Pride and Prejudice - Vol 2, Chapters 17-19

Megan Rapinoe here. This week on A Touch More, Juju Watkins joins us to talk about her year off of the court, but definitely not on the sidelines. We're also looking at the upsets coming out of the SEC tournament and how that might impact Selection's Sunday and the intergenerational span of US players on display at the She Believes Cup. Plus, we have a surprise guest. You won't want to miss it. Check out the latest episode of our podcast, A Touch More, wherever you get your podcasts and on YouTube. Chapter 17 Elizabethan patience to acquaint Jane with what had happened could no longer be overcome. And at length, resolving to suppress every particular in which her sister was concerned and preparing her to be surprised. She related her the next morning, the chief of the scene between Mr. Darcy and herself. Miss Bennett's astonishment was soon lessened by the strong, sisterly partiality, which made any admiration of Elizabeth appear perfectly natural. And all surprise was shortly lost in other feelings. She was sorry that Mr. Darcy should have delivered his sentiments in a manner so little suited to recommend them. But still more was she grieved for the unhappiness, which her sister's refusal must have given him. His being so sure of succeeding was wrong, said she, and certainly ought not to have appeared. But consider how much it must increase his disappointment. Indeed, reply to Elizabeth. I am heartily sorry for him. But he has other feelings, which will probably soon drive away his regard for me. You do not blame me, however, for refusing him. Blame you. Oh, no. But you blame me for having spoken so warmly of Wickham. No, I do not know that you are wrong in saying what you did. But you will know it when I have told you what happened the very next day. She then spoke of the letter, repeating the whole of its contents, as far as they concerned George Wickham. What a stroke was this for poor Jane, who had willingly have gone through the world without believing that so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind, as was here collected in one individual. Nor was Darcy's vindication, though grateful to her feelings, capable of consoling her for such discovery. Most earnestly, did she labor to prove the probability of error, and seek to clear one without involving the other? This will not do, said Elizabeth. You never will be able to make both of them good for anything. Take your choice, but you must be satisfied with only one. There is but such a quantity of merit between them, just enough to make one good sort of man, and of late it has been shifting about pretty much. For my part, I am inclined to believe it all, Mr. Darcy's, but you shall do as you choose. It was some time, however, before a smile could be extorted from Jane. I do not know when I have been more shocked, said she. Wickham so very bad, it has almost passed belief. And poor Mr. Darcy, dear Lizzie, only consider what he must have suffered, such a disappointment, and with the knowledge of your ill-opinion too, and having to relate such a thing of his sister, it is really too distressing. I am sure you must feel it so. Oh, no, my regret and compassion are all done away by seeing you so full of both. I know you will do him such ample justice, that I am growing every moment, more unconcerned and indifferent. Your profusion makes me saving, and if you lament over him much longer, my heart will be as light as a feather. Poor Wickham, there is such an expression of goodness and accountance, such an openness and gentleness in his manner. There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of those two young men, one has got all the goodness and the other, all the appearance of it. I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient in the appearance of it, as he used to do. And yet, I meant to be uncommonly clever in taking so decided to dislike to him, without any reason. It is such a spur to one's genius, such an opening for wit to have a dislike of that kind. One may be continually abusive without saying anything just, but one cannot be always laughing at a man without now and then stumbling on something witty. Lizzie, when you first read that letter, I am sure you could not treat the matter as you do now. Indeed, I could not. I was uncomfortable enough. I was very uncomfortable. I may say unhappy, and with no one to speak to of what I felt, no Jane to comfort me and say that I had not been so very weak and vain and nonsensical as I knew I had. Oh, how I wanted you. How unfortunate that you should have used such very strong expressions in speaking of Wickham to Mr. Darcy, for now they do appear wholly undeserved. Certainly, but the misfortune of speaking with bitterness is the most natural consequence of the prejudices I have been encouraging. There is one point on which I want your advice. I want to be told whether I ought or ought not to make our acquaintance in general understand Wickham's character. Mr. Bennett paused so little and then replied, surely there can be no occasion for exposing him so dreadfully. What is your opinion? That it ought not to be attempted. Mr. Darcy has not authorized me to make his communication public. On the contrary, every particular relative to his sister was meant to be kept as much as possible to myself, and if I endeavour to undecieve people as to the rest of his conduct, who will believe me? The general prejudice against Mr. Darcy is so violent that it would be the depth of half the good people in Meriton to attempt to place him in an amiable light. I am not equal to it. Wickham will soon be gone, and therefore it will not signify to anybody here what he really is. Sometimes hence it will be all found out, and then we may laugh at their stupidity and not knowing it before. That present I will say nothing about it. You are quite right to have his errors made public might ruin him forever. He is now perhaps, sorry for what he has done, and anxious to reestablish a character. We must not make him desperate. The tumult of Elizabeth's mind was allied by this conversation. She had got rid of two of the secrets which had weighed on her for fortnight, and was certain of a willing listener and jane whenever she might wish to talk again of either. But there was still something lurking behind, of which prudence forbade the disclosure. She dared not relate the other half of Mr. Darcy's letter, nor explained to her sister how sincerely she had been valued by his friend. Here was knowledge in which no one could partake, and she was sensible that