“He is a cut above the rest,” Mrs. Hurst agreed.
Colonel Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes at Mr. Darcy.
“He is a well-mannered gentleman,” Mr. Bingley said. “I thought him very pleasant too.”
This was too much for Mr. Darcy. He had earlier been focused upon the harm that Mr. Wickham might do, but he did not want his friend taking too great a liking to a dishonourable man. Mr. Bingley would want to be warned against unsuitable friendships. Nor did Mr. Darcy want to spend the next couple of weeks hearing Mr. Wickham’s name spoken constantly. Something must be said, but not too much.
“Mr. Wickham is agreeable, and his manners are indeed excellent; however, I will tell you now that he and I are not on good terms. I would prefer not to hear his name mentioned outside of our rehearsals.”
“You know him?” Mr. Bingley asked in surprise.
“Yes. I know him very well. His father was my father’s steward.”
“A steward,” Miss Bingley repeated with distaste. “One would not have taken him for a man of such low descent. He behaves as though he thinks himself a real gentleman. I think it very deceitful of him. We must tell him that he is no longer welcome here. Naturally we shall not have him in the house if you do not wish it.”
“There is no need for that, nor would it make a good appearance. What I wish is not to bring discredit upon your brother.”
“Getting rid of him would be an awkward business,” Mr. Bingley said, “but we certainly shall not have him if that is what you want, Darcy.”
“No, it is not. To reverse the invitation now would damage your reputation, which I will not have happen. It is better for him to remain.”
“I have no wish for you to be uncomfortable.”
“I shall manage. Fortunately, we need not have much to do with each other.
“Well, I shall not speak to him again,” Miss Bingley declared.
“Nor I,” Mrs. Hurst said.
“We cannot be uncivil now,” Mr. Bingley said. “Reserve is certainly justified, but anything more will only be calling attention to ourselves.”
“I agree,” Mr. Darcy said. “You need not treat him any differently. As I said, he is gentlemanly in his behaviour and respectable in his appearance. For reasons upon which I would rather not elaborate, I have no good opinion of his principles, and I really would not recommend his friendship to anybody, but I think it very likely that he will conduct himself in an exemplary fashion while he is here. All I ask is to have his name kept out of our conversations.”
“That will be done,” Mr. Bingley said. “None of us shall mention him again.”
“No, indeed,” Miss Bingley agreed.
Mrs. Hurst and Jane nodded, and Mr. Hurst looked as though he had no interest in mentioning anybody; however, Elizabeth made no indication of her thoughts on the subject. Mr. Darcy wondered sadly if she already liked Mr. Wickham too well to believe any ill of him.
“I thought Mr. Bennet was very good in his role, and it was impressive that he did not have to read the part as the rest of us did,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, effectively changing the subject, much to the relief of Mr. Darcy, who agreed that they had an excellent Leonato.
“Your father has quite a talent for acting,” he said to Elizabeth.
“He is very fond of it,” she replied. “I think you would have appreciated seeing his portrayal of Dogberry.”
“You have acted our play before?”
“No, not the whole play. We sometimes do single scenes for an evening’s amusement, and the one in which Dogberry instructs the watch was one of his choices.”
“What was your part?”
“I was Verges. Jane played Borachio, in which part she smiled far too much to be a villain.”
“Like our Don John this morning.”
“I did hear that Colonel Forster is lately engaged,” Mr. Bingley said.
“Well, that might explain his smiles,” Mr. Darcy said. “Perhaps he may be better able to suppress them after the first flush of enthusiasm has faded away.”
“Are you suggesting that it may soon do so?” Elizabeth asked. “The idea of a gentleman’s enthusiasm quickly waning does not make a very good case for matrimony.”
“I was only thinking of the initial excitement. One hopes that the ardour itself may be a thing of longevity, but I believe it is quite separate from the exhilaration of an engagement. The first should be deep and enduring, but the second is mere euphoria. I am only hoping, for the sake of our play, that Colonel Forster’s euphoria may quickly flit away.”
“You are quite wicked,” she declared with amusement.
“Only practical,” he said in a serious voice, but he was grinning widely.
This little exchange was so agreeable that he was now inclined to stop worrying about her silence on the subject of Wickham. She might only have been reluctant to speak on account of being a guest at Netherfield. Or she might have felt that the general agreement of the others was sufficient. And it was not as though she had spoken up in defence of her new acquaintance.
Mr. Darcy would have liked to carry on talking with her alone; however, Miss Bingley interrupted, as she so often did, and made her usual determined effort to secure his attention for herself. But she could not completely dominate the conversation, and Mr. Darcy was just as determined to draw Elizabeth into it. They shared a few more amusing ideas, and he went to bed that night feeling very well satisfied with the evening. He might not wish to marry such an unsuitable lady, but he very much liked being friendly with her.
CHAPTER 25
Something is rotten…
HAMLET, ACT I, SCENE IV
When the company assembled again the next morning, Mr. Wickham very soon approached Elizabeth. After the revelations of the previous day, this gave her some discomfort. She did not like to appear thoughtless to Mr. Darcy, who suddenly seemed so likeable, but she could not be uncivil either. Mr. Wickham’s friendly greeting had to be acknowledged. And it was indeed very friendly, which made things all the more confusing.
