Lessons of Advantage

by michael sand

  They were all at breakfast the next day when the sound of carriage wheels was heard; and Kitty, jumping up to look through the window, reported that a chaise and four was driving up the sweep. Elizabeth remained seated, but the rest of the party joined Kitty at the window. There followed the usual buz of useless speculation: — “Who could this be? They were not expecting any one, it was too early for visitors. They did not recognize the carriage — nor the livery. Who could it be?” The servant entering to announce the visitor, everyone expressed the greatest surprise, and Elizabeth was obliged to pretend to a greater portion than she felt. But as she lay down her knife and fork, she was conscious of her angry spirits rising at the prospect of the encounter. “Lady Catherine is a great believer in frank speech,” she thought. “It is to be hoped that she may enjoy meeting with equal frankness from me!”

  She had no wish of equal frankness towards her own family, however, wanting above all things to avoid the mischief that might, and the unpleasantness that must arise out of this teazing rumour coming to their ears. Therefore, after Lady Catherine had entered, and bestowed a haughty greeting upon them all; and after some civil inquiries from her mother about Mrs Collins had received a perfunctory reply from her Ladyship; Elizabeth suggested that their visitor might like to be shewn round the park.

  “This was a very good thought of Lizzy’s,” her mother exclaimed. Mr Bennet’s park was as nothing in comparison to that of Rosings, of course, “but we have a very pretty little wilderness, which your Ladyship may like to view.” In truth, Mrs Bennet had been put into a state of uncomfortable awe by Lady Catherine’s cold formality and supercilious expression. The interview need not be prolonged to give her a right to triumph over her neighbours, and boast of the visit from a baronet’s widow. She therefore encouraged Elizabeth’s plan to be put into immediate operation. When Lady Catherine and Elizabeth had reached the copse in the shrubbery, where their conversation might be in no danger of being overheard, Lady Catherine took a seat on the bench uninvited, and opened upon Elizabeth in high and minatory accents. She was in no doubt that Miss Bennet could guess the reason why she had made this journey into Hertfordshire.

  “I am too old for guessing games,” Elizabeth replied stoutly. “Your Ladyship would do better to state your business without loss of time.”

  Lady Catherine bridled. Such impertinence from a young person! Did Miss Bennet know whom she was addressing?

  “I am wise enough to recognize your Ladyship.”

  “Very well! Since you are so indifferent to decorum, I shall dispense with all forms of politeness.” Did Miss Bennet know that Mr Darcy was engaged to her daughter?

  “I have heard it spoken of,” said Elizabeth, wondering how Lady Catherine could believe that her address had contained any politeness to be dispensed with!

  And was Miss Bennet aware that a scandalous report was circulating, which claimed that her nephew was engaged to her? Was this true?

  “Whether it is true that such a report is circulating, I cannot say. I am not aware of any. And I rather wonder that your Ladyship should give it credence, if such a report did exist. Can you think it possible Mr Darcy would engage himself to me, if he is already engaged to Miss de Bourgh?”

  Men, Lady Catherine knew, were susceptible on the subject of beauty. A young woman, with more guile than principle, might lure a man into indiscretions by her beauty.

  “I thank your Ladyship for the compliment,” said Elizabeth, with a smile, “but I make no claim to any extraordinary beauty or power of allurement. Nor does Mr Darcy seem to me the sort of man who would allow himself to engage with one young lady when promised to another. But your Ladyship appears to think less well of your nephew than do I.”

  Her Ladyship was incensed. Away with such evasions and equivocations! Let Miss Bennet speak out at once. — Were she and Mr Darcy engaged?

  Elizabeth had resolved, that though she should volunteer nothing, nor willingly participate any act of self-immolation, she must answer truthfully if asked a direct question. Therefore,—

  “I am not engaged to Mr Darcy,” she said.

