– that is because you have the right disposition. [Looking at Darcy.] But that gentleman seemed to think the country was nothing at all.
[Quickly.] Indeed, mamma, you are mistaken. You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there is not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in town, which you must acknowledge to be true.
Certainly, my dear, nobody said there was – but as to not meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four-and-twenty families.
[As all become embarrassed at this speech, Bingley comes to the rescue.]
Yes, there are many fine estates hereabout. Can you see Sir William Lucas' place from the garden? I am not quite sure I have placed it.
Oh, yes, there is a fine view of the chimneys from the terrace. Sir William is our nearest neighbour. Such an agreeable man – so genteel, and so easy – [Rising, she goes toward the glass doors.] Come, Jane, we must show Mr. Bingley Sir William's chimneys.
[Mrs. Bennet, Bingley, and Jane go out upon the terrace.]
[Smiling mischievously.] Would not you also like to see the chimneys, Mr. Darcy?
Thank you. Like yourself, I prefer people to places.
Did I say that?
Not precisely. But I have drawn that conclusion.
[Gathering her sewing materials, begins to embroider.] Well, I can laugh at people better than places, and I dearly love a laugh.
Isn't that rather a dangerous trait, Miss Bennet? The wisest and the best of men may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.
Certainly. But I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. [Mischievously.] But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.
Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.
And in your list of weaknesses do you include such faults as vanity and pride, for instance?
Yes, vanity is a weakness, indeed, but pride, where there is a real superiority of mind – pride will be always under good regulation.
I am perfectly convinced, Mr. Darcy, that you have no defect.
I have made no such pretension, Miss Bennet. I have faults enough. My temper I dare not vouch for. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others against myself. My good opinion once lost is lost forever.
That is a failing, indeed. Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me.
There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil – a natural defect which not even the best education can overcome.
And your defect is a propensity to hate everybody.
[Smiling.] And yours to wilfully misunderstand them.
[Voices are heard outside. Elizabeth applies herself to her embroidery. Bingley, Jane, and Mrs. Bennet return from the terrace.]
The surrounding country is really charming, Mrs. Bennet.
We think so. But you must give us a ball at Netherfield, Mr. Bingley, and then you will see that some of the people who live here are worth knowing.
[Distressed.] Oh, mamma!
Mamma!
Certainly, Mrs. Bennet. I had already decided upon it. I told Mr. Darcy only yesterday that as soon as my sister, Miss Bingley, arrived, and Nicholas could make white soup enough, I should send out my cards. Did not I, Darcy?
[Very stiffly.] I believe you did.
Well, that is vastly good in you, Mr. Bingley; and then, perhaps, your friend may change his mind about the country. [To Darcy.] You didn't come to admire Sir William's chimneys, Mr. Darcy.
I was admiring your daughter's work, Madam.
Oh, you should see Jane's work. Lizzy is all for books, like her father. She is a great reader and has no pleasure in anything else. Jane, show your embroidered parrot to Mr. Bingley.
I do not think Mr. Bingley would be interested, ma'am.
[Eagerly.] Oh, indeed, I should, Miss Bennet; I am very much interested in parrots. – Pray show it to me.
Yes, and the new hand-screen. I will find it for you.
[All three withdraw, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy together.]
And so you are a great reader and take no pleasure in anything else?
Mamma does not understand. I deserve neither such praise nor such censure. I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.
So I should have thought.
[Looking at the screen which he holds in his hand.]
It is amazing to me how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they are; to think how you all paint tables and cover screens and net purses. It is quite wonderful.
Do you agree with your friend, Mr. Darcy?
His list of the common extent of accomplishments has too much truth. But I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen young ladies in the whole range of my acquaintance that are really accomplished.
Then you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.
Perhaps. To deserve the word, a woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages. She must also possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking – the tone of her voice – her address and expression, and to all this she must yet add something more substantial – [With a little bow to Elizabeth.] in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.
[Laughing.] I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six
