Beginning, Next Section
Chapter 1
"Morning, Jeeves"
"Good morning, sir."
He placed a cup of tea by the bedside table, and I took a sip. Just right, as usual. Not too hot, not too sweet, not too weak, not too strong, not too much milk, and not a drop spilled in the saucer. An amazing cove, Jeeves. So dashed competent in every respect.
"Mr. Bingley called earlier this morning. He seemed eager to see you."
"Old Bungler, eh? I wonder what he wanted."
"I could not say, sir. He did not leave a message. He seemed a trifle put out when I informed him that you would not be rising for some hours."
"That's Bungler. Very impatient. Still, I suppose I'll run into him at the Drones. I wonder what it is this time. Another girl, I suppose."
"Very possibly, sir."
He shimmied out, leaving me alone to contemplate the facts. This Bungler and I go back to University, and many's the time that we've been bunged out of nightclubs together. The sort of thing that forms a bond between strong men. Still, it's not as though I play Damon to his what's his name. He's not like Bingo Little, or some of the other chappies I've known since we were toddlers together. His what's his name, bosom buddy, I mean, is a certain Darcy, whom I've never quite been able to cotton to. He's the strong, silent, earnest type, while Bungler is like yours truly, open, affable, and generally the life of the party. I take an eager interest in his affairs, and I was curious to know what the matter might be. But I wasn't worried. As I had told Jeeves, it was probably a girl. Bungler is one of those men who flits like a butterfly from girl to girl. While the thing lasts, each one in turn is the lodestar of his life, but with one thing or another, nothing has ever come off.
Jeeves entered the room again as I began to dress for the day. "I say, Jeeves, what was the name of that pal of Damon's? You know, those chappies willing to lay their lives down for each other?"
"I believe you would be referring to Pythias, sir."
"That's the chap. Bungler and I aren't quite like Damon and Pythias, but I do wonder what brought him here. Still, I suppose I'll find out soon enough."
"Undoubtedly, sir."
"It's been a while since Bungler's been in London. Last I heard Darcy had dragged him off to the country for several months."
"Would that be Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, sir?"
"That might be it. Up in Derbyshire, or some such place, I believe. Why, are you familiar with it?"
"Indeed, sir. My aunt is in service there as the housekeeper. I have spent many pleasant hours there in her care. Mr. Darcy and I played together as children."
"So you have it on good authority that Darcy played as a child? I find that hard to believe. Not one to partake of the pleasures of life, your Mr. Darcy. Many's the time he's shrugged off the entertainments of the Drones, not allowing them to soothe his care-worn brow, if that's what I'm trying to say."
"Lucidly expressed, sir. Mr. Darcy has unfortunately had to assume the responsibilities of his estate at a tender age. His father died some ten years ago, and he has subsequently been the Master of Pemberley and the guardian of his sister, Miss Darcy."
"You seem to think that an adequate excuse, Jeeves, but I must be a sterner critic. You don't see me moping around because my father handed in the bucket. Nor Mr. Bingley, I might add. No Jeeves, there's a whole slew of us orphans at the Drones, living it up tolerably in spite of the deficiency. Still, I suppose the sister might have done it."
"I believe Miss Darcy is a charming and accomplished young lady. Her brother is said to be extremely proud of her."
"Your sources at the Junior Ganymede at work again, Jeeves?"
"Indeed, sir."
Thus far the conversation had been conducted with all the cheeriness of two turtle doves cooing to each other, but now there was a lull. I braced myself for the impending tussle.
"Do you intend, sir, to go into town dressed in that fashion?"
"Is there anything you find objectionable, Jeeves?"
"Other than a peculiar object dangling about your collar, no, sir."
"Ah, this necktie," I said, breezily, "rather snazzy, I thought."
"In the abstract, sir, I cannot disagree. The object is certainly striking. There can be no cause for you to attract such adverse attention."
The object under contention was a certain scarlet necktie that I had recently acquired. Jeeves is notoriously hidebound in the matter of neckwear, while I try to be open-minded. This particular item had taken my fancy, and I had it on good authority that it was what everyone in New York was wearing.
"Jeeves," I said, "I must be strong. Everyone in New York is wearing this tie, and let it never be said that Bertie Wooster did not have what it takes to introduce it to London."
As I left, I thought I heard a comment about not following the Americans into all their worst excesses.
When I sailed into the Drones later that morning, I looked the picture of "What the Well-Dressed Man is Wearing," which was the title of a 'piece', as we journalists call it, I wrote for Milady's Boudoir, the magazine of which my Aunt Dahlia was formerly proprietress, if that's the right word for it. In spite of Jeeves protestations, the tie attracted much attention, all of it favourable. As I settled into the smoking room, I finally ran into old Bungler, and his pal Darcy.
"What ho, Bungler! What ho, Darcy!"
"What ho, Bertie! I was over at your place this morning, looking for you."
"Yes, my man Jeeves mentioned it. When did you get back to the old metrop?"
"Yesterday. And I won't be staying long. Bertie, I've finally found a house."
Bungler is one of the few members of the Drones with the distinction of having possession of his own money. Darcy, Oofy Prosser and I are the others. Seeing a quorum, so to speak, of this select group gathered together, the other members had scurried around hoping to touch us for whatever crumbs might fall their way. But on this particular day, we stood firm and held our ground. Entirely because of Darcy, in my opinion. Bungler and I would have unbent in a minute if it weren't for a strong imposing looking chappie like Darcy turning a deaf ear to the pleas of our fellow members. Anyhow, Bingley's fortune, from what I hear, is new money, and his father always meant to buy a country house in order to gain respectability, or some such thing. But he never lived to see the day, and the task has fallen upon Bungler, who shares his father's ambition, but not his drive. Every few months, he gets all excited about this place or that, but he invariably has second thoughts, and backs out of the thing. Rather like his attitude about all those girls, actually. There was a time when Bill Rowcester was hoping Bungler would take the Abbey off his hands, but Jeeves took care of that situation, and the house has been shipped off stone by stone to the shores of sunny California, much to the satisfaction of all parties involved. But now it seemed that he had finally found a place to suit him.
"Splendid, what! Where is it?"
"Hertfordshire. Delightful place. It's called Netherfield, the house, I mean. I'm leaving London in a day or two. Darcy's coming with me, and so are my sisters. I say, Bertie, why don't you join us?"
"Delighted to, Bungler, old chap." I said, and I meant it. I hadn't had a chance to hobnob with Bungler for some time, lately, and this seemed like a splendid chance to catch up. Besides, London gets pretty tiresome from time to time, and I had been planning to beat a retreat to the country. Aunt Dahlia had declared Brinkley Court off-limits, and barred me from Anatole's artistry, because she was entertaining some clients of Uncle Tom's, because she didn't want me gumming up the works, as she put it. Strange sentiment, I thought, considering how often Jeeves and the self had been of service to her, but aunts will be aunts, I suppose. Bungler's place in Hertfordshire would be a nice alternative. Darcy, I noticed, brightened considerably when I said I'd be joining them. Rather odd, considering that he hadn't said a word to me yet. I put it down to the fact that his heart was in the right place, and joined them for an aperitif before lunch.
Chapter 2
Jeeves and I motored down to Netherfield a few days later. The house was well-sized, and rather imposing from certain angles, and I could see why Bungler had been quite taken by it. The countryside was peaceful, and for once I looked forward to a quiet month, uninterrupted by the sort of excitement that has become endemic to my life. And there seemed no reason why this should not be the case. There was no aunt of mine within miles of the place, and the people whose crises habitually punctuate my life were equally far removed. Bingo Little was touring the continent with his wife, the famous authoress Rosie M. Banks, Tuppy Glossop and my cousin Angela were honeymooning in the lake district, Spode and Madeline Basset, or Lord and Lady Sidcup, as they had taken to calling themselves, were safely in Totleigh Towers, Florence Craye was touring the United States, promoting her novel, Spindrift, and Kipper Herring, my old friend, was at Skeldings Hall, preparing for his wedding with Bobbie Wikham.
