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Pride and Prejudice
Mountaineers · 10th–12th
Darcy rides to Longbourn with Bingley and then hardly says a word. Why might he have come?
The tension Mrs. Bennet says Wickham "has some friends, though, perhaps, not so many as he deserves," aiming it at the very man who saved Lydia, while Elizabeth "was in such misery of shame that she could hardly keep her seat."
Notice how Lydia's careless farewell and Mr. Bennet's irony give way to a household stirred up again by the news that Netherfield will be opened.
Wickham, satisfied with his last talk with Elizabeth, never raises its subject again. He and Lydia leave for Newcastle; Lydia promises few letters, Wickham says many pretty things, and Mr. Bennet declares himself proud of so fine a son-in-law. Mrs. Bennet is dull for days, until news comes through her sister Mrs. Philips that Bingley is returning to Netherfield to shoot for several weeks. Mrs. Bennet says the news is nothing to them and is plainly full of hope. Jane changes colour at the news and tells Elizabeth it affects her neither with pleasure nor pain, though Elizabeth sees her spirits are disturbed. Elizabeth wonders whether Bingley comes with his friend’s permission or without it. Mr. Bennet refuses to call on Bingley this time, so Mrs. Bennet resolves to invite him to dinner, and Jane says she can hardly bear the constant talk of him. On the third morning after his arrival, Mrs. Bennet sees Bingley riding toward the house. Elizabeth goes to the window and sees Darcy with him. Kitty and her mother name him as the proud man Mrs. Bennet hates; Jane feels for her sister’s awkwardness, not knowing what Elizabeth knows: that the whole family is indebted to him, and that her own feelings have changed. For half a minute Elizabeth believes his affection is unshaken, then resolves to watch how he behaves. Mrs. Bennet receives Bingley with embarrassing warmth and Darcy with cold politeness, which pains Elizabeth deeply because of what her mother owes him. Darcy asks after the Gardiners and then says almost nothing; he looks at Jane, at Elizabeth and at the ground, and Elizabeth wonders why he came. Mrs. Bennet talks to Bingley about Lydia’s marriage notice and says Wickham has fewer friends than he deserves, a remark Elizabeth knows is aimed at Darcy; in her shame she asks Bingley how long he will stay. Her mother’s offer of the best birds on the manor makes her wish never to see either man again, but her misery eases as Bingley’s admiration for Jane revives. As the gentlemen leave, Mrs. Bennet engages them to dine in a few days, and decides not to ask them that day because nothing less than two courses would do for a man with ten thousand a year.
Begin at the window. Read aloud from “Her daughters were eagerly called” to “sat down again by her sister”, then Kitty’s “that tall, proud man” and her mother’s answer. Ask what each sister does when she is called, and why Elizabeth sits down again so quickly. Then read the long sentence that begins “To Jane, he could be only a man” and ask what Elizabeth knows that no one else at the table knows. Leave why Darcy came alone, because the last written question asks it.
Retell The student retells the chapter in order: Lydia and Wickham’s departure and Mr. Bennet’s joke; the news that Bingley is coming back; Jane’s claim that it means nothing to her; Mr. Bennet’s refusal to call; the two riders seen from the window; the visit, with Mrs. Bennet’s warmth to Bingley and coldness to Darcy, Darcy’s silence, the remark about Wickham’s friends, and Bingley’s reviving interest in Jane; and the dinner invitation. Then the student picks the one moment that matters most and says why the chapter needs it.
Imitate the author After copying, the student writes one sentence on the model of the last copywork sentence: name a person, then hold back the verb with a long clause about something only that person knows, and only then say how a scene made them feel. End on a short, cool phrase that names the cause, as Austen ends on “a distinction so ill applied”. The scene can be any room where someone knows more than the people around them.
