When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former expressed to her sister how much she admired Mr Bingley.
"He is very much what a young man ought to be," said she calmly, "sensible, good-humoured, lively; and I have rarely seen such happy manners -- so much ease, with such good breeding."
"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth, "which a young man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete."
"I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did not expect such a compliment."
"Did not you? I did for you. But that is one great difference between us. Compliments always take you by surprise, and me never. What could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person." And yet, Elizabeth thought, Jane's liking never seemed to go further; it was applied freely to everybody, and except for her fondness for family, she rarely showed any distinct partiality. It was not that she lacked the capability for it, Elizabeth was certain; her sister's feelings, though little displayed, were fervent. No -- she had simply not found anyone capable of engaging those feelings. Her tepid approval of Mr Bingley was very much characteristic.
"Dear Lizzy!" Jane said fondly, and Elizabeth laughed her concern off. Jane was only two-and-twenty; there was time yet for her to find one worthy of her regard.
"Oh! you are a great deal too apt you know, to like people in general. You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes. I have never heard you speak ill of a human being in my life."
"I would wish not to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak what I think."
"I know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder. With your good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others! Affectation of candour is common enough;--one meets it everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design -- to take the good of everybody's character and make it still better, and say nothing of the bad -- belongs to you alone." She clasped her sister's hand affectionately. Dear Jane! She was not truly gullible, not easily-led, for she clung to her own ideas with tenacity at least the equal of Elizabeth's own, even in the face of much evidence to the contrary. The sisters were in disagreement as often as not, but with such an excellent understanding between them, perfect accord was neither necessary nor desirable.
The morning after the assembly brought the eldest Miss Lucas, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, to hear and to communicate. "You began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs Bennet, with civil self-command. "You were Mr Bingley's first choice."
"Yes;--but he seemed to like his second better."
"Oh!--you mean Jane, I suppose -- because he danced with her twice. To be sure that did seem as if he admired her -- indeed I rather believe he did -- I heard something about it -- but I hardly know what -- something about Mr Robinson."
Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. Charlotte was too used to Mrs Bennet, and to her own mother, to take offence, but it was impossible not to blush at such transparency. She glanced at her sister, and to her surprise found Jane looking quite preoccupied, her dark brows knit together and her lips pursed in what passed for a frown with her.
"Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr Robinson; did not I mention it to you? Mr Robinson's asking him how he liked our Meryton assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many pretty women in the room, and which he thought the prettiest? and his answering immediately to the last question -- Oh! the eldest Miss Bennet beyond a doubt, there cannot be two opinions on that point."
"Upon my word!--Well, that was very decided indeed -- that does seem as if -- but however, it may all come to nothing you know." Jane raised her eyes and met Elizabeth's, her distress clear. Elizabeth understood perfectly; Jane liked Bingley and was flattered at his clear admiration, but had no intentions of encouraging him further, not yet. Jane, Elizabeth conceded, generally knew her own mind very well; no matter how convenient it would be for them all to have her well-settled at such a short distance as Netherfield, Jane's feelings must determine the outcome.
"Lizzy?"
Elizabeth was snapped out of her thoughts. "Yes, ma'am?"
"I was just telling Charlotte of your partner, Lizzy," Mrs Bennet said gloatingly. Elizabeth flushed and said,
"Oh, but Mama, you know how fond I am of dancing -- surely you do not intend to tell Charlotte about every one of them, when she saw well enough herself?"
Mrs Bennet abused her stupidity. "Mr Darcy never danced with anyone outside his own party," said she, "and after he danced with Lizzy, he sat by her and talked with her for the rest of the evening. You know, if he takes a liking to her, it might mean that the girls could be thrown into the paths of other rich men -- less fastidious ones."
"Mama, it was only a few minutes," Elizabeth protested. "You cannot imagine that Mr Darcy, of all people -- who never looks at any woman, except to see a blemish, and probably never looked at me in his life! -- has intentions of anything more serious than passing time while he is here."
"That is certain, if you do not help him on," Charlotte said seriously; "he likes you undoubtedly, but he may never do more than like you, if you show no partiality towards him. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely -- a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better show more affection than she feels."
"Your plan is a good one," replied Elizabeth, "where nothing is in question but the desire of being well-married; and if I were determined to get a rich husband, or any husband, I daresay I should adopt it. But these are not my feeling; I am not acting by design."
"Oh!" cried Mrs Bennet, "I beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to set her cap for him. He is a handsome man, to be sure, and quite rich -- a grand estate in Derbyshire, they say -- but everybody says he is ate up with pride, and I daresay he only danced with Lizzy because he had nothing better to do, and Jane was dancing with Mr Bingley."
Jane's eyes widened a little, and she looked at her sister apologetically; Elizabeth was too accustomed to her mother's ill opinion to be much bothered by this. Morever, she knew perfectly well that he could have danced with Jane had he wished it, when instead he had paid her the undivided attention of a well-bred man, and indeed seemed scarcely aware of Jane's existence. She did not mind for her sister's sake -- Jane had enough admirers, and she did not think they were well-suited in the least.
"If I were as rich as Mr Darcy," cried a young Lucas who came with his sisters, "I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine every day."
"Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought," said Mrs Bennet; "and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle directly."
The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she would, and the argument ended only with the visit.
---
The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit was returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew on the good will of Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was found to be intolerable and the younger sisters not worth speaking to, a wish of being better acquainted with them, was expressed towards the two eldest. By Jane this attention was received with the greatest pleasure; but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment of everybody, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them; though their kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value as arising in all probability from the influence of their brother's admiration. It was generally evident whenever they met, that he did admire her; and to her it was equally evident that Jane, although at first a little attracted by his pleasing face and happy manners, soon met him as only a common and indifferent acquaintance. She liked him, above all the gentlemen of her acquaintance, but she could not feel more. Mrs Bennet ignored Jane's protestations of disinterest, and many nights the two young ladies stayed awake talking the matter over. Elizabeth knew that if it came to a proposal, and necessarily to a refusal -- Jane, obedient and eager to please as she was, would never marry without affection -- her sister would need all the support she could receive. Their father could not be counted upon, for he looked upon it only as a good joke at Mrs Bennet's expence, and to a lesser degree Bingley's. Elizabeth fretted about it quite as much as Jane herself could do.
She was happily somewhat distracted from her worries by Mr Darcy's partiality for her. Without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only were concerned she could not be left in any doubt, however much he attempted to conceal it. He first listened to her conversations with other people, but distanced himself, not taking any part in them himself; Elizabeth was startled by his reticence, for he was too forthright in his opinions, too confident in himself, to be really called shy. She quickly realised, however, that in addition to reserve, or rather inspiring it, was a discomfort in the presence of strangers or large crowds, a difficulty in catching the tone of a conversation, or expressing interest, even when he did feel it, let alone when he did not. His consciousness of this likely only intensified the effect. Much as it pained her to agree with Miss Bingley, she had to admit that her report of Mr Darcy as never talking much among company, but perfectly agreeable among intimate acquaintance, seemed essentially correct. For a man of such pride, this deficiency of nature must be all the more irksome; to those who felt themselves his inferior, it might give the impression of him being disagreeable and ill-natured, but Elizabeth did him justice and, pitying him, did her best to draw him out.
One evening at Sir William Lucas's, she began by turning to him and saying archly, "Did not you think, Mr Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just not, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?"
"With great energy; but it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic," he said, smiling a little in response. She was pleased, without caring to meditate too deeply on the cause for it.
"You are severe on us."
"It will be her turn soon to be teased," said Miss Lucas. "I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows."
"You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!--always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody!--If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable, but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing . . . the best performers." At the last moment, she kept from mentioning his sister. Georgiana had been persuaded into playing a song for them, and her great natural talent was perfectly evident within two or three bars; Elizabeth knew well that her own could not compare. On Miss Lucas's persevering, joined by a slightly hesitant request from Mr Darcy, she consented to play, "Very well; if it must be so, it must."
