Mr. Darcy... had a fine tall person, handsome
features, noble mien... and ten thousand pounds a
year, but not all his large estate in Derbyshire could
save him from being proud, above his company and
above being pleased.
It is a consequence of possessing an income of ten thousand pounds a year that a man may order his life to his own liking, and choose his own society.
The tall and handsome young man surveying his estate from the first floor window had much to be proud of, and few matters to regret. The estate at Pemberley was ten miles round. The gracious prospect from the house overlooked a verdant valley where the stream had been dammed to form a lake in the foreground. The vista over the park extended across to the woods beyond, where the view widened and the slopes on the far side blended with the trees across the hills to each side. Beyond, the High Peak could be seen in the distance. It was a view of which its owner never wearied; and one of many reasons why he was happier in Derbyshire than in any other place.
“You never tire of that view, Darcy?” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“No,” he replied, turning to look at his cousin, “but should I?”
“I do not value the landscape of Derbyshire as highly as you do, perhaps, but I dare say that if I had inherited such a handsome house and a fine estate myself, I might have the same preference.”
Darcy smiled and answered, “All you lack is a wealthy wife; make a prudent marriage, and you could be in the same position.”
His cousin paused for a few moments before saying, “I do not need an heiress to a great estate, just someone whose fortune would compensate for my being the younger son, rather than having the prospect of being the next Earl ___. And I myself give some priority to the lady being agreeable, as you should.”
Darcy made no reply to this, but gazed at the prospect over the lake for some time. Then he turned to Fitzwilliam. “Seeing the new growth on the trees at this time of year reminds me that both my mother and later my father died in this month.” He paused, and then added, “I am glad to have your company for a few days, for I find it easy to become melancholy in May, indeed resentful that my mother was taken from me so early.”
Fitzwilliam reflected it was a very great pity that the late Mr. George Darcy had also not lived longer.
“Your parents were very fond of each other,” said Fitzwilliam.
“Yes,” said Darcy, “indeed, a rarity in our level of society, I am sure you would agree?”
“You are thinking of Lady Catherine, our aunt, and Sir Lewis de Bourgh, I suppose?”
“They are but one example,” said his cousin.
“But do not forget,” said Fitzwilliam, “that your mother was very young at the time of her marriage, so that her disposition was not set, whereas our aunt was not only the elder sister, but was two and thirty when she wed. In any case, her marriage was not so much unhappy as more formal. And you should recall that Sir Lewis was an elderly widower when they met, and died only three years later, when his daughter was only two years old. At least his will left Lady Catherine a considerable fortune, together with a very handsome house and with the estate at Rosings in trust for our cousin Anne.”
“But if you are trying to suggest,” said Darcy testily, “that a gentleman whom our aunt had met taking the waters at Bath, and who was very nearly a contemporary of our grandfather, could have had a really happy marriage with someone of such strong opinions as Lady Catherine, I do not believe you!”
Fitzwilliam reflected to himself that Lady Catherine could more properly be described as arrogant, with an ill concealed contempt for her inferiors in society. Indeed, he knew that Darcy himself could appear to be disdainful in company. Although he had inherited his father’s shy, reserved disposition and dislike of the social round in town, in many other respects his cousin strongly resembled his mother, having a strong sense of his social position and being jealous of his ancestry and the possession of his great estate.
“Perhaps it would have been as useful if Sir Lewis could have bequeathed Anne better health rather than so large a fortune, for she was a sickly child from the beginning,” said Fitzwilliam. “But you must excuse me, for I must make preparations for when we leave tomorrow.”
Darcy returned to sit at the table where he had been writing a letter to Georgiana.
His sister, more than ten years his junior, had been left on their father’s death five years earlier to the guardianship of himself and his cousin Fitzwilliam. Although she was happiest when in Derbyshire, since their bereavement Georgiana had lived mainly in London, so that she might have access to the best of tutors, and be instructed in music and dancing prior to her being presented at court.
She was now some fifteen years of age, and had lately left school. Darcy had recently employed a Mrs. Younge as his sister’s companion, who had been recommended by an acquaintance of his uncle, the Earl ___, for whom she had occupied a similar post. At the suggestion of Mrs. Younge, who knew the place well, she and Georgiana were shortly to travel from Darcy’s house in London to Ramsgate, to take the sea air for a few weeks.
