Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition)

by Annabella Bloom

  Whatever can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There is nothing he would not do for her. When he marries, I imagine he will dote on his bride with as much care. She will indeed be a lucky woman.”

  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, but Elizabeth knew little of the art beyond its being very fine and she willingly turned to look at some of Miss Darcy’s crayon drawings, whose subjects were more interesting and more intelligible.

  In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they had 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 — and 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 certainly 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. Though she tried to resist them, the last of her defenses began to crack. From the first moment she saw him, she had felt something shift inside her chest. That first meeting had caused her world to spin and her body to float. If not for the events that followed, who knew what kind of journey her emotions would have taken.

  The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds was of no trifling nature, and the surety of it convinced her throughout the course of their tour that she was telling the truth. 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 bestow, how much of good or evil must be done by him. Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favorable to his character, and as she stood before the canvas on which he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon hers, she thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever risen before. She remembered its warmth, and that softened its impropriety of expression.

  When all of the house open to general inspection had been seen, they returned downstairs, and, 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, her uncle and aunt stopped while the former was conjecturing as to the date of the building. Elizabeth turned back to look again, fighting the sudden urge to run as fast and far as she could away from Pemberley. Emotions swirled inside her chest, not the least of which was doubt. Then, as if fate itself had come to mock her torment, the owner of Pemberley suddenly came forward from the road, which led behind the stables.

  They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his appearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest blush. He came to an abrupt stop, and for a moment seemed immovable from surprise. However, he shortly thereafter recovered himself and advanced towards the party.

  Elizabeth instinctively turned away, considering her options. Should she walk on as if she had not noticed him? Run away and deal with the impropriety of such an act later? Unsure, she took too long to decide.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy acknowledged, forcing her to face him. He spoke, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.

  She received him with an embarrassment impossible to be overcome. Astonished and confused, Elizabeth scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face. By way of an excuse as to her presence in his home, she said, “We are touring the house.”

  She looked at her aunt and uncle. They stood a little aloof while Darcy talked to their niece, affording her an unintentional privacy with the gentleman. Had his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture they had just examined, been insufficient to assure the other two who they now saw, the gardener’s expression of surprise on beholding his master immediately told it.

  Mr. Darcy turned, glancing at the estate before giving her his attention once more. “Would you like to see inside? I have recently acquired new paintings.”

  “We have already been,” she answered quickly. “The paintings were lovely.”

  The compliment, so automatically spoken, brought to mind the one painting that had captured her above the others — his. She blushed at the very thought.

  “Of course.” His hand lifted and then fell. “And how is your family?”

  “They are well, thank you. Lydia is away to Brighton with friends, but everyone else is home.”

  The few minutes in which they politely continued were some of the most uncomfortable in her life. Amazed at the alteration of his manner since they last parted, every sentence that he uttered was increasing her embarrassment, and every idea of the impropriety of her being found there recurred to her mind. Nor did he seem much more at ease. His words had none of their usual sedateness, and 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 to plainly reveal the distraction of his thoughts. At length every idea seemed to fail him.

  Ensuring her aunt and uncle had not come closer, she said softly, “I did not mean to impose upon your privacy. I was of the understanding you were away. My aunt and uncle.…” She could say no more, as he shook his head to stop her apology.

  He studied her and looked as if he would speak. However, after standing a few moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took leave. “Enjoy your trip, Miss Elizabeth.”

  She curtsied to his bow, and watched him stride away. The others then joined her, and expressed admiration of him. Elizabeth heard not a word, and wholly engrossed by her own feelings, followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and vexation. Her coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the world. How strange it must appear to him, her at his home after rejecting his proposal. In what a disgraceful light it painted her, for it might seem as if she had purposely thrown herself in his way again. Oh, why did he come home a day before he was expected? Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination, for it was plain he just arrived. She blushed over the perverseness of the meeting. And his behavior, 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 in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, never had he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting. What a contrast it offered 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.

  Darcy hurried through his home, having taken just enough time to greet his housekeeper and a few other servants before seeking the sanctuary of his library. Elizabeth, there, in his home! He could hardly account for his conversation with her, but suspected it had not been spoken eloquently on his side. She was the last person he had expected to see at Pemberley.

  What did it mean? Why had she come? He did not dare hope it had been out of a desire to see him. She looked quite out of sorts when he approached her, and for a moment Darcy thought she might actually run away from him. Then there was her tone. It was not as he had expected. It had been soft, gentle, apologetic. Had his letter had the desired effect? He often wondered since handing it to her if her thoughts towards him had changed. It took all his willpower not to ask her about it.

