“I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy.”
“We are not in a way to know _what_ Mr. Bingley likes,” said her
mother resentfully, “since we are not to visit.”
“But you forget, mamma,” said Elizabeth, “that we shall meet him
at the assemblies, and that Mrs. Long promised to introduce him.”
“I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two
nieces of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I
have no opinion of her.”
“No more have I,” said Mr. Bennet; “and I am glad to find that
you do not depend on her serving you.”
Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply, but, unable to contain
herself, began scolding one of her daughters.
“Don’t keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven’s sake! Have a little
compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces.”
“Kitty has no discretion in her coughs,” said her father; “she
times them ill.”
“I do not cough for my own amusement,” replied Kitty fretfully.
“When is your next ball to be, Lizzy?”
“To-morrow fortnight.”
“Aye, so it is,” cried her mother, “and Mrs. Long does not come
back till the day before; so it will be impossible for her to
introduce him, for she will not know him herself.”
“Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and
introduce Mr. Bingley to _her_.”
“Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted
with him myself; how can you be so teasing?”
“I honour your circumspection. A fortnight’s acquaintance is
certainly very little. One cannot know what a man really is by
the end of a fortnight. But if _we_ do not venture somebody else
will; and after all, Mrs. Long and her nieces must stand their
chance; and, therefore, as she will think it an act of kindness,
if you decline the office, I will take it on myself.”
The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only,
“Nonsense, nonsense!”
“What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?” cried he.
“Do you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that
is laid on them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you
_there_. What say you, Mary? For you are a young lady of deep
reflection, I know, and read great books and make extracts.”
Mary wished to say something sensible, but knew not how.
“While Mary is adjusting her ideas,” he continued, “let us return
to Mr. Bingley.”
“I am sick of Mr. Bingley,” cried his wife.
“I am sorry to hear _that_; but why did not you tell me that
before? If I had known as much this morning I certainly would not
have called on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually
paid the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance now.”
The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished; that of
Mrs. Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though, when the first
tumult of joy was over, she began to declare that it was what she
had expected all the while.
“How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should
persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to
neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it is
such a good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning and
never said a word about it till now.”
“Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose,” said Mr.
Bennet; and, as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the
raptures of his wife.
“What an excellent father you have, girls!” said she, when the
door was shut. “I do not know how you will ever make him amends
for his kindness; or me, either, for that matter. At our time of
life it is not so pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new
acquaintances every day; but for your sakes, we would do
anything. Lydia, my love, though you _are_ the youngest, I dare
say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next ball.”
“Oh!” said Lydia stoutly, “I am not afraid; for though I _am_ the
youngest, I’m the tallest.”
The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he
would return Mr. Bennet’s visit, and determining when they should
ask him to dinner.
Chapter 3
Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her
five daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw
from her husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley.
They attacked him in various ways—with barefaced questions,
ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the
skill of them all, and they were at last obliged to accept the
second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her
report was highly favourable. Sir William had been delighted with
him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely
agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next
assembly with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To
be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love;
and very lively hopes of Mr. Bingley’s heart were entertained.
“If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at
Netherfield,” said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, “and all the
others equally well married, I shall have nothing to wish for.”
In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet’s visit, and sat
about ten minutes with him in his library. He had entertained
hopes of being admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose
beauty he