Pride Prejudice and Prodigy

A Difference of Opinion

Chapter 4 ~ A Difference of Opinion

Much to Elizabeth's surprise, Mr Bennet very quickly warmed to James Darlington, who made no attempt to disguise his lack of interest in sport; and politely, but firmly, refused Mr Bennet's offer to come and shoot with him at any time. Mr Bennet seemed not the least bit offended at this refusal, nor indeed, at any of the young man's unorthodox views and opinions. On the contrary, he found them fascinating, and clearly admired his visitor's well-informed mind.

Mrs Bennet, having dismissed Lady Darlington's son as a suitable marriage prospect, on account of his regrettable lack of fortune, nevertheless found fault in his lack of gallantry towards her daughters. While she would doubtless have felt great anxiety had such a noble and handsome young man made efforts to charm them; that he should show such little interest in them was, to her mind, insulting. He seemed to care for nothing except talking nonsense with Mr Bennet on subjects that no one could possibly understand, or find the least interest in.

But in this, Mrs Bennet was mistaken; Elizabeth was listening attentively to the gentlemen. Although she lacked sufficient information to completely follow their discussions on some subjects, on others she was almost as well-informed as her father, having read many of the books in his library. “I am surprised to hear you reject the claims of phrenology, sir,” she said at one point, when he was lambasting the discipline. “I wonder how you are able to so confidently reject the science.”

“Because it is not a science,” replied he. “I have seen not the slightest shred of scientific evidence that character or personality traits can be deduced from the shape of the head.”

“Do you likewise dismiss the study of physiognomy, sir?” questioned Elizabeth.

“No, not entirely,” replied he, “although it is, perhaps, better described as an art than a science.”

Lady Darlington appeared well satisfied with her son's reception, particularly by Mr Bennet; and while she declined further invitations to dine at Longbourn, her son scrupled not in accepting such invitations, and seemed not the least bit concerned at his inability to return the Bennets' hospitality. Although in truth, Mr Bennet, who was the instigator of these frequent invitations, felt himself abundantly rewarded by the excellent information he obtained from his young and learned guest. Elizabeth too, found the young man's conversation fascinating; although in her case, there were other feelings also, which gave rise to confusion and a consequent unease. While she felt certain that neither her parents nor her sisters had the least idea concerning such feelings, as to the young man who was their object, she was by no means certain.

***

One day, while walking alone in the garden, Elizabeth encountered Mr Darlington, who was just at that moment arriving to dine at Longbourn. Taking advantage of the privacy afforded by the situation, Elizabeth asked him if he considered himself a proficient in the art of physiognomy.

“Indeed I do – but fear not, your secrets are safe with me, Miss Bennet,” he replied with a mischievous smile.

Elizabeth felt herself blush, and to disguise her discomfort, she retorted sharply. “Of course, it is one thing to believe that one knows what another is thinking, and quite another to actually know it. Would you not agree, sir?”

“Quite so, Miss Bennet, but luckily I am in possession of scientific confirmation of my abilities at penetrating the thoughts of others – particularly those who would most wish to hide them.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, archly.

“Your expression, madam, I believe demands that I lay such evidence before you.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Indeed it does, sir, but I was not attempting to conceal my wishes – on the contrary, I was very much hoping to convey my desire that you produce the proof of which you speak.”

“Very well then, although it obliges me to reveal certain activities which I fear may invite your disapprobation. I have lately had recourse to resort to engaging in games of chance, which are a favourite pastime with many of the officers of the militia presently quartered in Meryton.”

“You are a gambler, sir? I am shocked to hear it! How can you, in all good conscience, indulge in so expensive an amusement, when you are dependent upon your poor sister Julia, who is forced to degrade herself for you comfort?” demanded Elizabeth, unable to conceal her severe displeasure.

“On the contrary, I am no gambler, and have never been interested in that particular diversion. However, finding myself in want of immediate funds – and more particularly to avoid dependence upon my sister – I have lately engaged in a game of cards, upon occasion, with the officers.”

