Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice (1813)

CHAPTER I.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a
good fortune must be in want of a wife.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first
entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the
surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some
one or other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that
Netherfield Park is let at last?”

Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.

“But it is,” returned she; “for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told
me all about it.”

Mr. Bennet made no answer.

“Do not you want to know who has taken it?” cried his wife, impatiently.

“_You_ want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.”

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This was invitation enough.

“Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by a
young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down on
Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much delighted with
it that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take possession
before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the house by the
end of next week.”

“What is his name?”

“Bingley.”

“Is he married or single?”

“Oh, single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or
five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!”

“How so? how can it affect them?”

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” replied his wife, “how can you be so tiresome? You
must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.”

“Is that his design in settling here?”

“Design? Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he _may_
fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as
he comes.”

“I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go—or you may send them
by themselves, which perhaps will be still better; for as you are as
handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley might like you the best of the party.”

“My dear, you flatter me. I certainly _have_ had my share of beauty, but I
do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five
grown-up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty.”

“In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of.”

“But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into the
neighbourhood.”

“It is more than I engage for, I assure you.”

“But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would be
for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go, merely on
that account; for in general, you know, they visit no new comers. Indeed you
must go, for it will be impossible for _us_ to visit him, if you do not.”

“You are over scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very glad
to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty
consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls—though I must
throw in a good word for my little Lizzy.”

“I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the
others: and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good-
humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving _her_ the preference.”

“They have none of them much to recommend them,” replied he: “they are all
silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of
quickness than her sisters.”

“Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take
delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves.”

“You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my
old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty
years at least.”

“Ah, you do not know what I suffer.”

“But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four
thousand a year come into the neighbourhood.”

“It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not
visit them.”

“Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them
all.”

Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve,
and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been
insufficient to make his wife understand his character. _Her_ mind was less
difficult to develope. She was a woman of mean understanding, little
information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied
herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married:
its solace was visiting and news.

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CHAPTER II.

Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He had
always intended to visit him, though to the last always assuring his wife
that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit was paid she had
no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in the following manner. Observing
his second daughter employed in trimming a hat, he suddenly addressed her
with,—

“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 has 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.”

“Ay, 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 very 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 you not tell me so 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 III.

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 had heard much; but he
saw only the father. The ladies were somewhat more fortunate, for they had
the advantage of ascertaining, from an upper window, that he wore a blue
coat and rode a black horse.

An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards despatched; and already had Mrs.
Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to her housekeeping, when
an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley was obliged to be in
town the following day, and consequently unable to accept the honour of
their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite disconcerted. She could not
imagine what business he could have in town so soon after his arrival in
Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that he might always be flying about
from one place to another, and never settled at Netherfield as he ought to
be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears a little by starting the idea of his

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being gone to London only to get a large party for the ball; and a report
soon followed that Mr. Bingley was to bring twelve ladies and seven
gentlemen with him to the assembly. The girls grieved over such a number of
ladies; but were comforted the day before the ball by hearing that, instead
of twelve, he had brought only six with him from London, his five sisters
and a cousin. And when the party entered the assembly-room, it consisted of
only five altogether: Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the
eldest, and another young man.

Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike: he had a pleasant
countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, with
an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely looked 