Into Hertfordshire Read Online Free

together is, I am forced to conclude, happenstance; merely one of those rare sports sent down by Heaven to plague us with a vision of perfection that none of us can ever hope to realise.” His own profitless Season and Georgiana’s broken heart were much in his thoughts as he spoke.
    “That is rather hard,” said Bingley in protest. “A bleak prospect for the rest of us, I must say, if that be the case.”
    “How many of your married acquaintances would you say were happy?” Darcy challenged him. “The Hursts? Your own parents? Any one in your entire acquaintance?”
    “The Hursts! I cannot think what Louisa was about when she accepted him. And my parents…. Well, my father was always so busy, you know, and Mater…” Bingley broke off with a rather embarrassed air.
    “Just so. It is the same with me: I cannot think of any one outside my parents whose nuptials did not signal a very decided decrease in their happiness. By simple observation we must conclude that this is the rule, not the exception.”
    Bingley shook his head. “However sound your logic might be, I refuse to accept your conclusion; it does happen. And as long as a marriage such as your parents’ can happen, why should it not happen to us? No, Darcy—as long as there is hope, I will hope.”
    Darcy slowly gave half a nod and said, “You are right, of course, Bingley. One can always hope—no matter how dismal the prospects seem.” His air was even less optimistic than his words.
    Bingley made an attempt to lift his spirits. “Speaking of hope, let us entertain some hopes for this Tuesday’s dance: who can say but what we will meet the companions of our future lives that very night?”
    “My dear Bingley, what can you be thinking of! What ladies of any consequence, save your own sisters, do you suppose might attend a country assembly in a three-by-four market-town?”
    “What does consequence have to do with it?”
    “You were speaking of hope, were you not? If you did not mean the hope of finding a suitable young woman of good standing, I quite mistook your meaning.”
    “Well…yes, of course. But gentlemen’s daughters are to be found in the country, I assure you.”
    “None likely to suit. Now really, Bingley, would your family countenance a girl without a fortune to do justice to your family’s position?”
    “If she were sweet enough, I am sure they would.”
    “Are you, really? I do not think I could say the same.”
    “Darcy! Would you truly form an attachment for purely mercenary reasons?”
    “I should not choose to do so; but if the women of Society have an obligation, so do we men: marry well and secure the line. Form an attachment? Perhaps not, but it does not follow that there can be no marriage where there is no attachment.” That Darcy’s words were meant in all sincerity might be argued, but last winter’s Season had indeed been bleak.
    Bingley was clearly shocked. “I cannot believe you really mean that, Darcy.”
    Darcy stared over his friend’s shoulder for a moment before drawing a sigh. “Well, perhaps I do not,” he admitted in a conciliatory manner. “I do not wish it so, but look around you, man! I have been at this game longer than you have, and, whilst I do not pretend to plough the ground quite so rapidly as you do, I have covered the territory—last winter was my ninth Season, after all. Yet whom have you ever met who you would seriously consider offering for?”
    “No one. But all the more reason to broaden the search. And I say, let us begin in Hertfordshire! I will have you come to the dance, Darcy!”
    Darcy grimaced. “I really have no stomach for it, Bingley. Let your sister find a swain from among your new neighbours, I pray you. No doubt there will be many young men simply panting to make her acquaintance.”
    “I am thinking of you, Darcy, not my sister. I cannot abide seeing you give way to such feelings. It is not you. I know it is not.” Having stepped thus far beyond the bounds of