Alone with her aunt

Mrs. Gardiner's caution to Elizabeth was punctually and kindly given on the first favourable opportunity of speaking to her alone; after honestly telling her what she thought, she thus went on:

Be on your guard

"You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love merely because you are warned against it; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speaking openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve yourself, or endeavour to involve him in an affection which the want of fortune would make so very imprudent. I have nothing to say against him; he is a most interesting young man; and if he had the fortune he ought to have, I should think you could not do better. But as it is—you must not let your fancy run away with you. You have sense, and we all expect you to use it. Your father would depend on your resolution and good conduct, I am sure. You must not disappoint your father."

Serious indeed

"My dear aunt, this is being serious indeed."

Not serious now

"Well, then, you need not be under any alarm. I will take care of myself, and of Mr. Wickham too. He shall not be in love with me, if I can prevent it."

Not in love with him

"I beg your pardon. I will try again. At present I am not in love with Mr. Wickham; no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison, the most agreeable man I ever saw—and if he becomes really attached to me—I believe it will be better that he should not. I see the imprudence of it.—Oh! that abominable Mr. Darcy!—My father's opinion of me does me the greatest honour; and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My father, however, is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dear aunt, I should be very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy; but since we see every day that where there is affection, young people are seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune, from entering into engagements with each other, how can I promise to be wiser than so many of my fellow creatures if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that it would be wisdom to resist? All that I can promise you, therefore, is not to be in a hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his first object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing. In short, I will do my best."

Hands in the lap

"I beg your pardon. I will try again. At present I am not in love with Mr. Wickham; no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison, the most agreeable man I ever saw—and if he becomes really attached to me—I believe it will be better that he should not. I see the imprudence of it.—Oh! that abominable Mr. Darcy!—My father's opinion of me does me the greatest honour; and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My father, however, is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dear aunt, I should be very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy; but since we see every day that where there is affection, young people are seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune, from entering into engagements with each other, how can I promise to be wiser than so many of my fellow creatures if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that it would be wisdom to resist? All that I can promise you, therefore, is not to be in a hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his first object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing. In short, I will do my best."

The aunt listens

"I beg your pardon. I will try again. At present I am not in love with Mr. Wickham; no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison, the most agreeable man I ever saw—and if he becomes really attached to me—I believe it will be better that he should not. I see the imprudence of it.—Oh! that abominable Mr. Darcy!—My father's opinion of me does me the greatest honour; and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My father, however, is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dear aunt, I should be very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy; but since we see every day that where there is affection, young people are seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune, from entering into engagements with each other, how can I promise to be wiser than so many of my fellow creatures if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that it would be wisdom to resist? All that I can promise you, therefore, is not to be in a hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his first object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing. In short, I will do my best."

Do not remind your mother

"Perhaps it will be as well, if you discourage his coming here so very often. At least, you should not remind your Mother of inviting him."

A conscious smile

"As I did the other day," said Elizabeth, with a conscious smile; "very true, it will be wise in me to refrain from that. But do not imagine that he is always here so often. It is on your account that he has been so frequently invited this week. You know my mother's ideas as to the necessity of constant company for her friends. But really, and upon my honour, I will try to do what I think to be wisest; and now, I hope you are satisfied."

Advice not resented

Her aunt assured her that she was; and Elizabeth having thanked her for the kindness of her hints, they parted; a wonderful instance of advice being given on such a point, without being resented.

Wished they might be happy

Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshire soon after it had been quitted by the Gardiners and Jane; but as he took up his abode with the Lucases, his arrival was no great inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. His marriage was now fast approaching, and she was at length so far resigned as to think it inevitable, and even repeatedly to say in an ill-natured tone that she "wished they might be happy." Thursday was to be the wedding day, and on Wednesday Miss Lucas paid her farewell visit; and when she rose to take leave, Elizabeth, ashamed of her mother's ungracious and reluctant good wishes, and sincerely affected herself, accompanied her out of the room. As they went down stairs together, Charlotte said,

Down the stairs together

"I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Eliza."

Come to Hunsford

"I am not likely to leave Kent for some time. Promise me, therefore, to come to Hunsford."

She could not refuse

Elizabeth could not refuse, though she foresaw little pleasure in the visit.

Toward the door

"My father and Maria are to come to me in March," added Charlotte, "and I hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, you will be as welcome to me as either of them."