“I made an interesting discovery yesterday evening,” he said. “It turned out that the dinner to which I was invited was at the home of your aunt and uncle. Two of your sisters were there as well – Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia. I had already made their acquaintance on Monday, but when we met yesterday, I did not make the connection. They are very cheerful young ladies. We had a merry time playing lottery tickets.”
He paused, and it was her turn to say something. Since she was hesitant to be happy about his apparent friendship with some of her family, a simple observation was all that came to mind. “That is their favourite game.”
“So I could tell. Miss Lydia played with particular enthusiasm. My seat was beside hers, and I almost felt myself neglected.”
He smiled amiably, which made Elizabeth feel sorry for doubting him. He really did seem very nice.
“But she is a delightful young lady, and Miss Kitty as well,” he continued saying. “I enjoyed their lively spirits very much. We had an excellent time. It only needed you and your sister to be there for the evening to be perfect. It is a great pity that you and Miss Bennet were here instead. I did not realize yesterday that you are staying here at Netherfield.” He lowered his voice. “I thought of you with sympathy more than once during our evening. I expect that yours was quite disagreeable with Mr. Darcy setting the tone.”
“It was actually quite pleasant” she said. “Mr. Darcy was not at all disagreeable, and Colonel Fitzwilliam is very friendly.”
Mr. Wickham looked a little taken aback, but he said, “Yes, he always was a friendly person. And Darcy does have the ability to make himself agreeable if he chooses. I am glad for your sake that he did. But your aunt missed your company yesterday. She said to tell you that she looks forward to seeing you once you are home again.”
He then said more about their evening, and how hospitable Mrs. Phillips had been, as well as graciously tolerant of Mr. Collins’s lack of skill at playing cards. As
her cousin was beside her and talking to Jane, Elizabeth feared that he might overhear, but a glance in his direction showed that he was too much immersed in his own conversation, which unsurprisingly appeared to be very one-sided.
So was her own. Uncertain what to think of Mr. Wickham, she was listening politely but not responding at any great length. He had the same cheerful, friendly manner which had been so pleasing to her yesterday, but today she was wondering if the reality behind this demeanor could be as Mr. Darcy had implied. Could Mr. Wickham be an unprincipled man hiding behind the appearance of goodness? A man respectable only in appearance but not in substance?
She was strangely inclined toward believing Mr. Darcy, but it should not be forgotten that he had established himself as a man of exceptionally high standards. He was certainly capable of defining unprincipled more narrowly than most people, and his ideas of respectability could easily be exclusive. But on the previous evening, she had felt an astonishing affinity with him, and that had left her with an inclination to trust.
This was all inexplicable, however. It could just be that she was putting too much confidence into Mr. Darcy just because of his sudden appearance of goodness. The same mistrust could also be applied to him; he could be the one who lacked principles and was now making an effort for the very purpose of concealing his character in response to a perceived threat.
One thing was certain: appearances could not be trusted. They could not be taken as the full evidence of a man’s character. Yesterday, she had been very willing to judge both men according to her impressions, but today she wanted better evidence.
As Mr. Wickham continued to describe the previous evening’s entertainment, Elizabeth assessed the evidence which had been made available to her. One man had told a detailed story; the other had been vague. Could Mr. Darcy’s obscurity have been caused by his having no valid grievance, or could the case be the opposite – that his grievances were not only valid, but also too distressing to discuss? Which was more honest: his reticence or Mr. Wickham’s openness?
And what of that gentleman’s willingness to share his grievances with a stranger. It had been done naturally enough under the representation of seeking her advice, but that could have been a guise. He might really have been seeking an immediate opportunity to present himself as the injured party for the purpose of gaining sympathy and support. Now that she considered the matter, it did seem that he had been excessively eager to tell his story.
Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, had been more concerned about his friend’s reputation than his own comfort. It had been clear that he did wish Mr. Wickham gone, but he had made no such demand, only a very reasonable request. Were he truly without principles, then surely he would have accepted Miss Bingley’s offer of dispatching Mr. Wickham without further ado. His willingness to sacrifice his own comfort for the benefit of a friend was sound evidence of good character.
One more piece of evidence now presented itself. Mr. Wickham was being excessively complementary of her family and a simple evening spent at the Phillips’s home. His manner now struck her as being quite unnatural.
He is too suave, Elizabeth thought. Too fulsome in his praise of my aunt and sisters. In fact, he reminds me of Mr. Collins, except for being far more articulate. That is a skill which could make it easy for a person to deceive.
A glib tongue. That is what he has. I believe he is trying very hard to make himself agreeable, which makes me more inclined to distrust the appearance of it. I think that there really is more honesty in a man like Mr. Darcy, who obviously thinks nothing of making good impressions.
Perhaps I am just jumping to conclusions, but I think it prudent to be very cautious of Mr. Wickham. It was foolish of me to be so hasty in accepting his overtures of friendship yesterday. I regret that now. And promising to be a friendly face. It seemed simple enough yesterday, but now I find myself in an awkward position. I must try very hard to limit the extent of our acquaintance, but how can that be done when he seems to be wanting to increase it?
