Chapter 17 #2
Before Mary or Charlotte could reply, she raced on with her account.
It appeared that as the previous dance began, she had had no partner—“that may be said to have been the first of my misfortunes”—and was compelled to sit and watch the proceedings from a seat some rows back from the dance floor.
She had been there only a few minutes when she noticed Mr. Bingley and his tall friend approach and stand before her.
She had not meant to listen to their conversation, “but really, they spoke so decidedly that it was impossible to ignore.” Thus, willingly or not, she had heard Mr. Bingley berating Mr. Darcy for his reluctance to dance.
The room, he insisted, was full of charming women, any one of whom would be delighted to stand up with him.
Why did he not ask some fortunate girl to be his partner?
It did not reflect well on him to hold himself so aloof; it made no sense to march about the room with such an obvious determination not to be pleased.
“I could not wait to hear how he would answer such a very justified rebuke,” continued Elizabeth.
“But he was not in the least mortified, replying with some warmth that Mr. Bingley had danced with the only handsome girl in the room, by which he meant Jane, of course. But his friend was not prepared to surrender his point so easily. Whilst he agreed that Jane was indeed ‘the most beautiful creature he ever beheld’—and please note, those were his actual words—he persevered, with perhaps more gallantry than tact. What about her sister, he asked? She is pretty enough and not engaged. Should he like to be introduced to me?”
Lizzy paused for a moment to take a breath.
“And then this proud man—I think we all now know his name is Darcy—turns and looks me straight in the eye and says—and I will do him the justice to believe he didn’t think I could hear him—‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me’!”
She turned from Mary to Charlotte, laughing. “What do you think? Is that not the most extraordinary thing you have heard?”
“Well, it is justly said that listeners never hear good of themselves,” said Mary.
“If that is the case, then I have certainly been properly punished,” declared Elizabeth. “‘Tolerable,’ indeed! Was there ever such a milk-and-water insult as that! ‘Not handsome enough to tempt me’—as though we women have no other occupation than to lay ourselves out to be agreeable to him!”
“It does suggest a good deal of presumption on his part,” mused Charlotte.
“Yes, but I am glad of it, for it has enabled me to decide my opinion of him. I was not sure what to think at first when I heard him so complained of for his coldness and his want of common courtesy, for by then I had only seen his bad behaviour; but now that I have heard for myself that he is just as disagreeable as he appears to be, I shall have no hesitation in condemning him out of hand!”
Charlotte smiled consolingly.
“I am sorry you have been so disappointed in your new acquaintance, Lizzy. But it does not look as though his indifference has pierced your heart very deeply.”
“No, I dare say I shall survive it.” Lizzy stood up and surveyed the room.
“I only regret that I’m unlikely to have the opportunity of paying him back in kind.
I really would delight in seeing his pride somewhat humbled—but I don’t think our paths will cross again.
And, as I’m sure Mary would agree, there is little point in hankering after what we cannot have, so I shan’t brood on the wrong done to me.
I will go instead in search of something to drink and a partner who I hope will have the good taste to find me more than merely ‘tolerable’—or will at least refrain from expressing any contrary opinion until he is well out of earshot. ”
“Lizzy will never be short of admirers,” observed Charlotte, as they watched her walk away. “She will always attract notice wherever she goes.”
“It is impossible to be indifferent to her,” agreed Mary. “When she’s in a room, you always know she’s there. Even when she says nothing at all, she looks as though she might, and that it is bound to be something witty.”
“Whereas you and I … Please do not take it ill of me if I say that I don’t think people wait with the same eagerness to hear what we say next. We do not sparkle as she does.”
Mary looked gloomily at the skirts of her colourless dress. Perhaps she should have worn the gold gown? If no-one else had noticed it, it might nevertheless have made her feel less insipid.
“No, I don’t suppose they do.”
They sat quietly, each contemplating the gulf of pleasure and possibility that lay between themselves and Elizabeth. Finally, Charlotte spoke, in a voice of quiet determination that Mary had not heard her use before.
“I’ll tell you a secret, Mary. I’ve made a promise to myself that I will not come to another of these balls as an unmarried woman. If I’m still single by this time next year, I intend to put on a cap and declare myself an old maid.”
“Really, Charlotte, what can you mean? I see that you’re in low spirits tonight, but that’s far too significant a step to be taken without very serious consideration. Have you discussed it with Lizzy?”
“Of course not, she would never understand. But I think you might. And I hope you will allow me to explain myself a little.”
“I am happy to listen if you wish me to do so.”
Charlotte stared into the distance, her expression unreadable.
“When I was about your age, I imagined marriage was a reward for good behaviour and patience. I thought that if I was good and obliging and did as I was told, it was inevitable that I should end up as someone’s wife.
If it didn’t happen this year, then surely it would in the next.
But I waited and waited and smiled and smiled, and yet here I am—a single woman still. ”
“And is that so terrible a fate?” ventured Mary. “When one looks at how some husbands and wives live together, it doesn’t seem as though marriage always brings happiness.”
“You cannot seriously think that the life of an old maid is to be preferred?” cried Charlotte with some vehemence.
“Think of the unmarried women of your acquaintance, living on whatever their families allow them, eking out their subsistence with a few piano lessons or a little discreet dressmaking, mocked and disdained by all. No, for an educated woman, brought up to be genteel as we have been, the future holds no prospect but marriage or misery, depend upon it.”
“But if that’s your opinion, why are you so willing to embrace a life you despise? To put on your cap, as you say, and abandon yourself to an existence you believe intolerable?”