Chapter Six Back to Previous Chapter The next day, Henry prepared to set out for a walk when he noticed Elizabeth and Mrs. Hurst keeping one another silent company in the sitting-room, Mr. Hurst having repaired to the library for an afternoon nap. Henry politely asked the ladies to accompany him; he expected Elizabeth's ready acquiescence, but was surprised when Mrs. Hurst stood to join them. However, he rose gallantly to the occasion and gave an arm to each of the ladies. He whistled for Bear, who lumbered along behind their group, his tongue lagging out and his dog-sense searching for the nearest available body of water in which to hurl himself. They walked through the shrubbery, speaking of commonplace subjects like the weather and the roads, when they suddenly encountered Darcy with Miss Bingley clinging to his arm. Henry noticed that Miss Bingley's colour rose when she saw them, and wondered if they had been engaging in lovers' talk. After his conversation with Darcy the night before, he was surprised that Darcy would place himself in danger of saying something that he could not honourably retract. "I did not know that you intended to walk," said Miss Bingley, in some consternation. "You used us abominably ill," answered Mrs. Hurst, "in running away without telling us that you were coming out." Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth and Henry alone together. The path just admitted three. Henry would have attributed a great deal more delicacy to Mrs. Hurst, but supposed that she must know her sister better than he. Darcy said, "This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the avenue." But Elizabeth laughingly answered, "No, no; stay where you are. You are charmingly grouped, and appear to uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting two more. Do you not agree, Mr. Tilney?" "Indeed," said Henry with a smile. "Gilpin allows that five is as picturesque as three, but I cannot agree with him. Miss Bennet and I shall have to stay a pair and hope that no one of nice taste notices our unhappy circumstances." Henry had truthfully been inclined to join the group, if only to keep Darcy from actions that he would later regret in regard to Miss Bingley, but the presence of Mrs. Hurst would prevent that, and he had much rather be with Elizabeth. They went off together and rambled about the grounds, talking of many subjects, no longer restricted by the presence of Mrs. Hurst. Henry was delighted with his walking partner; eventually the conversation turned to his parish, his parsonage, and his improvements, and led naturally from there to Catherine. Elizabeth asked Henry many questions about his lady, and he answered them gratefully, happy to unburden his heart to such a disinterested and thoughtful recipient. "No, Catherine does not play," he said in answer to a polite question regarding Miss Morland's accomplishments. "But she enjoys listening to music very much. I think she would enjoy hearing you play, Miss Bennet." Elizabeth laughed heartily at this statement. "Then Miss Morland must not be a very discerning judge of music. I believe I would like her very much indeed, Mr. Tilney." "Yes, I believe you would. And I believe she would like you as well." They walked along in silence for a few moments, and finally Elizabeth said, "You miss her a great deal, do not you?" "I do," he said with some feeling. "We spent some time together at my father's home and I became quite warmly attached to her. Now that we must be separated, it is as if a part of me is missing." He smiled at her ruefully. "That is a hackneyed metaphor, I am afraid, and I assure you I am not in the habit of using such trite expressions, but in this case I find that it is very true." "Are you to be married very soon?" Henry sighed heavily. "I do not know when we shall be married. There is parental disapprobation that is preventing our union." "Miss Morland's parents object to you as a son-in-law?" Elizabeth was indignant for his sake. "No, the disapprobation is on my family's side, I am afraid. My father, General Tilney, is of a volatile temper, and places a great deal too much emphasis on fortune and social standing, especially in those to whom his children become allied. He took the word of an acquaintance of Catherine's brother that her family was rich and that Catherine had been named heiress to the local squire. On that information, he was not only willing but insistent that I should marry her. He has only himself to blame for believing such nonsense." "Miss Morland's family is not rich, then?" "Not rich, no, but quite comfortable. She will have a perfectly respectable dowry of three thousand pounds. But my father received information from the same source that led him to believe that the Morlands are not only poor but of uncertain character, which is, of course, as untrue as his first assertions. My father unfortunately does not give as much weight to honour as to wealth, and did not understand the wrong he had done to Catherine, and to me, by forbidding me to pay my addresses to her any longer. But by that time my heart belonged to her, and honour as well as affection bid me to ask for her hand. The Morlands, however, could not sanction a marriage that my father had forbidden, although they kindly added that they would give us their blessing if the General's position should change. And there we stand." "Three thousand pounds," mused Elizabeth. "That is a great deal more than I shall ever have." At his inquisitive look, she went on. "My father's estate is entailed to the male line, and since he has no son, it will be inherited by our cousin, a Mr. Collins. My father has no funds at his disposal to make dowries for all five of us." "I should think a gentleman of discernment would see your obvious charms, even without a dowry," said Henry with a