Chapter 7 #2
“Perhaps. But only because I know how young gentlemen think and feel. I was once exactly the same: proud, independent, uncompromising, and full of prejudices. Life eventually smooths such roughness away. It is exceedingly rare to encounter anyone wholly good or wholly bad. We are all mixtures of both. Look at Jane, whom I adore as much as the rest of you do; still, she has been somewhat selfish in allowing her sorrow to become the principal concern of the family. Or your mother, whom Mr Darcy criticised; she loves gossip and talks excessively. Yet she is also a devoted wife and mother, ready to sacrifice herself entirely for your happiness. I heard her telling your father that the pearls I gave her could one day be used for your future and your sisters’.
Whilst Mr Bingley’s kindness may perhaps conceal weakness, and so on. ”
Elizabeth stole a glance at her uncle in wonder. He was entirely right.
“And me?” she asked, already entering into his game.
“You, my dear, are proud, precisely the fault you accuse Mr Darcy of possessing, prejudicial and much too quick to retaliate whenever you imagine yourself attacked. A proposal is not a battle. At least the gentleman admitted that he loved you.”
∞∞∞
They made a detour to avoid passing directly through Meryton, since Elizabeth knew their walk would otherwise be interrupted continually by ladies eager to greet Thomas Bennet.
“Do you wish to go to Netherfield?” she asked.
“Yes, if you please, my dear.” He glanced at his watch. “Can we reach it in fifteen minutes?”
Elizabeth was intrigued. Was he expecting to meet someone there?
The question rose immediately to her lips, though she did not dare ask it.
After all, Thomas Bennet was her grandfather’s brother, even if they often forgot it because of his youthful appearance and unconventional manner with the younger generation.
She remembered both her grandfathers and the respectful behaviour expected in their presence.
Yet despite Uncle Thomas’s lack of pretension, the entire family respected him deeply, including her father.
“We shall have to walk somewhat faster, but I believe we can reach it in fifteen minutes.”
Elizabeth admired the elegant way he returned his gold watch to his pocket.
Like all his possessions, it was exquisite.
His clothes were made by one of the finest establishments in London, or so Tom had informed the maids.
Like everybody else, the servants were deeply interested in their guest, and through Tom, they had learned many things about him which the family itself did not know.
Mrs Bennet, meanwhile, possessed a remarkable talent for extracting information from everyone around her.
When the girls were children, Mr Bennet used to tell them that even the dog informed their mother of all their misdeeds, and for years they had believed him.
When they reached the gates of Netherfield, they saw a carriage in the distance before the house, proof that somebody had arrived. Elizabeth’s heart gave a sudden leap at the possibility that it might be Mr Bingley.
Uncle Thomas invited her forward with a smile at her astonishment.
“This is private property,” she murmured. “I do not think we ought to enter without invitation.”
But his confident manner and the gesture with which he indicated the gates suggested otherwise.
It became immediately clear to Elizabeth that he was expected there.
Perhaps he had written to Mr Bingley and persuaded him to return and ask for Jane’s hand.
But such things belonged to dreams, not reality.
“Do not worry, we are invited,” Thomas assured her, and together they approached the steps where an elderly gentleman waited for them.
Elizabeth found it difficult to judge his age.
Since Uncle Thomas’s arrival, older gentlemen no longer appeared quite the same to her.
Yet the gentleman standing before Netherfield seemed old in the distinctly English way, with white hair and a walking stick to support him, unlike the elegant cane carried by her uncle.
“Mr Oswald!” Thomas said respectfully.
“Mr Bennet!” the elderly gentleman answered, and instead of bowing, they shook hands, making it plain that this was not their first meeting.
“Allow me to present my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Thomas said.
Elizabeth curtseyed and received a warm smile in return.
“Pray come in,” Mr Oswald invited them.
With visible emotion, Elizabeth entered the house for the first time since November.
Everything remained exactly as she remembered it. Mr Oswald led them to the parlour where so many scenes involving Darcy and the Bingley sisters had taken place. If she closed her eyes, she could still see Darcy standing by the window, tall and silent, appearing indifferent to everyone around him.
She had disliked him from the first moment because of the unkind words he had spoken to Mr Bingley at the Meryton assembly.
Proud and arrogant, he had behaved as though he considered himself superior to everyone in the room, especially the newcomers, who were neither elegant nor handsome enough to merit his approval, whilst she herself was not handsome enough to tempt him.
In return, she had concealed her anger beneath sarcasm.
Jane had been right. They had quarrelled from the beginning of their acquaintance.
But now, after everything that had happened in Kent, another possibility suddenly presented itself.
Perhaps, in time, she had come to regard him with less disapproval and even to admire him in certain respects.
The thought was so disturbing that it nearly brought tears to her eyes in that very parlour, where he had first been amiable for a time and afterwards become arrogantly unbearable once more.
She sat in silence, scarcely listening to the conversation between the two gentlemen, completely lost in memory.
Gradually, however, she began following their discussion.
Mr Oswald was speaking about Netherfield itself and giving a brief history of the estate.
“It has belonged to my late wife’s family for at least three generations, but our son desires a larger estate with a proper income, whilst Netherfield is merely a beautiful house. ”
Astonished, Elizabeth struggled to understand the direction of the conversation. Mr Oswald praised the house whilst Uncle Thomas merely nodded and smiled.
“I asked Miss Bennet to accompany me because she knows the house,” Thomas explained.
“A little,” Elizabeth admitted. “It was rented last year by a gentleman we once knew.”
“Yes, that agreeable fellow, Mr Bingley. He came for the winter, but then departed suddenly with all his party and never returned. A pity. It is a beautiful neighbourhood, not merely the landscape but the people as well. My son knows your father, Mr Bennet, very well; they were companions in youth. There were many balls at Netherfield in those days.”
“And we intend to revive the tradition, sir,” Thomas replied, smiling at Elizabeth, who had become more perplexed than ever.
His use of the word we surprised her. She looked at him expectantly, and her searching glance was met by an amused nod.
“Yes, my dear. I may now tell you that Mr Oswald has agreed to sell the estate. Mr Phillips shall attend to the legal matters, but Mr Oswald has kindly given us the key today.”
That us only deepened Elizabeth’s confusion.
Netherfield was a magnificent house, perfectly furnished and surrounded by beautiful grounds.
She had never considered it from such a perspective before, but it must cost an enormous sum.
The family had viewed Uncle Thomas’s arrival almost as a charitable arrangement, imagining they were providing him comfort in old age.
Yet suddenly the entire situation appeared reversed.
To purchase Netherfield required immense means.
“I never claimed to be poor,” Thomas Bennet said with comic solemnity as soon as Mr Oswald had left.
But the remark explained nothing.
“Have patience, my dear. You shall hear the whole story at dinner, though in truth you already know most of it.”