I believe I was as nervous as Georgiana when we were admitted. Elizabeth seemed embarrassed, but no sooner had I introduced Georgiana than she regained her composure. Between the two of them there seemed a genuine warmth. Georgiana was shy, and spoke in no more than monosyllables at first, but Elizabeth persevered, asking her questions and gently leading her to speak. Georgiana grew easier in her manner, and before long they were sitting together.
‘You must not forget you promised to fish in my river,’ I said to Mr Gardiner.
He looked surprised, as though he thought I might have changed my mind, but he agreed readily enough.
I could not help my gaze drifting to Elizabeth, and I believe it would have remained there had we not been interrupted by Bingley. Fortunately his sisters had not come downstairs by the time we departed, or we should have been obliged to invite them to go with us.
Elizabeth’s expression softened on seeing him. She did not hold his inconstancy against him, then. I was glad. I had been the cause of it, not he. If not for his natural modesty, he would have pursued his own course instead of listening to me.
‘Your family are well, I hope? said he.
‘Yes, quite well, I thank you.’
‘Your mother and father?’
‘They are in good health.’
‘And your sisters?’
‘Yes, they are well.’
‘Good.’ He paused, as embarrassed as I had been the day before. ‘It is a very long time since I had the pleasure of seeing you.’ She opened her mouth to reply, but he went on: ‘It is above eight months. We have not met since the twenty-sixth of November, when we were all dancing together at Netherfield.’
How long ago it seemed. And what dramas had unfolded since then.
‘When will you be returning to Longbourn?’ he asked.
‘Soon. In a little less than a week.’
‘You will be pleased to see your sisters again.’
Elizabeth smiled. She could not be ignorant of the cause of all this talk about her sisters.
‘Yes.’
‘And they to see you.’
‘I’m sure they will.’
‘I am thinking of returning to Netherfield myself,’ he said nonchalantly.
‘Oh? I had heard a rumour you meant to quit it.’
‘Not at all. It is quite the pleasantest house I have ever come across.’
‘And yet you have been a long time away.’
‘I had business to attend to,’ he said. ‘But now I am my own master.’
Elizabeth’s eyes met mine, and we smiled. I was sure she knew what Bingley meant when he said, Now I am my own master.
I noticed her aunt glancing from one to the other of us, but I did not disguise my admiration for her niece. Let her know it. I would like to let all the world know. I am in love with Elizabeth Bennet.
I made it my concern to be agreeable. It was not difficult. I simply pretended that I had known the Gardiners all my life. It is remarkable how simple it is to be easy with strangers once one has the knack. And the determination, I could not help admitting. I would not give myself the trouble before. Now, I made an effort to be liked.
We stayed above half an hour. It was a little over-long for a morning visit, perhaps, but I could not tear myself away. At last I noticed Mrs Gardiner glancing at the clock, and knew we must be on our way.
‘I hope you will join us for dinner before you leave the neighbourhood,’ I said, glancing at Georgiana so that she joined me in the invitation.
‘Yes, we would like it very much if you could join us,’ she said shyly.
I looked to Elizabeth, but she looked away. I was not concerned. There was a look of awkwardness, not hostility on her face, but in time I hoped we would come to know each other better, and her awkwardness would fade away.
‘We would be delighted,’ said Mrs Gardiner.
‘Shall we say the day after tomorrow?’
‘The day after tomorrow it is.’
‘I will look forward to it,’ said Elizabeth.
She caught my eye as she said it, and I smiled. I saw an answering smile rise to her own lips, and I was satisfied.
‘I am also looking forward to it,’ said Bingley to Elizabeth. ‘We have a great deal to talk about. I would like to hear about all my Hertfordshire friends.’
We departed, and returned to Pemberley.
Georgiana returned to her room to remove her pelisse and bonnet. I went into the morning room with Bingley, to find Caroline and Louisa there.
‘You have been out?’ asked Caroline.
