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Convinced as Elizabeth now was that Miss Bingley's dislike of her had
originated in jealousy, she could not help feeling how unwelcome her
appearance at Pemberley must be to her, and was curious to know with how
much civility on that lady's side the acquaintance would now be renewed.
On reaching the house, they were shown through the hall into the saloon,
whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows
opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high woody
hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts
which were scattered over the intermediate lawn.
In this house they were received by Miss Darcy, who was sitting there with
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in London.
Georgiana's reception of them was very civil, but attended with all the
embarrassment which, though proceeding from shyness and the fear of doing
wrong, would easily give to those who felt themselves inferior the belief
of her being proud and reserved. Mrs. Gardiner and her niece, however, did
her justice, and pitied her.
By Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley they were noticed only by a curtsey; and,
on their being seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must always be,
succeeded for a few moments. It was first broken by Mrs. Annesley, a
genteel, agreeable-looking woman, whose endeavour to introduce some kind
of discourse proved her to be more truly well-bred than either of the
others; and between her and Mrs. Gardiner, with occasional help from
Elizabeth, the conversation was carried on. Miss Darcy looked as if she
wished for courage enough to join in it; and sometimes did venture a short
sentence when there was least danger of its being heard.
Elizabeth soon saw that she was herself closely watched by Miss Bingley,
and that she could not speak a word, especially to Miss Darcy, without
calling her attention. This observation would not have prevented her from
trying to talk to the latter, had they not been seated at an inconvenient
distance; but she was not sorry to be spared the necessity of saying much.
Her own thoughts were employing her. She expected every moment that some
of the gentlemen would enter the room. She wished, she feared that the
master of the house might be amongst them; and whether she wished or
feared it most, she could scarcely determine. After sitting in this manner
a quarter of an hour without hearing Miss Bingley's voice, Elizabeth was
roused by receiving from her a cold inquiry after the health of her
family. She answered with equal indifference and brevity, and the other
said no more.
The next variation which their visit afforded was produced by the entrance
of servants with cold meat, cake, and a variety of all the finest fruits
in season; but this did not take place till after many a significant look
and smile from Mrs. Annesley to Miss Darcy had been given, to remind her
of her post. There was now employment for the whole party—for though
they could not all talk, they could all eat; and the beautiful pyramids of
grapes, nectarines, and peaches soon collected them round the table.
While thus engaged, Elizabeth had a fair opportunity of deciding whether
she most feared or wished for the appearance of Mr. Darcy, by the feelings
which prevailed on his entering the room; and then, though but a moment
before she had believed her wishes to predominate, she began to regret
that he came.
He had been some time with Mr. Gardiner, who, with two or three other
gentlemen from the house, was engaged by the river, and had left him only
on learning that the ladies of the family intended a visit to Georgiana
that morning. No sooner did he appear than Elizabeth wisely resolved to be
perfectly easy and unembarrassed; a resolution the more necessary to be
made, but perhaps not the more easily kept, because she saw that the
suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them, and that there
was scarcely an eye which did not watch his behaviour when he first came
into the room. In no countenance was attentive curiosity so strongly
marked as in Miss Bingley's, in spite of the smiles which overspread her
face whenever she spoke to one of its objects; for jealousy had not yet
made her desperate, and her attentions to Mr. Darcy were by no means over.
Miss Darcy, on her brother's entrance, exerted herself much more to talk,
and Elizabeth saw that he was anxious for his sister and herself to get
acquainted, and forwarded as much as possible, every attempt at
conversation on either side. Miss Bingley saw all this likewise; and, in
the imprudence of anger, took the first opportunity of saying, with
"Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the ——shire Militia removed from
Meryton? They must be a great loss to <i>your</i> family."
In Darcy's presence she dared not mention Wickham's name; but Elizabeth
instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts; and the
various recollections connected with him gave her a moment's distress; but
exerting herself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, she presently
answered the question in a tolerably detached tone. While she spoke, an
involuntary glance showed her Darcy, with a heightened complexion,
earnestly looking at her, and his sister overcome with confusion, and
unable to lift up her eyes. Had Miss Bingley known what pain she was then
giving her beloved friend, she undoubtedly would have refrained from the
hint; but she had merely intended to discompose Elizabeth by bringing
forward the idea of a man to whom she believed her partial, to make her
betray a sensibility which might injure her in Darcy's opinion, and,
perhaps, to remind the latter of all the follies and absurdities by which
some part of her family were connected with that corps. Not a syllable had
ever reached her of Miss Darcy's meditated elopement. To no creature had
it been revealed, where secrecy was possible, except to Elizabeth; and
from all Bingley's connections her brother was particularly anxious to
conceal it, from the very wish which Elizabeth had long ago attributed to
him, of their becoming hereafter her own. He had certainly formed such a
plan, and without meaning that it should affect his endeavour to separate
him from Miss Bennet, it is probable that it might add something to his
lively concern for the welfare of his friend.
Elizabeth's collected behaviour, however, soon quieted his emotion; and as
Miss Bingley, vexed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to
Wickham, Georgiana also recovered in time, though not enough to be able to
speak any more. Her brother, whose eye she feared to meet, scarcely
recollected her interest in the affair, and the very circumstance which
had been designed to turn his thoughts from Elizabeth seemed to have fixed
them on her more and more cheerfully.
Their visit did not continue long after the question and answer above
mentioned; and while Mr. Darcy was attending them to their carriage Miss
Bingley was venting her feelings in criticisms on Elizabeth's person,
behaviour, and dress. But Georgiana would not join her. Her brother's
recommendation was enough to ensure her favour; his judgement could not
err. And he had spoken in such terms of Elizabeth as to leave Georgiana
without the power of finding her otherwise than lovely and amiable. When
Darcy returned to the saloon, Miss Bingley could not help repeating to him
some part of what she had been saying to his sister.
"How very ill Miss Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy," she cried;
"I never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is since the winter.
She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing that we
should not have known her again."
However little Mr. Darcy might have liked such an address, he contented
himself with coolly replying that he perceived no other alteration than
her being rather tanned, no miraculous consequence of travelling in the
"For my own part," she rejoined, "I must confess that I never could see
any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy;
and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants character—there
is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of
the common way; and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so
fine, I could never see anything extraordinary in them. They have a sharp,
shrewish look, which I do not like at all; and in her air altogether there
is a self-sufficiency without fashion, which is intolerable."
Persuaded as Miss Bingley was that Darcy admired Elizabeth, this was not
the best method of recommending herself; but angry people are not always
wise; and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all the
success she expected. He was resolutely silent, however, and, from a
determination of making him speak, she continued:
"I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all
were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect
your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, '<i>She</i>
a beauty!—I should as soon call her mother a wit.' But afterwards
she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty
at one time."
"Yes," replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, "but <i>that</i>
was only when I first saw her, for it is many months since I have
considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance."
He then went away, and Miss Bingley was left to all the satisfaction of
having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself.
Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth talked of all that had occurred during their
visit, as they returned, except what had particularly interested them
both. The look and behaviour of everybody they had seen were discussed,
except of the person who had mostly engaged their attention. They talked
of his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit—of everything but
himself; yet Elizabeth was longing to know what Mrs. Gardiner thought of
him, and Mrs. Gardiner would have been highly gratified by her niece's
beginning the subject.