Malleable as I usually am, I can on occasion summon an iron will, and such I now resolved to do. I intended to enjoy a few quite weeks in the countryside, and I would not permit my vacation to be transformed into anything else. Hertfordshire would never meet Betram Wilberforce Wooster in the role of orator, or judge at a bonny babies' contest, or helper at a Sunday school treat. Such horrors must fall upon other men, and Hertfordshire surely had its share of eager pimply faced youths. But most of all, I resolved that I should not entangle myself in the love affairs which inevitably confound the lives of those around me. After years of bailing out my friends in their time of need, and occasionally barely escaping the scaffold myself, I congratulated myself that I had finally learnt my lesson.
I reached Netherfield around tea-time. Bungler greeted me effusively, as usual, and introduced me to the rest of the party. Darcy was there, staring out the window with a cup of tea in his hand. When he saw me, he beamed, and once again I was a little surprised. Bungler's sister Caroline was to be our hostess, and she greeted me pleasantly enough, although she seemed a little preoccupied with the tea-service. In appearance she was rather striking, definitely in the pin-up class. While she wasn't quite so beautiful as Bobbie Wikham or Florence Craye, she had a very distinctive air about her, and would have done credit to the harem of any sultan. His other sister, Louisa, was there with her husband, Hurst, as well. Hurst seemed like a rather dull chap, who had very little to say for himself. Bungler and I were chatting away merrily, and I noticed that Caroline seemed eager to engage Darcy in conversation. Feeling sorry for the poor thing I tried to include her in our conversation, but she inevitably turned back to him. Suddenly Darcy came up to me and asked me how I liked Netherfield.
"Splendid house," I replied, amazed that he had broken his Trappist vows.
"But of course, it will not seem like much after Yaxley," he continued, "Bertie's uncle is the earl of Yaxley, Caroline, and Bertie is his heir."
I was about to say that I hadn't seen Yaxley since I was a boy, because my uncle divides his time between London and Droitgate, where he takes his rest cures, when Caroline Bingley interjected, "Really, Mr. Wooster, I hope his lordship is in good health."
"Never better," I replied, cordially, a little surprised at her interest.
After that, she seemed to open up more, and turned out to be a charming girl. I decided that her initial restraint had just been shyness. Amazing how it can tie a person up. I have never been one for reticence myself, and there are few who can break the ice in conversation with greater ease, but I heartily sympathize with those who are not so blessed. Darcy, for example, after his one effort, never said another word all evening. He just returned to his window, and stared outside. It reminded me of one of Madeline Basset's gags about the Blessed Damozel, staring out of the gold bar of heaven. Caroline didn't try to include him in our conversation after that. I supposed the poor girl had just given up on trying to be sociable to him.
Author's Note: For Bertie, Jeeves, and the rest of his circle, I am of course indebted to P. G. Wodehouse. For additional inspiration, I must thank the virtuoso performances of Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry in those roles in the BBC series, as well as our beloved cast of P&P2, and of course, as always, JA.
Chapter 3
The next night, we were to attend an assembly at Meryton, a small town in the vicinity of Netherfield, and as I dressed for the occasion, Jeeves and I discussed my fellow inmates. When I say discussed, I mean that I told him what I thought of them. Jeeves rarely forwards an opinion on such matters, because he considers it a liberty to speak too freely. Still, we have known each other long enough that he is able to convey his views to the young master, using such means as significant glances.
"Jeeves," I said, "I am in general an open-minded man, tolerant of my fellow creatures. But I have no qualms in saying that we are gathered here among some of the sorriest specimens of the human race."
"I could not venture an opinion, sir." was his reply, but I could see that he sympathized.
"Take Hurst, for example. When Bingley told him of the assembly, all he could say was that he hoped they'd have enough to drink. And then there's Darcy. The man is moping around every minute of the day, glowering out of windows in vacant or in pensive mood, as one of those poet johnnies had it. I'm not saying that his heart isn't in the right place, but surely the man could make a little more of an effort to be sociable. Didn't the poet have a some kind of a remedy for it? Darcy could certainly use it."
"The poet Wordsworth would think on daffodils to alleviate his melancholy, sir."
"Really, Jeeves? Dashed silly notion, in my opinion."
"Perhaps the choice of daffodils does not appeal to you, sir. But the idea betrays a keen insight into the psychology of the individual. Were Mr. Darcy to be somehow distracted, he might not meditate so much on the causes of his despondency."
"I dare say you're right, Jeeves, but it couldn't hurt him to try harder. The other day, I thought he was improving when he started talking about Yaxley, but then Caroline and I started talking and he went straight back to his window. Not that I was particularly sorry at the time. She's turned out to be a very pleasant young lady."
"Indeed, sir?" His manner was as serene as ever, but I spotted the significant glance.
"Jeeves, do you have reason to disapprove of her?"
"Miss Bingley, sir, is not well-liked in the servants' hall. There is considerable displeasure at the changes in the running of the house-hold she is eager to implement. If I may say so, sir, she is excessively officious."
"Nonsense, Jeeves, she's just trying to be a responsible hostess."
"If you say so, sir," he said, but it was with another sig. g.
"Sometimes, Jeeves, I get the feeling that you would have me disapprove of every young lady of my acquaintance," I said, with a sig. g. of my own. "Caroline Bingley is uniformly charming, and you will not be able to persuade me otherwise."
And with that, I left him. Jeeves is invaluable to me; my Aunt Agatha describes him as my keeper, and I myself have referred to him as my nanny elsewhere in the archives, but there are some things on which a man must decide for himself. I had recently shown Jeeves that I intended to have my own way about my ties, and the time had come when he had to learn to stop being so critical of every woman I meet.
About a half an hour later, I found myself at this assembly we had all been invited to. It was a simple country dance, pleasant enough in its own way. Some of the local girls were uncommonly pretty, and Bungler was having the time of his life. He danced the first two with Charlotte Lucas, the daughter of Sir William Lucas, who was some kind of local big-whig. Charlotte was a nice sensible kind of girl, but Bungler generally goes in for the more spectacularly svelte, and when he had done his duty to his neighbour, he dragged us all off to be introduced to another family, and it was obvious in a second why. Bungler later told me that he had heard that the Miss Bennets were the prettiest girls in Hertfordshire, and all in all, it was not too much of an exaggeration. There were five of them in all; the eldest two were definitely in the pin-up class, the middle was the plain earnest type -- it wouldn't have surprised me if she read sermons of her own free will, and the youngest two were pleasant pretty young things -- the kind of girls who make it a point of dancing every single dance. Bingley immediately monopolized the eldest Miss Bennet, Jane, a blue-eyed blond with the shrinking violet tendencies that are sadly lacking in my own circle of female acquaintances. The mother, who resembled my aunts far too much to make me feel comfortable, seemed quite eager to meet me and Darcy. I could have warned her that it would all come to nothing; Darcy ignored her, and I could tell that she was none too pleased by his behaviour. But she was nevertheless quite remarkably attentive to me, and sent me off to dance with her second daughter. Elizabeth Bennet, or Lizzy, as I was calling her by the end of the evening, was petite, with dark curls, and big dark eyes. She was very pleasant company, and in no time at all we were talking and laughing like we had known each other all our lives. I danced with her several times, and then I danced with the younger sisters for a bit, and generally had a jolly good time of it.
