The promised walk did not take place, for the snow, which had been threatening, fell the following day, not thickly, but with enough of fog and dampness in the atmosphere to make the fireside seem by far the most agreeable place. The gentlemen shot in the first part of the morning, but returned home soon after one, ready for any entertainment that they might be expected to provide or be provided with; and Tom Bertram's inclinations, as usual, were in favour of the former. Not being a card-player, or enthusiast for music, and having found Mr. Bingley to be at billiards an adversary unworthy of his skill, he was obliged to seek some other method of spending a winter's afternoon, and without hesitation he broached to the assembled party his idea that they should act some charades.
Mrs. Bingley looked doubtful, and William Price gave his cousin no support; but the notion was warmly taken up by Bingley, his sister and sister-in-law, and Mr. Bertram set himself to persuade Mrs. Bingley that, next to a real play, charades were the most delightful things imaginable, and that they had a party collected about them remarkably well qualified to undertake any and every kind of character.
His hostess proved not difficult to persuade when she perceived what pleasurable anticipations were aroused by the suggestion; and only needed to be assured by her husband that it was a capital notion, and the young people would thoroughly enjoy it, to promise help of whatever kind was needed. William Price was ready to enter into it, when it became evident that it was the general wish; and even Georgiana began to be interested, and concealed her nervousness at the idea of taking part.
"You need not be frightened, Georgiana," said Miss Bingley; "all you will be required to do is to stand perfectly still and assume a particular expression. Louisa and I have often taken part in them; there is no acting, it is all the pose."
"Excuse me, Miss Bingley," interposed Mr. Bertram, "the kind of charades I propose we should do involves a certain amount of movement—acting, in short; and others require impromptu speeches. I recollect once, at the house of my friend—"
"I am sure you are mistaken, Mr. Bertram; the correct charade is not acting at all; it is simply a series of pictures, or tableaux, to represent the various syllables."
The discussion threatened to become keen, especially when the two younger girls joined in protesting that they could not possibly recite any impromptu speeches; but Bingley finally settled the point by agreeing with Mr. Bertram's vehement assertion that it would be much more amusing if they acted their parts, and that he could show them how to do it in such a way that no speaking would be necessary, though Miss Bingley doubted if all the company would be equal to such a demand upon their capabilities.
The next point was to choose the words, a matter of prodigious importance, for which many books were brought out and consulted, and the merits and possibilities of each word exhaustively debated. It was not until they renewed the consideration of the subject at the dinner-table that they made the discovery that if all of them were to appear in different scenes of the same charade, there would be no one left to guess the meaning.
"This becomes really serious," said Bingley. "If it was a play, we could act to ourselves, and the chairs and tables, and be perfectly happy; but the very existence of a charade is threatened if no one is ignorant of it. And from what I hear of intended costumes, it will take the rest of the evening for our preparations, so that we shall be ready to begin the performance just as our ladies have to leave us to-morrow."
"But who is leaving to-morrow? Not Miss Bennet and Miss Darcy?" exclaimed Tom Bertram in real alarm. "This cannot be allowed. Pray, Mr. Bingley, use your authority. I am sure they could remain another day."