Pride and Prejudice - Vol 3, Chapters 9-11

This week on Net Worth and Chill, I'm taking you inside my sold out New York City book tour stop for my brand new book, Well Endowed. I sat down with the hilarious Heather McMahon for a night of laughs, real money talk and honest financial truths. We're getting into everything the book covers from how to actually build wealth, how to protect it and how to stop leaving money on the table. Whether you've already grabbed your copy of Well Endowed or you're still on the fence, this episode will show you exactly why everyone's talking about it. Listen wherever you get your podcasts or watch on youtube.com slash yourrichbff. Chapter 9 Their sister's wedding day arrived, and Jane and Elizabeth felt for her probably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to meet them, and they were to return to it by dinnertime. Their arrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennetts, and Jane more especially, who gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had she been the culprit, was wretched in the thought of what her sister must endure. They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast room to receive them. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet as the carriage drove up to the door. Her husband looked impenetrably grave, her daughters alarmed, anxious, uneasy. Lydia's voice was heard in the vestibule. The door was thrown open, and she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and welcomed her with rapture, gave her hand with an affectionate smile to Wickham, who followed his lady, and wished them both joy, with an alacrity which showed no doubt of their happiness. Their reception for Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quite so cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity, and he scarcely opened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was enough to provoke him. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet was shocked. Lydia was Lydia still, untamed, unabashed, wild, nosy, and fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their congratulations, and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and observed, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been there. Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself, but his manners were always so pleasing that had his character and his marriage been exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he claimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizabeth had not before believed him quite equal to such assurance, but she sat down, resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the imprudence of an imprudent man. She blushed, and Jane blushed, but the cheeks of the two who caused their confusion suffered no variation of color. There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither of them talk fast enough, and Wickham, who happened to sit near Elizabeth, began inquiring after his acquaintance in that neighborhood, with a good-humored ease, which she felt very unable to equal in her replies. "'They seemed, each of them, to have the happiest memories in the world. "'Nothing of the past was recollected with pain, "'and Lydia led voluntarily to subjects "'which her sisters would not have alluded to for the world. "'Only think of it being three months,' she cried, "'since I went away. "'It seems but a fortnight, I declare, "'and yet there have been things enough happened in the time. "'Good gracious, when I went away, "'I am sure I had no more idea of being married "'till I came back again. though I thought it would be very good fun if I was. Her father lifted up his eyes. Jane was distressed. Elizabeth looked expressively at Lydia, but she, who never heard nor saw anything of which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, Oh, Mama, do the people hereabouts know I'm married today? I was afraid they might not. And we overtook William Goulding in his curical, so I was determined he should know it, and so I let down the side glass next to him, and took off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window frame, so that he might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like anything. Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up and ran out of the room, and returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall to the dining parlor. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with anxious parade, walk up to her mother's right hand, and hear her say to her eldest sister, "'Ah, Jane, I take your place now, and you must go lower, because I am a married woman.' It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrassment from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good spirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Phillips, the Lucases, and all their other neighbors, and to hear herself called Mrs. Wickham by each of them. And in the meantime she went after dinner to show her ring and boast of being married to Mrs. Hill and the two housemates. Well, Mama, said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast room, and what do you think of my husband? Is not he a charming man? I am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half my good luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get husbands. What a pity it is, Mama, we did not all go. Very true, and if I had my will, we should. But, my dear Lydia, I don't at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so? Oh, Lord, yes, there is nothing in that. I shall like it, of all things. You and Papa and my sisters must come down and see us. We shall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some balls, and I will take care to get good partners for them all. I should like it beyond anything, said her mother. And then, when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters behind you, and I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the winter is over. I thank you for my share of the favor, said Elizabeth, but I do not particularly like your way of getting husbands. Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickham had received his commission before he left London, and he was to join his regiment at the end of a fortnight. No one but Mrs. Bennet regretted that their stay would be so short, and she made the most of the time by visiting about with her daughter and having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to all. To avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did think than such as did not. Wickham's affection for Lydia was just what Elizabeth had expected to find it, not equal to Lydia's for him. She had scarcely needed her present observation to be satisfied from the reason of things, that their elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love rather than by his, and she would have wondered why, without violently caring for her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain that his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances, and if that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity of having a companion. Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every occasion. No one was to be put in competition with him. He did everything best in the world, and she was sure he would kill more birds on the first of September than anybody else in the country. One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two elder sisters, she said to Elizabeth, "'Lizzy, I never gave you an account of my wedding, I believe. You were not by when I told Mama and the others all about it. Are not you curious to hear how it was managed?' "'No, really,' replied Elizabeth. "'I think there cannot be too little said on the subject.' "'Ah, you are so strange, but I must tell you how it went off. We were married, you know, at St. Clement's, because Wickham's lodgings were in that parish, and it was settled that we should all be there by eleven o'clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together, and the others were to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such a fuss. I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to put it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching, and talking away, just as if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed to know whether he would be married in his blue coat. Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual. I thought it would never be over, for, by the by, you are to understand that my uncle and aunt were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you'll believe me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a fortnight. Not one party or scheme or anything. To be sure, London was rather thin, but however the little theatre was open. Well, and so just as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon business to that horrid man, Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened, I did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away. And if we were beyond the hour, we could not be married all day. but luckily he came back again in ten minutes time and then we all set out however i recollected afterwards that if he had been prevented going the wedding need not be put off for mr darcy might have done as well mr darcy repeated elizabeth in utter amazement oh yes he was to come there with wickham you know but gracious me i quite forgot i ought not to have said a word about it i promise them so faithfully. What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret. If it was to be secret, said Jane, say not another word on the subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further. Oh, certainly, said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity, we will ask you no questions. Thank you, said Lydia, for if you did, I should certainly tell you all, and then Wickham would be angry. On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her power. "'by running away.' "'But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible, "'or at least it was impossible not to try for information. "'Mr. Darcy had been at her sister's wedding. "'It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people, "'where he had apparently least to do, "'and least temptation to go. "'Conjectures as to the meaning of it, "'rapid and wild, hurried into her brain, "'but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She could not bear such suspense, and hastily seizing a sheet of paper, wrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of what Lydia had dropped, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been intended. You may readily comprehend she added what my curiosity must be to know how a person unconnected with any of us and comparatively speaking a stranger to our family should have been amongst you at such a time Pray write instantly and let me understand it unless it is for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems to think necessary, and then I must endeavor to be satisfied with ignorance. Not that I shall, though, she added to herself, as she finished the letter, and, my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honorable manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it out. Jane's delicate sense of honor would not allow her to speak to Elizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall. Elizabeth was glad of it. Till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive any satisfaction, she had rather be without a confidant. Chapter 10 Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter as soon as she possibly could. She was no sooner in possession of it than hurrying into the little copse, where she was least likely to be interrupted. She sat down on one of the benches and prepared to be happy, for the length of the letter convinced her that it did not contain a denial. Grace Church Street, September 6th My dear niece, I have just received your letter, and she'll devote this whole morning to answering it, as I foresee that a little writing will not comprise what I have to tell you. I must confess myself surprised by your application. I did not expect it from you. Don't think me angry, however, for I only mean to let you know that I had not imagined such inquiries to be necessary on your side. If you do not choose to understand me, forgive my impertinence. Your uncle is as much surprised as I am, and nothing but the belief of your being a party concerned would have allowed him to act as he has done. But if you are really innocent and ignorant, I must be more explicit. On the very day of my coming home from Longbourn, your uncle had a most unexpected visitor. Mr. Darcy called and was shut up with him several hours. It was all over before I arrived, so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked as yours seems to have been. He came to tell Mr. Gardner that he had found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were, and that he had seen and talked with them both, Wickham repeatedly Lydia once. From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day after ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting for them. The motive professed was his conviction of its being owing to himself that Wickham's worthlessness had not been so well known as to make it impossible for any young woman of character to love or confide in him. He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken pride, and confessed that he had before thought it beneath him to lay his private actions open to the world. His character was to speak for itself. He called it, therefore, his duty to step forward and endeavor to remedy an evil which had been brought on by himself. If he had another motive, I am sure it would never disgrace him. He had been some days in town before he was able to discover them, but he had something to direct his search, which was more than we had, and the consciousness of this was another reason for his resolving to follow us. There is a lady, it seems, a Mrs. Young, who was some time ago governess to Miss Darcy, and was dismissed from her charge on some cause, though he did not say what. She then took a large house at Edward Street, and has since maintained herself by letting lodgings. This Mrs. Young was, he knew, intimately acquainted with Wickham, and he went to her for intelligence of him as soon as he got to town. But it was two or three days before he could get from her what he wanted. She would not betray her trust, I suppose, without bribery and corruption, for she really did know where her friend was to be found. Wickham indeed had gone to her on their first arrival in London. and had she been able to receive them into her house, they would have taken up their abode with her. At length, however, our kind friend procured the wished-for direction. He saw Wickham, and afterwards insisted on seeing Lydia. His first object with her, he acknowledged, had been to persuade her to quit her present disgraceful situation, and return to her friends as soon as they could be prevailed on to receive her, offering his assistance, as far as it would go. But he found Lydia absolutely resolved on remaining where she was. She cared for none of her friends. She wanted no help of his. She would not hear of leaving Wickham. She was sure they should be married sometime or other, and it did not much signify when. Since such were her feelings, it only remained, he thought, to secure and expedite a marriage, which, in his first conversation with Wickham, he easily learned, had never been his design. He confessed himself obliged to leave the regiment, on account of some debts of honor, which were very pressing, and scrupled not to lay all the ill consequences of Lydia's flight on her own folly alone. He meant to resign his commission immediately, and as to his future situation, he could conjecture very little about it. He must go somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew he should have nothing to live on. Mr. Dorsey asked him why he had not married your sister at once. Though Mr. Bennett was not imagined to be very rich, he would have been able to do something for him, and his situation must have been benefited by marriage. But he found in reply to this question that Wickham still cherished the hope of more effectually making his fortune by marriage, in some other country. Under such circumstances, however, he was not likely to be proof against the temptation of immediate relief. They met several times, for there was much to be discussed. Wickham, of course, wanted more than he could get, but at length was reduced to be reasonable. Everything being settled between them, Mr. Darcy's next step was to make your uncle acquainted with it, and he first called in Grace Church Street the evening before I came home. But Mr. Gardiner could not be seen, and Mr. Darcy found, on further inquiry, that your father was still with him, but would quit town the next morning. "'He did not judge your father to be a person whom could be so properly consult as your uncle, "'and therefore readily postpone seeing him till after the departure of the former. "'He did not leave his name, until the next day it was only known that a gentleman had called on business. "'On Saturday he came again. Your father was gone, your uncle at home, "'and, as I said before, they did a great deal of talk together. "'They met again on Sunday, and then I saw him too. It was not all settled before Monday. As soon as it was, the express was sent off to Longbourn. But our visitor was very obstinate. I fancy, Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real defect of his character, after all. He has been accused of many faults at different times, but this is the true one. Nothing was to be done that he did not do himself. Though I am sure, and I do not speak it, to be thanked, therefore saying nothing about it, your uncle would most readily have settled the whole. They battled it together for a long time, which was more than either the gentleman or lady concerned in it deserved. But at last your uncle was forced to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to his niece, was forced to put up with only having the profitable credit of it, which went sorely against the grain. And I really believe your letter this morning gave him great pleasure, because it required an explanation that would rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give the praise where it was due. But, Lizzy, this must go no farther than yourself or Jane at most. You know pretty well, I suppose, what has been done for the young people. His debts are to be paid, amounting, I believe, to considerably more than a thousand pounds, another thousand in addition to her own settled upon her, and his commission purchased. The reason why all this was to be done by him alone was such as I have given above. It was owing to him, to his reserve and want of proper consideration, that Wickham's character had been so misunderstood, and consequently that he had been received and noticed as he was. Perhaps there was some truth in this, though I doubt whether his reserve, or anybody's reserve, can be answerable for the event. But in spite of all this fine talking, my dear Lizzy, you may rest perfectly assured that your uncle would never have yielded if we had not given him credit for another interest in the affair. When all this was resolved on, he returned again to his friends, who were still staying at Pemberley. But it was agreed that he should be in London once more when the wedding took place, and all the money matters were then to receive the last finish. I believe I have now told you everything. It is a relation which, you tell me, is to give you great surprise. I hope at least it will not afford you any displeasure. Lydia came to us, and Wickham had constant admission to the house. He was exactly what he had been when I knew him in Hertfordshire, but I would not tell you how little I was satisfied with her behavior while she stayed with us, if I had not perceived, by Jane's letter last Wednesday, that her conduct on coming home was exactly of a piece with it, and therefore what I now tell you can give you no fresh pain. I talked to her repeatedly in the most serious manner, representing to her all the wickedness of what she had done, and all the unhappiness she had brought on her family. "'If she heard me, it was by good luck, for I am sure she did not listen. "'I was sometimes quite provoked, but then I recollected my dear Elizabeth and Jane, "'and for their sakes had patience with her. "'Mr. Darcy was punctual in his return, and as Lydie informed you, attended the wedding. "'He dined with us the next day, and was to leave town again on Wednesday or Thursday. "'Will you be very angry with me, my dear Lizzie, if I take this opportunity of saying what I was never bold enough to say before, how much I like him. His behavior to us has, in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire. His understanding and opinions all please me. He wants nothing but a little more liveliness, and that, if he marry prudently, his wife may teach him. I thought him very sly. He hardly ever mentioned your name, but slyness seems the fashion. Pray forgive me if I have been very presuming, or at least do not punish me so far as to exclude me from Pemberley. I shall never be quite happy till I have been all round the park. A low Phaeton, with a nice little pair of ponies, would be the very thing. But I must write no more. The children have been wanting me this half hour. Yours very sincerely, M. Gardner. The contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into a flutter of spirits, in which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the greatest share. The vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had produced of what Mr. Darcy might have been doing to forward her sister's match, which she had feared to encourage as an exertion of goodness too great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be just from the pain of obligation were proved beyond their greatest extent to be true He had followed them purposely to town He had taken on himself all the trouble and mortification attendant on such a research "'in which supplication had been necessary to a woman whom he must abominate and despise, "'and where he was reduced to meet, frequently meet, reason with, persuade, and finally bribe "'the man whom he always most wished to avoid, "'and whose very name it was punishment to him to pronounce. "'He had done all this for a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem. "'Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her. "'But it was a hope shortly checked by other considerations, "'and she soon felt that even her vanity was insufficient "'when required to depend on his affection for her, "'for a woman who had already refused him "'as able to overcome a sentiment so natural as abhorrence "'against relationship with Wickham, "'brother-in-law of Wickham. Every kind of pride must revolt from the connection. He had, to be sure, done much. She was ashamed to think how much. But he had given a reason for his interference, which asked no extraordinary stretch of belief. It was reasonable that he should feel he had been wrong. He had liberality, and he had the means of exercising it. And though she would not place herself as his principal inducement, she could, perhaps, believe that remaining partiality for her might assist his endeavors in a cause where her peace of mind must be materially concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that they were under obligations to a person who could never receive a return. They owed the restoration of Lydia, her character, everything to him. Oh, how heartily did she grieve over every ungracious sensation she had ever encouraged, every saucy speech she had ever directed towards him. For herself she was humbled, but she was proud of him, proud that in a cause of compassion and honor he had been able to get the better of himself. She read over her aunt's commendation of him again and again. It was hardly enough, but it pleased her. She was even sensible of some pleasure, though mixed with regret, on finding how steadfastly both she and her uncle had been persuaded that affection and confidence subsisted between Mr. Darcy and herself. she was roused from her seat and her reflections by someone's approach and before she could strike into another path she was overtaken by wickham i am afraid i interrupt your solitary