gallant bow. "Marrying solely for the sake of your partner's fortune is not the way to ensure your future happiness, Lizzy." Elizabeth laughed. "Perhaps one should not marry for money, but I am sure you will agree that one cannot marry without it, either." "Wise words indeed, madam." A pause followed his statement, and then he added, "And now I must beg your pardon. Darcy has chastised me already for my regrettable familiarity, Miss Bennet. I should not call you by your Christian name as if you were my sister. As an excuse I can offer only that I have come to look upon you as quite a close acquaintance." "That is quite all right, Henry," she said teasingly. "There, now, we are even." She hesitated, then added, "And I am particularly gratified that you count me as such a close acquaintance. I count you as one of my good friends as well." They smiled at each other, and Henry was once again struck by the way that they seemed to exchange thoughts and ideas without speaking, as if they were controlled by a single mind, or two minds so alike that they were nearly indistinguishable. When they finally returned to the house, they were met with the happy intelligence that Jane was already so much recovered as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening. When the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing-room after dinner, Miss Bennet was seated near the fire, well-wrapped in several shawls. All four ladies were laughing together when they entered the room, and Henry was pleased to see even Elizabeth smiling and laughing with them. However, Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned towards Darcy, and she had something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed himself directly to Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation, as did Henry; Mr. Hurst also made her a slight bow, and said he was "very glad;" but diffuseness and warmth remained for Bingley's salutation. He was full of joy and attention. The first half hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she should suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desire to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be farther from the door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to any one else. Elizabeth retired to a corner with her needlework, and Henry joined her. They talked quietly together while they drank their tea. When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the card-table, but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr. Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst soon found even his open petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and the silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to justify her. Mr. Hurst had therefore nothing to do but to stretch himself on one of the sofas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same; and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and rings, joined now and then in her brother's conversation with Miss Bennet. It occurred to Henry that Mrs. Hurst, gazing at the shiny baubles that graced her wrists and fingers, looked rather like one of his terriers when he dangled his pocket-watch in front of them: all their attention fixed unblinkingly on the gleaming object, their eyes following intently even the most minute degree of movement. But he was too much of a gentleman to reflect long upon the fact that Mrs. Hurst's eyes showed little more intelligence than those of the dogs. Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in watching Mr. Darcy's progress through his book, as in reading her own; and she was perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. She could not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely answered her question, and read on. Elizabeth observed to Henry, "Mr. Darcy does not seem to be susceptible to Miss Bingley's overtures. I suppose one must admire her persistence, however." Henry, unwilling to disclose a confidence even to Elizabeth, said only, "If Miss Bingley's attentions were unwelcome, then Darcy would not admit them." "Speaking for myself, I would hope for more encouragement from a lover than Miss Bingley appears to be receiving." "Perhaps Darcy feels constrained by having an audience." "So you do think that there is a mutual attraction?" "I can have no opinion on that subject," said Henry resolutely. Elizabeth looked at him keenly for a moment, then returned her gaze to her work. "Very well, Mr. Tilney, you may keep your friend's counsel, as a proper clergyman should. However, I am not in Mr. Darcy's confidence and thus am free to speculate, and I sense that you do not entirely approve of a match between Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley." Henry opened his mouth to protest, but Elizabeth continued to speak. "Perhaps you feel that they are not well-matched as to temper. You have told me that, among his friends, Mr. Darcy is completely amiable, and I must take you at your word. In return, I will assure you that Miss Bingley can be surprisingly agreeable. During the hour which passed in this room before you and the other gentlemen appeared, I have never enjoyed Miss Bingley's company more, nor Mrs. Hurst's. Their powers of conversation are considerable. They can describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit." "I am happy to hear that, for Darcy's sake." Henry was silent for a moment, then added, "I see by your expression that you do not agree with my description of Darcy's temper. He has been an excellent and valuable friend to me over the years. Unfortunately, to those with whom he is not closely acquainted, he can give an incorrect impression of his temper. At his home, at Pemberley, he is the master, and like many rich men is accustomed to ordering his household as he desires, and expressing