‘Oh! I am not at all afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling colds.’
Last time, we saw Mr Darcy (no first name given) develop some non-detestable feelings towards Lizzy at yet another party, but her distaste for him is made clear when she refuses a dance he offered at Sir Lucas’ (first name given, strangely) behest.
Today, Austen chooses to open the chapter highlighting how simply being a woman at the time of the book locks the girls out of getting a penny of their father’s inheritance when the time comes, with it all going to some distant male relative. This is one of the few times so far that Austen has used the third-person narration to be so overt in discussing her themes. Personally, I’m all for it.
For whatever reason, we completely pivot from the politics and the Darcy-Lizzy-Bingley-Jane plot-line to focus on the younger Bennet sisters - Catherine and Lydia - as they make their way to their mother’s sister for what might be the third time that week. With so little to do with themselves, this mundane experience has been an education for the duo as Mr Phillips (their uncle) often paid visits to soldiers. The sight of these men appears to have flipped a switch in the two of them, as they are described as effusing with words on the soldiers. Whether this is the product of a potent respect for the military or a crush on poor Captain Carter, I’m not too sure, but since everything in their lives is about the pursuit of a husband, I’m inclined to say the latter.
In any case, this constant chatter of captains proves a little tiresome for Mr Bennet, and Mr Bennet’s chatter about his daughters’ chatter proves tiresome for Mrs Bennet. If you’re new to this series, let me reiterate my point on these two being ciphers for the unhappiness of married life for the upper-class couples Austen was familiar with at the time. First, they do not have names, not even Mrs Bennet, which is unusual considering almost every woman in the story has one. Second, whenever the two of them are sharing a room, page or paragraph, they argue. He seems to be amused by it all, but she is constantly at the peak of frustration for her husband’s far from inappropriate behaviour.
She flatters the two of them in the hopes of shutting him up and proceeds to dominate the conversation with talk of how good all the girls’ “silly” chatter would be if it led to them getting a rich colonel as a husband. This woman has one job and she is quite determined to always be doing it. Catherine and Lydia thus try to turn the chat back to fixating on the soldier’s personal lives, remarking on how some of them seem to almost be hiding from the girls in their host’s library.
Funny, that.
Before the conversation can be mangled by further topic management, a letter arrives at the house, taking us on an epistolary trip. Did I say we were pivoting away from the main plot today? I lied : the letter is an invitation for Jane from Bingley’s sister, who has taken quite a shine to her. The family argues on whether Jane will take a horse (nature’s bicycle) or a carriage, but since the horses are busy working on the farm I presume the Bennet’s use for paying their upkeep, she takes a lone horse for the journey. Mrs Bennet prays for rain to strand her child there so she and Mr Bingley can grow closer, closer, closer still…
Wouldn’t you know it? It rained.
Before the Bennet matriarch can cartwheel off the walls the next day, a servant arrives with a letter. This one is from Jane and gives the sad news that she got caught in the rain and will have to stay in bed at the manor for a few days, with the doctor coming to check on her soon.
As Mrs B frets about carriages and Mr B gamely points the finger at her, Lizzy, our protagonist, enters the fray and decides to do an altogether protagonist-y thing - going to Netherfield on foot, with the two youngest sisters accompanying her for the first leg. There’s probably a lesson here about ounces of prevention and pounds of cure, but it’s not like the farm needed those four around anyway.
The three reach Merryton and two part to meet the wives of their favourite officers, which is weird under my preferred reading of their thoughts on Captain Carter, but does give some weight to them just being obsessed with the military in a more platonic way. Lizzy goes on to reach Netherfield “weary ancles*, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise.”
Now, this journey would be a bit much for Jane to make in her condition, but I do wonder how the servant delivered the letter, and why he couldn’t wait for Lizzy if he took a carriage, which is probable considering his clothes were not given such detail.
In the house, Lizzy is met with envious spite from Bingley’s sisters for her troubles, silent judgement from Mr Darcying Darcy himself (does he have a life or house of his own?), and dull ignorance from a Mr Hurst, who’s still having breakfast. After a little effort, she convinces the household to let her check on Jane, who is in a “feverish” state, afflicted with “a violent cold” according to the doctor. What a lot of melodrama for a sniff! Of course, I’m forgetting that medicine at the time is not what it is today, but even Mrs Bennet didn’t assume the worst when she heard!
Many hours later, Lizzy and Jane engage in a little game of etiquette. The aim is to convince the other person that you do want what you most sincerely do not (going back home, in Lizzy’s case), while they make a show of supporting her choice while nudging you to what you really want. Jane wins, and Lizzy stays the night at the manor, with a servant sent back home to get her things, which makes me question why they don’t just shove Jane in a carriage and send her back home if they’re so close to each other. She can’t exactly charm Mr Bingley while coughing up phlegm, and she isn’t in a fragile state - it’s a cold!
Thoughts
- I remember this chapter quite well from the last time I tried P&P
- So much drama over a cold! She could get home in an hour by foot!
- Mr Darcy is in the book even when he isn’t significant to the plot. He is truly omnipresent.
- Good contrast between him and Hurst, whoever that is.
- Will the girls’ obsession with soldiers will go anywhere?
* : I do not know whether ‘ancles’ is an archaic spelling of the word, or simply a spelling error in my edition, but just wanted to point out that it’s completely intentional for the eagle-eyed amongst you.