nothing less than a perfect understanding between the parties could justify her in throwing off this last incumbrance of mystery. And then said she, if that very improbable event should ever take place, I shall merely be able to tell what Mr. Bingley may tell in a much more agreeable manner himself. The liberty of communication cannot be mine till it has lost all its value. She was now, on being settled at home, at leisure to observe the real state of her sister's spirits. Jane was not happy. She still cherished a very tender affection for Bingley, having never even fancied herself in love before, her regard at all the warmth the first attachment, and from her age and disposition greater steadiness than first attachments often boast. And so fervently did she value his remembrance and prefer him to every other man, that all her good sense and all her attention to the feelings of her friends were requisite to check the indulgence of those regrets, which must have been injurious to her own health and their tranquility. Well, Lizzy said Mrs. Bennett one day, what is your opinion now of the sad business of James? For my part, I am determined never to speak of it again to anybody. I told my sister Philip so the other day, but I cannot find out that James saw anything of him in London. Well, he is a very undeserving young man, and I do not suppose there is the least chance in the world of her ever getting him now. There's no talk of his coming to Netherfield again in the summer, and I have inquired of everybody too who is likely to know. I do not believe that he will ever live at Netherfield anymore. Oh well, it is just as he chooses. Nobody wants him to come, though I shall always say that he used my daughter extremely ill, and if I was her, I would not have put up with it. Well, my comfort is, I am sure Jane will die of a broken heart, and then he will be sorry for what he has done. But as Elizabeth could not receive comfort from any such expectation, she may know answer. Well, Lizzie continued her mother soon afterwards, and so the callons is the very comfortable do they? Well, I only hope it will last. And what sort of table do they keep? Charlotte is an excellent manager, I dare say. If she is half as sharp as her mother, she is saving enough. There is nothing extravagant in their housekeeping, I dare say. No, nothing at all. A great deal of good management depend on it. Yes, yes. They will take care not to outrun their income. They will never be distressed for money. Well, much good may it do them. And so I suppose they often talk of having longboard when your father is dead. They look upon it quite as their own, I dare say, whenever that happens. It was a subject which they could not mention before me. No, it would have been strange if they had. But I make no doubt, they often talk of it between themselves. Well, if they can be easy with an estate that is not lawfully their own so much the better, I should be ashamed of having one that was only entailed on me. Chapter 18 The first week of their return was soon gone. The second began. It was the last of the regiments stay in Meriton and all the young ladies in the neighborhood were drooping a pace. The ejection was almost universal. The elder Miss Bennett's alone were still able to eat, drink and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. Very frequently were they were approached for this insensibility by Kitty and Lydia, whose own misery was extreme, and who could not comprehend such hardheartedness in any of the family. Chapter 18 Good Heaven, what has to become of us? What are we to do? Would they often exclaim in the bitterness of woe? How can you be smiling so Lizzie? Their affectionate mother shared all their grief, she remembered what she had herself endured on a similar occasion five and twenty years ago. I am sure said she. I cried for two days together when Colonel Miller's regiment went away. I thought I should have broke my heart. I am sure I shall break mine, said Lydia. If one could but go to Brighton, observed Mrs. Bennett. Oh yes, if one could but go to Brighton, but Papa so disagreeable, a little sea bathing would set me up forever. And my aunt Phillips, as sure it would do me a great deal of good at it, Kitty. Such were the kind of lamentations resounding perpetually through Longborn House. Elizabeth tried to be diverted by them, but all sense of pleasure was lost in shame. She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy's objections, and never had she before been so disposed to pardon his interference in the views of his friend. But the gloom of Lydia's prospect was shortly cleared away. For she received an invitation from Mrs. Forrester, the wife of the Colonel of the regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a very young woman and very lately married. A resemblance and good humor and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other. And out of their three months acquaintance they had been intimate, too. The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forrester, the delight of Mrs. Bennett and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely to be described. Holy and attentive to her sister's feelings, Lydia flew about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for everyone's congratulations and laughing and talking with more violence than ever. While the luckless Kitty continued in the parlor repining at her fate in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish, I cannot see why Mrs. Forrester should not ask me as well as Lydia said she, though I am not her particular friend, I have just as much right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older. In vain did Elizabeth attempt to make her reasonable and jean to make her resigned. As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far from exciting in her, the same feelings as in her mother and Lydia, that she considered it as the death ward of all possibility of common sense for the latter. And detestable as such a step must make her were at known, she could not help secretly advising her father not to let her go. She represented him all the improprieties of Lydia's general behavior. The little advantage she could derive from the friendship of such a woman as Mrs. Forrester, and the probability of her being get more imprudent was such a companion at Brighton, where the temptations must be greater than at home. He heard her attentively and then said, Lydia will never be easy till she has exposed herself in some public place or other, and we can never expect her to do it, with so little expense or inconvenience her family as under the present circumstances. If you were aware, said Elizabeth, of the very great disadvantage to us all, which must arise from the public notice of Lydia's unguarded and imprudent manner, Nay, which has already arisen from it, I am sure you would judge differently in the affair. Already arisen repeated Mr. Bennett, what has she frightened away some of your lovers? Poor little Lizzy, but do not be cast down, such squeamish use as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity are not worth a regret. Come, let me see the list of the pitiful fellows who have been kept aloof by Lydia's folly. Indeed you are mistaken, I have no such injuries to resent. It is not of peculiar but of general evils which I am now complaining. Our importance, our respectability in the world, must be affected by the wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark Lydia's character. Excuse me, for I must speak plainly. If you, my dear father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits and of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character will be fixed and she will at 16 be the most determined flirt that ever made herself and her family ridiculous. A flirt too in the worst and meanest degree of flirtation, without any attraction beyond youth and a tolerable person, and from the ignorance and emptiness of her mind wholly unable to ward off any portion of that universal contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In the stanger, Kitty is also comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads. Vane, ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled. Oh, my dear father, can you suppose it possible that they will not be censured and despised wherever they are known, and that their sisters will not be often involved in the disgrace? Mr. Bennett saw that her whole heart was in the subject and affectionately taking her hand, said in reply, Do not make yourself uneasy my love. Wherever you in Jane are known, you must be respected and valued, and you will not appear to less advantage for having a couple of, or may I say three very silly sisters. We shall have no peace at Longborn if Lydia does not go to Brighton. Let her go then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man and will keep her out of any real mischief, and she is luckily too poor to be an object of prey to anybody. At Brighton she will be of less importance, even as a common flirt, than she has been here. The officers will find women better worth their notice. Let us hope therefore that her being there may teach her her own insignificance. At any rate she cannot grow many degrees worse without authorizing us to lock her up for the rest of her life. With this answer, Elizabeth was forced to be contend, but her own opinion continued the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. It was not in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on them. She was confident of having performed her duty and to fret over unavoidable evils or augment them by anxiety was no part of her disposition. Had Lydia and her mother known the substance of her conference with her father, their intonation would hardly have found expression in their united volubility. In Lydia's imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised every possibility of earthly happiness. She saw with the creative eye of fancy the streets of that gay bathing place covered with officers. She saw herself the object of attention to tens and to scores of them at present unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp. Its tenth stretched forth and butitious uniformity of lines, crowded with the young and the gay and dazzling with scarlet. And to complete the view she saw herself seated beneath the tent, tenderly flirting with at least six officers at once. Hatchy known that her sister sought to tear her from such prospects and such realities as these, what would have been her sensations. They could have been understood only by her mother, who might have felt nearly the same. Lydia's going to Brighton was all that consoled her for the melancholy conviction of her husband's never intending to go there himself. But they were entirely ignorant of what had passed, and their raptures continued with little intermission to the very day of Lydia's leaving home. Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. Having been frequently in company with him since her return, agitation was pretty well over. The agitations of former partiality entirely so. She'd even learnt to detect in the very gentleness which had first delighted her an affection and a sameness to disgust and weary. In his present behavior to herself more of her, she had a fresh source of displeasure. For the inclination he soon testified of renewing those attentions which had marked the early part of their acquaintance could only serve, after what had since passed, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in finding herself thus selected as the object of such idle and frivolous gallantry. And while she steadily repressed it, could not but feel the reproof contained in his believing that however long, and for whatever cause his attentions had been withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified and her preference secured at any time by their renewal. On the very last day of the regiments remaining in Meriton, he dined with others of the officers at Longborn, and so little was Elizabeth's dispose to part from him in good humor that on his making some inquiry asked the manner in which the time had passed at Hunsford. She mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliams and Mr. Darcy's having boasted three weeks at Rosings, and asked him if he were acquainted with the former. He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed, but with a moment's recollection and a returning smile replied that he had formerly seen him often, and after observing that he was a very gentleman like man asked her how she'd liked him. Her answer was warmly in his favor. With an air of indifference he soon afterwards added, how long did you say that he was at Rosings? Nearly three weeks, and you saw him frequently. Yes, almost every day. His manners are very different from his cousins. Yes, very different, but I think Mr. Darcy improves on acquaintance. Indeed, cried Wickham with a look which did not escape her, and pray may I ask, but checking himself he added in a gay or tone, is it in a dress that he improves? Has he deemed to add ought of civility to his ordinary style? For I dare not hope, he continued in a lower and more serious tone that he is improved in essentials. Oh no, Settles, but then essentials, I believe, he is very much what he ever was. While she spoke Wickham looked, as if scarcely knowing whether to rejoice over her words or to distress their meaning. There was a something in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive and anxious attention. While she added, when I said that he improved on acquaintance, I did not mean that either his mind or manners were in a state of improvement, but that from knowing him better, his disposition was better understood. Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion, an agitated look. For a few minutes he was silent till shaking off his embarrassment, he turned to her again and said in the gentleness of accents. You, who so well know my feelings towards Mr. Darcy, will readily comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume even the appearance of what is right. His pride in that direction may be of service, if not to himself, to many others, for it must deter him from such foul misconduct as I have suffered by. I only fear that the sort of cautiousness to which you, I imagine, have been eluding, is merely adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose good opinion and judgment he stands much in awe. His fear of her has always operated, I know, when they are worked together, and a quick deal is to be imputed to his wish affording the match with Mr. Burg, which I am certain he has very much at heart. Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a slight inclination of the head. She saw that he wanted to engage her on the old subject of his grievances, and she was a no-humour to indulge him. The rest of the evening passed with the appearance on his side of usual cheerfulness, but with no farther attempt to distinguish Elizabeth, and they parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again. When the party broke up, Lydia returned with Mrs. Forrester to marry him, from once they were set out early the next morning. The separation between her and her family was rather noisy than pathetic. Kitty was the only one who shed tears, but she did weep from vexation and envy. Mrs. Bennett was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her daughter, and impressive in her injunctions that she would not miss the opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible. Advice, which there was every reason to believe, would be attended to, and in the clamorous happiness of Lydia herself in bidding farewell, the more gentle adoes of her sisters were uttered without being heard. Chapter 19 Had Elizabeth's opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could not have formed a very pleasing picture of congeal felicity or domestic comfort. Her father captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance of good humor, which youth and beauty generally give, had married a woman whose weak understanding and a liberal mind had very early in their marriage put an end to all real affection for her. Respect to steam and confidence had vanished forever, and all his views of domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennett was not of a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment, which his own imprudence had brought on in any of those pleasures, which too often consoled the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. He was fond of the country and of books, and from these tastes had arisen his principal enjoyments. To his wife, who is very little otherwise indebted, then as her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement. This is not the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his wife, but where other powers of entertainment are wanting the true philosopher will derive benefit from such as her given. Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her father's behavior as a husband. She had always seen it with pain, but respecting his abilities and grateful for his affectionate treatment of herself, she endeavored to forget which she could not overlook, and to banish from her thoughts that continual breach of congeal obligation and decorum, which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own children, was so highly reprehensible. But she had never felt so strongly as now, the disadvantages which must attend the children of so unsuitable a marriage, nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arriving from so ill-judged to direction of talents. Talents which rightly used might at least have preserved the respectability of his daughters, even if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife. When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham's departure, she found little other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties abroad were less varied than before, and at home she had a mother and sister whose constant repinings that the dullness of everything around them, through a real gloom over their domestic circle. And though Kitty, might in time, regained her natural degree of sense, since the disturbers of her brain were removed, her other sister, from whose disposition greater evil might be apprehended, was likely to be hardened in all her folly and assurance, by a situation of such double danger as a watering place in a camp. Upon the whole, therefore, she found what has been sometimes found before, that an event to which she had looked forward with impatient desire did not in taking place bring all the satisfaction she had promised herself. It was consequently necessary to names of other periods for the commencement of actual felicity, to have some other point on which her wishes and hopes might be fixed, and by again, enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for the present, and prepare for another disappointment. Her tour to the lakes was now the object of her happiest thoughts. It was her best consolation for all the uncomfortable hours which the discontentness of her mother and Kitty made inevitable, and could she have included Jane in the scheme every part of it would have been perfect. But it is fortunate that she, that I have something to wish for, where the whole arrangement complete my disappointment would be certain. But here, by caring with me one ceaseless source of regret in my sister's absence, I may reasonably hope to have all my expectations of pleasure realized. A scheme of which every part promises delight can never be successful, and general disappointment is only warded off by the defense of some little peculiar vexation. When Lydia went away, she promised right very often, and very minutely to her mother and Kitty, but her letters were always long expected and always very short. Those to her mother contained little else than that they were just returned from the library or such and such officers that attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful ornaments as made her quite wild, that she had a new gown or a new parasol which she would have described more fully, but was obliged to leave off in a violent hurry, as Mrs. Forrester called her, and they were going to the camp. And from her correspondence with her sister, there was still less to be learned. For her letters to Kitty, though rather longer, were made two full of lines under the words to be made public. After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health, good humor and cheerfulness began to reappear at Longborn. Everything were a happier aspect. The families who had been in town for the winter came back again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose. Mrs. Bennet was restored to her usual serenity, and by the middle of June Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Maryton without tears. An event of such happy promises to make Elizabeth Hope, that by the following Christmas, she might be so tolerably reasonable as not to mention an officer above once a day, unless by some cruel and malicious arrangement at the war office, another regiment should be quartered in Maryton. The time fixed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fast approaching, and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letter arrived from Mrs. Gardner, which at once delayed its commencement and curtailed its extent. Mr. Gardner would be prevented by business from setting out to the fortnight later in July, and must be in London again within a month, and as that left too short a period for them to go so far, and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it with a leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up the lakes and substitute a more contracted tour. And according to the present plan were to go no farther northward than Derbyshire. In that county there was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their three weeks, and Mrs. Gardner had a peculiarly strong attraction. The town where she had formerly passed some years of her life, and where there were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an object of her curiosity as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth, Dovdale, or the Peac. Elizabeth was excessively disappointed. She had set her heart on seeing the lakes, and still thought there might have been time enough, but it was her business to be satisfied, and certainly her temper to be happy, and all was soon right again. With a mention of Derbyshire, there were many ideas connected. It was impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its owner. But Shirley said she, I may enter his country with impunity and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me. The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks were to pass away before her uncle announced arrival, but they did pass away, and Mr. Mrs. Gardner, with their four children, did it lengthepear at Longborn. The children, two girls of six, and eight years old, and two younger boys, were to be left under the particular care of their cousin Jane, who was the general favorite, a new steady sense and sweetness of temper exactly adapted her for attending to them in every way, teaching them, playing with them, and loving them. The Gardner stayed only one night at Longborn, and set off the next morning with Elizabeth in pursuit of novelty and amusement. One enjoyment was certain. That of suitableness as companions. A suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bear inconveniences, cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure and affection and intelligence which might supply it among themselves if there were disappointments abroad. It is not the object of this work to give a description of Derbyshire, nor of any of the remarkable places through which they route the their lay, Oxford, Blenem, Warwick, Kenoworth, Birmingham, etc., are sufficiently known. A small part of Derbyshire is all the present concern. To the little town of Lampton, the scene of Mrs. Gardner's former residence, and where she had lately learned that some acquaintance still remained, they bent their steps, after having seen all the principal wonders of the country, and within five miles of Lampton, Elizabeth found from her aunt, that Pemberley was situated. It was not in their direct road, nor more than a mile or two out of it. In talking over their route the evening before, Mrs. Gardner expressed an inclination to see the place again. Mr. Gardner declared his willingness and Elizabeth was applied to for approbation. My love should not you like to see a place of which you've heard so much, said her aunt, a place to with which so many of your acquaintance are connected. Wiccom passed all his youth there, you know. Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She must own that she was tired of great houses, after going over so many. She really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains. Mrs. Gardner amused her stupidity. If it were merely a fine house, or itchly furnished, said she. I should not care about it myself, but the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the country. Elizabeth said no more, but her mind could not acquiesce. The possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place instantly occurred, it would be dreadful. She blushed at the very idea, and thought it would be better to speak openly to her aunt than to run such a risk. But against this there were objections, and she finally resolved that it could be the last resource, if her private inquiries, as to the absence of the family, were unfavorably answered. Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid whether Pemberley were not a very fine place. What was the name of its proprietor? And when no little alarm, whether the family were down for the summer. A most welcome negative followed the last question, and her alarms being now removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal of curiosity to see the house herself. And when the subject was revived the next morning, and she was again applied to, could readily answer, and with a proper air of indifference, that she had not really any dislike to the scheme. To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.