  Watching as his gardener led the guests toward the pathway around the fish pond, he resisted the urge to go after her. His feelings had not lessened and they were not to be trusted in her presence. He could not, would not, renew the sentiments that she had so decidedly rejected. Yet, he could not get her out of his mind. To have her so close, to have wit
hin his reach a possible hint as to what she now thought of him. Did she believe him? Had his letter vindicated himself to her? Had her feelings towards him softened into the romantic? He did not dare to hope for the latter, but once thought the idea would not leave him.

  He had to see her again. He had to know, if only by some small indication, that she believed him. Her opinion of him mattered, even if she would not have him. As he thought it, he knew that was not the only reason. He needed to see her again, needed to be near her if only for a moment. One laugh, one smile, one word he could take with him to remember. That was all he would ask of her, and even that he would ask in silence.

  Elizabeth took a deep, cleansing breath. They had entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and 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, 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. And, she daresay, she had been just as flustered to see him.

  At length her companions remarked on her absentmindedness and she felt it necessary to appear more like herself.

  They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while, ascended some of the higher grounds. In spots the opening of the trees gave the eye power to wander. There 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 to the edge of the water. They crossed it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene. Elizabeth longed to explore, but when they 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. Their progress towards the house was slow for Mr. Gardiner was very fond of fishing and was engaged in talking to the man about the occasional appearance of trout in the water that he advanced but little.

  While wandering in this slow manner, they were again surprised by the sight of Mr. Darcy approaching. Elizabeth’s astonishment was equal to what it had been the first time she encountered him that day. Though, however astonished, she was at least more prepared for a conversation than before and resolved to appear calm and to speak intelligently. For a few moments, she worried that he would strike into some other path as the walk concealed him from their view.

  She held her breath until he took a turn and came immediately before them. He had lost none of his recent civility, and to imitate his politeness she began to admire the beauty of the place. However, 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 color changed, and she said no more. She did not dare to imagine what he must think of her. His opinion of her family’s lack of propriety was still fresh in her mind. Now he must think she shared the same trait. He had made allowances for herself and Jane, but would he do so again after seeing how ineptly she spoke just now?

  Mrs. Gardiner stood a little behind and, as she paused, he asked if she would do him the honor of introducing him to her friends. This was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared. She could hardly suppress a smile at his seeking the acquaintance of some of those very people against whom his pride had revolted in his offer to herself.

  The introduction was immediately made and as she named their relationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him to see how he bore it. She expected him to decamp as fast as he could from such disgraceful companions. That he was surprised by the connection was evident, but he sustained it with fortitude. Joining them in their walk, he immediately entered into conversation with Mr. Gardiner. Pleased, Elizabeth found it consoling that he should meet some of her relations for whom there was no need to be embarrassed over.

  The conversation soon turned to fishing and she heard Mr. Darcy invite him to fish there as often as he chose while he continued in the neighborhood, 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 her astonishment was extreme.

  She could not help thinking, “Why is he so altered? It cannot be for my sake that his manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a change as this.” Then, almost trembling visibly at the thought, she whispered to herself, “It is impossible that he still loves me.”

  Mrs. Gardiner glanced at her in wonder, but Elizabeth did not repeat the words louder. After walking some time, her aunt, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found Elizabeth’s arm inadequate to support her, and consequently preferred her husband’s. Mr. Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on together.

  After a short silence, she said, “I wish you to know that I had been assured of your absence before we came here, and your housekeeper informed us that you would certainly not be here till tomorrow. I would not have intruded —”

  “I arrived early,” he said. “Business with my steward occasioned my coming ahead of the rest of my party — Mr. Bingley and his sisters included. They will join me early tomorrow.”

  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. 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 particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow me to introduce my sister during your stay at Lambton? Or do I ask too much?”

  The surprise of such a request was great indeed. Elizabeth nodded, barely managing to accede to the wish. “I would be honored.”

  Whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her must be the work of her brother, and, without looking too deeply at his words, it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made him think ill of her. They walked on in silence, each of them deep in thought. Elizabeth did not know what to say, though she was flattered and pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to her was a compliment of the highest kind. When they reached the carriage, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a mile behind.

  He invited her into the house to rest, but she declared herself not tired, and they stood together on the lawn. 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 traveling, and they talked of Matlock and Dovedale 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, Mr. Darcy offered refreshment. They declined and 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 began almost as once. Her uncle and aunt 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 behavior 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. 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. She said that she had liked him better when they had met in Kent, 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. Therefore I shall not take him at his word about the fishing, 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 am not sure 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 unfavorable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, the good lady who showed us his house did give him a most flattering character, I could hardly help laughing.”

  Elizabeth felt herself called on to say something in vindication of his behavior to Wickham. How could she stand by and allow him to be unjustly attacked because of the lies of another? Trusting her aunt and uncle, she 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 reliable.