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Posted on Sunday, 28 November 2004
No greater folly is there than a lady determined not to fall in love.
Locarol: Behind The Scenes, Chapter 42, DWG, Epilogue Abbey
Mr. Bingley, so Elizabeth heard with regret, had gone to Longbourn to present himself as the future son-in-law to the family and prepare Netherfield for the arrival of his sisters who were to journey from Scarborough. In London, there was little time to dwell on any of the events in Kent. As bride and bridesmaid had much to purchase for themselves and the family, they went shopping every day. In the evenings, friends of the Gardiners often passed by, and generally were invited to dinner. Then the days ended with playing at cards or music and dancing.
Mrs. Tennant came to visit and soon she and Mrs. Gardiner discovered that they shared some acquaintances in the little town named Lambton. This 'happiest spot in the whole of England' was Mrs. Tennant's hometown and Mrs. Gardiner had spent some of her happiest years in her early youth there. It was located moreover next to Pemberley -- "Mr. Darcy's estate, you know, Lizzy." Mrs. Tennant assured Mrs. Gardiner that some of the families known to her still lived there and that she could furnish her with addresses. The merry clamour in the parlour lured Mr. Gardiner out of his study and his wife introduced him to the lady. Moreover, right away she instructed him to modify the schedule of their summer journey, as there must be time for a visit to Lambton on their way back.
Mrs. Tennant earnestly persuaded aunt and uncle to also visit Pemberley. The housekeeper was a friend of her and she would gladly write to Mrs. Reynolds, announcing their coming. They settled it then and Elizabeth, who was to be a member of the party, secretly rejoiced. The wonders of Pemberley had already piqued her curiosity in former days by Miss Bingley's adulations of the place.
As they parted, Mrs. Tennant firmly emphasized that Mrs. Gardiner and the girls owed her a visit also. She found the ladies eager to the scheme and they fixed a date. Promptly next afternoon a missive from arrived that gave them to understand that Mr. Darcy's carriage would be at their disposal at a convenient time. The offer was highly welcome and while Mrs. Gardiner marvelled at the housekeeper's audacity to dispose so freely of her master's belongings, Elizabeth secretly supposed the very man behind. Whether she felt certain, though, she could not determine; it could be but all her imagination. Though there had not been much time to dwell on Mr. Darcy, she felt her resistance soften. That he was the worst of all men, she no longer believed but caution was the order of the day. There was pride and haughtiness in him, and his machinations regarding Mr. Bingley and Jane she could not forget so easily, but the empathy he had shown in the face of his aunt's offences against her and his wish to see her in London with Jane and Mr. Bingley had been all that was sincere. Gradually, she was ready to grant him that right to be proud, which Charlotte had granted him months ago; but nothing more, mind you.
Mr. Darcy's chaise paraded at the proper time under the portico of Mr. Gardiner's house. The coachman and the footman assisting the ladies into the chaise wore blue liveries of a smoky shade with few silver adornments; their understated elegance worthy of Mr. Darcy's taste, Elizabeth thought. She sank into the rich upholstery of red velvet and for the first time became a feeling, how it was to be rich. They knew from Mrs. Tennant that he lived in Chelsea in a quieter part of London. After a lengthy journey through tolerable busy streets, they were driven along a wrought iron fence on top of a wall of limestone. By entering the gate, a polished brass plate announced in simple engravings that they were entering the 'Darcy Residence'. In the distance, a two-storied building of limestone covered with ivy rambled under very large, very old chestnut trees. The chaise followed a gravel avenue that circled in a wide bend the building and then the real house behind came into sight from which the construction seen from the entrance was but a side wing. Similar to Mr. Darcy, thought Elizabeth, living in a house with its back to the streets. Just like him standing at the mantelpiece and poking in the grate when the room is full of visitors.
The three-storied house, a sublime and lofty affair with rows and rows of high pointed windows on both sides of a vaulted portal, faced a park that stretched to the embankments of the Thames behind which they could see topsails sliding in the distance. If the ivy-clad house, hugged by these ancient chestnuts gave an impression as if it had risen with them from the earth, it had risen in formidable lines and proportions, a slate-covered roof with innumerable turrets and chimneys crowning the splendour. Oaks and beeches scattered over beautifully kept lawns down to the embankment, flowerbeds bordered the gravel avenue leading to the main building and in the courtyard sparkled a fountain.
They all were full of admiration and as the driver steered the carriage to the left side wing, Maria suddenly excitedly pointed out the window. "Look, Mr. Darcy, look," she cried. Down from the banks a rider came galloping in a breakneck speed towards the house and as he drew nearer, they could see that it was Mr. Darcy indeed, mastering a powerful dapple-grey horse.
"Oh," said Mrs. Gardiner, looking curiously at the approaching rider. "That is Mr. Darcy? What a fine figure of a man! Excellent seat." Obviously, she was as full of admiration for the sight of his figure as of his house. She cast a puzzled look at Jane who smiled and could not fail to notice Elizabeth's sharp intake of breath as well as Maria's flustered countenance. Here was something that was bound to be very interesting.
The carriage stopped and if Elizabeth thought that Mr. Darcy would disappear to the stables wherever they were, she was mistaken. The rider approached, jumped from the horse and handed rein, horsewhip, and hat to his groom who had been scarcely able to follow him. Elizabeth meant to never have seen a more formidable beast, which followed his master's commands without even a toss of his head. The footman, eagerly preparing the carriage for the ladies to disembark, found just time to step aside for his master. Elizabeth, no lesser astonished than her companions, thankfully gripped Mr. Darcy's hand and let herself be helped down the steps as the others did. She blushed and was glad to have put on her best afternoon dress. Her bonnet she had adorned with violets and new ribbons matching the parasol. In this sprightly fashion, she presented an enchanting picture and Mr. Darcy's admiring look was an appreciation right to her heart.
His welcome was friendly, he smiled and bowed to each of the ladies known to him, proclaimed himself pleased to be acquainted with Mrs. Gardiner and expressed his good wishes with all his blessings to a blushing Miss Bennet. Elizabeth almost stared at him. He was short of breath from the exercise with his horse. With his hairs tousled and his countenance flushed, he radiated health and good humour and she never had seen him so handsome and energetic. Mrs. Gardiner politely thanked for his extraordinary kindness in offering his chaise and assured him that they had never travelled with more comfort and elegance. He only laughed and ensured himself that all of the lady's family members were in admirable health. Mrs. Tennant had appeared behind him and he moved aside to include her in the group, saying,
"I will release you into the proper care of the soul of my house who is very eager to welcome her guests. I for myself hope you give me permission to show you my home after tea. I would like to acquaint you with my sister, or the other way round, Miss Darcy is strongly desiring to meet you all." As the ladies, all flustered gratitude, granted him the honour with a collective curtsey, he smiled, turned to Mrs. Tennant, and said, "You know where to find me." Then he bowed respectfully and went to the main building, leaving behind him a whiff of cologne, leather and horse odour.
As long as the amazing scene had lasted, Elizabeth could not free herself from the utter disbelief at the miracle it afforded. That his polite manners had outlived nearly one and a half weeks struck her forcibly, particularly as Mrs. Tennant acted as if it was no wonder at all. The lady welcomed her visitors with great cordiality and invited them into her abode.
Elizabeth, busy with her thought about the wonder she had witnessed, loitered behind the others and on an involuntary backward glance, she saw Mr. Darcy standing under the portal, looking in her direction. He was too far away to see his features clearly but he evidently looked with interest. Suddenly he bowed with a flourish like some ancient cavalier and then the portal swallowed him. Highly gratified that he could not see her blush, Elizabeth tried to comprehend her odd state of mind. Today, she could not put the blame on the dire aftermath of drinking brandy. Therefore: caution was the order of the day!
She came to herself again in Mrs. Tennant's comfortable parlour where the conversation continued to be no less lively than in Gracechurch Street. Tea was a grand affair and the sweets, fruits, cakes and cold meats, prepared with compliments from Mr. Darcy's cook, were gotten rid of with gusto. In the course of the conversation, Mrs. Tennant proudly confessed that a garden was attached to her lodgings. The Darcy's, knowing of her passion for gardening and her knowledge of herbs, allowed her to live in the side wing where she could amuse herself with the profession. This brought forward a stroll through the area, heartily appreciated by her satiated guests. The garden was indeed a little paradise and Mrs. Gardiner meant to observe that the Darcy's were very generous for letting her live here. This brought forth new panegyrics from Mrs. Tennant and she dwelled with energy on the many merits of her master. Then, fed and entertained to great satisfaction, time was come to meet the paragon.
The rooms Mrs. Tennant presented to them on the way were lofty and handsome and the furniture suitable to the fortune of the proprietor. Elizabeth saw, with admiration of Mr. Darcy's taste, that the interior was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine, with less of splendour and more real elegance than the furniture of Rosings.
They found Mr. Darcy and his sister in the library. This was a huge room with so many books lining the walls that Elizabeth, utterly fascinated, thought, Miss Offstickle, who had the privilege to be the leader of the library in Meryton, would have become green with envy if she could see such magnificence; that one could sincerely be occupied an entire lifetime reading all the volumes. Her father presumably would never ever have emerged again from this room if it had been his own.
