To Make Sport for our Neighbours

by Ronald McGowan

"'Tis an etiquette I despise," said I. "If he wants our society, let him seek it. He knows where we live. I will not spend my hours in running after my neighbours every time they go away, and come back again."

  "Well, all I know is, that it will be abominably rude if you do not wait on him. But, however, that shan't prevent my asking him to dine here, I am determined. We must have Mrs. Long and the Gouldings soon. That will make thirteen with ourselves, so there will be just room at table for him.”

  I had foolishly entertained the thought that, with Lydia now safely despatched to her northern wilderness, I might find some leisure to return to my studies, but I ought to have known better.

  Mr. Bingley arrived. Mrs. Bennet, through the assistance of servants, contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that the period of anxiety and fretfulness on her side, might be as long as it could. She counted the days that must intervene before their invitation could be sent; hopeless of seeing him before. But on the third morning after his arrival in Hertfordshire, she saw him from her dressing-room window, enter the paddock, and ride towards the house.

  Her daughters were eagerly called to partake of her joy. Jane resolutely kept her place at the table; but Elizabeth, to satisfy her mother, went to the window—she looked,—she saw Mr. Darcy with him, and sat down again by her sister.

  "There is a gentleman with him, mamma," said Kitty; "who can it be?"

  "Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not know."

  "La!" replied Kitty, "it looks just like that man that used to be with him before. Mr. what's his name. That tall, proud man."

  "Good gracious! Mr. Darcy!—and so it does I vow. Well, any friend of Mr. Bingley's will always be welcome here to be sure; but else I must say that I hate the very sight of him.”

  There could be no need of my presence during such a meeting, and I took the opportunity to absent myself. Thus I was spared the agonies of witnessing the partner of my bosom gloat over marrying her youngest daughter and all but push her eldest into the arms of the principal caller.

  We did not see the gentlemen again till Tuesday; and 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.

  We had a large party at Longbourn that evening, and it was impossible to keep an eye upon everyone. Mrs. Bennet, of course, did everything possible, short of heaving them bodily into a cupboard and closing the door on them, to bring Jane and Bingley together. This was only to be expected, but it surprised me to see that she had evidently succeeded in persuading Elizabeth to second her scheme. I could think of no other reason why she should so markedly follow Mr.Darcy around and attempt at every moment to detach him from his friend.

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

  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 in ten days time. He sat with us above an hour, and was in remarkably good spirits. Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine with us; but, with many expressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged elsewhere.

  "Next time you call," said she, "I hope we shall be more lucky."

  He should be particularly happy at any time, &c. &c.; and if she would give him leave, would take an early opportunity of waiting on them.

  "Can you come to-morrow?"

  Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-morrow; and 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, crying out,

  "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.”

  All of which gave quite enough notice to the rest of us as to her intentions.

  Bingley stayed with us until quite late, and I could see the frustration mounting on Mrs. Bennet’sface as all this while there had been no opportunity to put her design into operation. In spite of all her mother’s, increasing blatant hints, Jane would not be prevailed upon to go anywhere without one of her sisters.

  The same anxiety to get them by themselves, was visible again in the evening. After tea, I retired to the library, as was my custom, and Mary went up stairs to her instrument.

  Two obstacles of the three being thus removed, she finally managed, by blatant excuses, to give the supposed lovers some time alone together.

  For all her efforts, Mrs. Bennet's schemes for this day were ineffectual. By the end of it, 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 our evening party; and he bore with the ill-judged officiousness of the mother, and heard all her silly remarks with a forbearance and command of countenance, particularly grateful to the daughter.

  He scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper; and before he went away, an engagement was formed, chiefly through his own and Mrs. Bennet's means, for his coming next morning to shoot with her husband.

  Exactly what put that idea into Mrs. Bennet’s head, I have no idea. It must be thirty years since I last took a gun out, and I have no notion of rearing expensive birds merely so that oafs and bores may shoot at them when the whim takes them.

  But a shooting party it was to be, and who was I to argue?

  Bingley was punctual to his appointment; and we spent the morning together, as had been agreed on. He turned out to be much more agreeable than I had expected. There was nothing of that presumption or folly in Bingley, that could provoke any man’s ridicule, or disgust him into silence; and each of us was more communicative, and less eccentric than the other had ever seen him. The birds of Longbourn Copse went about their normal occasions largely unscathed, and, indeed, not much powder was wasted, but a walk in the woods is healthy exercise, of which I dare say I do not get enough.

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

  The first indication I had of its having succeeded was the entry of Bingley himself into my library, to beg for the hand of my daughter in marriage.

  Jane’s inclinations had been pretty obvious to all but Bingley himself these past twelve months and I already knew quite enough about him to dispense with the usual enquiries. My consent was as hearty as it was inevitable.