Later on, when Mary played some Scotch and Irish airs, several of the company, including Kitty and Lydia, began to dance at one end of the room. Elizabeth stood apart; she liked to dance, but she had no interest in the officers, and she certainly did not wish to be lumped together with her younger sisters in anyone's eyes.
Mr Darcy's posture was similar, and he seemed lost in thought, except when the dancers caught his eye, at which times a flicker of disdain crossed it. Elizabeth stifled a smile; he disliked dancing enough when it was the purpose for gathering, but undoubtedly his antipathy was worse still when he had not expected it. More amusing was Sir William Lucas, who approached him tentatively, rather as she had done with birds when she was a child, looking this way and that, opening his mouth, shutting it, and finally pronouncing with every appearance of joviality,
"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr Darcy!" Darcy started a little, clearly unaware of his surroundings. Elizabeth smiled. Darcy's grave stern demeanour, the force of his personality and his general air of stately dignity, all gave the impression that he was older than he was, but his smooth face, thick hair, and fine teeth made it unlikely that he was over thirty, if that. "There is nothing like dancing after all," Sir William was saying. "--I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies."
Darcy seemed quite annoyed at being so forcibly drawn from his own thoughts, and replied acerbically, "Certainly, sir;--and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world.--Every savage can dance."
Sir William only smiled vapidly, and Elizabeth smothered a giggle. Of course poor Sir William had not deserved such a response, but as he could not comprehend the quick and convoluted paths of Darcy's mind, it hardly signified. For a moment silence reigned; then, as they saw Bingley join the group, Sir William continued, "Your friend performs delightfully; and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr Darcy."
At the faint twist of his handsome mouth, Elizabeth guessed that Darcy had many opinions on the "science" in question, none of which would dignify it by that word, but that he judged Sir William unworthy of the effort. He said with quiet restraint, "You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir."
"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do you often dance at St James's?"
Darcy said sharply, "Never, sir." Did he use "sir" or "madam" every single time he addressed another person? She wondered at his formality; for even, it seemed, when he intended to give offence, his manners remained unfalteringly well-bred and polite, as if he was not only unwilling but incapable of giving them up. Doubtless they had been drummed into his head with history and grammar.
"Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?"
"It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it," said he, his voice coloured by a faint trace of irony.
"You have a house in town, I conclude?"
This leap was unworthy of a response, apparently; Darcy only bowed.
"I had once some thoughts of fixing in town myself -- for I am fond of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of London would agree with Lady Lucas."
Doubtless the superior society of town would have made him feel his own insignificance rapidly. Darcy looked as if he had never been less interested in the conversation of any one. Elizabeth took pity on them both and moved towards them, only intending to add something to the conversation, and was startled to be instantly addressed by Sir William, who called out,
"My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing?--Mr Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner.--You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you." Without any further notice, he took her hand and would have given it to Mr Darcy, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William,
"Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing.--I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner." No matter how well she liked dancing, and how well she liked dancing with him, she would rather anything than to be asked out of pity. Every instinct recoiled at the thought.
"Miss Bennet," Darcy said, with grave propriety, "I assure you, I would be delighted to have the honour of your hand."
Elizabeth hesitated; she was inclined to think it mere politesse, but there was a flush on his pale cheek and he lifted his eyes up to gaze at her earnestly. Sir William instantly seized on the opportunity.
"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour."
"Mr Darcy is all politeness," said Elizabeth, smiling, and Darcy's lips curved very slightly in a faint reciprocal expression.
"He is indeed -- but considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complacence; for who would object to such a partner?"
Darcy simply looked at her expectantly, and she acceded to his request. As they went down, she said dryly, "I daresay you are little in the habit of going to such trouble to acquire a partner, Mr Darcy."
"It was no trouble," he instantly said, then added with a peculiar flicker in his eye, "although I will confess that it is usually a simpler business."
Elizabeth only smiled; she was beginning to suspect that, once, he'd had a sense of humour.