  Lady Catherine looked pleased, believing that the upper hand had been gained at last, and that success was within her grasp. “Then as no engagement pre-existed, she was certain that Miss Bennet would not scruple to give her solemn promise of refusing Mr Darcy, should he ever make an offer.” In putting this proposition, her Ladyship showed herself like many another deluded general, who, apprehending victory at the very moment when defeat is most imminent, leaves himself vulnerable to the fatal counter-stroke.

  The anger which had been steadily mounting in Elizabeth, was now given additional point by the perception that here was being played out the identical scene from Arabella, which she had once derided to her sisters. She laughed, but with no very happy sensation. The mortifying resemblance made her appear ridiculous in her own eyes. — But she was no noble, self-sacrificing heroine! — She would not allow her views of future felicity to be set aside at anyone’s behest! (There was only this check on Elizabeth’s heroism — that she had no engagement to renounce, even if she would.) “I will give no such promise,” she replied, her heart swelling with indignation. “Nor will I agree to any conduct so much against my own interest. What could possess your Ladyship to come so far in order to make a request equally frivolous and ill-judged? How could you expect success?”

  Lady Catherine was now become very angry herself, and she proceeded to speak her mind with all her accustomary freedom and vigour. How dare Miss Bennet raise her eyes so high? “Do you pretend to be ignorant of the degradation your union would bring upon Darcy, the loss of honour he would sustain? Are you content to ruin him for your own selfish satisfaction?”

  “What honour do I injure that is not imaginary?” Elizabeth returned with energy. “And what is my selfishness to yours? — you who would drive him into marriage with a cousin he cares nothing for — and who may care nothing for him!” Elizabeth recollected herself then, and — too late — wished these words unsaid. But in battle, any weapon may be seized upon — even those with double edge.

  In the exchange of compliments which followed, let no one think that Elizabeth escaped unscathed; that she only administered wounds, and received none herself. Lady Catherine was too bonny a fighter for so happy an outcome. But the exchange had graver consequences for her, accustomed as she was to every one’s subservience; to her opinions never being contraverted, and her self-importance never rebuked.

  It may be that some readers may find fault with Elizabeth’s conduct in this interview. — “Lady Catherine’s is an ungracious character, to be sure, but does it behove any young person to be quite so outspoken, so free in her expressions, and so ready in contradiction as Miss Bennet shewed herself? After all, Lady Catherine was greatly her senior in years, as well as her superior in rank. Was not she entitled to respect?” There is some point to this reproof, and Elizabeth was not without qualms as to her behaviour; — though Lady Catherine’s chief claim to respect in her eyes, was in being her nephew’s aunt. Nevertheless, it is difficult to censure our heroine. Elizabeth Bennet had failings enough: — no-one shall claim that she was perfect; but in this case, her fault, if fault it was, may be excused. The opportunity to relieve the pain of forfeited hope through the expression of anger, was irresistible; and she had been given provocation enough. There may be young ladies so spiritless as to accept the tyranny of insolence without demur, but Elizabeth Bennet was not one of them.

  Chapter Nine

  Before Mr Darcy could pursue his plan of wandering, an exile amidst the desolation of ice and snow, there was a reparation which required to be made. He had almost instantly repented the injustice of his anger toward the Gardiners in the matter of Lydia’s disclosure; and he felt obliged to call upon them now, to shew that he harboured no resentment. (Or that was how Mr Darcy chose to put the matter to himself, though he might have another motive for his visit.) Accordingly, he walked round to Gracechurch-street
on Sunday. Finding Mr and Mrs Gardiner just sitting down to dinner, Mr Darcy would have withdrawn if Mrs Gardiner had not stopt him. “There was no need of apology. Mr Darcy could not know how unfashionably early they dined. And though they had nothing extraordinary to offer him, they would be honoured if he were willing to take pot luck, &c. &c.” Mr Gardiner joined his wife in pressing the invitation, and after a brief hesitation, Darcy accepted. He found the Gardiners’ comfortable ease infinitely preferable to the display he had witnessed at the concert rooms the day before, where so much unmannerly ill-breeding had been concealing under a shew of elegance and refinement. When dinner was over, Mr Gardiner rose. It was his custom to read to his children on Sunday afternoons; he begged Mr Darcy’s pardon for forsaking his society on such a pretext, but he had not opportunity enough of seeing his children during the week. “Mr Darcy should not leave on that account, however. He was sure Mrs Gardiner would be delighted to have his company. Tea was coming in that moment, and Mr Darcy must stay to take it with her.”

