On their arrival in town, Georgiana greeted Darcy and Fitzwilliam.
After enquiring about Lady Catherine and the health of her cousin Anne, Georgiana was soon in conversation with Fitzwilliam about their plans to visit his elder brother in Essex, where a new addition to his family had recently arrived.
“Your sister is getting to be like all ladies—too happy to talk about babies and small children all day if you give them the chance!” said Fitzwilliam cheerfully. “It is just as well that I shall be able to escape to the park with my brother from time to time.”
“You are unkind,” said Georgiana, smiling at Darcy, “for I am sure that the baby’s mother would be very distressed if I did not take an interest. And in any case, I can be useful in helping to keep the elder little boy occupied. Otherwise, that task might fall to cousin Fitzwilliam!”
Fitzwilliam did not seem too worried by this possibility, but Darcy was amused by the exchange, and reflected that, at least amongst people she knew well, his sister was becoming much more confident about taking her part in conversation. To date, her shyness had perhaps appeared to some who did not know her well as indifference, or pride.
That rapidly brought him to the thought that the same could be said about himself, and to the conversation he had in the drawing room at Rosings with Miss Bennet and Fitzwilliam.
What had he said then—
“We neither of us perform to strangers.”
That certainly applied to himself; but to her?
His mind wandered on to Miss Bennet’s rejection of his suit, and her words then.
“I might as well enquire why with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil?”
That had been a hard thrust for a man to accept who had always prided himself on his propriety of address.
“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.”
“From the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others ...I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”
“You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”
Oh, what painful recollections these were.
“Darcy! You are not listening to a word I am saying!” cried his cousin.
Darcy came to with a start.
“I beg your pardon,” he replied. “What did you want me to do?”
Fitzwilliam looked at him quizzically before repeating,
“Georgiana would enjoy a drive in the park tomorrow before luncheon, now that she has a choice of escort. Which of us is to go with her in the curricle?”
“You should go, for I shall have other opportunities to talk to her another day, when you must be elsewhere,” said Darcy.
After this, he was aware during the meal that Fitzwilliam was observing him closely, and he endeavoured to make pleasant conversation to both his companions. They were, after all, the people in the world most dear to him.
Or, at least, had been until he had met a lady with very fine eyes and a lively manner who...
Darcy took a grip on himself again, and succeeded in concentrating his attention on Georgiana and Fitzwilliam for the rest of the day.
On the following morning, when his sister and their cousin had gone for their drive in the park, Darcy went into the library.
Sitting down at his desk, he closed his eyes. A conversation at Netherfield came to his mind, with Miss Elizabeth Bennet present. What had Bingley said?
“I declare—I do not know a more aweful object than Darcy, on particular occasions and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening when he has nothing to do.”
He had not cared for the remarks then, and had been glad that Miss Bennet had not laughed at him.
But now, except for the time of day, they seemed all too accurate. It appeared that in company he was likely to betray his preoccupation with recent events to those who knew him well and, when alone, he was condemned to relive those same events, moment by moment.
What had he said to Miss Elizabeth in the drawing room at Netherfield?
“My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost for ever.”
But what of hers?
This was a wretched state of affairs. Darcy was not used to reviewing his own conduct critically, and certainly not with any possibility of taking a different view of himself from before.
His thoughts wandered to what the effect of his letter might have been. Even if Elizabeth Bennet was no longer deceived about the character of Mr. Wickham, even if she accepted his opinion of the unsuitability of her connections, of the conduct of her mother, had the manner of his address been so offensive? He wished that he could know what she was thinking, where she was at that moment, anything that might make him feel more at ease with himself.
She was to be in Kent for one more week, he knew, and then was to join her sister Jane in town for a few days before they travelled home to Hertfordshire.
But that knowledge could avail him nothing. He must learn not to care where or how she was.
These and many other unhappy thoughts continued to trouble Darcy over the days and weeks that followed.
His anxiety to justify what he had said to Elizabeth Bennet, to maintain to himself the correctness of his approach, did not long survive. He soon began to examine and re-examine every part of what he had said, every manner of expression he had used, on that fateful evening in Kent.
There seemed to be no escape from his uneasiness and confusion, which troubled him at every time of day, and wherever he was.
Avoiding as he often did the social round in town, and unable to visit Bingley’s house in the country, Darcy was tempted many times to leave for Pemberley and the peace of Derbyshire.
But Georgiana was busy with her music masters in London, and he had not the heart to deprive her of his company without any real excuse, until she went to visit his cousin’s family in Essex. It was some comfort to be with his sister, who was so dear to him. In any case, it seemed very doubtful whether he would gain any more peace of mind by leaving town.
On several occasions, when he was lost in thought, he caught Georgiana looking at him carefully, but she said nothing. Finally, one evening when they were alone, his sister asked him hesitantly, “Is there anything particular troubling you at the moment? I should so like to be of use if there is. You are always thinking of me, and I should like to help you in return.”
She coloured as she spoke, as though he might reprimand her, or speak in rebuff.
Darcy was not sure for a moment how best to reply.
For many years an only child, he had been accustomed to being without a confidant where the affairs of the heart were concerned. Until now, Georgiana had always been very much his younger sister, someone for him to protect rather than to share his problems with.
“I am not sure how to answer you,” he said slowly. “It is a matter of...affection, about someone to whom I would have given no attention previously. Although I do not find our aunt Lady Catherine easy company, I have always shared her view that it is of primary importance to marry well, to seek an alliance with someone of our own consequence. Do you not agree?”
He was surprised to see that she looked very shaken.
Then she said, “Are you referring to Mr. Wickham? To what happened last year, before I had the benefit of your advice?”
“No, no, of course not,” he said quickly, anxious to reassure her.
“You were sadly misled, and in any case you had, to begin with, no one, no mother, no one, to turn to.”
His sister looked very relieved. Darcy went on, finding himself more comfortable than he had expected in being able to speak to someone about his agony of mind.
“No, I will be honest with you, I am thinking of my own situation. Georgiana, you do understand how important social position and family matters are to me?”
“Too much reliance on that does not often seem to lead to happiness,” Georgiana said, reflectively. “I would hope that you would marry someone you find congenial. You do not often seem to find people you admire in town, nor when you went to Hertfordshire, from what you said to me before. Is that not so? And even those people whom you seem to prefer can be very,” she paused, “sharp, like Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.”
Darcy looked at her in surprise, for his sister had not ventured this opinion to him previously with such clarity.
It was perhaps because he had begun to share her view about Bingley’s sisters, after their comments on Miss Elizabeth Bennet in Hertfordshire, that he decided to tell her something of the truth.
“Perhaps you can help me, for I am very troubled in my mind. Whilst I was at Rosings with cousin Fitzwilliam, I met again a lady, a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, whose family come from Hertfordshire, near the house that Charles Bingley took on lease last Michaelmas.
“I realised then that I . . . liked her very much better than many people I have met. Miss Bennet is one of the few people I could rely on to...to keep a secret of mine. But her family are not superior, particularly her mother, her mother’s family and her younger sisters.
“I met her again because she was visiting her close friend Charlotte Lucas, who has married the rector at Hunsford.” Darcy stopped, for he could not bring himself to go as far as saying that he himself had then proposed marriage.
Then he went on, “I spoke to her more ...plainly... than I now think that I should have done, about the importance of connections and social position in marriage. And there were other things on which we disagreed.”
“I know that you would like her. She is not only lovely, and amiable, but she is also lively, accomplished in singing and dancing, and plays the piano-forte with pleasure. In truth, I like her very well indeed.”
“But how important are her connections, and how can I commend myself to her, in the unlikely event that we should ever meet again?”
The way in which he spoke, with more feeling than she had ever heard him, confirmed to Georgiana that her brother must have said many things that he now regretted.
Georgiana replied slowly, “I am not at all experienced in the ways of the world, as you are. But it seems to me that people are of good breeding if they behave in a genteel manner, are thoughtful and considerate, and not because of who they are, or because they are always proud of how much money or consequence they possess.”
She went on, “I know that you and I are well provided for, so surely we do not have to seek a fortune as cousin Fitzwilliam says that he must. I know that he may be jesting, at least a little, but you have this house, and Pemberley, and a great estate, and...”
Her courage then began to fail Georgiana, and her voice trailed away, as she began to think that she had said too much.
Her brother had turned and was deep in thought for some minutes.
Then he looked back at her and said, “I believe that you are right. Manners are important, but only if they are genuine. How I wish that I had talked with you before, for I may have said and done things that I may never be able to change, and shall always regret.”
Georgiana paused for a moment in case he said anything further.
When he did not, she said softly, “You can not be sure of that. Perhaps the best guide is to treat people, everyone you meet, with the politeness and consideration with which you would wish them to treat you?”
He looked at her in surprise, for this was indeed a novel thought for him.
He could not stop himself saying “Everyone?”
She did not reply, but looked at him steadily.
Darcy then said, “I understand you, but I fear that it may be too late. I do wish that you had been able to meet her.”
And with that, he left the room, leaving his sister to wonder what she could do to ease his evident distress.
The subject was not discussed between them any further, but Darcy tried no longer to justify to himself the manner in which he had spoken to Miss Bennet in Kent.
What at the time had seemed to be his proper concern at the inferiority of her connections, the degradation which an alliance with her family would bring, his satisfaction that the concerns he had expressed were natural and just, now seemed hollow, a convenience, to conceal his own insecurity, and feelings of inadequacy in company.
His confidence in the reasons that had led him to separate Bingley from her sister likewise came to diminish, to be an echo of his desire not to measure people by their real worth, to take comfort in social position rather than in genuine character and goodness.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s words to him on that afternoon at Hunsford came back so often to torture him.
“ . . . your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others . . .”
It was a measure of how much Darcy’s view of himself had altered that he now questioned how he would have felt if she had used similar sentiments in speaking to him?
Darcy began to realise that, even if everything he had said to Miss Bennet had been well founded, the way he had expressed himself must have alienated her.
He feared now that his letter, which at the time he had thought had been composed calmly and in order to rectify her errors of knowledge, could only have increased the unfortunate effect of his words. He had thought that he had been rational and measured. Now his recollection was of his dreadful bitterness of spirit at rejection, when he had been so certain of success, of his desire then to demonstrate his superior position in society, and use her family circumstances and connections to denigrate her further.
Thus Darcy tortured himself over many days.
Worst of all was the knowledge that Wickham’s regiment was still stationed at Meryton. Elizabeth Bennet was likely to have every chance to be subject to his insidious charms and persuasions.
Although, in more rational moments, Darcy doubted whether his childhood companion would ever consider marriage to someone who could bring with her as little fortune as Elizabeth Bennet, that gave him no ease compared to the daily opportunities he imagined Wickham having to touch her heart and reinforce the feelings of, at the very least, compassion that she clearly felt for him. He could only hope that she gave some recognition to the intelligence about “that gentleman” as he had set out in his letter.
Georgiana, he knew, found him uncommunicative and distracted and, for her sake, he endeavoured to appear more cheerful than he felt.
When he was with his sister, he succeeded in putting Elizabeth Bennet out of his mind for much of the time. But elsewhere, and particularly through the long sleepless nights, she was never far from his thoughts.
He often had in his mind what Miss Bennet had said to Fitzwilliam at Rosings,
“Shall we ask your cousin... shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers?”
And he recalled Fitzwilliam’s reply,
“It is because he will not give himself the trouble.”
How much he would give now to have the opportunity to take all the trouble in the world, if it would gain him the affections of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
In due time, his sister travelled with Fitzwilliam to see their cousin, the Earl’s elder son, and his young family in Essex, leaving Darcy in town to await the arrival of Bingley and his sisters. One afternoon soon after, when Darcy was just re-turned from visiting his attorney, an unexpected visitor called, carrying a message from Lady Catherine. It was Mrs. Collins, who explained that she was in town to execute some commissions for herself and for his aunt.
She told him that Lady Catherine had recently travelled to Bath in the hope of bringing some improvement in the health of her daughter by taking the waters at the Cross Bath. His aunt had written to Mrs. Collins to say that their arrival to stay off Laura Place had, as was only right and proper, been included prominently in the list of new visitors for that week in the Bath Chronicle. Anne’s condition would not permit them to attend a gathering in the Assembly Rooms, but they had been to a concert in the Pump Room. They had walked in the Sydney Gardens, where they had seen the canal recently built as part of the link between the rivers Kennet and Avon, and they hoped to be able to make an excursion in their carriage into the country round about the city.
Rather than take her daughter home thereafter, his aunt was planning to visit town for a few days before travelling on to Rosings, and had asked Mrs. Collins to tell her nephew of her intention. Darcy was surprised to learn of this, as Lady Catherine usually considered that the polluting air and exposure to too much society in London were injurious to Anne’s health. He recollected suddenly his aunt’s comments just before he had left Rosings, and asked his visitor whether she knew of any reason why his cousin would be making such a rare visit to town.
Mrs. Collins, looking rather embarrassed, said something had been mentioned, only in passing of course, about the possibility of a marriage for Anne. He did not reply directly, but changed the subject, to talk for a time of the commissions that she had to carry out in town.
He dared not ask after the one person he wished to hear of by name directly, but said “Do you have good news of your friends in Meryton?”
Mrs. Collins acknowledged that she had.
“Mr. Collins is not with you?” he tried next.
“No, Sir, his duties would not permit that. However, before she left for Bath, Lady Catherine had most graciously said that, since I agreed to carry this letter for you, I might use the second chaise as far as the turnpike.”
Darcy said that he was glad of that, as some recompense for her trouble.
Hoping to prompt her to some recollection of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he went on to recall the last time they had met in Hertfordshire, at her father’s house, and then at the ball at Netherfield. Happily for him, this had the desired effect.
“Yes, Sir, I recall us speaking together at the ball, and your dancing with my friend Elizabeth. She has such a facility for that pastime.”
