Chapter 11

MR.  WICKHAM was so perfectly satisfied with this 
conversation, that he never again distressed himself, or provoked his dear sister Elizabeth, by introducing the subject of it; and
she was pleased to find that she had said enough to keep
him quiet.
The day of his and Lydia's departure soon came, and Mrs. 
Bennet was forced to submit to a separation, which, as her
husband by no means entered into her scheme of their all
going to Newcastle, was likely to continue at least a twelve-
month.
"Oh!  my dear Lydia," she cried, "when shall we meet again?"
"Oh, lord!  I don't know.  Not these two or three years
perhaps."
"Write to me very often, my dear."
"As often as I can.  But you know married women have never
much time for writing.  My sisters may write to me.  They will
have nothing else to do."
Mr. Wickham's adieus were much more affectionate than
his wife's.  He smiled, looked handsome, and said many
pretty things.
"He is as fine a fellow," said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they
were out of the house, "as ever I saw.  He simpers, and smirks,
and makes love to us all.  I am prodigiously proud of him,
I defy even Sir William Lucas himself, to produce a more
valuable son-in-law."
The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for
several days.
"I often think," said she, "that there is nothlng so bad as
parting with one's friends.  One seems so forlorn without
them."
"This is the consequence you see, Madam, of marrying a
daughter," said Elizabeth.  "It must make you better satisfied
that your other four are single."
"It is no such thing.  Lydia does not leave me because she
is married; but only because her husband's regiment happens
to be so far off.  If that had been nearer, she would not have
gone so soon."
 But the spiritless condition which this event threw her into,
was shortly relieved, and her mind opened again to the agitation 
of hope, by an article of news, which then began to be in
circulation.  The housekeeper at Netherfield had received
orders to prepare for the arrival of her master, who was
coming down in a day or two, to shoot there for several weeks.
Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets.  She looked at Jane, and
smiled, and shook her head by turns.
"Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister,"
(for Mrs. Phillips first brought her the news.) "Well, so much
the better.  Not that I care about it, though.  He is nothing to
us, you know, and I am sure I never want to see him again.
But, however, he is very welcome to come to Netherfield, if
he likes it.  And who knows what may happen?  But that is
nothing to us.  You know, sister, we agreed long ago never to
mention a word about it.  And so, is it quite certain he is
coming?"
"You may depend on it," replied the other, "for Mrs. 
Nicholls was in Meryton last night; I saw her passing by, and
went out myself on purpose to know the truth ofit; and she
told me that it was certain true.  He comes down on Thursday
at the latest, very likely on Wednesday.  She was going to the
butcher's, she told me, on purpose to order in some meat on
Wednesday, and she has got three couple of ducks, just fit to
be killed."
Miss Bennet had not been able to hear of his coming, without changing colour.  It was many months since she had
mentioned his name to Elizabeth; but now, as soon as they
were alone together, she said,
"I saw you look at me to day, Lizzy, when my aunt told us
of the present report; and I know I appeared distressed.  But
don't imagine it was from any silly cause.  I was only confused
for the moment, because I felt that I should be looked at.  I do
assure you, that the news does not affect me either with
pleasure or pain.  I am glad of one thing, that he comes alone;
because we shall see the less of him.  Not that I am afraid of
myself, but I dread other people's remarks."
Elizabeth did not know what to make of it.  Had she not
seen him in Derbyshire, she might have supposed him
capable of coming there, with no other view than what was
acknowledged; but she still thought him partial to Jane, and
she wavered as to the greater probability of his coming there
with his friend's permission, or being bold enough to come
without it.
"Yet it is hard," she sometimes thought, "that this poor man
cannot come to a house, which he has legally hired, without
raising all this speculation!  I willleave him to himself."
 In spite of what her sister declared, and really believed to
be her feelings, in the expectation of his arrival, Elizabeth
could easily perceive that her spirits were affected by it.  They
were more disturbed, more unequal, than she had often
seen them.
The subject which had been so warmly canvassed between
their parents, about a twelvemonth ago, was now brought
forward again.
 "As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my dear," said Mrs. 
Bennet, "you will wait on him of course."
"No, no.  You forced me into visiting him last year, and
promised if I went to see him, he should marry one of my
 daughters.  But it ended in nothing, and I will not be sent on
a fool's errand again."
