Jane Austin - Pride and Prejudice

agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great

pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman

can bestow.”

Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired

he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such

reflections. Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity:

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley. “I am all

astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite?—and pray,

when am I to wish you joy?”

“That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A

lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to

love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be

wishing me joy.”

“Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter is

absolutely settled. You will be having a charming mother-in-law,

indeed; and, of course, she will always be at Pemberley with

you.”

He listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to

entertain herself in this manner; and as his composure convinced

her that all was safe, her wit flowed long.

Mr. Bennet’s property consisted almost entirely in an estate of

two thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was

entailed, in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and

their mother’s fortune, though ample for her situation in life,

could but ill supply the deficiency of his. Her father had been

an attorney in Meryton, and had left her four thousand pounds.

She had a sister married to a Mr. Phillips, who had been a clerk

to their father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother

settled in London in a respectable line of trade.

The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most

convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually

tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to

their aunt and to a milliner’s shop just over the way. The two

youngest of the family, Catherine and Lydia, were particularly

frequent in these attentions; their minds were more vacant than

their sisters’, and when nothing better offered, a walk to

Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning hours and furnish

conversation for the evening; and however bare of news the

country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some

from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both

with news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia

regiment in the neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter,

and Meryton was the headquarters.

Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most

interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their

knowledge of the officers’ names and connections. Their lodgings

were not long a secret, and at length they began to know the

officers themselves. Mr. Phillips visited them all, and this

opened to his nieces a store of felicity unknown before. They

could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley’s large

fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their mother, was

worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an

ensign.

After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject,

Mr. Bennet coolly observed:

“From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must

be two of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it

some time, but I am now convinced.”

Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with

perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of

Captain Carter, and her hope of seeing him in the course of the

day, as he was going the next morning to London.

“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that you should be

so ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think

slightingly of anybody’s children, it should not be of my own,

however.”

“If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of

it.”

“Yes—but as it happens, they are all of them very clever.”

“This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not

agree. I had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every

particular, but I must so far differ from you as to think our two

youngest daughters uncommonly foolish.”

“My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the

sense of their father and mother. When they get to our age, I

dare say they will not think about officers any more than we do.

I remember the time when I liked a red coat myself very well—and,

indeed, so I do still at my heart; and if a smart young colonel,

with five or six thousand a year, should want one of my girls I

shall not say nay to him; and I thought Colonel Forster looked

very becoming the other night at Sir William’s in his

regimentals.”

“Mamma,” cried Lydia, “my aunt says that Colonel Forster and

Captain Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson’s as they did

when they first came; she sees them now very often standing in

Clarke’s library.”

Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman

with a note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the

servant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet’s eyes sparkled with

pleasure, and she was eagerly calling out, while her daughter

read,

“Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say?

Well, Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love.”

“It is from Miss Bingley,” said Jane, and then read it aloud.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—

“If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa

and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest

of our lives, for a whole day’s _tête-à-tête_ between two women

can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on

receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with

the officers.—Yours ever,

“CAROLINE BINGLEY”

“With the officers!” cried Lydia. “I wonder my aunt did not tell

us of _that_.”

“Dining out,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that is very unlucky.”

“Can I have the carriage?” said Jane.

“No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems

likely to rain; and then you must stay all night.”

“That would be a good scheme,” said Elizabeth, “if you were sure

that they would not offer to send her home.”

“Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley’s chaise to go to

Meryton, and the Hursts have no horses to theirs.”

“I had much rather go in the coach.”

“But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure.

They are wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are they not?”

“They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them.”

“But if you have got them to-day,” said Elizabeth, “my mother’s

purpose will be answered.”

She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the

horses were engaged. Jane was therefore obliged to go on

horseback, and her mother attended her to the door with many

cheerful prognostics of a bad day. Her hopes were answered; Jane

had not been gone long before it rained hard. Her sisters were

uneasy for her, but her mother was delighted. The rain continued

the whole evening without intermission; Jane certainly could not

come back.

“This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!” said Mrs. Bennet more

than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own.