The owner, impeccably groomed and clothed for the occasion, welcomed the ladies and introduced his sister. Miss Darcy was a girl near Lydia's age and Elizabeth did see with astonishment that she had difficulty to overcome timidity. Though little more than sixteen, her figure was formed and her appearance womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother was but there was sense and good humour in her face and her manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle. There was no sign of the excessive pride Mr. Wickham had attributed to her, on the contrary, the observation of a few minutes convinced Elizabeth that she was only exceedingly shy. Elizabeth, much relieved to find her amiable, felt acutely the duplicity of Wickham. She in no way made the impression of being mistress of the house as it was hard to coax even a word beyond a syllable out of her.
By beholding Jane, Elizabeth could see that the rosy hue that had passed over her sister's face was soon replaced by a warm smile. Even the most jealous bride could not see any symptom of envy in Miss Darcy's countenance as she became introduced to Mr. Bingley's fiancé.
The party, guided by Mr. Darcy, inspected the library and exclaimed their sincere admiration for his taste and knowledge of books. The next room was obviously set apart for to music, a grand piano, and a harp in the middle of the room suggesting it. As music is a language understandable by everybody, the conversation quickly turned to that profession. Miss Darcy begun to unwind; here she was on familiar ground.
Mrs. Gardiner saw with cute interest the brother's admiration for Elizabeth and that he got out of his way to promote a conversation between her and his sister. As she furthermore caught a twinkle in Mrs. Tennant's eyes, a new understanding dawned.
"Miss Darcy," she said, "I have heard from Elizabeth that you are a proficient and ardent player. How fortunate for your brother that he should hear fine music whenever he longs for it. We only have the honour when Elizabeth is in town or a friend is willing to play for us. My husband plays a little but slurs most of the time and I am absolutely incompetent in that profession, I may say."
"Oh," said Miss Darcy, blushing. "I play not half so well, certainly, as one proclaims but Fitzwilliam is content with my performance and that is all that matters to me."
Hearing Mr. Darcy first name, Elizabeth was fixed in astonishment at its being the name of his cousin's family. He caught her expression. "You wonder at my given name, Miss Elizabeth?" he queried. "No rarity in my family, I assure you. It is the name of my mother's family." He patted his sister's hand and smiled into her upturned face. "I am sure, Miss Elizabeth thinks my name suits me. I suspect, she takes me for a standoffish fellow, my dear," he said and darted a quick look at Elizabeth. Miss Darcy cringed, obviously taking her brother seriously. Bantering with comparative strangers was no performance, she had often witnessed with him and she dared not lift up her eyes in Elizabeth's direction lest she be affronted.
Elizabeth bristled indeed. "In a general conversation is this known as fishing for compliments, Miss Darcy. It is advisable not to pay too much attention to all what men say," said she with a reprimanding look at the brother.
"Ah," exclaimed Mrs. Tennant gleefully, "finally a woman with a healthy view on men."
The man declared objection, feigned to be affronted. "Tennant, you are deserting me. As if I ever did fish for compliments. Shame on you! ."
"Oh," protested Elizabeth, "this is preposterous. On our return from Kent, Mrs. Tennant has tuned your praise all the way from Hunsford to London."
"Is that so?" The man in question was all delightful wonder, grinning widely.
"Yes," grumbled Elizabeth, not daring to direct more than one glimpse at the vision, "about all the octaves, the entire keyboard up and down."
Now even Miss Darcy chuckled and witnessing Mr. Darcy's eyes crinkle in amusement and hanging with open admiration on her face, Elizabeth thought it advisable to lower her lashes. His openness alarmed her. However, the man could not let the subject rest. "Admit it, Miss Bennet, you did not believe one word of her tales," he provoked.
That he had a stroke of vanity amazed her. Seeking distance, though, she would not relent to the scheme. "Far be it from me to call Mrs. Tennant a liar but I can imagine that she is biased; you pay her wages," she retorted.
The others protested against such a prosaic way of thinking but Mr. Darcy only smiled and looked at Mrs. Tennant how she bore it. "So it is," said she and bestowed a smile on him that was as respectful as it was affectionate.
Jane patted Elizabeth's arm. "Please believe me, Miss Darcy, Elizabeth is not of a disposition to dislike anyone. She likes to tease and to needle sometimes but not spitefully. She is a dear companion and my best friend." Her praise went together with an affectionate look at her sister only to see a pout that would do Lydia proud.
"Yes," said Elizabeth, "and therefore you will desert me and run off with Mr. Bingley."
From Mr. Darcy's direction came a triumphant grunt. "Ah, I congratulate! There is another woman with a healthy look on men. It must run in the family. I am much delighted on behalf of my friend."
Miss Bennet, amused, thanked for the praise and Elizabeth thought that Mr. Darcy never had been more at ease as now in his own house. When Colonel Fitzwilliam had called him lively enough in other places, she had not believed a word. She knew not what to make of it and looked in her bewilderment in all direction, except in his. If he had been like these months ago in Hertfordshire, how differently she would have come to see him.
At last, Mrs. Tennant said that if they wished to see all that was worth to see they would better be on the way instead rattling away in this slovenly fashion. Jane, Aunt Gardiner and Maria followed her advice and soon they could be heard going up the stairs onto another floor. The other three stayed behind as Miss Darcy had begun to rummage in the music sheets, her aim to show Elizabeth the newest notes her brother had given her not long ago. His suggestion that she remain with Miss Bennet and play a little while he went with the others, met with her approval and Elizabeth, seeing Miss Darcy's eagerness, consented readily. Mr. Darcy left, and coaxed by Elizabeth, his sister soon elicited sounds and harmonies out of the instrument that filled Elizabeth with awe and admiration. There was no denying; here played a proficient and ardent player on an equally masterful instrument. Every sound tinkled in sheer breathtaking purity through the well-proportioned room.
Engrossed for a time in sounds and thoughts, the commotion outside first escaped their notice until the door flying open crudely disrupted their musical reverie. By the sight of the figure emerging, Elizabeth froze in horror: Lady Catherine de Bourgh, pulling a very distraught looking Miss de Bourgh behind her into the room. The butler without an attempt at announcing the lady shut the door with a stony mien. Miss Darcy abruptly abandoned the keys and leaped from her seat. "Oh, Aunt Catherine, how ... nice to see you," she stammered.
"Georgiana, where is your brother? I will speak to him this instance ..." boomed her ladyship, not bothering with a civil greeting; her nephew's insipid sister anyway seemed not worth the endeavour. Then her eyes fell on Elizabeth and now, for once near apoplexy, she lost her voice.
The four women stared at each other until by recognizing Elizabeth, Miss de Bourgh's startled exclamation roused the mother out of her stupor. "You?" she cried in her usual livid manner. "Creeping through the back door, indeed, but do not imagine that you will gain anything by it, dear Miss Bennet. Have you not already been long enough in this house?"
The attack left Elizabeth first dumfounded then mortified. Treated like an intruder, indeed! However, in her estimation Lady Catherine had long ceased to be a sensible person, therefore she disdained any attempt at being browbeaten and said, "I am a guest in this house, my lady, and so you are. I must not heed your orders and you are not entitled to insult me."
While the lady fought a strong mortification at such impertinence, aid came from an unexpected side. Miss Darcy stepped near and linked her arm with Elizabeth's although not daring to say anything. Elizabeth looked at the girl, their eyes met and they smiled.
Hurling forward, Lady Catherine pulled her niece from Elizabeth. "Stupid girl, is nothing due to my honour? How dare you protect this hoyden?" But tearing away from her grip, Miss Darcy ran to her brother who had appeared in the doorway like lightening, his countenance reminiscent of thunder. She nestled in his arms and over her head, nephew and aunt menacingly measured each other for fully ten seconds.
Then he found himself master enough to address her. "That is the outside of enough, Lady Catherine. You earnestly go too far by offending my guest in my house. You insult Miss Bennet with names she does not deserve. Please apologise and refrain from terrifying my sister." He hugged the girl with an expression that made Elizabeth's heart turn over and as his eyes met hers, she felt her resistance melting away.
"Rubbish," spat the lady, "do not dare telling me that you encourage this upstart!"
"Lady Catherine!" thundered the nephew suddenly with such a force that all ladies flinched back but before he could utter another syllable, Miss de Bourgh awakened from her numbness and dashed to the door, covering her face with her hands and sobbing repeatedly, "I am so sorry, I am so sorry." She flung open the door and vanished into the hall. The mother murmured something under her breath that sounded like a cutting remark, certainly no compliment for the daughter. Sobered, though, she waited for the footman to shut the door while she tried to regain her poise.
"Pardon me," she continued with fervour, "it cannot be helped. You are to understand, Darcy, that I came here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose, nor will I be dissuaded from it." Again, like once in Rosings her cane smacked the floor without consideration for the priceless carpet. "You know what I mean though you disdain to answer my letters. I never have been in the habit of brooking disappointment and I am not used to submitting to any person's whims. "
"That will make your ladyship's situation at present pitiable; but it will have no effect on me," Mr. Darcy retorted firmly, enraging his aunt further. She drew herself up to full height, swished the train of her travelling suit out of the way and sat down onto the sofa as if establishing herself there for all the time to come. The others remained standing, staring at her with mixed feelings.
"You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of our houses!" she cried, casting venomous looks at him and Elizabeth, "Unfeeling, selfish fool! Do you not consider that a connection with her must disgrace you in the eyes of everybody?"
"Allow me to say, Lady Catherine," replied Mr. Darcy, heavily labouring for breath, "your arguments are as frivolous as the purpose is absurd. You are ridiculous in the extreme and you cannot intimidate me. Your interference is officious and you have no right to concern yourself in my affairs. I must beg, therefore, that you importune me no farther on the subject and I would be highly gratified if you refrain from insulting Miss Bennet. And speaking of disgrace, an apology to her from your side is long overdue. On that subject, I already have made myself clear at Rosings. "
With a wave of her hand, her ladyship swept his impositions away like some irksome flies and with a voice even more sharpened, she cried, "And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Then it is very well that I knew how to act." She turned to Elizabeth, "Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try my nephew, I hoped to find him reasonable; but depend upon it, I will carry my point."
"Lady Catherine..." began Elizabeth but all endeavours at appeasement were in vain. The lady suddenly leaped up and headed for the door. She cast a last, scornful look at her nephew and with a voice strangely lowered that it sounded like a threat, she said, "I will not be contradicted by anyone. Such feeble attempts at willful renitence cannot stop me. I have come to end this farce; you shall see. You will do the honourable thing, just wait! I expect your repentance in due time."
With this enigmatic exclamation, her ladyship - quasi triumphantly - sailed out of the room, nose in the air. The remaining three met her leaving with silence. Mr. Darcy stood for a while rubbing his forehead, eyes closed. Elizabeth felt his mortification as if it was her own and dearly did she wish she could think of something to say but words failed her.
"Fitzwilliam," whispered his sister at last, "what does she mean? Why has she so horribly been abusing Miss Elizabeth?"
"Be calm, my dear, nothing will happen," he said reassuringly and then seated her on the sofa. Elizabeth went on his wink to Miss Darcy's side and he ordered a footman to tend to his aunt's needs. On the man's leaving, two stern looking servants rushed in, one carrying a tray with cups and another a carafe with a steaming liquid. Wordlessly they filled three cups, offered each with a curtsey to the girls and Mr. Darcy and then they vanished from the room in the same mute fashion.
'What a strange ceremony,' thought Elizabeth, smelling chocolate. The effect came immediately. Miss Darcy, casting a look at her now grinning brother, giggled despite tears, "This is Mrs. Tennant's all-weather, all-inequity and all-heartache medicine. Makes warm feet, rights all slights, cures all maladies. When Aunt Catherine visits us, we drink gallons of it."
Elizabeth laughed heartily, feeling the tension leave her. She marvelled at the mindfulness of the servants and as they sipped the chocolate in silent acquiescence, she could not but think that Mrs. Tennant was a treasure indeed.
"Are you feeling better?" asked Mr. Darcy of his sister. He placed his cup on a nearby table and took his sisters hands, chafing them between his. His next words came haltingly, as if he found it difficult to gather his thoughts. "You must know that our aunt's temper results from my refusing to marry Anne. I informed her so in Kent. Since then, she pursued me with letters, which I defied to answer. Miss Elizabeth is somehow caught in the crossfire, as our aunt has the notion that she is the cause of her disappointment. I felt myself called on to rescue her from our aunt's wrath, hence Tennant's sudden journey to Kent to chaperon her and Miss Lucas back to London. Miss Elizabeth has shown much forbearance with our aunt and me and here I am again apologizing for her, Miss Bennet. I truly feel sorrow. Accept my deepest regrets for her lamentable manners."
Elizabeth honoured his apology only with a slight bow. The softness in his eyes made her heart leap. Certainly never had anybody looked at her so endearingly.
Miss Darcy gaped at Elizabeth. "And Anne, why did she act so strangely? I have never seen her so upset. Indeed, I never thought she would be able to ... to rise herself to such heights."
There was a knock on the door and Mr. Darcy responded to it with a noticeable annoyance. His constrained looking butler informed him that her ladyship was in the foyer, very upset. She was unwilling to leave without her daughter but Miss de Bourgh would chose to remain in Miss Darcy's room with the door locked. And if Miss Bennet would be so nice as to join the other ladies in Mrs. Tennant's parlour as they were ready to leave.
Realising that she had quite forgotten the others, Elizabeth leapt to her feet. Mr. Darcy, though restrained, gave the impression of man at the end of his tether. Nevertheless, the leave-taking happened in the utmost friendliness. The master of the house hastened to assure Miss Bennet that usually his was a very peaceful home without any of the disturbances displayed today and his sister would certainly coincide with him in the hope to see Miss Bennet soon on a visit.
Elizabeth, all blushing gratitude, assured him that there was nothing to be sorry about, on the contrary, she had felt herself pleasantly entertained, except for a very unimportant incident, but visits with Miss Darcy must be postponed to a later stay in town as they were obliged to go home on the morrow. She could see that he was disappointed but he smiled and expressed his hopes to see her at Netherfield if the bridegroom saw fit to spare him a thought and invite him thither. She found his eagerness gratifying and it brought a becoming blush to her face. For a moment, he held her hand and searched her eyes, his manner hesitant. It seemed as if he wished to say something but with a sigh he commended her to his sister and went into the hall to tend to his aunts whims. Elizabeth burnt to know what had been on his mind, what he had wished to say and if he had held her hand a little longer than necessary, she was not disposed to find it disagreeable.
Miss Darcy led her through other halls from which to reach the housekeeper's quarters. The house was clearly in an uproar; many servants were underway.
"Aunt Catherine is awful," Miss Darcy whispered suddenly, blushing at what must be for her an audacity. "I am glad father did not make her my guardian as she had demanded. They have quarrelled months with each other, then, had exchanged letters. She did send solicitors hither but father would rely only on Fitzwilliam and Cousin Richard." The very thought of Lady Catherine being her guardian seemed to frighten her still and a shudder unsettled her frame.
Elizabeth thought that this revelation must be a stroke of confidence that was as astonishing as it was flattering. She assured Miss Darcy that there were surely no better guardians than her brother and Colonel Fitzwilliam, and the notion to be subjected to Lady Catherine's supervision must fill every honest soul with horror. They looked at each other and giggled.
The younger girl stopped suddenly and touched Elizabeth's arm with a pleading gesture. "Please do not think, Miss Bennet, that I am not grateful to my brother for his or my cousin's care but it would have been a nightmare without the aid, support and good will of Mrs. Tennant here in London or Reynolds in Pemberley. I have known them from childhood and without the love they have granted me, I would have been lost in the world with Papa ill and Fitzwilliam at university. It is my sincere conviction that I can never repay what they have done for me and I am glad that Fitzwilliam thinks alike. I do not easily make friends; too shy, you know, a Darcy trait I share with father and brother, I fear." A far away look appeared in her eyes. "I would have liked to have had a sister, though."
Elizabeth felt a strong inclination to take the girl into her arms and bestow her the comfort she deserved but all that she could do was to confess that she had four sisters and no brother at all. Miss Darcy's eyes grew wide and they smiled at each other.
Posted on Monday, 6 December 2004
Till this moment, I never knew myself.
Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 32
After a friendly farewell to Mrs. Tennant and in the safety of Mr. Darcy's chaise, Elizabeth tried to sort out her emotions and to wonder how Lady Catherine's campaign had escaped the attention of the other guests, most likely thanks to the housekeeper's circumspection. How amiable Mr. Darcy had been, so altered. How eagerly he had approached them on his horse and invited them to see his house. There had been no obligation to take notice of the guests of one of his servants. It shed a favourable light on his relationship with Mrs. Tennant; evidently, the esteem was on both sides. He had defended her, Elizabeth, against his aunt and never in the course of the dispute had contradicted his aunt's opinion that he preferred her to his cousin. She knew not what to make of it. If the honour was all on her side, it was a disturbing idea indeed. More disturbing, though, were her feelings of warming to him, his graceful sister, and his grand house.
Her sister and aunt chatted about the visit they had made, the house they had seen and the admiration they felt for Mrs. Tennant's housekeeping, especially her virtues as hostess. Mr. Darcy should be very lucky to have such a devoted and proficient servant. Mrs. Gardiner pronounced Mr. Darcy infinitely superior to anything she had expected. "He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming," said she. "There is something a little stately in him, to be sure, 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 behaviour to us. It was more than civil, it was attentive, and there was no necessity for such attention. To be sure, Lizzy, he is not so handsome as Wickham, or, 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 by saying that she had liked him better when they met in Kent than before and that she had never seen him so pleasant as this afternoon. "You can believe me, aunt, I am also surprised. He was never so amiable as today. It is maybe that he was there in his own house."
"I am glad, Elizabeth, that you have at last a better understanding of Mr. Darcy. I thought him always a better man than what was seen on the surface," said her sister. Maria fervently confirmed Jane's opinion and recounted some of the housekeeper's praises. "She says he is the best master and landlord and the best brother and that the staff adores him. She says he seems to be proud but that is because he does not prattle nonsense like other men."
