Chapter Nine
Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in her sister's room, and in the morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the inquiries which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid, and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his sisters.
In spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her own judgment of her situation.
The note was immediately dispatched, and its contents as quickly complied with.
Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast.
Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have been very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her restoration to health would probably remove her from Netherfield.
She would not listen therefore to her daughter's proposal of being carried home; neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think it at all advisable.
"She was never ill a day in her life at home," Mrs. Bennet observed with satisfaction, as though this were an argument for staying.
"Never. Not with the measles, when the other four had it together and I was up eleven nights.
It is a very odd thing, is it not, that she should be taken so bad the moment she is out of the house? "
"It is very odd," said Mr. Darcy.
"Well, and there it is. Country air, I dare say, and the rain."
"Netherfield is one mile from Longbourn, madam."
"Exactly so! And such a difference! It is a great deal healthier here, I am sure, being higher up, or lower down, whichever it is—" and Mrs. Bennet went on to something else, and Mr. Darcy stood quite still by the window for some little while afterwards.
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After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss Bingley's appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters all attended her into the breakfast parlor. Bingley met them with hopes that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected.
"Indeed I have, sir," was her answer. "She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness."
"Removed!" cried Bingley. "It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal."
"You may depend upon it, Madam," said Miss Bingley, with cold civility, "that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she remains with us."
Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.
"I am sure," she added, "if it was not for such good friends I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I ever met with.
I often tell my other girls they are nothing to her.
You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming prospect over that gravel walk.
I do not know a place in the country that is equal to Netherfield.
You will not think of quitting it in a hurry I hope, though you have but a short lease. "
"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied he; "and therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here."
"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said Elizabeth.
"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried he, turning toward her.
"Oh! yes — I understand you perfectly."
"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful."
"That is as it happens. It does not necessarily follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours."
"Lizzy," cried her mother, "remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home."
"I did not know before," continued Bingley immediately, "that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study."
"Yes; but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage."
"The country," said Darcy, "can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighborhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society."
"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever."
"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning a country neighborhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town."
Every body was surprised; and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete victory over him, continued her triumph.
"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is not it, Mr. Bingley?"
"When I am in the country," he replied, "I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."
"Aye — that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman," looking at Darcy, "seemed to think the country was nothing at all."
"Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there was not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in town, which you must acknowledge to be true."
"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with many people in this neighborhood, I believe there are few neighborhoods larger. I know we dine with four and twenty families."
Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his countenance.
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"But I will say this for us," Mrs. Bennet went on, warming, "and it is a thing not every county can say.
There is not a ward in the parish that has wanted mending in my lifetime.
Not one. Not the assembly rooms, nor the church, nor Longbourn itself — my husband's people have held that ground four hundred years and I do not believe a single soul has ever had to lay so much as a thread across the threshold.
Now that is what I call a healthy country.
Some of these grand old places in the north, I am told, are for ever having men in. "
"Are they," said Mr. Darcy.
"So I am told. Very expensive, and a great deal of dirt."
"Mama," said Elizabeth.
"Well, and it is true! Mrs. Long says the same. Nothing ever wants doing here. Nothing ever has."
Mr. Darcy said, in a voice that was perfectly level, "That is a very remarkable thing for a county to be able to say, madam. I do not think I have ever heard it said of anywhere else in England."
"There!" said Mrs. Bennet, delighted at last to have said something that a man of ten thousand a year approved.
Miss Bingley smiled, and looked at Mr. Darcy, and found to her considerable annoyance that he was not sharing the joke with her, and had in fact set down his cup, and was standing very still, in the way she had learned in four years meant that he was doing arithmetic.
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"Charlotte Lucas was here all day yesterday," Mrs. Bennet said presently, having got at last to the subject of the Lucases, which she reached by every road.
"Her father called on me. Such an agreeable man, Sir William!
— so much the fine gentleman! He has always something to say to every body.
— That is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves very important and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter. "
"Did Charlotte dine with you?"
"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince pies.
For my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work; my daughters are brought up differently.
But every body is to judge for themselves, and the Lucases are a very good sort of girls, I assure you.
It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think Charlotte so very plain — but then she is our particular friend. "
"She seems a very pleasant young woman," said Bingley.
"Oh! dear, yes; — but you must own she is very plain.
Lady Lucas herself has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty.
I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, Jane — one does not often see any body better looking.
It is what every body says. When she was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my brother Gardiner's in town, so much in love with her, that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away.
But however he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young.
However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were. "
"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"
"I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said Darcy.
"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Every thing nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."
Darcy only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again.
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She longed to speak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short silence Mrs. Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy.
Mr. Bingley was unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be civil also, and say what the occasion required.
She performed her part indeed without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and soon afterwards ordered her carriage.
Upon this signal, the youngest of her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming into the country to give a ball at Netherfield.
Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion and good-humored countenance; a favorite with her mother, whose affection had brought her into public at an early age.
She had high animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the attentions of the officers, to whom her uncle's good dinners and her own easy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance.
She was very equal, therefore, to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball, and abruptly reminded him of his promise; adding, that it would be the most shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this sudden attack was delightful to their mother's ear.
"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and when your sister is recovered, you shall if you please name the very day of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing while she is ill."
Lydia declared herself satisfied. "Oh! yes — it would be much better to wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter would be at Meryton again.
And when you have given your ball," she added, "I shall insist on their giving one also.
I shall tell Colonel Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not. "
Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations' behavior to the remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however, could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of her, in spite of all Miss Bingley's witticisms on fine eyes.
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That night Mr. Bingley, very happy, spoke to his friend of the ball, and of the number of couples, and of whether the small drawing-room should be given up to cards.
"Charles," said Darcy. "Who has the keeping of the ward on your ballroom?"
Bingley laughed. "The ward! I have no notion. Morris, I suppose, or whoever had the place before. Does a ballroom want a ward? We shall have a hundred people and a fiddler."
"You will have a hundred people," said Darcy, "of eleven or twelve lines, in one room, for six hours, in a house that stands half a mile from a field which has nothing whatever under it."
"Which has — what?"
"I shall see to the ward myself," said Darcy, "if you will permit me. It will take an afternoon and I would rather do it than not."
Bingley, who had spent four years discovering that his friend was never grave about small things and never explained himself about large ones, said that he might do as he liked and welcome, and returned with enthusiasm to the question of the cards; and Mr. Darcy sat looking into the fire, and thinking of a woman who had told him, with great pride and perfect accuracy, that in four hundred years nothing in that county had ever needed mending.
Ground that never needs mending is not sound ground.
It is ground that nobody has ever been able to reach.