ramble my dear sister said he as he joined her you certainly do she replied with a smile but it does not follow that the interruption must be unwelcome i should be sorry indeed if it were we were always good friends and now we are better. True. Are the others coming out? I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are going in the carriage to Meryton. And so, my dear sister, I find from our uncle and aunt that you have actually seen Pemberley. She replied in the affirmative. I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I believe it would be too much for me or else I could take it in my way to Newcastle. And you saw the old housekeeper, I suppose. Poor Reynolds. She was always very fond of me. But, of course, she did not mention my name to you. Yes, she did. And what did she say? That you were gone into the army, and she was afraid had not turned out well. At such a distance as that, you know, things are strangely misrepresented. Certainly, he replied, biting his lips. Elizabeth hoped she had silenced him. But he soon afterwards said, I was surprised to see Darcy in town last month. "'we passed each other several times. "'I wonder what he can be doing there.' "'Perhaps preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh,' said Elizabeth. "'It must be something particular to take him there at this time of year.' "'Undoubtedly. "'Did you see him while you were at Lambton? "'I thought I understood from the gardeners that you had. "'Yes, he introduced us to his sister. "'And do you like her? "'Very much. "'I have heard indeed that she is uncommonly improved within this year or two. When I last saw her, she was not very promising. I'm very glad you liked her. I hope she will turn out well. I dare say she will. She has got over the most trying age. Did you go by the village of Kempton? I do not recollect that we did. I mention it because it is the living which I ought to have had. A most delightful place. Excellent parsonage house. It would have suited me in every respect. How should you have liked making sermons? "'Exceedingly well. I should have considered it as part of my duty, and the exertion would soon have been nothing. One ought not to repine, but to be sure it would have been such a thing for me. The quiet, the retirement of such a life, would have answered all my ideas of happiness. But it was not to be. Did you ever hear Darcy mention the circumstance when you were in Kent? I have heard from authority, which I thought is good, that it was left to you conditionally only, and at the will of the present patron. You have. Yes, there was something in that. I told you so from the first. You may remember. I did hear, too, that there was a time when sermon-making was not so palatable to you as it seems to be at present, that you actually declared your resolution of never taking orders, and that the business had been compromised accordingly. You did, and it was not wholly without foundation. You may remember what I told you on that point when we first talked of it. They were now almost at the door of the house, for she had walked fast to get rid of him, and unwilling for her sister's sake to provoke him, she only said in reply with a good-humoured smile, Come, Mr. Wickham, we are brother and sister, you know. Do not let us quarrel about the past. In future, I hope, we shall be always of one mind. She held out her hand. He kissed it with affectionate gallantry, though he hardly knew how to look, and they entered the house. Chapter 11 Mr. Wickham was so perfectly satisfied with this conversation that he never again distressed himself or provoked his dear sister Elizabeth by introducing the subject of it, and she was pleased to find that she had said enough to keep him quiet. The day of his and Lydia's departure soon came, and Mrs. Bennet was forced to submit to a separation, which, as her husband by no means entered into her scheme of their going to Newcastle, was likely to continue at least a twelve-month. "'Oh, my dear Lydia,' she cried, "'when shall we meet again?' "'Oh, Lord, I don't know, not these two or three years, perhaps. "'Write to me very often, my dear. "'As often as I can, "'but you know married women have never much time for writing. "'My sisters may write to me. "'They will have nothing else to do.' Mr. Wickham's adeus were much more affectionate than his wife's. He smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things. He is as fine a fellow, said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they were out of the house, as ever I saw. He simpers and smirks and makes love to us all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas himself to produce a more valuable son-in-law. The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days. "'I often think,' said she, "'that there is nothing so bad as parting with one's friends. "'One seems so forlorn without them.' "'This is the consequence, you see, madam, "'of marrying a daughter,' said Elizabeth. "'It must make you better satisfied "'that your other four are single.' "'It is no such thing. "'Lydia does not leave me because she is married, "'but only because her husband's regiment "'happens to be so far off. "'If that had been nearer, "'she would not have gone so soon. But the spiritless condition which this event threw her into was shortly relieved, and her mind opened again to the agitation of hope by an article of news which then began to be in circulation. The housekeeper at Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the arrival of her master, who was coming down in a day or two to shoot there for several weeks. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. She looked at Jane and smiled, and shook her head by turns. Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister, for Mrs. Phillips first brought her the news. Well, so much the better. Not that I care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am sure I never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcome to come to Netherfield, if he likes it, and who knows what may happen. But that is nothing to us. You know, sister, we agreed long ago never to mention a word about it, "'and so it is quite certain he is coming?' "'You may depend on it,' replied the other, "'for Mrs. Nichols was in Meryton last night. "'I saw her passing by and went out myself on purpose to know the truth of it, "'and she told me that it was certain true. "'He comes down on Thursday at the latest, very likely on Wednesday. "'She was going to the butcher's, she told me, "'on purpose to order in some meat on Wednesday, "'and she's got three couple of ducks, just fit to be killed.' Miss Bennet had not been able to hear of his coming without changing color. It was many months since she had mentioned his name to Elizabeth, but now, as soon as they were alone together, she said, I saw you look at me today, Lizzie, when my aunt told us of the present report, and I know I appeared distressed. But don't imagine it was from any silly cause. I was only confused for a moment, because I felt that I should be looked at. I do assure you that the news does not affect me, either with pleasure or pain. I am glad of one thing, that he comes alone, because we shall see the less of him. Not that I am afraid of myself, but I dread other people's remarks. Elizabeth did not know what to make of it. Had she not seen him in Derbyshire, she might have supposed him capable of coming there, with no other view than what was acknowledged. But she still thought him partial to Jane. and she wavered as to the greater probability of his coming there with his friend's permission, or being bold enough to come without it. Yet it is hard, she sometimes thought, that this poor man cannot come to a house which he has legally hired, without raising all this speculation. I will leave him to himself. In spite of what her sister declared, and really believed to be her feelings, in the expectation of his arrival, Elizabeth could easily perceive that her spirits were affected by it. They were more disturbed, more unequal, than she had often seen them. The subject, which had been so warmly canvassed between their parents about a twelve month ago, was now brought forward again. As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my dear, said Mrs. Bennet, you will wait on him, of course. No, no, you forced me into visiting him last year, and promised if I went to see him he should marry one of my daughters. it ended in nothing and I will not be sent on a fool errand again wife represented to him how absolutely necessary such an attention would be from all the neighboring gentlemen on his returning to Netherfield an etiquette I despise said he "'If he wants our society, let him seek it. He knows where we live. I will not spend my hours in running after my neighbors 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 in the Gouldings soon. That will make thirteen with ourselves, so there'll be just room at table for him. Consoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear her husband's incivility, though it was very mortifying to know that her neighbors might all see Mr. Bingley in consequence of it before they did. as the day of his arrival drew near. I begin to be sorry that he comes at all, said Jane to her sister. It would be nothing. I could see him with perfect indifference, but I can hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. My mother means well, but she does not know. No one can know how much I suffer from what she says. Happy shall I be when his stay at Netherfield is over. I wish I could say anything to comfort you, replied Elizabeth, but it is wholly out of my power. You must feel it, and the usual satisfaction of preaching patience to a sufferer is denied me, because you have always so much. 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, Mama,' 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. Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise and concern. She knew but little of their meeting in Derbyshire, and therefore felt for the awkwardness which must attend her sister in seeing him almost for the first time after receiving his explanatory letter. Both sisters were uncomfortable enough. Each felt for the other, and of course for themselves, and their mother talked on of her dislike of Mr. Darcy and her resolution to be civil to him, only as Mr. Bingley's friend, without being heard by either of them. But Elizabeth had sources of uneasiness which could not be suspected by Jane, to whom she had never yet had courage to show Mrs. Gardiner's letter, or to relate her own change of sentiment towards him. To Jane he could be only a man whose proposals she had refused, and whose merit she had undervalued. But to her own more extensive information, he was the person to whom the whole family were indebted for the first of benefits, and whom she regarded herself with an interest if not quite so tender, at least as reasonable and just, as what Jane felt for Bingley. Her astonishment at his coming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again, was almost equal to what she had known on first witnessing his altered behavior in Derbyshire. "'The colour, which had been driven from her face, "'returned for half a minute with an additional glow, "'and a smile of delight added luster to her eyes, "'as she thought for that space of time "'that his affection and wishes must still be unshaken, "'but she would not be secure. "'Let me first see how he behaves,' said she. "'It will then be early enough for expectation.' "'She sat intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring to lift up her eyes, till anxious curiosity carried them to the face of her sister, as the servant was approaching the door. Jane looked a little paler than usual, but more sedate than Elizabeth had expected. On the gentleman's appearing, her color increased, yet she received them with tolerable ease and with a propriety of behavior, equally free from any symptom of resentment or any necessary complacence. Elizabeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down again to her work, with an eagerness which it did not often command. She had ventured only one glance at Darcy. He looked serious, as usual, and