Chapter 18

Elizabeth walked into the Netherfield drawing room. She looked for Mr. Wickham among the red coats, but she did not see him. Until that moment, she had never once thought he might not come. If she had thought about it, she might have felt uneasy. But she was still sure they would meet. Elizabeth had dressed with more care than usual. She was eager to win over the part of his heart that was not already hers. She believed this was no more than an evening could give her. Then a terrible doubt struck her. Had the Bingleys left Wickham off the officers' list on purpose, to please Mr. Darcy? That was not quite true. But it was certain that Wickham had not come. Mr. Denny, the friend Lydia questioned eagerly, told them why. Wickham had gone to London on business the day before, and had not yet returned. Then Denny added, with a smile that meant something more.

"If he had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here, he would not have chosen just this time for business."

Lydia did not hear this last remark. But Elizabeth did not miss it. It made no difference whether her first guess had been right. It meant that Darcy was to blame for Wickham's absence. Her disappointment sharpened her unhappy feelings toward Darcy even more. When he came up soon after and asked politely how she did, she answered just enough to be civil. To show Darcy attention, kindness, or patience felt like doing Wickham harm. She turned away, determined to say nothing more to him. Even when she spoke to Mr. Bingley, her bad mood had not fully left her. It made her angry that he defended Darcy no matter what.

Still, Elizabeth was not a person to stay in a bad mood for long. Everything she had hoped for that evening had gone wrong. But her disappointment did not last long. She poured out all her troubles to Charlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen in a week, and then turned to the funny behavior of her cousin instead. She pointed Mr. Collins out to Charlotte, and told her to watch him closely. But the first two dances brought new suffering. They were a humiliating dance. Awkward and solemn, Mr. Collins paid no attention to the dancing and only kept apologizing. He often made a wrong step without even noticing it. He gave Elizabeth all the shame and misery a person can feel when forced to dance two dances with a partner she dislikes. The moment she escaped him was pure joy.

Next she danced with an officer. Talking about Wickham, and hearing that everyone liked him, comforted her. After the dance she went back to Charlotte Lucas and talked with her. Just then Mr. Darcy suddenly spoke to her. His invitation to dance surprised her so much that she said yes before she knew what she was doing. He soon walked away. Elizabeth was upset with herself for not slipping out of it more cleverly. Charlotte tried to comfort her.

"Maybe once you dance with him, you will find him quite agreeable."

"I hope that never happens! That would be the worst misfortune of all. To find a man I have decided to hate agreeable! I do not wish for such a disaster."

The dancing began again. As Darcy came to claim his promised partner, Charlotte whispered a warning to Elizabeth. She told her not to be a fool. She said Elizabeth must not let her liking for Wickham turn a man of much higher rank against her. Elizabeth did not answer, and took her place in the line. She was struck anew by how great a place she now stood in, facing Mr. Darcy. She read the same surprise on the faces around her. For a while neither of them said a word. Elizabeth thought this silence might last through both dances. At first she was determined not to break it. But then it occurred to her that forcing her partner to talk would be a greater punishment for him. So she made a light remark about the dance. Darcy answered, and fell silent again. A few minutes later Elizabeth spoke again.

"Now it is your turn to say something, Mr. Darcy. I spoke about the dance, so you should say something about the size of the room, or the number of couples."

He smiled. He said he would say whatever she wished to hear.

"Very good. That answer will do for now. In a little while I may say that private balls are much more pleasant than public ones. But for now you may stay quiet."

"Do you always follow set rules like this when you talk while dancing?"

"Sometimes I do. One must say a little. It would look strange to stay completely silent for half an hour together. But for some people, the talk should be arranged so they need to say as little as possible."

"Are you following your own feelings just now? Or do you think you are pleasing me?"

"Both," said Elizabeth playfully. "I have always seen that we think in very much the same way. We are both unwilling to mix with people, and both say little. Neither of us will open our mouth unless we are sure of saying something to amaze the whole room, something that will be handed down like a proverb."

"That does not sound much like a picture of your own character, at least," he said. "I dare not say how close it comes to mine. I am sure you believe it to be an exact likeness."

"I ought not to judge my own skill."

He did not answer. They were silent again until they had moved once through the dance. Then Darcy asked whether she and her sisters often walked to Meryton. Elizabeth said that they did. Then she could not help adding, "When you met us there the other day, we had just made a new acquaintance."

The effect appeared at once. A deeper pride spread over Darcy's face. But he said not a word. Elizabeth blamed herself for her own weakness, but she could not go on. At last Darcy spoke in a hard voice.

"Mr. Wickham was born with such pleasing manners that he makes friends easily. Whether he is equally able to keep them is less certain."

"He has had the misfortune to lose your friendship," said Elizabeth with feeling, "and in a way that may cause him suffering for the rest of his life."

Darcy made no answer. He seemed to want to change the subject. Just then Sir William Lucas appeared beside them, passing through the line on his way to the other side of the room. He saw Mr. Darcy and stopped. He bowed very politely, and praised his dancing and his partner.

"My dear sir, that was truly delightful. Such fine dancing is rarely seen. It is plain that you belong to the very best society. But let me say that your lovely partner is not the least bit behind you." He glanced at Jane and Bingley. "I hope to see such pleasant sights often in the future. Especially after a certain happy event, my dear Miss Eliza. What congratulations there will be then! Mr. Darcy will surely agree. But I must not intrude any longer. You will not thank me for interrupting your charming conversation with this young lady. Her bright eyes are already scolding me."

Darcy barely heard the last part of this speech. But Sir William's hint about his friend seemed to strike him hard. He looked at Bingley and Jane dancing together with a very serious face. Then he collected himself and turned back to his partner.

"Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking about."

"I do not think we were talking about anything at all. Whoever else Sir William interrupted in this room, he could hardly have found two people with less to say to each other than us. We have tried two or three subjects already, and failed with all of them. I cannot imagine what we should talk about next."

"What about books?" he said, smiling.

"Books — oh, no! I am sure we never read the same books. And even if we did, we would feel about them quite differently."

"I am sorry you think so. But if that is true, at least we will never run out of things to say. We can compare our different opinions."

"No. One cannot talk about books at a ball. My head is always full of other things."

"Do you mean that at such gatherings, your mind is always fixed only on the present moment?" he asked, doubtfully.

"Yes, always," she answered, without knowing what she was saying. Her thoughts had already wandered far from the subject. This soon showed itself, for she suddenly burst out, "Mr. Darcy, I remember hearing you say that you hardly ever forgive — that once your resentment is formed, it cannot be softened. You must be very careful, then, about how it is first formed?"

"Yes," he said firmly.

"And you never let yourself be blinded by prejudice?"

"I hope not."

"Those who never change a judgment once made have a special duty to be sure they judged rightly from the start."

"May I ask why you are asking me these questions?"

"Only to make out your character," said Elizabeth, trying to shake off her serious look. "I am trying to understand you."

"And what success have you had?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "None at all. I have heard so many very different accounts of you that I am quite confused."

"I can easily believe that reports of me might differ greatly," he answered gravely. "But Miss Bennet, I would rather you did not sketch my character just now. I have reason to fear that the finished picture would do credit to neither of us."

"But if I do not sketch it now, I may never have another chance."

"I would not for the world stand in the way of your pleasure," he said coldly. Elizabeth said no more. They moved through the next figure of the dance in silence, and then parted. Neither of them was easy in mind. But not to the same degree. Darcy held rather strong feelings for her. So he soon forgave Elizabeth, and turned all his anger toward someone else.

Soon after they parted, Miss Bingley came up to her. She spoke with a look of polite contempt.

"So, Miss Eliza. I hear you are quite taken with George Wickham. Your sister has been asking me about him again and again. That young man tells everyone else's business, but he seems to have forgotten to mention that he is the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward. But let me advise you, as a friend, not to believe everything he says. It is completely false that Mr. Darcy has treated him unjustly. On the contrary, Mr. Darcy has always been unusually kind to him. It is George Wickham who has treated Mr. Darcy most shamefully. I do not know the whole story, but I know for certain that Mr. Darcy is not at all to blame. He cannot even bear to hear the name George Wickham spoken. My brother could not well leave him off the officers' invitation. But he was very glad when Wickham chose to keep away on his own. It was shockingly bold of him to show his face in this county at all. I am amazed that he dared to do it. I feel sorry that Miss Eliza has only now learned that the man she favors is guilty of such things. But truly, given his birth, one could not expect any better from him."

"By your account, then, his guilt and his birth are the same thing," said Elizabeth angrily. "For you have named no worse crime than being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward. And I can assure you that he told me that fact himself."

"I beg your pardon," said Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer. "Excuse my interference. It was kindly meant."