Darcy, in sharp contradistinction, had renewed his Trappist vows, and prowled through the assembly as though he meant to frighten all and sundry. I saw him stand up with Caroline, but I suppose the poor girl couldn't put up with him for more than one dance, and after they were done, he returned to his lonely prowl. Bungler noticed too, I saw, and he went up to Darcy and tried to make him mend his manners. It was a fool's errand, of course, and Darcy remained unmoved, rather like the boy on the burning deck in that poem. Not nearly as heroic, of course, as he hardly endangered life or limb. But you get the idea. A little later, when I danced with Lizzy again, I found out what had been said. Splendid girl, that. Any other creature would have been offended at Darcy's loutish behaviour, but she was doubling over with laughter as she told me the story, doing a fine impression of his haughty manner.
Anyhow, this is the transcript of the conversation she provided:
B: Come, Darcy, I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.D: I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.
B: I would not be so fastidious as you are, for a kingdom! Upon my honour 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.
D: You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room.
B: Oh! she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.
D: Which do you mean?
( turns round, looks for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdraws his own)
She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.
Then she joked with me for a bit, wondering why I gave consequence to young ladies who had been slighted by other men, to which I replied suitably gallantly, according to the principles of preux chevalier which are so integral to the Code of the Woosters. Soon afterwards the party broke up, and we motored back to Netherfield.
Chapter 4
Bungler made a quite a hit with the local johnnies at the Assembly, and after that, the invitations just kept pouring in. I later found out that there were only twenty-four families in the neighbourhood, but at the time it seemed as though they were crawling out of the woodwork. My Aunt Agatha seems to think that it's in cities like London and New York where people live dissipated lives, but she's got it all wrong. I've spent a lot of time in London and New York, and I can't say that I haven't seen some pretty wild times, but life, on the whole, is real and earnest. In the country, they live for nothing but pleasure. We dined out practically every other day, and when the locals said dinner, they meant an evening of cards and dancing, and generally a sort of bacchanalian orgy. Bungler, of course, was only too happy to hobnob with the natives, and I rather liked them myself.
On one of these evenings out, we found ourselves at Lucas Lodge, the home of Sir William. By now of course we knew the drill -- Bungler made a bee-line for Jane Bennet, with a sort of Soul's Awakening look on his face, Darcy found himself a window to haunt and set about staring at everyone, and Hurst set about downing as many drinks as he could with the air of a man on a mission. Caroline, the poor girl, hadn't had much luck making friends, and she usually talked only to the Netherfield party. Jane Bennet, I noticed, was trying to take her under her wing, and I was glad to see that she opened up a little more when Jane was around. Lizzy Bennet and I were well on the way to being fast friends, and when I went up to her this evening, I found that she and Charlotte Lucas were talking about Darcy.
"What does Mr. Darcy mean," she asked me and Charlotte, "by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?"
"That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer." the ever-sensible Charlotte said.
I gave them my little Trappist vows line here, and they were very amused.
"But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I see what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow very afraid of him," Lizzy continued.
Soon afterwards, he drifted away from his post at the window and approached us, but it didn't look like he had any intention of saying anything. Charlotte immediately challenged Lizzy to mention the subject to him, and Lizzy didn't need much provocation. Women have a singular lack of delicacy in such matters, and I have often heard my Aunt Agatha hold discourse on subjects no red-blooded man would ever bring up in mixed company. Lizzy, of course, was not an aunt, but she was a woman, although her hair was not the same vivid shade of red, something told me that she was very like Bobbie Wikham.
"Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?"
Darcy looked none too pleased that he had been caught snooping around, but he answered with better humour than I would have guessed possible.
"With great energy; but it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic."
"You are severe on us."
"It will be her turn soon to be teased," said Charlotte. "I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows."
What followed seemed to be a tradition with the locals. They would gather around the piano-forte, and the young ladies would be given the opportunity to perform before an audience, or exhibit, as they quaintly referred to it. Rather a bizarre ritual, I would have thought, but they were jolly keen on it around here, and one doesn't quarrel with that sort of thing.
Lizzy protested slightly, but Charlotte was adamant, and soon she found herself seated at the instrument. It would not be going too far to say that I am something of a savant when it comes to music, and though I prefer to restrict my own performances to the privacy of my bath, elsewhere in the archives you will find the account of how I performed "Sonny Boy" before an audience that was definitely menacing. This was entirely different sort of affair. Lizzy was an excellent singer, and though she was a bit iffy on some of the high notes, she didn't try anything out of her range. And because she wasn't temperamental, she looked like she was having an awfully good time at it, and it was impossible not to enjoy it with her. When she was done we all cheered heartily, and her sister Mary, the plain one who looked like she could quote out of that volume called Types of Ethical Theory that Florence Craye had tried to foist on me, took her place. Instantly, a sort of pall descended upon the room, as she started what was undoubtedly one of those endless concertos. The room grew much more reminiscent of the occasion of my solo public perf., which had been at some sort of benefit for the proletariat. The proletariat had come armed with the most putrid of the produce, and I had been very relieved not to be at the receiving end of their wrath. The locals here were not the proletariat, but they were rustics, and I wondered what they had in store. But they proved to be worthy souls, or perhaps they were simply more hardy than the city-bred masses, and although the bird was hovering in the air, and I could hear its wings flapping, Mary Bennet's performance did not end in a violent uprising. At the end of her concerto, Mary was induced to play some lively airs, and the young people began to dance. By now, I had grown used to the impromptu manner in which these proceedings were conducted, and I did not protest when one of the younger Bennet girls came and claimed me for a partner, and Bungler and Jane joined in as well.
Darcy, in the meantime, had been cornered by Sir William Lucas, our well-meaning host.
"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it one of the first refinements of polished societies." was his opening gambit.
"Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance." was Darcy's come-back, and very snappily delivered. My respect for the man increased slightly, and I assumed Sir William was down and out.
Sir William persevered.
"Your friends perform delightfully," he said, eyeing me and Bungler; "and I doubt not that you are an adept at the science yourself."
I could have corrected him on a few points there, but I was in no position to leave without disproving his conviction in my skills. My Aunt Agatha would have quarrelled with him for classifying any activity at which I am proficient as a science. As it was, however, only Darcy responded, and he was none too happy that this conversation hadn't ended yet.
"You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir."
"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight."
This was stretching it a bit, I thought. Darcy had stood up for barely two dances, those only with Bungler's sisters. And while his dancing was fairly irreproachable, his company was obviously somewhat suspect, and Caroline had danced with him only once.
Sir William continued his interrogation.
"Do you often dance at court?"
"Never, sir."
"Do you not think it a proper compliment to pay the place?"
"It is a compliment I never pay to any place if I can avoid it."
"You have a house in town, I conclude?"
Darcy nodded.
"I had once thought of fixing in town myself -- for I am fond of superior society, but I did not feel quite certain that the air of London would agree with Lady Lucas."
Darcy had nothing to say. Sir William, evidently pleased at having acquired one captive, looked about for another, and Lizzy, who was moving towards them, was the chosen victim.
"My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you."
Darcy, who had been staring at so much beauty practically all evening, looked a little surprised, but seemed quite happy to receive her hand, but Lizzy drew back, discomposed.
"Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner."
Sir William would not be shaken from his purpose so easily, and Darcy allied himself to this front, and asked her once again. Lizzy stood firm, resisting the Darcy-Lucas axis.
"You excel so much at the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness in seeing you, and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour."
"Mr. Darcy is all politeness." said Lizzy, smiling. Once again, a gross exaggeration, but Lizzy, of course, knew that.
Sir William didn't.
"He is indeed; but considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance -- for who would object to such a partner?"
