CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
ELIZABETH HAD DETERMINED that Mr. Darcy would most likely bring his sister to visit her the 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. On the very morning after their arrival at Lambton, the visitors came. They were just returning to the inn from a walk to dress themselves for dining with some of their new friends, 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. Elizabeth immediately recognizing the livery, guessed what it meant, and imparted no small degree of her surprise to her relations by acquainting them with the honor which she expected. Her uncle and aunt were astonished. Elizabeth was quite amazed at her own discomposure and dreaded the partiality of Mr. Darcy should have said too much in her favor. Anxious to please, she naturally suspected that every power of pleasing would fail her.
She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen. Walking up and down the room, she endeavored to compose herself. The inquiring looks of her uncle and aunt made everything worse.
Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, and with astonishment Elizabeth saw that her new acquaintance was at least as 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.
Though little more than sixteen, Miss Darcy was taller than Elizabeth and had a womanly, graceful figure. She was less handsome than her brother, but there was sense and good humor 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. She instantly liked the girl.
They had not long been together before Mr. Darcy told her that Bingley was also coming to wait on her. She barely had time to express her satisfaction, and prepare, when Bingley’s quick step was heard on the stairs and 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 inquired in a friendly, though general way, after her family, and looked and spoke with the same good-humored ease that he had ever done.
To Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he was scarcely a less interesting personage for they had long wished to see him. Though, suspicions had begun to arise in them of Mr. Darcy and their niece. They directed their observation towards each with an earnest though guarded inquiry, and soon drew the full conviction that one of them knew what it was to be in love. Of the lady’s sensations they remained a little in doubt, but that the gentleman was overflowing with admiration was evident.
Elizabeth wanted to ascertain the feelings of each of her visitors, and she wanted to compose her own to make herself agreeable to all. In seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturally flew to her sister. Oh, how she longed to know whether his were directed in a like manner. Sometimes she fancied that he talked less than on former occasions, but, though this might be imaginary, she could not be deceived in his behavior to Miss Darcy, who had been set up as a rival to Jane. No look appeared on either side that spoke a particular regard, nothing occurred between them that could justify the hopes of his sister.
It was not often that she could turn her eyes on Mr. Darcy. Whenever she did catch a glimpse, she saw an expression of general complaisance, and in all that he said she heard an accent so removed from hauteur or disdain of his companions. When she saw him thus seeking the acquaintance and courting the good opinion of people with whom any intercourse a few months ago would have been a disgrace — when she saw him thus civil, not only to herself, but to the very relations whom he had openly disdained, and recollected their last lively scene in Hunsford Parsonage — the difference was so great, and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she could hardly restrain her astonishment. Never, even in the company of his dear friends at Netherfield, or his dignified relations at Rosings, had she seen him so desirous to please, so free from self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now, when no importance could result from the success of his endeavors, when even the acquaintance of those to whom his attentions were addressed would draw down the ridicule and censure of the ladies both of Netherfield and Rosings.
Their visitors stayed with them above half-an-hour. When they arose to depart, Mr. Darcy called on his sister to join him in expressing their wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and Miss Elizabeth, to dinner at Pemberley, before they left the country. Miss Darcy, though with a diffidence which marked her little in the habit of giving invitations, readily obeyed. Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece, desirous of knowing how she, whom the invitation most concerned, felt disposed as to its acceptance, but Elizabeth had turned away her head. Presuming however, that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment than any dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond of society, a perfect willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage for her attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on.
Bingley expressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing Elizabeth again, having a great many inquiries to make after all their Hertfordshire friends. Elizabeth, construing all this into a wish of hearing her speak of her sister, was pleased. Eager to be alone, and fearful of inquiries or hints from her uncle and aunt, she stayed with them only long enough to hear their favorable opinion of Bingley, and then hurried away to dress.
But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s curiosity. They did not wish to force her communication. It was evident that she was much better acquainted with Mr. Darcy than they had before any idea of; it was evident that he was very much in love with her. They saw much to interest, but nothing to justify inquiry.
With respect to Wickham, the travelers soon found that he was not held in much estimation. For though the chief of his concerns with the son of his patron were imperfectly understood, it was a well-known fact that, on his quitting Derbyshire, he had left many debts behind him, which Mr. Darcy afterwards discharged.
