"Had you then persuaded yourself that I should?"
"Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be wishing,
expecting my addresses."
"My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure you. I never
meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong. How you must have
hated me after that evening?"
"Hate you! I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take a proper
"I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me, when we met at Pemberley.
You blamed me for coming?"
"No indeed; I felt nothing but surprise."
"Your surprise could not be greater than mine in being noticed by you. My conscience
told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I confess that I did not
expect to receive more than my due."
"My object then," replied Darcy, "was to shew you, by every civility in my
power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past; and I hoped to obtain your
forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you see that your reproofs had
been attended to. How soon any other wishes introduced themselves I can hardly tell,
but I believe in about half an hour after I had seen you."
He then told her of Georgiana's delight in her acquaintance, and of her disappointment
at its sudden interruption; which naturally leading to the cause of that interruption,
she soon learnt that his resolution of following her from Derbyshire in quest of
her sister had been formed before he quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thoughtfulness
there had arisen from no other struggles than what such a purpose must comprehend.
She expressed her gratitude again, but it was too painful a subject to each,
to be dwelt on farther.
After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to know any thing
about it, they found at last, on examining their watches, that it was time to be
"What could become of Mr. Bingley and Jane!" was a wonder which introduced the
discussion of their affairs. Darcy was delighted with their engagement; his friend
had given him the earliest information of it.
"I must ask whether you were surprised?" said Elizabeth.
"Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen."
"That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much." And though
he exclaimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty much the case.
"On the evening before my going to London," said he, "I made a confession to
him, which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I told him of all that had occurred
to make my former interference in his affairs absurd and impertinent. His surprise
was great. He had never had the slightest suspicion.
I told him, moreover, that I believed myself mistaken in supposing, as I had
done, that your sister was indifferent to him; and as I could easily perceive that
his attachment to her was unabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness together."
Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing his friend.
"Did you speak from your own observation," said she, "when you told him that
my sister loved him, or merely from my information last spring?"
"From the former. I had narrowly observed her during the two visits which I had
lately made here; and I was convinced of her affection."
"And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to him."
"It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. His diffidence had prevented his
depending on his own judgment in so anxious a case, but his reliance on mine made
every thing easy. I was obliged to confess one thing, which for a time, and not
unjustly, offended him. I could not allow myself to conceal that your sister had
been in town three months last winter, that I had known it, and purposely kept it
from him. He was angry. But his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he
remained in any doubt of your sister's sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me now."
Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley had been a most delightful friend;
so easily guided that his worth was invaluable; but she checked herself. She remembered
that he had yet to learn to be laughed at, and it was rather too early to begin.
In anticipating the happiness of Bingley, which of course was to be inferior only
to his own, he continued the conversation till they reached the house. In the hall
<CHAPTER XVII (59)>
"My dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?" was a question which Elizabeth
received from Jane as soon as she entered their room, and from all the others when
they sat down to table. She had only to say in reply, that they had wandered about,
till she was beyond her own knowledge. She coloured as she spoke; but neither that,
nor any thing else, awakened a suspicion of the truth.
The evening passed quietly, unmarked by any thing extraordinary. The acknowledged
lovers talked and laughed, the unacknowledged were silent. Darcy was not of a disposition
in which happiness overflows in mirth; and Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather
knew that she was happy than felt herself to be so; for, besides the immediate
embarrassment, there were other evils before her. She anticipated what would be
felt in the family when her situation became known; she was aware that no one liked
him but Jane; and even feared that with the others it was a dislike which not
all his fortune and consequence might do away.
At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far from Miss
Bennet's general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here.
"You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be! -- engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, you
shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible."
"This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and I am
sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am in earnest. I
speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are engaged."
Jane looked at her doubtingly. "Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be.
I know how much you dislike him."
"You know nothing of the matter. That is all to be forgot.
Perhaps I did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as these,
a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself."
Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more seriously assured
her of its truth.
"Good Heaven! can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you," cried Jane. "My
dear, dear Lizzy, I would -- I do congratulate you -- but are you certain? forgive
the question -- are you quite certain that you can be happy with him?"
"There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that we are
to be the happiest couple in the world.
But are you pleased, Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?"
"Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more delight. But
we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you really love him quite
Oh, Lizzy! do any thing rather than marry without affection.
Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought to do?"
"Oh, yes! You will only think I feel more than I ought to do, when I tell you
"What do you mean?"
"Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley.
I am afraid you will be angry."
"My dearest sister, now be serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let me know
every thing that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell me how long you have
"It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. But I
believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds at Pemberley."
Another intreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the desired effect;
and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of attachment. When convinced
on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing farther to wish.
"Now I am quite happy," said she, "for you will be as happy as myself. I always
had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I must always have
esteemed him; but now, as Bingley's friend and your husband, there can be only Bingley
and yourself more dear to me. But Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with
me. How little did you tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all
that I know of it to another, not to you."
Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling to mention
Bingley; and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made her equally avoid
the name of his friend.
But now she would no longer conceal from her his share in Lydia's marriage. All
was acknowledged, and half the night spent in conversation.
"Good gracious!" cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next morning,
"if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with our dear Bingley!
What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always coming here? I had no notion
but he would go a-shooting, or something or other, and not disturb us with his company.
What shall we do with him? Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may
not be in Bingley's way."
Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yet was really
vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an epithet.