‘My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing?’ asked Sir William, as though reading my thoughts. ‘Mr Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, when so much beauty is before you.’
He took her hand, and surprised me by almost giving it to me. I had not thought of dancing with her myself, I had only thought of watching her, but I would have taken her hand if she had not surprised me by drawing back.
‘Indeed, sir, I have not the slightest intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner,’ she said.
I found that I did not want to give up the unlookedfor treat.
‘Will you give me the honour of your hand?’ I asked, interested rather than otherwise by her reluctance to dance with me.
But again she refused.
Sir William tried to persuade her.
‘Though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half hour.’
A smile lit her eyes, and turning towards me, she said:
‘Mr Darcy is all politeness.’
It was a challenging smile; there was no doubt about it. Although she said that I was all politeness, she meant the reverse. I felt my desire to dance with her grow. She had set herself up as my adversary, and I felt an instinct to conquer her rise up inside me.
Why had she refused me? Because she had overheard me saying that she wasn’t handsome enough to tempt me at the Meryton ball? Of course! I found myself admiring her spirit. My ten thousand pounds a year meant nothing to her when compared with her desire to be revenged on me.
I watched her walk away from me, noticing the lightness of her step and the trimness of her figure, and trying to remember the last time I had been so well pleased.
‘I can guess the subject of your reverie,’ said Caroline, coming up beside me.
‘I should imagine not,’ I said.
‘You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner, in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity and yet the noise; the nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!’
‘Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.’
Caroline smiled.
‘And what lady has the credit of inspiring such reflections?’ she asked, turning her gaze to my face.
‘Miss Elizabeth Bennet,’ I replied, as I watched her cross the room.
‘Miss Elizabeth Bennet!’ exclaimed she. ‘I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite?
And pray when am I to wish you joy?’
‘That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask,’ I told her. ‘A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy.’
‘Nay, if you are so serious about it, I shall consider the matter as absolutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed, and of course she will be always at Pemberley with you.’
I let her speak. It is matter of perfect indifference to me what she says. If I wish to admire Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I shall do so, and not all Caroline’s sallies on fine eyes and mothers-in-law will prevent me.
Bingley and I dined with the officers this evening. There is a regiment stationed here, and they are for the most part well-educated and intelligent men. When we returned to Netherfield we found Miss Bennet at the house. Caroline and Louisa had invited her to dine. She had ridden over on horseback, and an unlucky downpour had soaked her through. Not surprisingly, she had taken a chill.
Bingley was at once alarmed, insisting she should stay the night. His sisters concurred. She retired to bed early, and Bingley was distracted for the rest of the evening.
I was reminded of the fact that he is still only three-and-twenty, and so he is still at an unsettled age. He is presently concerned for Miss Bennet’s health, and yet by Christmas he will be in London, where he will no doubt forget all about her.
Miss Bennet was still unwell this morning, and Caroline and Louisa insisted she stay at Netherfield until she is full recovered. Whether they would have insisted quite so vehemently if they had not been bored is doubtful, but as the weather is poor, and there is nothing for them to do but stay indoors, they were eager to persuade her to remain.
Bingley insisted on sending for Mr Jones, the apothecary, as soon as he knew she was no better.
‘Is it really necessary?’ I asked him. ‘Your sisters seem to think it is nothing more than a sore throat and a headache.’
‘There is no telling where a sore throat and a headache might lead,’ said Bingley.
A note was dispatched to Mr Jones, and another to Miss Bennet’s family, and we settled down to breakfast.
We were still in the breakfast parlour some time later when there was a disturbance in the hall. Caroline and Louisa looked up from their cups of chocolate, turning enquiring glances on each other and then on their brother.
‘Who would come calling at this hour, and in this weather?’ asked Caroline.
Her question was soon answered as the door opened and Miss Elizabeth Bennet was shown in. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed. Her clothes showed signs of her walk, and her stout boots were covered in mud.
‘Miss Bennet!’ exclaimed Mr Hurst, looking at her as though she were an apparition.
‘Miss Bennet!’ echoed Caroline. ‘You have not come on foot?’ she asked, appalled, staring at her boots, and at her petticoats, which were six inches deep in mud.
‘Yes,’ she said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
‘To walk three miles so early in the day!’ said Caroline, with a horrified glance towards Louisa.
‘And in such dirty weather!’ exclaimed Louisa, returning her look.
Bingley was troubled by no such astonishment.
‘Miss Elizabeth Bennet, how good of you to come,’ he said, jumping up and shaking her by the hand. ‘Your sister is very ill, I fear.’
Caroline had by now recovered from her astonishment.
‘Really, Charles, do not distress her,’ she said. She turned to Miss Bennet. ‘It is nothing but a headache and a sore throat. She did not sleep very well, but she has risen this morning. She is feverish, though, and she is not well enough to leave her room.’
‘You must be cold and wet,’ said Bingley, glancing at Elizabeth with concern.
‘It is nothing. I often walk out in the morning. The cold and the wet do not trouble me. Where is Jane? Can I see her?’
‘Of course,’ said Bingley. ‘I will take you to her at once.’
I could not help thinking of the brilliance the exercise had given to her complexion, although I wondered whether she should have walked so far alone. If her sister had been dangerously ill, perhaps, but for a cold?
Charles left the room with Miss Bennet. Caroline and Louisa, feeling it incumbent upon them as hostesses to go too, followed them. Bingley soon returned, leaving his sisters in the sick room.
‘We ought to be leaving,’ I said, glancing at the clock.
We had arranged to meet some of the officers for a game of billiards. I could tell that Bingley did not want to go, but I persuaded him that he would make himself ridiculous if he remained indoors because his sister’s friend had a cold. He looked as though he was about to protest, but he has a habit of listening to me and took my advice. I am glad of it. Colonel Forster would have thought it very odd if he had cancelled the engagement on so slight a pretext.