he said.
He embarked on a rambling speech, extolling the
virtues of his daughter’s position. How long he would
have gone on if Mr Long had not called I do not know!
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When our guests had left, Bingley said:‘It was after Sir
William called last year that Mr Bennet called on us. Do
you suppose he will do so again?’
I thought of Mr Bennet’s indolent habits and hesitated.
‘Perhaps I could call on the Bennets even without this
civility,’ suggested Bingley.
‘Wait and see whether he calls tomorrow,’ was my
advice.
Saturday 20th September
Mr Bennet did not call again yesterday, and this morning, Bingley made up his mind to visit Longbourn.
‘Come with me, Darcy,’ he said.
Telling myself I would go with him so that I could see
whether Miss Bennet had any regard for him, I agreed,
but my real reason was to see Elizabeth. I was as eager to
see her as Bingley was to see her sister, and I was just as
apprehensive about it.
We set out. Bingley was silent, and I too was lost in
my thoughts, wondering how I should be received. If
Elizabeth resented me for being the cause of Lydia’s
ruin I could hardly blame her, more particularly
because she did not know that I had helped to set
matters to rights.
I had been particularly concerned that she should not
know. I did not want her gratitude. If she had developed
any tender feelings for me I wanted to know they sprang
from love, and nothing else.
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We arrived. The servant showed us in. I immediately
saw Elizabeth drop her gaze, embarrassed, and busy herself with her needlework. What did it mean? I wished I
knew. Did it mean she was alive to the awkwardness of
the situation, or did it mean that she could not bear to
look at me?
‘Why, Mr Bingley!’ cried Mrs Bennet, jumping up
with a smile. ‘How delightful to see you at Longbourn
again. We have missed you.You quit us in such a hurry
last year you did not have time to say goodbye! I hope
you will not be thinking of leaving us again so quickly?’
‘No, I hope not,’ said Bingley, looking at Miss Bennet.
I observed her smile, and drop her gaze. She, at least, I
could understand, and it was clear that Bingley’s hopes
would not be disappointed.
‘And Mr Darcy,’ said Mrs Bennet in an ill-humoured
voice, turning to me.
I took no notice of her humour, and I found it difficult to believe that only a few months ago I had thought
it a reason for not proposing to Elizabeth. What did it
matter if her mother was silly and vulgar? I did not want
to marry Mrs Bennet.
I could not take a seat next to Elizabeth, her younger
sisters being by, but I asked her how her aunt and uncle
did. She replied sensibly, but then turned her attention
back to her work.
Outwardly I was calm. Inwardly, I was otherwise, but I
could do nothing. I was not close enough to Elizabeth to
continue the conversation without it seeming particular,
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and what could I say to her, under her mother’s eye, that
I wanted to say?
To distract my thoughts, I looked at Miss Bennet and
wondered how I could not have seen her partiality for
Bingley last year. Her feelings for him were there in every
gesture, and every look and every smile. Had I blinded
myself, wanting Bingley to marry Georgiana? I wondered. I had not thought so at the time, but I realized
now that I had.
I glanced again at Elizabeth, wishing I could read her
mind.
After a time, she said: ‘Miss Darcy is well, I hope?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ I said, glad to hear the sound of her
voice.
There was chance for nothing more. Her mother
began talking of Lydia’s wedding. Elizabeth would not
look up. Did she know that I had been involved? But no,
I am sure she did not. I had sworn the Gardiners to
secrecy, and I knew they would not betray me. Her confusion came from the subject, knowing what she does
about my relations with Wickham.
‘It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter
well married,’ said Mrs Bennet, a speech that would have
revolted me a few months before, but which now left no
impression. I care nothing for Mrs Bennet. Let her be the
silliest woman in Christendom if she chooses. It will not
prevent me marrying Elizabeth, if she will have me.
Mrs Bennet continued to talk of Wickham, saying he
had gone into the regulars, and adding: ‘Thank Heaven!
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He has some friends, though perhaps not so many as he
deserves.’
Elizabeth’s face was a fiery red, and her eyes sparkled
with mortification. How I wanted to help her! But how
I thought the colour became her.
She did, at last, raise her head and speak.
‘Do you mean to stay in the country, Mr Bingley?’ she
asked.
I wished I was Bingley at that moment, so that she had
spoken to me. Why did she favour my friend? Why
would she not look at me? Did she not wish to? I was in
misery.
At last the visit drew to an end. I would have stayed
all day if I could, but it was impossible.
‘You will come to dine with us on Tuesday, I hope, Mr
Bingley?’ said Mrs Bennet as we rose to leave. She turned
cold eyes to me, adding unwelcomingly:‘And Mr Darcy.’
What did I care for her manner? I was to see Elizabeth again.
The next meeting will surely tell me whether she has
any feelings for me, whether she can forgive me the
grievous wrongs I have done her family and whether she
can love me.
I will be in torment until I know.
Sunday 21st September
‘I thought Miss Bennet looked well last night,’ said Bingley to me this morning.
‘She did.’
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