Lessons of Advantage

by michael sand

  “I beg your pardon, Mrs Gardiner,” he added. “I hope I shall not be disturbing your arrangements.” He considered Mrs Gardiner a charming woman; she always appeared to take great interest in his discourse, and seemed struck by his views on child-rearing. (He was a bachelor.) But Mrs Gardiner understood the importunate nature of business; and fortunately, they were in such good time that a conference, “if not unnecessarily prolonged,” should not cause them to be late. “She believed that Mr Haggerston had not met her niece.”

  “So this is the young lady who has been putting us all to such labours!” said the attorney, turning to Lydia with a stiff, little half-bow. “Young ladies enjoy being the centre of attention, and I dare say this one will like to know how many clerks have been busy on her account.”

  “They may do it, if they like,” Lydia retorted with spirit. “I’m sure I never asked none of them to do so! What a horrid man that Mr Haggerston is,” she added, in a petulant voice, when the gentlemen had left them. “He’ll keep Mr Gardiner and Wickham for hours, once he starts talking. The music will all be over by the time we get there.” A sacred concert might not meet Lydia’s highest expectation of pleasure, but any outing was valuable to her. There were bound to be a great many ladies in the church, and she would have the opportunity to examine their dresses at length. In the event, the men’s business was not of long duration, and they soon emerged from Mr Gardiner’s study, Mr Haggerston looking satisfied, Mr Gardiner disquieted, and Wickham quite unruffled.

  It was evening when the Gardiners and their party returned to Gracechurch-street. Mr Gardiner said little while the teaboard was setting out, but Mr Wickham advanced a flow of observations in his usual easy style, to which Mrs Gardiner attempted to make some reply. A great many violent yawns, interspersed with expressions of — “Lor, I’m tired,” — were Lydia’s sole contribution to the conversation. When Mr and Mrs Gardiner at last found themselves alone, — Wickham having departed, and Lydia taken her yawns up to bed, — Mrs Gardiner inquired as to the nature of the business which had brought Mr Haggerston to the house. She knew that something was troubling her husband’s mind.

  Mr Gardiner groaned. “Wickham has been making an arrangement with his creditors to inflate the amount of his debts, with a view to dividing the difference. Haggerston has found it out, and thought I ought to know before he informed Mr Darcy’s man of business. I am mortified that Mr Darcy’s generosity should be abused by such double dealing after all he has done for us. It is most disagreeable.”

  “Disagreeable, indeed, — though I do not know why you should feel the mortification. I did not observe any sign of it in Mr Wickham.”

  “Oh! no. — He was quite unabashed; — said quite pleasantly, that he was so little in the practice of settling his debts, it was not surprising he should make an error.”

  Mrs Gardiner thought Mr Wickham fortunate in possessing such a degree of composure as enabled him to keep his countenance even when caught out in the lie.

  The following day, Mr Haggerston called again. Wickham’s commission was ready to be signed; but the attorney recommended that the signing be delayed until the morning of the wedding. — Nay, he insisted on this precaution being taken. True, Wickham would only be the place-holder, not the actual nominee, — “But I have too good an opinion of Mr Wickham’s abilities,” he said, “to allow him the opportunity to speculate on any property which might be transferable.”

  Chapter Four

  “So your visiting Scarborough is now fixed, Bingley?” Mr Darcy said, one evening not long after his return to Pemberley. A neighbourhood family, who had come for a visit, had just taken their leave, and the two friends were taking a turn in the shrubbery after seeing them off.

  “My sisters would have it so,” Bingley replied, with a sigh, “and I suppose I must comply. If you will not join us, then we may not be meeting till we come to town this winter.”

  After a short silence,

  “I could have wished that Miss Bingley had not mentioned the report of Mr Wickham’s elopement over dinner,” Darcy said. “The Miss Owenses need not have heard any thing about it.”

