Pride and Prejudice (Clandestine Classics) (21 page)

Elizabeth looked at her sister with incredulous solicitude, but said nothing.

“You doubt me,” cried Jane, slightly colouring, “indeed, you have no reason. He may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my acquaintance, but that is all. I have nothing either to hope or fear, and nothing to reproach him with. Thank God! I have not
that
pain. A little time, therefore—I shall certainly try to get the better.”

With a stronger voice she soon added, “I have this comfort immediately, that it has not been more than an error of fancy on my side, and that it has done no harm to anyone but myself.”

“My dear Jane!” exclaimed Elizabeth, “you are too good. Your sweetness and disinterestedness are really angelic. I do not know what to say to you. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you deserve.”

Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit, and threw back the praise on her sister’s warm affection.

“Nay,” said Elizabeth, “this is not fair.
You
wish to think all the world respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of anybody. I only want to think
you
perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not be afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your privilege of universal good-will. You need not. There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it, and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense. I have met with two instances lately, one I will not mention. The other is Charlotte’s marriage. It is unaccountable! In every view it is unaccountable!”

“My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings as these. They will ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance enough for difference of situation and temper. Consider Mr Collins’s respectability, and Charlotte’s steady, prudent character. Remember that she is one of a large family, that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match, and be ready to believe, for everybody’s sake, that she may feel something like regard and esteem for our cousin.”

“To oblige you, I would try to believe almost anything, but no one else could be benefited by such a belief as this, for were I persuaded that Charlotte had any regard for him, I should only think worse of her understanding than I now do of her heart. My dear Jane, Mr Collins is a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man. You know he is, as well as I do. And you must feel, as well as I do, that the woman who married him cannot have a proper way of thinking. You shall not defend her, though it is Charlotte Lucas. You shall not, for the sake of one individual, change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor endeavour to persuade yourself or me, that selfishness is prudence, and insensibility of danger security for happiness.”

“I must think your language too strong in speaking of both,” replied Jane, “and I hope you will be convinced of it by seeing them happy together. But enough of this. You alluded to something else. You mentioned
two
instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I entreat you, dear Lizzy, not to pain me by thinking
that person
to blame, and saying your opinion of him is sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy ourselves intentionally injured. We must not expect a lively young man to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very often nothing but our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than it does.”

“And men take care that they should.”

“If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified, but I have no idea of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine.”

“I am far from attributing any part of Mr Bingley’s conduct to design,” said Elizabeth, “but without scheming to do wrong, or to make others unhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness, want of attention to other people’s feelings, and want of resolution, will do the business.”

“And do you impute it to either of those?”

“Yes, to the last. But if I go on, I shall displease you by saying what I think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you can.”

“You persist, then, in supposing his sisters influence him?”

“Yes, in conjunction with his friend.” Though Elizabeth did not want to believe that Mr Darcy had discouraged his friend’s feelings towards her sister, she was convinced that was the case. How could Mr Darcy recommend Jane knowing what he did about her family, about her? Shame and regret coursed through Elizabeth’s veins. Was she responsible for the demise of Jane’s happiness? Mr Bingley certainly held Mr Darcy’s opinion in high regard and would likely acquiesce on the matter, though it would undoubtedly affect his joyful disposition. Elizabeth suspected other factors accounted in part for Darcy’s decision to dissuade his friend, but she hated that her actions must have played a part, and a large part at that.

“I cannot believe it,” said Jane. “Why should they try to influence him? They can only wish his happiness, and if he is attached to me, no other woman can secure it.”

“Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides his happiness. They may wish his increase of wealth and consequence. They may wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, great connections, and pride.”

“Beyond a doubt, they
do
wish him to choose Miss Darcy,” replied Jane, “but this may be from better feelings than you are supposing. They have known her much longer than they have known me—no wonder if they love her better. But, whatever may be their own wishes, it is very unlikely they should have opposed their brother’s. What sister would think herself at liberty to do it, unless there were something very objectionable? If they believed him attached to me, they would not try to part us. If he were so, they could not succeed. By supposing such an affection, you make everybody acting unnaturally and wrong, and me most unhappy. Do not distress me by the idea. I am not ashamed of having been mistaken—or, at least, it is light, it is nothing in comparison of what I should feel in thinking ill of him or his sisters. Let me take it in the best light, in the light in which it may be understood.”

Elizabeth could not oppose such a wish, and from this time Mr Bingley’s name was scarcely ever mentioned between them.

Mrs Bennet still continued to wonder and repine at his returning no more, and though a day seldom passed in which Elizabeth did not account for it clearly, there was little chance of her ever considering it with less perplexity. Her daughter endeavoured to convince her of what she did not believe herself, that his attentions to Jane had been merely the effect of a common and transient liking, which ceased when he saw her no more. But though the probability of the statement was admitted at the time, she had the same story to repeat every day. Mrs Bennet’s best comfort was that Mr Bingley must be down again in the summer.

