Chapter 3
“We would have three full courses — no, four. Soup, fish, meat, and pudding. It would only be a family supper, but Mr Bingley would expect four courses, do not you think, Jane?”
“I do not know, Mama,” Jane demurred shyly, turning from the drawing room window where Elizabeth had observed her for some time gazing out over the path that led towards Netherfield Park. “Should we not invite Mr Bingley first and see whether he is available before we talk of menus?”
“Did you not get any sense of his preferences from your conversation at the assembly rooms, Jane?” her mother persisted, ignoring her question. “You spoke to both of his sisters too, I recall. I was most gratified to see you so engaged with the whole Bingley family.”
“Oh, they probably spoke of dancing and music and food, like all the rest of us in Meryton that night,” Elizabeth put in, coming to her sister’s side with a smile.
“Jane is right, Mother. You should first simply send a messenger over to Netherfield Park with an invitation. That would be the best starting point.”
Mrs Bennet gave a loud “hmph” of displeasure and folded her arms.
“That is all very well for you to say, Lizzy, but what if there are certain members of Mr Bingley’s present party that I do not wish to have at my supper table?”
“His sisters were most gracious to me,” Jane quickly assured her mother. “I am sure that you must invite them too. I cannot imagine that Mr Bingley would accept any invitation that excluded his sisters.”
“Of course I would invite them, Jane. Who said anything about not inviting Miss Bingley or Mrs Hurst? I should very much like to talk to them myself. Such elegant ladies! Such fine London gowns! No, it is only that tall, disagreeable fellow who slighted Lizzy whom I wish to exclude.”
“Mr Darcy?” said Elizabeth with surprise. “I don’t see how you could possibly invite the rest of the party and leave him out.”
Until now, she had not realised that her mother had taken Mr Darcy’s mild insult so much to heart. She herself had felt far more annoyed by Mr Darcy’s disdain for her neighbourhood and its inhabitants than for her own person.
Elizabeth was not much accustomed to thinking of herself as a local beauty, nor inclined to resent any slights against such a title.
She might be her father’s favourite among the five girls, but she had certainly never been her mother’s.
That crown belonged sometimes to Jane as the eldest and most beautiful, and sometimes to Lydia as the youngest and closest to Mrs Bennet herself in temperament.
“Yes, Mr Darcy, if it pleases him to call himself that,” answered Mrs Bennet with a rather superior, and, to Elizabeth’s mind, nonsensical air.
“I believe that if Mr Bennet were to go over to Netherfield Park himself and invite Mr Bingley in person, as one man to another, any misunderstanding or embarrassment could be avoided.”
“What is that you say, Mrs Bennet?” spoke up Mr Bennet, hitherto silent in his armchair and deep in a volume of Homer’s Odyssey, but roused into a state of alertness by the mention of his name.
“You wish to send me about the country calling on young men all over again? Dear me. Am I to have no peace at all now that this Bingley is in the neighbourhood?”
“You must call on Mr Bingley directly, Mr Bennet. If I send an invitation first, it must be taken as including their whole party. If you make it clear to Mr Bingley that it is a family invitation for him and his sisters, then any awkwardness or offence can be avoided.”
Jane sighed, and Elizabeth put an arm around her waist. They had both been excited when Mrs Bennet first suggested inviting Mr Bingley to a family supper, but now the matter was turning into the usual rigmarole that attended any of their mother’s schemes.
“You overestimate my capacity for subtlety, Mrs Bennet, perhaps also my intellect and even my taste,” said Mr Bennet, blinking with deliberate owlishness over the top of his spectacles.
“I would much rather you invite the entire Netherfield household and not bother me. If this Mr Darcy possesses as much antipathy for normal social intercourse as it seems, he will decline the invitation in any case, to everyone’s satisfaction. ”
“But what if he does not?” Mrs Bennet complained. “What if that man comes here and sits at my table and makes conversation with my girls?”
“None of that seems very likely to me from what I’ve seen of the man,” Mr Bennet replied. “If he did, I suppose we must give him a plate and a glass like everyone else. He could hardly be left outside with a bowl like one of the dogs, could he?”
Elizabeth could not help smiling, even though her mother shrieked aloud at this fresh absurdity and waved her lace handkerchief fretfully towards her aggravating husband.
“No, I suppose not,” Mr Bennet continued, shaking his head as though having seriously considered the idea. “We’d best have Mr Darcy inside with the rest. Then he can at least make conversation with Mr Bingley and his sisters, which will save me some of the trouble of doing so.”
