Mr. Darcy's Diary

‘That is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman,’ she said, looking at me, ‘seemed to think the country was nothing at all.’

Elizabeth had the goodness to blush, and tell her mother she was quite mistaken, but I was forcibly reminded of the fact that no amount of blushes, however pleasing, can overcome the disadvantage of such a mother.

Mrs Bennet grew worse and worse, praising Sir William Lucas’s manners, and making veiled references to ‘persons who find themselves very important and never open their mouths’ by which, I suppose, she meant me.

Worse was to come. The youngest girl stepped forward and begged Bingley for a ball. He is so goodhumoured that he readily agreed, after which Mrs Bennet and her two youngest daughters departed. Elizabeth returned to her sister’s sick room.

Caroline was merciless once she had left.

‘They dine with four-and-twenty families!’ she said. ‘I don’t know how I stopped myself from laughing! And the poor woman thinks that is a varied society.’

‘I never heard anything more ridiculous in all my life,’ said Louisa.

‘Or vulgar,’ said Caroline. ‘And the youngest girl! Begging for a ball. I cannot believe you encouraged her, Charles.’

‘But I like giving balls,’ protested Bingley.

‘You should not have rewarded her impertinence,’ said Louisa.

‘No, indeed. You will only make her worse. Though how she could become any worse I do not know. Kitty was dreadful enough, but the youngest girl – what was her name?’

‘Lydia,’ supplied Louisa.

‘Lydia! Of course, that was it! To be so forward. You would not like your sister to be so forward, I am persuaded, Mr Darcy.’

‘No, I would not,’ I said, ill pleased.

To compare Georgiana to such a girl was beyond anything I could tolerate.

‘And yet they are the same age,’ went on Caroline. ‘It is incredible how two girls can be so different, the one so elegant and refined, and the other so brash and noisy.’

‘It is their upbringing,’ said Louisa. ‘With such a low mother, how could Lydia be anything but vulgar?’

‘Those poor girls,’ said Caroline, shaking her head.

‘They are all touched with the same vulgarity, I fear.’

‘Not Miss Bennet!’ protested Bingley. ‘You said yourself she was a sweet girl.’

‘And so she is. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps she has escaped the taint of mixing with such people. But Elizabeth Bennet is inclined to be pert, even though she does have fine eyes,’ said Caroline, turning her gaze towards me.

I had been about to dismiss Elizabeth from my thoughts, but I changed my mind. I will not do so to please Miss Bingley, however satirical she may be.

In the evening, Elizabeth joined us in the drawing-room. I took care to say no more than a brief, ‘Good evening’, and then I took up a pen and began writing to Georgiana. Elizabeth, I noticed, took up some needlework at the far side of the room.

I had hardly begun my letter, however, when Caroline began to compliment me on the evenness of my handwriting and the length of my letter. I did my best to ignore her, but she was not to be dissuaded and continued to praise me at every turn. Flattery is all very well, but a man may tire of it as soon as curses. I said nothing, however, as I did not wish to offend Bingley.

‘How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!’ Caroline said.

I ignored her.

‘You write uncommonly fast.’

I was unwise enough to retaliate with, ‘You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.’

‘Pray tell your sister that I long to see her.’

‘I have already told her so once, by your desire.’

‘How can you contrive to write so even?’ she asked.

I swallowed my frustration and resumed my silence. A wet evening in the country is one of the worst evils I know, especially in restricted company, and if I replied I feared I would be rude.

‘Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp…’

Pray, whose letter is it? I nearly retorted, but stopped myself just in time.

‘... and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss Grantley’s.’

‘Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At present I have not room to do them justice.’

I saw Elizabeth smile at this, and bury her head in her needlework. She smiles readily, and I am beginning to find it infectious. I was almost tempted to smile myself.

Caroline, however, was not to be quelled.

‘Do you always write such charming long letters to her, Mr Darcy?’

‘They are generally long,’ I replied, not being able to avoid answering her question. ‘But whether always charming, it is not for me to determine.’

‘It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter, with ease, cannot write ill,’ she said.

‘That will not do for a compliment to Darcy,’ broke in Bingley,‘ because he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. Do you not, Darcy?’

‘My style of writing is very different from yours,’ I agreed.