|
A Trip to the
Peaks
Charles Bingley
sat in the study of Netherfield, holding a glass of whiskey,
staring into the evening fire. He had eaten nothing since his
return from Longbourn, and his only words to the staff was to
be left alone. He had much to think on - the words thrown at
him like daggers from Jane Bennet:
"I feel
that I must tell you that I doubt that you will be successful
in your suit."
"I require
more than easy manners and an open countenance in the companion
of my future life."
"I will
marry one man - not two."
"Damn it!"
he cried out loud. "This is Darcy's fault!" The thrown
glass shattered in the fireplace.
That was crystal
- that was certainly brilliant, wasn't it? Bingley shook his head at his own stupidity.
You damn fool; this is not Darcy's fault, anymore that that
glass is Darcy's fault. This is my fault - my damn cautiousness.
Perhaps Father was right: I will never live up to what he wanted.
His mind flowed
back to his demanding father. He pushed and prodded his children;
they would never live like tradesmen. No; they would take their
place in Society and Charles would be master of a great estate.
The best schools, the best clothes, the best connections.
But how do you
run an estate, Father?
That was not part of his upbringing.
Louisa and Caroline
succeeded in becoming the superficial people that were Mr. Bingley
Senior's idea of landed people. Charles never seemed to meet
his demanding expectations. Where his father was hard, Charles
was soft. Where his father was suspicious, Charles was trusting.
Where his father was sharp, Charles was generous.
Am I really such
a failure, Father?
The only way he
could earn his father's grudging respect was to be right. To
have the best grades. To make no mistakes. That was part of the
reason he had made such a friend out of Fitzwilliam Darcy in
school. Darcy was brilliant. He knew everything; and what he
didn't know, he knew where to find out. Until Jane, Darcy had
never steered him wrong.
He had felt such
amazement and resentment and finally elation at Darcy's confession
not two days ago. It was but a moment's work to heartily forgive
his friend before making arrangements to return to Netherfield.
Minimal staff attended to him now; it was all he could arrange
at short notice. He thought to open the rest of the house after
his interview with Jane, assuming Darcy approved.
"I do not
wish for my security to be dependant upon the will and opinions
of others."
Bingley brooded
as he stared into the dying fire. I have tried so hard not
to make a mistake; and now that turns out to be the biggest mistake
of my life. Jane is right; I have relied too much on others.
It is time I was my own man. Yes, that is what I must do. God!
How do I do that?
"Mr. Bingley,
you may call upon me if you wish - I have no objection to your
company."
Do I have a chance?
Can I prove myself to her? Do I have a choice? Does she care?
"Mr. Bingley,
I enjoy your company. However, I require more than easy manners
and an open countenance in the companion of my future life. That
person must be a reliable and useful man, one that I and my progeny
may rely upon. I do not wish for my security to be dependant
upon the will and opinions of others. I will marry one man -
not two."
"You…you
do not love me?"
"I said
nothing of love, Mr. Bingley… but…but one cannot live
on love!"
Bingley never felt
so wretched in his whole life. I have no choice - I must learn
how to live without Darcy. Because I cannot live without Jane.
~~~~}+{~~~~
Elizabeth was now
to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. On the very last day of
the regiment's remaining in Meryton, he dined with others of
the officers at Longbourn; and so little was Elizabeth disposed
to part from him in good humor, that on his making some enquiry
as to the manner in which her time had passed at Hunsford, she
mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliam's and Mr. Darcy's having both spent
three weeks at Rosings, and asked him if he were acquainted with
the former.
He looked surprised,
displeased, alarmed; but with a moment's recollection and a returning
smile, replied that he had formerly seen him often; and after
observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man, asked her how
she had liked him. Her answer was warmly in his favor. With an
air of indifference he soon afterwards added, "How long
did you say that he was at Rosings?''
"Nearly three
weeks.''
"And you saw
him frequently?''
"Yes, and my
sister too; almost every day.''
"His manners
are very different from his cousin's.''
"Yes, very
different. But I think Mr. Darcy improves on acquaintance.''
"Indeed!''
cried Wickham with a look which did not escape her. He added
in a gayer tone, "Is it in address that he improves? Has
he deigned to add ought of civility to his ordinary style? For
I dare not hope that he is improved in essentials.''
