Pride & Prejudice, ch. 10: Friendly Persuasion

For an accomplished and apparently attractive eligible young woman, Caroline doesn’t seem to be gaining any headway with Darcy. I mean, he definitely knows she exists, so there’s one check in the plus column. But seriously, let’s go with commentator Dorothy’s theory that Darcy, had had remained Elizabeth-less, would have eventually married Caroline Bingley. There’s already a couple pieces of evidence to back this up: he only danced with the Bingley sisters at the assembly (showing that he’s comfortable with Caroline to some degree) and has been shown to join in their teasing—and even teased Caroline himself. There is a basis for a relationship there. It just happens to be a really shallow one.*

A good question, then, would be to ask at what point does Darcy realize that Lizzy Bennet’s casual refusal to agree with him on every point is attractive? Did it happen when she insisted she did not want to dance (with him)? Did it happen a couple chapters ago when she was all pics or it didn’t happen regarding Darcy’s model of an accomplished woman? Whenever the moment is, it has definitely taken place by the end of this chapter. 

There’s a line in this chapter that I tend to take for granted—the part where Lizzy observes that the off-kilter back-and-forth between Caroline and Darcy is “exactly in unison with her opinion of each [person].” Now, I wonder if she is the one taking something for granted: namely, that the dynamic she’s witnessing has always been that way. It’s true that Caroline usually does more of the talking when conversing with Darcy. But our extremely Miss Bingley is no dummy; she wouldn’t bug Darcy like she does here if all he ever gave her were short, bordering-on-ill-mannered replies. So what’s turned her into such a sycophant?

Elizabeth.

Caroline suspects by now that Darcy, who has mentioned his appreciation of Lizzy’s beauty twice with no prompting, is starting to stray. Unfortunately, Caroline’s version of upping her game makes her appear less appealing—especially when Lizzy’s refusal to placate or agree with Darcy is part of her appeal. But Lizzy, bless her, doesn’t see any of this.

This is an especially interesting interpretation to use as a backdrop for the conversation between Lizzy, Darcy, and Bingley about whether “[t]o yield readily … to the persuasion of a friend.” Lizzy argues that one friend asking another for a favor (specifically, to stay for a while longer) and that second friend acquiescing “readily” speaks to “the influence of friendship and affection” between the two. (Aw.) Darcy counters that the second friend should expect the first to offer a sound and logical reason as to why he’s asking for the favor. (Not so aw.) Lizzy thinks being immediately agreeable is a sweet gesture while Darcy finds it insulting. No wonder he’s starting to find Caroline rather boring, huh?

Bingley cuts the conversation short because he’s picking up on a little bit of hostility between the two. Notice that Elizabeth “check[s] her laughter” when reacting to Bingley’s jab at Darcy—she might be more than willing to take a contradictory position to Darcy, but that doesn’t mean she won’t show him any respect. But did you catch Bingley and Darcy just then? Darcy offers to drop the subject and Bingley provides an explanation as to why he’d like Darcy to do so. Bingley adheres to the same friendship standards that Darcy operates on, whether he’s aware of it or not, which is why Darcy respects Bingley even when Bingley takes a pot-shot at him. And that is deserving of an aw …

Later, when they’re all partying (in a refined Regency England kind of way, I mean), Darcy asks Lizzy if she feels like dancing. Now, Lizzy thinks she’s got him all figured out, accusing him—to his face—of hoping to mock her “taste” in music. She’s got a weird sense of integrity: she doesn’t laugh at Darcy when his friend lobs an insult at him, but she fully expects to piss him off with a reply that reads as more charming than nasty (that’s my take, anyway). The narrator points out that Lizzy’s demeanor “[makes] it difficult for her to affront anybody,” which always makes me chuckle—poor Liz! What a funny blind spot to have, that you can’t tell when you’re not as mean as you intend to be. Darcy finds her stated resistance to placating him “bewitch[ing],” incidentally marking the moment in the book when my eyes turned into hearts when I first read it.

It’s telling of both Caroline and Darcy that Caroline, now officially green with jealousy, mocks Lizzy’s low-ranking relations in an attempt to make herself look better by comparison. It means she knows Darcy well enough to know that he’s turned off by Lizzy’s extended family. Caroline’s strategy, as surface-level as it appears, seems to work … except even now he has to bring up Elizabeth’s eyes. (And let’s all take a moment to appreciate the essential Darcy-ness of his assessment of whether those eyes “might be copied” in a painting.) What Caroline cannot imagine is that Lizzy’s independence can be more appealing to Darcy than her mine, mine, mine attitude. When the Bingley sisters make it impossible for Lizzy to join them and Darcy on a walk, Darcy is struck by their “rudeness.” He offers to find a wider path. No, thanks, says Lizzy. She doesn’t need to be placated. Darcy has his fan club, and Lizzy has a sister who’s getting better. What more could she want?

Coming soon: Jane and Bingley are still going strong, Caroline thinks fast, and Elizabeth can’t help but try to get under Darcy’s skin.

*Mr. Knightley, while correct in his assertion that “men of sense do not want silly wives,” fails to note that sometimes those men end up with those wives anyway. Cf. Mr. Bennet.