They were to break their journey at Rosings, the home of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter Anne, who was several years’ younger than Darcy. He himself had recently spent a few days with Fitzwilliam there on his annual visit, but with little enjoyment from the company of his aunt and cousin.
On Lady Catherine’s insistence, Georgiana and Mrs. Younge were to be accompanied on their journey through Kent by a pair of manservants, in addition to the coachman and his assistant, as outriders alongside the chaise.
He took up the letter that he had most recently received from his sister.
I know, my dear brother, that you wish us to visit my aunt on our journey. I confess that lately I find her manner rather severe for my taste, and her strictures on my accomplishments compared to those of Anne rather dispiriting.
Here he paused.
His recollection was that, despite the little time she spent in society, their cousin’s health had not enabled her to acquire many accomplishments, save a very proper disdain for inferior companions and a rather constant concern for her own indispositions.
Certainly, any talents Anne might possess were far inferior to those of his sister, although Georgiana was several years younger. However, he was aware that his aunt considered those accomplishments that her daughter lacked would be well within her abilities, should her health ever permit her to acquire them.
“Mrs. Younge tells me that there will be company enough for me in Ramsgate—someone whom we know well from Derbyshire.
I will write to you in London once we have arrived.
Your loving sister,
Georgiana”
Darcy wondered who the someone from Derbyshire could be, as he was not aware of any friend who might be in Kent at present. For a moment, he thought to add to his reply, to mention that he might have time from his business in town to join them for a few days.
However, that was not certain, so he left his letter as it was.
The family at Pemberley was well respected in the neighbourhood and, although properly conscious of his position as one of the wealthiest men in the country, the late Mr. George Darcy had been a conscientious employer and benevolent to the poor. Fitzwilliam Darcy had continued his father’s habit of giving charity to the deserving without seeking to have it known, as well as Mr. George Darcy’s interest in the fine library at Pemberley.
It was during one of his rare visits to London to consult his attorney that George Darcy had met his wife, Lady Anne, daughter of the late Earl ___, in her first season. Her family had considered a marriage to the owner of one of the richest estates in the country eminently suitable for their younger daughter.
George and Lady Anne Darcy had had little in common with their sister in Kent, save considerable wealth and position. However, they were both aware of their family responsibilities. Although Mr. George Darcy had rarely made the journey when he visited town, Lady Anne had been to Rosings regularly.
Before his mother’s premature demise, when his sister Georgiana was but a small child, Darcy had gone with them both to stay with Lady Catherine several times a year. Lady Anne’s death had been a severe blow to him, leaving him with no close confidant but his cousin Fitzwilliam. Since that unhappy event, Darcy had reduced his attendance on his aunt to one annual visit, and usually went to stay in Kent in the Spring, a few weeks after Easter.
When the weather was inclement, there was little entertainment at Rosings, and Lady Catherine could be a demanding companion. For that reason, Darcy often asked Fitzwilliam to go with him, to provide some relief to his aunt’s strictures, and offer more congenial company.
Lady Catherine’s opportunities to travel to Pemberley were restricted by her daughter Anne’s ill-health and the distance to Derbyshire from Kent. She did, however, make regular visits to the spa at Bath in the hope of improving her daughter’s condition, staying with an elderly relative who had a spacious house just off Laura Place.
Wherever she was, she took it upon herself to supervise her nephew and niece from a distance, by writing regularly to advise them on their conduct, their choice of companions, and the limited number of families with whom it was proper for them to associate.
From her most recent communications, Darcy understood that Lady Catherine considered the time was approaching when he should consider marriage. She had hinted strongly that she had one particular lady in mind, that she and her sister had agreed many years ago that this marriage should be made within the family, and to her daughter Anne.
To this idea he was indifferent. At six years and twenty, Darcy was in no hurry to marry.
On leaving the university, Darcy had very soon discovered that young ladies of consequence and of marriageable age were more than happy to be in his company, and that their mothers did their best to entice him to accept social invitations and to put their daughters in his way.
He, however, disliked the season and as far as he could avoided attendance at the social functions in London. He was equally disinclined to attend formal balls and dances at home in Derbyshire, or elsewhere in the country where his friends resided. In any case, he had yet to meet any young woman who took his interest.
He doubted that he would be as fortunate as his father, in finding in his marriage both a person of equal social position (a paramount consideration), and whom he could also regard with the affection that had so manifestly subsisted between his parents. That combination was, as Darcy had noted too often, unlikely to be attained by most people of his own status and fortune.
