CHAPTER 10
Eight days had passed since Mr. Bennet, his daughter Elizabeth, and Mr. Collins had departed from Rosings.
Their cousin, whose future now appeared unexpectedly transformed by the promise of a respectable living at Kympton and the prospect of a far more advantageous clerical career than anyone at Longbourn had once imagined possible for him, had remained in London in the hope of meeting again with Mr. Darcy to settle the necessary particulars of the arrangement.
Mrs. Bennet had listened—at least outwardly—with proper attention to her husband’s various accounts of Rosings: Lady Catherine’s formidable manners, the astonishing alteration in Mr. Collins’s fortunes, the loss of one parish and the acquisition of another still more desirable; yet all these particulars, however extraordinary in themselves, had very soon yielded precedence in her mind to a consideration infinitely more important.
For if Mr. Bennet’s information was correct—and Elizabeth, whenever appealed to, confirmed every essential circumstance with an honesty too steady to permit contradiction—then Mr. Darcy himself, the wealthy and unmarried nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, intended very shortly to visit Hertfordshire, being, in all probability, interested in the leasing of Netherfield Park before the Michaelmas agreements were concluded at the end of September.
The visit therefore appeared imminent. Nor was Mr. Darcy expected alone.
He was to be accompanied by a friend, likewise unmarried, and evidently possessed of sufficient fortune to contemplate the leasing of a considerable estate.
Mrs. Bennet required no greater encouragement to speculation.
Gentlemen of that description did not travel across half of England merely to admire fields and hedgerows.
Young men naturally formed acquaintances among those nearest their own age and condition; and where there were two unmarried gentlemen with fortune, consequence, and leisure, there existed, by every reasonable calculation, the possibility of two marriages.
Indeed, Mrs. Bennet regarded the matter less as a possibility than as a social opportunity of the highest order—one which no prudent mother possessing five daughters could contemplate with indifference.
Whatever Mr. Bennet might say in his usual tone of provoking composure, she privately acknowledged that her husband had acquitted himself remarkably well in Kent, since the consequence of his journey now appeared likely to bring two exceedingly eligible gentlemen directly to the doors of Longbourn.
Such advantages were not to be neglected through laziness, false modesty, or philosophical restraint.
Longbourn accordingly entered into a state of cheerful agitation and perpetual motion.
The housemaids were instructed with renewed vigilance; the silver received an attention usually reserved for Christmas or assemblies; curtains were examined, carpets beaten, guest chambers aired, and every possible domestic imperfection hunted down with an energy that permitted neither delay nor contradiction.
When social manoeuvre, matrimonial possibility, and the management of visitors united themselves in a common object, Mrs. Bennet displayed abilities which even her severest critics might almost have admired.
Her spirits rose with every arrangement completed; her confidence communicated itself rapidly through the household; and before many days had passed, even Kitty and Lydia began speaking of Netherfield as though its future inhabitants already belonged half to Hertfordshire and half to themselves.
Jane alone preserved her customary serenity, receiving all expectations with gentle caution; while Elizabeth, though far less willing than her mother to construct futures upon uncertain foundations, could not entirely prevent her thoughts from returning more frequently than she wished to the prospect of Mr. Darcy’s arrival.
As for Mrs. Bennet, she moved through Longbourn with the triumphant vigilance of a general preparing not merely for company, but for destiny itself.
***
The second morning, the arrival of the letter at Longbourn produced an agitation far exceeding that which ordinarily accompanied the morning post.
Hill had scarcely entered the breakfast parlour with the salver in her hands before Mrs. Bennet, whose vigilance regarding every possible communication connected with Netherfield had lately assumed something almost military in regularity, perceived at once that the direction was unfamiliar and the seal considerably superior to anything usually received from tradesmen, attorneys, or neighbouring relations.
“My dear Mr. Bennet,” she exclaimed immediately, abandoning every appearance of composure, “there now! I knew perfectly well that something of consequence would follow. I said only yesterday that gentlemen do not travel about the country speaking of estates merely for their amusement.”
