5. The Card Despiser
Later in the evening, they were playing at loo when Miss Elizabeth appeared. Once again, she entered the room and paid him not the slightest attention. She glanced at the table, then picked up a book to pass her time in the parlour.
Bingley and Hurst begged her to join them, but she politely declined.
Miss Bingley tried her best to be snide, implying that either Miss Elizabeth was a bluestocking who read constantly and had no pleasure in anything else, or that she was too poor to afford the table stakes. Miss Elizabeth just batted her comments away like an annoying fly, but Miss Bingley had the bit in her teeth and turned a general comment about reading versus other pursuits into a long paean to Darcy’s library in Pemberley.
Darcy paid strict attention to Miss Elizabeth with that discussion, but she gave no more reaction to that than to anything else. All he knew for certain was that she must not have found the company all that congenial, since she had not laughed or smiled for a much longer time than when he observed her in her natural element.
Miss Bingley seemed to have a burr in her blanket, or perhaps she was remembering that Darcy had commented on Miss Elizabeth’s fine eyes at Lucas Lodge, but either way she just wanted to keep pushing and prodding.
“Miss Elizabeth, you said you are not a great reader, and you have pleasure in many things. Why not cards?”
“I did not say I do not play cards,” she replied with thinly disguised annoyance. “I said I was content with my book.”
Darcy had been paying little attention to his own cards, and gave even more to the conversation, which was frankly more interesting.
After a bit of back and forth between the two, Miss Bingley finally asked in a tone of poisoned honey, “We could play for pence, if you prefer.”
The intended slight was not particularly subtle, even though it was disguised as concern for the comfort of her guest and her purse.
Darcy watched Miss Elizabeth like a hawk, wondering if she was going to lose her temper. It seemed unlikely, but one could always hope.
Nobody seemed willing to dive into the middle of a cat fight, and Miss Elizabeth stared her adversary down for what seemed quite a long time, though it was probably only a few moments.
She finally replied. “I am happy to play cards if you insist, but any team game seems unfair since you have all known each other for years, and I have no notion of your relative skills. If you are so desperate for me to play, I shall oblige you. The game is Brag [1] . I shall play until I need to return to Jane.”
With that, she jumped up from the sofa, walked out into the corridor for a moment, then returned and dropped five guineas on the table, which she obviously had secreted in a pocket somewhere since she had no reticule.
Everyone stared in shock, and she asked nonchalantly, “If that is too rich for your blood, I suppose we could use Miss Bingley’s idea of pence, though I do not have anything that small.”
Darcy shook his head and wondered. They had been playing high, but not five guineas high. He did occasionally play for that and more, and he knew men who gambled away entire estates and fortunes—but it was a remarkably high bet for a simple country house. Apparently, Miss Elizabeth did have a temper, and she was throwing down the gauntlet. Those stakes were enormous in their current situation, probably one to three month’s allowance for the lady. Darcy doubted Hurst could afford to lose very many games at that level—not that the man would think himself in the slightest danger from a woman .
The rest of the party sat down while Hurst shuffled, and they started the vastly more interesting game. Play commenced for a few minutes, before conversation resumed unevenly.
Miss Bingley was constitutionally incapable of silence, so she made a few comments about Darcy’s sister. He did not want to discuss her for obvious reasons, so he gave one-word answers, none of which impeded Miss Bingley in the least.
“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”
Darcy grumbled at the topic but obviously had to keep such mutterings to himself.
“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”
“All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?”
“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.”
Darcy thought it might be better to concentrate on such accomplishments as refraining from eloping with scoundrels. He could not say that, of course, not to mention the fact that play was continuing, and he was not doing particularly well.
In the end, he alluded to only knowing half a dozen truly accomplished women, hoping that would shut the discussion down. No such luck.
Miss Elizabeth seemed to take particular delight in goading Miss Bingley, though she was still studiously avoiding Darcy as far as he could tell.
“ You must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman, ” she threw out nonchalantly as she laid down three of a kind and claimed the pot.
Everyone stared a bit at that, though why they did not expect a simple country girl to win occasionally was a mystery.
Miss Bingley took the bait readily. “No one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved.”