"Oh, no!''
said Elizabeth. "In essentials, I believe, he is very much
what he ever was. When I said that he improved on acquaintance,
I did not mean that either his mind or manners were in a state
of improvement; but that from knowing him better, his disposition
was better understood.''
Wickham's alarm
now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated look; for
a few minutes he was silent; till, shaking off his embarrassment,
he turned to her again, and said in the gentlest of accents,
"You, who so well know my feelings towards Mr. Darcy, will
readily comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is wise
enough to assume even the appearance of what is right. I imagine
this is merely adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose good
opinion and judgment he stands much in awe, and towards forwarding
the match with Miss de Bourgh."
Elizabeth could
not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a slight
inclination of the head. She saw that he wanted to engage her
on the old subject of his grievances, and she was in no humor
to indulge him. The rest of the evening passed with the appearance,
on his side, of usual cheerfulness, but with no farther attempt
to distinguish Elizabeth; and they parted at last with mutual
civility, and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again.
Yes, go away,
you villain. May I never see you again.
~~~~}+{~~~~
Lydia set out early
the next morning. The separation between her and her family was
rather more noisy than pathetic. Kitty was the only one who shed
tears; but she wept from vexation and envy. Mrs. Bennet was diffuse
in her good wishes for the felicity of her daughter, and impressive
in her injunctions that she would not miss the opportunity of
enjoying herself as much as possible; advice, which there was
every reason to believe would be attended to; and in the clamorous
happiness of Lydia herself in bidding farewell, the more gentle
adieus of her sisters were uttered without being heard.
Had Elizabeth's
opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could not have
formed a very pleasing picture of conjugal felicity or domestic
comfort. Her father, captivated by youth and beauty, and that
appearance of good humor which youth and beauty generally give,
had married a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind
had, very early in their marriage, put an end to all real affection
for her. Respect, esteem, and confidence had vanished for ever;
and all his views of domestic happiness were overthrown. Neither
Jane nor Elizabeth had been blind to the impropriety of their
father's behavior as a husband. They had always seen it with
pain; but respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate
treatment of themselves, they endeavored to forget what they
could not overlook, and to banish from their thoughts that continual
breach of conjugal obligation and decorum which, in exposing
his wife to the contempt of her own children, was so highly reprehensible.
But Elizabeth had never felt so strongly as now the disadvantages
which must attend the children of so unsuitable a marriage, nor
ever been so fully aware of the evils arising from so ill-judged
a direction of talents; talents which rightly used, might at
least have preserved the respectability of his daughters, even
if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife.
The time fixed for
the beginning of their Northern tour was now fast approaching;
Jane was to go with them. A fortnight only was wanting of it,
when a letter arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed
its commencement and curtailed its extent. Mr. Gardiner must
be in London again within a month; and as that left too short
a period for them to go so far, and see so much as they had proposed,
they were obliged to give up the Lakes, and substitute a more
contracted tour; and, according to the present plan, were to
go no farther northward than Derbyshire. Mrs. Gardiner it had
a peculiarly strong attraction to that county. The town where
she had formerly passed some years of her life, and where they
were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an object
of her curiosity, as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock,
Chatsworth, Dovedale, or the Peaks.
Jane was sanguine,
but Elizabeth was excessively disappointed; she had set her heart
on seeing the Lakes; and still thought there might have been
time enough. But it was her business to be satisfied - and certainly
her temper to be happy; and all was soon right again.
With the mention
of Derbyshire, there were many ideas connected. It was impossible
for Jane to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its
owner, both she mentioned to her sister. "But surely,"
responded Elizabeth, "it is a rather large county. I may
enter his county with impunity, and rob it of a few petrified
spars without his perceiving me, I am sure.'' Her private anxieties
she kept to herself.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner,
with their four children, at length appeared at Longbourn. The
children, two girls of six and eight years old and two younger
boys, were to be left under the particular care of their cousin
Kitty. While not the general favorite that Jane was, and without
her sister's steady sense and sweetness of temper, Kitty's exuberance
for the task exactly adapted her for attending to them in many
ways, such as playing with them and loving them.
