Chapter 13
A few days after this visit, Mr. Bingley called
again, and alone. His friend had left him that morning for London,
but was to return home in ten days time. He sat with them above an
hour, and was in remarkably good spirits. Mrs. Bennet invited him
to dine with them; but, with many expressions of concern, he
confessed himself engaged elsewhere.
“Next time you call,” said she, “I hope we shall be
more lucky.”
He should be particularly happy at any time,
&c. &c.; and if she would give him leave, would take an
early opportunity of waiting on them.
“Can you come to-morrow?”
Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-morrow; and
her invitation was accepted with alacrity.
He came, and in such very good time, that the
ladies were none of them dressed. In ran Mrs. Bennet to her
daughter’s room, in her dressing-gown, and with her hair half
finished, crying out,—
“My dear Jane, make haste and hurry down. He is
come—Mr. Bingley is come. He is, indeed. Make haste, make haste.
Here, Sarah, come to Miss Bennet this moment, and help her on with
her gown. Never mind Miss Lizzy’s hair.”
“We will be down as soon as we can,” said Jane;
“but I dare say Kitty is forwarder than either of us, for she went
up stairs half an hour ago.”
“Oh! hang Kitty! what has she to do with it? Come,
be quick, be quick! where is your sash, my dear?”
But when her mother was gone, Jane would not be
prevailed on to go down without one of her sisters.
The same anxiety to get by themselves was visible
again in the evening. After tea, Mr. Bennet retired to the library,
as was his custom, and Mary went up stairs to her instrument. Two
obstacles of the five being thus removed, Mrs. Bennet sat looking
and winking at Elizabeth and Catherine for a considerable time,
without making any impression on them. Elizabeth would not observe
her; and when at last Kitty did, she very innocently said, “What is
the matter, mamma? What do you keep winking at me for? What am I to
do?”
“Nothing, child, nothing. I did not wink at you.”
She then sat still five minutes longer; but unable to waste such a
precious occasion, she suddenly got up, and saying to Kitty,—
“Come here, my love, I want to speak to you,” took
her out of the room. Jane instantly gave a look at Elizabeth which
spoke her distress at such premeditation, and her entreaty that
she would not give in to it. In a few minutes, Mrs. Bennet
half opened the door and called out,—
“Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you.”
Elizabeth was forced to go.
“We may as well leave them by themselves, you
know,” said her mother as soon as she was in the hall. “Kitty and I
are going up stairs to sit in my dressing-room.”
Elizabeth made no attempt to reason with her
mother, but remained quietly in the hall till she and Kitty were
out of sight, then returned into the drawing-room.
Mrs. Bennet’s schemes for this day were
ineffectual. Bingley was every thing that was charming, except the
professed lover of her daughter. His ease and cheerfulness rendered
him a most agreeable addition to their evening party; and he bore
with the ill-judged officiousness of the mother, and heard all her
silly remarks with a forbearance and command of countenance
particularly grateful to the daughter.
He scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper;
and before he went away, an engagement was formed, chiefly through
his own and Mrs. Bennet’s means, for his coming next morning to
shoot with her husband.
After this day, Jane said no more of her
indifference. Not a word passed between the sisters concerning
Bingley; but Elizabeth went to bed in the happy belief that all
must speedily be concluded, unless Mr. Darcy returned within the
stated time. Seriously, however, she felt tolerably persuaded that
all this must have taken place with that gentleman’s
concurrence.
Bingley was punctual to his appointment; and he and
Mr. Bennet spent the morning together, as had been agreed on. The
latter was much more agreeable than his companion expected. There
was nothing of presumption or folly in Bingley that could provoke
his ridicule, or disgust him into silence; and he was more
communicative, and less eccentric, than the other had ever seen
him. Bingley of course returned with him to dinner; and in the
evening Mrs. Bennet’s invention was again at work to get every body
away from him and her daughter. Elizabeth, who had a letter to
write, went into the breakfast-room for that purpose soon after
tea; for as the others were all going to sit down to cards, she
could not be wanted to counteract her mother’s schemes.
But on her returning to the drawing-room, when her
letter was finished, she saw, to her infinite surprise, there was
reason to fear that her mother had been too ingenious for her. On
opening the door, she perceived her sister and Bingley standing
together over the hearth, as if engaged in earnest conversation;
and had this led to no suspicion, the faces of both, as they
hastily turned round and moved away from each other, would have
told it all. Their situation was awkward enough; but
hers she thought was still worse. Not a syllable was uttered
by either; and Elizabeth was on the point of going away again, when
Bingley, who as well as the other had sat down, suddenly rose, and,
whispering a few words to her sister, ran out of the room.
Jane could have no reserves from Elizabeth, where
confidence would give pleasure; and instantly embracing her,
acknowledged, with the liveliest emotion, that she was the happiest
creature in the world.
“ ’Tis too much!” she added, “by far too much. I do
not deserve it. Oh, why is not every body as happy?”
Elizabeth’s congratulations were given with a
sincerity, a warmth, a delight, which words could but poorly
express. Every sentence of kindness was a fresh source of happiness
to Jane. But she would not allow herself to stay with her sister,
or say half that remained to be said, for the present.