“But sir, games of chance are just that – chance! You might lose money, just as easily as win it.”

“Indeed so, Miss Bennet; and once or twice I have lost. But generally, I win most handsomely; quite enough in fact, to meet the immediate needs of both my mother and myself.”

“But this is disgraceful, sir! For a gentleman of wealth to gamble is not generally thought of as improper – unless of course it becomes obsessive, in which case it must be considered a vice. But to gamble to earn one's livelihood is low and mean, indeed. You had done better to work at your art, sir!” she angrily disparaged him.

“Oh, we are back onto that subject; are we, Miss Bennet? My gambling is low and mean – but only because I am poor! But I prefer not to think of it as gambling.”

“And what then would you call it, sir?” she demanded frostily

“I like to think of it as the scientific application of mathematics – and physiognomy.”

Elizabeth gave a derisive laugh. “I am aware that we live in an age where science flourishes, and seems to encompass ever-expanding areas of knowledge; but I think you grossly overstate the case, sir, to include gambling and games of chance in the compass of science. Where exactly, pray tell, is the science in a game of cards?”

“My success at cards is based purely upon science, madam, conjoined with the gift of an exceptional memory. I am able to recall every card that has been played in a game, and hence deduce those remaining. By applying the principles of mathematical probability, I am thus able to reckon the precise likelihood of any particular outcome at a given moment. Moreover, my extensive study of physiognomy, combined with the ability to remember each player's previous expressions and the hand they then held, assists me in judging, from their present expressions and behaviour, the cards in their hands. Consequently, I win far more often than I lose.”

“How shameful; why that is almost like cheating! You are not a respectable young man, sir!”

James Darlington laughed, apparently not the least bit concerned at the accusation. “I shall leave it to you to determine degrees of respectability, Miss Bennet, but I strongly deny the charge of cheating. All who engage in games of chance apply their memory, their ability to discern the hidden intentions of others, and what they surmise to be the likelihood of various outcomes. I simply do it in a more rigorous and scientific manner than most. I am careful not to win too much from those who can ill afford it, although sometimes one comes across an inveterate gambler who insists upon betting beyond his means. There is one officer in particular who is greatly in my debt, and yet insists upon continuing to gamble with me. He becomes angered if I attempt to refuse him. George Wickham is the gentleman's name.”

“George Wickham?” asked Elizabeth in surprise.

“Yes, are you acquainted with the gentleman?”

“Indeed I am; and I am very surprised to hear you call him a gambler – in fact I can hardly believe it to be true. I have had the pleasure of being a good deal in that gentleman's company since he joined the militia; and know him to be an honest, upright, and principled gentleman.”

James Darlington laughed, shaking his head disbelievingly. “Then there must be two gentlemen of that name in the militia. The one with whom I have the misfortune to be acquainted is a liar and a scoundrel. Nevertheless, I must not be unfair and find him totally lacking. He is a creditable actor, I will grant you; and greatly gifted in the art of deception.”

“How dare you speak of him so and tarnish his good name, sir?” exclaimed Elizabeth heatedly, struggling to control her temper. “I do not believe a word you say about him! I have had ample opportunity of conversing with him and of observing his behaviour in a variety of situations; and have found it all to be entirely respectable and honourable. Furthermore, I can speak for all of my acquaintance who have had the pleasure of meeting that gentleman, in stating unequivocally, that they concur with my opinion.”

“No doubt they are mostly females – easy prey to his flattering ways and insincere gallantries; so it is perhaps not all that surprising. But I must confess: I believed you, Miss Bennet, to be a more acute judge of character than is common. I am exceedingly surprised to discover you so completely taken in and deceived by George Wickham.”

“It is you, sir, who are deceived! Your unjust and unchristian comments about that gentleman convince me that you are entirely lacking the least ability to fathom the character of others. All your boasts of skill in the art of physiognomy are contradicted by your abject failure to correctly understand Mr Wickham. But perhaps I am unfair to you, Mr Darlington. Perhaps your performance is not always quite this bad? Perhaps there is a reason for your errors in the present case?”