‘Yes, visiting Miss Bennet,’ said Bingley.
‘Jane Bennet is here?’ asked Caroline in surprise.
‘I should have said, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’
Even worse, said Caroline’s expression. She quickly schooled it, however.
‘Dear me, what a coincidence that she just happens to be in Derbyshire when you return, Mr Darcy.’
‘Yes. It is fortunate, is it not?’ I asked.
She looked as though she would like to say something satirical, but thought better of it.
‘I would like to see her again. I think I will pay her a call. What do you say, Louisa? Will you come with me?’
‘There is no need,’ said her brother. ‘She is coming here.’
‘Here?’ Caroline sounded horrified.
‘Darcy invited her to dinner.’
‘With her aunt and uncle,’ I added.
‘Not the attorney from Meryton?’ she asked in a droll voice.
‘No, the uncle who lives in Cheapside,’ I replied, removing her sting.
She looked annoyed. ‘And is he very vulgar?’ she asked.
‘He must be. My dear! Cheapside,’ said Louisa with a shudder.
‘He is in fact a gentleman-like man, and his wife is a lady of fashion.’
‘And are we to meet these paragons?’ said Caroline, with a flash in her eyes. ‘How entertaining.’
I listened with complaisance as she ran on in a similar fashion. Nothing she could say could pierce my happiness. I thought only of Elizabeth. She had not repulsed me. She had not spoken to me with disgust and contempt. She had been polite, and agreeable, and there had been that in her manner which led me to hope she was not indifferent to me.
When I think how once I had taken it for granted that she would marry me! That I had not even considered the possibility that she might refuse me. And now, though I felt hope rising inside me, I cautioned myself that my feelings might not be returned.
But I will not think so far ahead. I am to see her the day after tomorrow. It is enough.
Thursday 7th August
Mr Gardiner arrived here early this morning and I took him down to the river, together with some other of my house-guests. He is knowledgeable about fishing, and I provided him with tackle so that he might try his luck at catching something. My other guests had brought their own. I was about to join them when a chance remark of Mr Gardiner’s made me change my mind.
‘It was very civil of your sister to pay us a visit yesterday, Mr Darcy. My wife and niece were much struck by the attention,’ he said. ‘They have resolved to return the call this morning.’
‘That is very good of them,’ I said, when I could master my surprise.
‘They did not want to be backward in any attention.’
‘I hope you enjoy your fishing,’ I said to the gentlemen. ‘If you will excuse me, I have to return to the house.’
My house-guests murmured civilities, assuming I had business to attend to, but I saw a look of comprehension on Mr Gardiner’s face. So he knows. I am not surprised. I took no care to guard my feelings when I visited his niece. I am beyond feigning a lack of interest.
I returned to the house and went into the saloon. My eyes went immediately to Elizabeth. I knew instantly that she belonged there. As I watched her, I saw a future stretching out in front of me, a future in which I saw Elizabeth and myself living at Pemberley. I wanted it more than I have ever wan
ted anything, and I can only hope she wants the same.
‘Miss Bennet, Mrs Gardiner, it is very good of you to call on my sister so soon,’ I said.
‘Oh, yes, very good,’ said Georgiana, blushing. ‘I did not expect it.’
‘We could not do otherwise, after your kindness in welcoming us,’ said Mrs Gardiner to Georgiana.
Georgiana blushed again, but I had eyes only for Elizabeth. Her gaze met mine. She looked away, embarrassed, and yet I thought I saw a welcome in her eyes before she turned away.
Caroline and Louisa were sitting silently, making no contribution to the conversation and leaving Georgiana to perform her duties as a hostess alone.
Mrs Annesley helped her, saying to Elizabeth; ‘The grounds at Pemberley are very fine. I believe you saw them a few days ago?’
‘Yes, we enjoyed walking round them very much,’ said Elizabeth ‘The trees are very handsome.’ She glanced out of the window at some specimens.
‘They are Spanish chestnuts,’ Georgiana said softly, pleased to be able to add something to the conversation.
