CHAPTER XVI.

1AS no objection was made to the young people’s engagement with their aunt, and all Mr. Collins’s scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and the girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room, that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle’s invitation, and was then in the house.

2When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats, Mr. Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast parlour at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much gratification; but when Mrs. Philips understood from him what Rosings was, and who was its proprietor, when she had listened to the description of only one of Lady Catherine’s drawing-rooms, and found that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison with the housekeeper’s room.

3In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion, with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode, and the improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until the gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs. Philips a very attentive listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she heard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as soon as she could. 4To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin, and who had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, and examine their own indifferent imitations of china on the mantel-piece, the interval of waiting appeared very long. 5It was over at last, however. 6The gentlemen did approach: and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. 7The officers of the ——shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set and the best of them were of the present party; but Mr, Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.

8Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, and on the probability of a rainy season, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker.

9With such rivals for the notice of the fair as Mr. Wickham and the officers, Mr. Collins seemed to sink into insignificance; to the young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was, by her watchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin.

10When the card tables were placed, he had an opportunity of obliging her, in return, by sitting down to whist.

11“I know little of the game at present,” said he, “but I shall be glad to improve myself; for in my situation of life——” Mrs. Philips was very thankful for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.

12Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. 13At first there seemed danger of Lydia’s engrossing him entirely, for she was a most determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets, she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets and exclaiming after prizes, to have attention for anyone in particular. 14Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told, the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. 15She dared not even mention that gentleman. 16Her curiosity, however, was unexpectedly relieved. 17Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. 18He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.

19“About a month,” said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, “he is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand.”

20“Yes,” replied Wickham; “his estate there is a noble one. 21A clear ten thousand per annum. 22You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself—for I have been connected with his family, in a particular manner, from my infancy.”

23Elizabeth could not but look surprised.

24“You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday. 25Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?”

26“As much as I ever wish to be,” cried Elizabeth, warmly. 27“I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable.”

28“I have no right to give my opinion,” said Wickham, “as to his being agreeable or otherwise. 29I am not qualified to form one. 30I have known him too long and too well to be a fair judge. 31It is impossible for me to be impartial. 32But I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish—and, perhaps, you would not express it quite so strongly anywhere else. 33Here you are in your own family.”

34“Upon my word I say no more here than I might say in any house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. 35He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. 36Everybody is disgusted with his pride. 37You will not find him more favourably spoken of by anyone.”

38“I cannot pretend to be sorry,” said Wickham, after a short interruption, “that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond their deserts; but with him I believe it does not often happen. 39The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen.”

40“I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man.”

41Wickham only shook his head.

42“I wonder,” said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, “whether he is likely to be in this country much longer.”

43“I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away when I was at Netherfield. 44I hope your plans in favour of the ——shire will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood.”

45“Oh no—it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. 46If he wishes to avoid seeing me he must go. 47We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaim to all the world—a sense of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. 48His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections. 49His behaviour to myself has been scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father.”

50Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented further inquiry.

51Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter, especially, with gentle but very intelligible gallantry.

52“It was the prospect of constant society, and good society,” he added, “which was my chief inducement to enter the ——shire. 53I know it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps; and my friend Denny tempted me further by his account of their present quarters, and the very great attentions and excellent acquaintance Meryton had procured them. 54Society, I own, is necessary to me. 55I have been a disappointed man, and my spirits will not bear solitude. 56I must have employment and society. 57A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have now made it eligible. 58The church ought to have been my profession—I was brought up for the church; and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now.”

59“Indeed!”

60“Yes—the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his gift. 61He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. 62I cannot do justice to his kindness. 63He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere.”

64“Good heavens!” cried Elizabeth; “but how could that be? 65How could his will be disregarded? 66Why did not you seek legal redress?”

67“There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from law. 68A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it—or to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence, in short, anything or nothing. 69Certain it is that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it. 70I have a warm unguarded temper, and I may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. 71I can recall nothing worse. 72But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me.”

73“This is quite shocking! 74He deserves to be publicly disgraced.”

75“Some time or other he will be—but it shall not be by me. 76Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him.”

77Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than ever as he expressed them.