“All this she must possess,” added Darcy, “and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”
He had no idea why he said that, or even if he cared at all about the discussion. He mostly was poking the bear—trying to goad Miss Elizabeth into answering him directly.
The deal had come to Miss Elizabeth, who shuffled and dealt skilfully. Of course, every young lady had some skill with cards, so the ability to shuffle well meant little. Darcy waited anxiously to see if Miss Elizabeth would have anything to add to the discussion, and if so, if she would respond to Caroline, himself, or the table at large.
She glanced around the table and seemed ready to let the subject drop (wisely), but Bingley was not quite ready to let it go. “What think you, Miss Elizabeth?”
“About what?”
“Accomplishments.”
She shrugged a bit. “I have no horse in that race, as I dispute the premise,” then she raised her bet.
Much to everyone’s surprise, Hurst weighed in. “Does that mean you have no opinion, or you possess a different idea of what is required to be accomplished?”
Everyone stared at him in shock, and Darcy wondered if the discussion were finally interesting enough to bring the indolent man to life, his barging in was a way to distract the others so he could fleece them with the cards, or perhaps Hurst just enjoyed goading Miss Elizabeth to further annoy his sister-in-law. The last theory had much to recommend it, and Darcy thought Hurst would happily pay more than five Guinea’s to vex Caroline.
“I do,” Miss Elizabeth said, apparently in the mood to make them drag it out of her as play continued, though nobody was paying very rapt attention to the cards.
“Care to elaborate?” Hurst replied.
“I doubt anybody would find it interesting.”
“I most certainly would!” Bingley replied emphatically as he made his own play.
Elizabeth looked around the table and sighed in apparent resignation, seeming for all the world to think it the dullest subject imaginable.
“Those things you mention are little more than husband hunting bait . For the most part, they are worthless once you snare the poor man. For myself, I have always thought it smarter to worry about the last fifty.”
All play stopped for a minute, but Miss Elizabeth moved it along by making another play and then goading Miss Bingley to make her own rather poor play when she paused.
Bingley finally asked, “The last fifty?”
“Yes—the last fifty. Miss Bingley’s list of accomplishments is useful in certain times and places, such as a London ballroom, for a season or two—perhaps three if a lady is particularly unattractive or unlucky,” she said, with a glance at Caroline who was on at least her fourth season. “If such an accomplished lady manages to catch the gentleman, then she spends the next fifty years being the mistress of an estate. I simply prefer to worry about those fifty years more than the few brief seasons of courtship, which are ephemeral in the grand scheme of things.”
Darcy rather expected howls of outrage, but instead they had dead silence. Naturally, he was not about to break it, but Miss Elizabeth helpfully said, “Your turn, Mr Bingley.”
As if Hurst’s intervention were not unusual enough, his wife entered the fray with a question that was uncharacteristically devoid of anything her own sister might think. “Might you elaborate?”
Elizabeth looked around the table, sighed, and finally said, “If I must.”
“We should appreciate it,” Bingley encouraged.
She threw down another good hand and collected another pot, then continued.
“I could walk upstairs right now, awaken my sister from her sickbed, and say, `Jane, we will have a dozen people for dinner tomorrow. What do we do.’ Off the top of her head, she would know what we have in the pantry, what we can get from the home farm, the shops, and neighbouring estates. Naturally, she would consider the season, our budget, and the status of the entire house. Within the hour, she would have orders for all that needs to be done. The second hour, she would have learnt about the new guests, worked out a seating arrangement, and found out if guest rooms needed to be aired, which guests should be close or separated, and so forth. She would do this without a second thought.”
She stopped to see if anyone wanted to contradict her, but then since nobody had anything to say, she goaded Mr Hurst into taking his turn. She had been distracting the table with her talk while simultaneously goading the continuation of play all along.
“When they arrived, she would arrange the table such that everyone was as comfortable as they could be. She would actively encourage conversation during the meal, so everyone gets a chance to speak. It is harder than it sounds, as every table has a few people who never say a word without being forced, and a few others who never shut up about their own narrow concerns.”
Darcy thought she showed remarkable restraint by not looking at himself and Miss Bingley with that statement.
