Читать книгу Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austin, Jane Austin - Страница 18

Elizabeth related to Jane the next day what had passed between

Mr. Wickham and herself. Jane listened with astonishment and

concern; she knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be so

unworthy of Mr. Bingley’s regard; and yet, it was not in her

nature to question the veracity of a young man of such amiable

appearance as Wickham. The possibility of his having endured such

unkindness, was enough to interest all her tender feelings; and

nothing remained therefore to be done, but to think well of them

both, to defend the conduct of each, and throw into the account

of accident or mistake whatever could not be otherwise explained.

“They have both,” said she, “been deceived, I dare say, in some

way or other, of which we can form no idea. Interested people

have perhaps misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short,

impossible for us to conjecture the causes or circumstances which

may have alienated them, without actual blame on either side.”

“Very true, indeed; and now, my dear Jane, what have you got to

say on behalf of the interested people who have probably been

concerned in the business? Do clear _them_ too, or we shall be

obliged to think ill of somebody.”

“Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my

opinion. My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgraceful

light it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating his father’s favourite

in such a manner, one whom his father had promised to provide

for. It is impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had

any value for his character, could be capable of it. Can his most

intimate friends be so excessively deceived in him? Oh! no.”

“I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley’s being imposed on,

than that Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself as

he gave me last night; names, facts, everything mentioned without

ceremony. If it be not so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides,

there was truth in his looks.”

“It is difficult indeed—it is distressing. One does not know what

to think.”

“I beg your pardon; one knows exactly what to think.”

But Jane could think with certainty on only one point—that Mr.

Bingley, if he _had been_ imposed on, would have much to suffer

when the affair became public.

The two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery, where this

conversation passed, by the arrival of the very persons of whom

they had been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give

their personal invitation for the long-expected ball at

Netherfield, which was fixed for the following Tuesday. The two

ladies were delighted to see their dear friend again, called it

an age since they had met, and repeatedly asked what she had been

doing with herself since their separation. To the rest of the

family they paid little attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much

as possible, saying not much to Elizabeth, and nothing at all to

the others. They were soon gone again, rising from their seats

with an activity which took their brother by surprise, and

hurrying off as if eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet’s civilities.

The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to

every female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as

given in compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly

flattered by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself,

instead of a ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy

evening in the society of her two friends, and the attentions of

their brother; and Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a

great deal with Mr. Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of

everything in Mr. Darcy’s look and behaviour. The happiness

anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended less on any single

event, or any particular person, for though they each, like

Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham, he

was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a

ball was, at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her

family that she had no disinclination for it.

“While I can have my mornings to myself,” said she, “it is

enough—I think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening

engagements. Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself

one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement

as desirable for everybody.”

Elizabeth’s spirits were so high on this occasion, that though

she did not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could

not help asking him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley’s

invitation, and if he did, whether he would think it proper to

join in the evening’s amusement; and she was rather surprised to

find that he entertained no scruple whatever on that head, and

was very far from dreading a rebuke either from the Archbishop,

or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to dance.

“I am by no means of the opinion, I assure you,” said he, “that a

ball of this kind, given by a young man of character, to

respectable people, can have any evil tendency; and I am so far

from objecting to dancing myself, that I shall hope to be

honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course of

the evening; and I take this opportunity of soliciting yours,

Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially, a preference

which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right cause,

and not to any disrespect for her.”

Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in. She had fully

proposed being engaged by Mr. Wickham for those very dances; and

to have Mr. Collins instead! her liveliness had never been worse

timed. There was no help for it, however. Mr. Wickham’s happiness

and her own were perforce delayed a little longer, and Mr.

Collins’s proposal accepted with as good a grace as she could.

She was not the better pleased with his gallantry from the idea

it suggested of something more. It now first struck her, that

_she_ was selected from among her sisters as worthy of being

mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a

quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible

visitors. The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed

his increasing civilities toward herself, and heard his frequent

attempt at a compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more

astonished than gratified herself by this effect of her charms,

it was not long before her mother gave her to understand that the

probability of their marriage was extremely agreeable to _her_.

Elizabeth, however, did not choose to take the hint, being well

aware that a serious dispute must be the consequence of any

reply. Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and till he did,

it was useless to quarrel about him.

If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk

of, the younger Miss Bennets would have been in a very pitiable

state at this time, for from the day of the invitation, to the

day of the ball, there was such a succession of rain as prevented

their walking to Meryton once. No aunt, no officers, no news

could be sought after—the very shoe-roses for Netherfield were

got by proxy. Even Elizabeth might have found some trial of her

patience in weather which totally suspended the improvement of

her acquaintance with Mr. Wickham; and nothing less than a dance

on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and

Monday endurable to Kitty and Lydia.