Jane had a private
interview with Kitty: "My love, you are now responsible
for our cousins. It is a heavy burden, I know; but it is one
you must bear, for there is no one else. Our mother is not of
the temperament to diligently care for another's children; even
if they are her nieces and nephews."
Kitty blinked at
Jane's direct words. "Oh, Jane, I am frightened! It is such
a responsibility! I…I do not know if I am able to properly
care for four children under the age of nine!"
"Trust in your
heart, Kitty! You know what is right. Mrs. Hill will be here;
she will help." Jane smiled. "I know you can do this.
When in doubt, do as I would do."
Jane's words had
the desired effect. Kitty relaxed in the face of such trust in
her abilities. It was a first for her, for no one had said such
words to her before.
The Gardiners stayed
only one night at Longbourn, and set off the next morning with
Jane and Elizabeth in pursuit of novelty and amusement. One enjoyment
was certain - that of suitableness as companions; a suitableness
which comprehended health and temper to bear inconveniences -
cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure - and affection and intelligence,
which might supply it among themselves if there were disappointments
abroad.
~~~~}+{~~~~
"Mr. Bingley,"
intoned the butler, "Mr. Darcy to see you."
Bingley looked up
from his paperwork in surprise. "Show him in."
Darcy walked in,
showing only a hint of the nervousness he felt. He heart warmed
at Bingley's cry: "Darce! Come in, my dear fellow! What
brings you to Netherfield?"
"To see you
and offer an invitation, Charles. But first allow me to say that
I am impressed with the improvements to your fields. Your hard
work has born good fruit."
"Thankee, Darce.
Coming from you that is high praise indeed!" The two friends
fell into a discussion over crop rotation. Once that subject
had been thoroughly explored, and a glass of wine consumed, Bingley
asked, "Now, what is this about an invitation?"
"Georgiana
and I are returning north and wondered if you would like to accompany
us."
"To Pemberley?"
At Darcy's nod, Charles frowned. "I…I do not know,
Darce. I…I have much to do."
Darcy felt sick
at Bingley's mood. He had known of Miss Bennet's rejection of
his friend and felt not a little guilty. Had I only held my
tongue, you would have been happily married by now! "Come,
Charles, you need a bit of diversion. It is obvious your new
steward has things well in hand here. Come - the shooting will
be at its peak in Derbyshire. I must have you use this new double-barreled
gun I have just purchased."
"If you just
bought it, would you not wish to use it yourself?"
"It is temping,
to be sure, but as you are such a bad shot, I will still get
the lion's share of the coveys no matter what I shoot."
"Balderdash!
I outshot you last time! Do you not remember?" Bingley caught
the grin Darcy was trying to hide. "Oh, very well. But -
I cannot go alone."
Darcy blanched.
"Caroline?"
"Yes - sorry,
old man, but I was to go to Scarborough with her and the Hursts."
"They are welcomed
too, Charles…"
Bingley laughed.
"It is well to see there is something you cannot do, Darcy!
You are the worst liar I have ever met! Come, we will go with
you. It will give us something to do rather than think of…what
could have been."
Darcy wore a rueful
smile; he had confided to Bingley that Elizabeth Bennet had turned
him down in Kent when he confessed his interference with Miss
Bennet. "Yes - let us make merry together in Derbyshire."
~~~~}+{~~~~
To the little town
of Lambton, the scene of Mrs. Gardiner's former residence, and
where she had lately learned that some acquaintance still remained,
the party from Hertfordshire bent their steps, after having seen
all the principal wonders of Derbyshire. Within five miles of
Lambton, the Bennet girls found from their aunt that Pemberley
was situated very close by. It was not in their direct road,
but not more than a mile or two out of it. In talking over their
route the evening before, Mrs. Gardiner expressed an inclination
to see the place again. Mr. Gardiner declared his willingness,
and Jane was applied to for her approbation.
She glanced at her
sister. "I have no opinion on the matter. I leave it to
Lizzy."
"My love, should
not you like to see a place of which you have heard so much?''
said her aunt. ``A place too, with which so many of your acquaintance
are connected. Wickham passed all his youth there, you know.''
Elizabeth was distressed.
She felt that she had no business at Pemberley, and was obliged
to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She must own that she
was tired of great houses; after going over so many, she really
had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains.