  Mr Bingley agreed; but there was no curbing Caroline’s tongue. Darcy might have had something to say on the subject of Miss Bingley’s tongue had his mind not been elsewhere. He had long been wishing to ascertain whether Jane Bennet continued to influence his friend’s views. His officious interference there was still the subject of remorse, but at least he had undone some part of the evil. — Lydia Bennet was not lost, and a connection with her family had not been made impossible. Wickham might not be a relation to gratify, but there need be no other bar to Bingley’s hopes, (if hopes there were,) than an inconvenient brother-in-law. Darcy had not yet had the opportunity to communicate this encouraging circumstance to his friend. He therefore went on,

  “I said nothing at the moment, because I do not like to speculate on such matters, but I did hear a farther account while I was in town; and since it chiefly concerns people with whom we are both acquainted, I think you should hear it, too. — Especially (perceiving Bingley’s look of apprehension) as the fears expressed appear to be unwarranted: Mr Wickham and Miss Lydia Bennet are to marry. Wickham is not a man I approve of, as you know, but no scandal attaches to his name at present — nor to the rest of Miss Bennet’s family.”

  “I am glad for her family’s sake that this is so,” Bingley replied; and though he strove for calmness, he could not prevent some agitation from appearing. Nothing more was said, and Darcy was content that it should be so, wishing to avoid the indelicacy of any over-direct enquiry into his friend’s sentiments — or any betrayal of his own.

  The pleasant party at Pemberley broke up not long afterwards. The Bingleys and Hursts departed for Scarborough, where they intended to remain till it should be time to return to London. Mr Darcy and his sister were to leave Derbyshire on the following day. It had been intended that Georgiana should remain at Pemberley till Christmas; but hearing of a female academy in Queens-square, where a sister of Mrs Annesley (Mrs Younge’s successor) was a mistress, Georgiana had petitioned to be allowed to come up to town instead, and the petition had been granted. Brother and sister were first to go into Kent, where they would spend some days with their connections at Rosings.

  On the party’s last evening together, Miss Bingley seated herself beside Miss Darcy on the sopha, and inquired with pressing interest into her future situation. — Was Georgiana looking forward to her new school? And, did she think she should like it? — were among the questions which now poured forth. Miss Bingley had always understood her to prefer the country, as she did herself: — they were of one mind on that, for she held with the poet, that God had made the country, and man the town. “The country, with its rational pleasures, must be preferred by all thinking people as healthier alike for mind, spirit, and person.”

  Georgiana believed that she should miss the country, certainly; but the school was attended by the best London masters in music and drawing, and to apply where one might learn so much, was a truly animating lookout. A winter in town held one farther consolation: she should be seeing her brother more frequently.

  “Then I hope that I may be allowed to visit you, too,” Miss Bingley cried gaily, “ — for I shall be passing the entire winter in town. Is not that delightful? I am excessively pleased at the prospect. But your dear brother! How shall he fare in your absence? Surely, he does not intend to pass the whole of autumn here in the country, lost to all rational society?”

  Miss Bingley, in her solicitude for Mr Darcy’s well-being, pressed Georgiana so tenaciously about his plans, that that gentleman was obliged at last to take notice. He thanked her for her concern, but assured her that to pass the autumn in the country would not require his becoming a recluse. Rational society was to be had in Derbyshire: not perhaps to the extent available in Scarborough, but enough that he had no fears on the subject.

  “But what will you be doing with your time?”

  Mr D
arcy begged to point out, that the months of September and October must afford business enough for everyone residing on a great estate. “You may believe me when I say that I shall not lack for occupation. At that time of the year, a proprietor owes it to his tenants to shew, by his presence, the interest he takes in their lives. He must be prepared to enter into their troubles, and give assistance with as much understanding as good-will.”

  Miss Bingley had had no notion that Mr Darcy should be so tied by the leg; but she acknowledged that the duties of a proprietor might well be manifold and pressing during the harvest season. — This only confirmed her view, however, that with so much weary business to be got through, Mr Darcy would surely stand in need of refreshment. And Scarborough was within such easy visiting distance, — only eighty miles of good road. — “You should allow yourself in a holiday — indeed, you should. You will return to your duty with spirits renewed and a mind refreshed.”