As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more than the last; and the evening, though as it passed seemed long, was not long enough to determine her feelings towards one in that mansion. She lay awake two whole hours endeavoring to make them out. She certainly did not hate him. No, hatred had vanished long ago. She had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him. The respect created by the conviction of his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some time ceased to be repugnant to her feeling. It was now heightened into somewhat of a friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly in his favor, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, there was a motive within her of goodwill which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude — gratitude, not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection. She had convinced herself that he would avoid her as his greatest enemy. But on this accidental meeting, he appeared most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner. He was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent on making her known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so much pride excited not only astonishment but gratitude — for to love, ardent love, such a change must be attributed. She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him, she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself.
It had been settled in the evening between the aunt and the niece, that such a striking civility as Miss Darcy’s in coming to see them on the very day of her arrival at Pemberley, for she had reached it only t
o a late breakfast, ought to be imitated, though it could not be equaled, by some exertion of politeness on their side. Consequently, it would be highly expedient to wait on her at Pemberley the following morning. They were, therefore, to go. Elizabeth was pleased. Though, when she asked herself the reason, she had very little to say in reply.
Mr. Gardiner left them soon after breakfast. The fishing scheme had been renewed the day before, and a positive engagement made of his meeting some of the gentlemen at Pemberley before noon.
Convinced that Miss Bingley’s dislike of her had originated in jealousy, Elizabeth could not help feeling how unwelcome her appearance at Pemberley must be to her, and was curious to see how civil she would now be.
On reaching the house, they were shown through the hall into the saloon, whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows opening to the ground admitted a most refreshing view of the high woody hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts which were scattered over the intermediate lawn.
In this house they were received by Miss Darcy, who sat with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in London. Georgiana’s reception of them was very civil, but attended with all the embarrassment which, though proceeding from shyness and the fear of doing wrong, would easily give those who felt themselves inferior the belief of her being proud and reserved. Mrs. Gardiner and her niece, however, did her justice, and pitied her.
By Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley they were noticed only by a curtsey. On their being seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must always be, succeeded for a few moments. It was first broken by Mrs. Annesley, a genteel, agreeable-looking woman, whose endeavor to introduce some kind of discourse proved her to be more truly well-bred than either of the others. She spoke chiefly to Mrs. Gardiner, with occasional help from Elizabeth, the conversation was carried on. Miss Darcy looked as if she wished for courage enough to join in and sometimes did venture a short sentence when there was least danger of its being heard.
Elizabeth soon saw that she was herself closely watched by Miss Bingley, and that she could not speak a word, especially to Miss Darcy, without calling her attention. This observation would not have prevented her from trying to talk to the latter, had they not been seated at an inconvenient distance. She expected every moment that some of the gentlemen would enter the room, and she wished, she feared, that the master of the house might be amongst them. Whether she wished or feared it most, she could scarcely determine. After sitting in this manner a quarter of an hour without hearing Miss Bingley’s voice, Elizabeth was roused by receiving from her a cold inquiry after the health of her family. She answered with equal indifference and brevity, and the others said no more.
The next variation which their visit afforded was produced by the entrance of servants with cold meat, cake, and a variety of all the finest fruits in season. This did not take place till after many significant looks and a smile from Mrs. Annesley to Miss Darcy reminded the latter of her of her post. There was now employment for the whole party — for though they could not all talk, they could all eat. The beautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches soon collected them round the table.
While thus engaged, Elizabeth had a fair opportunity of deciding whether she most feared or wished for the appearance of Mr. Darcy by the feelings which prevailed on his entering the room. She began to regret that he came. He had been some time engaged by the river with Mr. Gardiner and two or three other gentlemen from the house. On learning that the ladies of the family intended a visit to Georgiana that morning, he had left them. No sooner did he appear than Elizabeth wisely resolved to be perfectly easy and unembarrassed — a necessary resolution to be made, but not the most easily kept. There was a wildness about him, from being outdoors. Wind had tousled his hair and ruffled the normally fine press of his clothing. It was not unattractive to say the least, for the look gave him the appearance of vitality and health; and when he walked near her, she smelled the fresh country air on his person.