Letters from Hunsford

The wedding took place; the bride and bridegroom set off for Kent from the church door, and every body had as much to say or to hear on the subject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend; and their correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; that it should be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth could never address her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over, and, though determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for the sake of what had been, rather than what was. Charlotte's first letters were received with a good deal of eagerness; there could not but be curiosity to know how she would speak of her new home, how she would like Lady Catherine, and how happy she would dare pronounce herself to be; though, when the letters were read, Elizabeth felt that Charlotte expressed herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighbourhood, and roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine's behaviour was most friendly and obliging. It was Mr. Collins's picture of Hunsford and Rosings rationally softened; and Elizabeth perceived that she must wait for her own visit there, to know the rest.

Rationally softened

The wedding took place; the bride and bridegroom set off for Kent from the church door, and every body had as much to say or to hear on the subject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend; and their correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; that it should be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth could never address her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over, and, though determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for the sake of what had been, rather than what was. Charlotte's first letters were received with a good deal of eagerness; there could not but be curiosity to know how she would speak of her new home, how she would like Lady Catherine, and how happy she would dare pronounce herself to be; though, when the letters were read, Elizabeth felt that Charlotte expressed herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighbourhood, and roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine's behaviour was most friendly and obliging. It was Mr. Collins's picture of Hunsford and Rosings rationally softened; and Elizabeth perceived that she must wait for her own visit there, to know the rest.

Jane's second letter

Her impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as impatience generally is. Jane had been a week in town, without either seeing or hearing from Caroline. She accounted for it, however, by supposing that her last letter to her friend from Longbourn, had by some accident been lost.

Jane's hopeful pages

She wrote again when the visit was paid, and she had seen Miss Bingley. "I did not think Caroline in spirits," were her words, "but she was very glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming to London. I was right, therefore; my last letter had never reached her. I enquired after their brother, of course. He was well, but so much engaged with Mr. Darcy, that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that Miss Darcy was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was not long, as Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I dare say I shall soon see them here."

She shook her head

Elizabeth shook her head over this letter. It convinced her, that accident only could discover to Mr. Bingley her sister's being in town.

Four weeks later

Four weeks passed away, and Jane saw nothing of him. She endeavoured to persuade herself that she did not regret it; but she could no longer be blind to Miss Bingley's inattention. After waiting at home every morning for a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh excuse for her, the visitor did at last appear; but the shortness of her stay, and yet more, the alteration of her manner, would allow Jane to deceive herself no longer. The letter which she wrote on this occasion to her sister, will prove what she felt.

Entirely deceived

"My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in
her better judgment, at my expence, when I confess myself to have
been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me. But, my
dear sister, though the event has proved you right, do not think me
obstinate if I still assert, that, considering what her behaviour
was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at
all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate with me, but
if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should
be deceived again. Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday;
and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the mean time. When
she did come, it was very evident that she had no pleasure in it;
she made a slight, formal, apology, for not calling before, said
not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in every respect so
altered a creature, that when she went away, I was perfectly
resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, though I
cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out as
she did; I can safely say, that every advance to intimacy began on
her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been
acting wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her
brother is the cause of it. I need not explain myself farther; and
though we know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she
feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour to me; and so
deservedly dear as he is to his sister, whatever anxiety she may
feel on his behalf, is natural and amiable. I cannot but wonder,
however, at her having any such fears now, because, if he had at
all cared about me, we must have met long, long ago. He knows of my
being in town, I am certain, from something she said herself; and
yet it should seem by her manner of talking, as if she wanted to
persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I cannot
understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should
be almost tempted to say, that there is a strong appearance of
duplicity in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful
thought, and think only of what will make me happy, your affection,
and the invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear
from you very soon. Miss Bingley said something of his never
returning to Netherfield again, of giving up the house, but not
with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely
glad that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at
Hunsford. Pray go to see them, with Sir William and Maria. I am
sure you will be very comfortable there.

