Lessons of Advantage

by michael sand

  Elizabeth said nothing. She thought Jane was shewing a fortitude of patience truly noble: though possessing what few women (and even fewer men) did, the heart to love without encouragement, she would be guarded enough to impose on the world. The event might make her unhappy, but no-one should know of her disappointment. Elizabeth understood it all, — understood why Jane could not speak of it, even to her. — But had Bingley truly come only for the shooting? Elizabeth might have thought it possible, if not for her recollection of their meeting in Lambton in August. She had been certain then that Bingley had not forgotten Jane, and that she continued to influence his views.

  But Elizabeth’s thoughts could not remain continually with her sister. The identity of the one other gentleman, who was to arrive with Mr Bingley, must be a matter of conjecture. “Could it be Mr Darcy? (At that moment, she could not have said whether she rather hoped or dreaded the prospect.) But why should he come? To safeguard his friend or to see me? — Oh, what vanity! Is there to be no end of my deluding myself? Why need his coming have anything to do with me?”

  Elizabeth had never told Jane of her meeting Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley in Derbyshire. Anxiety over Lydia had made any other subject impossible, on her first coming home; and subsequent events — the relief of that anxiety in the news that Lydia would marry, the distress of her wedding visit, and finally the startling revelation of Mr Darcy’s agency in bringing the wedding about (still unknown to the rest of her family) — had left such a state of perturbation in their wake, that the accustomary confidence between the sisters was not yet restored. Now, with the task of concealment, necessary on so many topics, made more complicate by the possibility of encountering one or other of these gentlemen, Elizabeth felt that she must impart some portion of the history. (She could not tell it all!) She therefore opened the subject, describing Mr Darcy’s unexpected returned while she and the Gardiners had been viewing Pemberley.

  “How distressing for you,” said Jane. “You must have felt the awkwardness.”

  “I should have, if Mr Darcy had not been civility itself. (And after a conscious pause) I had also the opportunity of meeting his sister. Miss Darcy is a much more estimable young lady than we were led to believe — quite amiable and unpretending.”

  Jane coloured slightly, but she only said, “I am rejoiced to hear it. I had hoped there might have been some mistake in the report.”

  “That is not to be wondered at, when you consider that Mr Wickham was the source.”

  For a moment, Elizabeth had done. Then, forcing herself to continue —

  “Mr Bingley was also present, and from what I saw of his conduct towards Miss Darcy, I am convinced that Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst are doomed to disappointment if they continue to entertain expectations in that quarter. From all I observed, the principle bond between Miss Darcy and Mr Bingley, appears to be the esteem in which they hold her brother and his friend. That alone establishes them on terms of regard.”

  Elizabeth was in terror of having said too much — or of Jane’s wishing the words unsaid. She must not encourage Jane’s hopes — but could not bear that Jane should have none. For a few minutes, nothing was said on either side. Then,

  “Lizzy, I pray you will not say anything of Mr Bingley’s coming to my mother. She will learn of it soon enough, I know; but I dread what she may say, and any delay will be valuable.”

  Elizabeth instantly agreed, and they walked the rest of their way home in silence. She could not help but regret the sinking of the openness, which had always prevailed between herself and Jane. There were reservations between them now: words left unspoken, and thoughts which remained unshared. But where she understood that Jane wished to conceal her feelings, Jane knew nothing of the secrets which she was withholding — the circumstances surrounding Lydia’s rescue, and her changed feelings towards the man responsible for it.

  In the event, Jane’s prayer was not answered, for when the girls were returned to Longbourn, they found Mrs Philips in their mother’s dressing room, and were greeted by Mrs Bennet — in her most triumphing voice. “Well, girls — and have you heard the news?”