She saw the suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them, and there was scarcely an eye which did not watch his behavior. In no curiosity was so strongly marked as in Miss Bingley’s, in spite of the smiles which overspread her face whenever she spoke, for jealousy had not yet made her desperate, and her attentions to Mr. Darcy were by no means over. Miss Darcy, on her brother’s entrance, exerted herself much more to talk. Elizabeth saw he was anxious for his sister and herself to get acquainted, and forwarded as much as possible, every attempt at conversation on either side.
Likewise, Miss Bingley saw this and, in the imprudence of anger, took the first opportunity of saying, with sneering civility, “Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the militia removed from Meryton? They must be a great loss to your family.”
In Darcy’s presence she dared not mention Wickham’s name, but Elizabeth instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in his thoughts. The various recollections connected with him gave her a moment’s distress, but exerting herself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, she presently answered the question in a tolerably detached tone. While she spoke, an involuntary glance showed her Darcy, with a heightened complexion, earnestly looking at her. Had Miss Bingley known what pain she was giving, she undoubtedly would have refrained from the hint. She had merely intended to discompose Elizabeth by bringing forward the idea of a man to whom she believed her partial, to make her betray a sensibility which might injure her in Darcy’s opinion, and, perhaps, to remind the latter of all the follies and absurdities by which some part of her family were connected with that corps. Not a syllable had ever reached her of Miss Darcy’s meditated elopement. To no creature had it been revealed, where secrecy was possible, except to Elizabeth.
As Miss Bingley, vexed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to Wickham, in time Georgiana also recovered her stunned senses, though not enough to be able to speak any more. Her brother, whose eye she feared to meet, scarcely recollected her interest in the affair, and the very circumstance which had been designed to turn his thoughts from Elizabeth seemed to have fixed them on her more and more cheerfully.
Their visit did not continue long after Miss Bingley’s question. While Mr. Darcy was attending them to their carriage Miss Bingley vented her feelings in criticisms on Elizabeth’s person, behavior, and dress. But Georgiana would not join her. Her brother’s recommendation was enough to ensure her favor, for his judgment could not err. And he had spoken in such terms of Elizabeth as to leave Georgiana without the power of finding her otherwise than lovely and amiable. When Darcy returned to the saloon, Miss Bingley could not help repeating to him some part of what she had been saying to his sister.
“How very ill Miss Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “I never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is since the winter. She is grown so brown and coarse.”
However little Mr. Darcy liked such an address, he contented himself with coolly replying that he perceived no other alteration than her being rather tanned, no miraculous consequence of traveling in the summer.
“For my own part,” she rejoined, “I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin, her complexion has no brilliancy, and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants character — there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way. As for her eyes, which have sometimes been called fine, I could never see anything extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like at all.”
Persuaded as Miss Bingley was that Darcy admired Elizabeth, this was not the best method of recommending herself. But angry people are not always wise and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all the success she expected. He was resolutely silent, however, and, from a determination of making him speak, she continued, “When we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty. I particularly recollect your saying one night, after they had b
een dining at Netherfield, that you did not find her so handsome. However, she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time.”
Darcy could contain himself no longer. “For many months, I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”
He then went away, and Miss Bingley was left to all the satisfaction of having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself.
CHAPTER FORTY
ELIZABETH WAS DISAPPOINTED in not finding a letter from Jane on their arrival at Lambton. This disappointment had been renewed on each of the mornings until the third when two letters arrived at one time, one of which was marked that it had been missent elsewhere. Elizabeth was not surprised, as Jane had written the direction remarkably ill.
They had just been preparing to walk as the letters came in. Her uncle and aunt, leaving her to enjoy them in quiet, set off by themselves. She attended to the missent one first, as it was five days old. The beginning contained an account of all their little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded; but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident agitation, gave more important intelligence.
Elizabeth read, “Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature. I am afraid of alarming you — be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. An express came at twelve last night from Colonel Forster, just as we were all gone to bed, to inform us that she has gone off to Scotland with one of his officers. To own the truth, with Wickham! Imagine our surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! But I am willing to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing. Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am I that we never let them know what has been said against him, and we must forget it ourselves. They were off Saturday night about twelve, but were not missed till yesterday morning at eight. The express was sent off directly. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his wife, informing her of their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor mother.”
Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition) Page 29