kindness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole of the family.

  She remained hopeful that the evening would afford some opportunity of bringing them together. Enabling them to enter into something more of conversation than the mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance.

  Anxious and uneasy, the period which passed in the drawing-room, before the gentlemen came, was wearisome and dull to the degree that almost made her uncivil. She looked forward to their entrance as the point on which all her chance of pleasure for the evening must depend.

  The gentlemen came. She thought he looked as if he would have answered her hopes. Alas, the ladies had crowded round the table, where Jane was making tea, and Elizabeth pouring out the coffee. In so close a confederacy there was not a single vacancy near her which would admit of a chair. And on the gentlemen's approaching, one of the girls moved closer to her than
ever. "The men shall not come and part us, I am determined. We want none of them; do we?"

  Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with her eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough to help anybody to coffee. Then was enraged at herself for being so silly.

  A man who has once been refused! How could she ever be foolish enough to expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex, who would not protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman? There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings!

  She was a little revived by his bringing back his coffee cup himself. She seized the opportunity of saying, "Is your sister at Pemberley still?"

  "Yes, she will remain there till Christmas."

  "And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?"

  "Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have been gone on to Scarborough, these three weeks."

  She could think of nothing more to say; but if he wished to converse with her, he might have better success. He stood by her for some minutes, in silence. At last, on the young lady's whispering to Elizabeth again, he walked away.

  When the tea-things were removed, and the card-tables placed, the ladies all rose. Elizabeth was then hoping to be soon joined by him. All her hopes were overthrown when she saw him fall victim to her mother's rapacity for whist players. They were confined for the evening at different tables. She had nothing to hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her side of the room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself.

  Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the two Netherfield gentlemen to supper. But their carriage was ordered before any of the others, and she had no opportunity of detaining them.

  "Well girls," said she, as soon as they were left to themselves, "What say you to the day? I think every thing has passed off well, I assure you. The dinner was as well dressed as any I ever saw. The venison was roasted to a turn—and everybody said they never saw so fat a haunch. The soup was fifty times better than what we had at the Lucases' last week. Even Mr. Darcy acknowledged that the partridges were remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three French cooks at least. And, my dear Jane, I never saw you look in greater beauty. Mrs. Long said so too, for I asked her whether you did not. And what do you think she said besides? 'Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have her at Netherfield at last.' She did indeed. I do think Mrs. Long is as good a creature as ever lived. Her nieces are very pretty behaved girls, and not at all handsome. I like them prodigiously."

  In short, Mrs. Bennet was in very great spirits. She had seen enough of Bingley's behaviour to Jane, to be convinced that she would get him at last. Her expectations of advantage to her family, when in a happy humour, were so far beyond reason, that she was quite disappointed at not seeing him there again the next day, to make his proposals.

  "It has been a very agreeable day," said Jane to Elizabeth. "The party seemed so well selected, so suitable one with the other. I hope we may often meet again."

  Elizabeth smiled.

  "Lizzy, you must not do so. You must not suspect me. It mortifies me. I assure you that I have now learnt to enjoy his conversation with an agreeable and sensible young man, without having a wish beyond it. I am perfectly satisfied, from what his manners now are, that he never had any design of engaging my affection. It is only that he is blessed with greater sweetness of address, and a stronger desire of generally pleasing, than any other man."

  "You are very cruel," said her sister, "you will not let me smile, and are provoking me to it every moment."

  "How hard it is in some cases to be believed!"

  "And how impossible in others!"

  "But why should you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I acknowledge?"

  "That is a question which I hardly know how to answer. We all love to instruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing. Forgive me; and if you persist in indifference, do not make me your confidante."

  Chapter 52

  A few days after this visit, Mr. Bingley called again, and alone. His friend had left him that morning for London but was to return home in ten days time.

  Mr. Bingley sat with them above an hour, and was in remarkably good spirits. Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine with them.

  With many expressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged elsewhere.

  "Next time you call, I hope we shall be luckier."

  He replied that he should be particularly happy at any time, would take an early opportunity of waiting on them.

  "Can you come tomorrow?"

  Yes, he had no engagement at all for tomorrow. Her invitation was accepted with alacrity.

  He came, and in such very good time that the ladies were none of them dressed.

  In ran Mrs. Bennet to her daughter's room, in her dressing gown, and with her hair half finished. "My dear Jane, make haste and hurry down. He is come—Mr. Bingley is come. He is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. Here, Sarah, come to Miss Bennet this moment, and help her on with her gown. Never mind Miss Lizzy's hair."

  "We will be down as soon as we can," said Jane. "I dare say Kitty is forwarder than either of us, for she went up stairs half an hour ago."

  "Oh! Hang Kitty! What has she to do with it? Be quick, be quick! Where is your sash, my dear?"

  But when her mother was gone, Jane would not be prevailed on to go down without one of her sisters.

  The same anxiety to get them by themselves was visible again in the evening. After tea, Mr. Bennet retired to the library, as was his custom, and Mary went up stairs to her instrument. Two obstacles of the five being thus removed, Mrs. Bennet sat looking and winking at Elizabeth and Catherine for a considerable time, without making any impression on them. Elizabeth would not observe her. When at last Kitty did, she very innocently said, "What is the matter, mamma? What do you keep winking at me for? What am I to do?"

  "Nothing child, nothing. I did not wink at you." She then sat still five minutes longer. Unable to waste such a precious occasion, she suddenly got up, and saying to Kitty, "Come here, my love, I want to speak to you," took her out of the room. Jane instantly gave a look at Elizabeth which spoke her distress at such premeditation, and her entreaty that she would not give in to it.

  In a few minutes, Mrs. Bennet half-opened the door and called out, "Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you."

  Elizabeth was forced to go.

  "We may as well leave them by themselves you know;" said her mother, as soon as she was in the hall. "Kitty and I are going up stairs to sit in my dressing-room."

  Elizabeth made no attempt to reason with her mother, but remained quietly in the hall, till she and Kitty were out of sight, then returned to the drawing-room.

  Mrs. Bennet's schemes for this day were ineffectual. Bingley was every thing that was charming, except the professed lover of her daughter. His ease and cheerfulness rendered him a most agreeable addition to their evening party. He bore with the ill-judged officiousness of the mother and heard all her silly remarks with tolerance and good nature.

  He scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper. Before he went away, an engagement was formed for his coming next morning to shoot with Mr. Bennet.

  After this day, Jane said no more of her indifference.

  Not a word passed between the sisters concerning Bingley. Elizabeth went to bed happy in the belief that all must speedily be concluded unless Mr. Darcy returned within the stated time. Seriously, she felt persuaded that all this must have taken place with that gentleman's concurrence.

  Bingley was punctual to his appointment. He and Mr. Bennet spent the morning together, as had been agreed on.

  Bingley, of course, returned to dinner. In the evening Mrs. Bennet's invention was again at work to get every body away from him and her daughter.

  Elizabeth had a letter to write; she went into the breakfast room for that purpose soon after tea. The others were all going to sit down to cards. On returning to the drawing-room, when her letter was finished, she
saw, to her infinite surprise, there was reason to fear that her mother had been too ingenious.

  On opening the door, she perceived her sister and Bingley standing together over the hearth, as if engaged in earnest conversation. Had this led to no suspicion, the faces of both, as they hastily turned round and moved away from each other, would have told it all. Their situation was awkward enough, but hers she thought was still worse. Not a syllable was uttered by either and they both sat down. Elizabeth was on the point of going away again, when Bingley suddenly rose, and whispering a few words to her sister, ran out of the room.

  Jane could have no reserves from Elizabeth, where confidence would give pleasure. Instantly embracing her, she acknowledged, with the liveliest emotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world.

  "'Tis too much!" Jane added, "by far too much. I do not deserve it. Oh! Why is not everybody as happy?"

  Elizabeth's congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth, a delight, which words could but poorly express.

  "I must go instantly to my mother," she cried. "I would not on any account trifle with her affectionate solicitude. Or allow her to hear it from anyone but myself. He is gone to my father already. Oh! Lizzy, to know that what I have to relate will give such pleasure to all my dear family! how shall I bear so much happiness!"

  She then hastened away to her mother, who had purposely broken up the card party, and was sitting up stairs with Kitty.

  Left by herself, Elizabeth smiled at the rapidity and ease with which the affair was finally settled, that had given them so many previous months of suspense and vexation.

  In a few minutes, she was joined by Bingley, whose conference with her father had been short and to the purpose.

  "Where is your sister?" said he hastily, as he opened the door.

  "With my mother upstairs. She will be down in a moment, I dare say."