---
When at first, Darcy felt no sentiment superior to gratitude and rational admiration, now they had passed through bewitchment and into -- he knew not what to call it. He thought he was going out of his mind. Within a bare four weeks, he had gone from thinking her pretty but no beauty, to one of the handsomest women of his acquaintance. He no longer saw, nor cared about, her flaws and imperfections; something was clearly wrong with him. His judgment was almost never affected by his hopes and wishes, and yet now his reason seemed well and truly overthrown.
Except -- that was not quite true. When he was with her, and even occasionally when he was not, there was a greater quickness and clarity to his thinking. He felt as if he could see all the clearer, everything thrown into sharp relief; it was only when he fluctuated between that state and one of bewilderment and, if he were perfectly honest with himself, fear, that he fell into a muddled confusion. He could have no serious intentions, of course. Mr Bennet was a gentleman, to be sure, but not a person of any consequence in the world. Darcy owed it to himself, to his family, to his children, and to his estate, to marry well. He had never been romantic, and neither was he mercenary; he intended to marry a lady of his own social sphere, one whom he could harbour both affection and respect for. He felt no urgency on that score; at twenty-seven, he was younger than most of his acquaintances, when they began to consider marriage. The Darcys, except for his father, were a long-lived family. There was time yet.
He meant to remain detached from Elizabeth. He liked her, and although his fortune and name and good character were sufficient to win any woman's approval, she peculiarly seemed to like him in return. It was a singular sensation -- he was admired, yes, respected, yes, but he could not say that very many people, if any, liked him on his own merits. Darcy inhaled. And yet, despite his gratitude, despite the sincere affection he felt for her as a person -- and the other feelings for her as a woman -- he truly thought it best to avoid her. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing more contemptible than men who took advantage of women. Ever since he was child -- or rather, since he was old enough to understand all that he had seen as a child -- he had promised himself that he would never be one of those men. Elizabeth Bennet was a fine woman, intelligent, kind, beautiful, witty, everything a man could want -- not considering wealth, birth, and connections, of course -- and he thought far too highly of her to ill use her in any way.
And yet . . . there was something almost like carelessness in her manner with him -- as if she liked him well enough, but had no other expectations. His vanity was slightly pricked, but he knew it for the best. If it was understood that he felt only friendship towards her, and no intentions of anything else, then they could safely enjoy each other's company and conversation. He restrained himself admirably, and if he felt the impression of her hand on his, long after their impromptu dance at the Lucases' had ended, he shook the sensation off.
While all this was passing through his mind, he was accosted by Miss Bingley. He had realised for quite a while that she did not possess the critical faculties he had once attributed to her, but only a wish to think meanly of the rest of the world, with which sense and intelligence had nothing to do. There was a crassness to her that repelled him, and although he was easy enough with her, out of sheer familiarity, he did not like or approve of her.
"I can guess the subject of your reverie," she said archly. Darcy could not help but contrast the affected expression with Elizabeth's more genuine one.
"I should imagine not," he said, instantly reverting to his customary cold detachment.
"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner -- in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity and yet the noise; the nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people! --What would I give to hear your strictures on them!"
Darcy perversely did precisely the opposite, partly because he had no desire to hear her vapid criticisms, but largely out of sheer contrariness. "Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you," he said, with considerable enjoyment. "My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."
Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and Darcy, with the unerring instinct of the hunted, took a firm step backwards. She insisted on being told which lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Darcy replied with great intrepidity,
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" repeated Miss Bingley. "I am all astonishment." He did not doubt it. "How long has she been such a favourite? And pray, when am I to wish you joy?"
Darcy sighed. "That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy."
She immediately began teasing him as to his prospective mother-in-law (Darcy suppressed a fastidious shudder at the idea of Mrs Bennet
at Pemberley, but would not have obliged Miss Bingley for the world).
As his composure convinced her that all was safe, her wit flowed long.
She could not know that Darcy did not think she deserved the compliment
of rational opposition.