by Eliza Gordon
Elizabeth 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 all the house that was open to general inspection had been seen, they returned downstairs. Taking leave of the housekeeper were consigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall-door.
As they walked across the hall towards the river, Elizabeth turned back to look again.
Her uncle and aunt stopped also. While the former was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himself suddenly came forward from the road.
They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his appearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes met, and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest blush.
He started, and for a moment seemed immoveable from surprise. Recovering himself, he advanced towards the party. He spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.
She had instinctively turned away but stopped on his approach. She received his compliments with an embarrassment impossible to overcome.
Had his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture they had just been examining, been insufficient to assure the other two 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 niece, who, astonished and confused, scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face. Amazed at the alteration of his manner since they last parted, with every sentence he uttered her embarrassment increased. Every idea of the impropriety of her being found there recurring to her mind. The few minutes in which they conversed were some of the most uncomfortable in her life.
Nor did he seem much more at ease. When he spoke, his accent had none of its usual sedateness. He repeated his inquiries as to the time of her having left Longbourn, and of her having stayed 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. After standing a few moments without saying a word, he recollected himself and took leave.
The others then joined her and expressed admiration of his figure.
Elizabeth heard not a word, and wholly engrossed by her feelings, followed them in silence. Shame and vexation overpowered her. Her coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the world!
How strange it must appear to him! In what a disgraceful light might it not strike so vain a man!
It might seem as if she had purposely thrown herself in his way again! Oh! Why did she come? Or, why did he thus come a day before he was expected? Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination. It was plain that he was that moment arrived—that moment alighted from his horse or his carriage.
She blushed again and again over the perverseness of the meeting. And his behaviour, so strikingly altered—what could it mean? That he should even speak to her was amazing—but to speak with such civility, to inquire after her family.
Never had she seen his manners so dignified, never had he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting. What a contrast did it offer to his last address in Rosings Park, when he put his letter into her hand. She knew not what to think, or how to account for it.
They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water. Every step brought 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. 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, 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 had not seen her with composure.
At length, 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. 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. They pursued the accustomed circuit, which brought them again 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. 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.
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. Elizabeth was obliged to submit. They made their way towards the house on the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction.
Their progress was slow. Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to indulge the taste, was very fond of fishing. He 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 by the sight of Mr. Darcy approaching them, and at no great distance. Elizabeth's astonishment was quite equal to what it had been at first. The walk here being here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him before they met.
However astonished, Elizabeth was more prepared for an interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with calmness if he 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. To imitate his politeness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place. She had not got beyond the words "delightful," and "charming," when some unlucky recollections obtruded. She fancied that praise of Pemberley from her might be mischievously construed. Her colour changed, and she said no more.
On her pausing, he asked her if she would do him the honour of introducing him to her friends. She was quite unprepared for this stroke of civility. She could hardly suppress a smile at his seeking the acquaintance 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.
Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind. The introduction was immediately made.
As she named their relationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore it. She expected his decamping as fast as he could from such disgraceful companions.
That he was surprised by the connection was evident. He sustained it 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 to all that passed between them. Thankful for every expression and sentence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence, his taste, or his good manners.
The conversation soon turned upon fishing. She heard Mr. Darcy invite him to fish there as often as he chose while he conti
nued in the neighbourhood. With the greatest civility, offering at the same time to supply fishing tackle. A short time later pointing out those parts of the stream where there was usually most sport.
Mrs. Gardiner, who was walking arm-in-arm with her niece, gave her a look expressive of wonder. Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly. The compliment must be all for herself. Her astonishment was extreme, and she wondered why he was so altered, and 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.
For some time they walked, the two ladies in front, the two gentlemen behind. They descended to the brink of the river for the better inspection of some curious water-plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. Fatigued by the exercise of the morning, Mrs. Gardiner found Elizabeth's arm inadequate and so preferred her husband's to support her.
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. "Your housekeeper informed us that you would not be here till tomorrow. Indeed, before we left Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately expected in the country."
He acknowledged the truth of it. Business with his steward had occasioned his coming forward before the rest of the party with whom he had been travelling. "They will join me early tomorrow. 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 driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's name had been the last mentioned between them. If she might judge by his complexion, his mind was not differently engaged.
"There is also one other person in the party who more particularly wishes to know to you," he continued after a pause. "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. It was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made him think 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.
They stood together on the lawn.
At such a time much might have been said, and the 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 tete-a-tete was over.
On Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's coming up they were all pressed to go into the house and take some refreshment. This was declined, and they parted on each side with utmost politeness. Mr. Darcy handed the ladies into the carriage. When it drove off, Elizabeth saw him walking slowly towards the house.
The observations of her uncle and aunt now began. 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, but it is confined to his air, and is becoming," replied her aunt. "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, he is not so handsome as Wickham, or rather, he has not Wickham's countenance, for his features are perfectly good," said her aunt. "But how came you to tell me that he was so disagreeable?"
Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could. She 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. Thus I will not take him at his word, as he might change his mind, and warn me off his grounds."
Elizabeth felt that they had entirely misunderstood his character, but said nothing.
"I should not have thought that Darcy could have behaved in so cruel a way as he has done by poor Wickham," continued Mrs. Gardiner. "Not from what we have seen of him. He has not an ill-natured look. On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when he speaks. 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 called on to say something in vindication of his behaviour to Wickham. In as guarded a manner as she could, she gave them to understand that she had heard in Kent, his actions were capable of a very different construction. 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 details 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.
As they were now approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave way to the charm of recollection. 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. 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. 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.
It was settled. Mr. Darcy would bring his sister to visit and he did on the earliest opportunity.
Chapter 41
They were just returning to the inn to dress for dining when the sound of a carriage drew them to a window. They saw a gentleman and a lady in a curricle driving up the street.
Immediately recognising the livery, Elizabeth imparted no small degree of her surprise to her relations. Acquainting them with the honour which she expected. Her uncle and aunt were all amazement. The embarrassment of her manner as she spoke, joined to the circumstance itself, and many of the circumstances of the preceding day.
The perturbation of Elizabeth's feelings was at every moment increasing.
She was quite amazed at her own discomposure. Amongst other causes of disquiet, she dreaded lest the partiality of the brother should have said too much in her favour. More than commonly anxious to please, she suspected that every power of pleasing would fail her.
She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen. As she walked up and down the room, endeavouring to compose herself, saw such looks of inquiring surprise in her uncle and aunt as made everything worse.
Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, and this formidable introduction took place.
With astonishment, Elizabeth saw 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. 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. 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. Her manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle. Having expected to find as acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been, Elizabeth 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. She had barely time to express her satisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Bingley's quick step was heard on the stairs. In a moment he entered the room. All Elizabeth's anger against him had been long done away. Had she still felt any anger, it could hardly have stood its ground against the unaffected cordiality with which he expressed himself on seeing her again. He inquired in a friendly, though 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.
Elizabeth wanted to ascertain the feelings of each of her visitors. She wanted to compose her own, and to make herself agreeable to all. 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. 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. Once or twice pleased herself with the notion that, as he looked at her, he was trying to trace a resemblance. Though this might be imaginary.
With regard 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 romance. On this point, Elizabeth was soon satisfied.
Two or three little circumstances occurred before they parted, which Elizabeth interpreted as a recollection of Jane by Bingley tinctured by tenderness. At a moment when the others were talking together, he observed that it "was a very long time since he had had the pleasure of seeing her." His tone hinted something of regret. 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."