Pride and Prejudice and Kitties Read online

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley. “I am all astonishment. I’ve heard she’s a good mouser, too, so that settles the matter. Pray, when am I to wish you joy?”

  “A female’s imagination is very rapid,” remarked Mr. Darcy drily. “It jumps from admiration to mice, and from mice to matrimony, in a moment.”

  Convinced by his manner that all was safe where Elizabeth was concerned, Miss Bingley spent the rest of the evening trilling to Mr. Darcy and preening herself by the fire.

  The insipidity, and yet the yowls—the nothingness, and yet the self-importance—of all these country cats!

  “Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance [said Charlotte to Elizabeth] . If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar before-hand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always contrive to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.”

  “You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself.”

  LONGBOURN, MR. BENNET’S territory, produced 2,000 juicy mice a year. The entire estate was end-tailed to a male hair, unfortunately for the Bennet sisters, for Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had produced only female litters.

  The two youngest kitties, Catherine and Lydia, had craniums even smaller and more vacant than those of other cats. They rollicked and romped here and there without a rational idea in their heads. Indeed, these empty-headed kits were filled with rapture upon learning that an army of toms were to camp in the neighborhood for the entire winter! What flouncing and pouncing they anticipated, what bells and balls! Mr. Bingley’s large fortune paled beside the vision of a red-coated, red-blooded tom.

  Kitty and Lydia romped here and there without a rational idea in their heads.

  Their father just shook his head.

  “From all I can collect by your manner of romping,” he observed, “you must be two of the silliest cats in the country.”

  Later that day, a footcat came in with a note for Miss Jane Bennet. It was an invitation from the two Bingley sisters to dine at Netherfield, though the tomcat of the house would be out.

  At that moment, something quite remarkable occurred. A thought popped into Mrs. Bennet’s tiny brain—that Jane go on horseback to Netherfield so that if by lucky chance it rained, she would have to stay overnight.

  This plan was quickly implemented, with the result that Jane ended up thoroughly drenched, with her beautiful fur all flattened. The Bingley sisters remarked snidely that she looked like a drowned rat. She was obliged to remain at Netherfield, and the doctor forced a nasty pill down her throat—without even a juicy pill pocket to make it go down easily!

  The next morning, Elizabeth trotted through the wet fields to visit her sister, getting her white paws very muddy in the process.

  Poor Jane was so ill that Elizabeth was invited to stay at Netherfield to nurse her. A servant was promptly sent out on a chase across four fields (known as a chase and four) to fetch Elizabeth’s belongings and return to Netherfield.

  [Elizabeth] was shewn 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.

  AT HALF-PAST six, Elizabeth was summoned to dinner: an array of freshly opened cans of succulent tuna and chicken livers in gravy.

  The Bingley sisters were tolerably agreeable at dinner. But Mr. Hurst was a lazy cat who lived only to eat, drink, and conk out; who, when he found Elizabeth to prefer dry food to a fresh-killed rodent, had nothing to say to her.

  When dinner was over, Miss Bingley began abusing Elizabeth as soon as she was out of the room. Her purr was not pleasing; she had no style, no taste, no papers. Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added, “She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent stalker. Did you see her with that bird in her mouth? She really looked almost wild.”

  “To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her paws in mud. What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show a most country-cat indifference to decorum.”

  When Elizabeth came down in the evening, she found Miss Bingley purring vigorously on the subject of Mr. Darcy’s sister, Georgiana.

  “How I long to see Georgiana again! Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for a kitten! She pounces exquisitely on the pianoforte.”

  “It is amazing to me,” observed Bingley, “how young female cats can have the patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”

  She really looked almost wild.

  “All cats accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?”

  “Yes, all of them, I think. They all walk across fresh paint, making delightful paw marks, stretch out full-length on a table, obstructing their owners’ plans, and claw net purses to pieces.”

  “Oh! Certainly,” cried Caroline, “a cat must have a thorough knowledge of purring, yowling, and leaping . . . and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her hair and manner of stalking.”

  “And to all this,” added Mr. Darcy, “she must yet add extensive napping.”

  “I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished cats,” said Elizabeth. “I rather wonder now at your knowing any!”

  Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no taste, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added,

  She must possess a certain something in her hair and manner of stalking.

  “She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild.”

  “She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!”

  “Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it, not doing its office.”

  “Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,” said Bingley; “but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well, when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.”

  “You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley; “and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition.”

  “Certainly not.”

  “To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! what could she mean by it? It seems to me to shew an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country town indifference to decorum.”

  “It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said Bingley.

  “I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, “that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.”

  “Not at all,” he replied; “they were brightened by the exercise.”

  To all this, she must yet add extensive napping.

  POOR JANE CONTINUED to feel very low. She hid in the back of the closet and was not even up to batting around a crumpled piece of paper t
hat Elizabeth discovered under the fender. Consequently, Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest kittens descended upon Netherfield to visit Jane. It was decided that Jane would stay on until her condition improved and the apothecary ordered some succulent chicken pill pockets, for Jane preferred these to the nasty salmon-flavored ones that Miss Bingley had procured from the cook.

  “I do not know a place that is equal to Netherfield,” remarked Mrs. Bennet, as she entered the breakfast parlor. “You will not think of quitting it in a hurry, I hope, Mr. Bingley, though you do have but a short leash.”

  Meanwhile, Lizzy spotted a mouse and pounced on it.

  “Lizzy!” cried her mother. “Remember where you are, and do not run in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home!”

