by Jane Austen
Mrs. Bennet also repined at the perverse turn of events, exacerbated by Mr. Bennet’s refusal to take them all to Brighton. “A little sea-bathing would set me up forever,” she exclaimed.
Elizabeth felt ashamed of her mother and sisters and was newly sensible of the justice of Mr. Darcy’s objections to her family.
Whilst all this was taking place, Lydia’s prospects suddenly brightened when she received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the Colonel of the regiment, to accompany them to Brighton. At this news, the wild exuberance of Lydia, the delight of their mother, and the agony of Kitty were scarcely to be described.
Elizabeth was so concerned about the danger of Lydia being let loose with hundreds of toms on the beaches of Brighton that she determined to caution her father against letting her go.
“Lydia will never be happy until she has exposed herself in some public place or other,” said her father. “We’ll have no peace at Longbourn unless she goes.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “If you, my dear father, will not take the trouble of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her life, her character will be fixed, and she will, at sixteen (an old maid in human years, I might add), be the silliest feline fatale that ever made herself or her family ridiculous.”
“At Brighton she will be of less importance even as a common cat than she has been here,” replied her father. “At any rate, she cannot grow many degrees worse, without authorizing us to board her for the rest of her life.”
In Lydia’s imagination, the dazzling prospect of Brighton afforded every possibility of earthly pleasure . . . she saw the beaches crowded with sleek, handsome toms (shaking their back paws when a wave accidentally reached them). She saw all the glories of the camp and, to complete the view, she saw herself the center of attention, cavorting with at least six toms at once.
Before Lydia left, Elizabeth saw Wickham for the last time. He came trotting in, expecting Elizabeth to roll on her back in ecstasy now that he’d lost Mary King, but Elizabeth was disgusted by his attentions and merely flicked her tail and turned away to stare at an invisible spot on the wall.
When the party broke up, Lydia returned with Mrs. Forster to Meryton in preparation to start out for Brighton the next day. The unfortunate Kitty wailed inconsolably on the parting, which was generally so noisy that Lydia failed to hear the more gentle mews of her two older sisters.
On the very last day of the regiment’s remaining in Meryton, [Wickham] dined with others of the officers, at Longbourn; and so little was Elizabeth disposed to part from him in good humour, that on his making some enquiry as to the manner in which her time had passed at Hunsford, she mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliam’s and Mr. Darcy’s having both spent three weeks at Rosings, and asked him if he were acquainted with the former.
Photo by Annelise Bell
It’s not fair; I want to go to Brighton, too!
He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed; but with a moment’s recollection and a returning smile, replied, that he had formerly seen him often; and after observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man, asked her how she had liked him. Her answer was warmly in his favour. With an air of indifference he soon afterwards added, “How long did you say that he was at Rosings?”
“Nearly three weeks.”
“And you saw him frequently?”
“Yes, almost every day.”
“His manners are very different from his cousin’s.”
“Yes, very different. But I think Mr. Darcy improves upon acquaintance.”
“Indeed!” cried Mr. Wickham with a look which did not escape her. “And pray, may I ask?” but checking himself, he added in a gayer tone, “Is it in address that he improves? Has he deigned to add ought of civility to his ordinary style? for I dare not hope,” he continued in a lower and more serious tone, “that he is improved in essentials.”
“Oh, no!” said Elizabeth. “In essentials, I believe, he is very much what he ever was.”
While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether to rejoice over her words, or to distrust their meaning.
ELIZABETH KNEW THERE was nothing Mr. Bennet (or indeed anyone) could do to enlarge the mind of poor Mrs. Bennet. But Elizabeth earnestly regretted that her father had not preserved the respectability of his daughters and endeavored to check Lydia’s wild animal spirits. The impudent behavior of Lydia, Kitty, and Mrs. Bennet must expose the entire family to censure and ridicule and materially damage Elizabeth and Jane’s chances of making a good match. However, Lizzy was not disposed to dwell on gloomy prognostications, so she bent her thoughts towards the tour of the lakes with her aunt and uncle.
Lydia had promised to write often, but her letters were infrequent and communicated little aside from a careless claw mark or a hastily nibbled page. And although Kitty appeared to have fuller intelligence, she always carried her letters upstairs in her mouth and chewed over their contents under her bed.
As the time approached for Aunt and Uncle Gardiner to arrive, Elizabeth received a letter from her aunt informing her that they would not have time to tour the lakes, and must content themselves with only exploring the beauties of Derbyshire. Mrs. Gardiner was particularly looking forward to visiting the town of Lambton, where she had grown up as a kitten.
Elizabeth could not hear of Derbyshire without thinking of Pemberley, Mr. Darcy’s magnificent estate. But surely, she thought, I may venture into the county and rob it of a few spiders without drawing his notice.