However, he did agree with his aunt, Lady Catherine, that his future wife must above all be from a family of background and repute equal to his own, as one of the richest men of consequence in the country.
After luncheon, the two young men walked through the house. The sight of a miniature on the wall prompted Fitzwilliam to ask Darcy a question.
“I am surprised that you keep an image of that gentleman. I thought that your fears about his disposition had proved to be justified?”
“Yes,” replied Darcy, “but this room has been left as it was when my father died, in respect for his memory. In any case, George Wickham’s father was a faithful servant to mine, and very kind to me also. He devoted most of his life to running this estate.”
“A pity,” his cousin replied, “that he did not take more care in his marriage, for his wife was not only much younger, but was also a woman of very extravagant habits, and with a frivolous disposition.”
Darcy did not reply.
“I have also heard,” said Fitzwilliam, “that George Wickham has been putting it about that you did not discharge your responsibilities to him in accordance with your father’s wishes.”
“Yes,” said Darcy shortly, “but, as you know, there is no truth in that. I hope never to have any more dealings with that gentleman. Hopefully, when I paid him off, that was the end of it.”
His cousin’s remark reminded Darcy that young Mr. Wickham had been born within a few months of himself. The owner of Pemberley had gladly consented to be godfather to the child of his steward, who was named after him. The boy had been a great favourite of Mr. Darcy, to the extent that his own son had sometimes been jealous of young George Wickham’s pleasing address, good figure and very happy readiness of conversation.
The cost of sending the steward’s son to school and later to Cambridge had been borne by his godfather. When they were young, the two boys had been regular companions. However, his own acquaintance with the son as he grew to manhood had convinced Darcy that young Mr. Wickham had not inherited the integrity or abilities that had served his father so well. At college, Darcy saw the young man turn to frivolous and dissolute habits, of which his benefactor had remained unaware.
When Darcy’s father died, he had asked in his will that provision be made for George Wickham. If the young man desired to take holy orders, the request was that a valuable family living should be his. Mr. George Darcy also left his godson the sum of one thousand pounds.
The steward had not long survived his master. Within half a year of leaving Cambridge, young Mr. Wickham decided against holy orders and accepted instead the sum of three thousand pounds from Darcy, saying that he intended to study for the law.
Darcy had doubted the likelihood of Wickham applying himself to that profession. He had heard nothing more of his childhood companion, since the day several years ago when the sum of money agreed had been paid to him, until Wick-ham had written to him when the living at Kympton on the Pemberley estate had become vacant. He said that he had spent the money paid to him, that he had changed his mind, and would now like to go into the Church. He had asked for the living, which included an excellent parsonage house.
Darcy had not deigned to reply himself, but had instructed his attorney to write, saying that all Mr. George Darcy’s intentions had been met by paying Wickham a much larger sum than that mentioned in the will.
The living at Kympton was then given to a worthy young man already known to the Darcy family, who appeared to have a true vocation for the Church.
On the morrow, Darcy left his instructions for the estate and the house for the next few weeks with his steward and with Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper at Pemberley, who had been with the family since he was a child. He then left in the chaise with Fitzwilliam. After the first day’s travel, he said farewell to his cousin, who left to take the stage to Essex to see his family near Chelmsford.
On Darcy’s arrival in town, he did not find a letter waiting for him from his sister as he had hoped. Instead, there was a note from his friend Charles Bingley, saying that he had been detained in Scarborough where his sisters were residing for a few weeks. However, he wrote that he should be in town within a few days, staying with his brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, whose house was but a short walk from Darcy’s mansion in the Square.
They had become friends whilst at Cambridge, and Darcy had introduced the younger man to his father, who had enjoyed the company of Bingley on the few occasions they had met before the death of Mr. George Darcy. An easy going, good-looking young man now of some three and twenty years, Bingley came from a respectable family in the north of England. Although the fortune had come from trade, he had inherited property amounting to nearly an hundred thousand pounds from his father. He enjoyed country pursuits and, on leaving the University, had considered purchasing an estate, or at least taking a lease of a property. So far, he had not been able to find a place to his liking.