himself freely when his orders are not carried out." Elizabeth considered this. "And when his friends' households are not ordered as he would desire? Does he express himself freely on such an occasion?" "Darcy does not interfere in his friends' affairs, Miss Bennet," said Henry. "He offers advice when it is requested, as any good friend would, but he certainly does not impose his will where he should not." "Perhaps he does not impose his will upon you," said Elizabeth, one eyebrow raised. "Perhaps because you would not allow him to do so." "Certainly not," said Henry with some warmth. "I cannot help but wonder if Miss Bingley would allow Mr. Darcy to impose his will upon her," Elizabeth mused. "And how he will accept it if she does not." Henry suspected that Miss Bingley would accept any indignity or loss of precedence to be Mrs. Darcy, but could hardly say so to Elizabeth, so he changed the subject. "I am glad to see your sister so well recovered. And I believe that Bingley is glad as well." Elizabeth raised her eyes from her work and smiled as she watched Mr. Bingley rewrap a stray bit of shawl round the eldest Miss Bennet's shoulders. "It is good to see Jane well, and seemingly so happy." She glanced over at Henry and added, "Do you know Mr. Bingley's temper as well as you know Mr. Darcy's?" "I have not known him quite as long, but I assure you that we are quite close. And I can guess your next question; unfortunately Bingley has not confided in me as to his feelings toward your sister." "I would not expect you to tell me if he has," said Elizabeth archly, and Henry laughed. At that moment, Miss Bingley gave a great yawn and said, "How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library." Like the library at Pemberley, I suppose? thought Henry, and was immediately ashamed of his mean-spiritedness; no one of the party made any reply. Miss Bingley then yawned again, threw aside her book, and cast her eyes round the room in quest of some amusement; when, hearing her brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly towards him and said, "By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure." "I know you cannot mean Tilney, so you must be speaking of Darcy," cried her brother. "He may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins; but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough I shall send round my cards." "I should like balls infinitely better," she replied, "if they were carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the day." Henry was not surprised at her statement, having heard Darcy make much the same observation at an earlier time. Miss Bingley was far too imperceptive to realize that Darcy had been only half-serious. "Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a ball." Henry chuckled aloud at this and noticed a smile on Elizabeth's face as well. Miss Bingley made no answer; and soon afterwards got up and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well; but Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. To Henry's astonishment, she turned to Elizabeth and said, "Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude." Elizabeth was as surprised as Henry, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingley succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy looked up and unconsciously closed his book. He was directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing that he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which motives his joining them would interfere. "What do you mean, sir?" Miss Bingley said to Darcy, and to Elizabeth she added, "What on earth could he mean?" "I think we would do better not to inquire," was her answer. "Depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it." "Nay, we insist upon knowing your meaning, sir!" "I have not the smallest objection to explaining my meaning," said he, as soon as she allowed him to speak. "You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, I should be completely in your way; and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire." "Oh! shocking!" cried Miss Bingley. "I never heard any thing so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?" "Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said Elizabeth. "We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him--laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done." "But upon my honour I do not. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind! No, no; I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself." "Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried Elizabeth. "That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintance. I dearly love a laugh." Henry looked up from his volume of Radcliffe in time to exchange a smile with her at that remark. "Miss Bingley," said Darcy, "has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke." "Certainly," replied Elizabeth "there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without." "Perhaps that is not possible for any one. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule." "Such as vanity and pride." "Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride--where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation." Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile, and Henry sighed; it pained him to have two people for whom he had such regard as Elizabeth and Darcy so at odds with one another. "Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume," said Miss Bingley, "and pray, what is the result?" "I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise." "No," said Darcy, "I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding--certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion, once lost, is lost for ever." "That is a failing indeed!" cried Elizabeth. "Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it; you are safe from me." "There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome." "And your defect is a propensity to hate everybody." "And yours," he replied with a smile, "is willfully to misunderstand them." "Do let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share. "Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst." Her sister made not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was opened, and Miss Bingley spent some time entertaining Mr. Darcy, and by extension the others, with a selection of love-songs. The next day, Henry came into the house with his gun and dog and stopped to remove his muddy boots. Bingley's valet, as friendly and good-natured as his master, offered his services, and Henry laid the gun on the floor and seated himself on a bench while the man pulled off his boots. Bear pushed between them, attempting to sniff at the dirt and water that stained the edges of Henry's greatcoat, and the valet was hard put to complete his task and avoid the creature's importunities. Henry attempted to call the dog to order, and Bear was happy enough to abandon his prior amusement and leap upon him, place his large, muddy paws on his chest, and salute his master with enthusiastic licks and snuffles. Henry's face and shirtfront were soon covered with canine saliva, but finally he succeeded in pushing the dog away, weakened though he was with laughter at his pet's impertinent behaviour. Elizabeth entered the hall in time to observe this spectacle. Henry expected her to laugh at him and prepared a properly teasing response, but she did not appear to notice. "Has a messenger come from Longbourn?" she asked a passing footman, who shook his head. "I'll take these and clean them up for you, Mr. Tilney," said the grinning valet, and bustled off with the boots, the gun, and the muddy greatcoat. Bear padded along behind him, leaving dirty footprints on the sparkling floor, much to his master's dismay. "Forgive me, Miss Bennet," Henry said, mopping his face with a handkerchief. "I could not help but overhear--I hope there is not a problem at Longbourn? Miss Bennet is not ill again?" "No, Mr. Tilney. I thank you for your concern. I have written to my mother to beg that the carriage might be sent for Jane and me in the course of the day. I am afraid that we have well overstayed our welcome." Henry sighed. "I, for one, shall be sorry to see you go, and I dare say that Bingley shall be sorry as well." A sudden suspicion prompted him to ask, "I hope that no one has said anything that has made you feel uncomfortable or unwelcome." Elizabeth looked archly. "I suppose by 'no one' you mean Miss Bingley. While she has not been entirely civil to me, I have not allowed her to make me feel unwelcome. My own sense of propriety has prompted me to hasten our departure, and Jane agrees with me." "Well, if you are set on leaving, I can only express a hope that you receive such a message from your mother as you could desire." "I thank you, sir." "And now I must make myself presentable for luncheon. If you will excuse me, Miss Bennet." "Of course, Mr. Tilney." Her answer was distracted, and she went to the window by the door and peeked outside, looking for a rider. To the surprise of no one, Mrs. Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the carriage before Tuesday; and in her postscript it was added that, if Mr. Bingley and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well. At luncheon, Jane requested the use of Bingley's carriage to take her and her sister back to Longbourn. The communication excited many professions of concern; and enough was said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day, to work on Jane; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Henry observed that Miss Bingley did not appear especially happy that Jane agreed to stay; he was forcibly reminded of Isabella Thorpe and her habit of expressing one thought or emotion and appearing to feel entirely another. The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be safe for her, that she was not enough recovered; but Jane was firm where she felt herself to be right. Darcy did not appear to be particularly moved by the impending departure of the Miss Bennets. At one time during the day, Henry came upon Darcy and Elizabeth, alone together in the drawing-room; Darcy had his nose deep in a volume of history and was studiously ignoring the lady. Elizabeth, for her part, had a book of her own and seemed not at all put out by the gentleman's inattention. Well, at least they are not arguing, thought Henry tiredly. On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, took place. Miss Bingley's civility to Elizabeth increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and when they parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with the former. Elizabeth took leave of the whole party in the liveliest spirits, except for Henry. "I shall be sorry to see you go, Miss Bennet," said Henry, taking her hand and bowing. "Your company will be greatly missed." "As will yours," she said. "You must come to dine at Longbourn. Wait not for an invitation; simply appear some afternoon around four and you will be sure to be asked to stay. I think my father would enjoy your company." "I shall do that, madam. Good-bye." "Good-bye, Mr. Tilney." She climbed into the carriage after her sister. Bingley stepped away from the glass, where he had been in conversation with Jane, and the carriage rolled away. The two men watched its progress down the drive, and from inside the house Darcy watched his friends thoughtfully. Continued in Next Chapter ~ Table of Contents By A Lady Comment on this story Home ~ Site Map ~ Contact Original Images and Content Copyright © 2002 by Margaret C. Sullivan. All Rights Reserved.