Lessons of Advantage

by michael sand

  This dance was succeeded by supper, and Mr Darcy had then the misfortune of sitting next to that impudent rattle, Mr Edward Osborne, (her brother,) who inquired, with apparent sympathy and real malice, whether Darcy was “taking a last look at his old flame.”

  “I’m sorry with all my heart you didn’t get her! I should have been vastly well satisfied if you had. Ashton’s a dull dog! I believe my mother was even more cut up; she was sure Sophie should fix you in the end. But you should have whipped up the horses a bit! My sister an’t exactly on the shelf, but the day warn’t far off; and as you seemed to be hanging fire, of course she set her cap at Ashton when he came along.”

  Darcy knew his man, and could withstand with equanimity both his impertinence, and that of his family, which had evidently come to consider him as Miss Osborne’s rightful property. In the event, he felt no regret for the loss of Miss Osborne; nor did he envy Lord Ashton for having gained her. He had met the lord before, a pleasant, young man, with a large, handsome, well-shaped head, and very little in it. His disposition was agreeable; but having some weakness of understanding, together with a tendency towards indolence, he needed the leading of a more decided character than his own, which would be amply supplied in Miss Osborne. Darcy wished Lord Ashton happy without the slightest reservation: much as he respected Miss Osborne, he had no desire to be married to her; for all her firm character and breadth of information, she possessed no vital spark; and though her personal attractions were great, his decided preference was for features more delicate, and manners more lively.

  “Well, don’t be downhearted,” said Mr Osborne, refilling his glass from a decanter, and attempting to fill Darcy’s. “There are fish enough in the sea.” Darcy refused the wine, and demurred at the sentiment; there was nothing wrong with his heart. “Oh! Then why did Fanny tell me, you spoke not a word to her the whole of your set? And I know for a fact there are half-a-dozen young ladies, who were expecting your notice, and are deeply offended because you slighted them. Any one of them would be glad to catch at you! — only I hear that Miss what’s-her-name, your friend’s sister, is to be the lucky woman.”

  Darcy was happily rescued from this series of impertinent inquiry by the serving of a new course, which allowed him to turn to his neighbour on the other side. As this was a deaf old lady, who only required that he should occasionally smile and nod his head at her, Darcy greatly benefited by the exchange. He was vexed — not by the idle chat of a puppy like Edward Osborne, but by his having allowed himself, through distraction, to fall into some peculiarity of manner. He was accustomed to being the object of assiduous manoeuvre on the part of marriageable young ladies — and their mammas, and he habitually cultivated a bland and polite reserve, which should give neither encouragement nor offence. However, his spirits had been unequal to maintaining this pose tonight, and he had been uncivil without intention. And yet, he rather knew, than felt himself at fault. He was not so much out of spirits, as out of sympathy with the occasion and with his company. They were only the people he had met on many previous occasions without his censure being provoked; but how dull every thing now appeared! No wit, no liveliness, and no conversation — beyond what had been said yesterday, and a hundred yesterdays before that. The Carters and Russells had been an event of more rational pleasure in comparison: for though the speech then had been rustic, and the dancing clownish, there had been more true fellowship amongst the company, and more joy in the union that was to be sanctifying. Even in wit, they had been very little inferior. — What was an Edward Osborne but just such another Dick Carter, — only the less tolerable for lacking Dick’s excuse of no education.

  The violins could be heard tuning up again, signalling that the dancing would soon recommence. Darcy, fatigued with the toils of civility, sought refuge from his thoughts, and from the observation of those he had already offended, and might offend again, in the card room. There, amongst the old ladies and whist-players, who were more eager for their rubbers than for the dance, he found for some hours an activity more agreeable than any he had yet pursued, and a sobriety more soothing.

  The moon was sufficiently full to allow Mr Darcy to ride home that night. Before leaving, he took a polite departure of the engaged couple, wishing them health and fortune. Lord Ashton invited him to come to Ashton Park for a day’s shooting whenever it should suit him; while the future Lady Ashton thought he might prefer to go round the estate with her, looking into the condition of the cottages, which she intended doing as soon as they should have returned from making their wedding visits. Lord Ashton’s estate was a large one, and promised his wife great scope for improving the lot of his tenants — and tyrannizing over them for their own good. Darcy perceived that Miss Osborne shared with his aunt the conviction of always knowing what was best for others; and if Darcy had felt any disappointment for her loss, the idea that she might with time become just such another Lady Catherine would have sufficed to overcome it.

  Thoughts of his aunt, which had been in abeyance since his return from Kent, were now bringing forward. He had been raised to feel respect for Lady Catherine by a mother and father who, from family loyalty, had perhaps tolerated her failings more than reason might justify; but for some time she had been losing ground in his esteem, and convincing him, either that her faults had grown worse with age, or that he had over-rated her merits. Recent experience had obliged him to admit, that with all her pretensions to superiority, Lady Catherine’s manners were deficient; that she was illiberal and peremptory, and too puffed up with self-consequence to act with the affability required of those favoured by fortune. Not the least of the grounds for this reassessment, had been furnished by the decided negative of all his aunt’s views of Elizabeth Bennet, in which her accustomary disdain for those of inferior station was blended uneasily with her apprehension of a person she could neither bully nor intimidate. Darcy wondered how he could have borne with Lady Catherine’s manner for so long! The set-down she had suffered in her rencontre with her disreputable cousin, Earle Fitzwilliam, was now source of a satisfaction he had not allowed himself when the Colonel told him the story. When all families have their unsatisfactory members, who should be casting the first stone? As the Colonel said, men were not accountable for their cousins. — Nor, Darcy hoped, for their aunts.

