Chapter 4 Darcy attends the Lucas soiree and engages in a war of wits with Miss Elizabeth.
Darcy attends the Lucas soiree and engages in a war of wits with Miss Elizabeth.
Hertfordshire
Mr. Darcy left the Lucas soiree angry with himself.
Following their intellectual discussions in her father’s library, he was enthralled by Miss Elizabeth Bennet and engrossed with the need to speak with her at every opportunity and feel her approbation.
He had planned to converse with her almost exclusively that evening: to flirt and be flirted with, to enjoy her as a woman who intrigued him, to welcome her attention.
His intentions were bolder than his actions.
He spent the first part of the evening watching Elizabeth, considering how to approach her and initiate a drawing room conversation.
Shortly after he had divested himself of his outer garments, she attended to Miss Mary, whose bonnet ribbons had become entangled.
He was already being announced at the drawing room and required by politeness to enter; thus he had to wait until an appropriate time to greet her.
Twice, he tried to approach her when she appeared to be available, but both times he was interrupted by others, and then he was thwarted when he asked her to dance.
He would have to content himself with the next occasion where he would see her to try to understand this fascination.
Mr. Darcy was an enigma to Elizabeth. When he visited Longbourn, he willingly entered into uplifting discussions about science and philosophy, and he was a worthy adversary when arguing almost any point, even if he had a fair bit of pride regarding his depth of knowledge.
She begrudgingly conceded his greater information; he had a university education, and he had travelled in the world.
No home education could compete with that.
Still, she liked that he was not off-put by her ability to converse intelligently on topics usually forbidden to a woman, and she found herself drawn to him in a way that was frightening to her.
But she was unsure of his regard and felt in danger of wanting his attention too much.
He was watching her from across the room.
She was not sure whether it was in disapprobation and hoped for the compliment of a positive regard, but could not be sure; his expression was unreadable as was usual in public situations.
When he approached her group and she made a banal statement, he responded in a way that could have been construed as flirtatious but also might be interpreted as his comparing her with every other simpering woman who lived for trivial entertainment.
She did not want to be seen as sweet and fawning, and viewed the use of feminine wiles as frightfully resembling the cloying Caroline Bingley, whose type of flirtatiousness did not seem to attract him.
Thank goodness Charlotte opened the instrument, for she was feeling all the inelegance of her inability to come up with a clever rejoinder.
There was no question she was confused at his request to dance when plied by Sir William, and she was embarrassed at having no idea whether he really wanted to dance.
Mortified that he no doubt felt forced to ask, similar to when Mr. Bingley tried to coerce him into dancing with her at the Meryton assembly, her feelings were hurt over both situations.
Privately, she admitted that she yearned for such a handsome and important man to want her company of his own accord, but those feelings were in conflict with her insistence upon being cross with him for his rude comments and for usurping her position as the cleverest in the Longbourn drawing room.
These thoughts left her sleepless for yet another night while she wondered about her captivation with his handsome countenance, his friendly if reserved manner and her own burgeoning appreciation for his fine eyes.
Not many days later, while the Bennet family was enjoying their breakfast, a note addressed to Miss Jane Bennet was brought in by a footman.
Jane shared the contents with her family: Miss Bingley invited Jane to Netherfield for dinner to help reduce the tedium she and Mrs. Hurst might feel whilst the men of their party dined with the officers.
“It is a compliment to you to be considered a favourite from such a short acquaintance. Of course, you must agree to visit,” said Mrs. Bennet with no little enthusiasm. “Thomas, we must allow her to take the carriage, for it looks like it might rain.”
Mr. Bennet agreed, and Jane attended a lovely dinner with stimulating conversation, even if Miss Bingley chose a little too often to ask questions intended to provoke embarrassment regarding Jane’s fortune and connections.
Although she should have been offended, Jane’s kindness allowed her to maintain admirable composure under the interrogation.
The entire Netherfield party was invited to dinner at the Bennet home to reciprocate the generous invitation to Jane.
When the gentlemen re-joined the ladies after the meal, Lydia Bennet, kindly thinking of her elder sisters’ opportunity for an enjoyable pursuit, politely reminded Mr. Bingley of his earlier suggestion to hold a ball at Netherfield Park and asked when such an event might take place.
Before he could respond, Miss Bingley asserted herself in a rather indecorous fashion and argued against the idea of a ball, implying that some members of the Netherfield party would consider it a trial to bear.
Her brother refuted her opinion and declared a date would be set as soon as his cook could prepare enough white soup.
“I should like balls infinitely better,” Miss Bingley added, “if they were carried on in a different manner, but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing were the order of the day.”
“Much more rational, Miss Bingley, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a ball,” Mrs. Bennet responded in a serious tone but with a twinkle in her eye.
Darcy ignored Miss Bingley’s comment. “Bingley, a ball is just the thing to help establish you into your deserved place in the county’s hierarchy with the appropriate level of respect and deference.”