Bingley was as easily pleased by female company as his friend Darcy was not. He was often in love, but as quickly changed his mind. He had easy, unaffected manners, and was always happy to defer to the superior understanding and judgement of his friend on any topic. After the death of his father, Darcy had been glad of the company of his friend, since at that time his sister, Georgiana, had been but ten years old and away at school.
Bingley had two older sisters. The elder, Louisa, had married Mr. Hurst some years earlier, a man more of fashion than fortune with a house in town in Grosvenor Street. The younger, Miss Caroline Bingley, was a little older than Darcy and of an age when many of her contemporaries were now married. Each had a fortune of twenty thousand pounds.
Darcy was regularly in the company of the two sisters when they were with their brother, and found their concern for their place in society, and their habit of associating only with people of rank, very proper. Both sisters were very fine ladies, although seen by their inferiors as proud and conceited.
The following afternoon, Darcy visited his attorney, Mr. Stone, to discuss his business affairs. On his return, he found a letter waiting for him from Georgiana.
He took his favourite seat in the drawing room, facing the window onto the Square, and began to read.
My dear brother,
We called in at Rosings as I promised.
Our cousin Anne was unwell, and kept to her room. However, Mrs. Younge and I took luncheon with Lady Catherine before continuing on our journey. Our aunt had messages for you that I will pass on when we next meet.
Mrs. Younge and I are now well settled in our lodgings, and Ramsgate is a most delightful place.
We are walking every day along the front by the sea to watch the ebb and flow of the tides. We have also taken a carriage out into the country; there are many pretty lanes and woods to see round about.
I am very much enjoying the opportunity to renew my acquaintance with the gentleman whom I mentioned to you in my last letter. He knows Mrs. Younge quite well, and is just as delightful a companion as I remember him.
He says that I should not tell you anything of his being here, which seems to me a little strange. I have not seen him for more than 5 years, when he returned to Pemberley with you while you were both at Cambridge.
If I say that his name begins with W, I shall not be breaking my promise to him to keep our secret.
Your loving sister
Georgiana.
Darcy read the letter twice through.
Suddenly, a terrible thought came to him. He leapt to his feet and called to his man to pack an overnight bag, and get the carriage to the door within half an hour.
The journey to Ramsgate seemed to take an unconscionable time. The carriage passed within a few miles of his aunt’s home at Rosings, but Darcy was in no mood to pause. He urged the coachman on, but the recent rain had made the going difficult, and it was late in the evening before he reached Ramsgate, and secured a room at the Inn in the main square. Before retiring for the night, he sent his coachman to search out where his sister’s lodgings were situated, and told him to report early the following day.
On his calling at the rooms on the next morning after breakfast, Georgiana had been surprised but delighted to see him.
Mrs. Younge’s enthusiasm had been much more muted.
Darcy soon found out why in private conversation with his sister. On questioning her as gently as he could, she had confirmed to him that the visitor she had been seeing was Mr. Wickham, whom she had recalled fondly from her childhood acquaintance. After a little further discourse with her brother, Georgiana had confessed that she thought that she was in love, and they were planning to elope together. A carriage to Scotland was already ordered by Wickham for the following morning.
Darcy lost no time. He was directed to where Wickham was staying, a few streets away, and found him making preparation for leaving the next day.
Wickham had always had, in Darcy’s recollection, the ability to turn any situation to his own advantage, and he sought to do so now.
“Why, Darcy,” he said, “this is a most pleasant surprise, for I did not know that you were planning a visit to Ramsgate. Is this a part of the country with which you are familiar? I had thought that you were away in the north just now.”
“So my sister tells me!” said Darcy, since he did not wish to prolong the interview.
Wickham had the grace to look a little discomforted, but said, “She has become a very charming young lady. I have been enjoying her company, as she may have told you.”
Darcy had to admire his confidence, but said only “Or is it her fortune that you seek to enjoy?”
“You always assume the worst of me, do you not, Darcy?”
“I have good reason to do so, and certainly on this occasion. Georgiana is but fifteen years’ old, and yet you were planning to marry her without the consent of either of her guardians!”
And Darcy told him to leave Ramsgate immediately, to cease all and every communication with Georgiana, and never to contact her again.
“And should you think of making any aspect of this affair public, I will ensure that the circumstances are known wherever in society you choose to impose yourself.”
He knew that even Wickham’s charm and ease of conversing would not preserve some remnant of his reputation in polite society if the truth were to become generally known. But that would also damage Georgiana, and therefore such public exposure was to be avoided if at all possible.