“Mr Bennet, you are being wilfully obtuse! Don’t you see that you must call on Mr Bingley? I do not want Mr Darcy in my home. Surely I cannot be blamed for taking this stance under the circumstances.”
“Your attitude seems a rather silly overreaction, if you will forgive me such frankness, my dear. Surely all this Darcy has done to offend our family was refuse to dance with Elizabeth. As she does not like him anyway and was not in the least put out, I fail to see any cause for carrying the matter further.”
“I do not like him at all, Father,” Elizabeth confirmed.
“Mr Darcy might be handsome, rich and highborn, but he is also proud and rude. I would rather dance with a poor man of better character. Anyway, I believe it is as you say, and he would accept no invitations in the neighbourhood, in any case. We have insufficient titles or fortune to tempt him here.”
“There, you see, Mrs Bennet. Lizzy agrees with me, and she has more sense than most girls,” said her father, sharing a smile with his second daughter.
“What has Lizzy to do with anything?” their mother exclaimed crossly, always angrier when she believed members of her family were conspiring against her.
“As for sense, she carries on as though she had the dowry of a duke’s daughter, rather than your estate being entailed away so unfairly to your cousin, who will likely leave us all to starve when you die. ”
“How cheerful your thinking always is, Mrs Bennet!” Mr Bennet remarked brightly. “I was inclined towards low spirits when I first awoke today and saw the weather, but your optimistic attitude has quite restored me.”
His wife regarded him suspiciously.
“You may well think all my concerns foolish and trivial, Mr Bennet,” Mrs Bennet told her husband in tones that hinted darkly of weightier matters.
“I can tell that you are poking fun at me, but there are things you do not know about Mr Darcy. If you did, you would support me as a husband and father should.”
“Should I, my dear?” he enquired mildly. “I cannot imagine why you might think so when you have not consulted me yet. To what does your secret knowledge pertain?”
“To Mr Darcy, of course!” Mrs Bennet snapped in exasperation. “I am trying to tell you that there are stronger reasons for my not wishing him under our roof. If I were not so averse to low gossip, I should have spoken to you before now.”
“Ah well, then I suppose it must all remain a mystery,” Mr Bennet sighed with a small smile. He re-opened his book, much to Mrs Bennet’s frustration. “Never mind.”
“Does it not matter to you at all that Mr Darcy may well be illegitimate?”
Jane looked horrified, and Elizabeth frowned strongly at her loose-lipped parent. Mrs Bennet preened triumphantly as though believing herself to have played a trump card. Only Mr Bennet in his armchair seemed entirely unmoved.
“You ought not to listen to Lydia’s prattling, Mother,” warned Elizabeth.
“We all know that Lydia’s head is filled only with dancing, dresses, and anticipation of the militia’s arrival in Meryton.
That is a terrible thing to say about anyone, and with no evidence to support it.
None of us should repeat it, and Lydia ought to be taught to hold her tongue. ”
“I had it from Lady Lucas herself, who had it from Mary King’s aunt,” Mrs Bennet defended herself. “I dare say Lydia had it from Mary King. Well, everyone is saying the same thing, and you cannot blame me for that, Lizzy, nor Lydia.”
“Mother,” Elizabeth began again, seeing how upset Jane was, and trying hard to maintain tact and respect in taking Mrs Bennet to task. “You must see —”
Any further reproof, however, was interrupted by Mr Bennet’s laughter.
“How very amusing,” he chortled. “You do my heart good with your ridiculous jokes, Mrs Bennet. How high my spirits are now!”
“I make no joke, Mr Bennet,” his wife protested, dismayed by his reaction. “Being born out of wedlock is no laughing matter in my view. Coming from Lady Lucas and Mrs King, I have no reason to doubt its veracity.”
This assertion only made her husband laugh harder, even taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at his eyes.
“With such unimpeachable sources, the gossip must be correct. Do you think Lady Lucas and Mrs King would be so kind as to pass on more of their infallible knowledge? Perhaps something of the weather to guide next year’s planting? Or some future winning horses at Ascot?”
As he spoke, Mr Bennet rose from his chair and went to the door, still laughing and shaking his head with hilarity as he departed.
Mrs Bennet followed shortly after him, calling for their housekeeper and complaining loudly of her nerves as she stamped upstairs to take to her bed.