Mr. Darcy's Diary

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!

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.’

‘I thought she looked very well,’ he said a few minutes later.

‘Yes, she did.’

‘And in spirits. She has enjoyed the summer, I suppose,’ he said wistfully.

‘It is to be hoped so. You would not wish her to be unhappy?’

‘No, of course not,’ he replied hastily.

‘I thought she did not look quite so blooming when we went in,’ I said to him.

‘No?’ he asked hopefully.

‘No. But she appeared to blossom when she saw you.’

Bingley smiled. ‘Mrs Bennet is a wonderful woman.

Truly charming. And so polite. I did not expect her to ask me to dinner so soon. It is a courtesy I do not deserve.’

Anyone who can think Mrs Bennet is a wonderful woman is in the grip of more than an infatuation. He is in love! I am glad for Bingley, and I only hope my own fortune can be as good.

Tuesday 23rd September

Bingley was ready to leave for Longbourn half an hour too early.

‘We cannot go so soon,’ I said, though I was just as eager to set out.

‘We might be delayed on the way,’ he said.

‘Not on such a short journey,’ I replied.

‘Jennings will not want to drive the horses too fast.’

‘We will reach Longbourn too soon, even if they walk all the way.’

‘There might be a branch in the road.’

‘We can drive round it.’

‘Or the carriage might lose a wheel.’

‘We cannot go for half an hour,’ I said, settling myself down with a book.

I wished I felt as complacent as I seemed. I was as anxious to go as Bingley, and yet I was reluctant to go as well. He had the happiness of knowing his feelings were returned. I had no such assurance. To see Elizabeth again!

I hardly dared think about it. If she smiled, what joy! If she avoided my gaze, what misery.

Bingley walked over to the window.

‘You should do as I do, and choose a book,’ I said.

He walked over to me and took it from my hands, then turned it round before handing it back to me.

‘You will do better if it is the right way up,’ he said.

He looked at me curiously, but I did not enlighten him as to the cause of my distraction. Instead, I kept my eyes on the page, but they saw nothing. At last the appointed time came, and we set out for Longbourn. We were both of us silent. We arrived. We went in. Mrs Bennet greeted Bingley with an excess of civility, and gave me a cold bow. We repaired to the dining-room. Miss Bennet happened to look up as we entered and Bingley took his place next to her. Happy Bingley! I had no such fortune. I was almost as far from Elizabeth as it was possible to be. Even worse, I was seated next to her mother.

Mrs Bennet had gone to a great deal of trouble with the dinner, and it was not difficult to see why. Her constant glances towards her eldest daughter and Bingley showed what direction her thoughts were taking. The soup was good, and it was followed by partridges and venison.

‘I hope you find the partridges well done?’ Mrs Bennet asked me.

‘Remarkably so,’ I replied, making an effort to be agreeable.

‘And the venison. Did you ever see a fatter haunch?’

‘No.’

‘You will take some gravy, I hope?’ she pressed me.

I had little appetite, and I declined her offer.