Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition)

by Annabella Bloom

  Bingley was punctual to his appointment, and he and Mr. Bennet spent the morning together as had been agreed on. The latter was much more agreeable than his companion expected. There was nothing of presumption or folly in Bingley that could provoke his ridicule, or disgust him into silence. Mr. Bennet was more communicative, and less eccentric, than the other had ever seen him. Bingley of course returned with him to dinner, and in the evening Mrs. Bennet’s invention was again at work to get everybody away from him and her daughter. Elizabeth, who had a letter to write, went into the breakfast room for that purpose soon after tea, for as the others were all going to sit down to cards, she could not be wanted to counteract her mother’s schemes.

  With her dear sister gone to write a letter, and the others of the house banished by the schemes of her mother, Jane found herself alone with Mr. Bingley. When he was not around, she tried to tell herself she was happy with their friendship. But, whenever she was in his presence, her heart would beat and her world would become a dizzying spin that only settled when she looked upon his face.

  As he stood from the couch, he did not move for a long time. He alternated between gazing into her eyes with his mouth half-open in silenced speech, and staring at the floor as if trying to reclaim the words that had fallen out unspoken. She wondered at his manner, but was patient enough to give him time, for she could not imagine what was putting such a charming man so out of sorts.

  When he did not quickly speak, she ventured to say, “It is good the weather stayed warm for your sport this morn —”

  “Marry me,” Bingley blurted. Jane instantly stood. Her face must have been very pale in her surprise for he instantly stepped back from her and began to apologize. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet, that was not well said at all. I find each time when I try to get the nerve to ask you, I cannot think in a logical way.”

  “You,” she managed breathlessly, but no more followed.

  “I had prepared a speech,” he said more to himself than her. Then, looking at her in earnest, he asked, “Should you like to hear it?”

  Jane smiled, nodding eagerly. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she stepped closer to him. He was near the hearth, outlined by the orange light of fire.

  He opened his mouth, and then laughed, the same happy sound that had first stirred her heart towards him. “I look at you and I cannot remember. However, I will promise you that if you have me, I will endeavor to remember every complement I wished to pay you and will write it down so I may read it to you later.”

  She smiled. “I would like to hear it read.”

  Then, giving a nervous laugh, he glanced around the room and took a knee. Jane looked down at his face, hardly able to believe he was looking up at her. She trembled violently as he reached to take her hand in his. “First, I must again beg your forgiveness. This event is not going as I have wished it to in my head. However, if you can see fit to forgive me, and will have me as your husband, I will endeavor to say all the right things in the future, though I can hardly promise to do as much as you will often fluster me with just one of your smiles. You see, my dear Miss Bennet, I am — I have been since the very first moment I saw you — deeply in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life making you smile at me. I was incomprehensibly foolish to have left you before, but I cannot stand to lose you again. I love you. I love you and I am asking that you marry me.”

  It was not the most perfect of speeches, but there was something to his rush of eager words that captured Jane’s heart and she did not notice a single flaw in its delivery. Happily, she nodded her head, whispering a faint, “Yes, yes.”

  Bingley grinned, surging to his feet. She naturally drew closer to him, and his hands went effortlessly to her waist, drawing her closer still. His lips met hers and she gasped at that first intimate contact to pass between them. At first, they did not move, but slowly, as she learned the feel of a man’s kiss, she let the sensations of it overtake her. Just as they began to move their lips, the sound of the door latch opening pried them quickly apart. Stunned, Jane automatically smoothed her skirts along her waist, though they were not wrinkled. Bingley laughed nervously, but took a step back, unable to hide his happy grin.

  Elizabeth, having finished her letter, returned to the drawing room, and saw, to her infinite surprise, there was reason to fear that her mother had been too ingenious in her plans to leave Jane and Mr. Bingley alone. On opening the door, she perceived her sister and Bingley standing together over the hearth, as if engaged in earnest conversation. This led to no suspicion for, as they hastily turned round and moved away from each other to sit down, the faces of both told it all. Their situation was awkward enough, but Elizabeth thought hers was still worse. Not a syllable was uttered by either. 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 sister, Jane acknowledged, with the liveliest emotion, “I am the happiest creature in the world. Bingley has asked and I have accepted. I wish I could remember every line of what he said, but it was very prettily done and —‘tis by far too much! I cannot deserve it. Oh, why is everybody not as happy?”

  Elizabeth’s congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth, a delight, which words could but poorly express. Every sentence of kindness was a fresh source of happiness to Jane. But she would not allow herself to stay with her sister, or say half that remained to be said for the present.

  “I must go instantly to my mother,” Jane declared. “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.

  Elizabeth, who was left by herself, now smiled at the rapidity and ease with which the affair was finally settled, especially since it had given them so many previous months of suspense and vexation.

  “And this,” said she, “is the end of all his friend’s anxious circumspection, of all his sister’s falsehood and contrivance. This, the happiest, wisest, most reasonable end!”

  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 up stairs. She will be down in a moment.”

  He then shut the door, and, coming up to her, claimed the good wishes and affection of a sister. Elizabeth honestly and heartily expressed her delight in the prospect of their relationship. They shook hands with great cordiality. Then, till her sister came down, she listened to all he had to say of his own happiness, and of Jane’s perfections. In spite of his being so deeply in love, Elizabeth really believed all his expectations of felicity to be rationally founded, because they had for basis the excellent understanding, and super-excellent disposition of Jane, and a general similarity of feeling and taste between her sister and himself.

  It was an evening of no common delight to them all. The satisfaction of Jane’s mind gave a glow of such sweet animation to her face, as made her look handsomer than ever. Kitty simpered and smiled, and hoped her turn was coming soon. Mrs. Bennet could not give her consent or speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings, though she talked to Bingley of nothing else for half-an-hour. Mr. Bennet joined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly showed how really happy he was.

  Not a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to it, till their visitor took his leave for the night. As soon as he was gone, he turned to his daughter, and said, “Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman.”

  Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked him for his goodness.

  “
You are a good girl,” he replied, “and I have great pleasure in thinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will always exceed your income.”

  Jane could but smile.

  “Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet,” cried his wife, “what are you talking of? Why, he has four or five thousand a year, and very likely more.” Then addressing her daughter, “Oh, my dear, dear Jane, I am so happy! I am sure I shan’t get a wink of sleep all night. I knew how it would be. I always said it must be so. I was sure you could not be so beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when he first came into Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely it was that you should come together. Oh, he is the handsomest young man that ever was seen!”

  Wickham and Lydia were forgotten. Jane was beyond competition her favorite child. At that moment, she cared for no other. Her younger sisters soon began to make interest with her for objects of happiness which she might in future be able to dispense. Mary petitioned for the use of the library at Netherfield, and Kitty begged very hard for a few balls there every winter.

  Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily visitor at Longbourn; coming frequently before breakfast, and always remaining till after supper; unless some barbarous, detestable neighbor had given him an invitation which he thought himself obliged to accept.

  Elizabeth had little time for conversation with her sister for, while he was present, Jane had no attention to bestow on anyone else. However, she found herself considerably useful to both of them in those hours of separation that must sometimes occur. In the absence of Jane, he always attached himself to Elizabeth, for the pleasure of talking of her; and when Bingley was gone, Jane constantly sought the same means of relief.

  “He has made me so happy,” said she, one evening, “by telling me that he was totally ignorant of my being in town last spring. I had not believed it possible.”

  “I suspected as much,” replied Elizabeth. “But how did he account for it?”

  “It must have been his sister’s doing. They were certainly no friends to his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see, as I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will learn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again. Though we can never be what we once were to each other.”

  “That is the most unforgiving speech I ever heard you utter,” said Elizabeth. “Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again the dupe of Miss Bingley’s pretended regard.”

  “Would you believe it, Lizzy, when he went to town last November, he really loved me? Nothing but a persuasion of my being indifferent would have prevented his coming down again!”

