The two men arrived at the storehouse, a heavily built stone edifice with arrow-slit windows and a slate roof; to Darcy’s knowledge, it had never before been used for this purpose. A group of five or six men stood in front of it, although several drifted off into the trees at the sight of the riders. Their leader was a bulky individual with red hair, who, though large, was quite soft about the middle, and whose legs turned in at the knees from holding up his bulk; this, Darcy remembered, was John Ferguson. He had a belligerent look to him, and set down a bottle as he turned round to face them.
“What’re ye doin’ here, Stevenson?” he demanded angrily.
“As the maintenance of this storehouse was given to the Darcy family by King James II, I should rather ask what you are doing here, Ferguson,” Darcy replied, piqued by the man’s manner, and by his addressing his steward rather than himself.
Ferguson spat. “Ye’ve not been doin’ much maintenance in a mort o’ years,” said he in a combative manner, “so why start now? These three was poachin’ your lands, and they nearly did for Jimmie Sayers; but what have ye done about it? Nought!” he spat again.
Darcy began to dismount, but Ferguson shouted: “Back on your horse, little man, and run off back t’ London!” Darcy paused long enough to look the man in the eye, then very deliberately continued to dismount. As he got his feet to the ground, Ferguson came around the animal sharply to confront him, only to come up short at the sight of the master of Pemberley, who topped him by two or three inches, and stood easily before him, his hand resting in a relaxed manner on the animal’s flank.
“Ferguson,” said Darcy, “it appears to me that you have got too used to pushing smaller men around; if you have a mind to see the other side of that coin, I am at your disposal.” Darcy was no pugilist, but the man’s arrogance had raised his temper, and he was not troubled by anything like reservations at that moment; rather, he was envisioning how that ruddy face would look, if it were liberally festooned with a brighter red. He added, “If you are inclined to oblige me, I suggest you finish it at a blow, as too much sudden exertion can be dangerous for a man your size.” Ferguson’s face registered a sort of animal-like bafflement, not unlike a cat set to pounce on a canary, only to run into its mistress’ broom at the last moment; like most bullies, he was completely unprepared for a composed resistance. On Ferguson’s hesitation, Darcy looked around at the other men: “Any one else who feels in need of exercise?” Amongst that group there was a sudden fascination with their footwear. “No? Well, then…Ferguson,” he said with an air of indifference, “take care to go back by way of the front of the horse, if you would; this animal starts easily when any one gets behind him.” Unseen by Ferguson, Darcy put his thumb into a particular spot on his horse’s belly, just at the top of the near-hind leg; the horse gave an obligingly vicious kick at this provocation, as was his wont: Darcy had learnt the trick from his farrier.
Ferguson stood there indecisively some moments, his fists clenching and unclenching, then he shuffled off, carefully avoiding even the horse’s head. “Mind you take the bottles,” Darcy called. “This is no rubbish pit.” Muttering, Ferguson stooped to pick up the bottle, which he would have done in any event, as it was nearly full; Darcy’s making it an order, however, made him wish very much to leave it: but his thirst and his native parsimony overcame his dignity. Gathering his followers by eye, he began shuffling back towards the town.
When the men had disappeared around the turning into town, Darcy blew out his breath, and quietly muttered an oath or two. “I see why you do not take to the man, Stevenson,” said he to the other, who still sat his horse. “There is a great deal too much of him, and none of it pleasant.”
“Indeed. Well, that made my day, Mr. Darcy,” Stevenson admitted, “but what next? We cannot keep this lot here until the quarter sessions: they would never live that long.”
“No, but we can send them down to Derby to the magistrate’s court there; then they will be remanded until the next session and held there.”
“Can we do that legally? Transport them to Derby, I mean.”
“Who is to stop us? But it just so happens I am in possession of a writ, deputizing ‘Darcy of Pemberley’ as a sheriff for the county. It was my father’s, actually, but I believe it will serve. Mr. Horton, of Catton Hall, is High Sheriff just now, and he is a decent sort; I do not believe he will trouble himself over the fact that the writ is ten years out of date.”