  It has been frequently observed, how enlightenment on one subject, may lead to enlightenment on another. The acknowledgement of the relation with his own disreputable cousin, George Wickham, which Darcy made at this moment, though painful, brought a curative relief in the sudden perception of its insignificance that immediately followed. How nonsensical it now appeared, that he should ever have considered Wickham’s being a connection of her family a bar to an union with Elizabeth Bennet, when he and Wickham were already connected by ties far more discreditable! And if the connection with Wickham were no longer a bar, what could be holding him back from seeking that union? Only his pride; his habit of paying regard to the views and expectations of people of his own rank, and thinking meanly of the rest of mankind. Well, he had been in company with these “best” people tonight, and it was a source of astonishment that he should ever have allowed their opinion to carry weight with him. Whose evaluation of an Elizabeth Bennet, was he to be preferring? — his own or Lady Catherine’s? He remembered with disgust his arrogant strictures against Miss Bennet’s inferior connections, by which he had alienated her last April. Were the inferiority of her connections of more moment to him than her own superiority? Did he consider equality of rank more important than equality of mind? — He would not admit positions so irrational! Then what a fool he must be, if he allowed the apparent disadvantages of the match to weigh against the real advantages of connecting himself with such a woman, — as beautiful in mind as in person! A talking mother-in-law would be a vexation, and such connections as Mrs Philips must be accounted an evil; their manners must continually offend. But what of it? With the possibility of real happiness before him, could he be satisfied instead with th
e cold negative of a dignity unblemished? If he could only overcome his pride, he might seek Miss Bennet out again! If? — The very putting of the question made its absurdity appear! The only barrier to their union which could signify, would be Miss Bennet’s dislike to it — should her mind still be set against him; the only negative that could matter was her own. If her disgust had not abated, then would be time to take what solace he could in unalloyed family greatness.

  The following morning Mr Darcy received a letter whose direction, scrawled in a spaciously flowing hand, he immediately recognized as that of Bingley.

  “Friday, Sept. 11

  “Dear Darcy,

  “We arrived safely a fortnight ago after an uneventful journey. Scarborough seems very full, but our rooms are tolerably comfortable. My sisters have a great deal of acquaintance in the town.”

  A few more general comments conveyed the news of the continued good health of all the party, and allowed Bingley to fulfil the demands of politeness by turning the page. He then concluded,

  “My sisters press me to remind you of their invitation to join us here, and Caroline asserts that you positively promised to do so. But you may probably have more important business at

  hand, and I trust that you will not let their wishes interfere with your plans. The attractions of Scarborough do by no means exceed our expectations of them.

  “Yr’s,

  Chas: Bingley”

  Bingley’s letters, though some times difficult to decipher from the haste with which they were written, were always lively and cheerful. Now a lowered tone, so unlike his usual happy flow, allied with an unusual degree of legibility, made it appear to Darcy that his friend was not in spirits. Poor Bingley! Held hostage in the company of his sisters, and obliged to trail along in their wake, when he would rather be anywhere else. — What had come of his scheme, so slyly expressed to Mrs Gardiner, of going to Netherfield for the shooting? —

  At that moment, the solution of a difficulty which had been puzzling Darcy appeared. His decision, the night before, to return into Hertfordshire, had been immediately accompanied by a host of objections. He could not visit the Bennets without raising suspicion. Nor could he simply arrive at Longbourn, and apply to Miss Bennet. He must have the opportunity to observe her behaviour; to see how she received him, and judge whether her decidedly negative views had been at all softened. To pay his addresses without perceiving some sign of encouragement was to risk reanimating the antipathy which he had raised in her once before. And in addition to her feelings, there were his own to consider. It would be painful enough to have his proposals rejected a second time — or to perceive that he should have no chance if he were to propose again; but how much worse if the publicity of his conduct were to make his rejection known! No, he could not visit Hertfordshire without some cover for his actions. But if Bingley were to return for the shooting, what more natural than that he should accompany him? And there were more reasons than just his own interests why he should go to Hertfordshire in Bingley’s company: he had not forgotten that he still owed it to his friend to repair the wrong he had done him in regard to Miss Jane Bennet. If he failed in his own cause, he might still succeed in Bingley’s.

  He reached for the bell-rope, and when Mrs Reynolds appeared, startled the housekeeper by announcing that he would be leaving for Scarborough within the hour. — “Would she kindly tell James to prepare the carriage, and inform Mr Morris that he wished to see him before he went.”