  It was an evening of no common delight to all; the satisfaction of my darling 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; and even I, by my voice and manner, could not help but plainly show how really happy I was.

  Not a word, however, passed my lips in allusion to it, till our visitor took his leave for the night; but as soon as he was gone, I turned to my daughter and said,

  "Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman."

  Jane came to me instantly, kissed me, and thanked me for my goodness.

  "You are a good girl;" I 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."

  "I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters, would be unpardonable in me."

  "Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet," cried my wife, "w
hat 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, at last. 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, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was beyond competition her favourite 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 when some barbarous neighbour, who could not be enough detested, had given him an invitation to dinner, which he thought himself obliged to accept.

  Chapter Thirty-two A Distinguished Visitor

  One morning, about a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane had been formed, we received an unexpected visit. I knew nothing of it until afterwards, and so must rely for details on snippets let drop by Lizzy.

  As Bingley 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; and 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 neighbours. 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, however, that somebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Jane 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, she said very stiffly to Elizabeth,

  "I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady I suppose is your mother."

  Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was.

  "And that I suppose is one of your sisters."

  "Yes, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to a 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 dare say; 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; but Lady Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely, declined eating any thing; and 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 favour me with your company."

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

  Elizabeth obeyed, and running into her own room for her parasol, attended her noble guest down stairs. As they passed through the hall, Lady Catherine opened the doors into the dining-parlour and drawing-room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent looking rooms, walked on.

  What occurred thereafter remains wrapped in mystery. Elizabeth returned shortly afterwards, merely saying that Lady Catherine had not chosen to return to the house, and agreed with her mother’s conjecture that her ladyship had merely called in passing to relate her news of the Collinses.

  From what happened later, I could find myself inclined to doubt my daughter’s veracity in giving this impression, were such a thing not entirely inconceivable.

  Chapter Thirty-three Surprises

  My surprise, on hearing who the visitor had been, was very great; but I satisfied it, with the same kind of supposition, which had appeased Mrs. Bennet's curiosity; and spared Elizabeth from much teasing on the subject.

  The next morning, however, coming out of my library with a letter in my hand, I met her as she was coming down stairs,

  "Lizzy," said I, "I was going to look for you; come into my room."

  She followed me thither; and her curiosity to know what I had to tell her, was written on her face, no doubt heightened by the supposition of its being in some manner connected with the letter I held. She can have had no idea who it was from.

  She followed me to the fire place, and we both sat down. I then said,

  "I have received a letter this morning that has astonished me exceedingly. As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know its contents. I did not know before, that I had two daughters on the brink of matrimony. Let me congratulate you, on a very important conquest."

  The colour now rushed into Elizabeth's cheeks. I had not thought that the mere mention of matrimony would have affected her so much.

  "You look conscious. Young ladies have great penetration in such matters as these; but I think I may defy even your sagacity, to discover the name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Collins."

  "From Mr. Collins! and what can he have to say?"

  "Something very much to the purpose of course. He begins with congratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, of which it seems he has been told, by some of the good-natured, gossiping Lucases. I shall not sport with your impatience, by reading what he says on that point. What relates to yourself, is as follows.

  "Having thus offered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs. Collins and myself on this happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another: of which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter Elizabeth, it is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet, after her elder sister has resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate, may be reasonably looked up to, as one of the most illustrious personages in this land."

  "Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this?"

  "This young gentleman is blessed in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart of mortal can most desire,—splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive patronage. Yet in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my cousin Elizabeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur, by a precipitate closure with this gentleman's proposals, which, of course, you will be inclined to take immediate advantage of.”

  “Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman is? But now it comes out."

  "My motive for cau
tioning you, is as follows. We have reason to imagine that his aunt, lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match with a friendly eye."

  "Mr. Darcy, you see, is the man! Now, Lizzy, I think I have surprised you. Could he, or the Lucases, have pitched on any man, within the circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the lie more effectually to what they related? Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any woman but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at you in his life! It is admirable!"

  Elizabeth could only force one most reluctant smile. This was unusual. Never had my wit previously been directed in a manner evidently so little agreeable to her.

  "Are you not diverted?"

  "Oh! yes. Pray read on."

  "After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her ladyship last night, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she felt on the occasion; when it became apparent, that on the score of some family objections on the part of my cousin, she would never give her consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my duty to give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she and her noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run hastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned."

  "Mr. Collins moreover adds,

  "I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia's sad business has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their living together before the marriage took place, should be so generally known. I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain from declaring my amazement, at hearing that you received the young couple into your house as soon as they were married. It was an encouragement of vice; and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should very strenuously have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them as a Christian, but never to admit them in your sight, or allow their names to be mentioned in your hearing."

  "That is his notion of Christian forgiveness! The rest of his letter is only about his dear Charlotte's situation, and his expectation of a young olive-branch,