"But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities," replied Mrs. Gardiner smilingly, "great men often are; and therefore I shall not take him at his word about wishing to be acquainted with Mr. Gardiner, as he might change his mind another day and never show up."
Elizabeth heard it with astonishment. Mr. Darcy in Gracechurch Street? Although uncle and aunt lived in a respectable neighbourhood, she would never have thought that a man like Mr. Darcy would come into that part of London on his own free will to make a social call. What favourable impression Aunt Gardiner must have made on him! But that was in Elizabeth's opinion not to be wondered at. Her aunt, a fashionable woman, rather handsome and equipped with a sensible mind, possessed sufficient charm and breeding to be considered as a lady.
"From what we have seen of him," continued her aunt, "I really should not have thought that he could have behaved in so cruel a way as he has done to poor Wickham. He has not an ill-natured look. On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when he speaks and dignity in his countenance, giving you a favourable idea of his heart. However, to be sure, Mrs. Tennant did give him a most flaming character. I could hardly help from laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a liberal master, I suppose, and that in the eye of a servant comprehends every virtue."
She felt herself called on to say something in vindication of Mr. Darcy's behaviour to Wickham. She gave her aunt to understand that by what she had heard from his housekeeper his character was by no means so faulty, or Wickham's so amiable, as they had been considered in Hertfordshire and she recounted the particulars of Mrs. Tennant's declarations on their journey from Kent. Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned but as they were now approaching home, every idea gave way to the anticipation of her four children who awaited them impatiently in the front parlour with the nanny.
The next day the three young ladies left London and on their way to Hertfordshire, Lydia and Kitty met them halfway with their father's carriage at the appointed inn. The greeting was lively and after hugging her siblings, Lydia fell into effusions about a grievous misfortune. Colonel Foster's regiment was to leave Meryton to be encamped near Brighton. "Is this not a great disaster," she wailed. "How can we survive such hardship? Our hearts shall break. And Mr. Wickham, dear Elizabeth, Mr. Wickham is free of Miss King. As it seemed, her uncle has transported her to Liverpool, out of reach, and there is to be no betrothal. You can rejoice; at last you have outwitted that freckled little thing."
As it seemed, Elizabeth was able to bear the news with equanimity and secretly she rejoiced over Mr. Wickham's leaving Meryton. The sisters led the travellers up to a private room on the second floor and while their footsteps echoed on the stairs, Elizabeth held Maria back and implored her not to let out a breath of what they had heard of Wickham. There would be no sense in denouncing him, as he was now to leave in any case. Maria, in her mind already busy with the problem and its consequences, consented readily. How should they encounter Wickham if his character was common knowledge and the intelligence that they knew it all may reach his ears? How awkward!
Kitty and Lydia had meant to treat the home-comers with a salad and cucumber, fresh vegetables and meat. However, the elders must, regretfully, pay it as they had spent all their money in the shop opposite. After they had eaten and the elder girls paid, the last part of the journey was spent crammed in together with purchases and bandboxes in Mr. Bennet's carriage and Lydia and Kitty notifying them of all of what had happened in their absence that was worthy of being told.
Their reception at home was most kind and both parent expressed their sincere pleasure at seeing them in undiminished health and beauty. Barely seeing Jane under her roof again, Mrs. Bennet began to make plans for the marriage with the eager assistance of the Lucas clan who had appeared in abundant numbers to welcome Maria home.
Though Elizabeth was glad to be home, her first business on the next day was to persuade Jane to take a turn with her about the countryside. The sun of early May made her longing for fresh air and exercise and her absence of nearly two months made her curious for the changes outside. She also had not yet had an opportunity to disclose to her sister all that was significant to reveal from her adventures in Kent and London and in the house they would not have one hour's peace for days to come thanks to her mother's eagerness to prepare for the wedding. They stole away and soon rambled contentedly through lush meadows and prospering fields. It had rained in the night and the sun cast a brilliant light on the greens and browns of the pasture.
Jane, with her heart and head full of Mr. Bingley, chatted with unwonted energy about her most beloved topic and his imminent return from Scarborough with his sisters.
"He has made me so happy," said she, "by telling me that he was totally ignorant of my being in town this past winter! I had not believed it possible. It was his sisters' doing. They were certainly no friends to his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at it since he might have chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see, as I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will learn to be contented and we shall be on good terms again; though we can never be what once we were to each other."
"That is the most unforgiving speech," said Elizabeth, "that I ever heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again the dupe of Miss Bingley's pretended regard!"
"Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November, he really loved me and nothing but a persuasion of my being indifferent would have prevented his coming back again!"
"He made a little mistake, to be sure; but it is to the credit of his modesty."
This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence and the little value he put on his own good qualities.
"I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!" cried Jane. "Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family and blessed above them all! If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such another man for you!"
"If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as you. Until I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time."
They laughed at this picture and Elizabeth danced ahead facing her sister, claiming attention for an important announcement. "Oh, speaking of other men, you cannot know what I have to tell you. You will be absolutely flabbergasted and not believe a word of what I say," she said smiling in anticipation of Jane's surprise but her sister looked past her and pointed at the figure further down the lane. Maria Lucas was approaching, hopping over puddles and waving excitedly. Her untimely appearance made the elder girls puzzle at the purpose for such an early endeavour, as they knew that Miss Lucas was the greatest slumberer on God's earth.
"Lizzy," Maria panted, drawing nearer, "glad to see you. You will never believe what I have to tell you. Papa gets the 'Guardian', you know, and guess what they write." An agitated pause followed in which Maria fought for breath, eyes huge as saucers. Jane and Elizabeth, mystified, looked at her expectantly and the girl obliged them by blurting out, "There is the announcement of a betrothal in it. - Mr. Darcy... he is engaged to Miss Anne de Bourg!" After blowing her cheeks, she let out a huge breath.
A thunder from heaven could not have made Elizabeth or Jane more stupid looking. 'No!' was all Elizabeth could think, caught in a deadly paralysis.
"Maria, you are joking," laughed Jane.
"Oh, no, I have seen it black on white and father has read it to all of us and we discussed it for quite a length of time. Then I decided to tell you right away, if your father does not get the Guardian. But maybe it is announced in other newspapers too; anyway, mama plans to visit with your mother."
"Well," said Jane, "it is as may be expected; someday he is bound to marry. What girl is Miss de Bourgh, Lizzy?"
As her sister seemed not to hear, rather kept staring dumbfounded at the younger girl, Maria answered, "Miss de Bourgh is such a tiny creature and always sickly, you know. I do not understand what Mr. Darcy can be thinking. I would have never considered him such a fool; as if he were not rich enough to marry for love." The topic seemed to aggravate her and she stole a quick look at Elizabeth. "I have always thought ... but that is neither here nor there ... anymore." She sighed and sadly shook her head. "I am on my way to Longbourn to tell your sisters and hear what they think of it." With these words and a final look at the elder girls, Maria scampered away and in a short distance they could hear her murmuring, "What a pity, what a pity."
Jane, incredulous, laughed, "What an evil prospect Maria evokes. That cannot be so terrible. Mr. Darcy is much too sensible to take a wife without affection. He knows his cousin; at least they are intimate with each other." That was all she sought to think about the matter, not troubling herself with the question why Mr. Darcy should not marry Miss de Bourgh.
Elizabeth shuddered. She was not yet able to comprehend what she had heard. Mr. Darcy - engaged to Miss de Bourgh! Unbelievable! Flashes of memories attacked her: Miss de Bourgh running into the hall, weeping, and crying, 'I am so sorry, I am so sorry'. She must have known it in advance and fiercely resented seeing Elizabeth in Mr. Darcy's house. But why was she sorry? It did not make sense. Her mother, though, had been so very sure that Mr. Darcy would do 'the honourable thing'. Now Elizabeth knew why. And Mr. Darcy - why was he such a coward? Had he not assured his sister that he would not marry his cousin? Had she dreamed it? However, if the affair was already so far developed that it was published in the newspaper, then he was as good as married. She could not think further down that line for the emotions gripping her. Clinging to her last sense of reason, she gathered her wits.
"Lizzy, what is bothering you?" asked Jane, linking arms with her. "I must admit a huge amazement on the occasion but how can it affect us? I believe you are the last one to care for who Mr. Darcy is going to marry." Cheerfully, she pulled Elizabeth down the lane, running, not knowing what affects her words had on her sister. "Come, we shall have some exercise, shall we? Anyway, speaking of his friend," she cried, "shall you not say, he is a much more gratifying object?"
She was so full of her own happiness that Elizabeth's distress quite escaped her notice for the first time in life. But Elizabeth did not mind her sister's apparent negligence, on the contrary, it saved her from distressing questions. While Jane chatted away in new panegyrics on her distant beloved, conjecturing when he would make his appearance at Longbourn, Elizabeth only heard the half of it, her mind occupied. She was amazed at the wretchedness gripping her and realized that from the very beginning she had never been so indifferent to Mr. Darcy as she would have made herself believe. Had she not always responded to his presence with irritation or keen attention, having been born out of that resentment that his careless remark at the assembly had evoked? So long as it had been her conviction that he never once would stoop to people outside his own circle, she had felt free to criticize, mock, and think ill of him. How did she now wish to be able to rekindle those feelings! It would be so much better to be furious with him or indifferent than to suffer such an abysmal misery. She fervently wished that she had never laid eyes on him.
