Chapter 18

by Jane Austen

　　Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, andlooked in vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coatsthere assembled, a doubt of his being present had never occurredto her. The certainty of meeting him had not been checked byany of those recollections that might not unreasonably havealarmed her. She had dressed with more than usual care, andprepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all thatremained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not morethan might be won in the course of the evening. But in aninstant arose the dreadful suspicion of his being purposelyomitted for Mr. Darcy's pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation to theofficers; and though this was not exactly the case, the absolutefact of his absence was pronounced by his friend Denny, towhom Lydia eagerly applied, and who told them that Wickhamhad been obliged to go to town on business the day before, andwas not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile, "I do notimagine his business would have called him away just now, if hehad not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here."This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, wascaught by Elizabeth, and, as it assured her that Darcy was notless answerable for Wickham's absence than if her first surmisehad been just, every feeling of displeasure against the formerwas so sharpened by immediate disappointment, that she couldhardly reply with tolerable civility to the polite inquiries whichhe directly afterwards approached to make. Attendance,forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham. Shewas resolved against any sort of conversation with him, andturned away with a degree of ill-humour which she could notwholly surmount even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blindpartiality provoked her.But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though everyprospect of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could notdwell long on her spirits; and having told all her griefs toCharlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen for a week, she wassoon able to make a voluntary transition to the oddities of hercousin, and to point him out to her particular notice. The firsttwo dances, however, brought a return of distress; they weredances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn,apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrongwithout being aware of it, gave her all the shame and miserywhich disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. Themoment of her release from him was ecstasy.She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment oftalking of Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked.When those dances were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas,and was in conversation with her, when she found herselfsuddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy who took her so much bysurprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowingwhat she did, she accepted him. He walked away againimmediately, and she was left to fret over her own want ofpresence of mind; Charlotte tried to console her:"I dare say you will find him very agreeable.""Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all!To find a man agreeable whom on is determined to hate! Do notwish me such an evil."When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcyapproached to claim her hand, Charlotte could not helpcautioning her in a whisper, not to be a simpleton, and allow herfancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes ofa man ten times his consequence. Elizabeth made no answer,and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which shewas arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy,and reading in her neighbours' looks, their equal amazement inbeholding it. They stood for some time without speaking aword; and she began to imagine that their silence was to lastthrough the two dances, and at first was resolved not to break it;till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment toher partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slightobservation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent.After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second timewith:-- "It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. Italked about the dance, and you ought to make some sort ofremark on the size of the room, or the number of couples."He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to sayshould be said."Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by andby I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter thanpublic ones. But now we may be silent.""Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?""Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would lookodd to be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for theadvantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged, asthat they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible.""Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or doyou imagine that you are gratifying mine?""Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a greatsimilarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial,taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to saysomething that will amaze the whole room, and be handed downto posterity with all the eclat of a proverb.""This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, Iam sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine, I cannotpretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.""I must not decide on my own performance."He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gonedown the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did notvery often walk to Meryton? She answered in the affirmative,and, unable to resist the temptation, added, "When you met usthere the other day, we had just been forming a newacquaintance."The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteuroverspread his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth,though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on.At length Darcy spoke, and in a constrained manner said, "Mr.Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure hismaking friends-- whether he may be equally capable ofretaining them, is less certain.""He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," repliedElizabeth with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely tosuffer from all his life."Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing thesubject. At that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close tothem, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of theroom; but on perceiving Mr. Darcy, he stopped with a bow ofsuperior courtesy to compliment him on his dancing and hispartner."I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Suchvery superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that youbelong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that yourfair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to havethis pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirableevent, my dear Eliza (glancing at her sister and Bingley) shalltake place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal toMr. Darcy:-- but let me not interrupt you, sir. You will notthank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of thatyoung lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me."The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; butSir William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly,and his eyes were directed with a very serious expressiontowards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together.Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner,and said, "Sir William's interruption has made me forget whatwe were talking of.""I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could nothave interrupted two people in the room who had less to say forthemselves. We have tried two or three subjects already withoutsuccess, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine.""What think you of books?" said he, smiling."Books-- oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not withthe same feelings.""I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can atleast be no want of subject. We may compare our differentopinions.""No-- I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is alwaysfull of something else.""The present always occupies you in such scenes-- does it?"said he, with a look of doubt."Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, forher thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soonafterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming, "I rememberhearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave,that you resentment once created was unappeasable. You arevery cautious, I suppose, as to its being created.""I am," said he, with a firm voice."And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?""I hope not.""It is particularly incumbent on those who never change theiropinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."May I ask to what these questions tend?""Merely to the illustration of your character," said she,endeavouring to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make itout.""And what is your success?"She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear suchdifferent accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.""I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that reports mayvary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet,that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment,as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect nocredit on either.""But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never haveanother opportunity.""I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldlyreplied. She said no more, and they went down the other danceand parted in silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not toan equal degree, for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerablepowerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon,and directed all his anger against another.They had not long separated, when Miss Bingley came towardsher, and with an expression of civil disdain accosted her:-- "So,Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with GeorgeWickham! Your sister has been talking to me about him, andasking me a thousand questions; and I find that the young manquite forgot to tell you, among his other communication, that hewas the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward. Letme recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give implicitconfidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy's using himill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has always beenremarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treatedMr. Darcy in a most infamous manner. I do not know theparticulars, but I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in theleast to blame, that he cannot bear to hear George Wickhammentioned, and that though my brother thought that he couldnot well avoid including him in his invitation to the officers, hewas excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of theway. His coming into the country at all is a most insolent thing,indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you,Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite's guilt; but really,considering his descent, one could not expect much better.""His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be thesame," said Elizabeth angrily; "for I have heard you accuse himof nothing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward,and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself.""I beg your pardon," replied Miss Bingley, turning away with asneer. "Excuse my interference: it was kindly meant.""Insolent girl!" said Elizabeth to herself. "You are muchmistaken if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attackas this. I see nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and themalice of Mr. Darcy." She then sought her eldest sister, whohas undertaken to make inquiries on the same subject of Bingley.Jane met her with a smile of such sweet complacency, a glow ofsuch happy expression, as sufficiently marked how well she wassatisfied with the occurrences of the evening. Elizabeth instantlyread her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for Wickham,resentment against his enemies, and everything else, gave waybefore the hope of Jane's being in the fairest way for happiness."I want to know," said she, with a countenance no less smilingthan her sister's, "what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham.But perhaps you have been too pleasantly engaged to think ofany third person; in which case you may be sure of my pardon.""No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten him; but I have nothingsatisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole ofhis history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which haveprincipally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the goodconduct, the probity, and honour of his friend, and is perfectlyconvinced that Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attentionfrom Mr. Darcy than he has received; and I am sorry to say byhis account as well as his sister's, Mr. Wickham is by no means arespectable young man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent,and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's regard.""Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?""No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton.""This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. Iam satisfied. But what does he say of the living?""He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he hasheard them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes thatit was left to him conditionally only.""I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity," said Elizabethwarmly; "but you must excuse my not being convinced byassurances only. Mr. Bingley's defense of his friend was a veryable one, I dare say; but since he is unacquainted with severalparts of the story, and has learnt the rest from that friendhimself, I shall venture to still think of both gentlemen as I didbefore."She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each,and on which there could be no difference of sentiment.Elizabeth listened with delight to the happy, though modesthopes which Jane entertained of Mr. Bingley's regard, and saidall in her power to heighten her confidence in it. On their beingjoined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew to MissLucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last partnershe had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them,and told her with great exultation that he had just been sofortunate as to make a most important discovery."I have found out," said he, "by a singular accident, that there isnow in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened tooverhear the gentleman himself mentioning to the young ladywho does the honours of the house the names of his cousin Missde Bourgh, and of her mother Lady Catherine. Howwonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would havethought of my meeting with, perhaps, a nephew of LadyCatherine de Bourgh in his assembly! I am most thankful thatthe discovery is made in time for me to pay my respects to him,which I am now going to do, and trust he will excuse my nothaving done it before. My total ignorance of the connectionmust plead my apology.""You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy!""Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done itearlier. I believe him to be Lady Catherine's nephew. It willbe in my power to assure him that her ladyship was quite wellyesterday se'nnight."Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme,assuring him that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing himwithout introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather than acompliment to his aunt; that it was not in the least necessarythere should be any notice on either side; and that if it were, itmust belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in consequence, to beginthe acquaintance. Mr. Collins listened to her with thedetermined air of following his own inclination, and, when sheceased speaking, replied thus:-- "My dear Miss Elizabeth, I havethe highest opinion in the world in your excellent judgement inall matters within the scope of your understanding; but permitme to say, that there must be a wide difference between theestablished forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and thosewhich regulate the clergy; for, give me leave to observe that Iconsider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with thehighest rank in the kingdom-- provided that a proper humility ofbehaviour is at the same time maintained. You must thereforeallow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on thisoccasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a pointof duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice,which on every other subject shall be my constant guide, thoughin the case before us I consider myself more fitted by educationand habitual study to decide on what is right than a young ladylike yourself." And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr.Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched,and whose astonishment at being so addressed was very evident.Her cousin prefaced his speech with a solemn bow and thoughshe could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing it all, andsaw in the motion of his lips the words "apology," "Hunsford,"and "Lady Catherine de Bourgh." It vexed her to see himexpose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him withunrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed himtime to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins,however, was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr.Darcy's contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the lengthof his second speech, and at the end of it he only made him aslight bow, and moved another way. Mr. Collins then returnedto Elizabeth."I have no reason, I assure you," said he, "to be dissatisfied withmy reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with theattention. He answered me with the utmost civility, and evenpaid me the compliment of saying that he was so well convincedof Lady Catherine's discernment as to be certain she could neverbestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very handsomethought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him."As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue,she turned her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr.Bingley; and the train of agreeable reflections which herobservations gave birth to, made her perhaps almost as happy asJane. She saw her in idea settled in that very house, in all thefelicity which a marriage of true affection could bestow; and shefelt capable, under such circumstances, of endeavouring even tolike Bingley's two sisters. Her mother's thoughts she plainly sawwere bent the same way, and she determined not to venture nearher, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down tosupper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perversenesswhich placed them within one of each other; and deeply was shevexed to find that her mother was talking to that one person(Lady Lucas) freely, openly, and of nothing else but herexpectation that Jane would soon be married to Mr. Bingley. Itwas an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable offatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. Hisbeing such a charming young man, and so rich, and living butthree miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation;and then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisterswere of Jane, and to be certain that they must desire theconnection as much as she could do. It was, moreover, such apromising thing for her younger daughters, as Jane's marrying sogreatly must throw them in the way of other rich men; and lastly,it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to consign hersingle daughters to the care of their sister, that she might not beobliged to go into company more than she liked. It wasnecessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure,because on such occasions it is the etiquette; but no one was lesslikely than Mrs. Bennet to find comfort in staying home at anyperiod of her life. She concluded with many good wishes thatLady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate, though evidentlyand triumphantly believing there was no chance of it.In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of hermother's words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a lessaudible whisper; for, to her inexpressible vexation, she couldperceive that the chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, whosat opposite to them. Her mother only scolded her for beingnonsensical."What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him?I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obligedto say nothing he may not like to hear.""For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can itbe for you to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommendyourself to his friend by so doing!"Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Hermother would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone.Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation.She could not help frequently glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy,though every glance convinced her of what she dreaded; forthough he was not always looking at her mother, she wasconvinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. Theexpression of his face changed gradually from indignantcontempt to a composed and steady gravity.At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and LadyLucas, who had been long yawning at the repetition of delightswhich she saw no likelihood of sharing, was left to the comfortsof cold ham and chicken. Elizabeth now began to revive. Butnot long was the interval of tranquillity; for, when supper wasover, singing was talked of, and she had the mortification ofseeing Mary, after very little entreaty, preparing to oblige thecompany. By many significant looks and silent entreaties, didshe endeavour to prevent such a proof of complaisance, but invain; Mary would not understand them; such an opportunity ofexhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song.Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on her with most painful sensations,and she watched her progress through the several stanzas withan impatience which was very ill rewarded at their close; forMary, on receiving, amongst the thanks of the table, the hint of ahope that she might be prevailed on to favour them again, afterthe pause of half a minute began another. Mary's powers wereby no means fitted for such a display; her voice was weak, andher manner affected. Elizabeth was in agonies. She looked atJane, to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedlytalking to Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw themmaking signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, whocontinued, however, imperturbably grave. She looked at herfather to entreat his interference, lest Mary should be singing allnight. He took the hint, and when Mary had finished her secondsong, said aloud, "That will do extremely well, child. You havedelighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have timeto exhibit."Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhatdisconcerted; and Elizabeth, sorry for her, and sorry for herfather's speech, was afraid her anxiety had done no good.Others of the party were now applied to."If I," said Mr. Collins, "were so fortunate as to be able to sing,I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the companywith an air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion,and perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman. Ido not mean, however, to assert that we can be justified indevoting too much of our time to music, for there are certainlyother things to be attended to. The rector of a parish has muchto do. In the first place, he must make such an agreement fortithes as a may be beneficial to himself and not offensive to hispatron. He must write his own sermons; and the time thatremains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the careand improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excusedfrom making as a comfortable as a possible. And I do not thinkit of light importance that he should have attentive andconciliatory manner towards everybody, especially towardsthose to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit him ofthat duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit anoccasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connectedwith the family." And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concludedhis speech, which had been spoken so loud as a to be heard byhalf the room. Many stared-- many smiled; but no one lookedmore amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while his wife seriouslycommended Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly, andobserved in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was aremarkably clever, good kind of young man.To Elizabeth it appeared that, had her family made an agreementto expose themselves as a much as a they could during theevening, it would have been impossible for them to play theirparts with more spirit or finer success; and happy did she think itfor Bingley and her sister that some of the exhibition hadescaped his notice, and that his feelings were not of a sort to bemuch distressed by the folly which he must have witnessed.That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should have suchan opportunity of ridiculing her relations, was bad enough, andshe could not determine whether the silent contempt of thegentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were moreintolerable.The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She wasteased by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by herside, and though he could not prevail on her to dance with himagain, put it out of her power to dance with others. In vain didshe entreat him to stand up with somebody else, and offer tointroduce him to any young lady in the room. He assured her,that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it; that hischief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself toher and that he should therefore make a point of remaining closeto her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such aproject. She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas,who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr.Collins's conversation to herself.She was at least free from the offense of Mr. Darcy's furthernotice; though often standing within a very short distance of her,quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She feltit to be the probable consequence of her allusions to Mr.Wickham, and rejoiced in it.The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart,and, by a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for theircarriage a quarter of an hour after everybody else was gone,which gave them time to see how heartily they were wishedaway by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her sister scarcelyopened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue, and wereevidently impatient to have the house to themselves. Theyrepulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and byso doing threw a languor over the whole party, which was verylittle relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Collins, who wascomplimenting Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the elegance oftheir entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which hadmarked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said nothing at all.Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. Mr.Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached fromthe rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved assteady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and evenLydia was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasionalexclamation of "Lord, how tired I am!" accompanied by aviolent yawn.When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was mostpressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon atLongbourn, and addressed herself especially to Mr. Bingley, toassure him how happy he would make them by eating a familydinner with them at any time, without the ceremony of a formalinvitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, and he readilyengaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her,after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go thenext day for a short time.Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house underthe delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessarypreparations of settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes,she should undoubtedly see her daughter settled at Netherfield inthe course of three or four months. Of having another daughtermarried to Mr. Collins, she thought with equal certainty, andwith considerable, though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth was theleast dear to her of all her children; and though the man and thematch were quite good enough for her, the worth of each waseclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.