“Such as?” asked the gentleman, sounding more amused than annoyed.

“Jealousy!” replied Elizabeth. “You are clearly envious of Mr Wickham's considerable charm; his great powers of pleasing; and the unanimous popularity he enjoys; all qualities, which I am sorry to say, are entirely lacking in your own person. Please excuse my frankness, sir, but one cannot help but feel provoked at hearing such a fine gentleman maligned, especially one who has suffered such grievous misfortunes.”

“Grievous misfortunes? Oh… you are no doubt referring to the stories in circulation of the great iniquities visited upon poor George Wickham by that dastardly rogue, Darcy?”

“Indeed I am, sir! And I beg you not to speak of it in so sarcastic a vein. I do not know what you have heard, but it has been my sad office to hear Mr Wickham confide in great detail, concerning the terrible misfortunes which have been inflicted upon him by Mr Darcy; and I cannot understand how you can speak of it in so flippant and unfeeling a way – you of all people, Mr Darlington, who have similarly suffered from the evil deeds of another.”

“Darcy, evil?” laughed James Darlington, “I do not believe it for a moment!”

“Are you acquainted with that gentleman?”

“Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley? Certainly. Our families moved in the same circles in London each year, and he was yet at Cambridge when I commenced my studies there.”

“Were you friends with him at Cambridge?” asked Elizabeth, her anger temporarily forgotten. Despite her doubts about James Darlington's abilities at judging character, she was most eager to hear his opinion of Mr Darcy.

“No, not friends exactly; I always found him a bit too stately and pompous for my taste. And he, no doubt, found me lacking in those qualities of gentlemanly breeding, which he, himself, strives so hard to evince. However, he is a sensible, cultured, intelligent, well-read fellow – in the classics at least. I always found him a ready foil when I was in need of someone with whom to argue my more unorthodox views.”

“Whereas I found him arrogant, conceited, proud, and despising of those he considers beneath him – which is, of course, almost everybody. He is the most disagreeable man I have ever met.”

“There may be some truth in what you say, Miss Bennet, although I fear you overstate your case. What I will say of Darcy is that he is as honourable, honest, and trustworthy a man as ever I have known – the very opposite of George Wickham. Now there, madam, is your villain!”

“Mr Darlington, you have things entirely around the wrong way! You call black white and white black. You have lost all credit in my estimation, sir. Not only do I find you totally wanting as a judge of character; but sadly, I must question your mental faculties, your clarity of mind, and most particularly your provoking prejudice.”

James Darlington laughed, seemingly amused at Elizabeth's tirade. “Whereas I, Miss Bennet, put your errors down to a blind partiality for George Wickham. Having been taken in by that duplicitous gentleman and his deceitful wiles, you have been persuaded by his plausible lies and fine acting, that Darcy is some kind of villain. Please allow me to give you one piece of advice, Miss Bennet, which will greatly assist your future endeavours in judging character: never allow your personal preferences and prejudices to affect your judgement. And if you become aware of a strong affection – or equally, an aversion – towards some person, always be very careful to allow for it when forming a judgement concerning them.”

“How dare you, sir!” said Elizabeth, blushing furiously. “How dare you take the liberty of speaking of my affections? These are not the words of a gentleman!”

James Darlington struggled to contain his laughter. “You seem to be an expert on the subject of gentlemanly behaviour, Miss Bennet; and sadly, I must resign myself to the fact that I fall short in your estimation.”

That the gentleman was clearly amused, and felt not the least bit chastised, further infuriated Elizabeth, who made a very slight curtsey, before turning her back on the exasperating James Darlington, and walking briskly towards the house. Fortunately for Elizabeth, this was the last she would see of that provoking gentleman for some time. In a few days, she would be joining Sir William Lucas and Maria in visiting her newly-married friend, Charlotte, in Kent.