Debate Take sides on the last written question. One side argues that Darcy came for Elizabeth, and gathers his question about the Gardiners, Elizabeth’s two “perhaps” reasons for his silence, her mother’s coldness, and the contrast with Derbyshire. The other side argues that he came as Bingley’s friend, to watch, and gathers his eyes on Jane and on the ground, his “less anxiety to please”, and Elizabeth’s earlier wavering about Bingley and “his friend’s permission”. Each side must answer the other’s strongest line. No side may state Darcy’s feelings as fact, say that Bingley will propose, or say that Darcy knows Elizabeth has learned of his part in Lydia’s marriage.
Purpose Close on where the chapter stops. It does not end with Elizabeth’s thoughts or with Darcy, but with Mrs. Bennet deciding not to ask the men to stay, because nothing less than two courses would “satisfy the appetite and pride of one who had ten thousand a year.” Ask why Austen ends a visit full of hidden feeling on a mother’s dinner plans, and what the word “pride” there shows about how little Mrs. Bennet knows.
Easier Read aloud the window scene from “Her daughters were eagerly called” to “equal to what she had known on first witnessing his altered behaviour in Derbyshire”, and the visit from “Darcy, after inquiring of her” to “could hardly keep her seat”. Talk about what “voluntarily”, “complaisance” and “levelled” mean in the chapter. Talk through the questions on Jane and her mother and on what Elizabeth asks Bingley, then answer the last written question aloud before writing it.
On level Talk through all five discussion questions in order, then write all three written questions as a thesis, the strongest objection and a revised thesis, each with lines from the chapter.
Harder Ask for one argued essay on silence in this chapter: Jane’s silences she does not notice, Elizabeth’s secret and the courage she lacks to tell it, and Darcy’s near-silent visit. The essay should judge whether Austen treats silence as something that hides feeling or something that shows it, meet the strongest objection, and must not judge by anything that happens later in the book.
1. Once Lydia and Wickham are out of the house, Mr. Bennet says he is “prodigiously proud” of his new son-in-law. Who is the joke on?Tone
What it asks It asks the student to hear the irony that opens the chapter, before anyone mentions Netherfield. Lydia leaves with “married women have never much time for writing. My sisters may write to _me_. They will have nothing else to do.” Wickham’s goodbyes are “much more affectionate than his wife’s. He smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things.” Then Mr. Bennet speaks, “as soon as they were out of the house”: “He is as fine a fellow,” and “as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas himself to produce a more valuable son-in-law.” His wife does not answer; the loss of Lydia leaves her “very dull for several days.” The same note returns later, when Mrs. Bennet praises Wickham to Bingley in earnest and aims a slight at Darcy. The card does not say what Mr. Bennet knows about who made the marriage possible; this chapter does not tell us.
On Wickham. Every word of praise is an exposure: a man who “simpers”, “smirks” and “makes love to us all” is a flatterer, and Mr. Bennet has seen it. The scene has just shown Wickham smiling, looking handsome and saying “many pretty things”, so the father is naming exactly what everyone watched. On this reading the praise is the insult, and Mr. Bennet is the one person in the house who sees the son-in-law clearly.
He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us all.
He smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things.
On the family, himself included. Sir William Lucas, whose daughter Mrs. Bennet later lists as “married and settled”, is the neighbour to beat, and the boast that no one could produce “a more valuable son-in-law” mocks the whole contest of marrying daughters off. Mr. Bennet is the father of the bride. The man he mocks is now his son-in-law, and he would not hear of the family going with the couple to Newcastle. On this reading the joke is how he bears a defeat he cannot undo, and it lands on his own house as much as on Wickham.
I defy even Sir William Lucas himself to produce a more valuable son-in-law.
as her husband by no means entered into her scheme of their all going to Newcastle
A strong answer A strong response names a target and grounds it in the farewell. One reader hears the joke aimed at Wickham: “simpers” and “smirks” describe the man we have just watched say “many pretty things”, so the praise exposes him. Another hears it aimed at the family and at Mr. Bennet himself: the boast against Sir William Lucas mocks the race to marry daughters, and the father who makes it now has Wickham for a son. The best answers notice that Mrs. Bennet’s grief follows straight after the joke, and that the chapter will soon hear Wickham praised again, this time in earnest.
