“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.
6
On the following day, since Bingley and Darcy were to dine with the officers of the regiment, Caroline Bingley sent a note by a servant to Longbourn, to invite Miss Jane Bennet to join the two sisters for dinner that evening.
When the gentlemen returned, it was raining, and they were greeted with the news that Miss Bennet had indeed travelled to Netherfield, but on horseback. The consequence of her not travelling in her father’s carriage meant that she was to remain overnight. The next morning it soon became clear that her damp journey had resulted in Miss Bennet catching a chill, with a sore throat.
Bingley and his sisters would not hear of her returning home until she was better, so a note was sent to tell Miss Elizabeth Bennet that Mr. Jones the apothecary had been called, although there was no cause for alarm. When Darcy looked out of the window a few hours later, it was with some considerable surprise that he saw that same lady trudging across the lawns in front of Netherfield House.
When she was shown into the breakfast parlour, where Bingley and the others were all seated, it was clear from the state of her skirts that she must have walked all the 3 miles from Longbourn. When this was questioned by Miss Bingley, Miss Elizabeth Bennet explained that she was no horsewoman and enjoyed walking. She asked anxiously to be taken immediately to see her sister.
As she left the room, Darcy could not help but note that her face was glowing with the warmth of the exercise, although he doubted whether she should have come so far alone. Two of those present had less charitable matters on their mind. That she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in such dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and they commented upon it at length. Darcy did not support their criticisms, and Mr. Hurst said nothing at all, since he was thinking only of his breakfast.
It soon became clear that Miss Bennet had not slept well, being very feverish and not well enough to leave her room. When breakfast was over, the apothecary came and, having examined his patient, said that she had caught a violent cold, and advised her to return to bed, promising to provide some draughts. The advice was followed readily, since her feverish symptoms had apparently increased, together with a headache.
That morning, Darcy and Bingley went out to shoot with Mr. Hurst and, when they returned, found that Miss Bingley had offered Miss Elizabeth Bennet the carriage for her return journey. However, her elder sister had been so concerned at her leaving that the offer had to be converted into an invitation for her to remain at Netherfield for the present.
Darcy was not unhappy that this offer was accepted, and in due course to see Miss Elizabeth Bennet summoned to dinner. To the enquiries that were made, she could not respond with a very favourable answer and, after dinner, she returned directly to her sister’s room.
Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was gone. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no taste, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added,
“She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild.”
“She did indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair so untidy, so blowsy!”
“Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it, not doing its office.”
“Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,” said Bingley; who had been listening to this conversation with little enthusiasm, “but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.”
“You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley, “and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition.”
“Certainly not.”
“To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite
