It is possible that her refusal is the first indication, albeit a mild one, of her hostility to Darcy, a hostility that presumably stems from her sense of his satirical eye as well as her remembrance of his earlier disparagement of her.

39. Elizabeth's words of refusal may be intended as a criticism of Darcy. On a specific level, she could be implying that he only asked her to dance out of politeness, under the influence of Sir William's pleas, and not from any real interest in dancing with her. On a general level, she could mean to label him as all politeness because she sees him only upholding the outward forms of etiquette, without infusing them with any genuine friendliness or consideration for others.

40. complaisance: obligingness, desire to please.

41. archly: in a playful, saucy, or mischievous manner.

42. complacency: pleasure, satisfaction.

43. the nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people: they are nothing in a social sense (from Miss Bingley's fashionable London perspective), but they think of themselves as important (presumably because of their prominence in local society).

44. One sees Miss Bingley, who knows Darcy well, expecting sharp or critical comments from him.

45. The first indication of her interest in Darcy, and her jealousy of any possible rival.

46. wish you joy: a commonly used expression for congratulating someone on their marriage or engagement.

47. Miss Bingley, eager to discredit Elizabeth in Darcy's opinion, focuses immediately on what will be Elizabeth's, as well as Jane's, principal marital handicap—her family, especially her mother.

Chapter Seven

Mr Bennet's property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed in default of heirs male,1 on a distant relation; and their mother's fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply2 the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney3 in Meryton, and had left her four thousand pounds.

She had a sister married to a Mr. Philips, who had been a clerk to their father, and succeeded him in the business,4 and a brother settled in London in a respectable5 line of trade.

The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and to a milliner's shop6 just over the way. The two youngest of the family, Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions; their minds were more vacant than their sisters', and when nothing better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse7 their morning hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of news the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the head quarters.8

Their visits to Mrs. Philips were now productive of the most interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the officers' names and connections.9 Their lodgings were not long a secret, and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. Philips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a source of felicity unknown before.10 They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley's large fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals11 of an ensign.12

After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr. Bennet coolly observed,

“From all that I can collect13 by your manner of talking, you must be two of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but I am now convinced.”

Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the next morning to London.

“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that you should be so ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly14 of any body's children, it should not be of my own however.”

“If my children are silly I must hope to be always sensible15 of it.”

“Yes —but as it happens, they are all of them very clever.”

“This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly foolish.”

“My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of their father and mother. —When they get to our age I dare say they will not think about officers any more than we do. I remember the time when I liked a red coat16 myself very weiland indeed so I do still at my heart; and if a smart17 young colonel, with five or six thousand a year,18 should want one of my girls, I shall not say nay to him; and I thought Colonel Forster19 looked very becoming the other night at Sir William's in his regimentals.”

“Mama,” cried Lydia, “my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson's as they did when they first came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke's library.”20

Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman21 with a note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield,and the servant waited for an answer. Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was eagerly calling out, while her daughter read,

“Well, Jane, who is it from? what is it about? what does he say? Well, Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love.”

“It is from Miss Bingley,” said Jane, and then read it aloud.

My dear Friend,

If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, we shall he in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day's tète-à-tète between two women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on the receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers. Yours ever,

Caroline Bingley.22

“With the officers!” cried Lydia. “I wonder my aunt did not tell us oithat.”

“Dining out,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that is very unlucky.”

“Can I have the carriage?” said Jane.

“No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to rain; and then you must stay all night.”

“That would be a good scheme,” said Elizabeth, “if you were sure that they would not offer to send her home.”

“Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley's chaise to go to Meryton; and the Hursts have no horses to theirs.”

“I had much rather go in the coach.”

“But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are wanted in the farm, Mr.