Chapter 8

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At five o’clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half-past six
Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries which then
poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the
much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley, she could not make a very
favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing
this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how
shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked
being ill themselves; and then thought no more of the matter: and their
indifference towards Jane, when not immediately before them, restored
Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her original dislike.

Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she could
regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Jane was evident, and his
attentions to herself most pleasing; and they prevented her feeling
herself so much an intruder as she believed she was considered by the
others. She had very little notice from any but him. Miss Bingley was
engrossed by Mr. Darcy, her sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr.
Hurst, by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only to
eat, drink, and play at cards, who, when he found her prefer a plain
dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.

When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley
began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. 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 blowzy!”

“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; “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 ancles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! what could she mean by
it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence,
a most country-town indifference to decorum.”

“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said
Bingley.

“I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley, in a half whisper,
“that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine
eyes.”

“Not at all,” he replied: “they were brightened by the exercise.” A
short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again,--

“I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet,--she is really a very sweet
girl,--and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such
a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no
chance of it.”

“I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in
Meryton?”

“Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside.”

“That is capital,” added her sister; and they both laughed heartily.

“If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside,” cried Bingley, “it
would not make them one jot less agreeable.”

“But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any
consideration in the world,” replied Darcy.

To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their
hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of
their dear friend’s vulgar relations.

With a renewal of tenderness, however, they repaired to her room on
leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till summoned to coffee.
She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not quit her at all, till
late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her asleep, and
when it appeared to her rather right than pleasant that she should go
down stairs herself. On entering the drawing-room, she found the whole
party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting
them to be playing high, she declined it, and making her sister the
excuse, said she would amuse herself, for the short time she could stay
below, with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment.

“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said he; “that is rather singular.”

“Miss Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, “despises cards. She is a great
reader, and has no pleasure in anything else.”

“I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,” cried Elizabeth; “I
am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”

“In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure,” said Bingley; “and
I hope it will soon be increased by seeing her quite well.”

Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards a table
where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her
others; all that his library afforded.

“And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own
credit; but I am an idle fellow; and though I have not many, I have more
than I ever looked into.”

Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those
in the room.

“I am astonished,” said Miss Bingley, “that my father should have left
so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at
Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!”

“It ought to be good,” he replied: “it has been the work of many
generations.”

“And then you have added so much to it yourself--you are always buying
books.”

“I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as
these.”

“Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of
that noble place. Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may be
half as delightful as Pemberley.”

“I wish it may.”

“But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that
neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a
finer county in England than Derbyshire.”

“With all my heart: I will buy Pemberley itself, if Darcy will sell it.”

“I am talking of possibilities, Charles.”

“Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get
Pemberley by purchase than by imitation.”

Elizabeth was so much caught by what passed, as to leave her very little
attention for her book; and, soon laying it wholly aside, she drew near
the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and his eldest
sister, to observe the game.

“Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?” said Miss Bingley: “will
she be as tall as I am?”

“I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s height, or
rather taller.”

“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me
so much. Such a countenance, such manners, and so extremely accomplished
for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”

“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience
to be so very accomplished as they all are.”

“All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?”

“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and
net purses. I scarcely know any one who cannot do all this; and I am
sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without
being informed that she was very accomplished.”

“Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,” said Darcy, “has
too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no
otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen; but I am very
far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I
cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen in the whole range of my
acquaintance that are really accomplished.”

“Nor I, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley.

“Then,” observed Elizabeth, “you must comprehend a great deal in your
idea of an accomplished woman.”

“Yes; I do comprehend a great deal in it.”

“Oh, certainly,” cried his faithful assistant, “no one can be really
esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met
with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing,
dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and, besides all
this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of
walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word
will be but half deserved.”

“All this she must possess,” added Darcy; “and to all she must yet add
something more substantial in the improvement of her mind by extensive
reading.”

“I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women.
I rather wonder now at your knowing any.”

“Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all
this?”

“I never saw such a woman. I never saw such capacity, and taste, and
application, and elegance, as you describe, united.”

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her
implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who
answered this description, when Mr. Hurst called them to order, with
bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all
conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the
room.

“Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, “is
one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other
sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I daresay, it
succeeds; but, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.”

“Undoubtedly,” replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed,
“there is meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend
to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is
despicable.”

Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to
continue the subject.

Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and
that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones’s being sent for
immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice could
be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of the most
eminent physicians. This she would not hear of; but she was not so
unwilling to comply with their brother’s proposal; and it was settled
that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet
were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sisters
declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness,
however, by duets after supper; while he could find no better relief to
his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that every
possible attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister.

M^{rs} Bennet and her two youngest girls

[Copyright 1894 by George Allen.]]