“I must go instantly to my mother,” she cried. “I
would not on any account trifle with her affectionate solicitude,
or allow her to hear it from any one but myself. He is gone to my
father already. Oh, Lizzy, to know that what I have to relate will
give such pleasure to all my dear family! how shall I bear so much
happiness?”
She then hastened away to her mother, who had
purposely broken up the card party, and was sitting up stairs with
Kitty.
Elizabeth, who was left by herself, now smiled at
the rapidity and ease with which an affair was finally settled,
that had given them so many previous months of surprise and
vexation.
“And this,” said she, “is the end of all his
friend’s anxious circumspection! of all his sister’s falsehood and
contrivance! the happiest, wisest, and most reasonable end!”
In a few minutes she was joined by Bingley, whose
conference with her father had been short and to the purpose.
“Where is your sister?” said he hastily, as he
opened the door.
“With my mother up stairs. She will be down in a
moment, I dare say.”
He then shut the door, and, coming up to her,
claimed the good wishes and affection of a sister. Elizabeth
honestly and heartily expressed her delight in the prospect of
their relationship. They shook hands with great cordiality; and
then, till her sister came down, she had to listen to all he had to
say of his own happiness, and of Jane’s perfections; and in spite
of his being a lover, Elizabeth really believed all his
expectations of felicity to be rationally founded, because they had
for basis the excellent understanding, and super-excellent
disposition of Jane, and a general similarity of feeling and taste
between her and himself.
It was an evening of no common delight to them all;
the satisfaction of Miss Bennet’s mind gave such a glow of sweet
animation to her face, as made her look handsomer than ever. Kitty
simpered and smiled, and hoped her turn was coming soon. Mrs.
Bennet could not give her consent, or speak her approbation in
terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings, though she talked to
Bingley of nothing else, for half an hour; and when Mr. Bennet
joined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly showed how
really happy he was.
Not a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to
it, till their visitor took his leave for the night; but as soon as
he was gone, he turned to his daughter and said,—
“Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy
woman.”
Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked
him for his goodness.
“You are a good girl,” he replied, “and I have
great pleasure in thinking you will be so happily settled. I have
not a doubt of your doing very well together. Your tempers are by
no means unlike. You are each of you so complying, that nothing
will ever be resolved on; so easy, that every servant will cheat
you; and so generous, that you will always exceed your
income.”
“I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in
money matters would be unpardonable in me.”
“Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet,” cried
his wife, “what are you talking of? Why, he has four or five
thousand a year, and very likely more.” Then addressing her
daughter, “Oh, my dear, dear Jane, I am so happy! I am sure I
shan’t get a wink of sleep all night. I knew how it would be. I
always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not be so
beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when
he first came into Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely it
was that you should come together. Oh, he is the handsomest young
man that ever was seen!”
Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was beyond
competition her favourite child. At that moment she cared for no
other. Her younger sisters soon began to make interest with her for
objects of happiness which she might in future be able to
dispense.
Mary petitioned for the use of the library at
Netherfield; and Kitty begged very hard for a few balls there every
winter.
Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily
visitor at Longbourn; coming frequently before breakfast, and
always remaining till after supper; unless when some barbarous
neighbour, who could not be enough detested, had given him an
invitation to dinner, which he thought himself obliged to
accept.
Elizabeth had now but little time for conversation
with her sister; for while he was present Jane had no attention to
bestow on any one else: but she found herself considerably useful
to both of them, in those hours of separation that must sometimes
occur. In the absence of Jane, he always attached himself to
Elizabeth for the pleasure of talking of her; and when Bingley was
gone, Jane constantly sought the same means of relief.
“He has made me so happy,” said she, one evening,
“by telling me that he was totally ignorant of my being in town
last spring! I had not believed it possible.”
“I suspected as much,” replied Elizabeth. “But how
did he account for it?”
“It must have been his sisters’ doing. They were
certainly no friends to his acquaintance with me, which I cannot
wonder at, since he might have chosen so much more advantageously
in many respects. But when they see, as I trust they will, that
their brother is happy with me, they will learn to be contented,
and we shall be on good terms again: though we can never be what we
once were to each other.”
“That is the most unforgiving speech,” said
Elizabeth, “that I ever heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex
me, indeed, to see you again the dupe of Miss Bingley’s pretended
regard.”
“Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to
town last November he really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion
of my being indifferent would have prevented his coming down
again?’
“He made a little mistake, to be sure; but it is to
the credit of his modesty.”
This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on
his diffidence, and the little value he put on his own good
qualities.
Elizabeth was pleased to find, that he had not
betrayed the interference of his friend; for, though Jane had the
most generous and forgiving heart in the world, she knew it was a
circumstance which most prejudice her against him.
“I am certainly the most fortunate creature that
ever existed!” cried Jane. “Oh, Lizzy, why am I thus singled from
my family, and blessed above them all? If I could but see
you as happy! If there were but such another man for
you!”
“If you were to give me forty such men I never
could be so happy as you. Till I have your disposition, your
goodness, I never can have your happiness. No, no, let me shift for
myself; and, perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may meet with
another Mr. Collins in time.”
The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family
could not be long a secret. Mrs. Bennet was privileged to whisper
it to Mrs. Philips, and she ventured, without any
permission, to do the same by all her neighbours in Meryton.
The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the
luckiest family in the world; though only a few weeks before, when
Lydia had first run away, they had been generally proved to be
marked out for misfortune.