  End of Volume Two

  VOLUME THREE

  Chapter One

  On Thursday, Mr Bingley was known to have arrived at Netherfield, and Mrs Bennet’s spirits soared; on Friday, they plummeted when he was seen riding into Meryton, but did not call at Longbourn. Saturday morning, the ladies of the house were sitting in the breakfast-room when they heard the jingle of horses on the sweep. Mrs Bennet sprang to the window. Mr Bingley! — without a doubt! Had she not foreseen it? Had she not told them it would be so? But Mr Bingley was not alone; another gentleman rode beside him. Mrs Bennet wondered who that might be; some guest of Bingley’s, she’d be bound, some newcomer to the neighbourhood. How vexatious! — What tedious introductions must now be made, what time-consuming courtesies gotten through! And the presence of a stranger to be damping the warmth with which they might otherwise welcome their dear Bingley, and delaying (what Mrs Bennet was chiefly bent on) a swift return to their old terms of good understanding.

  “It is not a stranger, Mamma,” said Kitty. “It’s that man that came with Mr Bingley last year, Mr Whatever-his-name-is — that proud one every one thought so handsome.”

  “I declare, you’re right! Mr Darcy, of all people! Why he should be coming here, I am sure I do not know! We will take no pleasure in his company — after the infamous way he treated poor Wickham!”

  Ever since she had heard the report of Mr Bingley’s being to return, Elizabeth had been both wishing and fearing that Darcy might be coming with him. (Such inconsistencies, as Dr Johnson tells us, cannot both be right, but when imputed to the mind of man, they may both be true.) Till that moment, she had thought her wishes predominated; now she doubted, imputing her change to the ungracious reception she feared Mr Darcy would receive from her family, an ungraciousness rendered the more intolerable by the extent of what they owed him — nothing less than their respectability. Elizabeth saw Jane glance at her at the mention of Darcy’s name, then look away with compassion, unwilling to add to her consciousness. But Jane had little idea of the range of subject on which Elizabeth had cause to be conscious; to Jane, Darcy was only the man she had rejected — not the man who had increasingly come to fill her thoughts. However, there was no avoiding Mr Darcy’s company; Mrs Bennet must look as complacent as she could, and Elizabeth as collected.

  The first salutations were soon made, in which Mrs Bennet balanced her excessive civility towards Mr Bingley with the coldness of her greeting to Mr Darcy. When they were seated,

  “You are quite a stranger, Mr Bingley,” she said. “People had begun to say you were never coming back, you quit Netherfield with such suddenness last winter. But I always maintained that you could not keep away, so great are the charms of Hertfordshire.” (with a complacent smile at Jane).

  Elizabeth groaned in spirit, but Jane (to her relief) seemed not to notice, her head bent over her work. Jane had greeted the gentlemen with perfect courtesy, evidently determined to display the same openness of manner as to any other visitor. Her mother might fawn; she should behave with no more than ordinary politeness; should shew herself free both of resentment and unnecessary complaisance, and make it plain that she had not the least expectation of Bingley. He, upon his first entrance into the room, had looked doubtful of his welcome; but he was always a fluent talker, and as soon as Mrs Bennet allowed him to speak, he expressed his sorrow that business had kept him from returning to Hertfordshire last winter — “regretted that the press of obligations had prevented him ever since — &c. &c.”

  “And will you be making a long stay?” Mrs Bennet inquired, perhaps wishing for some reassurance on that point.

  Bingley shot a quick look at Mr Darcy, but receiving no cue, — “I have no hesitation in saying,” he began, hesitating a good deal, — “I have no hesitation in saying, that we shall be staying for some weeks. Yes, certainly for some weeks.”

 
There was something at once defiant and conciliatory in the manner of Bingley’s remark, (chiefly directed, Elizabeth thought, towards his friend,) which she could not help smiling at. It suggested that Mr Bingley was in some doubt as to the length of his tether. “You did warn us of your propensities, Mr Bingley,” she plucked up courage to say. — This speech, the first she had made, apart from the requirements of civility, since the gentleman had entered, allowed her to look up from her work. “I remember your once saying, that if you resolved to quit a place, you should probably be off in five minutes.”

  Bingley looked both embarrassed at this recollection of his frivolous words, and pleased to recall the occasion (when they had all been together at Netherfield) on which they had been spoken. “He hoped,” he said, “ — he hoped from his heart, — that he should never again be giving offence by so sudden a departure.”