Lizzy looked archly, and turned away.
Darcy, it seemed would not be left alone this particular evening. Caroline, oddly enough, went up to him soon afterwards, but I was some distance away at this point, and I am unable to provide a transcript of the conversation. When he turned away from her, though, Caroline looked deeply shaken. Having just seen Darcy's rapier sharp wit in display, I was quite concerned that his words had disturbed the poor girl. As soon as the dancing ceased, I went up to her and asked her if she was quite all right.
"Oh, Bertie! It is so sweet of you to be concerned."
"Oh, I say, Caroline, it's nothing, really..."
"But you do care! I was beginning to think no one did," she said, looking at me plaintively with her eyes open wide.
"You mustn't let Darcy get to you like that. Not that I blame you -- his withering glance has quelled many a strong man."
"You're such a dear, Bertie," she said, giggling shyly. There's nothing a chappie can say when a girl says a thing like that. I looked down and shuffled my feet, trying to look dignified, and failing.
"Bertie, look at me!" I was obliged to comply. "Why are you being so shy?"
I hastened to correct her, but she continued, and I was forced to leave my protests unvoiced.
"Why haven't you said anything, Bertie? I can see it in your eyes."
I was frankly mystified, but she went on to clarify.
"A girl always knows these things, Bertie. Why didn't you tell me you were in love with me?"
The Code of the Woosters would not allow me to correct her misapprehension, but even if had not been thus restrained, I could not have broken her heart while she was looking at me like that. There was only one thing to be done. I asked her if she would marry me.
"Oh, Bertie!" she yipped. "Of course I will!"
"Good egg!" I said. It seemed the only thing for it.
Chapter 5
Author's Note: Whenever I read Wodehouse, one of the things I like doing is catching all the allusions and quotes he leaves in. Since I'm trying my hand at his style, I thought some of you might want to play at catching them. In this chapter, there are 2 from Shakespeare, and one each from Kipling, Thoreau, and Thomas Paine. In addition, there is at least one more that Wodehouse often uses whose original source I have not yet pin-pointed.
When I woke up the next morning, I was tolerably bucked. Nature's sweet restorer had done its magic, and whatever nature had left to chance, Jeeves took care of, with a cup of tea that just about hit the spot. This whole engagement thing had been a bit of a bolt from the blue, so to speak, but the more I thought about it, the more it began to seem like a jolly good idea. There was a lot, I thought, to be said for marriage, and Caroline was just the girl for me. As far as looks went, she was in the pin-up class by a considerable margin, and while she was a little shy, if there was one thing I'd learnt over the course of my long and some would say chequered career, it was that yours truly would be no match for a really formidable female. Admirable though they are, such women are best left to the supermen of this world rather than to the lambs, and Bertram W. Wooster is a certified lamb. More than once I have been snared by a formidable female --the sort of woman nature intended to fashion into an aunt -- and every time I've been made to suffer dreadful agonies for her sake. But if there was one thing I knew about Caroline, it was that she wasn't formidable. She was a timid little thing, just what the doctor ordered as far as I was concerned. In summation, she was more lovely and more temperate than a summer's day. And to top it all off, she was exactly the kind of girl my various aunts have been trying to get me hitched to for years. As far as family, that is to say, and emphatically not temperamentally, because the candidates they favoured for the most part were members of the hearty back-slapping backbone of English society. I think I've mentioned before that Bungler comes from new money, but any money is quite respectable in these democratic times, and even before the Bingleys were rich, they were sufficiently well regarded. They come from a bevy of Bingleys in one of the northern counties, and it wouldn't surprise me if there lurked numerous connections hidden away in other nooks and crannies of the blessed isle. My Aunt Agatha would be delighted to hear of the engagement; she been getting at me for years because I haven't settled down and started breeding a brood of young Woosters, a matter she discourses on with a regrettable lack of delicacy. My willingness to sign on the dotted line would certainly mollify the old buzzard. So I summoned Jeeves once again, and prepared to dictate a telegram.
"Ah, yes, Jeeves. Take this down, please. To Lady Worplesdon, Steeple Bumpleigh. Am engaged. Stop. Caroline Bingley. Stop. Love, Wooster. Stop."
"Am I to understand that congratulations are in order, sir?" he said, with a slightly disapproving look that bore a marked resemblance to a stuffed frog. He has this fixed notion about not remaining in the service of married men, because he is convinced that when a wife muscles her way into a household, a gentleman's personal gentleman is displaced. I am the first to admit that this is very far from being an unusual circumstance, and more than once my horror of matrimony has stemmed from no cause other than a wholesome horror of life without Jeeves, but with Caroline, this was a laughable thought. She was hardly the sort of girl who would decide to take my life in hand, and mould me. The only way to prevent him from handing in his mitten and keep him ministering to me at the old stand was to take a firm stand now.
"That very inference, Jeeves," I said airily, and seeing my nonchalance, he was forced to lay off the stuffed-frog manner, and there was no idle talk of giving notice.
"I have laid out a suit of clothes for this morning, sir," he said, a little later, and as I got up to dress, I noted with satisfaction that the scarlet necktie was part of the ensemble. I did not comment on the matter, not being one to exact my pound of flesh, but I did reflect with satisfaction on my own conduct in thus refraining, noting that the quality of mercy had, as advertised, dropped like gentle rain upon the place beneath. The spring in my step that morning as I left my rooms gained something from this stand-off between strong men from the ends of the Earth.
At the breakfast table, the entire company was effusive with congratulations. The inmates had bucked up a considerable amount at the joyous tidings, and even Darcy loosened up to such a remarkable extent that one could almost have scratched his claim to being one of that number of men, comprising, regrettably, the majority of the race, who lead lives of quiet desperation.
It was after breakfast, as Caroline and I were strolling together in the park, when the blow finally fell. She had been discoursing rapturously on the details of the wedding as she saw it, complete with several bishops, full choral effects, and a generous sprinkling of society columnists and photographers, when she turned to scrutinize me closely. I should have suspected something when she bit her lip in the same way that Florence Craye used to when she dreamt up her schemes to mould me. It is always this way with women; they cannot leave me to my own devices, but they can never take me as I am.
"Of course, we'll have to do something about the way you dress for the photographs, Bertie. Where on earth did you come across that ghastly necktie? I can't believe your valet let you wear it. We'll have to find someone else to look after you."
These are the times that try men's souls. I didn't know whether to defend my taste in clothing or Jeeves's, and by the time I found my tongue again she had wandered on to sundry other subjects. But the scales had fallen from my eyes, and I knew that in Caroline's timid frame lurked that most horrible of all creatures, a moulder, and one of Nature's aunts. Truly, the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
Chapter 6
The thing to do, of course, was to put the entire thing in front of Jeeves, and see what he would come up with, and this was what I proceeded to do at once. I do not doubt that stronger men than I would have bitten the bullet and walked the plank rather than recant on a judgment hastily made, but we Woosters do not shirk from admitting that we have been at fault. Jeeves and I have been through thick and thin together, as the archives can vouch for, not to mention the eighteen odd pages Jeeves has torn out of the club-book at the Junior Ganymede, and I knew that I could count on him to do the square thing by the young master.
Of course, there was a certain degree of awkwardness associated with the necessary confession, but that could not be helped, and as I was dressing for dinner, I opened with a shot in the dark.
"I say, Jeeves, about that telegram, I don't suppose, I mean to say..."
"I have forwarded the communication to Lady Worplesdon, sir. Were you anticipating an immediate reply?"
"No, Jeeves, it's just that, well, something in the nature of a calamity seems to be called for."
"Indeed, sir?"
"I shan't beat around the bush, Jeeves. Whether or not 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, I would like, by opposing, to end them."
"Sir?"
"Jeeves, there comes a tide in the affairs of men, which, when taken at the flood,..."
"Sir, If I might be of any assistance..."
"Jeeves, you know perfectly well what I'm saying. If you don't come up with something fast, the wedding bells will ring out, and Caroline will be a little more than kin and less than kind."
"A most disturbing prospect, sir."
"You know the Code of the Woosters, Jeeves. I can't get out of it unless she hands me the mitten. Have you got any plans up your sleeve?"
"I regret to say, sir, that no scheme suggests itself at present."
"I was afraid of that, Jeeves. Keep at the fish, and tell me if you think of something."
"I will give the matter my closest attention, sir."
The tour was every bit as mind-bogglingly dull as I could have anticipated. The Colonel expounded to us on his vision of an England overrun with cabbages, which would be tended by boys trained by the former soldiers, and the likeness to Spode, who had his own agricultural plan in which brussels sprouts figured prominently, was eerie. And, moreover, since the Colonel's scheme involved abstention from spirits of every description, I had no means of restoring the tissues.
The damage, for the most part, was repaired after a good night's rest, however, and I entered the breakfast chamber well able to face the spectre of Caroline. But I need not have been concerned, because the developments of the night acted as a lightning rod, and I was left to my own devices. Apparently, Jane Bennet had appeared at the doorstep soaking wet the previous night, and had taken to the sick-bed almost at once. And this morning, Lizzy had walked over from Longbourn to ask after her sister. Caroline and Louisa tittered at the expense of Lizzy's petticoat, and her Cheapside relations, and I shuddered as I received confirmation that whatever her other merits, Caroline was markedly deficient in the milk of human kindness.
When I saw Jeeves after breakfast, however, he restored the spring in my step.
"Regarding our conversation last night, sir, if I might make a suggestion..."
"You've come up with something, Jeeves? Let's hear it."
"It is an excessively simple plan, sir. I could not suggest it last night because of the lack of a suitable accomplice, but that situation has been rectified."
"Well, what is it?"
"If Miss Bingley were to observe you engaging the attentions of another young lady, sir, it is likely that she would sever the engagement."
"You don't want me to kiss a chambermaid again, Jeeves?"
"No sir, that will not be necessary. I am sure that if you were to explain the circumstances to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, she would be happy to oblige. Miss Bennet is a high-spirited young lady, sir, and I suspect your present predicament will appeal to her sense of humour."
"Something in that, Jeeves. I'll go talk to Lizzy about it."
"I believe you will find her in the rose-garden, sir. Miss Bennet encouraged her to get some fresh air instead of spending the entire day in the sick-room."
Lizzy was in the rose-garden, right enough, and she stared at me a little strangely when I went up to her. But I persevered, and set the facts of the case before her. She was quick on the uptake, and, as Jeeves had predicted, immensely tickled with the entire situation.
"I was wondering whether or not you were quite right in the head when I heard about the engagement, Bertie. Now I'm sure you're not. So you want to tread the primrose path of dalliance, do you?"
I assured her of my unsullied intentions, and she laughed some more.
"You are a dear, Bertie. If you aren't careful, I might marry you myself."
I recoiled instinctively. Much as I liked her, I had learnt a thing or two from my adventures (exhaustively chronicled in the archives), and one of the things I had learnt was that there were men in the world who were fitting mates for women like Lizzy Bennet, and that they were made of sterner stuff than Bertram W. Wooster. I was about to protest, when she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. Then she smiled, and calmly walked away, and I turned around to see Darcy striding towards me purposefully.
Another of my hard-earned lessons was a certain scent for danger, and I knew instinctively at that moment that Darcy had been in the viewing galleries for the recently completed exhibition, and that he wasn't looking for an encore. I took to my heels at once, and was doing a fairly competent job filling the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run, but Darcy's reconnaissance had been superior to mine, and knowing the lie of the land, he soon had me cornered by a stile.
Bertie is not a name suitable for the purposes of hissing ominously, but Wooster is almost ideal, and this was the mode of address Darcy chose.
"Wooster," he hissed ominously, "I've been watching you."
I nodded, to signify that I had gathered as much.
"I despise flibbertygibbets, Wooster."
"Flibbertygibbets?"
"Yes, flibbertygibbets. Sorry specimens such as yourself who flit from girl to girl, trifling with their affections."
Considering that he was speaking impromptu, he was choosing words that were considerably above the average on any scale of hissability.
"Me? But I haven't been flirting, I mean, flitting, or trifling..." I said, and I would have spoken further, had I not been interrupted.
"Don't babble, Wooster," he cut in, curtly, deviating from his hissing policies, but retaining the ominous quality of his words, and I continued to quake. "You are a menace to society, Wooster. I won't have you trifling with Miss Bennet..., or any other young lady." he added as an afterthought, "You are engaged, Wooster, and I am determined to help you remember that fact, even if you are determined to forget it."
I laughed, mordantly. It seemed ironic that he should accuse me of forgetting the very fact that weighed so heavily on my shoulders. And I turned to face him with a nonchalant air, endeavouring to forget that he stood several inches higher than myself, and bestrode the narrow world like a colossus. After all, I hadn't spent so many years under Jeeves's tutelage without some of the stratagems and spoils rubbing off on me.
"I will ask you, Darcy, to refrain from jumping to idle conclusions, which, I may add, flower only in an idle mind. I thank you for your mnemonic assistance, but I shan't be requiring it, since my own is by no means as faulty as you seem to judge it. I have not forgotten the fact of my engagement to Caroline. In fact, the display you appear to have witnessed was the result of my apprising our mutual friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet of this fact. Upon hearing the news, she congratulated me, and kissed me, in a sisterly manner."
"Sisterly, eh?" he said, thoughtfully.
"Sisterly," I reaffirmed, rejoicing inwardly that Darcy had been stymied.
"There may be something in what you say, Wooster. But I will be watching you very closely, and if there is more of this funny business, you shall have to pay for it."
"Suit yourself, Darcy."
"And let's have no more of these fraternal embraces, Wooster. I don't want you importuning the poor girl like that."
"You have said quite enough, Darcy." I said, coldly, and with a toodle-oo, took my leave. But though I held my head high, and walked with a calm, measured tread, my heart was heavy. For Darcy had promised to watch my every move, and under the circumstances, any attempt to alienate Caroline's affections would be ill-advised. I would have to wear the yoke indefinitely.
I had not walked far when I saw Caroline coming towards me, her eyes blazing like heavenly orbs.
"What did you mean by that shameless exhibition you made of yourself in the rose-garden just now, Bertie? No, spare me your explanations. I could never love you after what I saw there. Our engagement is at an end."
She turned, and strode away in the manner popularized by our armed forces. I uttered a silent cry of triumph, and then the silver lining faded away, leaving the cloud firmly in place. The Bingley menace had been averted, but Darcy loomed large on the horizon.
I did the only thing to be done under the circumstances. I quickened my pace, and made my way up to my rooms. I collapsed on to the softest chair, and rang for Jeeves.
"Pour me one of your stiffest, Jeeves," I said, when he appeared, "and lend me your ears, for I have a tale of horrors to unfold."
Chapter 7
Author's Note: For the record, any references to Bertie's past are genuine and have been documented or at least alluded to in the various Wodehouse stories and novels. I wish I could provide exact references, but I do not have my collection of the Bertie stories at hand.
"Was Miss Bingley reluctant to sever the engagement, sir?"
"No, it isn't Caroline. That's all right. She's as mad as a wet hen."
"I take it, then, that Mr. Darcy was not enthusiastic about the apparent alteration in the object of your affections, sir?"
"You knew that Darcy was there?"