Mr. Bennet, whose curiosity generally expressed itself with rather less noise and considerably more leisure, smiled and adjusted his spectacles with deliberate calmness before examining the superscription.
“It appears, at least,” he observed, “that Mr. Darcy is capable of writing his own name with great firmness and regularity; a circumstance which must afford comfort to all connected with him.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mr. Bennet, do not begin amusing yourself before you have opened the letter. You would keep an entire household in suspense merely to enjoy your own indifference.”
Elizabeth, though outwardly far calmer than her mother, nevertheless felt a quickening of attention which she found it impossible entirely to master.
Jane lowered her work almost unconsciously upon her lap; Kitty ceased midway through the dangerous operation of balancing butter upon an already overburdened piece of toast; while even Mary, though determined to preserve an appearance of superior rationality, visibly delayed turning the page of the improving volume she had placed beside her plate.
Mr. Bennet at last broke the seal and unfolded the letter with such composure that Mrs. Bennet’s impatience became nearly insupportable.
The silence which followed endured scarcely half a minute, yet appeared sufficiently long to convince Lydia that either Netherfield had burned down entirely or Mr. Darcy had changed his mind and removed himself permanently to Derbyshire.
“Well, my dear,” Mrs. Bennet cried at last, “must we all expire before you reach the conclusion?”
Mr. Bennet folded the letter again with provoking serenity before replying.
“Mr. Darcy informs me,” he said, “that he and his friend, Mr. Bingley, expect to arrive tomorrow at Meryton, where they intend first to inspect Netherfield Park before determining anything final respecting the lease. As I had previously offered my assistance in the matter, they request the favour of meeting me at noon before the town hall at Meryton, from which we are to proceed together to the estate.”
Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands together with such force and triumph that Lydia immediately feared for the safety of the lace at her sleeves.
“Tomorrow! Good gracious! Jane, my love, did you hear? Two gentlemen arriving together, and one of them positively intending to take Netherfield, I am convinced of it already.”
Mr. Bennet glanced toward her with mild composure.
“The letter does not explicitly state that Mr. Bingley has surrendered either his caution or his judgment, my dear. It merely suggests that he remains willing to examine the house before condemning himself to residence within it.”
“But everybody admires Netherfield,” Mrs. Bennet insisted. “There is not a finer place to be leased anywhere in the county, and wealthy young gentlemen do not ride about England inspecting disagreeable houses out of mere curiosity.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth observed with quiet gravity, “their fortunes naturally preserve them from the possibility of disappointment.”
Mrs. Bennet, whose satisfaction rendered her almost gloriously incapable of perceiving irony, continued without interruption.
“And they are coming directly to Meryton before visiting anybody else? Lord, Hill must immediately begin preparing the guest chambers. No—perhaps they will not stay. Though gentlemen inspecting estates must certainly require refreshment. We shall need cold meats at the very least, and perhaps something hot besides. A gentleman is always more inclined to admire a property after dining well within the neighbourhood.”
“I had not previously understood,” Mr. Bennet remarked, “that the prosperity of Netherfield depended materially upon ragout and pastry.”
“My dear Mr. Bennet, impressions govern half the world; and favourable impressions are much more frequently secured by good dinners than country philosophers are willing to admit.”
This reflection, though delivered in agitation, appeared so perfectly sincere that even Elizabeth found herself unable entirely to dispute its truth.
“I hope Mr. Bingley may indeed find the place agreeable,” Jane said with her usual gentleness and moderation. “Netherfield has remained empty too long, and it would be pleasant to see it inhabited again.”
“And I hope,” Lydia cried eagerly, “that he is handsome, dances well, and keeps a large dinner-table.”
“My dear Lydia,” Mary began with immediate seriousness, “to form expectations founded solely upon appearance and amusement displays a dangerous deficiency of rational principle.”
“But if he should prove extremely ugly, Mary,” Kitty interrupted with unusual practical force, “you can hardly expect Jane to admire him merely because his principles are excellent.”
Mary coloured at this attack upon moral consistency and withdrew into dignified silence.