Mr. Darcy's Diary by Amanda Grange (books for students to read .txt) 📕

my daughter again before very long,’

he said.

He embarked on a rambling speech, extolling the

virtues of his daughter’s position. How long he would

have gone on if Mr Long had not called I do not know!

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When our guests had left, Bingley said:‘It was after Sir

William called last year that Mr Bennet called on us. Do

you suppose he will do so again?’

I thought of Mr Bennet’s indolent habits and hesitated.

‘Perhaps I could call on the Bennets even without this

civility,’ suggested Bingley.

‘Wait and see whether he calls tomorrow,’ was my

advice.

Saturday 20th September

Mr Bennet did not call again yesterday, and this morning, Bingley made up his mind to visit Longbourn.

‘Come with me, Darcy,’ he said.

Telling myself I would go with him so that I could see

whether Miss Bennet had any regard for him, I agreed,

but my real reason was to see Elizabeth. I was as eager to

see her as Bingley was to see her sister, and I was just as

apprehensive about it.

We set out. Bingley was silent, and I too was lost in

my thoughts, wondering how I should be received. If

Elizabeth resented me for being the cause of Lydia’s

ruin I could hardly blame her, more particularly

because she did not know that I had helped to set

matters to rights.

I had been particularly concerned that she should not

know. I did not want her gratitude. If she had developed

any tender feelings for me I wanted to know they sprang

from love, and nothing else.

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We arrived. The servant showed us in. I immediately

saw Elizabeth drop her gaze, embarrassed, and busy herself with her needlework. What did it mean? I wished I

knew. Did it mean she was alive to the awkwardness of

the situation, or did it mean that she could not bear to

look at me?

‘Why, Mr Bingley!’ cried Mrs Bennet, jumping up

with a smile. ‘How delightful to see you at Longbourn

again. We have missed you.You quit us in such a hurry

last year you did not have time to say goodbye! I hope

you will not be thinking of leaving us again so quickly?’

‘No, I hope not,’ said Bingley, looking at Miss Bennet.

I observed her smile, and drop her gaze. She, at least, I

could understand, and it was clear that Bingley’s hopes

would not be disappointed.

‘And Mr Darcy,’ said Mrs Bennet in an ill-humoured

voice, turning to me.

I took no notice of her humour, and I found it difficult to believe that only a few months ago I had thought

it a reason for not proposing to Elizabeth. What did it

matter if her mother was silly and vulgar? I did not want

to marry Mrs Bennet.

I could not take a seat next to Elizabeth, her younger

sisters being by, but I asked her how her aunt and uncle

did. She replied sensibly, but then turned her attention

back to her work.

Outwardly I was calm. Inwardly, I was otherwise, but I

could do nothing. I was not close enough to Elizabeth to

continue the conversation without it seeming particular,

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and what could I say to her, under her mother’s eye, that

I wanted to say?

To distract my thoughts, I looked at Miss Bennet and

wondered how I could not have seen her partiality for

Bingley last year. Her feelings for him were there in every

gesture, and every look and every smile. Had I blinded

myself, wanting Bingley to marry Georgiana? I wondered. I had not thought so at the time, but I realized

now that I had.

I glanced again at Elizabeth, wishing I could read her

mind.

After a time, she said: ‘Miss Darcy is well, I hope?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ I said, glad to hear the sound of her

voice.

There was chance for nothing more. Her mother

began talking of Lydia’s wedding. Elizabeth would not

look up. Did she know that I had been involved? But no,

I am sure she did not. I had sworn the Gardiners to

secrecy, and I knew they would not betray me. Her confusion came from the subject, knowing what she does

about my relations with Wickham.

‘It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter

well married,’ said Mrs Bennet, a speech that would have

revolted me a few months before, but which now left no

impression. I care nothing for Mrs Bennet. Let her be the

silliest woman in Christendom if she chooses. It will not

prevent me marrying Elizabeth, if she will have me.

Mrs Bennet continued to talk of Wickham, saying he

had gone into the regulars, and adding: ‘Thank Heaven!

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He has some friends, though perhaps not so many as he

deserves.’

Elizabeth’s face was a fiery red, and her eyes sparkled

with mortification. How I wanted to help her! But how

I thought the colour became her.

She did, at last, raise her head and speak.

‘Do you mean to stay in the country, Mr Bingley?’ she

asked.

I wished I was Bingley at that moment, so that she had

spoken to me. Why did she favour my friend? Why

would she not look at me? Did she not wish to? I was in

misery.

At last the visit drew to an end. I would have stayed

all day if I could, but it was impossible.

‘You will come to dine with us on Tuesday, I hope, Mr

Bingley?’ said Mrs Bennet as we rose to leave. She turned

cold eyes to me, adding unwelcomingly:‘And Mr Darcy.’

What did I care for her manner? I was to see Elizabeth again.

The next meeting will surely tell me whether she has

any feelings for me, whether she can forgive me the

grievous wrongs I have done her family and whether she

can love me.

I will be in torment until I know.

Sunday 21st September

‘I thought Miss Bennet looked well last night,’ said Bingley to me this morning.

‘She did.’

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