Since Mama had not found Jane in any apparent danger, she was free from worry or self-contempt. But since Jane showed every sign of a full recovery, there was no reason for Mama being miserable from guilt and her first plan had fallen back into place.
She did not want Jane to leave. Her statement was supported by the apothecary, who had arrived very soon after we had, to confirm that it was beneficial for Jane not to be moved. Therefore, despite Jane and Elizabeth desiring to return home, they had to stay.
After a quarter of an hour, Miss Bingley entered and invited us to join the family in the breakfast parlor. I wish that Mama had not accepted, making an excuse why we had to leave, but of course not. Rather, she accepted, and I knew that we were walking to a room of people who could not bear the sight of us.
Every word that Miss Bingley said dripped of falsity, and empty invitations, but Mama only saw this as the prospect to speak to Mr. Bingley and increase Jane’s suit with him. Therefore, before we all knew it, Mama, Lydia, and I were sitting down in the breakfast parlor, while Elizabeth stood by a window. As such, the family was looking down on us while tea was brought in.
Mr. Bingley looked eager and attended to us kindly.
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were seated, and their eyes held a reserve that was not one born from being mannerly.
Mr. Hurst stood in a corner and looked bored.
Mr. Darcy stood by a window and his face said nothing. I felt at liberty to translate this as he wishing that we had never met.
“Well,” Mr. Bingley said, coming up to us, “have you seen Miss Bennet? How did you find her?”
“Indeed, I have, sir,” Mama replied. “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.”
Within his eyes was a marked sincerity and worry about Jane’s health.
“Removed!” Mr. Bingley cried. “It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal.”
At the mention of her, I immediately turned to Miss Bingley, to see how she would react to this.
La!
I was too fast for her. Since I had looked on her sooner than anyone else, it was sooner than she could mask her disdain at the idea of her brother deciding things for her. Cold obedience was something she was forced to comply to, and now she must be civil. When everyone else turned to her, she had a gentle smile on her face—but I knew different. I knew what lay beneath.
“You may depend upon it, Madam,” Miss Bingley responded. Her tone was civil, but there was no real warmth in her eyes and voice. “That Miss Bennet will receive every possible attention while she remains with us.”
“Oh, you all are so very good,” Mama exclaimed, “I thank you. Truly, it is a delight to have such amiable neighbors, and to know that my dear daughter has such good friends. When she received your invitation, Miss Bingley, you could not imagine how happy it made her. And I am sure 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 would think such language would hurt me, but I resigned myself to not really care for Mama when she spoke that way.
When mama’s praises for Jane were exhausted, she looked around the room and observed the beauty of it.
“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,” he responded, “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,” Elizabeth inferred. Mr. Bingley smiled and looked down at her.
“You begin to comprehend me, do you?” He questioned, amused.
“Oh! Yes—I understand you perfectly.”
“I wish I might take this for a compliment,” he continued, “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!” Our mother snapped rashly. “Remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home.”
I closed my eyes, mortified.
* * *
If Mama had one characteristic to her that would remain constant, it would be her tendency to criticize impropriety, while committing impropriety herself. The way that she spoke to Elizabeth was uncouth, to say the least. Even I felt that it looked too vulgar. I stole a glance at Mr. Darcy, who noted Mama’s ill-judged comment and his eyes turned even colder—if that were possible. In that second, I was determined; I would not speak to anyone else, besides Lydia, the rest of the time we were here. I just wanted to be anywhere else than where I was. Luckily, Lydia began to whisper things to me, so I pretended to act like I did not hear anything that Mama said from thenceforth. Yet, in truth, I heard everything.
“I did not know before that you were a studier of character,” Mr. Bingley replied, hurriedly. This made me smile and recall why I had once liked him from the first. It was obvious that he was trying to ignore and rush away mama’s comment. He was successful. “It must be an amusing study.”
“Yes, but intricate characters are the most amusing,” Elizabeth continued. “They have at least that advantage.”
Mr. Darcy shifted in his stance, and it drew everyone’s attention. Even mine.
“The country can in general supply but a few subjects for such a study,” Mr. Darcy noted. “In a country neighborhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society.”
Elizabeth turned to him, unafraid.
Lizzy,’ I thought, whatever it is you are about to say, please let it be either wise or witty. Anything less, and Mr. Darcy will find something about it to ridicule. Lizzy, please, don’t be foolish!
“But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them forever,” she administered.
Lizzy: 1.
Mr. Darcy: 0!
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mama open her mouth. Oh no!
“Yes, indeed,” Mama cried. For some reason, she was offended. “I assure you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town.”
