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, on a distant relation; and

their mother's fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply

the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton,

and had left her four thousand pounds.

She had a sister married to a Mr. Phillips, who had been a clerk to their father and

succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in London in a respectable

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 shop 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 amuse 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 headquarters.

Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most interesting

intelligence.

Every day added something to their knowledge of the officers' names and

connections.

Their lodgings were not long a secret, and at length they began to know the officers

themselves.

Mr. Phillips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of felicity

unknown before.

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 regimentals of an ensign.

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

coolly observed:

"From all that I can collect 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 slightingly of anybody's children, it should not be of my

own, however." "If my children are silly, I must hope to

be always sensible 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 coat myself very well--and, indeed, so I do

still at my heart; and if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year,

should want one of my girls I shall not say

nay to him; and I thought Colonel Forster looked very becoming the other night at Sir

William's in his regimentals."

"Mamma," 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."

Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman 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 be in

danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day's tete-a-tete

between two women can never end without a quarrel.

Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine

with the officers.--Yours ever,

"CAROLINE BINGLEY" "With the officers!" cried Lydia.

"I wonder my aunt did not tell us of that." "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. Bennet, are they not?"

"They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them."

"But if you have got them to-day," said Elizabeth, "my mother's purpose will be

answered."

She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses were

engaged.

Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her mother attended her to

the door with many cheerful prognostics of a bad day.

Her hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long before it rained hard.

Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was delighted.

The rain continued the whole evening without intermission; Jane certainly could

not come back.

"This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!" said Mrs. Bennet more than once, as if the

credit of making it rain were all her own.

Till the next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her

contrivance.

Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield brought the following note

for Elizabeth: "MY DEAREST LIZZY,--

"I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be imputed to my

getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not hear of my

returning till I am better.

They insist also on my seeing Mr. Jones-- therefore do not be alarmed if you should

hear of his having been to me--and, excepting a sore throat and headache, there

is not much the matter with me.--Yours, etc."

"Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note aloud, "if your

daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness--if she should die, it would be a

comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders."

"Oh! I am not afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling colds.

She will be taken good care of.

As long as she stays there, it is all very well.

I would go and see her if I could have the carriage."

Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though the

carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman, walking was her only

alternative.

She declared her resolution. "How can you be so silly," cried her

mother, "as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt!

You will not be fit to be seen when you get there."

"I shall be very fit to see Jane--which is all I want."

"Is this a hint to me, Lizzy," said her father, "to send for the horses?"

"No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid the walk.

The distance is nothing when one has a motive; only three miles.

I shall be back by dinner."

"I admire the activity of your benevolence," observed Mary, "but every

impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion, exertion should

always be in proportion to what is required."

"We will go as far as Meryton with you," said Catherine and Lydia.

Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off together.

"If we make haste," said Lydia, as they walked along, "perhaps we may see something

of Captain Carter before he goes."

In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one of the

officers' wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing field after field

at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and

springing over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last

within view of the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing

with the warmth of exercise.

She was shown into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane were assembled, and

where her appearance created a great deal of surprise.

That she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in such dirty weather,

and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth

was convinced that they held her in contempt for it.

She was received, however, very politely by them; and in their brother's manners there

was something better than politeness; there was good humour and kindness.

Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr. Hurst nothing at all.

The former was divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given

to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion's justifying her coming so far

alone.

The latter was thinking only of his breakfast.

Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered.

Miss Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not well enough to

leave her room.

Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her immediately; and Jane, who had only been

withheld by the fear of giving alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note

how much she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance.

She was not equal, however, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left

them together, could attempt little besides expressions of gratitude for the

extraordinary kindness she was treated with.

Elizabeth silently attended her.

When breakfast was over they were joined by the sisters; and Elizabeth began to like

them herself, when she saw how much affection and solicitude they showed for

Jane.

The apothecary came, and having examined his patient, said, as might be supposed,

that she had caught a violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better

of it; advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts.

The advice was followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head

ached acutely.

Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment; nor were the other ladies often

absent; the gentlemen being out, they had, in fact, nothing to do elsewhere.

When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and very unwillingly said

so.

Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only wanted a little pressing to accept

it, when Jane testified such concern in parting with her, that Miss Bingley was

obliged to convert the offer of the chaise

to an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the present.

Elizabeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to Longbourn to

acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply of clothes.