Chapter 16

by Jane Austen

　　As no objection was made to the young people's engagementwith their aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. andMrs. Bennet for a single evening during his visit were moststeadily resisted, the coach conveyed him and his five cousins ata suitable hour to Meryton; and the girls had the pleasure ofhearing, as they entered the drawing-room, that Mr. Wickhamhad accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in the house.When this information was given, and they had all taken theirseats, Mr. Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire,and he was so much struck with the size and furniture of theapartment, that he declared he might almost have supposedhimself in the small summer breakfast parlour at Rosings; acomparison that did not at first convey much gratification; butwhen Mrs. Phillips understood from him what Rosings was, andwho was its proprietor-- when she had listened to the descriptionof only one of Lady Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found thatthe chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she feltall the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resenteda comparison with the housekeeper's room.In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and hermansion, with occasional digressions in praise of his own humbleabode, and the improvements it was receiving, he was happilyemployed until the gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs.Phillips a very attentive listener, whose opinion of hisconsequence increased with what she heard, and who wasresolving to retail it all among her neighbours as soon as shecould. To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin, andwho had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, andexamine their own indifferent imitations of china on themantelpiece, the interval of waiting appeared very long. It wasover at last, however. The gentlemen did approach, and whenMr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she hadneither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, withthe smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers ofthe ----shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set,and the best of them were of the present party; but Mr.Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air,and walk, as they were superior to the broad-faced, stuffyuncle Phillips, breathing port wine, who followed them into theroom.Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost everyfemale eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman bywhom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable manner inwhich he immediately fell into conversation, though it was onlyon its being a wet night, made her feel that the commonest,dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting bythe skill of the speaker.With such rivals for the notice of the fair as Mr. Wickham andthe officers, Mr. Collins seemed to sink into insignificance; tothe young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still atintervals a kind listener in Mrs. Phillips, and was by herwatchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin.When the card-tables were placed, he had the opportunity ofobliging her in turn, by sitting down to whist."I know little of the game at present," said he, "but I shall beglad to improve myself, for in my situation in life--" Mrs. Phillipswas very glad for his compliance, but could not wait for hisreason.Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was hereceived at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At firstthere seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely, for shewas a most determined talked; but being likewise extremely fondof lottery tickets, she soon grew too much interested in thegame, too eager in making bets and exclaiming after prizes tohave attention for anyone in particular. Allowing for thecommon demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore atleisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him,though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to betold-- the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She darednot even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity, however, wasunexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself.He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, afterreceiving her answer, asked in a hesitating manner how long Mr.Darcy had been staying there."About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let thesubject drop, added, "he is a man of very large property inDerbyshire, I understand.""Yes," replied Mr. Wickham; "his estate there is a noble one. Aclear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with aperson more capable of giving you certain information on thathead than myself, for I have been connected with his family in aparticular manner from my infancy."Elizabeth could not but look surprised."You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion,after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of ourmeeting yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?""As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth very warmly. "Ihave spent four days in the same house with him, and I think himvery disagreeable.""I have no right to give my opinion," said Wickham, "as to hisbeing agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. Ihave known him too long and too well to be a fair judge. It isimpossible for me to be impartial. But I believe your opinion ofhim would in general astonish-- and perhaps you would notexpress it quite so strongly anywhere else. Here you are in yourown family.""Upon my word, I say no more here than I might say in anyhouse in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at allliked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride.You will not find him more favourably spoken of by any one.""I cannot pretend to be sorry," said Wickham, after a shortinterruption, "that he or that any man should not be estimatedbeyond their deserts; but with him I believe it does not oftenhappen. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence,or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees himonly as he chooses to be seen."I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be anill-tempered man." Wickham shook his head."I wonder," said he, at the next opportunity of speaking,"whether he is likely to be in this country much longer.""I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going awaywhen I was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the----shire will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood.""Oh! no-- it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. Ifhe wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not onfriendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but Ihave no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaimbefore all the world, a sense of very great ill-usage, and mostpainful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet,the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed,and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in companywith this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by athousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has beenscandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything andeverything, rather than his disappointing the hopes anddisgracing the memory of his father."Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listenedwith all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented further inquiry.Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton,the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with allthat he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter with gentle butvery intelligible gallantry."It was the prospect of constant society, and good society," headded, "which was my chief inducement to enter the ----shire. Iknew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friendDenny tempted me further by his account of their presentquarters, and the very great attentions and excellentacquaintances Meryton had procured them. Society, I own, isnecessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and my spiritswill not bear solitude. I must have employment and society.A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstanceshave now made it eligible. The church ought to have beenmy profession-- I was brought up for the church, and I should atthis time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had itpleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now.""Indeed!""Yes-- the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentationof the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, andexcessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness.He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it;but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere.""Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth; "but how could that be?How could his will be disregarded? Why did you not seek legalredress?""There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequestas to give me no hope from law. A man of honour could nothave doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it-- orto treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assertthat I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence--in short anything or nothing. Certain it is, that the living becamevacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, andthat it was given to another man; and no less certain is it, that Icannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserveto lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may havespoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recallnothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort ofmen, and that he hates me.""This is quite shocking! He deserves to be publicly disgraced.""Some time or other he will be-- but it shall not be by me.Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him."Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought himhandsomer than ever as he expressed them."But what," said she, after a pause, "can have been his motive?What can have induced him to behave so cruelly?""A thorough, determined dislike of me-- a dislike which I cannotbut attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr.Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me better;but his father's uncommon attachment to me irritated him, Ibelieve, very early in life. He had not a temper to bear the sort ofcompetition in which we stood-- the sort of preference whichwas often given me.""I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this-- though I havenever liked him. I had not thought so very ill of him. I hadsupposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in general, butdid not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge,such injustice, such inhumanity as this."After a few minutes' reflection, however, she continued, "I doremember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of theimplacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgivingtemper. His disposition must be dreadful.""I will not trust myself on the subject," replied Wickham; "Ican hardly be just to him."Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed,"to treat in such a manner the godson, the friend, the favourite ofhis father!" She could have added, "a young man, too, likeyou, whose very countenance may vouch for your beingamiable"-- but she contented herself with, "and one, too, whohad probably been his companion from childhood, connectedtogether, as I think you said, in the closest manner!""We were born in the same parish, within the same park; thegreatest part of our youth was passed together; inmates of thesame house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the sameparental care. My father began life in the profession which youruncle, Mr. Phillips, appears to do so much credit to-- but hegave up everything to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy anddevoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property. Hewas most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate,confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself to beunder the greatest obligations to my father's activesuperintendence, and when, immediately before my father'sdeath, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing forme, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt ofgratitude to him, as of his affection to myself.""How strange!" cried Elizabeth. "How abominable! I wonderthat the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just toyou! If from no better motive, that he should not have been tooproud to be dishonest-- for dishonesty I must call it.""It is wonderful," replied Wickham, "for almost all his actionsmay be traced to pride; and pride had often been his best friend.It has connected him nearer with virtue than with any otherfeeling. But we are none of us consistent, and in his behaviourto me there were stronger impulses even than pride.""Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?""Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give hismoney freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, andrelieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride-- for he is veryproud of what his father was-- have done this. Not to appear todisgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, orlose the influence of the Pemberley House, is a powerful motive.He has also brotherly pride, which, with some brotherlyaffection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of hissister, and you will hear him generally cried up as the mostattentive and best of brothers.""What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?"He shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives mepain to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like herbrother-- very, very proud. As a child, she was affectionate andpleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hoursand hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now.She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, Iunderstand, highly accomplished. Since her father's death, herhome has been London, where a lady lives with her, andsuperintends her education."After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabethcould not help reverting once more to the first, and saying:"I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr.Bingley, who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe,truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can theysuit each other? Do you know Mr. Bingley?""Not at all.""He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannotknow what Mr. Darcy is.""Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. Hedoes not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if hethinks it worth his while. Among those who are at all his equalsin consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to theless prosperous. His pride never deserts him; but with the richhe is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, andperhaps agreeable-- allowing something for fortune and figure."The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the playersgathered round the other table and Mr. Collins took his stationbetween his cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Phillips. The usualinquiries as to his success was made by the latter. It had notbeen very great; he had lost every point; but when Mrs. Phillipsbegan to express her concern thereupon, he assured her withmuch earnest gravity that it was not of the least importance, thathe considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged that shewould not make herself uneasy.I know very well, madam," said he, "that when persons sit downto a card table, they must take their chances of these things, andhappily I am not in such circumstances as to make five shillingsany object. There are undoubtedly many who could not say thesame, but thanks to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am removedfar beyond the necessity of regarding little matters."Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr,.Collins for a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voicewhether her relation was very intimately acquainted with thefamily of de Bourgh."Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she replied, "has very lately givenhim a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was firstintroduced to her notice, but he certainly has not known herlong.""You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and LadyAnne Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to thepresent Mr. Darcy.""No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine'sconnections. I never heard of her existence till the day beforeyesterday.""Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune,and it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the twoestates."This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poorMiss Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain anduseless her affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if hewere already self-destined for another."Mr. Collins," said she, "speaks highly both of Lady Catherineand her daughter; but from some particulars that he has relatedof her ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that inspite of her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, conceitedwoman.""I believe her to be both in a great degree," replied Wickham; "Ihave not seen her for many years, but I very well remember thatI never liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial andinsolent. She has the reputation of being remarkably sensibleand clever; but I rather believe she derives part of her abilitiesfrom her rank and fortune, part from her authoritative manner,and the rest from the pride for her nephew, who chooses thatevery one connected with him should have an understanding ofthe first class."Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it,and they continued talking together, with mutual satisfaction tillsupper put an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies theirshare of Mr. Wickham's attentions. There could be noconversation in the noise of Mrs. Phillips' supper party, but hismanners recommended him to everybody. Whatever he said,was said well; and whatever he did, done gracefully. Elizabethwent away with her head full of him. She could think of nothingbut of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all the wayhome; but there was not time for her even to mention his nameas they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent.Lydia talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lostand the fish she had won; and Mr. Collins in describing thecivility of Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, protesting that he did not in theleast regard his losses at whist, enumerating all the dishes atsupper, and repeatedly fearing that he crowded his cousins, hadmore to say than he could well manage before the carriagestopped at Longbourn House.