  But Mr Darcy would make no promise, beyond saying, in a general way, that should his occupations allow of it, he might possibly visit Scarborough.

  It was the last week in August when Mr and Miss Darcy set out for Kent, and travelling by easy stages, reached it on the third day. Lady Catherine greeted her niece with great complacency, for it was some time since Miss Darcy had done her duty by visiting Rosings. From Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had been invited to meet them, Georgiana received a much warmer welcome: he was delighted to see her in such health and spirits, and begged her to play for them before dinner. Lady Catherine, though she did not trouble herself to attend the performance, advised Georgiana on the necessity of applying herself regularly to her instrument.

  “Georgiana never needs urging on that score, Aunt,” said Darcy. “Never a day goes by, that she does not practise very hard.”

  “I am delighted to hear it,” Lady Catherine went on, scarcely waiting for her nephew to finish speaking. “I was afraid she might not equal Anne in that regard. Anne’s powers of application are such, that she must have achieved a very superior degree of execution, if not for the fear that she might over-tax her strength.”

  Mrs Jenkinson, Miss de Bourgh’s companion, took the hint, and adjusted Miss de Bourgh’s shawl. Miss de Bourgh hardly seemed to notice, looking up from her book, (partially hidden beneath a piece of netting), with a shy smile. She had greeted the arrival of her cousins with an air of puzzled benevolence — as though her pleasure in seeing them was only a little diminished by her not recalling who they might be.

  “And what is Miss Anne applying herself to now?” the Colonel enquired, with friendly banter. “Some novel, I’ll be bound — Belinda or Cecilia, or some other in the list of female nomenclature, which make the shelves of the lending libraries groan beneath their weight at present. — Or if not that, some horrid mystery. — Am I right?”

  But Colonel Fitzwilliam was shewn to be mistaken; for when Miss de Burgh (with an apologetic blush) displayed her volume to the general sight, it proved not some insipid tale, but a thick, black-letter quarto, which imparted the rudiments of Hebrew. The Colonel admitted his error — and privately wished that it had been the Romance of the Forest or the Mysteries of Udolpho. He thought his cousin’s life at Rosings, under the regime of his formidable aunt, might need the sort of alleviation supplied by gibbering ghosts and rattling skeletons: perils of that nightmare kind, which disappear when the reader lifts his head from the book. He reckoned his cousin’s age at twenty-four or -five, and he wondered whether Lady Catherine might be feeling the seasonableness of implementing certain favourite thoughts in regard to her daughter and her nephew. From the Colonel’s observation of the friendly indifference she displayed towards Darcy, he doubted whether Miss Anne participated these expectations; that Darcy took no share in them, he felt fully convinced. But though Lady Catherine might ultimately be unsuccessful in her efforts to bring them together, the Colonel knew that it would not be from lack of tenacity.

  After dinner, Lady Catherine left the men to the enjoyment of their wine, with the understanding that they should not enjoy it for long. Happily, the presence of Mr Collins disinclined Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliams to linger over the port, for his zeal in displaying his deference towards all members of the family, made other conversation impossible. — They must be rejoiced to be returned to Rosings. Lady Catherine had been anticipating their visit for weeks. He had seldom seen Her Ladyship more affable. — “And Miss de Bourgh — do you think her looking more ill than when you visited in April? We are very concerned for her health.” Mr Darcy said as little as civility would allow, but the Colonel good-naturedly spoke a few short sentences in return for so much prolixity. He thought that Miss de Bourgh was enjoying her usual looks and health. “Was there any reason for anxiety on that score?”

  “Oh! indeed. Miss de Bourgh caught a shocking cold last week. She was unable to leave the house for two days.”

  “Summer colds can be very shocking,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “I have known them last a week.”

  Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam rejoined their female relations in the drawing-room soon thereafter.

  The following morning, Mr Darcy, looking down from a high window, saw Mr Collins in progress towards Rosings. He exited the house through a side door, and took another path to Hunsford Parsonage. A maidservant shewed him into the parlour. — Mistress was seeing to the chickens, but would soon come. The delay was not unwelcome to Mr Darcy: the room the servant had led him into was the very one where he had encountered Elizabeth Bennet nearly five months before. The pain awakened by being in that place was great, but he felt compensated by a vivid sense of her presence, which successive bursts of recollection made peculiarly strong. The anger he had then felt, had long since been done away. Whether her anger continued, he did not know. He had hoped to shew her, during their chance meeting in Derbyshire, that he had striven to correct the faults which had been its cause; but that hope had been dashed. The mission he had then undertaken, of undoing the harm he had caused, would soon be completing, and what could Elizabeth Bennet thenceforth be to him?

  Mrs Collins entered at that moment to break in on these unhappy meditations. “Mr Darcy! You do us great honour! Mr Collins is from home, — he usually visits Rosings of a morning, to see whether he may be of some service to Lady Catherine, — but you are very welcome.”

  Mr Darcy had merely wished to pay his respects at the Parsonage, which Mr Collins’s absence need not prevent. A silence of some moments followed, until Mr Darcy, recollecting himself, asked after Mrs Collins’s family. — Was everyone well at Meryton? Charlotte thanked him for the enquiry. “She had received a letter from Lucas Lodge only the previous day to tell her that her family all enjoyed perfect health.” But she was all the time wondering what could have caused Mr Darcy to be calling on her, and shewing a greater affability than she or Mr Collins had any reason to expect. (He could have no interest in her family’s welfare.) — Might it have something to do with Elizabeth Bennet? As long ago as the previous autumn, she had come to suspect that he admired her friend. So, thinking now that Meryton might stand for Longbourn in his construction, and Longbourn for Elizabeth Bennet, she went on to say — “that she had also heard of late from another mutual acquaintance of theirs, Miss Eliza Bennet. She always enjoyed Miss Bennet’s letters — she was the most engaging of all her correspondents.”

  “Recalling the liveliness of Miss Bennet’s conversation,” replied Mr Darcy, “I can readily believe that her letters must be entertaining.”

  Charlotte hoped that Mr Darcy did not think ill of Miss Bennet on the grounds of excessive liveliness. “People who know her but little, might do so,” with a slight movement of her eyes towards the window, through which a distant view of the great house was to be seen. Hers was the partiality of an old friend, but in her opinion, Elizabeth Bennet was not a person to make serious subjects the target of wit, or allow wit to compromise principle, however high a value she might place on humorous expression. Mr Darcy inclined his head with grave att
ention. “He believed that the opinion of so old a friend — one who had had so many opportunities to judge of her behaviour — was the more to be trusted on such a matter.” After a while, he rose to go, saying that he expected the pleasure of meeting Mr and Mrs Collins that evening at Rosings: Lady Catherine had mentioned at breakfast, that she intended to send the invitation. “My Aunt is perhaps a little jealous of her company upon their first arrival, but she is always happy to expand the party thereafter.”

  He took his departure with a sense of having heard a subject ventilated in a manner congenial to his mind, and leaving Charlotte in the belief that her guesses and surmises had not been far afield.

  That evening, when Lady Catherine, having had her fill of whist, released the gentlemen from their thraldom, Colonel Fitzwilliam asked Mrs Collins whether she had received news from Meryton of late. “What is that you are saying?” his aunt cried. “Is Mrs Collins telling you the infamous history of the sister of that impertinent girl who came here in April?” — (It appeared that Meryton stood for Elizabeth Bennet with Lady Catherine, as well.) — “To be eloping with Mr Wickham, if you please! — And now, Mr Collins tells me, it is to be patched up with a disreputable marriage.”