Volume I, Chapter XVIII

CHAPTER XVIII

Till Edward entered the drawing-room at Netherfield and looked in vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a doubt of his being present had never occurred to him. The certainty of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that might not unreasonably have alarmed him. He had dressed with more than usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than might be won in the course of the evening. But in an instant arose the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy's pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation to the officers; and though this was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was pronounced by his friend Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the day before, and was not yet 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 part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by Edward, and as it assured him that Darcy was not less answerable for Wickham's absence than if his first surmise had been just, every feeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate disappointment, that he could hardly reply with tolerable civility to the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make.—Attention, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham. Edward was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away with a degree of ill-humour, which he could not wholly surmount even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked him.

But Edward was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect of his own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on his spirits; and having told all his griefs to Charles Lucas, whom he had not seen for a week, he was soon able to make a voluntary transition to the oddities of his cousin, and to point her out to his particular notice. The first two dances, however, brought a return of distress; they were dances of mortification. Miss Collins, awkward and solemn, apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave him all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of his release from her was exstacy.

He danced next with Maria Lucas, and had the refreshment of talking of Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those dances were over, he returned to Charles Lucas, and was in conversation with him, when he noticed that he was the object of Mr. Darcy's attention from across the room. Without knowing what he did, he bowed to the gentleman—who, by every appearance, took it as an invitation to approach them. Edward was mortified at his want of presence of mind; Charles, with a smile, tried to console him.

'I dare say you will find him a very agreeable partner.'

'Heaven forbid!—That would be the greatest misfortune of all!—To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate!—Do not wish me such an evil.'

As Darcy approached, Charles could not help cautioning Edward in a whisper not to be a simpleton and allow his fancy for Wickham to make him appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man ten times his consequence. Edward made no answer, amazed at the dignity to which he was arrived in being sought out by Mr. Darcy, and reading in his neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding it. Charles bowed to Darcy and left his friend in the gentleman's company. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and he began to imagine that their silence was to last through all of the dances they observed, and at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment to his partner to oblige him to talk, he made some slight observation on the dance. Darcy replied, and was again silent. After a pause of some moments Edward 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.'

Darcy smiled, and assured him that whatever he wished him to say should be said.

'Very well.—That reply will do for the present.—One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together with a partner you have deliberately sought out for conversation; and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the 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 Edward 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 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 the last couple had gone down the dance, when he asked Edward if he and his sisters did not very often walk to Meryton. He 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, but he said not a word, and Edward, though blaming himself for his 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 equally capable of retaining them, is less certain.'

'He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship,' replied Edward 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 stopt with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on his dancing.

'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. I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Edward, (glancing at his sister and Bingley,) shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy:—but let me not interrupt you, Sir.—You will not thank me for detaining you from the converse of that fine young man, whose 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 forcibly, and his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner, and said,

'Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of.'

'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 subject.—We may compare our different opinions.'

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

'The present always occupies you in such scenes—does it?' said he, with a look of doubt.

'Yes, always,' he replied, without knowing what he said, for his thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared by his suddenly exclaiming, 'I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created.'

'I am,' said he, with a firm voice.

'And never allow yourself to be blinded 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 he, endeavouring to shake off his gravity. 'I am trying to make it out.'

'And what is your success?'

He shook his head. 'I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.'

'I can readily believe,' answered he gravely, 'that reports may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Mr. 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. He said no more, and they parted in silence; on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards Edward, which soon procured his pardon, and directed all his anger against another.

They had not long separated, when Miss Bingley came towards Edward, and with an expression of civil disdain thus accosted him,

'So, Mr. Bennet, 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 that the young man forgot to tell you, among his other communication, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for 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 has treated Mr. Darcy, in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in 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 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 Edward angrily; 'for I have heard you accuse 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. 'Excuse my interference.—It was kindly meant.'

'Insolent girl!' said Edward to himself.—'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.' He then sought his eldest sister, who had undertaken to make inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met him with a smile of such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening.—Edward instantly read her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and every thing else, gave way before the hope of Jane's being in the fairest way for happiness.

'I want to know,' said he, with a countenance no less smiling than his sister's, 'what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which case you may be sure of my pardon.'

'No,' replied Jane, 'I have not forgotten him, but I have nothing satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. 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 has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's regard.'

'Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?'

'No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton.'

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

'He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard them 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 Edward warmly; 'but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr. Bingley's defence of his friend was a very able one I dare say, but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture to still think of both gentlemen as I did before.'

He then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on which there could be no difference of sentiment. Edward listened with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Mr. Bingley's regard, and said all in his power to heighten her confidence in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Edward withdrew to Charles Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of his last partner he had scarcely replied, before Miss Collins came up to them and told him with great exultation that she had just been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery.

'I have found out,' said she, 'by a singular accident, that there is now in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours of the house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have thought of my meeting with—perhaps—a nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in this assembly!—I am most thankful that the discovery is made in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total ignorance of the connection must plead my apology.'

'You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy?'

'Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. I believe him to be Lady Catherine's nephew. It will be in my power to assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se'nnight.'

Edward tried hard to dissuade her from such a scheme; assuring her that Mr. Darcy would consider her addressing him without introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either side, and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in consequence, to begin the acquaintance.—Miss Collins listened to him with the determined air of following her own inclination, and when he ceased speaking, replied thus,

'My dear Edward, I have the highest opinion in the world in your excellent judgment in all matters within the scope of your understanding; but permit me to say that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the circle in which I now move; for give me leave to observe that I consider my brother's clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom—provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant guide, though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young man like yourself.' And with a bow she left him to attack Mr. Darcy, whose reception of her advances he eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. His cousin prefaced her speech with a solemn bow, and though he could not hear a word of it, he felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of her lips the words 'apology,' 'Hunsford,' and 'Lady Catherine de Bourgh.'—It vexed him to see her expose herself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing her with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Miss Collins allowed him time to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Miss Collins, however, was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy's contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of her second speech, and at the end of it he only made her a slight bow, and moved another way. Miss Collins then returned to Edward.

'I have no reason, I assure you,' said she, 'to be dissatisfied with my reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying, that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment as to be certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him.'

As Edward had no longer any interest of his own to pursue, he turned his attention almost entirely on his sister and Mr. Bingley, and the train of agreeable reflections which his observations gave birth to, made him perhaps almost as happy as Jane. He saw her in idea settled in that very house in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection could bestow; and he felt capable under such circumstances, of endeavouring even to like Bingley's two sisters. His mother's thoughts he plainly saw were bent the same way, and he determined not to venture near her, lest he might hear too much. When they sat down to supper, therefore, he considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed them within one of each other; and deeply was he vexed to find that his mother was talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely, openly, and of nothing else but her expectation that Jane would soon be married to Mr. Bingley.—It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation; and then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on such occasions it is the etiquette; but no one was less likely than Mrs. Bennet to find comfort in staying at home at any period of her life. She concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no chance of it.

In vain did Edward endeavour to check the rapidity of his mother's words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper; for to his inexpressible vexation, he could perceive that the chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. His mother only scolded him for being nonsensical.

'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 so doing.'

Nothing that he could say, however, had any influence. His mother would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Edward blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation. He could not help frequently glancing his eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced him of what he dreaded; for though he was not always looking at his mother, he was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity.

At length however Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken. Edward now began to revive. But not long was the interval of tranquillity; for, when supper was over, singing was talked of, and he had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent entreaties, did he endeavour to prevent such a proof of complaisance,—but in vain; Mary would not understand them; such an opportunity of exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song. Edward's eyes were fixed on her with most painful sensations, and he watched her progress through the several stanzas with an impatience which was very ill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiving, amongst the thanks of the table, the hint of a hope that she might be prevailed on to favour them again, after the pause of half a minute began another. Mary's powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice was weak, and her manner affected.—Edward was in agonies. He looked at Jane, to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly talking to Bingley. He looked at Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and saw them making signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued however impenetrably grave. He looked at his father to entreat his interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint, and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud,

'That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit.'

Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and Edward sorry for her, and sorry for his father's speech, was afraid his anxiety had done no good.—Others of the party were now applied to.

'If I,' said Miss Collins, 'were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion; and my brother considers it perfectly compatible with our position in society.—I do not mean however to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. As the rector of a parish, my brother has much to do.—In the first place, he must make such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance that he should have attentive and conciliatory manner towards every body, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well of any body who should omit an occasion of testifying their respect towards persons connected with the family.' And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, she concluded her speech, which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room.—Many stared.—Many smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while his wife seriously commended Miss Collins for having spoken so sensibly, and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that she was a remarkably clever, good kind of young woman.

To Edward it appeared, that had his family made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit, or finer success; and happy did he think it for Bingley and Jane that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he must have witnessed. That the gentleman's two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should have such an opportunity of ridiculing his relations was bad enough, and he could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable.

The rest of the evening brought him little amusement. He was teased by Miss Collins, who continued most perseveringly by his side, though he would not be prevailed upon to dance with her again. She assured him, that as to dancing, she was perfectly indifferent to it; that her chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend herself to him and that she should therefore make a point of remaining close to him the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. He owed his greatest relief to his friend Charles Lucas, who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Miss Collins's conversation to himself.

He was at least free from the offence of Mr. Darcy's further notice; though often standing within a very short distance of him, quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. He felt it to be the probable consequence of his allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in it.

The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart; and by a manœuvre of Mrs. Bennet had to wait for their carriage a quarter of an hour after every body else was gone, which gave them time to see how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her sister scarcely opened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue, and were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing, threw a languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the long speeches of Miss Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the rest, and talked only to each other. Edward preserved as steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of 'Lord, how tired I am!' accompanied by a violent yawn.

When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn; and addressed herself especially to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he would make them, by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.

Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house under the delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of settlements, new carriages and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly see her daughter settled at Netherfield, in the course of three or four months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, and Edward to Miss Collins, she thought with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure. Edward was less dear to her than her own daughters; and though the woman and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.