Mr Bennet treated the matter differently. “So, Lizzy,” said he one day, “your sister is crossed in love, I find. I congratulate her. Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction among her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to be long outdone by Jane. Now is your time. Here are officers enough in Meryton to disappoint all the young ladies in the country. Let Wickham be
your
man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably.”

“Thank you, sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfy me. We must not all expect Jane’s good fortune.”

“True,” said Mr Bennet, “but it is a comfort to think that whatever of that kind may befall you, you have an affectionate mother who will make the most of it.”

Mr Wickham’s society was of material service in dispelling the gloom which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the Longbourn family. They saw him often, and to his other recommendations was now added that of general unreserve. The whole of what Elizabeth had already heard, his claims on Mr Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him, was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed, and everybody was pleased to know how much they had always disliked Mr Darcy before they had known anything of the matter.

Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might be any extenuating circumstances in the case. Unknown to the society of Hertfordshire, her mild and steady candour always pleaded for allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes, but by everybody else Mr Darcy was condemned as the worst of men. Elizabeth could only take solace in the fact that she had never overly liked him, despite her conflicted feelings after their passionate and unrestrained kisses, and the way he had pleasured her or the affinity she had experienced in his company—even during their most impassioned disagreements. But her body often betrayed her mind, for she had an ache within that simply would not abate—a fiery desire to be ravished and consumed, and on the occasions she allowed herself to indulge in her fantasies, it was Darcy who always played the leading role. On each occasion she remembered what had happened between them, recalled that her body had felt as though it were on a precipice and his hands and mouth had thrown her over the very edge. But as always her thoughts of him were accompanied by shame, and the guilt of what she had done and what her actions had caused her sister ate her up inside.

Chapter Twenty-Five

After a week spent in professions of love and schemes of felicity, Mr Collins was called from his amiable Charlotte by the arrival of Saturday. The pain of separation, however, might be alleviated on his side, by preparations for the reception of his bride, as he had reason to hope, that shortly after his return into Hertfordshire, the day would be fixed that was to make him the happiest of men. He took leave of his relations at Longbourn with as much solemnity as before, wished his fair cousins health and happiness again, and promised their father another letter of thanks.

On the following Monday, Mrs Bennet had the pleasure of receiving her brother and his wife, who came as usual to spend the Christmas at Longbourn. Mr Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatly superior to his sister, as well by nature as education. The Netherfield ladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man who lived by trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been so well-bred and agreeable. Mrs Gardiner, who was several years younger than Mrs Bennet and Mrs Phillips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant woman, and a great favourite with all her Longbourn nieces. Between the two eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a particular regard. They had frequently been staying with her in town.

The first part of Mrs Gardiner’s business on her arrival was to distribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. When this was done she had a less active part to play. It became her turn to listen. Mrs Bennet had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. They had all been very ill-used since she last saw her sister. Two of her girls had been upon the point of marriage, and after all there was nothing in it.

“I do not blame Jane,” she continued, “for Jane would have got Mr Bingley if she could. But Lizzy! Oh, sister! It is very hard to think that she might have been Mr Collins’s wife by this time, had it not been for her own perverseness. He made her an offer in this very room, and she refused him. The consequence of it is, that Lady Lucas will have a daughter married before I have, and that the Longbourn estate is just as much entailed as ever. The Lucases are very artful people indeed, sister. They are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of them, but so it is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted so in my own family, and to have neighbours who think of themselves before anybody else. However, your coming just at this time is the greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us, of long sleeves.”

Mrs Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news had been given before, in the course of Jane and Elizabeth’s correspondence with her, made her sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her nieces, turned the conversation.

When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. “It seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane,” said she. “I am sorry it went off. But these things happen so often! A young man, such as you describe Mr Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty girl for a few weeks, and when accident separates them, so easily forgets her, that these sort of inconsistencies are very frequent.”

“An excellent consolation in its way,” said Elizabeth, “but it will not do for
us
. We do not suffer by
accident
. It does not often happen that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of independent fortune to think no more of a girl whom he was violently in love with only a few days before.”

“But that expression of ‘violently in love’ is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings which arise from a half-hour’s acquaintance, as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how
violent was
Mr Bingley’s love?”

“I never saw a more promising inclination. He was growing quite inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he offended two or three young ladies, by not asking them to dance, and I spoke to him twice myself, without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?”

“Oh, yes!—of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor Jane! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get over it immediately. It had better have happened to
you
, Lizzy, you would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think she would be prevailed upon to go back with us? Change of scene might be of service—and perhaps a little relief from home may be as useful as anything.”

Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased with this proposal, and felt persuaded of her sister’s ready acquiescence, but on Mrs Gardiner’s other point, Elizabeth could not agree. She was not certain how easily she would have laughed off the same situation were she in her sister’s shoes, especially if it had happened between her and Mr Darcy. She could barely stop thinking of him now and that was without any design or expectation of marriage.