“That is just one skill of dozens, but it is an example of why I find your list of accomplishments suspect. I could also list such things as how to hire, fire, and discipline servants. How and when to visit tenants and ensure their wellbeing. What to do when a tenant’s baby is born, someone dies, sickness strikes, and all the other difficulties of life. Then, of course there are remedies, how to treat the sick, cleaning schedules, and so forth… not to mention the hundreds of topics related to child rearing.”
She paused momentarily to examine her cards and make her play before continuing.
“Naturally, there are also the basics for the mistress of any house—city or country, gentry or trade. Their first responsibility is ensuring that all guests are safe and comfortable, that nobody speaks disparagingly about anyone else, nobody feels unwelcome… everyone is addressed correctly… you know, the fundamentals! ”
That time she did stare hard at Miss Bingley, and it became obvious she was not only aware of the less than subtle hints the woman made in her presence, but probably what was said behind her back. Darcy knew many of the servants were local, and reporting what was said to the other locals in the house would not be at all unusual.
Caroline was turning beet red, and may well have said something untoward, but Hurst broke in. “Your turn, Caroline. Perhaps you can play while you think on your response.”
That lady turned a gimlet eye on her brother-in-law but at least played her hand, though not all that carefully.
Darcy decided to get into the conversation to see if Miss Elizabeth would respond directly. “I applaud your reasoning, Miss Elizabeth, and have only to be chagrined by mine. It is a well thought out argument that I will give some considerable thought to.”
Having thrown the gauntlet to the point where she could not quite continue ignoring him, he made his play with slightly less care than was probably wise.
Miss Elizabeth looked directly at him, for the first time. She let the moment stretch out, then delayed a response by laying down her cards and collecting the pile of coins.
“Based on my definition, I know perhaps thirty to fifty truly accomplished women,” she replied nonchalantly, then turned back to the table and stood up.
“I thank you for the enlightening evening, but I must return to my sister,” she replied, and picked up at least twenty guineas, leaving most at the table staring in a combination of amazement at her good luck at cards, and consternation at their own meagre remaining piles.
She curtseyed and walked out the door, leaving the men thoroughly nonplussed, at least one of the women seething while waiting to vent her spleen, and everyone far shorter of funds than they had been an hour earlier. By Darcy’s estimation, the lady had probably made six months’ allowance in a half-hour.
“Elizabeth Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, “is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.”
Darcy could not even work out what the woman meant. Did she think Miss Elizabeth’s list was somehow an excuse for a lady not working on Miss Bingley’s list? Did she think Miss Elizabeth valuing the last fifty years more than the first three somehow constituted undervaluing ladies? Did she even comprehend that Miss Elizabeth was showing how little respect she had for Miss Bingley’s lauded accomplishments. He could not make any sense of it. He suspected that Miss Elizabeth thought her response a good chance to try to highlight her own superiority.
Darcy was having none of it.
“Undoubtedly,” replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed, “there is a meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable.”
Naturally, he did not say that men’s behaviour was, on average, far more despicable, especially in the case of men like Wickham.
Bingley laughed heartily. He was rather impressed with how Miss Elizabeth had fleeced the lot of them with a few well-chosen words and clever card play. He knew they could afford the loss of money far easier than some could live with the shame of having been so easily bested, verbally, monetarily, and in the argument about accomplishments.
The main thing Bingley got out of the discussion was that Darcy thought Miss Elizabeth’s description of an accomplished woman had merit, and Miss Elizabeth used her own sister as her example of such an accomplished woman.
Looking around, he saw that Caroline would never even understand what had happened, and Darcy would likely deny it—but it certainly made his position better. It would be hard for Caroline or Darcy to object to Miss Bennet, should he decide to proceed.
Speaking of Caroline, she looked like she was about to start another diatribe, but she was interrupted by the opening of the door.
Miss Elizabeth poked her head in, and said, “Oh, I almost forgot! If you prefer Miss Bingley’s definition , I know around five and twenty truly accomplished women. Perhaps fifteen by Mr Darcy’s standard,” then she gave a wave and was gone.
Her departure was met with a booming laugh from Hurst, along with some mumbling about cheek of the devil. Bingley and Darcy joined in, and even Mrs Hurst tittered a bit, while Miss Bingley continued fuming.