  Any resentment Elizabeth might have been harbouring towards Bingley on Jane’s behalf, was soon done away by his open, amiable, disposition, and the evident strength of his feelings. Elizabeth wondered with what anxious expectations Bingley might have looked forward to this visit. If she had been correct in her Derbyshire conclusion, that he was still partial to Jane, his initial trepidation might have had for its source more than a mere doubt of his welcome. He might have felt apprehensive at seeing Jane for the first time after so many months, fearful that the subject of so much idealized contemplation might disappoint when viewed in reality. If such had been Bingley’s fears, they were quickly allayed. Jane was as beautiful as he had imagined; as good natured, as unaffected. Every minute brought an increase in the warmth of his reawakened admiration, and Elizabeth believed that he would soon be as much in love as ever he had been. Jane’s feelings were less evident, for she maintained an air of calm serenity. Elizabeth alone might know what an heroic effort this required, for the only outward sign Miss Bennet gave of it was a countenance somewhat paler than usual. How reasonable it now seemed for Mr Darcy to have believed that Jane’s appearance of serenity had meant her heart was untouched!

  All this while, Elizabeth had scarcely looked at the object of her thoughts. Darcy’s arrival had given rise to a greater flutter of mind than she had expected. This would not do; and she resolved that she must present at least a façade of equanimity, even if she lacked the thing itself. In spite of her resolution, however, Elizabeth found the greatest difficulty in addressing Mr Darcy. She could not behold him without remembering what had passed between them on the last occasion they had met; — had to exert herself in order to rally her spirits, almost overpowered by the magnitude of the debt, which every person in that room owed him, though none of them knew it. She had not dared to look at him directly, after the first salutation, — had been obliged to profess an overmastering interest in her work (which normally commanded no interest at all). But when she did lift her eyes from the muslin, he seemed almost always to be looking away from her — more often regarding Jane than herself. From what she could gather from her furtive glances, he appeared grave and serious, more like the way he had behaved at the time of their first meeting than in Derbyshire. She felt disappointed — and angry at herself for feeling so. She could imagine, in his excuse, how ill at ease he must feel in her mother’s company; they were neither of them a favourite with the other; but she had hoped that he might see how the absence of Lydia had diminished what had been objectionable in her younger sisters; that Kitty’s conduct was improved, and Mary’s no worse. She must speak — she could not allow herself to go on in this stupid manner; — she must know if he had any thought of her. But she saw snares in every subject. And then, just as she was bringing herself to the pitch, he turned suddenly towards her, and in a quiet voice, said,

  “Have you heard from your aunt of late? I trust Mr and Mrs Gardiner remain in good health.”

  His words threw her into confusion. Did he know that Mrs Gardiner had revealed what he had hoped to keep secret? For a moment, Elizabeth was all apprehension. But Mr Darcy’s voice seeming as usual, and his displaying his habitual composure and presence of mind, brought relief, and convinced her that his inquiry held no special significance. She rejoiced — and was instantly sorry. Such shared knowledge must have been fraught with the most painful consciousness; but she heartily wished that she might thank him — would have given a great deal to be able to express the fervour of her gratitude, and to be on terms of open honesty with him. Recovering her complexion as best she could, she therefore answered, — in what she probably thought her natural tone, not realizing how little like herself she then appeared; how subdued and quiet; or how cool her voice sounded, from the exertion she was making to control it, — “that all were well in Gracechurch-street.”

  Elizabeth’s attention was then distracted by Mrs Bennet’s calling on Mr Bingley to congratulate her on the recent marriage of her daughter, — and expressing her wonder that her youngest should have been the first to marry, “when they had all confidently expected that honour to go to Jane!” Still, she was well pleased. “Mrs Lydia Wickham sounded so well! — though the name of Wickham might not be so welcome to every one’s ears as it was to theirs.” Elizabeth knew this aimed at Mr Darcy, and the misery of hearing such unjust recriminations against the man to whom they owed their peace of mind spurred her into speech. —

  “And how is Colonel Fitzwilliam? Does he attend his regiment? I beg you will send the Colonel my profoundest respects, when ever you may be writing.”