Chapter Ten
That night, alone in his chambers, Darcy set himself to determine what best might be done about his feelings towards Elizabeth; he lay awake for an hour or more, pondering and weighing the possibilities, but in the end, all he could resolve on was that it still must depend upon her; if he could not convince her of his amendment, nothing would have changed between them. That must be the key and primary goal; unless and until he could lessen her disapprobation, there obviously could be no approval forthcoming.
In the morning, he dressed and wandered about, impatiently awaiting the arrival of his friends; he very much wanted to tell Georgiana of Elizabeth’s being in the neighbourhood. He was certain that Georgiana’s perfectly gentle manners and her good sense would make a favourable impression, and Georgiana was sure to like Elizabeth; should they take to one another, what effect might that not have on the future? He allowed his imagination to roam through many pleasing byways, at the prospects conjured up by this notion.
While he thus pondered an illusory future, he walked the grounds around the house, and was pleased to observe that the effects of Sayers’ hand could be seen in the rock borders and pathways. The morning was fine: still and cool, and the dew yet to burn off the lawn and low-lying fronds; he spent the hours awaiting his sister’s arrival in various minor activities about the manor and checking with the servants on how things stood about the house and estate. At length, the several carriages were to be seen descending the hill across the valley. Darcy went round to the front of the house to greet them, and to welcome every one into the house. An early breakfast had been prepared, so after a brief interval for them to find their chambers and refresh themselves, they all gathered in the breakfast-room. Every one was in good spirits, and set into the meal with energy.
“What a beautiful country is this, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Hartsbury enthused. “All the way from Matlock, the views just got better and better. I cannot imagine a more picturesque locality, you know—unless one went to the Alps, or the fjords of Scandinavia, or the great Sahara of Egypt; but, of course, I mean here in England.”
Pender smiled at her, and said, “Have you ever seen any of the drawings of Robert Hooke, or Anton van Leeuwenhoek? They have shown that it is possible to find great beauty in the smallest of things: in the wings of a butterfly, or in a drop of water.”
“I have not, I regret,” owned Miss Hartsbury, “but one could hardly call beauty on such a scale as that picturesque, could one? —pretty, perhaps, but surely lacking in grandeur.”
“Which is grander,” replied Pender, “the mouse or the elephant? They are both miraculous creatures.”
“Yes, but one is much bigger,” said Miss Hartsbury simply.
Darcy supplied, “I believe she has you there, Pender, as both the terms “grand” and “grandeur” are derived from the Latin grandis, meaning large, or tall.”
Pender sighed and turned to Georgiana. “Could I trouble you for the honey, my dear? —the world, it seems, is turned against me, and I need something to sweeten my morning. Or, perhaps I ought to refer to it in the Latin, as mel, or in the Greek, as μέλι, which is the more mellifluous.” Darcy smiled and bowed in his chair to his former tutor, in recognition of how neatly and easily he had turned the tables on him.
Breakfast being over, Darcy singled his sister out of the company, taking her round to the north terrace; there he told her of his meeting with Elizabeth the day before, and his seeking an introduction for her; while he did his best to remain calm during this communication, Georgiana’s delight an
d elation made it unnecessary.
“I can truly meet her?” Georgiana asked excitedly; her eyes alight at the thought of the introduction; but they immediately fell: “What if she should dislike me?” she asked plaintively.
Darcy reassured her: “She is a lady of sense and taste; she cannot help but like you: indeed, whom have you ever met who did not like you, Dearest? You are a far better person than I, and are far better received on first acquaintance—and on the second—and the third, too, for that matter.”
Georgiana smiled fleetingly at what she took to be his teazing, but her face remained apprehensive. “But she might not,” she worried, “and what if her dislike of me should reflect on you?”
“You may trust me on that point: that could never happen,” said he with perfect sincerity. “In fact, I confidently expect the exact opposite.”
Georgiana looked at him doubtfully, unsure if he were teazing again. He nodded assuringly to convince her he was in earnest, then asked: “When should you like to go? I imagine you are too fatigued at present?”
