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- father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Philips,
appears to do so much credit to; but he gave up everything to be of use
to the late Mr. Darcy, and devoted all his time to the care of the
Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most
intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself to
be under the greatest obligations to my father’s active superintendence;
and when, immediately before my father’s death, Mr. Darcy gave him a
voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it
to be as much a debt of gratitude to _him_ as of affection to myself.”
“How strange!” cried Elizabeth. “How abominable! I wonder that the very
pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you. If from no better
motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest,--for
dishonesty I must call it.”
“It _is_ wonderful,” replied Wickham; “for almost all his actions may be
traced to pride; and pride has often been his best friend. It has
connected him nearer with virtue than any other feeling. But we are none
of us consistent; and in his behaviour to me there were stronger
impulses even than pride.”
“Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?”
“Yes; it has often led him to be liberal and generous; to give his money
freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the
poor. Family pride, and _filial_ pride, for he is very proud of what his
father was, have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, to
degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the
Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also _brotherly_ pride,
which, with _some_ brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and
careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up
as the most attentive and best of brothers.”
“What sort of a girl is Miss Darcy?”
He shook his head. “I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to
speak ill of a Darcy; but she is too much like her brother,--very, very
proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond
of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is
nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen,
and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father’s death her
home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her
education.”
After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not
help reverting once more to the first, and saying,--
“I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley. How can Mr. Bingley,
who seems good-humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable,
be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? Do you
know Mr. Bingley?”
“Not at all.”
“He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Mr.
Darcy is.”
“Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not
want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth
his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is a
very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His pride
never deserts him; but with the rich he is liberal-minded, just,
sincere, rational, honourable, and, perhaps, agreeable,--allowing
something for fortune and figure.”
The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round
the other table, and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin
Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips. The usual inquiries as to his success were
made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every point;
but when Mrs. Philips began to express her concern thereupon, he assured
her, with much earnest gravity, that it was not of the least importance;
that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged she would not
make herself uneasy.
“I know very well, madam,” said he, “that when persons sit down to a
card table they must take their chance of these things,--and happily I
am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There
are, undoubtedly, many who could not say the same; but, thanks to Lady
Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding
little matters.”
Mr. Wickham’s attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for
a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relations
were very intimately acquainted with the family of De Bourgh.
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” she replied, “has very lately given him a
living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her
notice, but he certainly has not known her long.”
“You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy
were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy.”
“No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine’s
connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before
yesterday.”
“Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is
believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates.”
This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor Miss
Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless her
affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were already
self-destined to another.
“Mr. Collins,” said she, “speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her
daughter; but, from some particulars that he has related of her
Ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him; and that, in spite of
her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman.”
“I believe her to be both in a great degree,” replied Wickham; “I have
not seen her for many years; but I very well remember that I never liked
her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the
reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe
she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from
her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew, who
chooses that everyone connected with him should have an understanding of
the first class.”
Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it, and
they continued talking together with mutual satisfaction till supper put
an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr.
Wickham’s attentions. There could be no conversation in the noise of
Mrs. Philips’s supper party, but his manners recommended him to
everybody. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done
gracefully. Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. She could
think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all
the way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name as
they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. Lydia
talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the
fish she had won; and Mr. Collins, in describing the civility of Mr. and
Mrs. Philips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses
at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing
that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage
before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House.
[Illustration:
“delighted to see their dear friend again”
]
CHAPTER XVII.
[Illustration]
Elizabeth related to Jane, the next day, what had passed between Mr.
Wickham and herself. Jane listened with astonishment and concern: she
knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be so unworthy of Mr.
Bingley’s regard; and yet it was not in her nature to question the
veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham.