Pride and Prejudice

Chapter 18

Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, and looked

in vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled,

a doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. The certainty

of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections

that might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed

with more than usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the

conquest of all that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it

was not more than might be won in the course of the evening. But in

an instant arose the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted

for Mr. Darcy's pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation to the officers; and

though this was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence

was pronounced by his friend Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied,

and who told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on

business the day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant

smile, "I do not imagine his business would have called him

away just now, if he had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here."

This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught

by Elizabeth, and, as it assured her that Darcy was not less answerable

for Wickham's absence than if her first surmise had been just, every

feeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate

disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility

to the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached

to make. Attendance, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury

to Wickham. She was resolved against any sort of conversation with

him, and turned away with a degree of ill-humour which she could

not wholly surmount even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind

partiality provoked her.

But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every

prospect of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell

long on her spirits; and having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas,

whom she had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary

transition to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to

her particular notice. The first two dances, however, brought a return

of distress; they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward

and solemn, apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong

without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a

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disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of

her release from him was ecstasy.

She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking