By Jane Austen

Chapter 9

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 judgement 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. 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  parlour. 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 will 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 have 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 the 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 towards 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 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 a few subjects for 

such a study. In a country neighbourhood 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 neighbourhood. "I assure  you there is quite as much of _that_ 

going on in the country as in town."

Everybody 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 it not, 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, Mamma, 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 the 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  neighbourhood, I believe there are few 

neighbourhoods larger. I know we  dine with four-and-twenty families."

Nothing but concern for Elizabeth  could enable Bingley to keep his 

countenance. His sister was less  delicate, and directed her eyes towards 

Mr. Darcy with a very expressive  smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of 

saying something that might turn her  mother's thoughts, now asked her if 

Charlotte Lucas had been at  Longbourn since _her_ coming away.

"Yes, she called yesterday with her  father. What an agreeable man Sir 

William is, Mr. Bingley, is not  he? So much the man of fashion! So 

genteel and easy! He had always  something to say to everybody. _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 very  differently. But everybody 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."

"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 anybody 

better looking. It is what everybody  says. I do not trust my own 

partiality. When she was only  fifteen, there was a man 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. Everything 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. 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-humoured countenance; a  favourite 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 

attention 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 when 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' behaviour 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_.

Chapter 10

The day passed much as the day  before had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss 

Bingley had spent some hours of  the morning with the invalid, who 

continued, though slowly, to mend;  and in the evening Elizabeth joined 

their party in the drawing-room. The  loo-table, however, did not appear. 

Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss  Bingley, seated near him, was watching 

the progress of his letter and repeatedly calling  

off his attention by messages to his sister.  

Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.

Elizabeth took up some needlework,  and was sufficiently amused in 

attending to what passed between  Darcy and his companion. The perpetual 

commendations of the lady, either on  his handwriting, or on the evenness 

of his lines, or on the length of his  letter, with the perfect unconcern 

with which her praises were received,  

formed a curious dialogue, and was exactly in union with her opinion of each.

"How delighted Miss Darcy will  be to receive such a letter!"

He made no answer.

"You write uncommonly fast."

"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."

"How many letters you must have  occasion to write in the course of a 

year! Letters of business, too!  How odious I should think them!"

"It is fortunate, then, that they  fall to my lot instead of yours."

"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her."

"I have already told her so once, by your desire."

"I am afraid you do not like your  pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend 

pens remarkably well."

"Thank you--but I always mend my own."

"How can you contrive to write so even?"

He was silent.

"Tell your sister I am delighted to  hear of her improvement on the harp; 

and pray let her know that I am  quite in raptures with her beautiful 

little design for a table, and I  think it infinitely superior to Miss 

Grantley's."

"Will you give me leave to defer  your raptures till I write again? At 

present I have not room to do them justice."

"Oh! it is of no consequence. I  shall see her in January. But do you 

always write such charming long  letters to her, Mr. Darcy?"

"They are generally long; but whether  always charming it is not for me 

to determine."

"It is a rule with me, that a person  who can write a long letter with 

ease, cannot write ill."

"That will not do for a compliment  to Darcy, Caroline," cried her 

brother, "because he does _not_ write  with ease. He studies too much for 

words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?"

"My style of writing is  very different from yours."

"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles  writes in the most careless way 

imaginable. He leaves out half  his words, and blots the rest."

"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have  not time to express them--by which 

means my letters sometimes convey no  ideas at all to my correspondents."