Wickham left the town that day, leaving Darcy to deal with Mrs. Younge.
The interview with that lady was painful but also of short duration, Darcy making it quite clear that she had betrayed his trust, and that she was immediately discharged from his service.
After she had left the house, Darcy went up to see Georgiana. He told her as little as he could about Wickham’s dissolute ways, but did explain that, whatever arts might have been used to gain her affections, the young man had been much more interested in his sister’s fortune of thirty thousand pounds than in any else that he might have suggested.
Georgiana took this news with great distress, being of a trusting nature. She was so ignorant of the ways of the world that it had never occurred to her that she had been grievously deceived, nor that her actions would have unwittingly angered her most beloved brother.
He and his sister left together for London the next day, where Darcy took steps to replace Mrs. Younge without delay. After consulting his cousin Fitzwilliam as joint guardian to Georgiana, Darcy was able to procure the services of Mrs. Annesley, a refined and pleasant woman who seemed to be well qualified to be a companion for his sister.
After a few days, her spirits began to revive, and she returned to her artistic pursuits, in drawing and her love of playing the piano-forte. The following week, Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley accompanied Darcy to Derbyshire, where his friend Charles Bingley joined them. He did not return to town until the early autumn when his sister’s spirits were fully recovered. Bingley took a different route south, whilst Georgiana travelled with her brother.
The next week, Bingley arrived in town to stay with Darcy. He was full of a new enthusiasm for the counties north of London. On his journey, Bingley had been on a tour through Hertfordshire, and had been very taken by the country around the small town of Meryton.
Having found that a suitable property, Netherfield Park, was available, and after inspecting its situation and the principal rooms for half an hour, he had taken it on a short lease.
“So you see, Darcy,” he said, “you must join me there. I shall take possession before Michaelmas. The sport for game in the park at Netherfield is promising, so we gentlemen at least will be well suited. I have hired servants who are to be in the house by the end of next week. I shall return to London once everything is settled there, and you and my sisters with Mr. Hurst must come down and join me.”
“And I suppose,” said his friend, “that you will try to convince me that I shall enjoy country ways and local assemblies...”
“But of course, my dear fellow!” said Bingley heartily, clapping his friend on the back. “And will Georgiana like to come with us?”
Darcy knew that his sister was very shy of being in any kind of company after her disappointment in Ramsgate. He had heard that Wickham had lately gone into the militia, although he knew not where. The manner in which her involvement with that gentleman had been dealt with hopefully meant that the affair never need be mentioned to anyone, least of all Bingley’s sisters who delighted so in gossip.
Darcy had recently become aware that Georgiana did not find Miss Caroline Bingley very easy company, and did not welcome her staying with them at Pemberley. So he declined the pleasure of a visit to Hertfordshire on her behalf, using as the excuse that instruction with her music master would detain Georgiana in town with Mrs. Annesley.
Bingley was as good as his word, and some two weeks later was back in town to relate how his excursion into the country had gone.
He was able to report that his new neighbours had made him most welcome. Within a few days of his arrival in Hertfordshire, a number of gentlemen had waited on him.
One of the first of these had been a Mr. Bennet, a gentleman of limited fortune, who lived with his wife and five daughters in the largest house at Longbourn, a small place just outside Meryton. He had proved to be a man of sharp wits and literary conversation, aspects of character that were not Bingley’s greatest strengths. However, the call had passed pleasantly enough.
Bingley had engaged to return his courtesy within a few days, having learned from other local acquaintances that the two eldest daughters, the Misses Jane and Elizabeth, were considered to be beauties and amongst the fairest young ladies in the County. On the next Friday, therefore, Bingley had ridden the mile over to Longbourn to return the visit.
He reported that it was a pleasant property, well situated, with an extensive shrubbery to one side but with modest grounds, and surrounded by its own farmland. Bingley had spent ten minutes with Mr. Bennet in his library, and was sorry to leave without having the opportunity of seeing any of the young ladies, although he had been glad to learn that the Misses Bennet enjoyed dancing.
A Sir William Lucas had also called, who was father to a large family and also lived in the neighbourhood of Nether-field. Bingley had been encouraged by Sir William to take a party to the next assembly in Meryton after his return to Hertfordshire.
“Is that not a capital plan?” said Bingley to his friend.
Darcy regarded him with a quizzical eye.
