all that was needed to bestow true happiness. It is a happiness I have never felt when listening to a woman sing
or play the piano, and I doubt if I ever will.
‘Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the
possibility of all this?’ asked Caroline.
‘I never saw such a woman,’ Miss Bennet replied. ‘I
never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and
elegance, as you describe, united.’
I began to wonder if I had ever seen it myself.
Caroline and Louisa rose to the challenge, declaring
they knew many women who answered this description.
Miss Bennet bent her head, but not in acknowledgement
of defeat. She did it so that they would not see the smile
that was widening about her mouth.
It was only when I saw her smile that I realized they
were contradicting their own earlier professions, when they
had said that few such women existed.They were now saying that such women were commonplace. As I watched
Miss Bennet’s smile spread to her eyes, I thought I had
never liked her better, nor enjoyed a discussion more.
Mr Hurst called his wife and her sister to order, drawing their attention back to the game, and Miss Bennet
returned to her sister’s sick room.
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I realized that there is a strong bond of affection
between her and her sister. I could not help thinking that
Caroline and Louisa would not have been so eager to
wait upon each other, if one of them had been ill; though
they, too, are sisters, there seems to be very little affection
between them. It is a pity. The affection of my sister is
one of the greatest joys of my life.
‘Eliza Bennet,’ said Caroline, when Miss Bennet had
left the room, ‘is one of those young ladies who seek to
recommend themselves to the other sex, by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds.
But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.’
‘Undoubtedly, there is a meanness in all the arts which
ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation.
Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable.’
She retired from the lists, and retreated into her game.
I returned to my room at last, feeling dissatisfied with
the day. My usual peace of mind had deserted me. I
found myself thinking, not of what I was going to do
tomorrow, but of Elizabeth Bennet.
Thursday 14th November
I have had a timely reminder of the folly of being carried
away by a pair of fine eyes. Elizabeth sent a note to her
mother this morning, requesting her to come and make
her own judgement on Miss Bennet’s state of health.
After sitting a little while with her sick daughter, Mrs
Bennet and her two younger daughters, who had accompanied her, accepted an invitation to join the rest of the
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party in the breakfast parlour.
‘I hope Miss Bennet is not worse than you expected,’
said Bingley.
He has been upset by the whole business, and nothing would comfort him but a constant string of instructions to the housekeeper, with the intention of increasing
Miss Bennet’s comfort.
‘Indeed I have, sir,’ said Mrs Bennet.‘She is a great deal
too ill to be moved. Mr Jones says we must not think of
moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your
kindness.’
‘Removed!’ cried Bingley.‘It must not be thought of.’
Caroline did not seem pleased with his remark. I think
the presence of an invalid in the house is beginning to
irk her. She has spent very little time with her guest, and
if Elizabeth had not come, her sister would have spent a
very lonely time in a house of strangers.
Caroline replied civilly enough, however, saying that
Miss Bennet would receive every attention.
Mrs Bennet impressed upon us all how ill her daughter was, and then, looking about her, remarked that Bingley had chosen well in renting Netherfield.
‘You will not think of quitting it in a hurry, I hope,
though you have but a short lease,’ she said.
‘Whatever I do is done in a hurry,’ he said.
This led to a discussion of character, whereupon Elizabeth confessed herself to be a student of it.
‘The country can in general supply but few subjects
for such a study,’ I said.
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‘But people themselves alter so much that there is
something new to be observed in them for ever,’ she
returned.
Talking to Elizabeth is like talking to no one else. It is
not a commonplace activity; rather it is a stimulating
exercise for the mind.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Mrs Bennet, startling us all. ‘I assure
you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in the town. I cannot see that London has any great
advantage over the country for my part, except the shops
and public places.The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is
it not, Mr Bingley?’
Bingley, as easy-going as ever, said that he was equally
happy in either.
‘That is because you have the right disposition. But
that gentleman,’ she said, looking at me,‘seemed to think
the country was nothing at all.’
Elizabeth had the goodness to blush, and tell her
mother she was quite mistaken, but I was forcibly
reminded of the fact that no amount of blushes, however
pleasing, can overcome the disadvantage of such a
mother.
Mrs Bennet grew worse and worse, praising Sir
William Lucas’s manners, and making veiled references to
‘persons who find themselves very important and never
open their mouths’ by which, I suppose, she meant me.
Worse was to come. The youngest girl stepped forward and begged Bingley for a ball. He is so goodhumoured that he readily agreed, after which Mrs
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Bennet and her two youngest daughters departed. Elizabeth returned to her sister’s sick room.
Caroline was merciless once she had left.
‘They dine with four-and-twenty families!’ she said.‘I
don’t know how I stopped myself from laughing! And
the poor woman thinks that is a varied society.’
‘I