  Mr Darcy believed his cousin was enjoying his accustomary robust health. He would certainly forward Miss Bennet’s greetings in his next letter.

  At length, (it seemed a great length to Elizabeth,) the gentlemen rose to go, and she heard her mother inviting Mr Bingley to take a family dinner with them in a few days’ time. “You know, you had meant to come to us last winter, only it was put off by your departure. Now we can all be taking up again just where we left off.” Elizabeth felt vexed at the insinuating style of her mother’s invitation, but Bingley accepted it with alacrity — with an involuntary glance towards Darcy that made Mrs Bennet feel obliged to include him in the invitation. “Of course, (in an ungracious tone,) any friend of Mr Bingley’s would always find a welcome in that house.”

  When they were gone, Elizabeth’s chief sensation was of relief; the first meeting was over, and she supposed that time and repetition must blunt all painful sensibilities. Every thing was now clear, with the exception of these two points alone, — that she knew not what to think of Mr Darcy, or what he might be thinking of her. “Are we then to meet in future only as familiars, without particularity — is that the intention to be read into his formality of manner? Is he shewing me, that I must expect no renewal of his regard? — How could I expect such a thing, after all that has taken place? — (hating herself for the folly which asked the question) — my uncivil rejection, and his chivalrous generosity in return, of which he would not even have me know. He has done what I asked of him, — more rightly, what I begged and forced him to do; he has rescued me, and he feels that he owes me nothing more, — not even to allow me to express my gratitude, and receive my thanks.” Elizabeth had never felt prey to such a wretched contrariety of emotions. She could not tell whether she wished Mr Darcy away, or immediately back again. Was anything to be hoped for, — was not there more to be feared, — from any future meeting? To the pain of this uncertainty, was added the shame she felt, for exhibiting so great an inconstancy of mind, and so little command over her spirits.

  Jane was in better favour with herself than Elizabeth when this visit was over. Miss Bennet had behaved with dignity and propriety, just as she ought; — she need feel no shaming consciousness, nor failure of judgement. The admiration Elizabeth felt for her sister, was mixed with the bitter regret of self-reproach.

  Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy were seen at church the following day; but as they were surrounded by well-wishers as soon as the service had ended, and Mr Bennet disliked waiting about, — or dancing attendance, as he put it, — for any
one, the Bennet family had no opportunity of exchanging a word with them.

  On Monday, Jane, Elizabeth, and Kitty walked into Meryton. Kitty went to the house of her Aunt Philips, but Jane and Elizabeth had an errand at Clarke’s library, where they spent a pleasant hour exchanging their old books for new. As they left the library, they saw Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy on the opposite pavement. The gentlemen raised their hats, and Mr Bingley, with a happy smile, immediately crossed the road; Mr Darcy following, somewhat reluctantly (as it seemed to Elizabeth). Explanations then followed on both sides. Bingley and Darcy had been paying calls, while the sisters had their new books to shew what had been their occupation. Elizabeth thought that if Mr Darcy’s wishes had then been consulted, these polite enquiries would soon have been followed by polite farewells; but Mr Bingley was all interest in the library. — He had not visited it during his stay last winter. Was it good? Well maintained? A wide selection? Ought he to subscribe? He had a value for reading, but never knew what books to choose. “I am sure you can advise me, Miss Bennet, (turning to Elizabeth). I believe you are a great reader.”

  “A great reader, perhaps, but not a deep one,” said Elizabeth. “I own, I read only for pleasure, and I think the collection a good one because it contains all the latest novels. Mrs Clarke let it be known, when she advertised her project, that her collection would contain every kind of literature. I suppose she had to consult the pretensions of her more important subscribers, who all profess to despise novels, but she might have spared herself as far as I was concerned. I make no claim to the sort of accomplishments, which can only be attained by thick quartos and extensive reading.”

  She stopped with a flush of consciousness, as unfriendly recollection recalled the evening at Netherfield when the accomplishments of women had been under discussion. Mr Darcy looked grave for an instant, as though he too were recalling it. Then, seeming to rally himself, and with an air of being determined to speak, —