How dare the Bingleys be so open about what they wanted?We want to be you, and we are setting about doing exactly that. We shall worm our way into your society, ingratiate ourselves to you, copy your houses, buy what we can from you, be amiable and make you laugh, and then, well, when it comes down to it, our money is just easier to get to than yours. It’s not tied up in things. It’s there for spending.
Yes, that was the difference.
Bingley spent money.
I tried not to.
Money was meant to be accumulated, not let go of. Spending money was not the way of getting more, I had always thought.
But Bingley and his ilk, they had ideas about that, and they were proving us wrong. Spending money did indeed lead to getting more, it seemed, but only if one knew how to spend it. I’d not been schooled that way. I’d been schooled in ancient ways of doing things, but the world was changing. Anyone with eyes could see that.
Was that why I was here?
Perhaps.
Caroline was not satisfied with my silence, and she sought to draw me out, she began speaking to me about Georgiana. Was she much grown since they had seen her last?
But I did not wish to speak about Georgiana, truly. I wonder if Caroline could sense this. Perhaps she could see that Georgiana was my weak point, and she liked to use that to her advantage. I could not say. But whatever the case, Caroline pushed and pushed, and I pushed back, and then, somehow, we were in a conversation about how it was we should define accomplishment amongst ladies.
I disagreed with Bingley just to disagree with him. I did this often. He was a good sport about it, I thought.
We were friends, but our friendship had little shards in it somewhere. Maybe he was annoyed because I would never accept his transactional offers, would never take in return what he wished to pay for the services I rendered him? But if so, he bore it with smiles and shrugs, sunny and unaffected.
He seemed to accept the idea that he had befriended a man who was rarely in a good temper, who would say all manner of sardonic things that weren’t entirely complimentary, who would agree with whatever came out of his bratty youngest sister Caroline’s mouth, especially if it seemed to rile him up, and thatthis was a small price to pay for whatever social currency I would give him to spend.
I did not understand that about him, I must say.
Perhaps I pushed at him all the harder because of it. So, at this point, I made the pronouncement, and I made it precisely to contradict Bingley, who had said something about how all young ladies were accomplished, and that they were all doing all manner of things, painting, drawing, singing, composing dramatic poetry, et cetera. And I said, “The problem is that, since everyone is considered accomplished, the word has lost all its meaning. If all women are accomplished, none are. In all truth, I can think of no more than a half dozen ladies of my personal acquaintance who are truly accomplished.”
Elizabeth Bennet made a noise of disbelief in her throat.
I turned to look at her, having sort of forgotten she was even there. The look on her face rather startled me as I became aware of something that turned my insides to ice.
She was gazing at me with the kind of contempt women reserve only for men who they feel are the worst specimens of the species. It was really something to behold. “Then you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.”
This woman does not like me,I realized. “Yes,” I said carefully, “I do comprehend a great deal in it.”
Caroline was babbling some kind of agreement with me. She was all excitement, but I was looking at Elizabeth, who was practically sneering at me.
This woman despises me,I realized. What had I done to her that she felt that way? Now, I wondered if this was why she’d refused to dance with me at the Lucas dinner. How strange. I had not ever experienced this.
Well, obviously, people had hated me before. Wickham hated me, after all, but a woman, a young woman, a woman Ifound attractive, hating me? It smote me, I must say. I didn’t like it. I did not know how to interact with it.
Caroline finished speaking and looked to me.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “All of that is entirely what a woman should possess.”
Elizabeth’s sneer deepened.
“And,” I said, nodding at Elizabeth’s book, “she must add something more substantial, the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”
Elizabeth scoffed, looking away, shaking her head in disbelief. “I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder at your knowing any.”
What had Caroline even said? What had her list been? I glanced at her for help, but she was just smiling widely, as if setting Elizabeth and me at odds had been the best thing that she could have imagined happening, and perhaps it was. I grimaced. “Oh, come now, madam, you must not be severe upon your entire sex. You can’t think that women can’t be accomplished.”
“I never saw such a woman,” she said with a shrug. “I think it’s an imagination in your mind. I think, Mr. Darcy, that you may have standards so high that they may never be filled.”
“I think, Mr. Darcy,” spoke up Mr. Hurst, “that we are neglecting the game. It is your turn.”
