for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head ached acutely.
Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment; nor were the other
ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had, in fact,
nothing to do elsewhere.
When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and
very unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage,
and she only wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane
testified such concern in parting with her, that Miss Bingley was
obliged to convert the offer of the chaise to an invitation to
remain at Netherfield for the present. Elizabeth most thankfully
consented, and a servant was dispatched to Longbourn to acquaint
the family with her stay and bring back a supply of clothes.
Chapter 8
At five o’clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half-past
six Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil enquiries
which then poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of
distinguishing the much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley’s, she
could not make a very favourable answer. Jane was by no means
better. The sisters, on hearing this, repeated three or four
times how much they were grieved, how shocking it was to have a
bad cold, and how excessively they disliked being ill themselves;
and then thought no more of the matter: and their indifference
towards Jane when not immediately before them restored Elizabeth
to the enjoyment of all her former dislike.
Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she
could regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Jane was
evident, and his attentions to herself most pleasing, and they
prevented her feeling herself so much an intruder as she believed
she was considered by the others. She had very little notice from
any but him. Miss Bingley was engrossed by Mr. Darcy, her sister
scarcely less so; and as for Mr. Hurst, by whom Elizabeth sat, he
was an indolent man, who lived only to eat, drink, and play at
cards; who, when he found her to prefer a plain dish to a ragout,
had nothing to say to her.
When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss
Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her
manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride
and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no beauty.
Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added:
“She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an
excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this
morning. She really looked almost wild.”
“She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance.
Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must _she_ be scampering
about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so
untidy, so blowsy!”
“Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches
deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been
let down to hide it not doing its office.”
“Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,” said Bingley; “but this
was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked
remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her
dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.”
“_You_ observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley;
“and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see _your
sister_ make such an exhibition.”
“Certainly not.”
“To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever
it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What
could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort
of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to
decorum.”
“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,”
said Bingley.
“I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley in a half
whisper, “that this adventure has rather affected your admiration
of her fine eyes.”
“Not at all,” he replied; “they were brightened by the exercise.”
A short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again:
“I have an excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet, she is really a
very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well
settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low
connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it.”
“I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in
Meryton.”
“Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside.”
“That is capital,” added her sister, and they both laughed
heartily.
“If they had uncles enough to fill _all_ Cheapside,” cried
Bingley, “it would not make them one jot less agreeable.”
“But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men
of any consideration in the world,” replied Darcy.
To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it
their hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at
the expense of their dear friend’s vulgar relations.
With a renewal of tenderness, however, they returned to her room
on leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till summoned to
coffee. She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not quit
her at all, till late in the evening, when she had the comfort of
seeing her sleep, and when it seemed to her rather right than
pleasant that she should go downstairs herself. On entering the
drawing-room she found the whole party at loo,