78“But what,” said she, after a pause, “can have been his motive? 79what can have induced him to behave so cruelly?”

80“A thorough, determined dislike of me—a dislike which I cannot but attribute in some measure to jealousy. 81Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father’s uncommon attachment to me irritated him, I believe, very early in life. 82He had not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood—the sort of preference which was often given me.”

83“I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this—though I have never liked him, I had not thought so very ill of him—I had supposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this!”

84After a few minutes’ reflection, however, she continued, “I do remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. 85His disposition must be dreadful.”

86“I will not trust myself on the subject,” replied Wickham; “I can hardly be just to him.”

87Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, “To treat in such a manner the godson, the friend, the favourite of his father!” 88She could have added, “A young man, too, like you, whose very countenance may vouch for your being amiable.” 89But she contented herself with—“And one, too, who had probably been his own companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner.”

90“We were born in the same parish, within the same park; the greatest part of our youth was passed together: inmates of the same house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. 91My father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Philips, appears to do so much credit to; but he gave up everything to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the Pemberley property. 92He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate, confidential friend. 93Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself to be under the greatest obligations to my father’s active superintendence; and when, immediately before my father’s death, Mr. Darcy gave him a voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to him as of affection to myself.”

94“How strange!” cried Elizabeth. 95“How abominable! 96I wonder that the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you. 97If from no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest,—for dishonesty I must call it.”

98“It is wonderful,” replied Wickham; “for almost all his actions may be traced to pride; and pride has often been his best friend. 99It has connected him nearer with virtue than any other feeling. 100But we are none of us consistent; and in his behaviour to me there were stronger impulses even than pride.”

101“Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?”

102“Yes; it has often led him to be liberal and generous; to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. 103Family pride, and filial pride, for he is very proud of what his father was, have done this. 104Not to appear to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. 105He has also brotherly pride, which, with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers.”

106“What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy?”

107He shook his head. 108“I wish I could call her amiable. 109It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy; but she is too much like her brother,—very, very proud. 110As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. 111But she is nothing to me now. 112She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand, highly accomplished. 113Since her father’s death her home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her education.”

114After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not help reverting once more to the first, and saying,—

115“I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley. 116How can Mr. Bingley, who seems good-humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? 117How can they suit each other? 118Do you know Mr. Bingley?”

119“Not at all.”

120“He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. 121He cannot know what Mr. Darcy is.”

122“Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. 123He does not want abilities. 124He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth his while. 125Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. 126His pride never deserts him; but with the rich he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and, perhaps, agreeable,—allowing something for fortune and figure.”

127The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round the other table, and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips. 128The usual inquiries as to his success were made by the latter. 129It had not been very great; he had lost every point; but when Mrs. Philips began to express her concern thereupon, he assured her, with much earnest gravity, that it was not of the least importance; that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged she would not make herself uneasy.

130“I know very well, madam,” said he, “that when persons sit down to a card table they must take their chance of these things,—and happily I am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. 131There are, undoubtedly, many who could not say the same; but, thanks to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding little matters.”

132Mr. Wickham’s attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relations were very intimately acquainted with the family of De Bourgh.

133“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” she replied, “has very lately given him a living. 134I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her notice, but he certainly has not known her long.”

135“You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy.”

136“No, indeed, I did not. 137I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine’s connections. 138I never heard of her existence till the day before yesterday.”

139“Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates.”

140This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor Miss Bingley. 141Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless her affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were already self-destined to another.

142“Mr. Collins,” said she, “speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her daughter; but, from some particulars that he has related of her Ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him; and that, in spite of her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman.”

143“I believe her to be both in a great degree,” replied Wickham; “I have not seen her for many years; but I very well remember that I never liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. 144She has the reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew, who chooses that everyone connected with him should have an understanding of the first class.”

145Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it, and they continued talking together with mutual satisfaction till supper put an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr. Wickham’s attentions. 146There could be no conversation in the noise of Mrs. Philips’s supper party, but his manners recommended him to everybody. 147Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done gracefully. 148Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. 149She could think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all the way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name as they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. 150Lydia talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the fish she had won; and Mr. Collins, in describing the civility of Mr. and Mrs. Philips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House.