Mrs. Gardiner abused
her stupidity. "If it were merely a fine house richly furnished,''
said she, "I should not care about it myself; but the grounds
are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the country.''
Elizabeth said no
more, but her mind could not acquiesce. The possibility of meeting
Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place, instantly occurred. It would
be dreadful! She blushed at the very idea; but felt she could
not further object without explaining herself to an embarrassing
degree.
Jane was of like
mind, for she knew of her sister's distress. Accordingly, when
she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid whether Pemberley
were not a very fine place and whether the family was down for
the summer. A most welcome negative followed the last question,
which she swiftly relayed to her sister.
Her alarms being
now removed, Elizabeth was at leisure to feel a great deal of
curiosity to see the house herself. When the subject was revived
the next morning and she was again applied to, could readily
answer, and with a proper air of indifference, that she had not
really any dislike to the scheme.
To Pemberley, therefore,
they were to go.
~~~~}+{~~~~
The Bennet girls,
as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of Pemberley
Woods with some perturbation; and when at length they turned
in at the lodge, their spirits were in a high flutter. The park
was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They entered
it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through
a beautiful wood, stretching over a wide extent.
Elizabeth's mind
was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every
remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for
half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable
eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught
by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley,
into which the road, with some abruptness, wound.
It was a large,
handsome, stone building, standing well on rising ground, and
backed by a ridge of high woody hills. In front, a stream of
some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without
any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal, nor
falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen
a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty
had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were
all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she
felt that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!
They descended the
hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door. While examining
the nearer aspect of the house, all of Elizabeth's apprehensions
of meeting its owner returned. She dreaded lest the chambermaid
had been mistaken. On applying to see the place, they were admitted
into the hall; and Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper,
had leisure to wonder at her being where she was.
The housekeeper
came; Mrs. Reynolds, a respectable-looking, elderly woman, much
less fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding
her. No gold leaf here! she thought impishly to herself.
They followed her into the dining-parlor. It was a large, well-proportioned
room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, after slightly surveying
it, went to a window to enjoy its prospect.
The hill, crowned
with wood, from which they had descended, receiving increased
abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition
of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene - the
river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the
valley, as far as she could trace it - with delight. As they
passed into other rooms, these objects were taking different
positions; but from every window there were beauties to be seen.
The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable
to the fortune of their proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration
of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with
less of splendor, and more real elegance, than the furniture
of Rosings.
And of this place,
I might have been mistress! With these rooms I might now have
been familiarly acquainted! Instead of viewing them as a stranger,
I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and welcomed to them
as visitors my uncle and aunt.
But no, that
could never be: my uncle and aunt would have been lost to me:
I should not have been allowed to invite them.
"And your master
is away?" asked Mr. Gardiner.
"Aye, that
he is," Mrs. Reynolds replied, adding, "but we expect
him tomorrow, with a large party of friends.''
Elizabeth's eyes
sought that of her sister's. How rejoiced were they that their
own journey had not by any circumstance been delayed a day!
Her aunt now called
her to look at a picture. She approached, and saw the likeness
of Mr. Wickham suspended, amongst several other miniatures, over
the mantelpiece. Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how she liked
it. The housekeeper came forward and sniffed, "That young
gentleman is the son of my late master's steward, and was brought
up at the Darcy family's expense. He is now gone into the army,
but I am afraid he has turned out very wild.'' Mrs. Gardiner
looked at her niece with a smile, but Elizabeth could not return
it.
"And that,''
said Mrs. Reynolds with a smile, pointing to another of the miniatures,
"is my master - and very like him.''
"I have heard
much of your master's fine person,'' said Mrs. Gardiner, looking
at the picture; "it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you
can tell us whether it is like or not.''
Mrs. Reynolds's
respect for Elizabeth seemed to increase on this intimation of
her knowing her master. "Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?''
Elizabeth colored,
and said, "A little; and my sister, too."
"And do you
ladies not you think him a very handsome gentleman?''
Jane answered serenely,
"Yes, very handsome.''
"I am sure
I know none so handsome." Mrs. Reynolds then directed their
attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn when she was only eight
years old.
"And is Miss
Darcy as handsome as her brother?'' said Mr. Gardiner.