His wife represented to him how absolutely necessary such
an attention would be from all the neighbouring gentlemen,
on his returning to Netherfield.
"Tis an etiquette I despise," said he.  "If he wants our
society, let him seek it.  He knows where we live.  I will not
spend my hours in running after my neighbours every time
they go away, and come back again."
"Well, all I know is, that it will be abominably rude if
you do not wait on him.  But, however, that shan't prevent
my asking him to dine here, I am determined.  We must
 have Mrs. Long and the Gouldings soon.  That will make
thirteen with ourselves, so there will be just room at table
for him."
Consoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear
her husband's incivility; though it was very mortifying to
know that her neighbours might all see Mr. Bingley in
consequence of it, before they did.  As the day of his arrival
drew near,
"I begin to be sorry that he comes at all," said Jane to her
sister.  "It would be nothing; I could see him with perfect
indifference, but I can hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually
talked of.  My mother means well; but she does not know, no
one can know how much I suffer from what she says.  Happy
shall I be, when his stay at Netherfield is over!"
"I wish I could say any thing to comfort you," replied Elizabeth; 
"but it is wholly out of my power.  You must feel it; and
the usual satisfaction of preaching patience to a sufferer is
denied me, because you have always so much."
Mr. Bingley arrived.  Mrs. Bennet, through the assistance
of servants, contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that
the period of anxiety and fretfulness on her side, might be as
long as it could.  She counted the days that must intervene
before their invitation could be sent; hopeless of seeing him
before.  But on the third morning after his arrival in Hertfordshire, she saw him from her dressing-room window, enter the
paddock, and ride towards the house.
Her daughters were eagerly called to partake of her joy.
Jane resolutely kept her place at the table; but Elizabeth, to
satisfy her mother, went to the window -- she looked, -- she saw
Mr. Darcy with him, and sat down again by her sister.
"There is a gentleman with him, mamma," said Kitty; "who
can it be?"
"Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am
sure I do not know."
"La!" replied Kitty, "it looks just like that man that used to
be with him before.  Mr. what's his name.  That tall,
proud man."
"Good gracious!  Mr. Darcy! -- and so it does I vow.  Well,
any friend of Mr. Bingley's will always be welcome here to be
sure; but else I must say that I hate the very sight of him."
Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise and concern.  She
knew but little of their meeting in Derbyshire, and therefore
felt for the awkwardness which must attend her sister, in
seeing him almost for the first time after receiving his explanatory letter.  Both sisters were comfortable enough.  Each felt
for the other, and of course for themselves; and their mother
talked on, of her dislike of Mr. Darcy, and her resolution to
be civil to him only as Mr. Bingley's friend, without being
heard by either of them.  But Elizabeth had sources of uneasiness which could not be suspected by Jane, to whom she had
never yet had courage to shew Mrs. Gardiner's letter, or to
relate her own change of sentiment towards him.  To Jane,
he could be only a man whose proposals she had refused, and
whose merit she had undervalued; but to her own more extensive information, he was the person, to whom the whole family
were indebted for the first of benefits, and whom she regarded
herself with an interest, if not quite so tender, at least as
reasonable and just, as what Jane felt for Bingley.  Her astonishment at his coming -- at his coming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again, was almost equal to
what she had known on first witnessing his altered behaviour
in Derbyshire.
The colour which had been driven from her face, returned
for half a minute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight
added lustre to her eyes, as she thought for that space of time,
that his affection and wishes must still be unshaken.  But she
would not be secure.
"Let me first see how he behaves," said she; "it will then be
early enough for expectation."
 She sat intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring to lift up her eyes, till anxious curiosity carried
them to the face of her sister, as the servant was approaching
the door.  Jane looked a little paler than usual, but more sedate
than Elizabeth had expected.  On the gentlemen's appearing,
her colour increased; yet she received them with tolerable
ease, and with a propriety of behaviour equally free from any
symptom of resentment, or any unnecessary complaisance.
Elizabeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and
sat down again to her work, with an eagerness which it did
not often command.  She had ventured only one glance at
Darcy.  He looked serious as usual; and she thought more as
he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, than as she had
seen him at Pemberley.  But, perhaps he could not in her
mother's presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt.
It was a painful, but not an improbable, conjecture.
Bingley, she had likewise seen for an instant, and in that
short period saw him looking both pleased and embarrassed.
