“A man is many things,” Elizabeth replied, “and a man who cannot walk is still a man.”
“But he is a more pitiable man than a man who can walk.”
“Yes. But if Mr. Darcy is at present timemorepitiable than he was before this illness of his, it does not follow that he is in fact pitiable. I do not think his state has sunk so far thatpityis the proper emotion.”
“I think,” Jane said, “that the chief point is that we ought to be compassionate and kindly towards all — we should strive to treat Mr. Darcy as he wishes to be treated.”
“Then we agree wholly,” Elizabeth said to her sister. “Mynotion of compassion and kindliness suggests that I ought to endeavor to think of Mr. Darcy as I would if he could walk. So I say: He does not speak nearly as much as he ought in company. It is almost rude.”
Charlotte added with a smirk, “And he dances far less often than a gentleman ought.”
Elizabeth pointedly looked at Charlotte and pursed her lips in mock disapproval.
Charlotte smiled brightly back. “You say you shall think of Mr. Darcy as you would if he could walk. If he can walk, he can dance, and if he can dance, he ought to dance. Especially when more than one young lady lacks a partner.”
“Argued with a syllogism!” Elizabeth laughed. “I’ll also judge him then for dancing less often than he ought.”
Shortly after this conversation, Mr. Darcy offended Miss Elizabeth’s vanity more pointedly and personally. But in an odd twist of fate, this proved fortuitous, for had he not done so, it is likely that the two of them never would have become acquainted in any significant fashion.
Elizabeth was obliged by the scarcity of gentlemen to sit out a set.
Rather than seeking a conversation with some other friend suffering from the same tragic and miserable state, Elizabeth determined to comfort herself with philosophical meditations upon the impossibility of having a perfect evening, unless one was Jane. Elizabeth chose for this task — and the author must confess this was not by coincidence — a chair near the one that Mr. Darcy was at present ensconced in, his long legs stretched to his front, and his even longer mahogany crutches leaning against the wall adjacent to him.
Elizabeth Bennet would freely confess to anyone who asked that she considered herself to be an excellent judge of character — the sort of woman who saw deeper, more clearly and with more amused eyes than others. Everyone was so fascinating. Little contradictions, oddities, and inconsistencies made every person unique and worth understanding. Often people said at one moment something that quite contradicted what they would say in another.
And they just didn’t notice!
That was the most fascinating aspect of the human character — its endless capacity for not noticing itself.
This Mr. Darcy, with his aristocratic pose, his wide shoulders and his inability to stand under his own power was an odder contradiction than most. It was as though the mental contradictions that she saw in all around her had been turned into a physical contradiction.
Elizabeth hoped an opportunity would arise for a conversation with Mr. Darcy so she might assess him and discover if in mental points he also differed from the ordinary — if his mind would fascinate her as much as his person did.
While Elizabeth sat pressed against the wall, Mr. Bingley went during the brief break between the two dances of the set which, happily, was the second that he was dancing with Jane, to approach Mr. Darcy. “Come, Darcy, you must converse with someone. I hate to see you sit about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better speak. This is an assembly!”
“I certainly shall not. You know how I hate to converse with those who I am in no way acquainted with.”
“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a kingdom! It need not be some matron, or one of the men too old to dance. Upon my honor, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty.”
“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet, giving a salute that pleased Elizabeth, who was too close to do more thanpretendto not hear their conversation.
“Oh! the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! One of her sisters is sitting down just behind you. Very pretty. I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”
“Which do you mean?” And turning round, he looked at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said, “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me, and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. Return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”
Elizabeth shortly after arose, grimaced at him, and left that corner of the room with no very cordial feelings towards Mr. Darcy.
She approached Charlotte and Jane during the break between dances, and drew them to the side by a small corridor leading to the rooms set aside for men and women to withdraw to when it was necessary to relieve themselves. “I have become determined to not like this Mr. Darcy,” she said.
“Oh?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow.
Elizabeth relayed the story to them, and added, “I confess my vanity has been offended by him, which naturally predisposes me to think the worst of him. He has determined to use his lameness to justify every ill mood and ill remark that he might ever make. Were he a proper gentleman no consideration would make him speak so rudely to a woman wholly unknown to him. I had not thrust myself forward into his attention — a remark most ungentlemanlike!”
At this juncture a sound coming from the door revealed to them Mr. Darcy himself, returning upon his crutches to the ballroom.
The severe expression upon Mr. Darcy’s face convinced Elizabeth he had heard some part of her speech. He bowed his head stiffly, and with a surprisingly fast gait on his crutches worked his way around and past them.
Tap, tap, tap. The sound of his steps.