"Oh! yes -
the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so accomplished!
She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is a new instrument
just come down for her - a present from my master; she comes
here tomorrow with him.''
"He is certainly
a good brother,'' said Jane.
"And this is
always the way with him. Whatever can give his sister any pleasure
is sure to be done in a moment. There is nothing he would not
do for her.''
Mr. Gardiner continued
the conversation. "Is your master much at Pemberley in the
course of the year?''
"Not so much
as I could wish, sir; but I dare say he may spend half his time
here; and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months.''
"If your master
would marry, you might see more of him.''
"Yes, sir;
but I do not know when that will be. I do not know who is good
enough for him.'' Elizabeth blushed, and Jane blushed for her.
At Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's smile, she continued. "I say
no more than the truth, and what everybody will say that knows
him! I have never had a cross word from him in my life, and I
have known him ever since he was four years old. I have always
observed that they who are good-natured when children are good-natured
when they grow up; and he was always the sweetest-tempered, most
generous-hearted boy in the world.''
Mr. Gardner was
successful in not rolling his eyes. "There are very few
people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in having such
a master.''
"Yes, sir,
I know I am. If I was to go through the world, I could not meet
with a better."
"His father
was an excellent man,'' said Mrs. Gardiner.
"Yes, ma'am,
that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him - just
as affable to the poor. He is the best landlord and the best
master that ever lived. Not like the wild young men now-a-days,
who think of nothing but themselves. There is not one of his
tenants or servants but what will give him a good name. Some
people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw anything of
it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like
other young men.''
"This fine
account of him,'' whispered her aunt, as they walked, "is
not quite consistent with his behavior to our poor friend.''
Elizabeth was mortified.
"Perhaps we might be deceived.''
"That is not
very likely; our authority was too good.''
No, it was not.
In the gallery there
were many family portraits, but they could have little to fix
the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked on in quest of
the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it
arrested her - and she beheld a striking resemblance of Mr. Darcy,
with such a smile over the face as she remembered to have sometimes
seen, when he looked at her. She stood several minutes before
the picture in earnest contemplation, feeling Jane's gaze on
her, and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery.
Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father's
life time.
There was certainly
at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, the most gentle sensation
towards the original than she had ever felt in the height of
their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs.
Reynolds was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable
than the praise of an intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord,
a master, how many people's happiness is in your guardianship!
How much of pleasure or pain it was in your power to bestow!
How much of good or evil must be done by you! Every idea
that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favorable
to his character, and as she stood before the canvas, on which
he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon herself, she thought
of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had
ever raised before. She remembered its warmth, and softened its
impropriety of expression.
When the entire
house that was open to general inspection had been seen, they
returned downstairs, and, taking leave of the housekeeper, were
consigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall door.
As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Elizabeth turned
back to look again; her uncle and aunt and sister stopped also,
and while the former was conjecturing as to the date of the building…
…the owner
of it himself suddenly came forward from the road, which led
behind it to the stables.
The only sound was
Jane's sudden intake of breath.
Elizabeth and Darcy
were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his
appearance that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes
instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the
deepest blush. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed
immoveable from surprise; but shortly recovering himself, he
advanced towards the party. He spoke to Elizabeth, if not in
terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.
"Miss Elizabeth!
H…how do you do?"
"Mr. Darcy!
I…I am well, thank you." She had instinctively turned
away; but, stopping on his approach, received his compliments
with an embarrassment impossible to be overcome. Jane immediately
came to her sister's aid.
"Mr. Darcy.
Good day, sir. We had no idea that you were at home."
Had his first appearance,
or his resemblance to the picture they had just been examining,
been insufficient to assure the Gardiners that they now saw Mr.
Darcy, the gardener's expression of surprise on beholding his
master must immediately have told it. They stood a little aloof
while he was talking to their nieces.
"Miss Bennet;
I am happy to see you. Is your family well?"
"They are in
good health, sir."
Are you visiting
the neighborhood?"
"Yes, we are."
"Where are
you staying?"
Elizabeth willed
herself to speak. "At the Green Man; in Lambton." Amazed
at the alteration in his manner since they last parted, every
sentence that he uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and
every idea of the impropriety of her being found there recurring
to her mind, the few minutes in which they continued together
were some of the most uncomfortable of her life.
