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Title: Pride and Prejudice
Author: Jane Austen
Release Date: June, 1998 [eBook #1342]
[Most recently updated: August 23, 2021]
Language: English
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START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

Pride and Prejudice

By Jane Austen

Contents

Chapter 1

  It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of       a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.     <br />      However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his       first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds       of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property       of some one or other of their daughters.     <br />      “My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that       Netherfield Park is let at last?”      <br />      Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.     <br />      “But it is,” returned she; “for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told       me all about it.”      <br />      Mr. Bennet made no answer.     <br />      “Do not you want to know who has taken it?” cried his wife impatiently.     <br />      “_You_ want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.”      <br />      This was invitation enough.     <br />      “Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by       a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down       on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much delighted       with it that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take       possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the       house by the end of next week.”      <br />      “What is his name?”      <br />      “Bingley.”      <br />      “Is he married or single?”      <br />      “Oh! single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or       five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!”      <br />      “How so? how can it affect them?”      <br />      “My dear Mr. Bennet,” replied his wife, “how can you be so tiresome! You       must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.”      <br />      “Is that his design in settling here?”      <br />      “Design! nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he _may_      fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as       he comes.”      <br />      “I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send       them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are as       handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley might like you the best of the party.”      <br />      “My dear, you flatter me. I certainly _have_ had my share of beauty,       but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has       five grown-up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own       beauty.”      <br />      “In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of.”      <br />      “But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into       the neighbourhood.”      <br />      “It is more than I engage for, I assure you.”      <br />      “But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would be       for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go, merely       on that account, for in general, you know, they visit no newcomers. Indeed       you must go, for it will be impossible for _us_ to visit him, if you       do not.”      <br />      “You are over scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very glad       to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty       consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls; though I must       throw in a good word for my little Lizzy.”      <br />      “I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the       others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so       good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving _her_ the       preference.”      <br />      “They have none of them much to recommend them,” replied he; “they are all       silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of       quickness than her sisters.”      <br />      “Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You       take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves.”      <br />      “You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are       my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these       twenty years at least.”      <br />      “Ah, you do not know what I suffer.”      <br />      “But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four       thousand a year come into the neighbourhood.”      <br />      “It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not       visit them.”      <br />      “Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them       all.”      <br />      Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve,       and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been       insufficient to make his wife understand his character. _Her_ mind       was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding,       little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she       fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters       married; its solace was visiting and news.     

Chapter 2

  Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He       had always intended to visit him, though to the last always assuring his       wife that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit was paid       she had no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in the following manner.       Observing his second daughter employed in trimming a hat, he suddenly       addressed her with,     <br />      “I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy.”      <br />      “We are not in a way to know _what_ Mr. Bingley likes,” said her       mother resentfully, “since we are not to visit.”      <br />      “But you forget, mamma,” said Elizabeth, “that we shall meet him at the       assemblies, and that Mrs. Long has promised to introduce him.”      <br />      “I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces of       her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion of       her.”      <br />      “No more have I,” said Mr. Bennet; “and I am glad to find that you do not       depend on her serving you.”      <br />      Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply; but, unable to contain herself,       began scolding one of her daughters.     <br />      “Don’t keep coughing so, Kitty, for heaven’s sake! Have a little       compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces.”      <br />      “Kitty has no discretion in her coughs,” said her father; “she times them       ill.”      <br />      “I do not cough for my own amusement,” replied Kitty fretfully. “When is       your next ball to be, Lizzy?”      <br />      “To-morrow fortnight.”      <br />      “Aye, so it is,” cried her mother, “and Mrs. Long does not come back till       the day before; so, it will be impossible for her to introduce him, for she       will not know him herself.”      <br />      “Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and introduce       Mr. Bingley to _her_.”      <br />      “Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with him       myself; how can you be so teasing?”      <br />      “I honour your circumspection. A fortnight’s acquaintance is certainly       very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a       fortnight. But if _we_ do not venture somebody else will; and after       all, Mrs. Long and her nieces must stand their chance; and, therefore,       as she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I will       take it on myself.”      <br />      The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only, “Nonsense,       nonsense!”      <br />      “What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?” cried he. “Do you       consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on them,       as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you _there_. What say you,       Mary? for you are a young lady of deep reflection, I know, and read great       books and make extracts.”      <br />      Mary wished to say something very sensible, but knew not how.     <br />      “While Mary is adjusting her ideas,” he continued, “let us return to Mr.       Bingley.”      <br />      “I am sick of Mr. Bingley,” cried his wife.     <br />      “I am sorry to hear _that_; but why did not you tell me so before?       If I had known as much this morning, I certainly would not have called on       him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit, we cannot       escape the acquaintance now.”      <br />      The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished; that of Mrs.       Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though when the first tumult of joy       was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the       while.     <br />      “How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should persuade       you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to neglect such an       acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it is such a good joke, too,       that you should have gone this morning, and never said a word about it till       now.”      <br />      “Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose,” said Mr. Bennet; and,       as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife.     <br />      “What an excellent father you have, girls,” said she, when the door was       shut. “I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness;       or me either, for that matter. At our time of life, it is not so pleasant,       I can tell you, to be making new acquaintance every day; but for your       sakes, we would do anything. Lydia, my love, though you _are_ the       youngest, I dare say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next ball.”      <br />      “Oh!” said Lydia stoutly, “I am not afraid; for though I _am_ the       youngest, I’m the tallest.”      <br />      The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he would return       Mr. Bennet’s visit, and determining when they should ask him to dinner.     

