Читать книгу Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austin, Jane Austin - Страница 11

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 enquiries 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 has 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_.