Mr. Hurst also made her a slight bow, and Bingley sat down by her.
Darcy, preferring the chance of conversation with Miss Elizabeth Bennet to playing with cards, had declined to join Mr. Hurst in his favourite pastime. Mr. Hurst had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of the sofas and go to sleep.
Darcy took up a book, and so Miss Bingley did the same. Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and rings, joined now and then in her brother’s conversation with Miss Bennet.
Miss Bingley gave as much attention to watching Mr. Darcy’s progress through his book as to reading her own; and she was perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. He, however, had no intention of being persuaded into any conversation with her, and so limited himself to answering her questions, and then read on.
At length, she gave a great yawn and said, “How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.”
Darcy reflected to himself that she would not be an easy companion to any man, and no one made any reply.
She then yawned again, threw aside her book, and cast her eyes round the room in quest of some amusement. When her brother mentioned a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly towards him and said, “By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party.”
Looking at his friend, she said, “I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure.”
“If you mean Darcy,” cried her brother, “he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins, but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough I shall send round my cards.”
“I should like balls infinitely better,” she replied, “if they carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the day.”
If she had hoped to persuade Darcy to join in the conversation, she was not successful. Instead, her brother persisted.
“Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a ball.”
Miss Bingley made no answer; and soon afterwards got up and walked about the room. Darcy continued his attention to his book.
After a while, she remarked, “Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.”
Darcy, looking up immediately, was awake to the novelty of attention for Miss Elizabeth Bennet from Caroline Bingley, and closed his book. He was directly invited to join their party, but declined, observing that he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which his joining them would interfere.
“What could he mean?” said Caroline Bingley, and she asked Miss Elizabeth Bennet whether she could at all understand him.
“Not at all,” was her answer; “but depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him, will be to ask nothing about it.”
She looked at Darcy as she spoke, and he thought that there was more than a hint of humour in her eyes.
Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in anything, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his two motives.
Had Caroline Bingley been alone, Darcy might not have pursued the matter. Since, however, Miss Bennet was involved in the matter, Darcy was only too happy to promote the conversation.
“I have not the smallest objection to explaining them. You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other’s confidence and have secret affairs to discuss.”
Darcy paused, for this seemed to be less than likely, so he continued, “Or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking. If the first, I should be completely in your way; and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.”
“Oh! shocking!” cried Miss Bingley. “I never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?”
Darcy waited with expectation for the reply to this, and was intrigued by the answer.
“Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination,” said Miss Elizabeth. “We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him, laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.”
“But upon my honour I do not,” said Caroline Bingley. “I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind! No, no, I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself.”
“Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!” cried Miss Elizabeth. “That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintance. I dearly love a laugh.”
Darcy was not very sure how to take this.
“Miss Bingley,” said he, “has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.”
“Certainly,” replied Miss Bennet, “there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.”
Darcy regarded her with more appearance of calm than he felt.
“Perhaps that is not possible for any one. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”
She regarded him for a moment and then said, “Such as vanity and pride?”
“Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.”
Miss Bennet turned away, as if to hide a smile.
“Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume,” said Miss Bingley; “and pray what is the result?”
“I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “He owns it himself without disguise.”
“No,” said Darcy, rather vexed, “I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding.”
He stopped then, intending to say no more, but his irritation was too much for that to be enough.
“My temper I dare not vouch for. It is I believe too little yielding, certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them.”
Then, thinking of his inability to possess Bingley’s ease of address in company, and striving to be honest with her without regard to the disbenefit to himself, he added, “My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost for ever.”
“That is a failing indeed!” said Miss Bennet. “Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me.”
Darcy, realising his error, then sought to excuse himself.
“There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”
If he had known her better, he might have expected that she would not let that rest.
“And your defect is a propensity to hate every body.”
“And yours,” he replied with a slow smile, “is wilfully to misunderstand them.”
“Do let us have a little music,” cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share, and clearly dissatisfied at being so long overlooked.