Chapter 3

  Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five       daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from her       husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley. They attacked him in       various ways; with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and       distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all; and they were at       last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour,       Lady Lucas. Her report was highly favourable. Sir William had been       delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely       agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly       with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of       dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively hopes       of Mr. Bingley’s heart were entertained.     <br />      “If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield,”        said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, “and all the others equally well married,       I shall have nothing to wish for.”      <br />      In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet’s visit, and sat about ten       minutes with him in his library. He had entertained hopes of being       admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had heard       much; but he saw only the father. The ladies were somewhat more fortunate,       for they had the advantage of ascertaining from an upper window, that he       wore a blue coat and rode a black horse.     <br />      An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and already had       Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to her       housekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley       was obliged to be in town the following day, and consequently unable to       accept the honour of their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite       disconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in town so       soon after his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that he       might be always flying about from one place to another, and never settled       at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears a little by       starting the idea of his being gone to London only to get a large party       for the ball; and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingley was to bring       twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the assembly. The girls       grieved over such a number of ladies; but were comforted the day before       the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve, he had brought only six with him       from London, his five sisters and a cousin. And when the party       entered the assembly room it consisted of only five altogether; Mr.       Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and another young       man.     <br />      Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant       countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women,       with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely       looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention of       the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and the       report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his       entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. The gentlemen pronounced him       to be a fine figure of a man, the ladies declared he was much handsomer       than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great admiration for about       half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust which turned the tide of       his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud, to be above his       company, and above being pleased; and not all his large estate in       Derbyshire could then save him from having a most forbidding, disagreeable       countenance, and being unworthy to be compared with his friend.     <br />      Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal people       in the room; he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance, was angry       that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving one himself at       Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves. What a       contrast between him and his friend! Mr. Darcy danced only once with Mrs.       Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any other       lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room,       speaking occasionally to one of his own party. His character was decided.       He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world, and everybody       hoped that he would never come there again. Amongst the most violent       against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his general behaviour was       sharpened into particular resentment by his having slighted one of her       daughters.     <br />      Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit       down for two dances; and during part of that time, Mr. Darcy had been       standing near enough for her to overhear a conversation between him and Mr.       Bingley, who came from the dance for a few minutes, to press his friend to       join it.     <br />      “Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing       about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”      <br />      “I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly       acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be       insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in       the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”      <br />      “I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a       kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my       life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see       uncommonly pretty.”      <br />      “_You_ are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr.       Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.     <br />      “Oh! she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of       her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare       say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”      <br />      “Which do you mean?” and turning round, he looked for a moment at       Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said,       “She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt _me_; and I am in no       humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by       other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for       you are wasting your time with me.”      <br />      Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth       remained with no very cordial feelings towards him. She told the story,       however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively,       playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.     <br />      The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs.       Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the Netherfield party.       Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, and she had been distinguished by       his sisters. Jane was as much gratified by this as her mother could be,       though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane’s pleasure. Mary had heard       herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most accomplished girl in the       neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been fortunate enough to       be never without partners, which was all that they had yet learnt to care for at       a ball. They returned, therefore, in good spirits to Longbourn, the       village where they lived, and of which they were the principal       inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet still up. With a book he was regardless       of time; and on the present occasion he had a good deal of curiosity as to       the event of an evening which had raised such splendid expectations. He       had rather hoped that all his wife’s views on the stranger would be       disappointed; but he soon found that he had a very different story to hear.     <br />      “Oh, my dear Mr. Bennet,” as she entered the room, “we have had a most       delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been there. Jane       was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well she       looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and danced with her       twice. Only think of _that_, my dear; he actually danced with her       twice; and she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second       time. First of all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him stand       up with her; but, however, he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobody       can, you know; and he seemed quite struck with Jane as she was going down       the dance. So he enquired who she was, and got introduced, and asked her       for the two next. Then, the two third he danced with Miss King, and the two       fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane again, and the two       sixth with Lizzy, and the _Boulanger_—”      <br />      “If he had had any compassion for _me_,” cried her husband       impatiently, “he would not have danced half so much! For God’s sake, say       no more of his partners. Oh that he had sprained his ankle in the first       dance!”      <br />      “Oh! my dear,” continued Mrs. Bennet, “I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively       handsome! and his sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw       anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs.       Hurst’s gown—”      <br />      Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any       description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch of       the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit and some       exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy.     <br />      “But I can assure you,” she added, “that Lizzy does not lose much by not       suiting _his_ fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not       at all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there was no enduring       him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very great!       Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there, my dear, to       have given him one of your set-downs. I quite detest the man.”      

Chapter 4

  When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in       her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister how very       much she admired him.     <br />      “He is just what a young man ought to be,” said she, “sensible,       good-humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!—so much       ease, with such perfect good breeding!”      <br />      “He is also handsome,” replied Elizabeth, “which a young man ought       likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete.”      <br />      “I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did       not expect such a compliment.”      <br />      “Did not you? _I_ did for you. But that is one great difference between us.       Compliments always take _you_ by surprise, and _me_ never. What       could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help seeing       that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in the room.       No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is very agreeable,       and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person.”      <br />      “Dear Lizzy!”      <br />      “Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general.       You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable in       your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in my life.”      <br />      “I would wish not to be hasty in censuring any one; but I always speak what       I think.”      <br />      “I know you do; and it is _that_ which makes the wonder. With _your_      good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others!       Affectation of candour is common enough;—one meets with it       everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design—to take       the good of everybody’s character and make it still better, and say       nothing of the bad—belongs to you alone. And so, you like this man’s       sisters, too, do you? Their manners are not equal to his.”      <br />      “Certainly not; at first. But they are very pleasing women when you       converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother, and keep his       house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming       neighbour in her.”      <br />      Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced; their behaviour at       the assembly had not been calculated to please in general; and with more       quickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her sister, and       with a judgment too unassailed by any attention to herself, she was very       little disposed to approve them. They were in fact very fine ladies; not       deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in the power of       being agreeable where they chose it; but proud and conceited.       They were rather handsome, had been educated in one of the first private       seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty thousand pounds, were in the       habit of spending more than they ought, and of associating with people of       rank; and were therefore in every respect entitled to think well of       themselves, and meanly of others. They were of a respectable family in the       north of England; a circumstance more deeply impressed on their memories       than that their brother’s fortune and their own had been acquired by       trade.     <br />      Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred thousand       pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an estate, but did       not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it likewise, and sometimes made       choice of his county; but as he was now provided with a good house and the       liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of those who best knew the       easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the remainder of his       days at Netherfield, and leave the next generation to purchase.     <br />      His sisters were very anxious for his having an estate of his own; but though       he was now established only as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by no means       unwilling to preside at his table, nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had       married a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to consider his       house as her home when it suited her. Mr. Bingley had not been of age two       years, when he was tempted by an accidental recommendation to look at       Netherfield House. He did look at it, and into it for half an hour, was       pleased with the situation and the principal rooms, satisfied with what       the owner said in its praise, and took it immediately.     <br />      Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of       great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the       easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper, though no disposition       could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he       never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy’s regard Bingley       had the firmest reliance, and of his judgment the highest opinion. In       understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley was by no means deficient,       but Darcy was clever. He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and       fastidious, and his manners, though well bred, were not inviting. In that       respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley was sure of being       liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually giving offence.     <br />      The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently       characteristic. Bingley had never met with pleasanter people or       prettier girls in his life; everybody had been most kind and attentive to       him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt       acquainted with all the room; and as to Miss Bennet, he could not       conceive an angel more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a       collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for       none of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and from none received       either attention or pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty,       but she smiled too much.     <br />      Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so—but still they admired       her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom       they should not object to know more of. Miss Bennet was therefore       established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authorised by such       commendation to think of her as he chose.     