“I cannot recall how many times I have tried to impress upon you that my knowledge of the exercise is not matched by any enthusiasm for dancing with young ladies unknown to me.”
“A ball is,” he went on, “a vastly over-rated pastime, calculated to satisfy the desires of mothers who wish to expose me to their daughters with a view to marriage. The only result is to require me to make conversation with the same tiresome young lady for half an hour at a time, without any chance of relief, whilst the whole of the room speculates on our future marriage and her good fortune!”
“Darcy,” said his friend, “you are too sensitive. Of all the people I know, you are the most able to repel unwanted interest in a short sentence.”
“But why invite such interest,” Darcy replied, “if I do not wish to dance in the first place! I can not remember an occasion when I have obtained the pleasure you seem to find from taking the hand of a passably pretty woman in front of an assembled company.”
Bingley protested. “It is high time, then, that you did encounter a young lady to interest you. And what better way than to meet the daughters of my new neighbours at a ball in the local assembly rooms?”
Since this appeared to be a subject on which they were unlikely to agree, Darcy did not pursue the point. Instead, he made sure that Georgiana was happily settled in town with Mrs. Annesley before he left with his friend for Hertfordshire, accompanied by Bingley’s sisters and Mr. Hurst.
“My dear Mr. Darcy,” said Caroline Bingley, “how will Louisa and I be able to support spending this whole evening at the ball at Meryton? I cannot abide country manners and noisy music! Can you not persuade my brother, even now, that we should stay here at home?”
“I fear not, Madam,” said Darcy, who was leaning against the fireplace in the drawing room at Netherfield Park. “He is quite set on going, and on us accompanying him. I doubt very much whether Hertfordshire is as well provided with pretty young women as he has chosen to believe. But I regret that I have failed to persuade him to find any other better form of amusement acceptable for this evening.”
At that moment, the object of their conversation entered the room, attired for the ball.
Miss Bingley pursued her attempt to divert their brother from his purpose. “Are you really determined,” she said, “that we shall spend the evening with tradesmen’s daughters and elderly dowagers?”
“I can never understand,” replied her brother, “why you and Louisa must be so difficult to please, when we all have the prospect of such a pleasant evening in Meryton! Come, Darcy, all of you, a little social dancing will do you the world of good!”
And, within the hour, his chaise had delivered them to Meryton.
When they entered the assembly rooms, a group of musicians was busy playing a reel. All around him, it seemed to Darcy that very many ladies of all ages were regarding Bingley and his party with too much interest, whilst in the centre of all was an assortment of couples performing a dance with less than great ability. To Darcy, the evening did not seem to promise well.
The party from Netherfield was soon introduced to many of the company by Sir William Lucas, who took considerable pride in explaining to Darcy that he had been presented at court, and therefore was of some consequence in local society.
Within a few minutes, Darcy saw Bingley as usual quickly making the acquaintance of many of those assembled. His friend’s easy manners and willingness to be pleased soon found favour with the company. He was lively and unreserved, was soon dancing every dance, expressed anger to learn that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield.
Darcy observed all this as he walked about the room, averting his eyes from those he passed by, and hoping that Bingley’s sisters would return soon from dancing so that he had at least someone civilised to speak with.
He could not share his friend’s pleasure in the evening. Sir William’s attentions were intrusive, everywhere there seemed to be over-dressed matrons who looked up expectantly as he passed, eager to see whether he paused to ask one of their daughters to dance. The music was loud, the standard of dancing indifferent, and he saw no-one with whom any conversation could be a pleasure. He did observe that Bingley seemed much taken with the young lady who had been introduced as the elder Miss Bennet, a tall and graceful girl with pleasant manners, with whom he had danced twice.
During a break in the music, Bingley came over for a few minutes, to press his friend to join in.
“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”
“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”
“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, as I have this evening; and there are several of them you can see uncommonly pretty.”
“On the contrary, you are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.
“Oh! she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters, Miss Elizabeth, sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say, very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”
“Which do you mean?” Darcy said. He turned round, and he looked for a moment at the young woman sitting close by till, catching her eye, he withdrew his own. She was talking to a tall serious young lady whom Sir William Lucas had introduced earlier as his eldest daughter.
“She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me,” Darcy said.
“In any case, I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”
Bingley protested but, having no success in his quest, he followed his friend’s advice.