‘Have they been here long?’ asked Elizabeth, turning towards her encouragingly.
‘Oh, yes, they are very old.’
Georgiana looked at me for approval and I smiled at her. She has not had much experience of welcoming guests, and none at all of welcoming people whom she does not know, but she acquitted herself very well.
Caroline evidently felt she had been silent long enough.
‘Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the militia removed from Meryton? They must be a great loss to your family.’
I had never heard her speak with such venom. Her satirical comments were usually uttered with some semblance of a smile, but there was nothing humorous about them today, and I realized for the first time how truly poisonous Caroline can be.
I saw Elizabeth’s distress. A thousand recollections flooded my mind. My own ungenerous remarks concerning her younger sisters; her face as she flung an accusation of ruining Wickham at me; my angry retaliation; and then my letter.
I felt for her, but she had no need of my assistance in repelling the attack. After a moment’s distress she replied: ‘It is always sad to lose the company of intelligent and good-natured people. There are those who enter a neighbourhood with a view of mocking all they see, or an intention of forming false friendships with which to while away their time whilst giving no thought to the feelings of those who must remain. But we were fortunate with the officers. They were polite and well-bred. They gave us pleasure when they were with us, and left nothing but pleasant memories behind when they went.’
I caught Elizabeth’s eye and smiled. Caroline was silenced, and my sister was relieved from the acute embarrassment she had experienced when Caroline’s words had reminded her of George Wickham. I was relieved of a great burden. By her calm manner I believed Elizabeth’s infatuation with Wickham to be over.
The visit came to an end, but I could not bear to let Elizabeth go.
‘You must let me see you to the carriage,’ I said, as Mrs Gardiner rose to take her leave.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
I walked with them, glad of the opportunity it afforded me to be with Elizabeth. Her aunt walked a little ahead, so that I could talk to her alone.
‘I hope you have enjoyed your morning.’
‘Yes, thank you, I have.’
‘I hope I will see you here again.’
We had reached the carriage, I could say no more. But my feelings were in my glance. She blushed, and looked down, from confusion, I hope. There is still some little awkwardness between us, but that will pass, and then I will discover if her feelings towards me are still what they were at Easter.
I handed Mrs Gardiner into the carriage. I handed Elizabeth in after her, and the carriage pulled away.
Little had I known when I had returned to Pemberley that it would hold so much of interest for me. It would soon have a new mistress, I hoped. I looked across the sweeping lawns and pictured my sons going down to the river to fish I looked to the house and saw my daughters returning from a walk, their petticoats covered in mud. If I could be sure it would come to pass, I would think myself lucky indeed.
I was loath to return to the saloon, but knew it must be done. I could not leave Georgiana alone with Caroline and Louisa. They had done nothing to help her during Elizabeth’s visit, and had indeed added to her distress. If it was possible to invite Bingley to Pemberley without his sisters I would willingly do so.
‘How very ill Miss Eliza Bennet looks this morning,’ said Caroline, as soon as I entered the room. ‘She is grown so brown and coarse. Louisa and I were agreeing that we should not have known her again.’
It was clear to me that Caroline’s remarks were inspired by jealousy. I had wondered, on occasion, if she fancied herself the next Mrs Darcy, but dismissed the notion. Now I was sure of it. I was determined not to let her ill-natured remarks ruin my happiness, however.
‘I saw nothing different about her, except that she was rather tanned, no miraculous consequence of travelling in summer.’
‘For my own part,’ she went on spitefully, ‘I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her.’
As she went on to criticize Elizabeth’s nose, chin, complexion and teeth I grew more and more annoyed, but said nothing, even when she added: ‘And as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine, I never could perceive anything extraordinary in them.’
She looked at me challengingly, but I remained determinedly silent.
‘I remember your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield: ‘she a beauty! – I should as soon call her mother a wit.’
‘Yes,’ I replied, unable to contain myself, ‘but that was only when I first knew her, for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.’
