by Eliza Gordon
The rest of the evening passed with the appearance, on his side, of usual cheerfulness and no further attempt to distinguish Elizabeth. They parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again.
When the party broke up, Lydia returned with Mrs. Forster to Meryton, from whence they were to set out early the next morning.
Mrs. Bennet was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her daughter. Impressive in her injunctions that she should not miss the opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible. There was every reason to believe this advice would be well attended to.
Chapter 39
Elizabeth could not have formed a very good opinion of marital bliss or domestic comfort from observing her own family. She had never been blind to the impropriety of her father's behaviour as a husband. She had always seen it with pain and endeavoured to forget what could not be overlooked.
Respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment, she banished from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation and decorum which was so reprehensible, exposing his wife to the contempt of her children.
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 might have preserved the respectability of his daughters, even if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife.
When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham's departure, she found little cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties abroad were less varied than before. At home, a mother and sister threw a real gloom over their domestic circle by complaining of the dullness of everything around them.
Upon the whole, Elizabeth found that an event she had waiting for with impatient desire did not bring the hoped for satisfaction when it took place. It became necessary to have some other point on which to fix her wishes and hopes. By again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, she consoled herself for the present.
Her tour to the Lakes was now the object of her happiest thoughts. It was her best consolation for all the uncomfortable hours which her mother and Kitty made inevitable. Could she have included Jane in the scheme, every part of it would have been perfect.
When Lydia went away, she promised to write often and minutely to her mother and Kitty. But her letters were always long expected, and always very short.
Those to her mother contained little else than that they were just returned from the library. Such and such officers had attended them, and she had seen such beautiful ornaments as made her quite wild. That she had a new gown, or a new parasol, which she would have described more fully, but was obliged to leave off in a violent hurry, as Mrs. Forster called her, and they were going off to the camp. From her correspondence with her sister, there was still less to be learnt. For her letters to Kitty, though rather longer, were much too full of lines under the words to be made public.
After a few weeks of her absence, health, good humour, and cheerfulness began to reappear at Longbourn. Everything wore a happier aspect.
The families who had been in town for the winter came back again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose.
Mrs. Bennet was restored to her usual querulous serenity. By the middle of June, Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton without tears. An event of such happy promise as to make Elizabeth hope that by Christmas she might mention an officer not above once a day. Unless, by some cruel and malicious arrangement at the War Office, another regiment should be quartered in Meryton.
The time fixed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fast approaching. A letter arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its commencement and curtailed its extent.
Mr. Gardiner would be prevented by business from setting out till two weeks later in July and must be in London again within a month. 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.
According to the present plan, they were to go no farther northwards than Derbyshire. In that county, there was enough to see to occupy the chief of their three weeks. To Mrs. Gardiner, it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The town where she had passed some years of her youth was probably a great an object of her curiosity. They were now to spend a few days in that town as well as visiting celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth, Dovedale, or the Peak.
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 her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its owner. But she did not believe it inevitable that she would see Mr. Darcy in that short time.
The period of expectation was now doubled.
Four weeks were to pass away before her uncle and aunt's arrival. But they did pass, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, with their four children, did at length appear 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 Jane. She was the general favourite. Her sense and sweetness of temper exactly adapted for attending to them in every way—teaching them, playing with them, and loving them.
The Gardiners stayed only one night at Longbourn and set off the next morning with Elizabeth in pursuit of novelty and amusement. One enjoyment was certain that of the suitableness of companions.
Their route to Derbyshire passed through remarkable places Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, and Kenilworth.
After seeing all the principal wonders of the county, their final destination was the little town of Lambton. It was the location of Mrs. Gardiner's former home, and where she had lately learned some acquaintance remained.
Pemberley was situated within five miles of Lambton. Mrs. Gardiner expressed an inclination to see the place again. Mr. Gardiner declared his willingness, and Elizabeth was applied to for her approbation.
"My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard so much?" said her aunt. "A place with which so many of your acquaintances 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 seeing great houses. After going over so many, she had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains.
Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. "If it were merely a fine house richly furnished, 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 and thought it would be better to speak openly to her aunt than to run such a risk. But against this there were objections. She resolved that it could be the last resource after her private inquiries to the absence of the family.
Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid whether Pemberley was a very fine place. And the name of its proprietor. These questions she followed with an inquiry as to whether the family were down for the summer. A most welcome negative followed the last question—and her alarms now being removed.