  The steward was dismayed to hear of his master’s intention of departing. Mr Darcy was such a steady man as a rule, with a true dedication to the land. That he should decide to leave at short notice and at such a moment — with a haste which must leave much useful business unaccomplished! — was most surprising However, Mr Morris saw that opposition would be futile, and only shook his head. But I am afraid that Mr Darcy sank in his steward’s estimation at that moment. (He guessed that there was a lady in the case!)

  Chapter Nine

  The first sight of Scarborough afforded the eye such a vista as may always be seen at seaside resorts, compounded of cliffs, sands, seagulls and seahorses, esplanades, bathing machines, straw hats and parasols. On the heights commanding the bay, the picturesque ruins of a castle lent elegance to the view, while in the town were to be found all the aids to pleasant dissipation, which might gratify the traveller in search of health, in the form of pump rooms and assembly rooms, coffee houses and theatres, a lending library and a waxworks. Bingley’s party had taken rooms in an eligible quarter on St Nicholas Cliff. Mr Darcy found their chaise at the door, and the ladies on the point of setting out for the Pump Room when he called the morning after his arrival. The party were all astonishment — they had had no notion of his coming. — But that he should come without notice was a delightful surprise! Miss Bingley looked particularly delighted, evidently taking his arrival as a compliment to herself. “She was pleased that Mr Darcy had acted upon her advice, in taking a break from his duties. The air of Scarborough was so bracing. He should soon recover from the fatigues of Pemberley.”

  When the ladies were gone, Bingley proposed a visit to a gunsmith, who had some single-bores of a new design he was eager to inspect. As they walked along, Darcy was busy in observing his friend. Nothing in Bingley’s manner spoke him unhappy, though Darcy thought he detected an unaccustomed shade of sombreness in his features. This (if Darcy’s observation was correct) Bingley shook off when they were arrived at the gunsmith’s, where he spent a happy hour sighting down the barrels, and discussing the intricacy of their actions. Afterwards, he and Darcy went to stroll in the quiet precinct round the cathedral close, and Darcy enquired, how Bingley had been passing his time. Had he drunk the waters with his sisters, or indulged in any sea-bathing? Neither, it appeared. “His health, he thanked God, was tolerably good. As for sea-bathing —” Bingley shuddered. Here was just such an opening as Darcy had looked for. “I hate to see you wasting your time in this stupid manner, Bingley,” he began. “From all I recollect of your ever saying, you do not care for the sea.”

  Bingley had no wish to deny it. He found the sea too tempestuous.—Too much power and display without purpose or goal, except the ceaseless goal of pounding against the strand.

  “Then why remain here? Why, as you are fond of shooting, do not you go into Hertfordshire, where you are in possession of an estate which provides you with preserves and a deputation?”

  “Do you mean Netherfield?” said Bingley, with a wondering look.

  “ — You suggest I go to Netherfield? I should like nothing better! (Then, his face falling) — But I do not think I could convince my sisters. They are fixed here, till it is time to go to town. And (with a sigh) they do not care for the neighbourhood of Netherfield. — They want me to give the place up entirely.”

  “Your sisters need not change their plans. Let them remain here by all means. But you may remove, if you wish. Your sisters’ disliking Netherfield need not prejudice you. Netherfield may provide you with all that would most gratify. Why not avail yourself of it?”

  For some moments, Bingley regarded his friend in doubtful silence. Then,

  “You make no objection to my passing the autumn in Hertfordshire?”

  “It is not for me to object or approve, Bingley. I merely suggest that you follow your own heart.”

  This disclaiming a power which Darcy had exercised over him as long as they had been friends, seemed as remarkable to Bingley, as that the suggestion of going into Hertfordshire should be issuing from the same quarter. Though a man of transparent openness, Bingley believed that he had maintained a perfect reserve, and had succeeded in hiding his feelings towards Jane Bennet. He was therefore greatly puzzled to understand what might be the motive of Darcy’s proposal: for months, any mention of a return into Hertfordshire, had been received by his connections with great coldness. “I know not how my sisters will take it,” Bingley said, with the trepidation of a caged bird, who finds the door of his cage left open. “I
doubt they will like my going off alone.”

  Darcy wondered that Bingley should care what his sisters thought on the subject. (He had never known the enduring tyranny of being a youngest child.) Besides, Bingley would not be going alone. Darcy had it in mind to visit his sister at her new school, and proposed — if Bingley did not object — to break his journey, and pass a few days at Netherfield. Bingley agreed of course, though with something of resignation: amongst the pleasures he had anticipated in Hertfordshire, had not been that of his friend’s company. However, objection was impossible, and one advantage immediately accrued to Bingley from his friend’s taking on himself the office of announcing the change of plans. Mrs Hurst looked doubtful and Miss Bingley shocked — Hertfordshire and Netherfield had long been so many danger signals to their minds; but they believed the danger to their brother must be sensibly diminished by the presence of Mr Darcy. And to make assurance doubly sure, (lest there should be any danger to Mr Darcy himself,) Miss Bingley retailed some intelligence, which had recently come to her through the medium of her assiduous correspondent, Miss Stanhope.