Mr. Darcy's Diary

‘I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder at your knowing any,’ said Miss Bennet with a laugh.

I should have been angered by her sauciness, but somehow I felt an answering smile spring into my eyes.

It seemed absurd, all of a sudden, that I should expect so much from the opposite sex, when a pair of fine eyes was all that was needed to bestow true happiness. It is a happiness I have never felt when listening to a woman sing or play the piano, and I doubt if I ever will.

‘Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the possibility of all this?’ asked Caroline.

‘I never saw such a woman,’ Miss Bennet replied. ‘I never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe, united.’

I began to wonder if I had ever seen it myself.

Caroline and Louisa rose to the challenge, declaring they knew many women who answered this description.

Miss Bennet bent her head, but not in acknowledgement of defeat. She did it so that they would not see the smile that was widening about her mouth.

It was only when I saw her smile that I realized they were contradicting their own earlier professions, when they had said that few such women existed. They were now saying that such women were commonplace. As I watched Miss Bennet’s smile spread to her eyes, I thought I had never liked her better, nor enjoyed a discussion more.

Mr Hurst called his wife and her sister to order, drawing their attention back to the game, and Miss Bennet returned to her sister’s sick room.

I realized that there is a strong bond of affection between her and her sister. I could not help thinking that Caroline and Louisa would not have been so eager to wait upon each other, if one of them had been ill; though they, too, are sisters, there seems to be very little affection between them. It is a pity. The affection of my sister is one of the greatest joys of my life.

‘Eliza Bennet,’ said Caroline, when Miss Bennet had left the room, ‘is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex, by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds.

But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.’

‘Undoubtedly, there is a meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation.

Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable.’

She retired from the lists, and retreated into her game.

I returned to my room at last, feeling dissatisfied with the day. My usual peace of mind had deserted me. I found myself thinking, not of what I was going to do tomorrow, but of Elizabeth Bennet.

Thursday 14th November

I have had a timely reminder of the folly of being carried away by a pair of fine eyes. Elizabeth sent a note to her mother this morning, requesting her to come and make her own judgement on Miss Bennet’s state of health.

After sitting a little while with her sick daughter, Mrs Bennet and her two younger daughters, who had accompanied her, accepted an invitation to join the rest of the party in the breakfast parlour.

‘I hope Miss Bennet is not worse than you expected,’ said Bingley.

He has been upset by the whole business, and nothing would comfort him but a constant string of instructions to the housekeeper, with the intention of increasing Miss Bennet’s comfort.

‘Indeed I have, sir,’ said Mrs Bennet. ‘She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness.’

‘Removed!’ cried Bingley. ‘It must not be thought of.’

Caroline did not seem pleased with his remark. I think the presence of an invalid in the house is beginning to irk her. She has spent very little time with her guest, and if Elizabeth had not come, her sister would have spent a very lonely time in a house of strangers.

Caroline replied civilly enough, however, saying that Miss Bennet would receive every attention.

Mrs Bennet impressed upon us all how ill her daughter was, and then, looking about her, remarked that Bingley had chosen well in renting Netherfield.

‘You will not think of quitting it in a hurry, I hope, though you have but a short lease,’ she said.

‘Whatever I do is done in a hurry,’ he said.

This led to a discussion of character, whereupon Elizabeth confessed herself to be a student of it.

‘The country can in general supply but few subjects for such a study,’ I said.

‘But people themselves alter so much that there is something new to be observed in them for ever,’ she returned.

Talking to Elizabeth is like talking to no one else. It is not a commonplace activity; rather it is a stimulating exercise for the mind.

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Mrs Bennet, startling us all. ‘I assure you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in the town. I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is it not, Mr Bingley?’

Bingley, as easy-going as ever, said that he was equally happy in either.