Chapter 5

  Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets were       particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade in       Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the honour of       knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty. The distinction       had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a disgust to his       business and to his residence in a small market town; and, quitting       them both, he had removed with his family to a house about a mile from       Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, where he could think       with pleasure of his own importance, and, unshackled by business, occupy       himself solely in being civil to all the world. For, though elated by his       rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the contrary, he was all       attention to everybody. By nature inoffensive, friendly, and obliging, his       presentation at St. James’s had made him courteous.     <br />      Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a valuable       neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The eldest of them, a       sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was Elizabeth’s       intimate friend.     <br />      That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a ball       was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly brought the       former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.     <br />      “_You_ began the evening well, Charlotte,” said Mrs. Bennet with       civil self-command to Miss Lucas. “_You_ were Mr. Bingley’s first       choice.”      <br />      “Yes; but he seemed to like his second better.”      <br />      “Oh! you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be       sure that _did_ seem as if he admired her—indeed I rather       believe he _did_—I heard something about it—but I hardly       know what—something about Mr. Robinson.”      <br />      “Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did not I       mention it to you? Mr. Robinson’s asking him how he liked our Meryton       assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many pretty       women in the room, and _which_ he thought the prettiest? and his       answering immediately to the last question—‘Oh! the eldest Miss Bennet,       beyond a doubt, there cannot be two opinions on that point.’”      <br />      “Upon my word! Well, that was very decided indeed—that does seem as       if—but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know.”      <br />      “_My_ overhearings were more to the purpose than _yours_,       Eliza,” said Charlotte. “Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as       his friend, is he?—Poor Eliza!—to be only just _tolerable_.”      <br />      “I beg you would not put it into Lizzy’s head to be vexed by his       ill-treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man that it would be quite a       misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night that he sat       close to her for half an hour without once opening his lips.”      <br />      “Are you quite sure, ma’am?—is not there a little mistake?” said       Jane. “I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her.”      <br />      “Aye—because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he       could not help answering her; but she said he seemed very angry at being       spoke to.”      <br />      “Miss Bingley told me,” said Jane, “that he never speaks much unless       among his intimate acquaintance. With _them_ he is remarkably       agreeable.”      <br />      “I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very agreeable,       he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it was; everybody       says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare say he had heard somehow       that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and had come to the ball in a       hack chaise.”      <br />      “I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long,” said Miss Lucas, “but I wish       he had danced with Eliza.”      <br />      “Another time, Lizzy,” said her mother, “I would not dance with _him_,       if I were you.”      <br />      “I believe, ma’am, I may safely promise you _never_ to dance with       him.”      <br />      “His pride,” said Miss Lucas, “does not offend _me_ so much as pride       often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so       very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour,       should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a _right_      to be proud.”      <br />      “That is very true,” replied Elizabeth, “and I could easily forgive _his_      pride, if he had not mortified _mine_.”      <br />      “Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her       reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever       read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human nature is       particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not       cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or       other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though       the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being       vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we       would have others think of us.”      <br />      “If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who came with his       sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of       foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine every day.”      <br />      “Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought,” said Mrs. Bennet;       “and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle directly.”      <br />      The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she       would, and the argument ended only with the visit.     

