Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news had been given before in the course of Jane and Elizabeth’s correspondence with her, made her sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her nieces, turned the conversation.
When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. “It seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane. I am sorry it went off, but these things happen so often. A young man, such as you describe Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty girl for a few weeks, and when accident separates them so easily forgets her. These sorts of inconsistencies are very frequent.”
“An excellent consolation in its way,” said Elizabeth, “but it will not do for us. We do not suffer by accident. It does not often happen that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of independent fortune to think no more of a girl whom he was violently in love with only a few days before.”
“But that expression of ‘violently in love’ is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings which arise from a half-hour’s acquaintance, as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how violent was Mr. Bingley’s love.”
“I never saw a more promising inclination. He grew quite inattentive to other people and wholly engrossed by her. Every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he offended two or three young ladies, by not asking them to dance. I spoke to him twice myself, without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love.”
“Oh, yes, of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor Jane! I am sorry for her. With her disposition, she may not get over it immediately. It had better have happened to you, Lizzy. You would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. Do you think she would be prevailed upon to go back with us? Change of scene might be of service, and perhaps a little relief from home may be as useful as anything.”
Pleased with this proposal, Elizabeth felt persuaded of her sister’s ready acquiescence.
“I hope,” added Mrs. Gardiner, “that no consideration with regard to this young man will influence her. We live in so different a part of town, all our connections are so different, and we go out so little, that it is very improbable that they should meet at all unless he comes to see her.”
“And that is quite impossible for he is now in the custody of his friend, Mr. Darcy, who would no more suffer him to call on Jane in such a part of London. Mr. Darcy may perhaps have heard of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he would hardly think a month’s ablution enough to cleanse him from its impurities, were he once to enter it. And depend upon it, Mr. Bingley never stirs without him.”
“So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But his sister will not be able to help calling.”
“She will drop the acquaintance entirely.”
In spite of the certainty, Elizabeth felt a solicitude on the subject which convinced her, on examination, that she did not consider it entirely hopeless. It was possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that his affection might be reanimated and the influence of his friends successfully combated by the more natural influence of Jane’s attractions.
Jane accepted her aunt’s invitation with pleasure. The Bingleys were in her thoughts at the same time. She hoped by Caroline’s not living in the same house with her brother, she might occasionally spend a morning with her without any danger of seeing him.
The Gardiners stayed a week at Longbourn; and what with the Philipses, the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its engagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainment of her brother and sister that they did not once sit down to a family dinner. When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always made part of it — of which Mr. Wickham was sure to be one. On these occasions, Mrs. Gardiner rendered suspicious by Elizabeth’s warm commendation, narrowly observed them both. Without supposing them, from what she saw, to be very seriously in love, their preference of each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy. She resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject before she left Hertfordshire, and represent to her the imprudence of encouraging such an attachment.
To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of affording pleasure, unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago, before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that very part of Derbyshire to which he belonged. They had, therefore, many acquaintances in common. Though Wickham had been little there since the death of Darcy’s father, it was yet in his power to give her fresher intelligence of her former friends than she had been in the way of procuring.
Mrs. Gardiner had seen Pemberley, and had known the late Mr. Darcy by character perfectly well. Here consequently was an inexhaustible subject of discourse. In comparing her recollection of Pemberley with the minute description which Wickham could give, and in bestowing her tribute of praise on the character of its late possessor, she was delighting both him and herself. On being made acquainted with the present Mr. Darcy’s treatment of him, she tried to remember some of that gentleman’s reputed disposition when he was a lad which might agree with it, and was confident at last that she recollected having heard Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured boy.
Mrs. Gardiner’s caution to Elizabeth was punctually and kindly given on the first favorable opportunity of speaking to her alone. After honestly telling her what she thought, she went on, “You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love merely because you are warned against it. Therefore, I will speak openly. I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve yourself or endeavor to involve him in an affection which the want of fortune would make so very imprudent. I have nothing to say against him. He is a most interesting young man. If he had the fortune he ought to have, I should think you could not do better. But as it is, you must not let your fancy run away with you. You have sense, and we all expect you to use it. Your father would depend on your resolution and good conduct, I am sure. You must not disappoint.”