  The cats then compared the merits of country life to living in town.

  “The city,” observed Mr. Darcy, “has fat, tasty rats as well as mice.”

  “I assure you,” retorted Mrs. Bennet, “there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town.”

  Mr. Darcy merely gazed at her and commenced licking his paw, and Mrs. Bennet fancied she had scored a triumph.

  Lizzy spotted a mouse and pounced on it.

  They then discussed the efficacy of cheese versus grain in trapping mice.

  “I have been used to consider cheese the very food of entrapment,” said Mr. Darcy.

  “A fine, stout Stilton may be,” said Elizabeth. “But a mild low-fat cheddar may chase a mouse entirely away.”

  Before they left, Lydia, in high animal spirits, reminded Mr. Bingley of his promise to give a dance with plenty of balls. He replied that he would, just as soon as Jane’s fur fluffed up again, and Lydia could name the day.

  “The country,” said Darcy, “can in general supply but a few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society.”

  “But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever.”

  “Yes, indeed,” cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning a country neighbourhood. “I assure you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town.”

  Every body was surprised; and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete victory over him, continued her triumph.

  . . .

  “Aye—that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman,” looking at Darcy, “seemed to think the country was nothing at all.”

  “Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken,” said Elizabeth, blushing for her mother. “You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there was not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in the town, which you must acknowledge to be true.”

  “Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four and twenty families.”

  WHEN ELIZABETH CAME downstairs after dinner, she began to chew on some embroidery, being careful not to get a needle stuck in the roof of her mouth, as had happened to a cat of her acquaintance.

  While this was going on, Miss Bingley swatted Mr. Darcy with her paw, harassing him as he tried to compose a letter to his sister. Mr. Bingley observed that Mr. Darcy did not write with ease; he studied too much for words of four syllables. (Darcy was fond of a dictionary, but he sprawled on it even more often than he looked into it.) Mr. Bingley on the other hand always walked carelessly across his letters while the ink was still wet, blotting them horribly.

  “Everything I do is done quickly,” trilled Mr. Bingley, attacking a dormouse scurrying across the floor.

  Darcy and Bingley proceeded to spar over the merits of pouncing quickly versus reflecting first. Bingley observed that Darcy always got the upper paw in these disputes.

  “I assure you, that if Darcy were not such a magnificently tall tom, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare,” said Mr. Bingley, “I do not know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, when he has nothing to bat about.”

  I do not know a more awful object than Darcy at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, when he has nothing to bat about.

  Miss Bingley and her sister then caterwauled a duet and Elizabeth could not help noticing how often Mr. Darcy’s eyes were fixed on her. When Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scottish-fold air, Darcy drew near her.

  “Are you not tempted by the lively music, Miss Bennet, to join me in unraveling a fishing reel?”

  Elizabeth declined, and Mr. Darcy really believed that were it not for the inferiority of her cat connections in London, he should be in some danger.

  “I hope,”said [Miss Bingley], as [she and Mr. Darcy] were walking together in the shrubbery the next day, “you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue; and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after officers—And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence, which your lady possesses.”

  “Have you anything else to propose for my domestic felicity?”

  “Oh! yes—Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Philips be placed in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great uncle the judge. They are in the same profession, you know; only in different lines. As for your Elizabeth’s picture, you must not have it taken, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?”

  “It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their colour and shape, and the eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might be copied.”

  Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Philips be placed in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great uncle the judge.

  JANE WAS NOW well enough to go down to the pawing room with Elizabeth and the Bingley sisters. Mr. Bingley cavorted with joy at seeing Jane all fluffed up again!

  No one wanted to chase string or bat cards about, so Mr. Hurst stretched out on one of the sofas and took a catnap. Mr. Darcy was engaged in a book, and Miss Bingley took the second volume of his and sprawled across it with a great yawn.

  “How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare, after all there is no enjoyment like stretching oneself over a book so our humans have no chance of reading it! How much sooner one tires of anything else but this! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.

  “By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a great ball at Netherfield? Although these lowly country cats would be most amused with a ball, I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure.”

  “If you mean Darcy,” cried her brother, “he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins—but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made rat-atouille enough, I shall send round my cards.”

  “A ball would be infinitely more rational,” replied Miss Bingley, “if it was not round or did not roll.”

  “Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be near so much like a ball.”

  Miss Bingley made no answer; and soon afterwards got up and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well— but Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious.

  Her figure was elegant and she walked well.

  In the desperation of her feelings she resolved on one effort more; and, turning to Elizabeth, said,

  “Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.”

  Elizabeth was sur
prised, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingley succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy looked up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. He was directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing, that he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which motives his joining them would interfere. “What could he mean? she was dying to know what could be his meaning”—and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all understand him?

  “Not at all,” was her answer; “but depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him, will be to ask nothing about it.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, Elizabeth and Jane determined to leave Netherfield, lest they overstay their welcome.

  This communication elicited fresh invitations to prolong their stay. Mr. Bingley chirped encouragingly, while Miss Bingley chimed in with a half-hearted meow. Till the morrow, then, their going was deferred. Miss Bingley was sorry that she had acceded to the delay, for her jealousy and dislike of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other.

  Mr. Bennet, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really glad to see Jane and Elizabeth when they arrived home the next day; he had felt their importance in the family circle. The evening cavorting, while they were away at Netherfield, had lost much of its animation and almost all its cat sense with their absence.

  [Mr. Bingley] heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be safe for her—that she was not enough recovered; but Jane was firm where she felt herself to be right.