Chapter 6

  The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit was       returned in due form. Miss Bennet’s pleasing manners grew on the       goodwill of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was found       to be intolerable, and the younger sisters not worth speaking to, a wish       of being better acquainted with _them_ was expressed towards the two       eldest. By Jane this attention was received with the greatest pleasure;       but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment of everybody,       hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them; though their       kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value as arising in all       probability from the influence of their brother’s admiration. It was       generally evident whenever they met, that he _did_ admire her; and to       _her_ it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference       which she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a way       to be very much in love; but she considered with pleasure that it was not       likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane united with       great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and a uniform       cheerfulness of manner which would guard her from the suspicions of the       impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Miss Lucas.     <br />      “It may perhaps be pleasant,” replied Charlotte, “to be able to impose on       the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be so       very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from       the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will       then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark.       There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that       it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all _begin_ freely—a       slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have       heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out       of ten, a woman had better show _more_ affection than she feels.       Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like       her, if she does not help him on.”      <br />      “But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If       _I_ can perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton indeed       not to discover it too.”      <br />      “Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane’s disposition as you do.”      <br />      “But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal it,       he must find it out.”      <br />      “Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But though Bingley and Jane       meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and as they       always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that every       moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should therefore       make the most of every half-hour in which she can command his attention.       When she is secure of him, there will be leisure for falling in love       as much as she chooses.”      <br />      “Your plan is a good one,” replied Elizabeth, “where nothing is in       question but the desire of being well married; and if I were determined to       get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare say I should adopt it. But       these are not Jane’s feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet, she       cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard, nor of its       reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced four dances       with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house, and has       since dined in company with him four times. This is not quite enough to       make her understand his character.”      <br />      “Not as you represent it. Had she merely _dined_ with him, she might       only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must remember       that four evenings have been also spent together—and four evenings       may do a great deal.”      <br />      “Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they both       like Vingt-un better than Commerce; but with respect to any other leading       characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been unfolded.”      <br />      “Well,” said Charlotte, “I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if she       were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a chance of       happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a twelvemonth.       Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions       of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar       beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always       continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of       vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of       the person with whom you are to pass your life.”      <br />      “You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not       sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself.”      <br />      Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley’s attentions to her sister, Elizabeth       was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some       interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely       allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the       ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no       sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly       a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered       uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To       this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had       detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in       her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and       pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those of       the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this       she was perfectly unaware;—to her he was only the man who made himself       agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance       with.     <br />      He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing       with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so       drew her notice. It was at Sir William Lucas’s, where a large party were       assembled.     <br />      “What does Mr. Darcy mean,” said she to Charlotte, “by listening to my       conversation with Colonel Forster?”      <br />      “That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer.”      <br />      “But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I see what       he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being       impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him.”      <br />      On his approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming to have       any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas defied her friend to mention such a       subject to him, which immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she turned       to him and said,     <br />      “Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well       just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at       Meryton?”      <br />      “With great energy; but it is a subject which always makes a lady       energetic.”      <br />      “You are severe on us.”      <br />      “It will be _her_ turn soon to be teased,” said Miss Lucas. “I am       going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows.”      <br />      “You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!—always wanting       me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a       musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would really       rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the       very best performers.” On Miss Lucas’s persevering, however, she added,       “Very well; if it must be so, it must.” And gravely glancing at Mr. Darcy,       “There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of course familiar       with—‘Keep your breath to cool your porridge,’—and I shall keep mine to       swell my song.”      <br />      Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song or       two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that she       would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her       sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in the       family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always       impatient for display.     <br />      Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her       application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited       manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she       had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with       much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the end       of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by Scotch       and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who with some of       the Lucases, and two or three officers, joined eagerly in dancing at one       end of the room.     <br />      Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of passing       the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too much       engrossed by his own thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas was his       neighbour, till Sir William thus began.     <br />      “What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is       nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first       refinements of polished societies.”      <br />      “Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst       the less polished societies of the world.—Every savage can dance.”      <br />      Sir William only smiled. “Your friend performs delightfully,” he continued       after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group; “and I doubt not that you       are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy.”      <br />      “You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir.”      <br />      “Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do       you often dance at St. James’s?”      <br />      “Never, sir.”      <br />      “Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?”      <br />      “It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it.”      <br />      “You have a house in town, I conclude?”      <br />      Mr. Darcy bowed.     <br />      “I had once some thoughts of fixing in town myself—for I am fond       of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of       London would agree with Lady Lucas.”      <br />      He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed to       make any; and Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was struck       with the notion of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to her,     <br />      “My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me       to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot       refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you.” And, taking       her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy, who, though extremely       surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back,       and said with some discomposure to Sir William,     <br />      “Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not       to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.”      <br />      Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honour of her       hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at all       shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.     <br />      “You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me       the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the       amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us       for one half-hour.”      <br />      “Mr. Darcy is all politeness,” said Elizabeth, smiling.     <br />      “He is, indeed—but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we       cannot wonder at his complaisance; for who would object to such a       partner?”      <br />      Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not injured       her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some complacency,       when thus accosted by Miss Bingley,     <br />      “I can guess the subject of your reverie.”      <br />      “I should imagine not.”      <br />      “You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings       in this manner—in such society; and indeed I am quite of your       opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise; the       nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all these people! What would I       give to hear your strictures on them!”      <br />      “Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more       agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which       a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”      <br />      Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would       tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr. Darcy       replied with great intrepidity,     <br />      “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”      <br />      “Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley. “I am all astonishment.       How long has she been such a favourite?—and pray when am I to wish       you joy?”      <br />      “That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady’s       imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to       matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy.”      <br />      “Nay, if you are so serious about it, I shall consider the matter as       absolutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed,       and of course she will be always at Pemberley with you.”      <br />      He listened to her with perfect indifference, while she chose to entertain       herself in this manner; and as his composure convinced her that all was       safe, her wit flowed long.     