"I took the liberty, sir, of informing Miss Bingley that you were looking for her in the rose garden, so that she would be certain to witness your recent activities, sir. Regrettably, Mr. Darcy was present when I made the communication."
"So he decided to tag along for a lover's tête-à-tête? Very dubious."
"I am afraid, sir, that I am responsible for that as well. I may have mistakenly conveyed to him the impression that Miss Bennet was desirous of an interview with him at the same venue."
"Good God, Jeeves, you rigged the entire debacle! What on earth possessed you to drag Darcy into this mess?"
"You might remember, sir, our conversation about Mr. Darcy a few days ago. We were discussing the poet Wordsworth's suggestion that a pleasant diversion might be effective in alleviating depression. Mr. Darcy is agreeably inclined towards Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It occurred to me that were his partiality to be encouraged, he may not be preoccupied with his responsibilities to the same extent."
"So you decided to set me up as a rival to Darcy! You have created a monster, Jeeves, green-eyed, I might add. Othello may have had a thing or two on him, but not much."
"I trust, sir, that Mr. Darcy was not overly intimidating?"
"Well, I managed to stymie him with that 'brotherly' line for the moment, but what happens when he goes and tells Caroline that all is well? That will be his first move, since he thinks I'm trying to put one over him with Lizzy, and then the wedding bells will ring out again!"
"I think he will find, sir, that Miss Bingley is unenthusiastic about renewing the engagement. I took the liberty of informing her that Lord Yaxley had recently married. She was disturbed to learn of her ladyship's intimate connection with the music halls. And I believe she may have mistakenly gathered that her ladyship would soon be producing an heir to the earldom."
"Jeeves, you think of everything. Do you really think Lizzy's interested in Darcy, though? I would never have guessed."
"Miss Bennet is a stubborn young lady. It is possible that Mr. Darcy might alienate her affections by his apparent indifference, but I should think that they are ideally suited for one another."
"Well, don't pull me into the middle of this one, Jeeves. You know I want a rest from this sort of thing."
"I shall endeavour not to involve you, sir."
I went down to dinner, hardly looking forward to joining a conglomeration of my various nemeses. Fortunately, however, the powers that be had seen fit to arrange matters such that I wouldn't have to confront more than one of them at a time, the rest of them being occupied entirely by each other. Caroline, accordingly, devoted her attentions to Darcy, who had evidently attempted to sell the idea of love's young dream to her and had found his suggestion instantly vetoed. Now she was eager to convey to him her gratitude for his tender solicitude, and evidently had some other ideas about love's young dream of her own. In this regard, however, she found herself making no headway, since Darcy's idea of love's young dream lay obviously in another direction. He made no attempt to conceal the wistful glances he cast in Elizabeth's direction, and, though he remained a valiant trencherman, and did not attempt to push away his food untasted, as others in his condition had done before him (with sometimes regrettable results, as chronicled elsewhere in the archives) he did convey the air that it had turned to ashes in his mouth. Elizabeth, however, was entirely indifferent to his plight. What her views on love's young dream were I cannot assert with any certainty, but, had I been of a morbid disposition, I would not have scrupled to assert that they seemed to involve me. At any rate, she went out of her way to further the impression of cozy companionability with me, and I noticed that her efforts in this direction went a long way in furthering Darcy's gloom, and, in all probability, my own eventual doom.
It was to my great relief, therefore, that I saw her settle down with a book after dinner. I hastened to the card-table, for although it was infested with Hursts, Bungler was one of the foursome as well. Darcy had started a letter on the writing table, but between his own smoldering gazes, which, unfortunately for him, went entirely neglected, and those directed at him from another quarter which he attempted to ignore without the success achieved by the object of his attentions, he was entirely unsuccessful in giving it the requisite attention. This status quo might have persisted indefinitely, had not Hurst, in a remarkable burst of sociability, extended a general invitation to join the card table. This proposal was met with resistance, and Hurst commented, "Do you prefer reading to cards? That is rather singular!"
"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Caroline, "despises cards. She is a great reader, and has no pleasure in anything else."
I thought it rather singular that Caroline should presume to speak for Lizzy rather than for herself, but I thought it prudent to refrain from comment. Lizzy, who had been courting Caroline's ire all evening, had no such scruples.
"I deserve neither such praise nor such censure; I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things."
Caroline decided to let that drop, and turned her attention back to Darcy and his letter.
"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter."
She was rewarded by the sounds of silence. She battled on, marshaling her troops to ignore the setback.
"You write uncommonly fast."
Darcy had evidently decided that for his purposes, attack might prove a more effective means of defence.
"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."
Of course, I could have told him that this was quite the wrong strategy. Caroline was delighted to have an actual response to work with.
"How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a year! Letters of business, too! How odious I should think them!"
"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours," he riposted rather cleverly, allowing his razor-sharp wit free reign. It was all in vain, of course. As far as Caroline was concerned, a cosh (known to American audiences as a blackjack) might have done the trick; his delicate swipe was entirely ignored.
"Pray tell your sister I long to see her."
This, I thought, was going pretty far. Surely there was no possibility that anyone, unless required to do so by the bonds of filial affection, could actually think well of a schoolgirl, of which number Georgiana Darcy was one. Should one attempt to claim that my acquaintance with that species is a trifling one, I should point him to the account in the archives of the occasion on which I had addressed an assemblage of those creatures. Anyway, as I was saying, Georgiana Darcy was a schoolgirl, and despite Jeeves's opinion, I could not but assume that she would prove to be as foul a creature as any other specimen of her class. It a lasting wonder to me that the products of girls' schools should ever be able to accomplish the transformation into the lovely and personable creatures we know and love.
Darcy continued, as stoic a soldier as any I have seen.
"I have already told her so once, by your desire."
Caroline, ever-inventive, tried a new tack.
"I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend pens remarkably well."
"Thank you, but I always mend my own."
And another.
"How can you contrive to write so even?"
Digressing once again, I might note that even repulsive institutions such as the primary school run by the Reverend Aubrey Upjohn, among whose alumni Yours Truly has the misfortune of counting, serve us well in producing a serviceable script, in which rather basic accomplishment Caroline's alma mater had evidently proved less effective, or rather, more defective.
At any rate, Darcy had reverted to the silence tactic, but it was no more effective than the other.
"Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp; and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss Grantley's."
Here was more evidence of the underhanded work perpetrated by these self-same girls' schools. One was almost tempted to forgive the little devils their sins, for where is the soul that would not be soured if inflicted day after day with the prospect of improving on the harp, or of competing to produce a superior table design? How infinitely more ennobling were exercises such as the Scripture Knowledge Competition, the prize for which had once been held by Bertram W. Wooster, or for that matter, the Boat Race!
Darcy tried the caustic come-back once again.
"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At present I have not room to do them justice."
And once again he failed to hit the mark.
"Oh! It is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you always write such charming long letters to her?"
I could tell Darcy's bag of tricks was running low. He had come down to the straight response, with the barest hint of an edge.
"They are generally long; but whether always charming it is not for me to determine."
"It is a rule with me that a person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill."
It was Bungler who here jumped in, attempting, I suppose to put Darcy out of his misery.
"That will not do as a compliment to Darcy, Caroline, because he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables."
I could have told them a thing or two about the efficacy of Darcy's impromptu style, but I refrained. Somehow it occurred to me that my comments on that subject would not be well received in the present company.
"My style of writing is very different from yours," said Darcy, immensely relieved to be addressing anyone other than Caroline. It could not last, of course. Caroline jumped in instantaneously.
"Oh! Charles writes in the most careless way imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest."
This slur seemed to me a very shabby revenge on Caroline's part for her own admission of an inadequate script, but Bungler took it in good spirit.
"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them -- by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."
"Your humility, Mr. Bingley, must disarm reproof," was Lizzy's opening gambit, and a rather sneaky way of entering the debate, in my opinion. Darcy pounced on it at once, but perhaps his brain had been addled in the recent skirmish with Caroline, or perhaps he loved not wisely but too well, for he responded in quite the wrong spirit.
"Nothing is more deceitful than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast."
"And which of the two do you call my recent piece of modesty?"
"The indirect boast, for you are really proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding from your rapidity of thought, which, if not estimable, you think at least highly interesting. The power of doing anything quickly is much prized by the possessor, and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance."
At this stage, I might have done Darcy a favour by pointing out that if this was his idea of wooing, he did not have even the excuse of impetuosity to compensate for the imperfection of the performance. I did not, however, and he spoke on, saying something about Bungler having threatened to quit Netherfield in all of five minutes.
"Nay, it is too much, to remember at night all the foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, I believed what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless precipitance merely to show off before the ladies."
"I dare say you believed it, but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be as dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were mounting the horse, a friend were to say, 'Bingley, you had better stay till next week,' you would probably do it, you would probably not go -- and at another word might stay a month."
Lizzy, obviously, shared my opinion of Darcy's wooing; at any rate, she looked into the tempest and was never shaken.
"You have only proved by this that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself."
"I am exceedingly gratified by your converting what my friend has said into a compliment by the sweetness of your temper. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn that gentleman did by no means intend; for he would certainly think the better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I could."
"Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intention as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?"
The conversation had been growing entirely too enmeshed in hypothetical situations and such. At this point, Bungler began to get a little glassy-eyed, and frankly admitted as much.
"Upon my word, I cannot exactly explain the matter. Darcy must speak for himself."
And well it was that Bungler retreated, for Darcy's first move was to complicate matters still further. I was forced to throw in my cap as analyst, and become reduced to a mere chronicler.
"You expect me to account for opinions you choose to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one argument in favour of its propriety."
"To yield readily -- easily -- to the persuasion of a friend is no merit with you."
"To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either."
"You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of the friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reason one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the circumstance occurs before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend, where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?"
"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting between the parties?"
The waters having subsided somewhat, Bungler plunged in once again, taking a rather clever dig at Darcy.
"By all means, let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size. I assure you, that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison to myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, when he has nothing to do."
Darcy smiled; I saw Lizzy looked at him closely, and stifled her laughter, which had me wondering whether despite Darcy's bungling, Jeeves might be on to something after all. But it was Caroline who leapt to Darcy's defence. Darcy resented the interference, obviously, for he undertook to fight his own battle.
"I see your design, Bingley. You dislike an argument, and want to silence this."
"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me."
"What you ask is no sacrifice on my side, and Mr. Darcy had much better finish his letter."
And finish the letter Darcy did, though his writing process seemed to be facilitated by ardent gazes in her direction of which she seemed entirely unaware. This he must have resented, for he asked her immediately afterward whether she would indulge him with some music. I did not know that Darcy had taken so kindly to the local customs, but at any rate, his ploy failed, for it was Caroline who hastened to the pianoforte.
But Darcy persevered, and when Caroline was playing a scotch air, he drew near Lizzy said, "Do you not feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize the opportunity of dancing a reel?"
I marveled at his devilish cunning. Lizzy, however, was ready for this. She smiled and said nothing, and he was forced to repeat himself, feeling more than a little silly, I imagine.
This time she did respond.
"Oh, I heard you before, but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say 'Yes,' that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell you, that I do not want to dance a reel -- and now despise me if you dare."
"Indeed I do not dare," was his response, and as I saw Lizzy's astonishment at his gallantry, it occurred to me that with Jeeves's help it might be possible that these two would make a go of it after all.
Chapter 8
Another night brought with it the prospect of another opportunity for pleasant and instructive repartee. Inadequate as I had gauged Darcy's progress, he himself was obviously entirely satisfied by his efforts. Moreover, Caroline's sycophancy had forced him to give up any idea of interceding between us with the olive branch. So beyond the elementary precaution of avoiding Lizzy for the duration of the day, which was remarkably simple to accomplish, given that she was playing the ministering angel to her sister, I had not felt it necessary to alter the daily rituals I had undertaken since I had attained a man's estate for fear of Darcy. And my confidence seemed entirely justified, for though Darcy did not come to look upon me as a brother, he did treat me with the tolerance accorded to a harmless member of an inferior species. So, come the evening, I was not hesitant to step once more into the breach.
When I did get downstairs, however, it seemed as though my expectations were entirely in vain. I joined the Hursts and Bungler at the card table once again, but it seemed as though the others were no longer inclined to put up a side-show for our benefit. Rather, they seemed to have been struck by a sudden and severe attack of bibliophilia. Even Lizzy, presumably tired from her gentle ministrations, was no longer inclined to shower me with her attentions, a favour for which I was immeasurably grateful. I ought to have known, of course, that Caroline would never be content to let sleeping dogs lie. This evening, her opening gambit was diversionary, and Bungler was the pawn she chose to sacrifice.
"By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure."
Bungler rose to the bait.
"If you mean Darcy, he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins -- but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nichols has made white soup enough, I shall send round my cards."
I ventured to remark at this juncture that perhaps we might follow the excellent example of the nation's leaders, and put the matter to a vote, but Caroline did not take kindly to the suggestion. Or rather, to be absolutely accurate, she went on as though I had never spoken.
"I should like balls infinitely better if they were carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be more rational if conversation instead of dancing were the order of the day."
Bungler, I thought, acquitted himself quite respectably in the exchange. I would never have suspected such a streak of wit in him, but I supposed that years of experience had revealed hidden deeps.
"Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a ball."
Caroline was frankly stymied, and I would have cheered, were it permissible under the circumstances, for Bungler had snatched victory from the very jaws of defeat.
Caroline, however, was determined to recoup her losses. She got up and walked about the room. It was elegant sight, but I remained firm. What price beauty if the spirit is foul? Darcy was likewise unmoved, but Caroline had plotted her strategies too carefully to give up this easily. In a marvelously devious move, she took all her winnings and staked them on one turn of pitch and toss. She asked Lizzy to join her. She lost. Darcy's head snapped up instantaneously.
It is possible that the careful student of the Netherfield campaign, as I have described it to date, may have assumed, undoubtedly from the best of intentions, that Caroline's command of strategy was infallible, but I must hasten to correct this impression. Caroline undoubtedly had her wits about her, and it is entirely possible that out-Heroding Herod would be child's play for her, but she was as capable of blunder as the next tactician, and it was at this juncture that she made a crucial one. She asked Darcy if he would join them. She might have been able to recoup had he assented, but Darcy was not the man to throw away the sort of opening he had evidently been seeking all evening. He declined, looking suitably enigmatic, and Caroline, having stabbed herself in the back, proceeded to twist the knife by enquiring as to his motives. I might mention that Lizzy, in an act of mercy, did attempt to dissuade her from so doing, but Caroline was not to be dissuaded from her doom. She reiterated her question, and waited complacently for Darcy's move.
"I have not the smallest objection in explaining them. You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are aware that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, I should be completely in your way, and if the second," he paused here for a second, and had he worn a monocle, would certainly have taken the opportunity of polishing it before reinserting it and continuing, "I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire."
I was impressed. I had known that it was time for him to pull out the big guns, but this was smoother than I had anticipated. Caroline, however, still obstinately blundered on.
"Oh! shocking! I have never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?"
