Pride and Prejudice and Kitties, стр. 4
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