Volume I, Chapter XVII

CHAPTER XVII

Edward related to Jane the next day, what had passed between Mr. Wickham and himself. Jane listened with astonishment and concern;—she knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be so unworthy of Mr. Bingley's regard; and yet, it was not in her nature to question the veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham.—The possibility of his having endured such unkindness, was enough to interest all her tender feelings; and nothing remained therefore to be done, but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of each, and throw into the account of accident or mistake, whatever could not be otherwise explained.

'They have both,' said she, 'been deceived, I dare say, in some way or other, of which we can form no idea. Interested people have perhaps misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short, impossible for us to conjecture the causes or circumstances which may have alienated them, without actual blame on either side.'

'Very true, indeed;—and now, my dear Jane, what have you got to say in behalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned in the business?—Do clear them too, or we shall be obliged to think ill of somebody.'

'Laugh as much as you chuse, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion. My dearest Edward, do but consider in what a disgraceful light it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating his father's favourite in such a manner,—one, whom his father had promised to provide for.—It is impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had any value for his character, could be capable of it. Can his most intimate friends be so excessively deceived in him? oh! no.'

'I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley's being imposed on, than that Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself as he gave me last night; names, facts, every thing mentioned without ceremony.—If it be not so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was truth in his looks.'

'It is difficult indeed—it is distressing.—One does not know what to think.'

'I beg your pardon;—one knows exactly what to think.'

But Jane could think with certainty on only one point,—that Mr. Bingley, if he had been imposed on, would have much to suffer when the affair became public.

They were summoned from the shrubbery, where this conversation passed, by the arrival of some of the very persons of whom they had been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their personal invitation for the long-expected ball at Netherfield, which was fixed for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted to see their dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since their separation. To the rest of the family they paid little attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible, saying not much to Edward, and nothing at all to the others. They were soon gone again, rising from their seats with an activity which took their brother by surprise, and hurrying off as if eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet's civilities.

The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every member of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the society of her two friends, and the attentions of their brother; and Edward thought with pleasure of conversing a great deal with Mr. Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of every thing in Mr. Darcy's looks and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended less on any single event, or any particular person, for though they each meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham, he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a ball was at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her family that she had no disinclination for it.

'While I can have my mornings to myself,' said she, 'it is enough.—I think it no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements. Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for every body.'

Mr. Bennet, with some surprise, found himself agreeing with his daughter's sentiments.

Edward's spirits were so high on the occasion, that though he did not often speak unnecessarily to Miss Collins, he could not help asking her, teasingly, whether she intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation, and if she did, whether she would think it proper to join in the evening's amusement, considering her brother's position; and he was rather surprised to find that she entertained no scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke from Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to dance.

'I am by no means of opinion, I assure you,' said she, 'that a ball of this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people, can have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting to dancing myself, that I shall hope to be engaged more than once in the course of the evening;—and I hope to be honoured by your solicitations, cousin, for the two first dances especially.'

Edward felt himself completely taken in. If he were to dance at all, he fully proposed soliciting the hand of Maria Lucas, of whom he was very fond, for those very dances:—and to have Miss Collins instead! his liveliness had never been worse timed. There was no help for it, however. His happiness was perforce delayed a little longer, and Miss Collins's proposal accepted with as good a grace as he could. He was not the better pleased with her attentions from the idea it suggested of something more.—It now first struck him, that if she found none from among his sisters as worthy of being mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors, his cousin's eye might turn toward him, and her marriage schemes from involving her brother to herself. The idea soon reached to conviction, as he observed her increasing civilities toward himself, and heard her frequent attempt at a compliment on his wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than gratified himself by this effect of his charms, it was not long before Mrs. Bennet gave him to understand that the probability of their marriage was extremely agreeable to her. Edward however did not chuse to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the consequence of any reply. He would never make Miss Collins the offer, and since he would not, it was useless to quarrel about her with his mother.

If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, the younger Miss Bennets would have been in a pitiable state at this time, for from the day of the invitation, to the day of the ball, there was such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton once. No aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after;—the very shoe-roses for Netherfield were got by proxy. Even Edward might have found some trial of his patience in weather which totally suspended the improvement of his acquaintance with Mr. Wickham; and nothing less than a dance on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday, endurable to Kitty and Lydia.