Why had he so adamantly refused to heed his aunt's demands and made certain to his sister that he would never marry his cousin - yet days later the engagement was flaunted in the papers? That man was not worthy of her trust! And why did this bother her? Was she getting soft on behalf of a man who did not merit her esteem? How could she now acquaint Jane with the happenings at Rosings and in Darcy's town house without inviting a mountain of questions, scarcely to be avoided and still lesser to explain? She was not disposed to deal with the curiosity, no, better not tell any of this; thank heaven that she had not done already.
Confused, she perceived a feeling of betrayal. She feared to imagine, what would have happened if he at the time in Netherfield had been so amiable as he had been in London or Kent. To discover his underhanded charm had been a heady experience, the stronger, as it was unlooked-for. How foolish and blind she had been, utterly unbelievable! When had the alteration begun? She did not know. It had seeped into her being with tiny traitorous drops, unbeknown at first until the announcement had rudely jolted her awake. How could she still believe in her own power of perception anymore? Was a mere glimpse behind his façade all that was needed to have transformed her feelings so dramatically? Was she in love? -- No, no, no, it was only regret for what could have been if he were not Mr. Darcy, master of Pemberley.
With these thoughts, finally, she appeased herself. However, getting a headache from thinking in circles and very at odds with herself, she was glad that Jane prattled away until Longbourn came into view, seeming for the first time like a safe haven. Those feelings, though, could not long prevail. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, Lady Lucas and Aunt Philips sat in the parlour, lively discussing their respective opinions about Mr. Darcy's betrothal. With astonishment had they heard from Maria that he had revealed himself in his home as welcoming and agreeable, and the extraordinary intelligence that he wished to be acquainted with the Gardiner's, left all of them speechless with surprise.
"Maybe his betrothed has mellowed him," scoffed Mr. Bennet behind his newspaper, not giving credit to any of it. "He would not be the first man to lose his sense over a woman."
"Dear brother, how can you say such a thing," toned Aunt Philips, briskly shaking her head, "Mr. Darcy is much too stiff and snobby to lose anything worthwhile by becoming engaged." The feathers of her headdress bobbed sagely in confirmation of her wisdom.
"I wish him luck with his sickly wife, his cousin. I am sure they deserve each other," cried Mrs. Bennet who stood at the sideboard looking into the mirror. While one hand plucked at some curls, the other fluttered a handkerchief as if to join in the motion.
"Be as it may," laughed her husband, "at least he has to fulfill his duties and procreate a heir for his noble family. Poor woman, in any case, that is to marry that fellow."
Lady Lucas, mother of numerous Lucases, felt herself in the right to elaborate wholeheartedly on the duties of a wife and if Miss Ann de Bourgh in her delicate condition was able to perform that duty. Sadly shaking her head, she begged to consider, "If I should be so free as to say what is my surmise following Maria's narration, I should dare to think that Miss de Bourgh's health is a dire impediment in that respect."
The conversation happily orbited around similar topics with a revolting casualness. Elizabeth knew such subjects to be ordinary and kept silent in disgust. They all were well acquainted with the merciless rules of society but never had they made such a cruel impact on her and her father's mockery grated on her nerves. She exchanged a look with Jane and both kept silent. The antipathy against Mr. Darcy was so violent that no one was disposed to credit him with some delicate feelings. At any other time Elizabeth would have vindicated him in some items but feeling herself involved in the matter with such a bewildering range of emotions, she thought it too perilous lest she evoke a flood of curiosity she was incapable to handle. Feeling her headache sharpen, she excused herself and went to her room.
All endeavours to engross her wayward thoughts with reading a novel proved impossible and sleep was a sad affair until long after midnight. Eventually, she confessed herself beaten by regrets. Miss de Bourgh's strange, tearful reaction at seeing her in Mr. Darcy's house now made sense. She must have known that the engagement would be shortly in the paper and the sight of her possible rival must have pained her. Elizabeth could well image how her ladyship had stormed about the unwelcome Hertfordshire Miss all the way from Kent to London. Poor Miss de Bourgh, she had to endure the behaviour of her mother, was dragged through the house like a doll, shocking servants and guests. However, why she had expressed her sorrow and shut herself in Miss Darcy's room was a mystery only Miss de Bourgh would be able to solve. Maybe, she had acted out of objection to her mother and had exercised the skill of contradiction for the first time in her life? But that was not very likely; Lady Catherine was not a woman to be gainsaid, the announcement was proof of that.
And Mr. Darcy's role in the affair? Having lately considered him as the worst of all men, she was now forced to admit that she, following his vindication as a honourable man, felt a grave disappointment and it vexed her. As he had looked at her in the music room, had not his eyes shone with admiration and devotion? Had she dreamed it? Torn between a not at all friendly compassion for Mr. Darcy's fate in a dull marriage and derision that he deserved nothing better, she twisted and turned, finding neither rest nor self-control.
At last, she scolded herself a nitwit for believing that Mr. Darcy had at any time seen anything extraordinary in her person. He, anyway, would not stoop to make an offer to a daughter of a mere gentleman who could not even supply a dowry; he who was born to marry into the highest circles of society. Did not Mr. Collins say that even his cousin was born to be a duchess? For a time she indulged in imaginings of how a handsome, rich duke would make a timely appearance and sweep Miss de Bourgh off her feet, leaving Mr. Darcy free to... oh, rubbish! Agitated she boxed her pillow and finally succumbed to a fitful fatigue in which a scornfully laughing Mr. Darcy haunted her dreams.
Posted on Monday, 13 December 2004
Two days later Elizabeth joined her father at breakfast. Toying with her food, she secretly wondered when she would be her normal self again. Since the announcement, whose evidence she at last had seen with her own eyes in the newspaper Lady Lucas had brought to Longbourn, she secretly had moped about the house and the countryside in the same loathsome manner as she had always attributed to Lydia. She was not of a mind to be so despondent and it filled her with a quiet disgust. Her father was at leisure to undisturbed read the newest politics as no one else of the family had appeared yet. The paper rustled in periodic intervals as he worked his way through the pages until a sudden exclamation startled his daughter out of her reverie.
"Elizabeth," he excitedly cried, "you will never believe what I have just read. By my honour, it is the first time in my life I have witnessed such enormity -- and from Mr. Darcy! I dare say that gentleman has spirit!"
His daughter blinked, not making head or tail of his behaviour. The mention of Mr. Darcy's name, however, electrified her sufficiently and he obliged her with reading aloud what had fascinated him. "Open your ears, child! Your unpleasant Mr. Darcy has the nerve to call the announcement of his betrothal a fake! Here it is written,
Dear reader, we all saw with astonishment and anticipation that one of London's most eligible bachelors, Mr. D. of Pemberley, Derbyshire, was about to enter the state of matrimony with Miss Anne de B. of Rosings Park in Kent, so the announcement in the Guardian informed their dear readers yesterday. But this proud proclamation was already withdrawn in the next edition. The Guardian declares the announcement a fake and expresses regrets for having published it by mistake. Mr. D. and Miss de B. were not engaged and wished to declare that they never had the intention to enter into an alliance of the kind. What mystery is this? Shall we believe it? Is not this peculiar incident worth investigating further on the matter?
Mr. Bennet was in raptures. "My, I would be highly gratified to know how much it had cost him to induce the Guardian to apologize; heaps of money, I may say. What a clever fellow!" While he thought the present day could not hold more diversions of such delightful quality, his daughter sat in such a frozen numbness that he felt obliged to elaborate on that entertaining issue.
"Mr. Darcy betrothed, I knew it could not be; Mr. Darcy who looks at a woman only to see a blemish. Remember my words, there will be an upheaval in the 'ton' and an endless tittle-tattle. Poor Miss de Bourg will not be able to leave the house for months to come for the scandal; and her mother - dear heaven; poor woman in any case that is forced to marry such a self-important fellow. Are you not diverted, Elizabeth, why do you not laugh?"
He stopped in his efforts of ridiculing Mr. Darcy to see his second eldest wordlessly leave the room. He could not dwell on his astonishment, as moments later his wife entered and diverted him with a caustic remark on the odd behaviour of her least beloved daughter who had rushed past her without wishing a good morning and vanished through the back door without donning even a hat. She was doomed to get a cold and deservedly so, as she could have been happily married to Mr. Collins since ages. Her husband, however, succeeded in distracting her with a scandal of outrageous proportions.
In the garden, Elizabeth walked up and down, oblivious to the chill of the morning. She wrung her hands, fully convinced of acting silly and childish, which had never been to her liking. Her state of confusion swayed from extreme agitation to giddiness forth and back. This was not tolerable and she called herself to order. What was Mr. Darcy to her and his outlandish behaviour? Had there not been a time when he was only a person she wished to ridicule? Battered by nameless emotions, she thought it advisable to cry, lest she burst into pieces with agitation. This task accomplished, she went indoors unseen, put on pelisse and bonnet and departed for a long stroll into the prospering fields of early May and in all her inner uproar, it quite escaped her, why Mr. Darcy should be blamed for her fierce reaction to his strange doings.
However, Elizabeth could not long wonder. Now, Miss de Bourgh's conduct made sense. With amazement, then, did Elizabeth understand what had wholly escaped her during her depression: Lady Catherine herself had been the author of the fake. The daughter must have been witness to her mother's attempt at forcing the nephew to capitulate since they had come straight from placing the announcement in the paper. All her sorrow had been on behalf of her cousin trapped in an unwanted engagement. Apparently, there was more in the daughter of Lady Catherine than the eye could see. One would never have credited insipid Miss de Bourg with such strong feelings. Moreover, she had deserted her mother! The humiliation Lady Catherine must go through was barely conceivable in such a proud woman; poor Charlotte for being at the receiving end of her wrath.
Elizabeth's mood increased with the realization that Mr. Darcy was restored to his former trustworthiness. He had beyond dispute refused to be caught in his aunt's trap, and to induce the Guardian to take the blame, with whatever means, was a stroke of consideration for his aunt that was remarkable. Thinking of how the scandal must affect him and his pride, Elizabeth almost felt sorry for him.
At last, she felt disposed to relent, confess a certain attraction to him, a passing fancy, a romantic imagination -- but nothing more than what could not be cured with incessant employment for, maybe, two days and the steadfast resolve to stay clear of further imaginations of Mr. Darcy and his dimples. Her temper gradually changed from dejection to cheerfulness. She became aware that she had bent her steps toward Netherfield and she could see the Bingley's arrival in the distance. Unwilling to bear the society of Miss Bingley and her sister, she returned without presenting herself at the house. 'So, Jane will be happily reunited with her betrothed,' she mused, satisfied, and if her climbing over stiles and hopping over puddles would look to an onlooker as if she were a happy creature, it was all quite by accident.
On arriving at Longbourn, she was in a state of welcome exhaustion from too much exercise and soul searching. She amused herself with the idea of asking her father for a brandy, which brought back thoughts of Mr. Darcy on the terrace of Rosings. That would not do; better plunge herself into family affairs and think of Jane's marriage, embroidery, great books or new sheet music. But thinking of practising generated the picture of Mr. Darcy standing before her in Rosings' drawing room, declaring his pleasure in hearing her play. -- There was no escaping that man.
Elizabeth was greeted by turmoil of another kind, for Lydia had received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the colonel of the regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good humour and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other, and out of their three months' acquaintance, they had been intimate with each other two. The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty were scarcely to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister's feelings, Lydia flew about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for every one's congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever; whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repining at her fate in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish. Half the afternoon was spent by Elizabeth to recall to Lydia's mind her elder sister's forthcoming marriage, and her obligation to attend to it -- but the task was in vain. The stern lectures of her father to forgo her raptures for better times finally forced her to submit, which left her sulking about the house for days to come.
Mr. Bingley made his appearance the next day early at breakfast, was greeted enthusiastically by the family and claimed Elizabeth's congratulation due a future brother-in-law. She heartily consented with all the warmth she could muster. He seated himself next to his becomingly blushing Jane and gripped her hands thus preventing her from breakfast but that seemed no bother to Miss Bennet at all. He related news from Scarborough and from his sisters, who would appear later to make their obeisance to Jane and the family. Elizabeth secretly rolled her eyes on this intelligence, although she was curious to what Miss Bingley opinion was of Mr. Darcy's scandalous break of engagement.
Asked by Mr. Bennet whose early morning sport consisted in the minute perusal of the latest papers from London for news of the brimming scandal, Mr. Bingley was obliged to confess ignorance. No, he could not make head or tail of Mr. Darcy's odd engagement and the odder end of it. In his opinion, his friend had never once felt an obligation to marry his cousin. Therefore, his amazement had been equal to that of Mr. Bennet. No, his friend had not yet written to him and no, he did not believe he would be very informative on the matter given his guarded disposition.
Mr. Bennet was disappointed but amused himself with reading aloud some articles in the society pages that elaborated on the matter.
Mr. D., our newfound hero, has been seen yesterday riding through Hyde Park at a fashionable hour in a carriage with Miss de B and his young sister in attendance, viewable to all in apparent harmony after declaring themselves not engaged.
It was not difficult for Elizabeth to surmise that Mr. Darcy visiting Hyde Park with his shy sister and Miss de Bourgh at a time most of London's aristocracy would be out there was indeed a rare sight to be seen. The purpose, naturally, was to allay all suspicions about the engagement, to show that Miss de Bourgh had remained with her cousins in London for the entire world to see and that they had nothing to hide.
"Can we believe it," Mr. Bennet blithely read on, "can we believe that Mr. F. D., one of London's most eligible bachelors, once again has escaped the traps of matrimony? Mr. D., nephew of the Earl of M., is well known in his circles for his extraordinary fastidiousness on the subject of ladies and for his self-possessed character. To this day, his name was seldom mentioned in the sheets and even more seldom in connection with a lady. Parents and guardians of eligible daughters and wards declare him a very sought after albeit tough nut that has been impossible to crack so far. Dear reader, you can all breathe free. He further remains a worthy catch on the marriage market of our 'ton'!"
Lydia snorted at this reflection, poked Kitty's arm, and both giggled. Mrs. Bennet shook her head, saying, that it was not to be wondered at while Mr. Bennet shuffled through the papers, opening the Courier. Here he found unerringly another article. Elizabeth, who could see that her father had furnished himself with more newspapers than was otherwise his wont, had never witnessed her family so in unison with her father as now. They were all listening with gusto, as he obliged them. Next to the headline 'Mr. Darcy's secrets' he read as follows,
On some discreet investigations in the beautiful county of Kent a little bird has twittered some interesting news regarding our hero. As we found out, Mr. D. spent about Easter three weeks in Kent at Rosings, the home of his aunt Lady Catherine de B., sister to the earl of M., and in the presence of Miss de B., his supposed wife to be. The engagement, so we hear, was announced ten days following his return to London, and as we all know, was withdrawn immediately. Though the Guardian claims all the guilt in the matter, we are certain: No smoke without fire! It is known that a connection between the houses Darcy and de Bourgh would be seen in a very favourable light. Do not despair dear readers, we shall investigate, and if there is a secret, we shall unravel it in time!
Folding the paper with a very pleased chuckle, Mr. Bennet eyed his second eldest daughter. "Well, Lizzy, it seems you are a bearer of secrets given that you visited Kent at the time. You have been very hushed about it, never mentioned that Mr. Darcy was there too. If Miss Lucas had not referred to it, we never would know. Now, out with it," he drawled, but the twinkles in his eyes showed that he was not taking himself seriously. Elizabeth, feeling hot and embarrassed, made no comment but forced herself to laugh with the others. They were not yet touched by any suspicions.
She was struck by the thought of alien figures prying about Rosings and Hunsford, bribing servants to reveal secrets of their mistress and her doings. From there to the revelation of the dispute that had occurred with Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy at Rosings, seemed an inevitable and terrifying conclusion. As the uproar had originated in gossip, one of the servants was bound to whisper. She thought with alarm of Margaret, Charlotte's housemaid. The thought of her highly admiring attitude at his entering filled her with dismay. That girl would not forget the incident. She was a very young person and certainly not averse to the scheme of being bribed. Just imagine her telling of Mr. Darcy's visit with her alone! Holy Jesus! Once into the open, it would create a mighty eruption, given that he was an object of such keen public interest. How he would hate it! The papers in England were famous for their lack of restraint in dealing with members of the nobility. Elizabeth shuddered in dismay, for the first time wholly in agreement with the 'hero'.
The post arrived and with it several letters for Mr. Bennet, which he took with him to his study. Becoming hot, cold, and ill, Elizabeth had felt never more dreadful in her life before. Every moment threatened a letter from Mr. Collins to sail into the house, in which he would feel obliged to make her father familiar with certain scenes he had witnessed. This brought her to mind that Charlotte awaited a long-promised letter but she found not the energy to bring herself so far as to write it.
As Mr. Bingley had announced, his sister and the Hursts arrived in time for the afternoon visit with their usual fanfare. The sisters declared their delight with the upcoming nuptials but Elizabeth thought them insincere and exaggerated as ever. Jane took their congratulations with good humour in the knowledge that she was obliged only to make the brother happy, not the sisters. To Elizabeth's relief her mother refrained from too much overflowing exaltation. Having one daughter engaged seemed after all some consolation for her nerves and it was hopefully of long duration.
The ladies of Longbourn were invited to tea the day after, and in one week's time the family to dinner at Netherfield. Mr. Darcy's engagement was only shortly referred to, whereupon Miss Bingley declared briefly and in a voice that brook no opposition that it had been sufficient for her that the Guardian had apologized and what should that be otherwise than the truth? Such an important man like Mr. Darcy with everything in his favour should have a right to decide on his own whom he chooses to marry. Elizabeth meant to perceive that Miss Bingley was slightly distracted while she spoke but it could be her imagination. After a half hour, the lady and her sister fled back to Netherfield, relieved for having done their duty.
