Chapter 60

Elizabeth was soon in a playful mood again. She wanted Mr. Darcy to tell her how in the world he had ever come to love her. "How were you ever able to start? I can understand that you went on beautifully once you had made a start. But at the very beginning, what was it that moved your heart?"

"I cannot name the time or the place where the foundation was laid, nor the look or the words that laid it. It was all too long ago. When I knew that I had begun to love, I was already in the middle of it."

"You did not give way to my beauty early on. And I need not even mention my manners. My behavior toward him was always on the very edge of rudeness, at the least. Whenever I spoke, I wished to give pain rather than to avoid giving it. Now, tell me honestly. Did you admire me for my insolence?"

"I admired the lively spirit of your mind."

"You may call it insolence if you like. There was hardly any difference. The truth is that he was sick of politeness, of respect, and of the kind of attention that loves to meddle. He was disgusted with the women who spoke and looked and thought only to win his praise. I was so unlike them that I woke him and drew his interest. If he had not been a truly kind man, he would have hated me. But however hard he tried to hide his true self, his feelings were always noble and just. And in his heart he utterly despised the people who worked so busily to win his favor. There. I have saved you the trouble of explaining. When I consider everything, I begin to think that this makes perfect sense. Of course he knew nothing at all of what real merit I had. But no one thinks about such a thing when falling in love."

"Was there no merit in the loving care you gave Jane when she was ill at Netherfield?"

"It was Jane, whom I love most of all. Who could have done less for her? But please make a virtue of it all the same. My good qualities are under his protection now, so you must make as much of them as you can. In return, it must be my business to find chances to tease and to quarrel as often as I can. I shall begin at once. Why were you so unwilling to come to the point at the end? When you first called, and later when you dined here, why were you so shy in front of me? And on that first visit above all, why did you look like a man who cared nothing for me?"

"Because you kept so serious a silence, and you gave me no courage at all."

"But I was flustered."

"So was I."

"When you came to dine, you might have talked with me more."

"A man who felt less might have done so."

"How unlucky it is that you can give an answer so reasonable, and that I am reasonable enough to accept it! I wonder how long you would have gone on, if you had been left alone. When would you have spoken, if I had not asked you first? My resolve to thank you for your kindness to Lydia certainly had a great effect. I am afraid it had too great a one. If our happiness has come out of the breaking of a promise, what becomes of the moral? For I ought never to have spoken of it. This will not do."

"You need not distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. It was Lady Catherine's unjust efforts to separate us that removed all my doubts. I do not owe my present happiness to your eager wish to show your gratitude. I was in no mood to wait until you should make an opening. What my aunt told me gave me hope, and I was determined to find out everything at once."

"Lady Catherine has been of use beyond all measure, and she ought to be glad of it. She loves to be of use to others. But do tell me. What did you come down to Netherfield for? Was it only to ride over to Longbourn and be flustered? Or had you planned some more serious result?"

"My true purpose was to see you, and to learn whether I might still hope to make you love me one day. The purpose I owned to, or rather the one I owned to myself, was to see whether your sister still cared for Bingley. If she did, I meant to make him the confession that I did in fact make later."

"Will you ever be able to find the courage to tell Lady Catherine what is about to happen to her?"

"Elizabeth, I am more likely to want time than courage. But it must be done. If you will give me a sheet of paper, I shall do it at once."

"If I had no letter of my own to write, I would sit beside you and admire the evenness of your hand, as another young lady once did. But I have an aunt of my own, and I must neglect her no longer."

Elizabeth did not like to admit that people had thought her far closer to Mr. Darcy than she really was, and so she had not yet answered Mrs. Gardiner's long letter. But now she was able to send her aunt the news that would please her above everything else. She was almost ashamed to think that her uncle and aunt had already lost three days of happiness. Elizabeth wrote at once as follows.

"My dear aunt, I ought to have thanked you sooner for your long letter, so full of detail and kindness and satisfaction. I ought indeed. But to tell the truth, I was out of temper, and I could not write. You guessed at more than there really was. But now you may guess as much as you please. Set your imagination free, and let it fly to every place that this matter will allow. Unless you believe that I am already married, you cannot go far wrong. You must write to me again very soon, and praise him a great deal more than you did last time. I thank you again and again for our not going to the Lake District. How could I ever have been foolish enough to wish to go there! Your idea about the ponies is an excellent one. We shall go around the park every day. I am the happiest person in the world. Others may have said so before me, but no one could have said it with so much right. I am happier even than Jane. My sister only smiles, but I am the one who laughs. Mr. Darcy sends you all the love in the world that he can spare from me. You must all come to Pemberley at Christmas. With love."

Mr. Darcy's letter to Lady Catherine was written in a different manner. And what Mr. Bennet sent in answer to Mr. Collins's last letter was different again from both of them.

"My dear sir,

"I must trouble you for congratulations once more. Elizabeth will soon be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Comfort Lady Catherine as well as you can. But if I were you, I would take the nephew's side. He has more to offer.

"Yours sincerely."

Miss Bingley's congratulations to her brother on the coming marriage had everything that was affectionate and everything that was insincere. She wrote to Jane as well, to express her joy, and she repeated every profession of affection that she had made before. Jane was not deceived, but she was touched. Though she placed no trust in her, she could not help writing an answer far kinder than she believed was deserved.

The joy that Miss Darcy showed on hearing the same news was as true as her brother's own feeling when he sent it. Four sides of a sheet of paper were not enough to hold all her delight, and all her eager wish to be loved by her new sister-in-law.

Before Mr. Collins's answer, or his wife's congratulations, could reach Elizabeth, the Longbourn family heard that the Collinses themselves had come to Lucas Lodge. The reason for so sudden a move was soon plain. Lady Catherine had read her nephew's letter and had grown terribly angry. Charlotte, who was truly glad of the marriage, wished to be out of the way until the storm had passed. To have her friend come at such a time was a real pleasure to Elizabeth. But while they were together, there were moments when she thought that pleasure too dearly bought, for she saw Mr. Darcy suffering under all the showy and fawning politeness of her friend's husband. Darcy bore it with wonderful calm. He could even listen with fair composure while Sir William Lucas congratulated him on carrying off the brightest jewel of this part of the country, and said that he hoped they would all meet often at St. James's court. If he shrugged his shoulders, it was not until Sir William was out of sight.

Mrs. Philips's coarseness was another burden on his patience, and perhaps a greater one. Mrs. Philips, like her sister Mrs. Bennet, stood in too much awe of Darcy. So she could not speak to him with the freedom that Bingley's cheerfulness allowed. Yet whenever she opened her mouth, she could not help being coarse. Her respect for him made her say less, but it had no power at all to make her graceful. Elizabeth did everything she could to shield him from the frequent attentions of these two. She always tried to keep him near herself, or near those of her family with whom he could talk without humiliation. The uncomfortable feelings that came out of all this took a good deal of the pleasure out of the time of their courtship. But it made her look forward to the future all the more. She waited with joy for the day when the two of them would be away from the people who gave neither of them much pleasure, and would live in comfort and elegance among their own family at Pemberley.