Chapter 7

  Mr. Bennet’s property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two       thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed, in       default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their mother’s fortune,       though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply the       deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and had       left her four thousand pounds.     <br />      She had a sister married to a Mr. Phillips, who had been a clerk to their       father, and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in London       in a respectable line of trade.     <br />      The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most convenient       distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted thither three or       four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and to a milliner’s       shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family, Catherine and       Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions; their minds were       more vacant than their sisters’, and when nothing better offered, a walk       to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning hours and furnish       conversation for the evening; and however bare of news the country in       general might be, they always contrived to learn some from their aunt. At       present, indeed, they were well supplied both with news and happiness by       the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood; it was to       remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the headquarters.     <br />      Their visits to Mrs. Philips were now productive of the most interesting       intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the       officers’ names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a secret,       and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. Philips       visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a source of felicity       unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley’s       large fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their mother, was       worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.     <br />      After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr. Bennet       coolly observed,     <br />      “From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two of       the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but I am       now convinced.”      <br />      Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect       indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, and       her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the next       morning to London.     <br />      “I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that you should be so ready       to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly of       anybody’s children, it should not be of my own, however.”      <br />      “If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it.”      <br />      “Yes—but as it happens, they are all of them very clever.”      <br />      “This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I had       hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must so far       differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly       foolish.”      <br />      “My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of       their father and mother. When they get to our age, I dare say they will       not think about officers any more than we do. I remember the time when I       liked a red coat myself very well—and, indeed, so I do still at my       heart; and if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year,       should want one of my girls, I shall not say nay to him; and I thought       Colonel Forster looked very becoming the other night at Sir William’s in       his regimentals.”      <br />      “Mamma,” cried Lydia, “my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain       Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson’s as they did when they first       came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke’s library.”      <br />      Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman with a       note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the servant waited for       an answer. Mrs. Bennet’s eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly       calling out, while her daughter read,     <br />      “Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say? Well,       Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love.”      <br />      “It is from Miss Bingley,” said Jane, and then read it aloud.     <br />      “MY DEAR FRIEND,—<br />      “If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, we       shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a       whole day’s _tête-à-tête_ between two women can never end without a quarrel.       Come as soon as you can on the receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen       are to dine with the officers.—Yours ever,     <br />      “CAROLINE BINGLEY”      <br />      “With the officers!” cried Lydia. “I wonder my aunt did not tell us of _that_.”      <br />      “Dining out,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that is very unlucky.”      <br />      “Can I have the carriage?” said Jane.     <br />      “No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to       rain; and then you must stay all night.”      <br />      “That would be a good scheme,” said Elizabeth, “if you were sure that they       would not offer to send her home.”      <br />      “Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley’s chaise to go to Meryton;       and the Hursts have no horses to theirs.”      <br />      “I had much rather go in the coach.”      <br />      “But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are       wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are not they?”      <br />      “They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them.”      <br />      “But if you have got them to-day,” said Elizabeth, “my mother’s purpose       will be answered.”      <br />      She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses       were engaged. Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her       mother attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a bad       day. Her hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long before it rained       hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was delighted. The       rain continued the whole evening without intermission; Jane certainly       could not come back.     <br />      “This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!” said Mrs. Bennet, more than once,       as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the next       morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her       contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield       brought the following note for Elizabeth:     <br />      “MY DEAREST LIZZY,—<br />      “I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be       imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not hear       of my returning home till I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr. Jones—therefore       do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been to me—and,       excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the matter with       me.—Yours, &c.”      <br />      “Well, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note aloud,       “if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness—if she       should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of       Mr. Bingley, and under your orders.”      <br />      “Oh! I am not at all afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling       colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, it is       all very well. I would go and see her if I could have the carriage.”      <br />      Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though the       carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman, walking was her       only alternative. She declared her resolution.     <br />      “How can you be so silly,” cried her mother, “as to think of such a thing,       in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get there.”      <br />      “I shall be very fit to see Jane—which is all I want.”      <br />      “Is this a hint to me, Lizzy,” said her father, “to send for the horses?”      <br />      “No, indeed. I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing, when       one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner.”      <br />      “I admire the activity of your benevolence,” observed Mary, “but every       impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion,       exertion should always be in proportion to what is required.”      <br />      “We will go as far as Meryton with you,” said Catherine and Lydia.       Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off       together.     <br />      “If we make haste,” said Lydia, as they walked along, “perhaps we may see       something of Captain Carter before he goes.”      <br />      In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one       of the officers’ wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing       field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing over       puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last within view       of the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with       the warmth of exercise.     <br />      She was shown into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane were       assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of surprise. That       she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in such dirty       weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst and Miss       Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that they held her in contempt for       it. She was received, however, very politely by them; and in their       brother’s manners there was something better than politeness; there was       good humour and kindness. Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr. Hurst       nothing at all. The former was divided between admiration of the       brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the       occasion’s justifying her coming so far alone. The latter was thinking       only of his breakfast.     <br />      Her enquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss       Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not well       enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her       immediately; and Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving       alarm or inconvenience, from expressing in her note how much she longed for       such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal, however,       to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them together, could       attempt little beside expressions of gratitude for the extraordinary       kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended her.     <br />      When breakfast was over, they were joined by the sisters; and Elizabeth       began to like them herself, when she saw how much affection and solicitude       they showed for Jane. The apothecary came, and having examined his       patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caught a violent cold,       and that they must endeavour to get the better of it; advised her to       return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice was followed       readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head ached acutely.       Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment, nor were the other ladies       often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had in fact nothing to do       elsewhere.     <br />      When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and very       unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only       wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane testified such concern in       parting with her, that Miss Bingley was obliged to convert the offer of       the chaise to an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the present.       Elizabeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to       Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay, and bring back a supply of       clothes.