"Insolent woman!" said Elizabeth to herself. "You are quite mistaken if you think such a poor attack could change my opinion. All I see in this is your own willful blindness to the truth, and Mr. Darcy's malice." Then she went to find her elder sister, who had promised to ask Bingley about the matter. Jane met her with a smile full of warm satisfaction and a face glowing with happiness. Her expression that evening plainly showed how pleased she was. Elizabeth soon read her sister's heart. In that moment, her worry over Wickham and her anger at his enemies both fell away, before the hope that Jane was on the smoothest road to happiness.

"I want to hear what you found out about Mr. Wickham," said Elizabeth, her face as bright as her sister's. "But if you had too pleasant a time to spare a thought for anyone else, I will gladly forgive you."

"No," Jane answered. "I did not forget. But I cannot tell you anything satisfying. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole story. He has no idea what the real cause of Mr. Darcy's anger is. But he can vouch that his friend behaves properly, and is honest and honorable. And he firmly believes that Mr. Wickham deserves far less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has received. I am sorry to say that, according to Mr. Bingley and his sister, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I think he must have acted very carelessly, to lose Mr. Darcy's good opinion."

"But Mr. Bingley himself does not know Mr. Wickham."

"No. He first saw him in Meryton a few mornings ago."

"Then he must have heard the story from Mr. Darcy. How very satisfying. But what does he say about the living?"

"He has heard about it from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he cannot remember the exact details. He believes it was left conditionally, in the will."

"I do not doubt Mr. Bingley's sincerity in the least," said Elizabeth warmly. "But you must forgive me for not being satisfied with mere assurances. I believe Mr. Bingley has defended his friend very well. But since he does not know several parts of the story, and heard the rest from his friend himself, I shall go on thinking exactly what I thought of both gentlemen before."

Then the sisters turned to a happier subject, one on which they could not disagree. Elizabeth listened with pleasure to Jane's happy and modest hopes about Bingley's feelings. She did everything she could to make her sister more confident. When Mr. Bingley himself came up to them, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss Lucas. Miss Lucas asked whether her last partner had been an agreeable one. Before Elizabeth could answer properly, Mr. Collins came up to them. He looked as pleased as a man who had just discovered something very important.

"By a strange coincidence," he said, "I have just discovered that a close relation of my patroness is in this very room. I happened to overhear that gentleman mention, to the young lady acting as mistress of this house, the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh and her mother, Lady Catherine. How amazing that such things happen! Who would have thought I should meet a nephew, or perhaps a nephew, of Lady Catherine de Bourgh at this very gathering! I am most thankful to have found it out in time to pay my respects. I trust I shall be forgiven for not doing so sooner. My complete ignorance of the connection must excuse me."

"Surely you do not mean to go and introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy directly?"

"I certainly do. I shall beg his pardon for not paying my respects sooner. I believe him to be Lady Catherine's nephew. I am also able to tell him that her ladyship was in excellent health as of eight days ago."

Elizabeth tried her hardest to talk him out of the idea. She told him plainly that Mr. Darcy would take such an unintroduced approach as impertinence, not as a compliment to his aunt. She said the two of them had no need to know each other at all. And even if they did, she said, it was Mr. Darcy, as the superior in rank, who ought to begin the acquaintance. Mr. Collins listened to her with the look of a man determined to do as he pleased. When Elizabeth finished speaking, he answered.

"My dear Miss Elizabeth, in every matter within your understanding, I hold your excellent judgment in higher regard than anyone else's in the world. But allow me to say that there must be a great difference between the manners proper among laypeople and those that apply to the clergy. I also believe that, so long as due humility is kept in one's conduct, the clerical office ranks in dignity with the very highest position in this kingdom. I shall therefore follow the dictates of my conscience, and do what I consider my duty on this occasion. Forgive me for not following your advice. In every other matter I shall always take you as my guide. But in the question before us now, I believe that I, with my education and years of steady study, am better suited than a young lady such as yourself to judge what is right." Mr. Collins bowed low, left Elizabeth, and strode off toward Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth watched eagerly to see how Darcy would take this approach. Darcy's surprise at being suddenly addressed by Mr. Collins was plain to see. Her cousin began speaking with a solemn bow. Elizabeth could not hear a single word. Yet she felt as if she heard it all. She could read the words "apology," "Hunsford," and "Lady Catherine de Bourgh" on his moving lips. It made her angry to see her cousin make a fool of himself before such a man. Darcy watched him with unconcealed astonishment. When Mr. Collins finally gave him a chance to speak, Darcy answered with cold, mere politeness. But Mr. Collins was not discouraged, and went on talking again. As his second speech grew longer, Darcy's contempt seemed to grow more and more visible. When it ended, he only gave a slight bow and moved away. Then Mr. Collins came back to Elizabeth.