  Mr Darcy needed little encouragement. There was something honourable in such strong domestic habits, that stamped Mr Gardiner well in his esteem. Darcy also took pleasure in the atmosphere of confidence and good understanding, which obtained between husband and wife; — though it added to the pain of his mounting regret, that he was unlikely ever to enjoy so comfortable a domestic situation himself.

  When tea had been poured —

  “I apprehend that you passed some weeks in Hertfordshire,” Mrs Gardiner began. “The news about Mr Bingley and Jane must have come as no surprise to you therefore. From a prudential view, I suppose the good fortune must appear as most on my niece’s side, but there are more sorts of good fortune than one. In Jane, Mr Bingley gains one of the sweetest girls in the world.”

  Darcy was constantly hearing girls thus described who were deficient either in appearance, temper, or understanding; but he agreed that Miss Bennet had a juster claim to the title than most.

  “They had heard nothing as yet of wedding plans,” Mrs Gardiner went on. “But perhaps Mr Darcy possessed better information on that head. Did he mean to be soon returning into Hertfordshire?”

  At that, Darcy looked serious. He was contemplating a journey, and might not return to Netherfield for some time. “He had never been abroad. The mountains of Switzerland were what he longed to see,” — adding some tasteful expressions on the subject of the picturesque, as it might be represented in an alpine landscape, and touching on the scenic splendour to be found in icy chasms, vertiginous crags, and wild cascades of water. This exposition allowed Mrs Gardiner time, first to conceal, then to recover from her astonishment. — Why should Mr Darcy wish to go abroad at that moment? After considering for a while as to the cause of so strange a resolve,

  “I am glad,” she said, “that you found time to visit us before taking your departure. It makes me hope we may be forgiven. Mr Gardiner has never been comfortable receiving the credit for your benevolence; but he was exceedingly distressed that the secret should have been betrayed in so careless a fashion; — and that we should have been obliged to become parties to the disclosure.”

  And when Darcy begged that “no more should be said about it,” —

  “I know I shall be giving you great vexation, Mr Darcy, (in a voice of gentleness,) but something must be said about it. Honourable as is your wish of secrecy, its longer continuance may hardly be possible. Our confidence in our niece, Elizabeth, is undiminished; but what Lydia has divulged once, she may divulge again. It is therefore likely that the intelligence now known only to a few, may soon be known to many. We think you must prepare yourself for the possibility of a farther disclosure, — and perhaps this would be for the best, after all. It does not do for the truth to be only partly known; and in any event, it is difficult to deplore actions coming to light, which redound so much to your credit, and which, in your modesty, you have desired to conceal.”

  Mr Darcy flushed. He had not wished — did not wish — the Bennet family to feel indebted to him. Such a sensation would make it impossible to meet on terms of equality. “No frank expression could be expected, no freedom from constraint possible, where gratitude was required. The Bennets might think that he was expecting a return, or believed more due to him than was consistent with their own feelings.” He did not add, that he had reason to believe the evil already accomplished as far as the member of the family most interesting to himself was concerned. Shakespeare tells us that ingratitude is a “marble-hearted fiend.” Mr Darcy feared that gratitude might have an equally bad effect upon the heart. And if to the sense of debt were added the conviction, that the suppositious benefactor has acted in the expectation of gratitude! —

  Mr Darcy had risen in some agitation, and moving to a side table, he picked up a newspaper that was lying on it. “It would be giving him great disgust, (pretending to peruse its columns,) if any persons should feel compelled to some course disagreeable to themselves, out of a sense of obligation to him.”

  Mrs Gardiner thought she understood Mr Darcy — better, perhaps, than he had intended she should. “Of some part of the Bennet family,” she said, “you may well be correct, when you fear that knowledge of your generosity might make them too conscious of obligation to allow for ease and equality. But from two of its members, I am sure you need fear nothing of the sort. Miss Jane Bennet, soon to become your friend’s wife, would know what she owed the person responsible for her happiness; but gratitude would not mar the disinterest of her esteem. And of Elizabeth, I can only say that she is not so lost to the true reckoning of human motives as to misjudge the nobility which ^actuated her benefactor. A liberal act might increase her regard for a man she already respected, but it would not make her respect one she did not honour in that way. Truly amiable as is my niece, she is not so complying as to agree to any course which went against her principles, no matter what degree of obligation was thought due. — No, not even if the interest of her family were involved. On that point, I can give you proof. You may not know — for though no secret was made of it, I believe you were gone from Netherfield at the time — that Miss Bennet received a proposal of marriage last winter — from her cousin, Mr Collins.” —

  “Good God!” Darcy exclaimed, tossing the paper down with a look of blank indignation. Nothing Mrs Gardiner might have said, could have captured his attention so effectively.

  “There were those of her family, I may tell you, who were wild for her to close with this offer; — and seen prudentially, the match might be considered eligible. — Mr Collins is to inherit Longbourn. However, there was never the slightest likelihood of his proposal being accepted, for Mr Bennet set his face against it; but even if he had approved — even if her whole family had united in urging her to marry Mr Collins, Lizzy would not have done so. My niece is too well-judging to accept any man’s addresses from expedience, or any unworthy motive. The man whose addresses she did accept, could rest assured that he had been so fortunate as to obtain her deepest love.”

  Darcy could not at that moment entirely preserve his habitual reserve. In spite of his greatness, Mrs Gardiner often pitied the owner of Pemberley. She had long ago perceived that his appearance of hauteur concealed a protective shyness. His lofty position had separated him from all ease and openness; had put him on guard against the evils attendant upon it, — the sycophancy and subservient regard, into which deference too frequently degenerated. Mrs Gardiner believed that he was often wishing he could put off this guardedness, and knew not how. A wife might teach him, she thought, — if he were lucky enough to marry the right one.

  “I hope you will excuse me if I take the liberty of offering advice, Mr Darcy,” she said, moved by pity for him (and perhaps by interest for her niece as well). — “As a mother, it is often my office to do so. — But will you be comfortable travelling abroad at this moment? Will not your thoughts be here in England?”

  An expression of grave annoyance settled on Darcy’s features. Then, affecting to believ
e that the question must refer to the weather likely to be encountered on a journey at that time of year, he spoke for some time of the improvements modern contrivance had brought about in protecting travellers from cold. He had risen and was preparing to depart when Mr Gardiner entered some minutes later. “Had Mr Darcy truly to leave? Could not he stay supper?” But Mr Darcy must go. “He had already staid longer than he had thought possible.”

  In another instant, he had quit the room. When he was gone, Mr Gardiner observed, that “Mr Darcy seemed less composed than usual.”

  “He is certainly not himself,” his wife agreed. “He speaks of going to abroad.”

  Mr Gardiner’s face showed his dismay. “Mr Darcy to be going abroad — and his service to Lydia still unacknowledged!” It was true that Mr Bennet had so far made no inquiry about the money supposedly laid out on their niece, nor raised the subject of repayment; in that regard, Mrs Gardiner’s prophesy had been fulfilled; but a visit to Longbourn could not be long postponed. Mr Bennet would then be putting questions, which Mr Gardiner knew not how to answer. His wife had assured him that Mr Darcy’s role must become known before that period, and affairs between him and Lizzy settled. Instead — !

  “All may yet be well, Edward,” his wife assured him. “I have good hopes that Mr Darcy will not leave England, unless it be to go on his wedding tour!”

  Mr Gardiner could only shake his head, and pray his wife would prove a seer.