CHAPTER 26
The good I stand on is my truth and honesty…
Henry viii, ACT V, SCENE I
She is talking to Wickham again, Mr. Darcy thought. They appear to be great friends. But naturally she likes him. He is charming, witty, and eloquent. He is everything that I am not.
But he is also much that I am happy not to be. Like devious and dishonest. I cannot imagine having so little regard for truth and honesty. He is feckless while I have a strong commitment to upholding my responsibilities. He is selfish and avaricious. I do not think that I am. Greed is not one of my vices.
But am I selfish? Do I think too much of my own concerns? Am I considerate enough of others? I wonder if Miss Elizabeth thinks that I am not. When we were talking about friendship last week, she seemed to think that I would not do much for a friend. She made that reference to pride and vanity as well. Does she think me proud and vain?
It is very unjust if she does. I have never been vain. That is exactly the sort of weakness I try to avoid. As for pride, it is justified by real superiority of mind. Come to think of it, I said that to her. And then she looked away. Was she laughing at me?
Does she think me insufferably proud? She really is determined to think ill of me. I do not know why I like her so much. But she is bewitching. Her manner is so delightful. Our conversations have been thought provoking. She has an interesting way of looking at things. Her perception is often excellent.
It is possible that I am insufferably proud? Does she misunderstand me, or does she understand me better than I do myself? Have I been making myself unlikeable?
No wonder she prefers him. But I do wish that she would not. I wish he were not so good at making such an excellent impression upon everybody he meets. I wish that she could somehow see his true character. I wish that she could believe me to be a great deal more than proud.
I wish he were not in this scene. The sooner he is off to the other room, the better. I must try to be perfect and hope that nobody else makes a mistake, or else Miss Bingley will extend my torment by having us repeat our lines. I wish that she and Mrs. Hurst would stop wasting time so that we may get started and soon be done with this scene.
He is of a very melancholy disposition.
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, ACT II, SCENE I
Good heavens, Colonel Fitzwilliam thought. Darcy is looking gloomy again. His expression is more suited to playing Don John than Benedick. And after we had such a pleasant evening last night. He and Miss Elizabeth were talking in such a friendly way, and without him needing much encouragement from me. It was even more than I had hoped for. I really thought that she was coming around nicely.
But now she is talking to Wickham again. I hope she is not too taken with him. Perhaps I should have told her a few truths about his character yesterday. That may yet be a good idea.
But perhaps her own judgement may settle the matter. I do not think she looks particularly pleased with his company. And he was the one who went up to her. She did not go looking for him. But did Darcy notice that?
Thank goodness Mr. Wickham is only briefly in this scene. And thank goodness he is not playing Balthazar. I do not think Darcy could have endured watching him dance with her.
…speaks an infinite deal of nothing.
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, ACT I, SCENE I
Lizzy was right, Jane thought. Mr. Collins does talk far too much. He is excessively proud of his parsonage and his patroness. I am quite fed up with hearing about them. If Lizzy had not already made up her mind to refuse him, I would insist that she must.
I feel sorry for the lady who does marry him. If Lady Catherine takes such an interest in his closets and shelves, she is very likely to interfere in all his domestic affairs. The mistress of Hunsford Parsonage will scarcely be able to call her home her own. And those evenings at Rosings sound very dull indeed. Imagine having to go anywhere in public with Mr. Collins. It would be too mortifying.
But being alone with him at hom
e would be even worse. Could any lady spend an entire evening listening to his voice hour after hour without going mad? Ten minutes is bad enough, but I am glad to do Lizzy the favour of sparing her from having to listen to him for a little while.
Ah, Miss Bingley beckons. I am needed for this scene. My reprieve is at hand.
It is my lady. It is my love. Oh, that she knew she were!
Romeo and juliet, ACT Ii, SCENE Ii
Poor Miss Bennet, Mr. Bingley thought. Mr. Collins could talk the hind leg off a donkey. And without ever saying anything that is worth listening to. I do not like to think ill of people, but he is a man with a mind too empty and a tongue too busy. I would have gone to her rescue if my sisters had not been wasting my time.
But she is free from him now. How pretty she looks this morning. I do love her so very much. There is nothing I want more than for her to be my wife. I am going to ask her to marry me as soon as possible.
Indeed, I might have done so already if Caroline and Louisa were not always hovering about. It is wonderful that they are so fond of her. That will make it easier for them to accept my choice. But I wish that they were not so attached to her. She is almost never out of their company, and I would rather not draw attention to myself by asking them to leave us to speak privately.
And what if she refused me? That would be embarrassing for both of us. Indeed, I should wait until after this play just to spare her any potential discomfort.
But these are silly thoughts. I am almost certain of it. There is such a strong connection between us. It is ridiculous to have any doubts. I am only thinking this way because proposing is a daunting business, but I do believe that she shares my affections. As soon as the moment is right, I shall ask her to marry me. And in the meantime, I am enjoying every moment in her company.
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