Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition) by Annabella Bloom
Authors: Annabella Bloom
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moving to take up Elizabeth’s arm once more. She held tighter to it than before and turned in their stroll so they walked away from the object of their musings. “Pray what is the result.”
“I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect.” As they moved, she tried not to be self-conscious. “He owns it himself without disguise.”
“No,” said Darcy, “I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but I hope they are not of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is too little yielding — certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot easily forgive the follies and vices of others, nor their offenses against me. My temper would perhaps be called resentful, and my good opinion once lost is lost forever.”
“That is a failing indeed,” agreed Elizabeth. They turned to face him, strolling back to where he sat. “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. Though it is an uncommon advantage, it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances for I dearly love a laugh.”
“There is in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil — a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome,” he said.
“And your defect is to hate everybody.”
“And yours,” he replied with a surprisingly bright smile, “is willfully to misunderstand them.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, completely unaware of how the eyes of the room had focused on their discussion. At some point she had wandered away from Miss Bingley and now stood close to him; not so close as to be improper, but close enough to turn away others from their conversation.
“Do let us have a little music,” cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share.
Elizabeth jolted in surprise, blinking rapidly as she broke eye contact with Darcy. She took quick steps away from him toward the safety of Jane’s presence. Her sister, though weak from the illness looked perfectly content to be the source of Mr. Bingley’s unwavering attention. The firelight gave her a becoming glow, which probably hid the feminine blush that budding affection often brought on.
“Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst?” Miss Bingley asked. Her sister had not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was opened.
Darcy watched Elizabeth move nearer her sister, sorry that their discussion was at an end. He found himself taken with the directness of her attention and the playfulness of her manner. She spoke of not being able to tease him, and yet her words had done just that. He could not be hurt by such attention from her, for there was no spite in her manner or words. When she looked at him, he felt as if they might someday be intimate friends. However, the spell he felt under her attention was successfully broken by the sound of music, and after a few moments’ recollection he was not sorry for it. Intimate friends? The idea was laughable. Whatever intimacies he wanted to develop between them was not exclusive to friendship. It was best if he did not pursue such impulses. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much open attention.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I N CONSEQUENCE OF AN AGREEMENT between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the next morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which would exactly finish Jane’s week, could not bring herself to receive them with pleasure before that time. In her letter she added her denial that, if Mr. Bingley and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well. Fearful of it being considered that they intruded needlessly long, Elizabeth urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley’s carriage immediately. At length it was settled that their original design of
“I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect.” As they moved, she tried not to be self-conscious. “He owns it himself without disguise.”
“No,” said Darcy, “I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but I hope they are not of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is too little yielding — certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot easily forgive the follies and vices of others, nor their offenses against me. My temper would perhaps be called resentful, and my good opinion once lost is lost forever.”
“That is a failing indeed,” agreed Elizabeth. They turned to face him, strolling back to where he sat. “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. Though it is an uncommon advantage, it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances for I dearly love a laugh.”
“There is in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil — a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome,” he said.
“And your defect is to hate everybody.”
“And yours,” he replied with a surprisingly bright smile, “is willfully to misunderstand them.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, completely unaware of how the eyes of the room had focused on their discussion. At some point she had wandered away from Miss Bingley and now stood close to him; not so close as to be improper, but close enough to turn away others from their conversation.
“Do let us have a little music,” cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share.
Elizabeth jolted in surprise, blinking rapidly as she broke eye contact with Darcy. She took quick steps away from him toward the safety of Jane’s presence. Her sister, though weak from the illness looked perfectly content to be the source of Mr. Bingley’s unwavering attention. The firelight gave her a becoming glow, which probably hid the feminine blush that budding affection often brought on.
“Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst?” Miss Bingley asked. Her sister had not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was opened.
Darcy watched Elizabeth move nearer her sister, sorry that their discussion was at an end. He found himself taken with the directness of her attention and the playfulness of her manner. She spoke of not being able to tease him, and yet her words had done just that. He could not be hurt by such attention from her, for there was no spite in her manner or words. When she looked at him, he felt as if they might someday be intimate friends. However, the spell he felt under her attention was successfully broken by the sound of music, and after a few moments’ recollection he was not sorry for it. Intimate friends? The idea was laughable. Whatever intimacies he wanted to develop between them was not exclusive to friendship. It was best if he did not pursue such impulses. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much open attention.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I N CONSEQUENCE OF AN AGREEMENT between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the next morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which would exactly finish Jane’s week, could not bring herself to receive them with pleasure before that time. In her letter she added her denial that, if Mr. Bingley and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well. Fearful of it being considered that they intruded needlessly long, Elizabeth urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley’s carriage immediately. At length it was settled that their original design of
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