2. Mrs. Bennet says Bingley “is nothing to us,” and Jane says the news gives her neither pleasure nor pain. Which of them understands her own feelings better?Character
What it asks It asks the student to set two denials side by side and judge self-knowledge, not honesty. Mrs. Bennet hears the news and is “quite in the fidgets. She looked at Jane, and smiled, and shook her head, by turns.” Then: “Not that I care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am sure I never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcome to come to Netherfield, if he likes it. And who knows what _may_ happen? But that is nothing to us. You know, sister, we agreed long ago never to mention a word about it. And so, it is quite certain he is coming?” Jane “had not been able to hear of his coming without changing colour,” and tells Elizabeth, “I do assure you that the news does not affect me either with pleasure or pain.” The narrator says this is what she “really believed to be her feelings”, yet Elizabeth finds her spirits “more disturbed, more unequal, than she had often seen them.” Later Jane says, “I could see him with perfect indifference; but I can hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of,” and at the visit “she did not always know when she was silent.” The card does not say that Bingley will propose.
Mrs. Bennet. Her denial fools no one, and least of all herself. She says Bingley is nothing to them and in the same breath asks whether it is “quite certain he is coming”; she wonders aloud what “may” happen; she breaks the rule never to mention it while she states the rule. She knows exactly what she hopes and only puts a polite face on it. Jane “really believed” her own claim, while her colour, her spirits and her silences say otherwise. On this reading the foolish mother knows her heart, and the wise daughter is the one who cannot read her own.
And so, it is quite certain he is coming?
In spite of what her sister declared, and really believed to be her feelings
Jane. She watches herself and keeps revising what she finds. She admits “I know I appeared distressed,” names the pain she can feel, “I dread other people’s remarks,” and by the second talk says, “I begin to be sorry that he comes at all.” She may be wrong about her indifference, but she is right about what she cannot bear, and the visit shows her mother giving her cause. Mrs. Bennet says one thing and its opposite and never notices the clash: she “never” wants to see him again, and is soon planning to have him to dine. On this reading Jane is mistaken about part of her heart, while her mother cannot hear herself at all.
Not that I am afraid of myself, but I dread other people’s remarks.
I begin to be sorry that he comes at all
A strong answer A strong response chooses one of the two and grounds the choice in both speeches. One reader finds that Mrs. Bennet knows her own feelings perfectly and only dresses them up: her denial breaks down within the same speech, so she is not fooled by it. Another finds that Jane knows herself better: she admits her distress, names the dread of being talked about, and revises her account as the day comes nearer, while her mother cannot hear her own contradictions. The best answers notice that the narrator separates what Jane says from what she “really believed”, so the question is about knowing oneself, not about lying.
3. After seeing Darcy from the window, Elizabeth says, “Let me first see how he behaves.” Is that good sense, or is she afraid to hope?Character
What it asks It asks the student to judge the rule Elizabeth sets herself before the visit. Her astonishment is “at his coming--at his coming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again”. Then: “The colour which had been driven from her face returned for half a minute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to her eyes, as she thought for that space of time that his affection and wishes must still be unshaken; but she would not be secure.” “Let me first see how he behaves,” said she; “it will then be early enough for expectation.” She sits “intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring to lift up her eyes.” After she has watched him, “She was disappointed, and angry with herself for being so.” The card does not say whether Darcy’s feelings are unchanged, or why he came.
Good sense. She allows herself half a minute of delight and then asks for evidence. She has misjudged Darcy before: to Jane he is still a man “whose merits she had undervalued”. A woman who learned that lesson would want to see before she believes. The visit gives her reason for care, since he looks “more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, than as she had seen him at Pemberley.” On this reading waiting is what her past mistakes have taught her.
but she would not be secure.
whose merits she had undervalued
Afraid to hope. The hope has come before the rule: her colour returns “with an additional glow” and she smiles with delight. Waiting cannot undo that; it only puts off calling it hope. When she has seen him, she is “disappointed, and angry with herself for being so”, and only someone who had hoped could be disappointed. On this reading “Let me first see” is a way to hope without admitting it, and her anger is at being caught by her own heart.