“Now?” Georgiana said. “Yes, I could go now, certainly. But what of our guests?”
“I have given thought to that already,” Darcy replied eagerly, “and now might be the best time, in fact; we could go while every one was settling and taking their ease. We should never be missed.”
Accordingly, after seeing to their guests and making certain that they were comfortable, Georgiana quickly went to her rooms to change into fresh clothes while Darcy saw to getting the carriage ready; standing in the stables, watching the groom hitch the horse to the curricle, steps from behind him made him turn: he saw Bingley coming up to him. “Are you off, Darcy?” his friend asked. “I saw you from my rooms.”
Darcy answered cheerfully, “Indeed I am: Georgiana and I are for Lambton, to pay a brief call—on Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, here in Derbyshire! But that is admirable!” Bingley cried, “Does she expect you? Do you suppose I might go along with you?”
“No, and yes,” answered Darcy. “We are going unannounced, although she has said she would be pleased to meet Georgiana; I cannot but imagine she would be happy to see you, too.” Of course, Bingley’s presence would remind Elizabeth of her sister, and he could not help but remember that, by taking the blame for Bingley’s behaviour upon himself in his letter, he had given Elizabeth that much more reason to dislike him; this could not be altered, however—he could only try to atone for it. To Bingley he said, “I know my sister is eager to be off, so we shall not wait for you, but follow as soon as may be.”
“I shall!” Bingley said, hurrying back towards the house to change. “I shall be less than a quarter hour behind you.”
Georgiana appearing very shortly thereafter, and the curricle being ready, they were on their way to Lambton.
On the ride to town Georgiana was exceedingly animated: “Oh, Fitzwilliam!” she said, “I am so happy to be meeting her! Only tell me you are sure: she will like me, will not she?”
“I am,” said he. “I have never been so certain of a thing in my life. On rare occasions only are the heart and mind in accord, but this is one such: both are telling me it shall all be well.” Georgiana showed him a happy smile, but a something of doubt lingered behind her eyes.
As they arrived, Darcy jumped down and Georgiana asked, “Fitzwilliam, is my appearance as it should be?”
“Yes,” he replied briefly, as he hurried round to hand her down. In hushed accents, Georgiana exclaimed: “Fitzwilliam, please! —you did not even look!”
With an eager impatience to be going in, Darcy told her: “I saw you at home; how much could have changed?” Relenting instantly, however, he inspected his sister’s dress and features attentively. “One stray lock in back, on the left.” Georgiana tucked up the offending tress as they entered; Darcy asked that word be sent up of their arrival, and very shortly they were ushered into the Gardiner’s apartments; somewhere between the ground floor and the first floor landing, however, Georgiana transformed once again into the shy and silent young lady she appeared as in public.
The Gardiners apartments were spacious, with a well-appointed sitting-room at their disposal. Darcy gave the Gardiners and Elizabeth his compliments, then said, “Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, may I introduce my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy?”
The Gardiners offered their compliments to both himself and his sister; he then watched with great attention as Georgiana turned to Elizabeth, and was pleased to see that she seemed ready to receive Georgiana with an open manner, in spite of her disapprobation of him.
“Miss Darcy, I am so very pleased to meet you,” said Elizabeth. “Every one of my acquaintance to whom you are known speaks very highly of you.”
Georgiana curtseyed shyly, but with perfectly good form, saying, “You are too kind, I am sure. My brother has mentioned you in the highest of terms.”
Elizabeth smiled at her and, stepping around to her side, escorted her some few steps away from the other three. Trusting to Georgiana’s powers of pleasing, Darcy left them to themselves according to his intentions, and turned his attentions to his hosts. “I hope, Mrs. Gardiner, you have found your acquaintances well?”
“Quite well, I thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she replied. “We have been enjoying ourselves immensely; I have always loved Lambton: some of my favourite memories stem from my time here.”