"I do assure you," he said, "that I have no reason at all to be dissatisfied with my reception. Mr. Darcy seemed very pleased by my attention. He answered me with the utmost politeness, and even paid me the compliment of saying that he had such firm faith in Lady Catherine's judgment that she could never bestow a favor on anyone unworthy. It was truly an excellent thought. On the whole, I am extremely pleased with him."

Elizabeth no longer had any attention to spare for her own affairs. She turned her thoughts almost entirely to her sister and Mr. Bingley. The happy thoughts that rose one after another as she watched them made her nearly as happy as Jane herself. She pictured her sister as mistress of this very house, with all the happiness that a marriage of true affection could bring. At such a time, she felt she could even try to like Bingley's two sisters. It was plain enough that her mother's thoughts ran the same way. She decided not to go near her, for fear of hearing too much. So when they sat down to supper, she thought it terribly bad luck to find herself placed close to her mother, with only one person between them. And she was very angry to find that her mother was talking to that very person, Lady Lucas, about her own expectation that Jane would soon marry Mr. Bingley, without hiding it in the least. It was a subject that raised Mrs. Bennet's spirits to the highest. She never tired of listing the good points of the match. First there was joy that Bingley was such a charming young man, and rich, and living only three miles away. Next it was a great comfort to think how much his two sisters liked Jane. They must, she was sure, want the marriage just as much as she did. Besides, if Jane made such a splendid match, it would open the way for her younger daughters to meet other rich men. Last of all, at her age, it was a great pleasure that she could leave her unmarried daughters in her elder daughter's care, and need not go out into society more often than she liked. It was proper, in such circumstances, to say one was pleased, so this too she counted as a pleasure. But no one, at any time of life, ever found less comfort in staying at home than Mrs. Bennet. She finished by wishing Lady Lucas the same good fortune soon. Yet she plainly believed, with great satisfaction, that there was not the least chance of it.

Elizabeth tried in vain to stop her mother's flow of words. It was useless even to persuade her to lower her voice as she whispered out her happiness. To her utter annoyance, she could tell that Mr. Darcy, sitting across from them, had overheard most of it. Her mother only scolded her for talking nonsense.

"What is Mr. Darcy to me, that I should be afraid of him? We have no special reason to be so polite that we cannot say a single word he might not like to hear."

"Please, Mother, lower your voice. What good can it possibly do you to offend Mr. Darcy? That will never give his friend a good impression of you."

But nothing Elizabeth said made the least difference. Her mother went on talking about her plans in a voice that carried clearly. Elizabeth blushed again and again with shame and anger. She could not help glancing often toward Mr. Darcy. Each time, she confirmed what she had feared. He was not always looking at her mother. But she was sure his ears remained fixed on what she said. The look on his face slowly changed from angry contempt to a calm, unshaken gravity.

At last even Mrs. Bennet ran out of things to say. Lady Lucas, who had long been yawning as she heard of pleasures she had no hope of sharing, now found comfort in cold ham and chicken. Elizabeth too began to recover her spirits. But the calm did not last long. When supper ended, talk turned to singing. Elizabeth suffered the humiliation of watching Mary prepare to entertain the company, though hardly anyone had asked her to. Elizabeth tried, with many meaningful looks and silent pleas, to stop her from showing such kindness. But it was useless. Mary would not understand her meaning. A chance to show off her skill was a delight to Mary. She soon began to sing. Elizabeth, in great distress, could not take her eyes off Mary. She watched anxiously as verse followed verse. The reward Mary earned when the song ended was poor. When the people at the table, hoping only to be thanked, looked as if they might ask for another song, Mary rested half a minute and began a second one. Mary's talent was not at all suited to such an occasion. Her voice was weak, and her manner was affected. Elizabeth was in agony. She looked to see how Jane was bearing it, but her sister was talking to Bingley quite calmly. Bingley's two sisters exchanged mocking looks with each other. She looked toward Darcy too, but he remained as gravely unreadable as ever. Fearing that Mary might sing all night, Elizabeth sent her father a pleading look, begging him to step in. Mr. Bennet understood her meaning. When Mary finished her second song, he spoke loudly.