Kitty carried her letters upstairs in her mouth and chewed over their contents under her bed.
The Gardiners soon arrived with their four kittens, who were to stay at Longbourn while Elizabeth and her aunt and uncle set off on their pleasure trip.
Over the next week or two, the travelers passed through many remarkable towns, most notably Kennelworth (just the place, thought Elizabeth, to send Lydia if she misbehaved at Brighton).
As they neared the home of Mrs. Gardiner’s kittenhood, Elizabeth learned that Pemberley was but five miles away.
“I would so like to visit Pemberley, of all things,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “You, too, my love,” she said to Elizabeth, “must be anxious to see a place you’ve heard talked of so much. Wickham passed all his youth there.”
Elizabeth stared wide-eyed at her aunt. What should she do? She certainly had no business sniffing around Pemberley after what had passed between her and its master. Mr. Darcy might even pick up her scent! But after inquiring at the inn and learning that Darcy and his sister were not at Pemberley for the summer, she declared herself willing enough to visit the great estate.
To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.
Elizabeth ... 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 great houses; after going over so many, she really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains.
Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. “If it were merely a fine house richly furnished,” said she, “I should not care about it myself; but the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the country.”
VOLUME III
As THEY TURNED in at the lodge at Pemberley, Elizabeth jumped up on the carriage box to get a better view of the prospect before her. The woods were broad and lush; how she longed to get out for a good scratch in the dirt! But a moment later her attention was arrested by the house itself—a large, splendid dwelling on rising ground. She noticed with pleasure that the valleys, woods, and hills surrounding it were unspoiled by human improvement (or what humans call “improvement”). All was artless and natural. At that moment Elizabeth could not help reflecting that to be mistress of Pemberley would really be something!
The housekeeper was a respectable elderly cat who invited them in and gave them a tour of the house, which, Elizabeth noted with admiration, had more elegance and less ostentatious splendor than Rosings. Even the scratching posts showed more real taste (and also
more use) than those at Rosings. Elizabeth supposed that was because Lady Cat preferred to use Charlotte Lucas, or whoever else might be at hand, to sharpen her claws on.
Her aunt called Elizabeth to look at a picture. Elizabeth approached and saw a handsome likeness of the whiskered Wickham.
“Ah,” said the housekeeper, “that is Mr. Wickham, the son of my late master’s top mouser. He is now gone into the army,” she added. “But I am afraid he has turned out very wild.”
I am afraid he has turned out very wild.
In contrast, the housekeeper purred audibly when she described Mr. Darcy’s virtues—his generosity with cats of lesser territory, his affection for his sister, and his kindness to every cat in his employ. This was praise indeed and placed him in a very amiable light.
“This account of Mr. Darcy,” her aunt whispered to her, “is not consistent with his behavior to poor Wickham.”
“Perhaps we may have been deceived,” replied Elizabeth.
The housekeeper pointed out with pride a window perch that Mr. Darcy had fitted up especially for his sister. And in the picture gallery, Elizabeth beheld a portrait of Mr. Darcy and gazed up at the handsome face in earnest contemplation. She had never felt so warmly towards the original as she did at that moment. Whether it was the catnip the housekeeper offered the guests that made her roll on the carpet, or the gratitude she felt when she thought of Mr. Darcy’s former regard for her, she could not tell.
When they had looked over the house, Elizabeth and the Gardiners slipped out the back door to explore the grounds. They were ambling across the broad lawn towards the river, when the master himself appeared not twenty yards away.
For a moment both Elizabeth and Darcy stood perfectly still, staring at each other. Darcy blinked first. Then, much to Elizabeth’s surprise, he greeted her and made himself most agreeable. His manner, his meows, even his arrogance seemed to have softened since their encounter at Hunsford. Elizabeth hardly knew what to attribute it to! He asked to be introduced to her aunt and uncle and they touched noses very graciously. Was this really the same Mr. Darcy who had asked for her paw in marriage with so little civility and so much insolent pride?
What can it mean? wondered Elizabeth. Is it possible that he should still love me?
Mr. Darcy trotted along beside her as they explored the grounds. He told Elizabeth of the Bingleys’ and Georgiana’s expected arrival at Pemberley the next day. He wished particularly to have the honor of introducing her to his sister.
They stood together on the lawn, waiting for Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle who were walking more slowly (Mr. Gardiner having stopped, at Mr. Darcy’s invitation, to snag a small fish in the pond). The silence becoming awkward, Elizabeth talked of Cheshire and Kennelworth, of catching moles and chasing squirrels.
The visit ended with the utmost cordiality and a lively curiosity on Elizabeth’s side to meet the sister of whom she had heard so much.
