Pride and Prejudice (Clandestine Classics)

by Jane Austen

  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. Her thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where Mr Darcy then was. She longed to know what at the moment was passing in his mind—in what manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything, she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had been civil only because he felt himself at ease, yet there had been that in his voice which was not like ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing her she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with composure.

  At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of mind aroused her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself.

  They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while, ascended some of the higher grounds. Here, in spots where the opening of the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of the valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading many, and occasionally part of the stream. Mr Gardiner expressed a wish of going round the whole park, but feared it might be beyond a walk. With a triumphant smile they were told that it was ten miles round. It settled the matter, and they pursued the accustomed circuit, which brought them again, after some time, in a descent among hanging woods, to the edge of the water, and one of its narrowest parts. 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 niece was, 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 here being 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, if he really intended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed, she felt that he would probably strike into some other path. The idea lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their view. The turning past, he was immediately before them. With a glance, she saw that he had lost none of his recent civility, and, to imitate his politeness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place, but she had not got beyond the words “delightful,” and “charming,” when some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pemberley from her might be mischievously construed. Her colour changed, and she said no more. She did not want Darcy to think that his proposal was favourable to her now because she had seen his estate—her pride would not allow it.

  Mrs Gardiner was standing a little behind, and on her pausing, he asked her if she would do him the honour of introducing him to her 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. “What will be his surprise,” thought she, “when he knows who they are? He takes them now for people of fashion.”

  The introduction, however, was immediately made, and as she named their relationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore it, and was not without the expectation of his decamping as fast as he could from such disgraceful companions. That he was surprised by the connection was evident. He sustained it, however, with fortitude, and so far from going away, turned back with them, and entered into conversation with Mr Gardiner. Elizabeth could not but be pleased, could not but triumph. 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 neighbourhood, 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, gave her a look expressive of wonder. Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly. The compliment must be all for herself. Her astonishment, however, was extreme, and continually was she repeating, “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. It is impossible that he should still love me.”

  After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front, the two gentlemen behind, on resuming their places, after descending to the brink of the river for the better inspection of some curious water-plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. It originated in Mrs Gardiner, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found Elizabeth’s arm inadequate to her support, and consequently preferred her husband’s. Mr Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on together. After a short silence, the lady first spoke. She wished him to know that she had been assured of his absence before she came to the place, and accordingly began by observing, that his arrival had been very unexpected—“for your housekeeper,” she added, “informed us that you would certainly not be here till tomorrow, and indeed, before we left Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately expected in the country.” He acknowledged the truth of it all, and said that business with his steward had occasioned his coming forward a few hours before the rest of the party with whom he had been travelling. “They will join me early tomorrow,” he continued, “and among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with you—Mr Bingley and his sisters.”

  Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow. Her thoughts were instantly driven back to the time when Mr Bingley’s name had been the last mentioned between them, and, if she might judge by his complexion, his mind was not very differently engaged.

  “There is also one other person in the party,” he continued after a pause, “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. It was too great for her to know in what manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her must be the work of her brother, and, without looking further, it was satisfactory. It was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made him think really ill of her.

  They now walked on in silence, each of them deep in thought. Elizabeth was not comfortable, that was impossible, but she was flattered and pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to her was a compliment of the highest kind. They soon outstripped the others, and when they had reached the carriage, Mr and Mrs Gardiner were half a quarter of a mile behind.

  He then asked her to walk into the house—but she declared herself not tired, and they stood together on the law
n. At such a time much might have been said, and silence was very awkward. She wanted to talk, but there seemed to be an embargo on every subject. At last she recollected that she had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dove Dale with great perseverance. Yet time and her aunt moved slowly—and her patience and her ideas were nearly worn out before the tête-à-tête was over. Elizabeth wanted to apologise, to make some remark about the contents of Mr Darcy’s letter, but she had not the faintest of ideas on how to approach the subject. She could barely look at him without remembering the way his mouth tasted, or the pleasure she had received from his tongue, his body, the ecstasy something she had never experienced before. The memories made her cheeks fill with heat and she had to look away lest he see her embarrassment. While her aunt and uncle were still a little while away, Mr Darcy met Elizabeth’s gaze, took hold of her hand and kissed the back of it, his eyes never leaving hers. Elizabeth gasped, surprised by the gesture, for it felt as intimate as when his mouth had been on other parts of her body.

  Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped. “Mr Darcy, I…”

  “Don’t say it.” He shook his head, a small smile playing on his full lips. “Please, allow me this.”

  She nodded her acquiescence and they were again silent. On Mr and Mrs Gardiner’s coming up they were all pressed to go into the house and take some refreshment, but this was declined, much to Elizabeth’s relief, and they parted on each side with utmost politeness. Mr Darcy handed the ladies into the carriage, and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him walking slowly towards the house.

  The observations of her uncle and aunt now began, and each of them pronounced him to be infinitely superior to anything they had expected. “He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming,” said her uncle.

  “There is something a little stately in him, to be sure,” replied her aunt, “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.”

  “I was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us. It was more than civil, it was really attentive, and there was no necessity for such attention. His acquaintance with Elizabeth was very trifling.”

  “To be sure, Lizzy,” said her aunt, “he is not so handsome as Wickham, or, rather, he has not Wickham’s countenance, for his features are perfectly good. But how came you to tell me that he was so disagreeable?”

  Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could, said that she had liked him better when they had met in Kent than before, and that she had never seen him so pleasant as this morning.

  “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, as he might change his mind another day, and warn me off his grounds.”

  Elizabeth felt that they had entirely misunderstood his character, but said nothing.

  “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 unfavourable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, the good lady who showed us his 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 felt herself called on to say something in vindication of his behaviour to 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, she 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 as they were now approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave way to the charm of recollection, and she was too much engaged in pointing out to her husband all the interesting spots in its environs to think of anything else. Fatigued as she had been by the morning’s walk they had no sooner dined than she set off again in quest of her former acquaintance, and the evening was spent in the satisfactions of an intercourse renewed after many years’ discontinuance.

  The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave Elizabeth much attention for any of these new friends, and she could do nothing but think, and think with wonder, of Mr Darcy’s civility, and, above all, of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister. And what of the kiss? It might have only been her hand, but the gesture itself spoke of intimacy and warm regard. Maybe Mr Darcy’s affections were still solid. Elizabeth did not dare to hope.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Elizabeth had settled it that Mr Darcy would bring his sister to visit her the very day after her reaching Pemberley, and was consequently resolved not to be out of sight of the inn the whole of that morning. But her conclusion was false, for on the very morning after their arrival at Lambton, these visitors came. They had been walking about the place with some of their new friends, and were just returning to the inn to dress themselves for dining with the same family, when the sound of a carriage drew them to a window, and they saw a gentleman and a lady in a curricle driving up the street. Elizabeth, immediately recognising the livery, guessed what it meant, and imparted no small degree of her surprise to her relations by acquainting them with the honour which she expected. Her uncle and aunt were all amazement, and the embarrassment of her manner as she spoke, joined to the circumstance itself, and many of the circumstances of the preceding day, opened to them a new idea on the business. Nothing had ever suggested it before, but they felt that there was no other way of accounting for such attentions from such a quarter than by supposing a partiality for their niece. While these newly-born notions were passing in their heads, the perturbation of Elizabeth’s feelings was at every moment increasing. She was quite amazed at her own discomposure, but amongst other causes of disquiet, she dreaded lest the partiality of the brother should have said too much in her favour, and, more than commonly anxious to please, she naturally suspected that every power of pleasing would fail her.

  She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen, and as she walked up and down the room, endeavouring to compose herself, saw such looks of enquiring surprise in her uncle and aunt as made everything worse.

  Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, and this formidable introduction took place. With astonishment did Elizabeth see that her new acquaintance was at least as much embarrassed as herself. Since her being at Lambton, she had heard that Miss Darcy was exceedingly proud, but the observation of a very few minutes convinced her that she was only exceedingly shy. She found it difficult to obtain even a word from her beyond a monosyllable.

  Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth, and, though little more than sixteen, her figure was formed, and her appearance womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother, but there was sense and good humour in her face, and her manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle. Elizabeth, who had expected to find in her as acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr Darcy had been, was much relieved by discerning such different feelings.

  They had not long been together before Mr Darcy told her that Bingley was also coming to wait on her, and she had barely time to express her satisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Bingley’s quick step was heard on the stairs, and in a moment he entered the room. All Elizabeth’s anger against him had been long done away, but had she still felt any, it could hardly have stood its ground against the unaffected cordiality with which he expressed himself on seeing her again. He enquired in a friendly, th
ough general way, after her family, and looked and spoke with the same good-humoured ease that he had ever done.

  To Mr and Mrs Gardiner he was scarcely a less interesting personage than to herself. They had long wished to see him. The whole party before them, indeed, excited a lively attention. The suspicions which had just arisen of Mr Darcy and their niece directed their observation towards each with an earnest though guarded enquiry, and they soon drew from those enquiries the full conviction that one of them at least knew what it was to love. Of the lady’s sensations they remained a little in doubt, but that the gentleman was overflowing with admiration was evident enough. Darcy scarcely tore his eyes from Elizabeth’s face and the warmth in his eyes as he regarded her was evident to all, except maybe to Elizabeth, who, on her side, had much to do. She wanted to ascertain the feelings of each of her visitors, she wanted to compose her own, and to make herself agreeable to all, and in the latter object, where she feared most to fail, she was most sure of success, for those to whom she endeavoured to give pleasure were prepossessed in her favour. Bingley was ready, Georgiana was eager, and Darcy determined, to be pleased.

  In seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturally flew to her sister, and, oh, how ardently did she long to know whether any of his were directed in a like manner. Sometimes she could fancy that he talked less than on former occasions, and once or twice pleased herself with the notion that, as he looked at her, he was trying to trace a resemblance. But, though this might be imaginary, she could not be deceived as to his behaviour to Miss Darcy, who had been set up as a rival to Jane. No look appeared on either side that spoke particular regard. Nothing occurred between them that could justify the hopes of his sister. On this point she was soon satisfied, and two or three little circumstances occurred ere they parted, which, in her anxious interpretation, denoted a recollection of Jane not untinctured by tenderness, and a wish of saying more that might lead to the mention of her, had he dared. He observed to her, at a moment when the others were talking together, and in a tone which had something of real regret, that it “was a very long time since he had had the pleasure of seeing her,” and, before she could reply, he added, “It is above eight months. We have not met since the 26th of November, when we were all dancing together at Netherfield.”