"Ah…yes;
fine inn, that. Your family; are they well?"
Jane smiled. "They
are well."
Nor did Darcy seem
much more at ease; when he spoke, his accent had none of its
usual sedateness; and he repeated his enquiries as to the time
of her having left Longbourn, and of her stay in Derbyshire,
so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the distraction
of his thoughts. At length, every idea seemed to fail him; and,
after standing a few moments without saying a word, he suddenly
recollected himself, and took leave.
The others then
joined them, and expressed their admiration of his figure; but
Elizabeth heard not a word, and, wholly engrossed by her own
feelings, followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame
and vexation. My coming here is the most unfortunate, the
most ill-judged thing in the world! How strange must it appear
to him! In what a disgraceful light I must appear! It must seem
as if I have purposely thrown myself in his way again! Oh, why
did I come? His behavior, so strikingly altered - what could
it mean? That he should even speak to me is amazing! But to speak
with such civility, to enquire after my family! Only Jane
seemed aware of her inner struggle. She longed to be of use to
her sister, but knew not what to do while her aunt and uncle
remained so close at hand.
They had now entered
a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and every step was
bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer reach of
the woods to which they were approaching; but it was some time
before Elizabeth was sensible of any of it; and, though she answered
mechanically to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and
seemed to direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed out,
she distinguished no part of the scene.
The others had walked
enough ahead for Jane to attempt to talk to Elizabeth. "My
dear sister! How can you bear it?"
"Oh, Jane!
What must he think of me!"
"He seemed
to meet you with pleasure."
"Pain or of
pleasure I cannot say; he certainly had not met me with composure!"
In defiance of everything, am I still dear to him? Oh, what
is he thinking?
They crossed it
by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the
scene; it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited;
and the valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only
for the stream, and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood
which bordered it. Elizabeth longed to explore its windings;
but when they had crossed the bridge, and perceived their distance
from the house, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great walker, could
go no farther, and thought only of returning to the carriage
as quickly as possible. Her nieces were, therefore, obliged to
submit, and they took their way towards the house on the opposite
side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their progress
was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to indulge the
taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching
the occasional appearance of some trout in the water, and talking
to the man about them, that he advanced but little.
Whilst wandering
on in this slow manner, they were again surprised, and Elizabeth's
astonishment was quite equal to what it had been at first, by
the sight of Mr. Darcy approaching them, and at no great distance.
The walk being here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed
them to see him before they met. Elizabeth, however astonished,
was at least more prepared for an interview than before, and
resolved to appear and to speak with calmness.
With a glance she
saw that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate
his politeness, she began, "Mr. Darcy, I must say that your
home is lovely, charming and delightful. I am sorry to intrude
upon you; had we known you were to be here we would not have
troubled you."
Darcy's eyes were
both warm and nervous, she realized with a start. Why, he
is shy! How is it I have never realized that before?
"Please, Miss
Elizabeth, Miss Bennet; I am truly happy to welcome you to Pemberley.
Forgive my abrupt welcome - I was not properly prepared to greet
guests." He indicated his change of clothes. "I am
now armed to play the host to you." He indicated the others.
"Will you do me the honor of introducing me to your friends?"
This was a stroke
of civility for which she was quite unprepared; and she could
hardly suppress a smile at his being now seeking the acquaintance
of some of those very people against whom his pride had revolted
in his offer to herself.
Jane did the honors,
and Elizabeth could not but be pleased, could not but triumph
at his more than cordial response. It was consoling that he should
know she had some relations for whom there was no need
to blush. She listened most attentively to all that passed between
them, and gloried in every expression, every sentence of her
uncle, which marked his intelligence, his taste, or his good
manners. The conversation soon turned upon fishing, and she heard
Mr. Darcy invite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there
as often as he chose while he continued in the neighborhood,
offering at the same time to supply him with fishing tackle,
and pointing out those parts of the stream where there was usually
most sport.
Mrs. Gardiner, who
was walking arm in arm with Elizabeth and Jane, gave her a look
expressive of her wonder. Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified
her exceedingly; the compliment must be all for herself. Her
astonishment, however, was extreme. Why is he so altered?