When the subject was revived the next morning, Elizabeth answered with a proper air of indifference, that she had no objection. She was at leisure to feel a great deal of curiosity to see the house herself.
To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.
Chapter 40
As they drove along, Elizabeth watched for the first appearance of Pemberley Woods with some perturbation. When at length they turned in at the lodge, her spirits were in a
high flutter.
The park was huge and contained a 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. The eye was 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 swelled into a greater stretch of water, 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 warm in their admiration. 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 her apprehension 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. Elizabeth, had leisure to wonder at her being where she was as they waited for the housekeeper.
The housekeeper came. A respectable-looking elderly woman, much less fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. They followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well-proportioned room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth went to a window to enjoy its prospect.
The hill, crowned with wood, which they had descended was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good. 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. From every window there were beauties to be seen.
The rooms were lofty and handsome. The furniture suitable to the fortune of its proprietor. With admiration of his taste, Elizabeth saw that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine. With less of splendour, and more real elegance, than the furniture of Rosings.
And of this place, I might have been mistress, she thought. 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 my uncle and aunt as visitors. But no,—recollecting herself—that could never be. My uncle and aunt would have been lost to me. I should not have been allowed to invite them.
This was a lucky recollection—it saved her from something very like regret.
She longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master was absent, but had not the courage for it. At length, the question was asked by her uncle, and she turned away with alarm.
Mrs. Reynolds replied that he was, adding, "But we expect him tomorrow, with a large party of friends."
How rejoiced was Elizabeth that their 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 over the mantelpiece
Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how she liked it.
The housekeeper came forward and told them it was a picture of a young gentleman, the son of her late master's steward. "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, is my master—and very like him," said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures. "It was drawn at the same time as the other—about eight years ago."
"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 respect for Elizabeth seemed to increase on this intimation of her knowing her master.
"Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?"
Elizabeth coloured, and said: "A little."
"And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma'am?"
"Yes, very handsome."
"I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery, up stairs, you will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late master's favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to be then. He was very fond of them."
This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham's being among them.
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 Mrs. Gardiner.
"Oh! yes—the handsomest young lady that was ever 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."
Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were very easy and pleasant, encouraged her communicativeness by his questions and remarks.
Mrs. Reynolds, either by pride or attachment, evidently had great pleasure in talking of her master and his sister.
"Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?"
"Not so much as I could wish, sir. I dare say he may spend half his time here. And Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months."
Except, thought Elizabeth, when she goes to Ramsgate.
"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."
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled.
Elizabeth could not help saying, "It is very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so."
"I say no more than the truth, and everybody will say that knows him," replied the other.
Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far. She listened with increasing astonishment.
The housekeeper added, "I have never known a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old."
This was praise, of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to her ideas. That he was not a good-tempered man had been her firmest opinion. Her keenest attention was awakened; she longed to hear more.
Mr Gardiner said, "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 were to go through the world, I could not meet with a better. But 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."
Elizabeth almost stared at her. Can this be Mr. Darcy?
"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."
Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Mrs. Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subjects of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the furniture, in vain.
Highly amused Mr. Gardiner, soon led again to the subject of her master. And she dwelt with energy on his many merits as they proceeded together up the great staircase.
"He is the best landlord and the best master that ever lived," said she. "Unlike the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but 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."
In what an amiable light does this place him, Elizabeth thought.
"This fine account of him is not quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend," whispered her aunt as they walked.
"Perha
ps we might have been deceived."
"That is not very likely; our authority was too good."
On reaching the spacious lobby above they were shown into a very pretty sitting-room, fitted with greater elegance and lightness than the apartments below. They were informed that it was recently done to please Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to the room.
"He is certainly a good brother," said Elizabeth, as she walked towards one of the windows.
"And this is always the way with him," Mrs. Reynolds added. "Whatever can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There is nothing he would not do for her."
The picture-gallery, and two or three of the principal bedrooms were all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings. Elizabeth knew nothing of the art. She had turned to look at some drawings of Miss Darcy's, in crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and also more intelligible.
In the gallery, there were many family portraits, but they could have little to fix the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked in quest of the only face whose features would be known to her. At last, it arrested her, she beheld a striking resemblance to 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, and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery. Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father's lifetime.
There was at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle sensation towards the original than she had ever felt at 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, she considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship. How much of pleasure or pain was it in his power to award. How much of good or evil must be done by him? Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character.