Pity and blame

"My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in
her better judgment, at my expence, when I confess myself to have
been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me. But, my
dear sister, though the event has proved you right, do not think me
obstinate if I still assert, that, considering what her behaviour
was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at
all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate with me, but
if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should
be deceived again. Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday;
and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the mean time. When
she did come, it was very evident that she had no pleasure in it;
she made a slight, formal, apology, for not calling before, said
not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in every respect so
altered a creature, that when she went away, I was perfectly
resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, though I
cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out as
she did; I can safely say, that every advance to intimacy began on
her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been
acting wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her
brother is the cause of it. I need not explain myself farther; and
though we know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she
feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour to me; and so
deservedly dear as he is to his sister, whatever anxiety she may
feel on his behalf, is natural and amiable. I cannot but wonder,
however, at her having any such fears now, because, if he had at
all cared about me, we must have met long, long ago. He knows of my
being in town, I am certain, from something she said herself; and
yet it should seem by her manner of talking, as if she wanted to
persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I cannot
understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should
be almost tempted to say, that there is a strong appearance of
duplicity in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful
thought, and think only of what will make me happy, your affection,
and the invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear
from you very soon. Miss Bingley said something of his never
returning to Netherfield again, of giving up the house, but not
with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely
glad that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at
Hunsford. Pray go to see them, with Sir William and Maria. I am
sure you will be very comfortable there.

Duplicity

"My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in
her better judgment, at my expence, when I confess myself to have
been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me. But, my
dear sister, though the event has proved you right, do not think me
obstinate if I still assert, that, considering what her behaviour
was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at
all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate with me, but
if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should
be deceived again. Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday;
and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the mean time. When
she did come, it was very evident that she had no pleasure in it;
she made a slight, formal, apology, for not calling before, said
not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in every respect so
altered a creature, that when she went away, I was perfectly
resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, though I
cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out as
she did; I can safely say, that every advance to intimacy began on
her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been
acting wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her
brother is the cause of it. I need not explain myself farther; and
though we know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she
feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour to me; and so
deservedly dear as he is to his sister, whatever anxiety she may
feel on his behalf, is natural and amiable. I cannot but wonder,
however, at her having any such fears now, because, if he had at
all cared about me, we must have met long, long ago. He knows of my
being in town, I am certain, from something she said herself; and
yet it should seem by her manner of talking, as if she wanted to
persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I cannot
understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should
be almost tempted to say, that there is a strong appearance of
duplicity in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful
thought, and think only of what will make me happy, your affection,
and the invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear
from you very soon. Miss Bingley said something of his never
returning to Netherfield again, of giving up the house, but not
with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely
glad that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at
Hunsford. Pray go to see them, with Sir William and Maria. I am
sure you will be very comfortable there.

Yours, etc.

"Your's, &c."

No longer duped

This letter gave Elizabeth some pain; but her spirits returned as she considered that Jane would no longer be duped, by the sister at least. All expectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would not even wish for any renewal of his attentions. His character sunk on every review of it; and as a punishment for him, as well as a possible advantage to Jane, she seriously hoped he might really soon marry Mr. Darcy's sister, as, by Wickham's account, she would make him abundantly regret what he had thrown away.

Her answer to her aunt

Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Elizabeth of her promise concerning that gentleman, and required information; and Elizabeth had such to send as might rather give contentment to her aunt than to herself. His apparent partiality had subsided, his attentions were over, he was the admirer of some one else. Elizabeth was watchful enough to see it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain. Her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied with believing that she would have been his only choice, had fortune permitted it. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most remarkable charm of the young lady, to whom he was now rendering himself agreeable; but Elizabeth, less clear-sighted perhaps in his case than in Charlotte's, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence. Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and while able to suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very sincerely wish him happy.

Only slightly touched

Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Elizabeth of her promise concerning that gentleman, and required information; and Elizabeth had such to send as might rather give contentment to her aunt than to herself. His apparent partiality had subsided, his attentions were over, he was the admirer of some one else. Elizabeth was watchful enough to see it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain. Her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied with believing that she would have been his only choice, had fortune permitted it. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most remarkable charm of the young lady, to whom he was now rendering himself agreeable; but Elizabeth, less clear-sighted perhaps in his case than in Charlotte's, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence. Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and while able to suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very sincerely wish him happy.

Never much in love

All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner; and after relating the circumstances, she thus went on:—"I am now convinced, my dear aunt, that I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name, and wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial towards him; they are even impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My watchfulness has been effectual; and though I should certainly be a more interesting object to all my acquaintance, were I distractedly in love with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance. Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Kitty and Lydia take his defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on, as well as the plain."

The letter sealed

All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner; and after relating the circumstances, she thus went on:—"I am now convinced, my dear aunt, that I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name, and wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial towards him; they are even impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My watchfulness has been effectual; and though I should certainly be a more interesting object to all my acquaintance, were I distractedly in love with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance. Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Kitty and Lydia take his defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on, as well as the plain."