“My dear aunt, you are serious indeed.”
“Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious likewise.”
“Well, then, you need not be under any alarm. I will take care of myself and of Mr. Wickham too. He shall not be in love with me, if I can prevent it.”
“Elizabeth, you are not serious now.”
“I beg your pardon, I will try again. At present I am not in love with Mr. Wickham. He is, beyond all comparison, the most agreeable man I ever saw. I should be very sorry to be the means of making any of my family unhappy, but since we see every day that, where there is affection, young people are seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune from entering into engagements with each other. How can I promise to be wiser than so many of my fellow-creatures if I am tempted? All that I can promise you is not to be in a hurry to believe myself his first object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing.”
“Perhaps it will be as well if you discourage his coming here so very often. At least, you should not remind your mother of inviting him.”
“As I did the other day?” Elizabeth gave a conscious smile. “Very true. It will be wise in me to refrain from that. But do not imagine that he is always here so often. It is on your account that he has been so frequently invited this week. You know my mother’s ideas as to the necessity of constant company for her friends. But upon my honor, I will try to do what I think to be the wisest. I hope you are satisfied.”
Her aunt assured her that she was. “And, now Lizzy, what is this you hinted at earlier about a lady’s parlor? I will admit, your comment left me perplexed as to its source.”
Elizabeth, well used to the candid conversation of her aunt, and most grateful for it, relayed that conversation Mrs. Bennet had been insistent to give and vowed never talk about again.
“And that is how my sister described the marriage bed?” Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed. “If that is the way mothers tell their daughters about suc
h matters, it is no wonder so many girls get into awful situations. If it were Jane, I would not speak so frankly, but since it is you and I know I can depend upon your discretion, I will explain it to you in better terms. What was alluded to was the pleasure a man finds in his wife’s body, and some husbands enjoy the pleasure more often than others. In truth, it is not so horrible as your mother has painted it to be. As for the lying still, I will not comment, only to say that is not always the case, beyond that your husband will have to help you on.” Then, going on to explain the mechanics behind such marital acts in the most tactful way possible, Mrs. Gardiner managed to answer several of her niece’s questions before they parted.
Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshire soon after it had been quitted by the Gardiners and Jane. However, as he took up his abode with the Lucases, his arrival was no great inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. His marriage was now fast approaching, and she was so far resigned as to think it inevitable. Thursday was to be the wedding day, and on Wednesday Miss Lucas paid her farewell visit. When she rose to take leave, Elizabeth, ashamed of her mother’s ungracious and reluctant good wishes, accompanied her out of the room. As they went downstairs together, Charlotte said, “I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Eliza.”
“That you certainly shall.”
“And I have another favor to ask you. Will you come and see me.”
“We shall often meet, I hope, in Hertfordshire.”
“I am not likely to leave Kent for some time. Promise me, therefore, to come to Hunsford.”
Elizabeth could not refuse, though she foresaw little pleasure in the visit.
“My father and Maria are coming to me in March,” added Charlotte, “and I hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, you will be as welcome as either of them.”
The wedding took place. The bride and bridegroom set off for Kent from the church door, and everybody had as much to say on the subject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend and their correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been, though that it should be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth could never address her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over. For the sake of what had been, she determined not to slacken as a correspondent. Charlotte wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighborhood, and roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine’s behavior was most friendly. It was Mr. Collins’s picture of Hunsford and Rosings rationally softened, and Elizabeth perceived that she must wait for her own visit to know the truth.
Jane had already written a few lines to her sister to announce their safe arrival in London and, when she wrote again, Elizabeth hoped it would be in her power to say something of the Bingleys. Her impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as impatience generally is. Jane had been a week in town without either seeing or hearing from Caroline. She accounted for it by supposing that her last letter from Longbourn to her friend had by some accident been lost.
“My aunt,” she continued, “is going tomorrow into that part of the town, and I shall take the opportunity of calling in Grosvenor Street.”
She wrote again when the visit was paid and she had seen Miss Bingley. “I did not think Caroline in spirits,” were her words, “but she was very glad to see me and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming to London. I was right. My last letter never reached her. I inquired after their brother, of course. He was well, but so much engaged with Mr. Darcy that they scarcely ever saw him. I found Miss Darcy was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was not long, as Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I daresay I shall have a return visit from them soon.”
Elizabeth shook her head over this letter, convinced that only an accident would reveal to Mr. Bingley that her sister was in town.
Four weeks passed away, and Jane saw nothing of him. She endeavored to persuade herself that she did not regret it, but she could no longer be blind to Miss Bingley’s inattention. After waiting at home every morning for a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh excuse, the visitor did at last appear. The shortness of her stay and the alteration of her manner would allow Jane to deceive herself no longer. The letter which she wrote on this occasion to her sister proved what she felt.
“My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in her better judgment, at my expense, when I confess myself to have been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley’s regard for me. But, though the event has proved you right, do not think me obstinate if I still assert that, considering what her behavior was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate with me, but if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should be deceived again. Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday — not a note, not a line, did I receive in the meantime. When she did come, it was very evident that she had no pleasure in it. She made a slight, formal apology, for not calling before, said not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in every respect so altered a creature, that when she went away I was perfectly resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, though I cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out as she did. I can safely say that every advance to intimacy began on her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been acting wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her brother is the cause of it. I cannot but wonder at her having any such fears now, because, if he had at all cared about me, we must have met long ago. He knows of my being in town, I am certain, from something she said. Yet it would seem, by her manner of talking, as if she wanted to persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I cannot understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should be almost tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicity in all this. Miss Bingley said something of his never returning to Netherfield again, of giving up the house, but not with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely glad you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at Hunsford. Pray go to see them with Sir William and Maria. I am sure you will be very comfortable there. Yours, Jane.”
This letter gave Elizabeth some pain, but her spirits returned as she considered Jane would no longer be duped, by the sister at least. All expectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would not even wish for a renewal of his attentions. His character sunk on every review of it. As a punishment for him, as well as a possible advantage to Jane, she seriously hoped he might soon marry Mr. Darcy’s sister. By Wickham’s account, she would make him abundantly regret what he had thrown away.
Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Elizabeth of her promise concerning that gentleman, and required information. Elizabeth had such to send that might give contentment to her aunt rather than to herself. His apparent partiality had subsided, his attentions were over, he was the admirer of someone else. Elizabeth was watchful enough to see it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain. Her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied with believing that she would have been his only choice, had fortune permitted it. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most remarkable charm of the young lady to whom he was now rendering himself agreeable. Elizabeth, less clear-sighted perhaps in this case than in Charlotte’s, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence. Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural. While able to suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very sincerely wish him happy.
Besides, one could hardly think of Mr. Wickham without soon after thinking of Mr. Darcy’s treatment of him. Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to never think of Mr. Darcy again, or dream of him for that matter. Had she allowed it, her fantasies would have taken a turn for the day and the haunting kisses she suffered at night on balconies and in solitary gardens would have slipped into her conscious mind, causin
g the most unwelcome daydreams. Since she did not like Mr. Darcy, she could not account for the strange attraction, or for why her mind would be so evil as to make her suffer through it. Though, forming an attachment to that man was entirely impossible and she contented herself with the idea that her mind would soon tire of its torture.
After relating the news about Mr. Wickham to Mrs. Gardiner, did she write, “I am now convinced that I have never been much in love. Had I really experienced that pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name, and wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial towards him, they are even impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My watchfulness has been effectual. Though I certainly should be a more interesting object to all my acquaintances were I distractedly in love with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance. Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Kitty and Lydia take his defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WITH NO GREATER EVENTS than these in the Longbourn family, and otherwise diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty and sometimes cold, did January and February pass away. March was to take Elizabeth to Hunsford. At first, she had not thought very seriously of going, but Charlotte was depending on the plan and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasure. Absence had increased her desire of seeing Charlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There was novelty in the scheme, and, with such a mother and such uncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless. A little change was not unwelcome. The journey would moreover give her a peep at Jane. As the time drew near, she would have been very sorry for any delay. Everything went on smoothly, and was finally settled according to Charlotte’s first sketch. She was to accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement of spending a night in London was added in time, and the plan became perfect as plan could be.
Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition) Page 18