The first week of Elizabeth's return had been the last of the regiment's stay in Meryton, and all the young ladies in the neighbourhood were drooping apace, the dejection almost universal. The elder Miss Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink, and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. Very frequently did Kitty and Lydia, whose own misery was extreme, and who could not comprehend such hard-heartedness in any of the family, reproach them for their insensibility.
Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the last time, and she was not heartbroken. Having been frequently in company with him since her return, the agitation was pretty well over and the agitations of former partiality entirely so. On the last day of the regiment's remaining at Meryton, he dined with others of the officers at Longbourn. Maria Lucas, indeed, had been able to hold her tongue and no word had been spread of his unworthiness; the neighbourhood was ignorant of it.
Elizabeth, though glad that this awkwardness was spared her, was little disposed to part from him in good humour. As he made some inquiry as to the manner in which the weeks had passed at Hunsford, as he had heard that Mr. Darcy visited at the same time, she mentioned that also Colonel Fitzwilliam had spent three weeks at Rosings and asked him if he was acquainted with him.
For a moment he looked surprised, displeased, alarmed and after he confessed it to be true, they conversed briefly about the colonel's amiable disposition and polite manners, which led inevitably to Mr. Darcy's lack thereof. As Elizabeth with secret delight acquainted him with her new and better estimation of that gentleman, Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated look. For a few moments he was silent, until, shaking off his embarrassment, he turned to her and said,
"You, who so well know my feelings towards Mr. Darcy, will readily comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is evidently not the gentleman that he believes himself to be, or he would not have dumped his cousin in the manner he did. Here you can see that he is in his dealings as unscrupulous with his family as he had been with me, though even I am amazed at his daring. Until now, he was wise enough to assume even the appearance of what is right. I fear that the sort of respect to which you have alluded, was merely adopted on his visits to his aunt to hoodwink her into believing him the obedient nephew. Lady Catherine has tried to forestall him; too late, we see. Poor woman. He has finally shown his true colours. It is a pity the Lady never knew his real character; she could herself have spared the humiliation."
Elizabeth smiled at this but answered only by a slight inclination of the head. The rest of the evening passed with the appearance of usual cheerfulness on his side but with no further attempt to distinguish her, and they parted at last with mutual civility and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again.
Posted on Sunday, 19 December 2004
He is the kind of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything that he condescends to ask.
Mr. Bennet to Lizzy, Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 60
After some days without any mention of Mr. Darcy in the papers, only that he was seen in Hyde Park and at one of the theatres with his sister and Miss de Bourgh, Elizabeth's tension finally lessened. The regiment had left Meryton and Lydia pouted about the house. Not capable of sensible employment, she and Kitty spent their days running to Mrs. Philips to bemoan their loss in more appreciative company. Elizabeth spent her days outdoors as much as possible as the weather at the end of May was rendered warmer. Jane's wedding was foremost in the family's mind, the wedding date fixed for late June.
Mrs. Bennet, Jane and Mary sat in the parlour discussing a trip to London for other fashionable items they thought necessary when Mr. Bingley arrived. He was heartily welcomed and seated himself as usual by Jane while inquiries after the health of the family came forth hither and thither. No, his sisters would not follow him today but would stay in Netherfield and prepare for the dinner tomorrow. Given a cup of tea from Jane, he became uncommonly silent, even absentminded, secretly observed from Jane but Elizabeth's entering distracted from asking. She supplied Elizabeth, whose face was flushed from the walk, with another cup.
Elizabeth, pleased, sipped it contently and after a while noticed Mr. Bingley's fidgeting. Getting curious, she watched him over the rim and, indeed, as their eyes met, she instantly suspected that he knew everything. She blushed, looked away and scolded herself for being obsessed. How should he know? She dared not ask if he had heard from his friend lest she evoke undue interest. The next moment she stole a look at him she saw him concentrating on Jane in his usual cheerful manner and making suggestions to the ladies' plans for going to London for shopping.
The afternoon went pleasantly enough until Elizabeth was summoned by the butler to join her father in the library. With her head full of lace, ribbons and colours for her bridesmaid's gown, she went hither. Believing to find only her father in the room, the sight of the figure standing by the mantelpiece hit her unprepared.
"Sir!" she stammered, retracting two steps in total confusion while her heart leapt to her throat. Mr. Darcy bowed politely. "Miss Bennet, I hope you are well." His eyes mirrored a little smile on his lips, but beneath his calmness lurked a certain tension. His handsome figure was quite unfamiliar in this setting, his tallness dwarfing the room. With unsteady limbs and a strongly beating heart, she managed a courtesy and a feeble, "Thank you, sir, I am quite well."
Now it should have been her turn to ask how his sister was but some paper sheets in her father's hands distracted her and she forgot all about it. Gripped by a nasty foresight, she stared at the sheets, and forgetting herself in the progress, whispered, "Holy Jesus."
"Yes, well, you may appeal to all saints my child but before so please read this article. I see that you are not ignorant on the matter," her father said with grim friendliness. He allowed her to sit at his desk. Carefully, she took the paper and smoothed the surface. It was today's edition of the Courier brought to Longbourn by Mr. Darcy. Under the well-known headline Mr. Darcy's Secret, which caused her to steal a quick look at the man, she read with alarm,
'Can we believe it? Is it possible that Mr. D., at all times nothing less than an example of strong and genteel reserve, conceals a nice little secret? Can his denial of being engaged to his cousin have ulterior motives? As a little bird has twittered, there was preceding his departure from Kent, of which we have reported, a quarrel to be witnessed in the House of de B. involving Mr. D., his aunt Lady de B. and a young lady, a gentleman's daughter from Hertfordshire.' Elizabeth moaned but read on. 'This mysterious woman visited a nearby family at the same time. If we can believe the rumours, said family was invited to R. several times and during his stay , our hero has obviously called often on them. Moreover, he has been seen a few times walking in the park with the young lady. It is even said that on one occasion he visited her while the family took tea elsewhere. Only hearsay, we are sure. The next day the dispute with her ladyship arose and both suddenly left for London. Who is this mysterious apparition? Where does he hide her?'
The letters twirled before her eyes and she looked up, shocked. As she dared not cast a look in the direction of the other gentleman, she blinked at her father who, oddly enough, was lost in a quiet examination of him. The man, himself, gazed at Elizabeth with concerned eyes to see how she bore it. She let out a breath, squared her shoulders and recalled - with difficulty, nonetheless - her innocence in the affair.
"And now?" she breathed.
"Yes, my child, what now," said her father and began to pace the room, worried beyond measure. "As much as I would like to put the blame on Mr. Darcy or an unpredictable fate and as much as I believe you wholly innocent in the affair, the hounds are loose and there will not pass many hours ere they sniffle about Longbourn. Mr. Darcy has come hither immediately to inform and warn us. He has told me the whole of the history about your staying in Kent together and although I blame him for some unmindful behaviour, I fear the disaster our cousin and his aunt have evoked is not to be avoided anymore."
Elizabeth's head whirred; so, Mr. Darcy had informed her father about everything; but what did he say? Mr. Bennet was in agony. She felt it in her heart and did not dare to raise her eyes, her heart filled with apprehension. The visitor examined, with grave expression, the offending article but said no word.
Mr. Bennet continued, "Mr. Darcy and I have had a long, and I might say illuminating, conversation. I confess myself amazed and ashamed at how blind we have been, in so many ways, to certain incidents in the past especially regarding Mr. Wickham's relationship with him. Yes, child, you look astonished. As it seems, Mr. Darcy is not the ogre we thought him to be. His coming hither shows that he is capable of more decent feelings than we have credited him with. Though there is, admittedly, some guilt to blame on him, he need not have exerted himself to such an extent."
Elizabeth heard it with astonishment. She fixed her eyes on the man in question but his face remained unreadable. He observed father and daughter in quiet sombreness. Her father's praise of him for his coming to Hertfordshire barely answered the exertion it had required, thought she, there must be more to the subject.
Mr. Bennet put a chair in front of his daughter, seated himself and took her hands in his. She could not but feel the import of the moment and her keenest curiosity was awakened. "My child," he began hesitantly, "I must confront you with an earnest and significant problem. Mr. Darcy has made a suggestion that could perform as a means to stop the whole disaster and cut off its sharpest edge."
"Yes?" Elizabeth asked, feeling somewhat akin to panic.
Her father and Mr. Darcy exchanged a glance and the latter inclined his head imperceptibly. This all seemed rather odd to her. In addition to this, Mr. Bennet eyed his daughter with an expression of compassion in his countenance and even traces of tears in his eyes. He continued, "Mr. Darcy is of the opinion -- and I support him therein -- that the scandal and the rumours about you would come at an end if it became public that before the announcement there was already another engagement in existence that was merely held under seal because of some formal matters ... such as obtaining the father's permission..."
Mr. Bennet captured the hands of his daughter who, pale as a sheet, would have jumped from the chair. He gently persuaded her to sit down again. "I know this comes as a shock, Elizabeth, but yes, I mean you. Please hear me out."
While Elizabeth blinked in stunned silence, believing she had not heard properly, she dared not look at Mr. Darcy who had risen and taken refuge at the mantelpiece, watching her.
