Interlude 4: Bingley's POV: Finding My Purpose

I am not made for idleness and dissipation, no matter what anyone else might think. Certainly, I like good company and gatherings of all sorts as well as the next man or perhaps even more, yes decidedly even more. I find happiness in being with people; I hate to be alone for long.

University provided for all sorts of gatherings: the classes themselves, the studying, the outings with friends, the visits round to see other fellows and sometimes their families. I enjoyed all things of this sort.

In this Darcy and I are polar opposites. He enjoys his solitude, a good book, quiet. I seek to fill places with people, conversation, liveliness. And yet I dare say we exert helpful influences on the other. He is like to a turtle, a snail or a mussel, ready to retreat inward at the first sign of difficulty. I try to pry him, just a little, from his shell, to show him that interacting with others is not nearly as perilous as he seems to believe.

And as for me, Darcy seeks to raise my level of thinking, to challenge me to be more. In this he is perhaps wasting his time. I am not brilliant and never will be. While I was never in much danger of being plucked at university, neither was I ever likely to be distinguished and take any honors. I was content to be just an average student, to serve my time as part of a necessary passage into the world of gentlemen. It was what my father wanted, after all.

My father did not attend university. He was a tradesman and very successful, too. Like me, he always liked to socialize and had a genuine interest in people. I believe this was responsible for much of his success as he never forgot a name or face, and always greeted everyone as if they were of great importance to him. I am convinced that he was not false in acting in such a way as truly to him whoever was before him at the moment was of most importance. I think I am like him in this way.

Father became very rich, but when he became rich, he began to be discontented. Although he loved the business, and all the people that both worked for him and his clients, he knew that his very success (other than of course the material gain), was a very real barrier to us having the place in life he wanted for us.

There was only one thing for Father to do which would place our family on the right path and make life better for us, his children. He sold his interest in the carriage making business to his brother and set about erasing any sign that it was ever his life. He rented a fine property in the country, but we were seldom there with him and Mother. Louisa and then Caroline were sent to a very exclusive finishing school; I was sent to Eton and then the university.

I think Father selling his business was the death of him. It was not from the loneliness engendered by our absence as he still had Mother of course and they were fond of each other, and there were certainly many events they could attend. No, it was the lack of purpose. For what had he to do? What reason did he have to get up each morning?

Mr. Hurst was born into this life and like a fish in a pond, simply stays motionless in one spot. I think he, too, could benefit from purpose but his lack of purpose does not seem to bother him at all. He seeks nothing different than what he knows, and his marriage to my sister does not seem to have caused much alteration in his life. He seems mostly indifferent to Louisa and she does not seem to expect anything different.

Sometimes I wonder why Louisa was so willing to accept such a marriage. Certainly, it cemented her elevation to the gentry, but of what value is that anyway? Almost any tradesman I know would have been an improvement over Mr. Hurst. Far better if Louisa had a simpler life where she had more to do than play with her bracelets and be a mere ornament for her husband's arm.

Mr. Hurst's only purpose seems to be indulgence and he excels at that. He enjoys fine spirits and fine exotic meals made with expensive spices imported from the East Indies. When there is no drinking or eating to be had, he naps until he can commence indulging again. He is only two years my senior and is already growing fat. What kind of a life is that?

Had Father sought my advice, I would have told him that I had no need to be more than he was, that the world will someday belong to those in trade rather than nobility and the landed, and I would have gladly followed in his footsteps. However, he did not ask. If he had, I am sure my voice would have been overwhelmed by that of my sisters who most certainly did want to move up in the world.

However, I should not complain too much about Mr. Hurst. There is no malice in him, and he lets me and Caroline both live with them in London (I have the means but not the will to live alone). Louisa never lacks for anything and I have never seen him lay a hand on her. He is mostly a good sort of man, underneath it all. But I do not want to be him.

Although I met many people in Meryton and liked many of them, I do not wish to emulate any of the gentlemen there. Mr. Bennet only enjoys his books and teasing others and I am neither made for a scholarly life nor for making sport of others.

While Sir William Lucas was elevated from his roots in trade, and we are perhaps similarly friendly by nature, I have no wish to be like him, living with no more purpose than merely to be friendly and good company for others. He used to be a tradesman, even after he became the mayor, or so I am told. But what has being knighted earned him? It did not take my sisters long to sniff out that Miss Lucas does not have much of a dowry. Undoubtedly had Sir William continued in his trade he might have far more to give his daughters and his sons.

I am not worried about the money father gifted me running out. It is well invested and profits me handsomely. There is nothing I need to do see it continue to grow.

While in my youth I was perfectly content to just enjoy myself outside of school, as time has gone by, I think I have developed a bit of wisdom, but that wisdom has only led to my discontent. I do not want my life to be a series of parties, outings, events. I do not want to flit merely from a hunting party, to attending a club, to a ball, to playing cards. I want purpose and meaning. So, what will my purpose be? I want something that I can take pride in, not the silly affectation of taking pride in doing something rapidly (be it writing too fast for my thoughts, leaving the countryside for the town or vice-versa), or the pride of keeping all things pleasant and easy and heading off arguments at every turn.

I know father wanted me to purchase an estate, to become landed, to lead our family where he could not. With such a plan in mind I rented Netherfield. But there is not enough purpose in this. Most gentlemen seem to do but very little. Work is beneath them, so they have stewards, attendants; I dare say that some are so lazy that they may not even clean their own arses.

If I had been raised to it, maybe I could run an estate myself, but I cannot make myself care about crops or livestock as Darcy does. While Adam when expelled from the Garden was to till the field, but surely we cannot all be laborers and a landowner is as removed from a laborer as he can be. Too, from what I understand most landowners have a steward manage most everything. I cannot find meaning in watching someone else do what I should and cannot take enough of an interest in farming to learn how to manage it myself. Why should I? Farming does not change overly much from what I can tell. Things will go on more or less how they have for hundreds of years without me.

I do not think I can find my meaning in life simply in marriage, although I must admit I considered something like this when I first spied Miss Bennet. She is so lovely and for a time, I could imagine her gracing my arm for a lifetime; we would have made a most handsome couple and have lovely fair children with blue eyes. She is exactly who father would have liked to see me marry, a gentlewoman, but not one whose own means would have her looking down on me.

When I resided at Netherfield the first time, Miss Bennet seemed to have no avarice, no guile. I imagined she would most willingly lead where I would follow (as Mother did for Father) and never cause me the least bit of grief. I enjoyed being in her company and she even did well with my sisters. But it is women who are supposed to find their meaning in life from marriage (that and bearing children), not men.

I cared most deeply for Miss Bennet's wellbeing. Though I had nothing to do with it, I felt responsible for her when I found she had become ill at Netherfield, and it was a most pleasant feeling to be responsible for someone else not of my blood. I liked her better than any other I have known. I thought that my feelings must be love. But she was altered when I returned to Netherfield, and all my fancies seemed just that.

In the end I decided that I never knew her and my search for a meaningful life would require me to look elsewhere. I found my mind returning again and again to considering how it was when my father was still working with his brother building carriages and how I still wished to follow in his footsteps rather than remain on the path he tried to set me on.