There was, of course, no easier way to punish him than to ignore him entirely, a tactic which Lizzy had been using with the greatest of success for some time now, knowing not what she did. I will concede though, that the one she now suggested redeemed her as a skilled tactician in her own right, by design, rather than by accident.
"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination. We can all plague and punish each other. Tease him -- laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done."
Darcy, like any right-minded man, squirmed at this implication of intimacy in such a quarter, and I, recently similarly importuned, would have considered this punishment enough. It was all entirely lost on Caroline, of course.
"But upon my honour I do not. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind! No, no -- I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself."
Peculiar though her suggestion was, Darcy was certainly more likely to hug himself than he was to hug her, which was evidently what she intended to provoke by making such an assertion.
"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at! That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh."
I might have pointed out that Lizzy had had no dearth of opportunities to laugh at Darcy, and a plethora of such acquaintances would almost certainly increase her mirth rather than otherwise, but fragile as my truce with Darcy was, I saw no cause to provoke him further, and let the matter lie. He did not, and immediately set about attempting to make himself a little less ridiculous than Caroline's representation of him.
"Miss Bingley has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of men -- nay, the wisest and the best of their actions -- may be rendered ridiculous by the person whose first object in life is a joke."
"Certainly, there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. 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."
"Such as vanity and pride."
"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride -- where there is real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation."
Lizzy turned away, and smiled in my direction.
Caroline, who had been watching as cannon to right of her and cannon to left of her volleyed and thundered, took the opportunity of this lull to jump right back in again.
"Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume, and pray, what is the result?"
"I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise."
She did not mean a word of it, of course, and her examination had in fact probably augmented her list of his inadequacies considerably, and Darcy, who realized this, was a trifle affronted.
"No, I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but I hope they are not of understanding. My temper I do not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding -- certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever."
Here was a declaration to make me quake in my boots. This was the man who had told me he was watching my every move, and I knew he was convinced I was up to no good. Lizzy, who had no such reason to fear him, took it in quite another spirit.
"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."
Which is ironic, considering that it was she who had put me at risk. But Darcy was unwilling to let the matter rest.
"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency toward some particular evil -- a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome."
"A your defect is a propensity to hate everybody."
"And yours is willfully to misunderstand them." he said, smiling ruefully.
By now, Caroline was standing there looking as though she would do a desperate outrage to herself if they continued like this.
"Do let us have a little music," she cried, resorting in her desperation to the quaint little native custom at whose expense she had enjoyed many laugh. She opened the pianoforte and proceeded to play. Bungler, the Hursts, and I, continued at the card-table. Lizzy returned to her book, and Darcy spent the remainder of the evening positioning his book so that he could enjoy an unimpeded view of Lizzy.
Chapter 9
Author's Note: The Great Sermon Sweepstakes is from a real Bertie Wooster story, as are other events alluded to in other chapters. I can't provide the exact reference, since my Wodehouse collection is at home. Obviously, Collins wasn't really one of the sermon-mongers handicapped. I just sort of stuck him in there.
Jane Bennet recovered in a day or two, and she and Lizzy repaired to Longbourn, allowing me some reprieve. I stayed out of Darcy's way as much as I could, and Caroline stayed out of mine, until, one morning, Jeeves came in as usual, and brought, along with my morning tea, some tidings designed to bring the roses back to my cheeks.
"Are you still determined, sir, to stay out of all matters involving Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"
"You know I won't have you drag me into another one of your infernal schemes, Jeeves."
"Very well, sir. I believe, sir, that Mr. Darcy has most particularly requested that you join the gentlemen for shooting this morning. I attempted to make your apologies, but both he and Mr. Bingley were most insistent."
Darcy skulking about a library was bad enough, but Darcy armed and dangerous was not to be contemplated. Non-interventionism could not be the road to peace in our time, if Darcy had decided to speak softly and carry a big gun.
"All right, Jeeves. Let me have the worst of it. What do I have to do before he throttles me?"
"I do not believe Mr. Darcy will pose any great threat to your health and happiness, sir, when he learns that Miss Bennet is intended for her cousin, Mr. Collins, who is visiting with her family at present."
"That's all very well, Jeeves, but is she? Your story seems a bit thin to me. If Lizzy were in any way, shape, or form engaged to this Collins creature, I am sure Mrs. Bennet would not have neglected to make much of it. For all I know, this Collins could be a figment of your fevered imagination. Don't take this so hard, Jeeves. Darcy's a block-headed fellow, and you are not to be blamed for his block-headedness. Take a break from this sort of thing. Drink plenty of fluids, Jeeves, and eat some fish. You'll be yourself again in no time."
"I appreciate your concern, sir, but I am perfectly well. Mr. Collins is not a figment of my imagination. He is the rector of the parish of Hunsford, and is visiting with the Bennets. He is not in fact intended for Miss Elizabeth, but a certain young creature attached to their household has given me to understand that his interest does tend in that direction. As for Mrs. Bennet's information, Mr. Darcy appears to have perfected the art of avoiding that lady with remarkable success. His knowledge of that lady's conversation is not high, although he is familiar with its general bent. I might even go so far as to suggest that you represent her as the source of your information, sir."
"Have you been stealing kisses from the housemaids again, Jeeves? But wait a minute here. I seem to recall a certain Collins from Steggles' Great Sermon Sweepstakes. He clocked in consistently at 38 minutes, all of it in the praise of some woman who looked a lot more like my Aunt Agatha than the Lord Almighty."
"The very one, sir. The lady in question, his patroness, is Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who is the Aunt of Mr. Darcy."
For a moment I felt almost a kinship with the man, that we each bore such a cross, and were yet able to stand up to the world as men. Then the moment passed, and I returned to the matter at hand, the hands involved being his, and the matter being my neck.
"Darcy isn't going to be jealous of him. He's a pie-eyed cretin."
"Mr. Darcy is not acquainted with Mr. Collins. He will initially be unaware of the hormonal deficiencies of the opposition, although, if I might forward a quasi-medicinal opinion, sir, I see no reason to question the effective functioning of Mr. Collins's thyroid gland. I had an aunt who was thus afflicted, and the symptoms she exhibited were markedly unlike Mr. Collins's."
"Blast your aunt, Jeeves."
"Very well, sir."
"And blast your quackery. If Darcy gets at my throat, it'll take a bigger man than Harley Street can produce to ensure that I get to an age and situation in life where I can start worrying about the effective functioning of the thyroid gland."
"I quite understand your concern, sir, but under the circumstances, it is misplaced. I was about to say sir, that Mr. Collins's deficiencies, although unrelated to his thyroid gland,..."
"Jeeves!"
Yes, sir. If I might continue, sir, when Mr. Darcy does meet Mr. Collins, I fancy it likely that he will be all the more horrified to find that Miss Elizabeth is intended to be the bride of such a man."
"And what happens when he finds out she isn't? No matter what he's thinking, Lizzy isn't going to marry that sub-human specimen, and she'll make it abundantly clear."
"Mr. Collins considers himself bound by the strictest propriety. Having just been acquainted with his cousin, he will not feel at liberty to propose until Sunday next. In the interim, he is likely to interpret her behavior towards him, however cold, as maidenly modesty."
"So you think Darcy will pop the question before Sunday next?"
"One must hope for such an outcome, sir. However, if it does not come to pass, I do not think we need fear that Mr. Collins's suit will be successful. Miss Bennet is a strong-minded young lady."
"It wasn't so much Miss Bennet's matrimonial intentions I was worried about, Jeeves, as the continued effective functioning of my own neck."
"I do not think you need be concerned on that score, sir. Even if your information is proven false, given that you thought her affianced, it will be abundantly clear to Mr. Darcy that you have no intentions towards the young lady."
"Lead on, McDuff. We'll try this your way."