And so saying, I walked out of the room.
Caroline’s impertinence goes beyond all bounds. If she was not Bingley’s sister I would tell her to leave. To insult Elizabeth, to me! She must be far gone with jealousy indeed.
But she cannot pierce my happiness. I love Elizabeth. Now it only remains to be seen if Elizabeth loves me.
Friday 8th August
I could not sleep last night, but this time the cause was happiness. I think Elizabeth is not averse to me. In time, I think, she might come to like me. I thank the happy fate that brought her to Derbyshire, and the happier one that prompted me to ride ahead of the rest of my party, in time to meet her. In London, I tried to forget her, but it was impossible. Now, I must try to win her.
I went to the inn, therefore, this morning, hoping to sit with her. I was shown up to the parlour by the servant. As we went upstairs I wondered what expression would cross her face when I entered the room. By that, I might know much. A smile would show I was welcome. Embarrassment would give me leave to hope. A cold look would dash me completely.
The door opened. But instead of seeing Elizabeth sitting with her aunt, I saw her darting towards the door, her face pale and her manner agitated. I started, thinking some great calamity must have befallen her to produce such a look, but before I had a chance to speak she turned anguished eyes to mine and exclaimed: ‘I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find Mr Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot be delayed; I have not an instant to lose.’
‘Good God! What is the matter?’ I asked, longing to be of service to her. As soon as the words were out, I knew how unhelpful they had been. Collecting myself, I said: ‘Let me, or let the servant, go after Mr Gardiner. You are not well enough; you cannot go yourself.’
‘Oh, yes, the servant.’ She called him back and said breathlessly: ‘You must find my uncle. Fetch him at once. It is a matter of the utmost urgency. Send a boy. Tell him his niece needs him immediately. Tell my aunt. She must come, too.’
The servant promised to do so, and left the room.
I saw Elizabeth’s knees tremble and I moved forward, read
y to lend her my assistance, but she sat down before I could reach her, looking so miserably ill that I could not have left her, even if I had wanted to.
‘Let me call your maid,’ I said gently, feeling suddenly useless. I knew nothing about helping ladies in such circumstances. A sudden thought hit me. ‘A glass of wine, shall I fetch you one?’
‘No, I thank you,’ she said. I saw her wrestle with herself and control the worst of her agitation. ‘I am quite well. I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn.’
She burst into tears. I longed to go to her and comfort her. I longed to put my arms around her and ease her pain. But I could do nothing. For the first time in my life I cursed civility, good manners and breeding. They had always seemed so important to me, but they now seemed valueless because they were keeping me from Elizabeth.
A moment longer and I believe I would have thrown convention to the wind, but she recovered herself and said; ‘I have just had a letter from Jane, with such dreadful news. My youngest sister has left all her friends – has eloped – has thrown herself into the power of – of Mr Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton. You know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him – she is lost for ever.’
I could not believe what I was hearing. This was perfidy indeed. To steal a young girl away from her relatives and friends. And yet he had done it before, or at least he had tried to do it and would have succeeded if he had not been foiled in the attempt.
‘When I consider that I might have prevented it! I who knew what he was,’ she said.
No, I wanted to say. You are not to blame. I should have made his nature known. But the words were pouring out of her in a torrent, and I could do nothing but let her speak. At last, her flow came to an end.
‘But is it certain, absolutely certain?’ I asked.
News travels fast, especially bad news, but it is often distorted along the way. I could not think that Wickham would elope with Miss Lydia Bennet. She had nothing to tempt him, and he had no score to settle with the Bennets. He must know that such behaviour would make him an outcast. It was too great a price to pay for the pleasure of marrying a silly young girl with no name and no fortune. And then, indeed, how could he marry her? She was under age. He could take her to Gretna Green but the journey would cost a great deal, and I knew he would not spend half that amount unless his bride was a considerable heiress.
Mr. Darcy's Diary Page 15