The colour which had been driven from her face returned for half a minute with an additional glow
She was disappointed, and angry with herself for being so.
A strong answer A strong response judges the rule and grounds it in the moment at the window and what follows. One reader finds good sense in it: she allows herself half a minute of delight and then waits for evidence, which suits a woman who has undervalued Darcy before. Another finds it a guard against a hope already felt: the glow comes first, and her later disappointment shows the hope was there all along. The best answers notice that she is angry with herself, not with him, and ask what that anger says about the rule she set.
4. While her mother talks about Lydia’s wedding in the papers, Elizabeth “dared not lift up her eyes”, so we never learn how Darcy looked. What does the scene gain by hiding his face from us?Author's choice
What it asks It asks the student to notice a gap Austen leaves on purpose. Mrs. Bennet tells Bingley about the notice of Lydia’s marriage: “It was only said, ‘Lately, George Wickham, Esq., to Miss Lydia Bennet,’ without there being a syllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or anything. It was my brother Gardiner’s drawing up, too, and I wonder how he came to make such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?” Then: “Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Elizabeth dared not lift up her eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could not tell.” The word “therefore” ties what we learn to where Elizabeth’s eyes are. Moments later comes the remark about Wickham’s friends, and Elizabeth “knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy”. The card does not say that Darcy knows Elizabeth has learned of his part in the marriage.
It keeps us inside Elizabeth. We know what she knows and see what she sees, so when she cannot look, we cannot either. The reader sits through her mother’s chatter about the wedding with no clue to how it lands, which is exactly her misery. On this reading the gap is a way of making us share her shame instead of watching it.
Elizabeth dared not lift up her eyes.
How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could not tell.
It keeps Darcy unreadable. If we saw him wince, or smile, or look cold, we would know far more about why he came and what he feels. Austen gives us only what he does: one question, long silence, eyes on Jane or on the ground. On this reading the hidden face keeps the chapter’s real question open, and the comedy sharper too, since Mrs. Bennet is grumbling about the wedding in front of the man her family owes for it.
said scarcely anything
and frequently on no object but the ground
A strong answer A strong response names what the hidden face does and grounds it in the line “How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could not tell.” One reader finds that it keeps us inside Elizabeth, so we share her shame instead of watching it. Another finds that it keeps Darcy unreadable, leaving us only his silence and where his eyes go. The best answers notice that both readings can be true at once, and that the gap falls exactly where the family’s debt is being talked about without anyone knowing it.
5. Mrs. Bennet aims a remark about Wickham’s friends at Darcy, and the shame of it pushes Elizabeth to speak. She asks Bingley how long he means to stay. Why that question, and why ask Bingley?Character
What it asks It asks the student to weigh the one thing Elizabeth chooses to say when shame pushes her into speech, and whom she says it to. Until then she has said “as little to either as civility would allow”. Mrs. Bennet ends her talk of the Regulars with “Thank heaven! he has _some_ friends, though, perhaps, not so many as he deserves.” “Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such misery of shame that she could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her, however, the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually done before; and she asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay in the country at present. A few weeks, he believed.” Earlier: “She was in no humour for conversation with anyone but himself; and to him she had hardly courage to speak. She inquired after his sister, but could do no more.” The card does not say that Bingley will propose or how long he will stay.
Because anything said to Darcy would say too much. She has “hardly courage to speak” to him at all, and after her mother’s insult, any word to him would sound like an apology she cannot explain. Bingley is safe. A plain question to him turns the room away from Wickham without pointing at what just happened. On this reading speaking to Bingley is a way of protecting Darcy from her mother without letting anyone see that she is doing it.
and to him she had hardly courage to speak
It drew from her, however, the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually done before
Because even in her shame she is working for Jane. The one question she asks is the question Jane cannot ask: how long he means to stay. Her mind runs to her sister at once, and a moment later she is sure that her mother’s fawning would ruin a second chance. On this reading the question to Bingley is less an escape than a service, and it shows where her loyalty turns first.
she asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay in the country at present
Were the same fair prospect to arise at present, as had flattered them a year ago, everything, she was persuaded, would be hastening to the same vexatious conclusion.
A strong answer A strong response explains both the question and the choice of Bingley, and grounds them in the moment after the insult. One reader finds that any word to Darcy would say too much, since she had “hardly courage to speak” to him, so she turns the room by asking the safe man a plain question. Another finds that she is still working for Jane, asking how long he will stay, the one thing her sister cannot ask. The best answers notice that the question both changes the subject and serves Jane, and that the man she owes most is the one she cannot address.
1. Suppose Mrs. Bennet knew what Darcy had done for Lydia. Would the visit have been any easier for Elizabeth?
What it asks It asks the student to imagine the visit without the secret, take a side on whether it would hurt less, and so find what Elizabeth’s misery is made of. As it is, Bingley “was received by Mrs. Bennet with a degree of civility which made her two daughters ashamed, especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of her courtesy and address of his friend.” “Elizabeth particularly, who knew that her mother owed to the latter the preservation of her favourite daughter from irremediable infamy, was hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill applied.” When her mother says Wickham has friends, “though, perhaps, not so many as he deserves,” Elizabeth “knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy” and is “in such misery of shame that she could hardly keep her seat.” The chapter also shows what Mrs. Bennet’s favour looks like. She offers Bingley the birds on Mr. Bennet’s manor, and “Elizabeth’s misery increased at such unnecessary, such officious attention!” She tells him he is “quite a visit in my debt”, and will not ask the men to dine that day because nothing less than two courses could do. The student builds the other visit from these lines and says what it shows. The card brings in nothing about the rescue beyond what this chapter states, and does not say that Darcy knows Elizabeth has learned of his part in Lydia’s marriage.
Just as hard, in a new way. Knowing, Mrs. Bennet would turn on Darcy the warmth she turns on Bingley, and the chapter shows what that warmth is like: the coveys saved for him, the reminder that he is in her debt, the two courses fit for a man of “ten thousand a year”. Elizabeth’s misery “increased” at that kind of attention to Bingley, a man the family owes nothing. Loud thanks for saving Lydia from “irremediable infamy” would also bring the family’s disgrace into the room in front of company. On this reading the counterfactual shows that the deeper trouble is her mother’s manner, which knowledge would redirect but not change.
Elizabeth’s misery increased at such unnecessary, such officious attention!
I beg you will come here and shoot as many as you please on Mr. Bennet’s manor.
Far easier. What hurts Elizabeth “to a most painful degree” is not warmth or coldness in itself but “a distinction so ill applied”: the cold welcome goes to the one man the family owes most, and the remark about Wickham’s friends is “levelled” at him. Knowledge would end that injustice, and with it the part of the pain that is hers “particularly”. Jane, who knows nothing of the debt, is ashamed of her mother too, but the misery of the barbed remark is given to Elizabeth, who knows whom it strikes. On this reading the secret is the heart of the misery, and the counterfactual shows it by taking the secret away.
Elizabeth particularly, who knew that her mother owed to the latter the preservation of her favourite daughter from irremediable infamy, was hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill applied.
Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such misery of shame that she could hardly keep her seat.
A strong answer A strong response might argue that the visit would have been just as hard: Mrs. Bennet would turn on Darcy the “unnecessary, such officious attention” that already makes Elizabeth’s misery increase with Bingley, so the trouble lies in her mother’s manner more than in the secret. Key evidence to consider includes the offer of the coveys and the reminder that Bingley is “quite a visit in my debt”, which show what her favour looks like. The strongest objection is that Elizabeth is hurt “particularly” and “to a most painful degree” by “a distinction so ill applied”, a pain that exists only because the favour goes to the wrong man and only she knows it. A revised thesis might hold that knowledge would trade one shame for another: the injustice would end, but the mother’s manner would stay, now aimed at the man Elizabeth least wants to see embarrassed.
2. Elizabeth feels that “years of happiness” could not make up for the worst of the visit. A few lines later, Austen repeats the phrase just as her misery eases. How seriously does Austen take her despair?
What it asks It asks the student to judge the narrator’s tone at the height of the visit. “At that instant she felt, that years of happiness could not make Jane or herself amends for moments of such painful confusion.” Then, to herself: “Their society can afford no pleasure that will atone for such wretchedness as this! Let me never see either one or the other again!” The next paragraph: “Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no compensation, received soon afterwards material relief, from observing how much the beauty of her sister rekindled the admiration of her former lover.” Bingley “every five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention.” Darcy, meanwhile, has said “scarcely anything”, and Elizabeth has already asked herself, “Yet why did he come?” The card does not say that Bingley will propose.
Not very. The repeated phrase is a gentle joke: what “years of happiness” could not repair is eased within minutes. The words around it, “amends”, “atone”, “compensation”, “material relief”, are the language of debts and accounts, and they make her vow sound like a grand claim that the next paragraph settles cheaply. On this reading Austen is fond of Elizabeth but smiles at her extremity, as she smiles at Mrs. Bennet’s, and the reader is invited to smile too.
Let me never see either one or the other again!
Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no compensation, received soon afterwards material relief
Seriously. The relief comes from Jane’s side only: what eases is the fear for her sister, as Bingley warms to her again. Nothing in the paragraph relieves Elizabeth’s own trouble. Darcy is still silent, and her question, “Yet why did he come?”, is still unanswered. On this reading the irony touches the vow, not the pain. Austen lets us smile at how fast one misery lifts while showing that the deeper one stays.
from observing how much the beauty of her sister rekindled the admiration of her former lover
Yet why did he come?
A strong answer A strong response might argue that Austen treats the despair lightly: the repeated “years of happiness” is undone by “material relief” within minutes, and the words of debt make the vow sound like a bill paid cheaply. Key evidence to consider includes the vow itself, “Let me never see either one or the other again!”, set right before its undoing. The strongest objection is that the relief belongs to Jane’s side of the visit, while Elizabeth’s own question, “Yet why did he come?”, stays open. A revised thesis might hold that Austen laughs at the size of Elizabeth’s words but not at the cause of her pain.
3. Darcy rides to Longbourn with Bingley and then hardly says a word. Why might he have come?
What it asks It asks the whole question of the chapter. When Elizabeth sees him from the window, her astonishment is “at his coming--at his coming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again”. For half a minute she thinks that “his affection and wishes must still be unshaken”, “but she would not be secure.” “Let me first see how he behaves,” she says. At the visit “He looked serious as usual; and, she thought, more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, than as she had seen him at Pemberley. But, perhaps, he could not in her mother’s presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was a painful, but not an improbable, conjecture.” He asks after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and then “said scarcely anything. He was not seated by her: perhaps that was the reason of his silence; but it had not been so in Derbyshire.” When she looks up “she as often found him looking at Jane as at herself, and frequently on no object but the ground. More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please, than when they last met, were plainly expressed.” “Could I expect it to be otherwise?” said she. “Yet why did he come?” Before he arrived, Elizabeth had wavered over whether Bingley came “_with_ his friend’s permission, or being bold enough to come without it.” The card does not say why Darcy came, whether his feelings for Elizabeth are unchanged, whether Bingley came with his permission or without it, that Bingley will propose, or that Darcy knows Elizabeth has learned of his part in Lydia’s marriage.
For Elizabeth, and the silence is the room’s fault. He comes to the house where she lives, and the one question he asks her is about her aunt and uncle, the people he was easy with at Pemberley. Elizabeth offers two reasons for his quiet that leave his coming intact: he is not seated by her, and he cannot be himself before her mother. The visit bears her out, since her mother greets him with cold politeness and then aims a slight at him. On this reading the silence is what a man does in a hostile room, and the ride itself says what he does not.
He was not seated by her: perhaps that was the reason of his silence
But, perhaps, he could not in her mother’s presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt.
As Bingley’s friend, to watch. He looks “at Jane as at herself”, and at the ground; he shows “More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please” than at their last meeting. Elizabeth’s own earlier wavering, over whether Bingley came “_with_ his friend’s permission”, suggests that Darcy’s word counts with Bingley, and a friend might come to see how Jane receives him. On this reading the silence is that of an observer, not a suitor, and Elizabeth’s disappointment is the measure of how much she had hoped otherwise.
she as often found him looking at Jane as at herself, and frequently on no object but the ground
More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please, than when they last met, were plainly expressed.
A strong answer A strong response might argue that Darcy came for Elizabeth and that the room silenced him: he asks after her aunt and uncle, is not seated by her, and meets a mother whose coldness Elizabeth herself blames, in a “painful, but not an improbable, conjecture.” Key evidence to consider includes the contrast with Derbyshire, where “he had talked to her friends when he could not to herself.” The strongest objection is that he looks “at Jane as at herself” and shows “less anxiety to please”, which fits a friend watching Jane at least as well as a suitor. A revised thesis might hold that Austen lets us see only his silence and where his eyes go, through Elizabeth’s own uncertain eyes, so that her question, “Yet why did he come?”, becomes the reader’s too.
Consoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear her husband’s incivility; though it was very mortifying to know that her neighbours might all see Mr. Bingley, in consequence of it, before they did.Rudeness; a failure of the ordinary politeness owed to others (in-, not, and civility, courteous behaviour, from Latin civilis, fit for a citizen). In his wife’s eyes, Mr. Bennet’s refusal to call on Bingley is his “incivility”. The word turns back on her a few paragraphs later, when she resolves to be “civil” to Darcy “only as Mr. Bingley’s friend”, and her cold politeness to him, set beside her warmth to Bingley, shames both her daughters.
Her astonishment at his coming--at his coming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again, was almost equal to what she had known on first witnessing his altered behaviour in Derbyshire.Of one’s own free will; without being asked or made to (from Latin voluntas, will or wish). No one at Longbourn has invited Darcy, and Mr. Bennet has refused even to call on Bingley. When Elizabeth sees him “voluntarily seeking her again”, the word is her reading of the visit: he chose to come. Why he chose it is the chapter’s open question.
On the gentlemen’s appearing, her colour increased; yet she received them with tolerable ease, and with a propriety of behaviour equally free from any symptom of resentment, or any unnecessary complaisance.An eagerness to please; going out of one’s way to be agreeable (from Latin complacere, to please greatly, through French complaisant). Do not confuse it with complacence, being pleased with oneself. Jane receives Bingley with neither “resentment” nor “unnecessary complaisance”: not cold, not eager. Her mother, a few lines later, shows him all the complaisance Jane holds back.
Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such misery of shame that she could hardly keep her seat.Aimed, as a gun is levelled at a target (from level, to make even or bring into line; British spelling with a double l). Mrs. Bennet’s remark is about Wickham’s friends, but Elizabeth knows it is “levelled at Mr. Darcy”. The word shows a remark that looks one way and hits another, and the target is the man the family owes most.
Elizabeth particularly, who knew that her mother owed to the latter the preservation of her favourite daughter from irremediable infamy, was hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill applied.Beyond cure; impossible to put right (ir-, not, and remedy). The phrase “irremediable infamy” names the disgrace Lydia faced before her marriage, a shame with no way back. The word measures the size of the debt: Darcy did not ease a trouble, he prevented one that could never have been undone.