Darcy was left to reflect that with family, fortune and everything in his favour, he was entitled to do as he pleased. There was certainly no reason why he should dance with someone who, because of the scarcity of gentlemen, had been obliged to sit out two dances. Besides that, the conversation that he had overheard between her mother and younger sisters showed them to be vulgar, loud and ill-educated.
By the end of the evening, Darcy had danced once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley. He had rebuffed the efforts of Sir William Lucas to introduce him to any other ladies. He could recall nothing of enjoyment, no conversation worth remembering. Indeed, his greatest pleasure was when the evening came to an end.
Bingley’s company was welcome to Darcy precisely because they were so different in character and temperament. In understanding Darcy was the superior; Bingley was able, but his friend was clever. He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well bred, were not inviting. In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley was sure of being liked wherever he appeared, whereas Darcy was continually giving offence.
A thoughtful observer might consider that Darcy’s reluctance to mix in company might be due to the shyness inherited from his father as well as the position in the world on which some of his mother’s family relied, regarding most people as not being worthy of notice. However, these were not considerations of which he was aware.
Darcy never spoke much away from familiar surroundings. Although he was one of the most attentive and best of brothers, only with his immediate family and close friends did he relax and, when he chose, could be very agreeable. Since he had yet to meet any lady whose approbation he wished to seek, Darcy in no way sought to hide his own distaste for company, and his resentment of the need to be sociable. Bingley’s elder sister, Caroline, he acknowledged to have a sharp wit, and she was not always unwelcome when she accompanied her brother, but Darcy had never considered her as a possible wife for himself. She might be handsome in the current fashion, but her ignorance of books and country pursuits, and his own lack of interest in her person, ruled her out from being eligible.
The manner in which the Netherfield party spoke of the Meryton assembly thereafter was characteristic of both Bin-gley and his friend Darcy.
As far as the assembly at Meryton was concerned, Bingley had never met with pleasanter people or prettier girls in his life; everybody had been most kind and attentive to him, there had been no formality, no stiffness, and he had soon felt acquainted with all the room. As to the eldest Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and from none received either attention or pleasure.
He commented that Bingley had danced with one of the few young women in the room, Miss Charlotte Lucas, who despite her father’s apparent inability to make any serious conversation, had much that was sensible to say. Miss Bennet, Darcy acknowledged to be pretty, but she smiled too much, and as for the parents and younger sisters...
Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed that Miss Jane Bennet smiled rather often. However, having observed their brother’s interest, they decided that they should pronounce her to be a sweet girl, and one whom they should not object to know more of. Darcy and his sisters’ approbation was sufficient to encourage Bingley’s continuing interest in the delightful Miss Bennet.
The Bennet ladies waited on those at Netherfield, and the visit was in due course returned. Caroline Bingley related to Darcy with relish the limited extent of the park at Longbourn, the worn and unfashionable furnishings in the house, and the vulgar and noisy behaviour of Mrs. Bennet and the youngest daughters. It was not, she said firmly, the type of company with which she usually associated, although she said again that the eldest Miss Bennet was a sweet, charming girl. She was not so complimentary about the second daughter, Miss Elizabeth, or her father, Mr. Bennet, both of whom she found too sharp, and too able to match her own wit.
In the fortnight after the Meryton assembly, Bingley and the eldest Miss Bennet met from time to time, although always in large mixed parties. Having danced four dances with her at Meryton; he saw her one morning at Netherfield, and dined in company with her on four occasions.
For Darcy, an unexpected consequence of Bingley’s developing interest in that lady was that he found himself often in the company of her sister. Without first being aware of it, and against his will, Darcy found himself becoming conscious of the presence of Miss Elizabeth Bennet whenever they were together, and of his being disappointed when she was not present.
Having rejected his friend’s opinion of her at Meryton, he had begun by assuming that she was, like her mother and her younger sisters Mary, Catherine and Lydia, well below his consideration. But no sooner had he made this very clear to himself and to his friends, than he began to find more than a passing pleasure in her lively expression, the quickness of mind displayed in her conversation, and the quality of her dark eyes. He had to concede that her figure was more than light and pleasing and he was caught by the easy playfulness of her manners.
As ever, he was not confident of his skills in discourse, but as a step towards speaking with her himself, Darcy began often to attend to her conversation with others.
A large party was assembled at Sir William Lucas’s, and Darcy had been in a group with his host’s eldest daughter, Charlotte, whom he had observed was often in company with her close friend, Miss Elizabeth.
Those attending the party included Colonel Forster, who commanded a regiment newly stationed at Meryton, and Darcy overheard Miss Elizabeth Bennet conversing with Miss Lucas.
“What does Mr. Darcy mean,” said she, “by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?”
“That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer,” Miss Lucas replied, looking in his direction.
He quickly turned away, in order that his interest should not be discovered, but not so far that he could not hear Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s reply.
“But if he does it any more, I shall certainly let him know that I see what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him.”
Darcy approached them more closely soon afterwards, though without any intention of speaking. However, Miss Elizabeth Bennet turned to him and said, “Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?”
Darcy found her liveliness very appealing and as quickly replied.
“With great energy; but it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic.”
“You are severe on us.”
Miss Lucas took pity on him.
“It will be her turn soon to be teased. 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,” and she looked at Darcy directly as she spoke, “I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers.”
Unlike his usual response to flattery, Darcy found himself pleased that she had at least acknowledged him. He was not unwilling to hear her play, and on Miss Lucas’s persevering, was pleased to hear Miss Bennet say, “Very well; if it must be so, it must.”
She glanced at Darcy as she added, “There is a fine old saying, which every body here is of course familiar with ‘Keep your breath to cool your porridge,’ and I shall keep mine to swell my song.”
Her performance was pleasing to Darcy’s ear and he found that he had no wish for the recital to end.
But, after a few songs, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her younger sister, Mary, who had neither genius nor taste, and had a pedantic air and conceited manner. Darcy decided, after hearing a few bars of the tune, that he had listened to Miss Elizabeth Bennet with much more pleasure, though she might not have played half so well.
At last Miss Mary Bennet was persuaded to play Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters who, with some of the Lucases and two or three officers joined eagerly in dancing at one end of the room. Since, as usual, Darcy disdained to dance, he stood observing, in silent indignation at such a mode of passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation.
He was thus occupied, so as to be unaware that his host had approached him, till Sir William began.
“What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies.”
“Certainly, Sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.”
Although Darcy had intended this comment to silence him, Sir William only smiled.
“Your friend performs delightfully,” he continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group, “and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy.”
“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?”
“Never, Sir,” said Darcy, again hoping that Sir William would desist.
“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.”
“You have a house in town, I conclude?”
Darcy bowed. He hoped by saying nothing to end the conversation, but Sir William was not so easily disconcerted.
“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.”
He paused, but Darcy was not disposed to make any answer.
At that moment, on Miss Elizabeth Bennet moving towards them, his host called out to her,
“My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you 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.”
Taking Miss Bennet’s hand, Sir William would have given it to him, and he was not unwilling to receive it.
She however drew back and said, “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.”
At this, Darcy found himself to be genuine in requesting to be allowed the honour of her hand for the next dance. To his surprise, for he was certainly not accustomed to such an answer, she persisted in her refusal.
Sir William made a further attempt at persuasion.
“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 Miss Elizabeth Bennet, smiling slightly, so that he thought that this time she might agree.
“He is indeed but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance; for who would object to such a partner?”
Miss Bennet looked as though to speak, but then turned away.
To Darcy, her response was a refreshing contrast to his usual experience, and did not damage his opinion of her. His eyes followed as she crossed the room to talk to the eldest Miss Lucas, and he was thinking of her with pleasure when he was accosted by Miss Bingley.
“I can guess the subject of your reverie.”
“I should imagine not.”
“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!”
Darcy, very used to her manner of speaking, did not consider that this merited a reply.
“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 was at first inclined to maintain his silence, but then decided that what she had ventured deserved contradiction.
“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. 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.”
Hoping that he was alluding to herself, Miss Bingley desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections.
He replied without any hesitation, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley, by turns angry and mortified. “I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite? and pray, when am I to wish you joy?”
“That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask,” Darcy replied calmly. “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.”
“Nay, if you are so serious about it, I shall consider the matter as absolutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed, and of course she will be always at Pemberley with you.”
He listened to her without comment, whilst reflecting that his sister’s opinion of Miss Bingley was perhaps very fair.
Despite his silence, she chose to entertain herself by continuing in this vein for some time, but Darcy took no notice, being as usual unconcerned with any opinion contrary to his own.