she thought, more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire than as she had seen him at Pemberley. But perhaps he could not in her mother's presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was a painful but not improbable conjecture. bingley she had likewise seen for an instant and in that short period saw him looking both pleased and embarrassed he was received by mrs bennett with a degree of civility which made her two daughters ashamed especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of her curtsy and address to his friend elizabeth particularly who knew that her mother owed to the latter the preservation of her favorite daughter from irremediable infamy was hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill-applied. Darcy, after inquiring of her how Mr. and Mrs. Gardner did, a question which she could not answer without confusion, said scarcely anything. He was not seated by her. Perhaps that was the reason of his silence, but it had not been so in Derbyshire. There he had talked to her friends when he could not to herself. But now several minutes elapsed, without bringing the sound of his voice. And when occasionally, unable to resist the impulse of curiosity, she raised her eyes to his face, she has often found him looking at Jane, as at herself, and frequently on no object but the ground. More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please than when they last met were plainly expressed. She was disappointed and angry with herself for being so. "'Could I expect it to be otherwise?' said she. "'Yet why did he come?' She was in no humor for conversation with anyone but himself, and to him she had hardly courage to speak. She inquired after his sister but could do no more. "'It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away,' said Mrs. Bennet. He readily agreed to it. "'I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People did say you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas, but, however, I hope it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighborhood since you went away. "'Miss Lucas is married and settled, and one of my own daughters, I suppose you have heard of it. "'Indeed, you must have seen it in the papers. "'It was in the Times and the Courier, I know, though it was not put in as it ought to be. "'It was only said, lately, George Wickham, Esquire, to Miss Lydia Bennet, "'without there being a syllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or anything. "'It was my brother Gardner's drawing up, too, "'and I wonder how he came to make such an awkward business of it. "'Did you see it?' "'Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. "'Elizabeth dared not lift up her eyes. "'How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could not tell. "'It is a delightful thing to be sure to have a daughter well married,' "'continued her mother. "'But at the same time, Mr. Bingley, "'it is very hard to have her taken such away from me. "'They are gone down to Newcastle, "'a place quite northward, it seems, "'and there they are to stay. "'I do not know how long. His regiment is there, for I suppose you have heard of his leaving, and of his being gone into the regulars. Thank heavens! He has some friends, though, perhaps not so many as he deserves. Elizabeth, who knew this to be leveled at Mr. Darcy, was in such misery of shame that she could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her, however, the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually done before. And she asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay in the country at present. A few weeks, he believed. When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley, said her mother, I beg you will come here and shoot as many as you please on Mr. Bennet's manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, and will save all the best of the coveys for you. Elizabeth's misery increased at such unnecessary, such officious attention. Were the same fair prospect to arise at present as had flattered them a year ago, everything, she was persuaded, would be hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant she felt that years of happiness could not make Jane or herself amends for moments of such painful confusion. The first wish of my heart, said she to herself, is never more to be in company with either of them. Their society can afford no pleasure that will atone for such wretchedness as this. Let me never see either one or the other again. yet the misery for which years of happiness were to offer no compensation received soon afterwards material relief from observing how much the beauty of her sister rekindled the admiration of her former lover when first he came in he had spoken to her but little but every five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention he found her as handsome as she had been last year as good natured, and as unaffected, though not quite so chatty. Jane was anxious that no difference should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuaded that she talked as much as ever. But her mind was so busily engaged that she did not always know when she was silent. When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of her intended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at Longbourn in a few days' time. "'You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley,' she added, "'for when you went to town last winter, "'you promised to take a family dinner with us as soon as you returned. "'I have not forgot, you see, and I assure you I was very much disappointed "'that you did not come back and keep your engagement.' Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection "'and said something of his concern at having been prevented by business. "'They then went away. Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine there that day, but though Showies kept a very good table, she did not think anything less than two courses could be good enough for a man on whom she had such anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and pride of one who had ten thousand a year.