"That was very fine, my dear. You have entertained us long enough. Let the other young ladies have a chance to show their skill."

Mary pretended not to hear, but she was a little embarrassed. Elizabeth felt sorry both for Mary and for her father's words. Her own worry seemed to have done no good at all. Now the request for a song passed to others in the party.

"If I," said Mr. Collins, "had the good fortune to be able to sing, I would gladly have delighted this company with a song. For I consider music a most harmless amusement, and perfectly suited to the office of a clergyman. But I do not mean to say that a man may give too much of his time to music. There is certainly other business to attend to. A parish clergyman has much work to do. First he must settle the tithes in a way that benefits himself without offending his patron. He must write his own sermons. What time is left after that must go to the care and repair of the parish and his own dwelling, and there will not be much to spare. He must not neglect to make that dwelling as comfortable as possible. Nor, I think, is it a small duty to be attentive and gentle to everyone, especially to those who have placed him in that position. That duty cannot be set aside. And I cannot think well of a man who lets slip a chance to show respect to anyone connected with that family." He ended his speech with a bow to Mr. Darcy, in a voice loud enough for half the room to hear. Many people stared, and many smiled. But no one was more amused than Mr. Bennet. His wife, on the other hand, sincerely praised Mr. Collins for speaking so sensibly. In a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, she said he was a truly clever and good young man.

It seemed to Elizabeth that if her family had agreed beforehand to make as great a show of themselves as they could that evening, they could hardly have played their parts with more spirit or greater success. It was fortunate that part of the scene had escaped Bingley's notice. And Bingley was not the kind of man to be greatly troubled by any foolishness he could not help seeing. That much was fortunate for him and for her sister. But it was dreadful enough that his two sisters and Mr. Darcy had been given the chance to laugh at her family. She could not tell which was harder to bear — the gentleman's silent contempt, or the ladies' insolent smiles.

The rest of the evening brought little pleasure. Elizabeth was worn out by Mr. Collins, who stayed stubbornly at her side. He could not get her to agree to dance with him again. But he made it hard for her to dance with anyone else. It was useless to urge him to dance with someone else, or to offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room. He had no interest in dancing itself. His main object was to pay her delicate attention, and give her a good impression of himself. So he declared he would stay close beside her all evening. There was no arguing with such a plan. Her greatest relief came from her friend Miss Lucas. Charlotte often joined them, and kindly drew Mr. Collins's conversation toward herself.

At least she was spared the annoyance of further attention from Mr. Darcy. He often stood quite near her with nothing to do. But he never came close enough to speak. Elizabeth believed this was because of her hint about Mr. Wickham, and she was glad of the result.

The Longbourn party was the last of all the guests to leave. Because of a scheme of Mrs. Bennet's, they had to wait fifteen minutes for their carriage after everyone else had gone. This gave some members of the household time to show just how sincerely they wished them gone. Mrs. Hurst and her sister hardly opened their mouths, except to complain of being tired. It was plain they were eager to have the house to themselves. They turned away every attempt Mrs. Bennet made to talk to them. This cast a weary silence over the whole party. Even Mr. Collins's long speech, praising Mr. Bingley and his sisters for their elegant party and their hospitality and manners toward their guests, did little to lift the mood. Darcy said nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, just as silent, enjoyed the scene. Mr. Bingley and Jane stood a little apart from the others, talking only to each other. Elizabeth stayed as silent as Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley. Even Lydia was too tired to talk. Now and then she yawned loudly and cried, "Lord, how tired I am!" but said nothing else.

At last it was time to rise and take leave. Mrs. Bennet spoke with great warmth and courtesy, saying how earnestly she hoped to see the whole family at Longbourn soon. She assured Mr. Bingley in particular that they would all be delighted if he would come to a family dinner at any time, without any formal invitation. Bingley was full of gratitude and pleasure. He was obliged to go to London briefly the next day. He readily promised to call on them at the earliest moment after his return.

Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied. She left the house with the happy certainty that, even allowing for the time needed to arrange the marriage settlement, a new carriage, and wedding clothes, she would surely see her daughter mistress of Netherfield within three or four months. She was equally certain that another daughter would marry Mr. Collins. She was quite pleased about this match too, but not to the same degree. Elizabeth was the daughter her mother loved least of all her children. Both the man and the match were good enough for her. But they both lost their shine beside the worth of Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.