suspected by Jane, to whom she had never yet had courage to shew Mrs. Gardiner's letter, or to
relate her own change of sentiment towards him. To Jane, he could be only a man whose
proposals she had refused, and whose merit she had undervalued; but to her own more extensive
information, he was the person to whom the whole family were indebted for the first of benefits,
and whom she regarded herself with an interest, if not quite so tender, at least as reasonable and
just as what Jane felt for Bingley. Her astonishment at his coming—at his coming to Netherfield,
to Longbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again, was almost equal to what she had known on
first witnessing his altered behaviour in Derbyshire.
The colour which had been driven from her face, returned for half a minute with an additional
glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to her eyes, as she thought for that space of time that
his affection and wishes must still be unshaken. But she would not be secure.
"Let me first see how he behaves," said she; "it will then be early enough for expectation."
She sat intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring to lift up her eyes, till
anxious curiosity carried them to the face of her sister as the servant was approaching the door.
Jane looked a little paler than usual, but more sedate than Elizabeth had expected. On the
gentlemen's appearing, her colour increased; yet she received them with tolerable ease, and with
a propriety of behaviour equally free from any symptom of resentment or any unnecessary
complaisance.
Elizabeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down again to her work, with an
eagerness which it did not often command. She had ventured only one glance at Darcy. He
looked serious, as usual; and, she thought, more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire,
than as she had seen him at Pemberley. But, perhaps he could not in her mother's presence be
what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was a painful, but not an improbable, conjecture.
Bingley, she had likewise seen for an instant, and in that short period saw him looking both
pleased and embarrassed. He was received by Mrs. Bennet with a degree of civility which made
her two daughters ashamed, especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness
of her curtsey and address to his friend.
Elizabeth, particularly, who knew that her mother owed to the latter the preservation of her
favourite daughter from irremediable infamy, was hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by
a distinction so ill applied.
237
Darcy, after inquiring of her how Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner did, a question which she could not
answer without confusion, said scarcely any thing. He was not seated by her; perhaps that was
the reason of his silence; but it had not been so in Derbyshire. There he had talked to her friends,
when he could not to herself. But now several minutes elapsed without bringing the sound of his
voice; and when occasionally, unable to resist the impulse of curiosity, she raised he eyes to his
face, she as often found him looking at Jane as at herself, and frequently on no object but the
ground. More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please, than when they last met, were plainly
expressed. She was disappointed, and angry with herself for being so.
"Could I expect it to be otherwise!" said she. "Yet why did he come?"
She was in no humour for conversation with anyone but himself; and to him she had hardly
courage to speak.
She inquired after his sister, but could do no more.
"It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away," said Mrs. Bennet.
He readily agreed to it.
"I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People DID say you meant to quit the
place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope it is not true. A great many changes have
happened in the neighbourhood, since you went away. Miss Lucas is married and settled. And
one of my own daughters. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have seen it in the
papers. It was in The Times and The Courier, I know; though it was not put in as it ought to be. It
was only said, 'Lately, George Wickham, Esq. to Miss Lydia Bennet,' without there being a
syllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or any thing. It was my brother
Gardiner's drawing up too, and I wonder how he came to make such an awkward business of it.
Did you see it?"
Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Elizabeth dared not lift up her eyes.
How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could not tell.
"It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married," continued her mother, "but
at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very hard to have her taken such a way from me. They are
gone down to Newcastle, a place quite northward, it seems, and there they are to stay I do not
know how long. His regiment is there; for I suppose you have heard of his leaving the ——shire,
238
and of his being gone into the regulars. Thank Heaven! he has SOME friends, though perhaps
not so many as he deserves."
Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such misery of shame, that she
could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her, however, the exertion of speaking, which nothing
else had so effectually done before; and she asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay in
the country at present. A few weeks, he believed.
"When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley," said her mother, "I beg you will come
here, and shoot as many as you please on Mr. Bennet's manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy
to oblige you, and will save all the best of the covies for you."
Elizabeth's misery increased, at such unnecessary, such officious attention! Were the same fair
prospect to arise at present as had flattered them a year ago, every thing, she was persuaded,
would be hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant, she felt that years of
happiness could not make Jane or herself amends for moments of such painful confusion.
"The first wish of my heart," said she to herself, "is never more to be in company with either of
them. Their society can afford no pleasure that will atone for such wretchedness as this! Let me
never see either one or the other again!"
Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no compensation, received soon
afterwards material relief, from observing how much the beauty of her sister re-kindled the
admiration of her former lover. When first he came in, he had spoken to her but little; but every
five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention. He found her as handsome as she had
been last year; as good natured, and as unaffected, though not quite so chatty. Jane was anxious
that no difference should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuaded that she talked as
much as ever. But her mind was so busily engaged, that she did not always know when she was
silent.
When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of her intended civility, and they