  “He made a little mistake to be sure, but it is to the credit of his modesty.”

  This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence, and the little value he put on his own good qualities. Elizabeth was pleased to find that he had not betrayed the interference of his friend; for, though Jane had the most generous and forgiving heart in the world, she knew it was a circumstance which must prejudice her against Mr. Darcy.

  “I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!” exclaimed Jane. “Oh, Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed above them all? If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such another man for you!”

  “If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness. Perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins.”

  Jane’s laughter joined Elizabeth’s and neither one of them could speak for many minutes.

  The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family could not be kept secret for long. Mrs. Bennet was privileged to whisper it to Mrs. Philips, and she ventured, without any permission, to do the same by all her neighbors in Meryton. The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest family in the world, though only a few weeks before, when Lydia had first run away, they had been generally proved to be marked out for misfortune.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  ONE MORNING, about a week after Bingley’s engagement with Jane had been formed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in the dining room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window by the sound of a carriage. They perceived a chaise and four driving up the lawn. It was too early in the morning for visitors, and besides, the equipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbors. The horses were post, and neither the carriage nor the livery of the servant who preceded it were familiar to them. As it was certain that somebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid the confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the shrubbery. They both set off, and the conjectures of the remaining three continued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown open and their visitor entered. It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

  They were of course all intending to be surprised, but their astonishment was beyond their expectation; and on the part of Mrs. Bennet and Kitty, though she was perfectly unknown to them, even inferior to what Elizabeth felt.

  She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no other reply to Elizabeth’s salutation than a slight inclination of the head, and sat down without saying a word. Elizabeth had mentioned her name to her mother on her ladyship’s entrance, though no request of introduction had been made.

  Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such high importance, received her with the utmost politeness. After sitting for a moment in silence, Lady Catherine said very stiffly to Elizabeth, “I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady, I suppose, is your mother.”

  “She is, my lady,” Elizabeth replied very concisely.

  “And that I suppose is one of your sisters.”

  “Yes, madam,” said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to Lady Catherine. “She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married, and my eldest is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young man who, I believe, will soon become a part of the family.”

  “You have a very small park here,” returned Lady Catherine after a short silence.

  “It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my lady, I daresay,” answered Mrs. Bennet, “but I assure you it is much larger than Sir William Lucas’s.”

  “This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening, in summer. The windows are full west.”

  Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner, and then added, “May I take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr. and Mrs. Collins well.”

  “Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last.”

  Elizabeth now expected that she would produce a letter for her from Charlotte, as it seemed the only probable motive for her calling. But no letter appeared, and she was completely puzzled.

  Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her ladyship to take some refreshment. Lady Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely, declined eating anything. Then, rising up, said to Elizabeth, “Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you will favor me with your company.”

  “Go, my dear,” urged her mother, “and show her ladyship about the different walks. I think she will be pleased with the hermitage.”

  Elizabeth obeyed, and hurrying into her own room for a parasol, attended her noble guest downstairs. As they passed through the hall, Lady Catherine opened the doors into the dining parlor and drawing room, and after a short survey pronounced them to be decent looking rooms, and walked on.

  Her carriage remained at the door, and Elizabeth saw that her waiting woman was in it. They proceeded in
silence along the gravel walk that led to the copse. Elizabeth was determined to make no effort for conversation with a woman who was now more than usually insolent and disagreeable.

  “How could I ever think her like her nephew?” thought she, as she looked in the woman’s face.

  As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following manner, “You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come.”

  Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment. “Indeed, you are mistaken, madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honor of seeing you here.”

  “Miss Bennet,” replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, “you ought to know that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that not only your sister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that you, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon afterwards united to my nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure him so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place so that I might make my sentiments known to you.”

  “If you believed it impossible,” said Elizabeth, coloring with astonishment and disdain, “I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?”

  “At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted.”

  “Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family,” said Elizabeth coolly, “will be rather a confirmation of it — if, indeed, such a report is in existence.”

  “If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been industriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a report is spread abroad?”