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—and she beheld a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy, with such a smile over the face, as she remembered to have some times 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 in 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 bestow!—how much of good or evil must be done by him!
Mr. Darcy, with such a smile as she remembered to have sometimes seen when he looked at her.
MR. DARCY AND his sister, Georgiana, visited Elizabeth at the inn the very next day. Elizabeth was at first so discomposed by the sound of the curricle driving up the street that she began energetically scratching a table leg. But immediately recollecting herself, she arranged herself with her front paws neatly together and greeted their visitors with composure.
Mr. Darcy and his sister calling so promptly after Georgiana’s arrival at Pemberley, and Elizabeth’s initial discomfiture, gave rise in Mr. and Mrs. Gardiners’ minds to very new ideas. There was no other explanation for such attentions but that Mr. Darcy was attached to their niece.
Introductions were made. To Elizabeth’s surprise, Miss Darcy was not proud as she had heard, but merely shy, for she hid under the sofa almost immediately and peeked out only when she was sure that no one was looking. When her brother did finally coax her out, Elizabeth found her to be of a very sweet and gentle disposition.
Shortly afterward, Mr. Bingley entered the room. He appeared overjoyed at meeting Elizabeth again and scarcely seemed able to refrain from leaping straight up into the air. He asked eagerly after her family, and recalled with real regret how long it had been since he had procured the splendid ball at Netherfield, and watching him, Elizabeth fancied he was remembering the happy times he had spent rolling it around the room with Jane.
Miss Darcy peeked out only when she saw that no one was looking.
Mr. Darcy looked highly gratified while all this was going on, and Elizabeth was newly astonished by his chirrups and soft blinks in contrast to his haughty demeanor at Netherfield and Rosings. When Elizabeth accepted his sister’s invitation to dine at Pemberley, he actually rubbed up against a table leg, purring.
That night, Elizabeth paced around her bedroom trying to understand her feelings for Mr. Darcy. That, after she had rejected his proposal so disdainfully, he was now bent on making himself gracious and agreeable, must be attributed to love, ardent love! Every female cat in the kingdom was scratching at his door (with the exception of Anne de Bourgh, who would have scratched better than anyone if she had not been so sickly), and yet he was bent on pleasing her. These conjectures chased sleep—and a few frightened mice—entirely away.
He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only were concerned, 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, it must be attributed; and as such its impression on her was of a sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not be exactly defined. 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, and how far it would be for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which her fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on the renewal of his addresses.
What do you mean, there’s no such book as Purr and Petulance? I heard it was a classic.
ELIZABETH AND HER aunt and uncle had formed a plan of calling on Miss Darcy the following morning. Upon scampering out of the carriage, Elizabeth could not help wondering how her appearance at Pemberley would be received by Caroline Bingley, whose dislike of her was surely founded on jealousy.
But even Elizabeth could not have anticipated the reaction of the female cats sitting in the saloon, with its magnificent views of woods and hills. Miss Darcy immediately disappeared behind a chair, while Caroline arched her back and actually spit at Elizabeth. With some prompting from Mrs. Annesley, the cat who Georgiana had lived with when in town, she ventured out and offered her guests wet and dry food in a gracious, though retiring, manner.
Caroline Bingley continued to glare at Elizabeth and h
issed at her if she happened to draw too close. After Mr. Darcy joined them, she actually took a swipe at her rival by venturing a snide comment regarding Wickham’s militia leaving Meryton.
“That must have been a great loss to your family,” snarled Miss Bingley, hoping to discompose Elizabeth. The maneuver did not succeed, however, and Elizabeth’s composure in repelling the attack seemed to give Mr. Darcy fresh satisfaction, for he gazed at her deeply and blinked softly as if they were the only two cats in the room. This provoked Caroline sorely. As soon as the guests had departed, she began abusing Elizabeth behind her back.
Miss Bingley took a swipe at her rival.
“How thin and sickly Eliza Bennet looked this morning,” she said. “Her fur was all matted and did you see her paw pads when she leapt on the couch? So rough and coarse!”
“Not surprising,” commented Mr. Darcy, “considering she’s a great walker.”
“For my own part,” continued Miss Bingley, “I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her. Her coat is not at all brilliant, her teeth are full of tartar, and her eyes, which have been called so fine, have a sharp, shrewish look. In her air altogether there is a kind of sneakiness that gives cats a bad name.”
Mr. Darcy remained silent.
Caroline ought to have remained silent herself, but her jealousy made her reckless. She went on, “I particularly recollect your saying one night, Mr. Darcy, after the Bennets had been dining at Netherfield, ‘She? A beauty?!—I should as soon call her mother a purebred!’”
“Yes,” Mr. Darcy hissed sharply, “but that was only when I first saw her, for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest cats in the country.”