Her father continued, "If Mr. Darcy had already been engaged prior to the announcement, the announcement could be termed a fake in truth and no one would expect him to break his former engagement in order to answer the commands of his aunt or the obligation to his cousin. According to this, your being seen together in Kent then appears as utterly honourable. No gossip whatsoever can put you into a scandalous position. What do you think? - And let me say that I dare not speculate, my dear child, what happens if we remain silent."
Elizabeth found breathing difficult. The subject aroused implications that stormed painfully in her bosom. She, Elizabeth Bennet, engaged to Mr. Darcy - impossible! Yet, it would not do for her name to be spread about in the papers. Had it been otherwise, had the exigency not arisen, her father would not so readily have given his consent to an engagement, of this she was sure.
Observing her intently, Mr. Darcy requested from Mr. Bennet a word alone with his daughter, and as with her consent her father left the room, she felt that both men shared more than they would willingly care to confess. There seemed a secret agreement between them or her father would not have quitted the room so eagerly. Elizabeth was alarmed, intrigued, curious, and it is imaginable how the prospect of becoming Mr. Darcy's fiancée disturbed her; but, strange to say, the panic lessened. Was it lulled into submission by all the secret wishes whispering in her heart? But what of him?
The man began to walk about the room in a manner that showed him in full command of his faculties. He searched for the right words and Elizabeth watched him silently and with a rapidly beating heart, torn by uncertainty. Suddenly, he swung round and faced her. "Miss Bennet, do you find me unpleasant?"
Elizabeth, caught unawares, hesitated. She had known Mr. Darcy for more than half a year and for most of that time, she had thought him unpleasant. Her wavering produced some dark clouds on his brow and she hastened to answer in the negative; all her former prejudices had faded away in the face of Mr. Wickham's deceitfulness - and caused by his altered behaviour; but that was no item she could disclose.
"Do you harbour tender feelings for that villain?" he asked imperiously.
"Is this supposed to be an inquisition or are we supposed to untangle this mess," she retorted, irritated by the sharpness in his voice.
To her amazement, he burst out laughing but stifled it immediately. Shaking his head he said with a barely suppressed smile, "You are incorrigible, Miss Elizabeth, but you are in the right. Though, please answer my questions in earnest. I would not wish to live with the uncertainty. As you can well imagine, there are not many things I do not begrudge Wickham."
"Mr. Wickham is not in the fortunate position to be the recipient of my tender feelings," declared Elizabeth somewhat stilted.
He smiled at her choice of words and eyed her stubborn face with secret pleasure. "And is there someone who is in the fortunate position?" As this question was not easily answered, Elizabeth lowered her lashes, blushed and shook her head.
He took a deep breath, collected himself, and began, "Miss Bennet, now that you have declared there are no tender impediments to our intended union, I feel indeed relieved. Please accept for the hundredth time my apology for this agglomeration of unfortunate circumstances caused by my thoughtlessness. You are aware what difficulties are on the horizon and if you assent to an engagement, we will be able to avoid greater inconveniences. Both our reputations are at stake, you can save mine and I yours. If we appear to the world as formally betrothed before the announcement was published, their interest will lessen, though I cannot promise they will not pay attention to my person and to you in the future. As a member of my class, I am unfortunately, in some ways, a public person. Until now, I have avoided such open displays when possible but as a man with a position and fortune and without marital strings attached to me, I am the object of more than a few interested individuals. As much as I despise such embroilments, they are facts and must be dealt with. But the news of my former engagement will lessen the scandal in the end, I hope." He stopped, faced her and added with a grin, never witnessed by Elizabeth for its slyness, "And believe me, Miss Bennet, if I must be engaged, better to you than to any other lady."
That was the longest speech Elizabeth ever had heard from Mr. Darcy and the cheeky end of it was expressed with a spirit she had not expected in him. As she watched him, she could not but feel the self-assurance emanating from him in contrast to the awkwardness of the situation. He was a man fully in command of himself, confident and purposeful.
That would not do. 'Time to crack his armour a bit', whispered Elizabeth's little devil. "Sir, there is surely in my heart a high respect for the confidence you bestow on me and for your willingness to protect my reputation but what about later? We cannot be engaged without end."
He faltered, seemed perplexed. "Pardon me? Miss Bennet, I think we marry!"
Elizabeth, in all her inner uproar never having thought that far, jumped up and stammered aghast and completely unaware of her choice of words. "Marry? We? You cannot mean, in earnest, that I am supposed to marry you?" hereby uttering the last words with total disbelief.
He became heavily affronted; in fact, he was deeply injured. "Nobody can force you to marry me, Miss Bennet. If you prefer to be dragged through the scandal sheets indefinitely, then go on. If you prefer to end the engagement later - make me a laughingstock - go on. Maybe, I will first dump..." He checked himself with difficulty and cried half laughing, half angry, "Heavens, I cannot believe that I said such nonsense. You disconcert me with your attitude!"
Now Elizabeth, bewildered, kept silent.
He resumed his pacing at a higher speed, all irritation. "And why are you against marrying me? I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am about to be rejected."
She eyed him squarely and boldly said, "And I might wonder why you seem to presume we should marry without - as you so fittingly have described - some tender feelings? If I am not wrong, just at the beginning of our conversation, you have granted them some small importance."
All his fire had left him as he stood there and looked at Elizabeth, who could not but note dejection hidden behind his studied aloofness. Was it thinkable that he harboured more tender feelings for her than she had thought possible and that he thought she had none? If that was the case, she truly had hurt him and she was at a loss how to make amends without yielding too much. However, considering the facts and all things measured, there was no denying the pleasure sparkling up in her heart. She saw him struggling for composure and waited in awed silence, her face bland.
"You could give us a chance, Miss Bennet."
Elizabeth resolved to put him further to the test. "But, sir, consider your family. Your aunt is but a foretaste, I may presume. And it is not certain that being your wife and mistress of your estate would suit me or add to the honour of your position in society." Certainly, it was not to say that she wholly believed her own words, so she stole a look at him to see how he responded and with secret pleasure found him looking exasperated and impatient.
"Miss Bennet, my family you can leave to my lot. I will never, ever, permit any abuse on your person; my former actions in that respect should have spoken for themselves by now. And for the honour of my position in society, I believe you are fishing for compliments. Therefore, I will not deign to go into detail with it," was his answer. "And why should being Mistress of Pemberley not suit you? You have an agile, intelligent mind, you are warm, witty and beautiful, you can see beauty when it is before you, and you have me to guide you." He took a steadying breath. "I am a man with many responsibilities and I am convinced you are a woman I can share them with and gladly so. I am also vain enough to guess that my outer appearance is not repulsive to you."
Taken aback, Elizabeth stared, in blushing amazement, at this wholly unknown Mr. Darcy as if seeing him for the first time. To meet a man willing to share responsibilities with his wife was indeed rare in polite society but such a man to detect in haughty Mr. Darcy - whose appearance indeed did not repulse her at all - was beyond comprehension. The compliment warmed him to her. She was tempted, affected, moved.
Mr. Darcy, expectantly looking at her, saw it. He was nothing if not clever. He approached her and said with barely suppressed insistence, "Anyway, our arguments are futile because I have not even asked you. Miss Bennet, will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?"
When Elizabeth later remembered this extraordinary moment, she could not bring to mind thinking anything of significance. Her thoughts were windblown and too many implications of the future loomed on the horizon to let them all rush in wildly. She had, foremost, to be herself again. The first sensation penetrating her numbness were his hands that somehow had found hers, their warmth and comfort, belonging to a human being, male, unfamiliar and bewildering. Standing close to him, she could perceive the heavy rise and fall of his chest and suddenly felt an overwhelming tug thither.
That would not do. With fierce determination, she collected her scattered senses and in next to no time, she was ready to throw her last charge, hereby not daring to meet his eyes, "You will have a charming mother-in-law -- and several well-behaved new sisters..."
She did not see his smile but heard it in his voice. "Miss Bennet, I am willing to conquer the obstacles as they come when I have you to guide me."
In the evidence of so much faith, her knees went weak and as she now comprehended that she was not averse to the scheme at all, she took refuge in a fit of propriety, lest she throw herself at him. She curtsied demurely while saying, "Thank you, Mr. Darcy, I feel honoured and I accept."
She kept her eyes averted as any blushing young lady freshly engaged should do, so the look of heartfelt delight diffused over his face escaped her but his deep intake of breath and the painful squeeze of his hands startled her nonetheless. Though never been earnestly in love before, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was female enough to secretly wallow in triumph at having a man at her mercy. That it was the powerful Mr. Darcy was enough to stir a certain feeling of satisfaction in her breast. However, Elizabeth would not have been Elizabeth to allow feelings that were so strange and so new rush in head over heels. They must be examined first and that she must do in solitude.
Mr. Darcy broke the silence by daring to declare warmly and with all the power of a man possessed, "I hope, no, I am sure, Miss Bennet, that in the future I will be in the fortunate position of being the recipient of your tender feelings."
Elizabeth swallowed his statement with another blush then answered with a timid smile and a proper curtsey, "I hope so, sir. I believe it is a pleasure for every young lady to become engaged ... to a hero."