Mr. Gardiner smiled affectionately at his wife, adding: “I can scarcely prevail upon her to be still long enough to catch her breath, before she is off again in search of another old friend.”
“That is as testament to her amiability, surely,” said Darcy with a slight bow in her direction. “For friendship to have lasted for years unregenerate, it must have been deep indeed before its suspension.” Mrs. Gardiner bowed her head in return for this compliment, and to Darcy it seemed that she was genuinely pleased.
He next turned to Mr. Gardiner and said, “I was thinking of a scheme for a fishing-party to-morrow, Mr. Gardiner; if you care to take part in it, we should be delighted to have you with us.”
“That would give me very great pleasure,” answered Mr. Gardiner with enthusiasm. “What time were you planning to start?”
“We shall breakfast early, and begin shortly after,” answered Darcy. “Say, about nine o’clock?”
At this point, Mr. Gardiner first thought to look to his wife for her concurrence; she, however, smiled encouragingly, and the plan was set. Whilst Mr. Gardiner and Darcy spoke of the more arcane details of angling some few moments more, Mrs. Gardiner joined the other ladies’ discussion. Before long, Darcy, remembering Bingley’s intention of joining them, interrupted them to say: “Miss Bennet, forgive me: I should have mentioned earlier, but Mr. Bingley is also coming to wait upon you; seeing us preparing to leave, he expressed a keen desire to see you himself. I trust this will not inconvenience you?”
“Not at all, Mr. Darcy,” was her reply. “I should be very happy to see him. How long do you and your party intend to be in the country, might I ask?”
Before Darcy could answer, Bingley’s briskly ascending steps were heard upon the staircase. His face appeared in the doorway and he knocked on the door-frame to announce himself, wearing that grin which Darcy had been missing in his friend. While the introductions were being made, Darcy had his first real opportunity to observe Elizabeth; he had not been wrong the day prior: she did indeed look lovelier than she had in Kent. So far he had had small chance to observe her with Georgiana, but what little he had seen was encouraging: Georgiana was, of course, her quiet self, but her open countenance and her good sense were on display, and Darcy was in no doubt that she was making a good impression on Elizabeth; on the other side, Darcy had no qualms as to how Georgiana would find Elizabeth—her wit and sense of humour, her good heart and good breeding, would win any one over, let alone one so predisposed in her favour as Georgiana. As Elizabeth turned her attentions to Bingley, Georgiana came to her brother’s si
de, and her excited clasp on his arm confirmed what he had suspected: she was very taken with Elizabeth; he smiled down into her eager face and gave her a private wink.
Darcy was very well pleased with the proceedings generally, and with Elizabeth’s looks of pleasure in particular; she appeared quite eager to be agreeable to all, although Darcy was unsure how to read her temper towards himself; but in general, certainly, she seemed anxious to please. At least she did not avoid his presence to-day as she had done the day before, and on those few occasions in which she joined in the conversation going forward on his side of the room, she seemed to do so with every appearance of pleasure.
Once or twice he even caught sight of her looking his way, and not with disgust or discomposure, he thought. Plus, her ready acknowledgement of, and cordial discourse with Bingley, suggested to Darcy that she had read his letter with a degree of belief—some degree at least of acceptance and credence—else she would have been far less agreeable to the man who had disappointed her sister. What this might mean regarding her disposition towards himself he could not be sure, but it gave him reason to hope that she might at some future time come to look at him with less revulsion. His spirits rising, he joined in the discussions very happily. He soon found, however, that the Gardiners and their niece were invited to have dinner with some of Mrs. Gardiner’s old friends not long hence, and he felt the necessity of their taking leave—but not before he had made them an invitation of his own; said he to Georgiana: “Would it not be a pleasure to have the Gardiners and Miss Bennet join us to dinner, Miss Darcy?”
Georgiana looked surprised at this, and faltered briefly; but, recognizing in her brother’s suggestion another attempt to reinforce her standing as mistress of Pemberley, she agreed, saying, “Indeed; that would be delightful. May we ask you to join us Thursday evening, Mrs. Gardiner?”
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