PRIDE & PREJUDICE: JANE AUSTEN: CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Till Elizabeth entered the drawing room of Netherfield, and looked in vain for Wickham among the cluster of red coats a doubt of his being present had never occurred to her.  In an instant arose the dreadful suspicion of his being purposefully omitted for Darcy's pleasure in Bingley's invitation to the officers.  The absolute cause of the absence was pronounced by Mr Denny.  That Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the day before, and yet not returned; adding with a significant smile, 'I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here."

This piece of the intelligence assured Elizabeth that Darcy was not less answerable for Wickham's absence. She was resolved against any sort of conversation with Darcy. She was not formed of ill-humour, though the prospects for the evening was destroyed. It could not dwell on her spirits for long. She told all griefs to Charlotte Lucas. Her attention was caught with the oddities of her cousin Mr Collins and brought it to the notice of Charlotte Lucas.

The first two dances, however brought a return of distress; they were dances of mortification.  Mr Collins, awkward and solemn, apologizing instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all shame and misery.  The moment of releas from him was ecstacy.

She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking 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 her suddenly addressed by Mr Darcy who took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, and that without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret her want of presence of mind; Charlotte tried to console her.

"I dare say you will find him agreeable."

"Heaven forbid!  That would be a misfortune.  Do not wish me such an evil."

When the dancing recommenced, and Darcy approached to claim her hand Charlotte could not help cautioning her in a whisper, not to be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man ten times his consequence.  Elizabeth made no answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr Darcy, and reading in her neighbours' looks, their equal amazement in beholding it.  They stood sometimes in silence, and she imagined it to last through two dances, and at first resolved not to break it, but suddenly fancying that it would be a greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on dance. He replied, and was again silent.  After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with - "It is your turn to say something now, Mr Darcy.  I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some sort of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples."

He smiled, and assureed her that whatever she wished him to say should be said. "Very well.  That reply would do for the present.  Perhaps by and by the private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent," said Elizabeth.

"Do you talk by rule, then, while you are talking?"

"Sometimes.  One must speak a little, you know.  It would look odd to be silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have trouble of saying as little as possible."

"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine."

"Both," replied Elizabeth, archly; "for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something, that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity, with all the eclat of a proverb."

"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he.  How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to be mine, I cannot 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 gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often walked to Meryton.  She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added, "when you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."

The effect was immediate.  A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, and 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 his making friends -- whether he may be capable of retaining them, is less certain."

"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied Elizabeth with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."

Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject.  At that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr Darcy, he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on dancing and his partner.

"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir.  Such very superior dancing is not often seen.  It is evident that you belong to the first circles.  Allow me to say, however, your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza, (glancing at her sister and Bingley) shall take place.  You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of the young lady whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me."

The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but sir William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him and his eyes were directed with a serious expression towards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together.

"Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of, said Mr Darcy.

"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted two people in the room who had less to say for themselves.  We have tried two or three subjects already without success, 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 with the same feelings."

"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of the subject. We may compare our different opinions."

"No - I can't talk of books in a ball room; my head is always full of something else."

"The present always occupies you - does it?" said he with a look of doubt.

"Yes, always," she said, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far; and as they came back she exclaimed, "I remember hearing you once, that you hardly forgave, that your resentment once seated was unappeasable.  You are cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."

"I am." 

"And never allow yourself to be bounded by prejudice."

"I hope not."

"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, 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 it out."

"And what is your success?"

She shook her head.  "I do not get on at all.  I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle exceedingly."

"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that reports may vary 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 no credit on either."

"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity."

"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,'' he coldly replied.  She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not equal degree, for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerable feeling towards her pardon, and directed all his anger towards another.

They had seperated.  Before long Miss Bingley came towards her and with an expression of civil disdain accosted her.

"So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham!  Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand questions, and I find out that young man quite forgot to tell you, that he was the son of old Wickham, the steward of late Mr Darcy.  Let me recommend you,  however, as a friend, not to give implicit confidence to all his assertions as to Mr Darcy's using him ill, it is perfectly false; for on the contrary he has always been remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham had treated Mr Darcy in a most infamous manner.  I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr Darcy is not the least to blame, that he cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother thought that he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way.  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 the same," said Elizabeth angrily; "for I have heard you accusing him of 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 a sneer.  "I excuse my interference - it was kindly meant."

"Insolent gir," said Elizabeth to herself, "you are much mistaken if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this.  I see nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr Darcy."  She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make inquiries on the same subject.  Jane met her with a smile of sweet complacency, a glow of happy expression, as sufficiently marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening.  Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and everything else, gave way before the hope of Jane's being in the fairest way for happiness.

"I want to know," said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her sister's 

"I want to know," said she smiling, "what you have learnt about Mr Wickham."

"I have nothing satisfactory to tell you about him.  Mr Bingley does not know the whole of his history, and does not know the circumstance which have offended Mr Darcy. But he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity and honour of Darcy.  Mr Wickham has deserved much less attention from Darcy than he has received.  And I am sorry to say by his account as well as his sister's, Mr Wickham is by no means a respectable young man.  I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and deserve to loss Mr Darcy's regard."

"Mr Bingley does not know Mr Wickham himself?"

"No, he never saw him till the other morning in Meryton."

"This account is then what he received from Mr Darcy. I am satisfied.  But what does he say of the living?"

"He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he had heard from Mr Darcy, more than once, but he believes that it was left to him conditionally only."

"I have not a doubt of Mr Bingley's sincerity," said Elizabeth warmly, "but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only.  Mr Bingley's defence of his friend was very able one, but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story ...."

She then changed the discourse to more general topics. On their being joined by Mr Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss Lucas.  Then Collins came with the discovery that there is the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in the assembly and he is going to pay his respects to him.

"You are going to introduce yourself to Mr Darcy?" asked Elizabeth.

"I am indeed.  I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier."

Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme.  Mr Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment. But he was obstinate in his decision.  It vexed her to see him expose himself to Mr Darcy.

Elizabeth turned her attention to her sister and Mr Bingley. The train of agreeable reflections which her observation gave birth to made her perhaps almost happy as Jane.  She saw her settled in that house, in all the falicity which a marriage of true affection could bestow.  Under such circumstances she began to like Bingley's two sisters.  She saw her mother's thoughts were bent the same way.

Mrs Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. Elizabeth's endeavour to check the rapidity of her words was in vain.  She could perceive Mr Darcy overhearing it, and she requested her mother to make them less audible.  Then came the the tirade against Mr Darcy.

"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 obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear."

"For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower.  What advantage can it be for you to offend Mr Darcy?  You will never recommend yourself to his friend by doing so."

There was no stop.  Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation.  She could not help glancing at Mr Darcy frequently, and the expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed steady gravity.

When the supper was over, singing was talked of.  Mary began her song. Song after song Mary was tired.  Mary's voice was weak, and her manner affected.  Elizabeth was in agonies; she looked at Jane, but Jane was very composed, talking to Mr Bingley.  She saw her sisters making signs of derision at each other.  Mr Darcy continued grave.  She looked at her father to entreat his interference.  He took the hint, and when Mary had finished her song, said aloud, "that will do extremely well, child.  You have delighted us so long. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit."

But Mary was beginning to sing another song, when Mr Collins interfered with his lengthy unending speech.  Then Elizabeth sought the help of Miss Lucas to get Mr Collins stop his sermon.

The Longbourn party were the last to depart, and, by a manoeuvre of Mrs Bennet, had to wait for the carriage a quarter of an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to see how heartily they were wished away by some of the family.  They were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves.

THE END