The surprise and alarm that this reaction warranted was palpable ALL throughout the room. For some reason, Mama had translated Mr. Darcy’s comment about country neighborhoods being confined by number as being offensive. Even I knew that she took it in the wrong way.
The Bingley women eyed Mama venomously, then gave each other a look. Mr. Bingley scratched his face, nervous. Mr. Hurst… was still bored.
Mr. Darcy’s reaction was the most strikingly painful. He turned away from us, silently. Mama’s posture straightened up even more, and she didn’t see the harm that she had caused. Rather, she had thought she was victorious.
“I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country,” she continued, “for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is it not, Mr. Bingley?”
Mr. Bingley’s eyes shifted between Mr. Darcy’s offended stance, and Mama.
“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.”
The diplomatic answer!
“Aye—that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman,” she urged, referring to Mr. Darcy, “seemed to think the country was nothing at all.”
“Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken,” said Elizabeth, her face flushed from embarrassment. “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.”
She seemed to be incapable of understanding that she had been offended for no reason.
“But as to not meeting with many people in this neighborhood,” she continued, “I believe there are few neighborhoods larger. I know we dine with four-and-twenty families.”
None of this was to the point. Uncharacteristic unto myself, I was even more resigned to not saying a word. This was so painfully embarrassing, and I did not know where to look.
I could not look at Mr. Darcy, because he had only grown stiffer, went to the window and looked out of it, unable to even look at our mother.
I could not look at the Bingley sisters, because they smiled mockingly and looked to Mr. Darcy.
I could not look at Mr. Hurst—well, actually, I could because he still just looked bored.
Mr. Bingley kept his countenance, obviously out of concern for Elizabeth. I meant nothing to him.
Now it was different.
Mr. Darcy: 1.
The Bennet family: 0.
We needed something to exonerate us, something to redeem our image, but there was nothing. For some reason, in that moment, I did care about how we were regarded. I was entirely forlorn—when Elizabeth suddenly spoke.
“Mama,” Elizabeth furthered, “has Charlotte Lucas been at Longbourn since I came away?”
I sighed inwardly, overjoyed. Elizabeth was trying to change the subject, and hopefully this would help us.
“Yes,” Mama answered, “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.” Suddenly, her eyes grew disdainful as she turned to Mr. Darcy. “And those persons who fancy themselves very important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter.”
Once more, Elizabeth tried to pull Mama away from her biting words.
“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.”
Mama, I love you. But stop talking and let us just go home. This is a visit where nothing can be salvaged.
“She seems a very pleasant young woman,” Mr. Bingley said of Charlotte.
“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,” Elizabeth interjected, clearly also at her wit’s end with Mama’s display. “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!”
Suddenly, Mr. Darcy turned around and faced Elizabeth. Oh dear! Lizzy, if he says anything untoward, please find a way to best him. I would be angry at you if you didn’t defeat his intelligence.
“I have been used to considering poetry as the food of love,” Mr. Darcy countered.
“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.”
Mr. Darcy smiled.
I never would have thought it, but he actually smiled!
I found my courage and there was nothing wanting now. For the tide of conversation had been brought back to a balance of pleasantness.
Mr. Darcy: neutral.
Elizabeth: neutral.
Now, it just had to stay that way.
But then there was an awkwardness. For some reason, a silence fell on us all, and we all felt the strangeness of it. And above all, Mama felt it the most.
“Mr. Bingley, I really must thank you again and again for looking after my dearest daughter,” she continued. “And I am heartily sorry for troubling you also with Lizzy.”
“Both are equally pleasant to have in the household,” he continued, “for my sisters love Miss Bennet’s company, and I admire Miss Elizabeth’s devotion to her sister. Such sibling affection is always a pleasant thing to witness. Is it not, Caroline?”
Miss Bingley was forced to be civil once more, and they did their duty to the best their tempers allowed.
“Once more, you are all so very good,” Mama concluded, standing up, “Now, if you would be so kind as have our carriage ordered around, that would be the last thing that we ever ask of you.”
“For today,” I heard Mrs. Hurst whisper to Miss Bingley.
“Oh,” Lydia voiced suddenly, boisterously, “Mr. Bingley, I feel at liberty to remember something important. I recall hearing you say, at the Assembly, that you mentioned the idea of giving a ball. If you have done so, sir, then I must tell you, that you shall break the heart of many people, and it would be the most shameful thing in the world, if you do not keep your word.”
“I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement,” he confirmed, much to my elation, “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.”
“Then I am satisfied,” Lydia replied, rubbing her elbow against my side, and this caused me to laugh. “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, I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not.”