From what can it proceed? It cannot be for me; it cannot be for
my sake that his manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Hunsford
could not work such a change as this. I should say that he still
loves me, if I did not know it to be impossible. Jane only
gave her sister a very knowing look, which vexed her exceedingly.
Soon there chanced
to be an alteration. It originated in Mrs. Gardiner, who, fatigued
by the exercise of the morning, found her nieces' arms inadequate
to her support, and consequently preferred her husband's. Mr.
Darcy took her place by her nieces, one on each arm, and they
walked on together.
After a short silence,
the younger lady first spoke. "Mr. Darcy, your housekeeper
informed us that you would certainly not be here 'till tomorrow.''
"True, Miss
Elizabeth, but as I had business with my steward, I rode on ahead.
My party will join me early tomorrow, and among them are some
who will claim an acquaintance with you both." Here he glanced
at Jane. "Mr. Bingley and his sisters.''
Jane colored; now
it was her turn to be mortified. But for Elizabeth's sake, she
said, "How lovely. I hope they are in good health."
Darcy was not convinced
at the lady's composure, but said nothing. To Elizabeth he said,
"There is also one other person in the party who more particularly
wishes to be known to you. Will you allow me - or do I ask too
much - to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your
stay at Lambton?''
The surprise of
such an application was great indeed. "Miss Darcy? I should
be pleased…oh, Jane…"
Jane had recovered
enough for her patented smile. "I would be delighted to
meet her; and to be reacquainted with the Bingleys."
They now walked
on in silence; each of them deep in thought. Neither Bennet girl
was comfortable; that was impossible; but Elizabeth was flattered
and pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to her was a
compliment of the highest kind.
Soon the driveway
way achieved, and after turning down refreshments, Mr. Darcy
handed the ladies into the carriage. As it drove off, Elizabeth
saw him walking slowly towards the house, watching their progress.
~~~~}+{~~~~
Mr. Gardiner exclaimed
as soon as it was acceptable, "He is perfectly well behaved,
polite, and unassuming."
"There is something
a little stately in him to be sure,'' replied his wife, "but
it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming. I can now say
with the housekeeper, that though some people may call him proud,
I have seen nothing of it. To be sure, Lizzy, he is decidedly
handsome! But how came you to tell us that he was so disagreeable?''
Elizabeth excused
herself as well as she could; said that she had liked him better
when they met in Kent than before, and that she had never seen
him so pleasant as this morning. Jane said nothing.
"But perhaps
he may be a little whimsical in his civilities,'' replied her
uncle. "Your great men often are; and therefore I shall
not take him at his word about fishing, as he might change his
mind another day, and warn me off his grounds.''
Jane now came to
his defense. "Uncle, you have entirely mistaken Mr. Darcy's
character. If he invited you to fishing, I believe you may rely
on it."
"From what
we have seen of him,'' continued Mrs. Gardiner, "I really
should not have thought that he could have behaved in so cruel
a way by anybody, as he has done by poor Wickham. He has not
an ill-natured look. On the contrary, there is something pleasing
about his mouth when he speaks. And there is something of dignity
in his countenance that would not give one an unfavorable idea
of his heart. But to be sure, the good lady who showed us the
house did give him a most flaming character! I could hardly help
laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a liberal master, I suppose,
and that in the eye of a servant comprehends every virtue.''
Elizabeth here glanced
at Jane, who nodded. "Aunt, I feel I am called on to say
something in vindication of Mr. Darcy's behavior to Mr. Wickham,"
and therefore gave them to understand, in as guarded a manner
as she could, that by what she had heard from his relations in
Kent, his actions were capable of a very different construction;
and that his character was by no means so faulty, nor Wickham's
so amiable, as they had been considered in Hertfordshire. In
confirmation of this, Jane related the particulars of all the
pecuniary transactions in which they had been connected, without
actually naming her authority, but stating it to be such as might
be relied on.
Mrs. Gardiner was
surprised and concerned, but said nothing more than, "But
why have you told us nothing of this before?"
Again after exchanging
glances with her sister, Elizabeth replied, "I did not wish
to speak of something I was told, but not certain of."
It was with love
and kindness that her aunt returned, "Then this is a changed
Elizabeth, indeed."
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