Mr. Bennet nodded in agreement. “Indeed, Mr. Bingley, your hospitality will do much to generate friendship and ensure respect among the local gentry.”
Bennet then turned to Darcy. “Mr. Darcy may not like dancing, but he can join me in watching the festivities from the side.” Darcy nodded, and the two men returned to discussing a book Bennet had shown him.
Miss Bingley was frustrated; she could not dislodge Mr. Darcy’s interest from the book he was holding.
She rose and walked elegantly past the gentlemen.
Darcy, at whom this antic was aimed, remained inflexibly studious in his discussion with his friend.
Mrs. Bennet watched the drama unfold as she attended to her work.
Irritated by the lack of response, Miss Bingley resolved on one more effort and turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room. I assure you, it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.”
Elizabeth was surprised but agreed immediately.
Miss Bingley succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy looked up.
He was as much awake to the novelty of attention from that quarter as Elizabeth herself could be and unconsciously closed his book. Mr. Bennet’s attention followed.
“Mr. Darcy, won’t you join our little party? It is so refreshing to walk about the room,” Miss Bingley drawled.
“I must decline your invitation because I can imagine but two motives for ladies choosing to walk about the room together, and my joining you would interfere with either of those.”
“What could he mean? I am dying to know what could be his meaning! Miss Elizabeth, pray, can you understand him?”
“I rarely comprehend Mr. Darcy; his logic baffles me,” said Elizabeth, looking straight at him. “Perhaps he will relent if we ask nothing at all about it.”
“Do tell, Mr. Darcy!” Miss Bingley said with a flirtatious smile. Darcy chose to remain silent while watching the ladies calmly without expression. “Sir, you must tell me! I demand to hear your views on the motives of young women walking about a drawing room!”
“I have not the smallest objection to explaining them,” Darcy responded as soon as she allowed him to speak.
“You either have secrets to share or you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking. If the first, I should be completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.” Darcy was triumphant in his teasing as smiles and chuckles came from those who had been attending Miss Bingley’s efforts at flirtation.
“Oh! Shocking!” cried Miss Bingley. “I never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?” she asked Elizabeth, clearly considering her a co-conspirator in gaining Darcy’s attentions.
“Nothing so easy if you have but the inclination,” said Elizabeth, with a mixture of sweetness and archness. “We can all plague and punish Mr. Darcy. Tease him, laugh at him, and challenge his opinions.”
“But upon my honour, I cannot tease calmness of temper and presence of mind. As to laughter, we shall not expose ourselves by attempting to laugh without a subject.”
“Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at?” cried Elizabeth. “That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have such an acquaintance. I dearly love to laugh.”
“The wisest and the best of men—nay, the wisest and best of their actions—may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke,” Darcy retorted with a hint of a smile.
He knew from Elizabeth’s verbal battles that she enjoyed any opportunity for intelligent argument, even at the expense of his pride.
“Certainly,” replied Elizabeth, “there are such people, but I should hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.”
“Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”
“Such as vanity and pride. With excessive pride, one may be unable to bear a challenge.”
“Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.”
Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.
“Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume,” said Miss Bingley. “Pray what is the result?”
“I am perfectly convinced that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise.”
Darcy protested he had made no such pretension. “I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding.”
Elizabeth thought this an absurd show of vanity, rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth to make a sharp rejoinder, but knowing her will to challenge him, Darcy interrupted. “My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever.”
“That is a failing indeed!” cried Elizabeth. “Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it; you are safe from me.”
“There is, I believe, in every disposition, a tendency to some particular shortcoming or flaw—a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.” Elizabeth thought Darcy was once again trying to best her in a quarrel using the argument that his knowledge was superior.
“And your defect is a propensity to argue when your position has no merit,” she replied acerbically but realized she had gone too far at the appearance of her father’s stern look and crossed arms.
“And yours,” he replied with a smile, “is to take a position other than your own to wilfully misunderstand everyone for your own amusement.”
“Do let us have a little music,” said Mrs. Bennet, eager to quash the exchange, which had gained the curiosity of all in the room and the disapprobation of several.
Miss Bingley was glad of the diversion from a conversation in which she had no share.
She was applied to play the pianoforte and gave acceptance to the request with alacrity.
Darcy, after a few moments recollection, was not sorry for it.
He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention.
Miss Bingley played well, if not a little too studied and careful in her expression.
Subsequently, Miss Mary Bennet was persuaded to play, and her extensive work with a music master was apparent.
Elizabeth and Lydia then joined her: the former singing and the latter playing the violin.
Darcy was impressed with the emotion the threesome brought to their performance and the beauty of Miss Elizabeth as she sang.
Later that evening, Mr. Bennet took his daughter aside to chastise her poor conduct in company and especially her ill manners towards Mr. Darcy.
Somewhat abashed that her adversarial feelings had been so obvious, Elizabeth owned to making a scene and agreed to behave with the decorum expected of a Bennet.
However, in her own mind, she was still determined to show up Mr. Darcy.