He was received by Mrs. Bennet with a degree of civility,
which made her two daughters ashamed, especially when
contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of her
curtsey and address to his friend.
Elizabeth particularly, who knew that her mother owed to
the latter the preservation of her favourite daughter from
irremediable infamy, was hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill applied.
Darcy, after enquiring of her how Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner
did, a question which she could not answer without confusion,
said scarcely any thing.  He was not seated by her; perhaps
that was the reason of his silence; but it had not been so in
Derbyshire.  There he had talked to her friends, when he could
not to herself.  But now several minutes elapsed, without
bringing the sound of his voice; and when occasionally,
unable to resist the impulse of curiosity, she raised he eyes
to his face, she as often found him looking at Jane, as at herself, 
and frequently on no object but the ground.  More
thoughtfulness, and less anxiety to please than when they last
met, were plainly expressed.  She was disappointed, and angry
with herself for being so.
"Could I expect it to be otherwise!" said she.  "Yet why did
he come?"
She was in no humour for conversation with any one but
himself; and to him she had hardly courage to speak.
She enquired after his sister, but could do no more.
"It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away," said
Mrs. Bennet.
He readily agreed to it.
"I began to be afraid you would never come back again.
People did say, you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope it is not true.  A great many changes
have happened in the neighbourhood, since you went away.
Miss Lucas is married and settled.  And one of my own daughters.  I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have
seen it in the papers.  It was in the Times and the Courier, I
know; though it was not put in as it ought to be.  It was only
said, `Lately, George Wickham, Esq.  to Miss Lydia Bennet,'
without there being a syllable said of her father, or the place
where she lived, or any thing.  It was my brother Gardiner's
drawing up too, and I wonder how he came to make such an
awkward business of it.  Did you see it?"
 Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations,
Elizabeth dared not lift up her eyes.  How Mr. Darcy looked,
therefore, she could not tell.
"It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well
married," continued her mother, "but at the same time, Mr,
Bingley, it is very hard to have her taken such a way from me.
They are gone down to Newcastle, a place quite northward,
it seems, and there they are to stay, I do not know how long.
His regiment is there; for I suppose you have heard of his
leaving the -- shire, and of his being gone into the regulars.
Thank Heaven!  he has some friends, though perhaps not so
many as he deserves."
 Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was
in such misery of shame, that she could hardly keep her seat.
It drew from her, however, the exertion of speaking, which
nothing else had so effectually done before; and she asked
Bingley, whether he meant to make any stay in the country at
present.  A few weeks, he believed.
"When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley,"
said her mother, "I beg you will come here, and shoot as many
as you please, on Mr. Bennet's manor.  I am sure he will be
vastly happy to oblige you, and will save all the best of the
 covies for you."
Elizabeth's misery increased, at such unnecessary, such
officious attention!  Were the same fair prospect to arise at
present, as had flattered them a year ago, every thing, she was
persuaded, would be hastening to the same vexatious conclusion.  At that instant she felt, that years of happiness could
not make Jane or herself amends, for moments of such painful confusion.
"The first wish of my heart," said she to herself, "is never
more to be in company with either of them.  Their society can
afford no pleasure, that will atone for such wretchedness as
this!  Let me never see either one or the other again!"
Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer
no compensation, received soon afterwards material relief,
from observing how much the beauty of her sister re-kindled
the admiration of her former lover.  When first he came in, he
had spoken to her but little; but every five minutes seemed to
be giving her more of his attention.  He found her as handsome
as she had been last year; as good natured, and as unaffected,
though not quite so chatty.  Jane was anxious that no difference
should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuaded that
she talked as much as ever.  But her mind was so busily engaged,
that she did not always know when she was silent.
When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was
mindful of her intended civility, and they were invited and
engaged to dine at Longbourn in a few days time.
"You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley," she added,
"for when you went to town last winter, you promised to take
a family dinner with us, as soon as you returned.  I have not forgot, you see; and I assure you, I was very much disappointed
that you did not come back and keep your engagement."
Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection, and said something 
of his concern, at having been prevented by business.
They then went away.
Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay
and dine there, that day; but, though she always kept a very
good table, she did not think any thing less than two courses,
could be good enough for a man, on whom she had such
anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and pride of one who
had ten thousand a year.