After a pause, she added more thoughtfully, “I myself have few opportunities now to dance in Kent. But I acknowledge that there are many other consolations.”
Darcy recalled what a young lady of his acquaintance from Hertfordshire had said about the marriage between Mr. Collins and the former Miss Charlotte Lucas,
“his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her.”
Darcy again thanked her for her trouble in calling, and asked his coachman to take Mrs. Collins to Bond Street, where she could purchase some of the commissions for his aunt.
When she had gone, he reflected that, in his present state of mind, he could not think of anyone he wished to see less than Lady Catherine, and the more so if she wished to pursue her plans for an alliance with his cousin Anne. But he needed an excuse to be absent from London for a few days.
Thus it was that he surprised both his sister and his cousin Fitzwilliam in finding a sudden delight in joining them and renewing his acquaintance with the landscape in Essex, as well as in congratulating his cousin the Viscount and his young wife personally on the recent addition to their family.
By the time Darcy was back in town, a week in advance of his sister, Lady Catherine had travelled on to Kent, leaving behind her a note that left little doubt of her displeasure at not seeing him during her stay in London.
Bingley now also returned to stay in town.
It did not take Darcy long to realise that his friend was still not in the best of spirits. Although he dare not ask him why, it was not difficult to guess. He knew full well that Bingley’s separation from Miss Jane Bennet might be the cause of his distress.
He had much more sympathy with Bingley on this occasion than previously, when his friend had bestowed his affections on other young ladies. There can, Darcy admitted to himself, be no better way of appreciating the sufferings of those whose hearts have really been touched by love than having the same affliction yourself.
The arrival of Bingley’s sisters at Grosvenor Street with Mr. Hurst two days later did little to cheer Darcy.
He was already regretting the invitation that he had extended to them earlier in the year to join his party at Pemberley for a few weeks. He had little patience now for Miss Bingley’s pretensions and, as far as possible, he avoided seeing both sisters, encouraging Bingley to visit them at Mr. Hurst’s house. However, he could not now go back on his invitation. At least they would only be at Pemberley for a few weeks before travelling on to Scarborough.
He was suddenly wild to get back to Derbyshire and the familiar pleasures there. However, since Georgiana was to travel with him, he had to wait a few more days before she returned from Essex and they could set off with Bingley, his sisters and Mr. Hurst.
On the second day of their journey, the party reached the town where he and Georgiana usually stayed overnight, and which was only a few hours’ journey from Pemberley. The Hursts’ carriage had been troublesome, with one of the wheels being far from secure, and it was agreed that it would be better for the carriage to take the last part of the journey very slowly.
He knew that there would be business to attend to at Pemberley with his steward. At the Inn, there was an urgent message sent by the post waiting for him.
Accordingly, Darcy decided to ride on alone with his groom the next day, leaving his sister to travel with Bingley and Mrs. Annesley in his own chaise, and the rest of the party with Mr. Hurst.
“You may need,” said Darcy to his friend the following morning before he left, “to go more slowly and stay another night on the way, if that will enable the other carriage to reach my estate without further mishap.”
A few hours later, Darcy rode across the fields and entered the park around Pemberley.
He turned his mount towards the valley leading down the side of the woods, where he knew that he would catch his first sight of the house.
It was one of his favourite rides within the grounds, with the trees as a backcloth to the vista across the lake. Now, in July, the green of the woods was at its best against the colour of the sky.
In those few days at Rosings when he had hoped to bring Elizabeth Bennet to Derbyshire as his bride, he had dreamt of them walking together across that same grass. How briefly that happy reverie had lasted. How much pain and distress had tortured him since April.
Darcy rode down the slope, along the drive and into the stable yard at the back of the house. The stableboy looked surprised as his master came into view, and explained why he had arrived in advance of the rest of the party. Leaving his horse to be unsaddled, Darcy walked slowly through the arch into the garden at the side, and went to turn towards the house.
As he came out into the sunlight from the shade of the buildings, he saw a lady walking slowly towards him. There was something familiar about the figure . . .
Then he stopped suddenly, immobile, totally startled.
There in front of him, and from her expression equally surprised, was Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
They were within twenty yards of each other, and their eyes instantly met, the cheeks of each being overspread with the deepest blush.
To begin with, Darcy could not move, could not speak, he was so taken by surprise. Then he forced himself to recover sufficiently to draw closer. Walking forward until he was a few feet from her, he tried to speak calmly as he enquired about her health, and then that of her family.
Before he began, she took a step as though to move away but, as he addressed her, she turned back and answered him.
In contrast to their last meeting in the parsonage at Hunsford, Miss Bennet hardly looked at him, and her replies to Darcy’s pleasantries were as confused as were his questions to her. Despite his state of mind, he was aware that his enquiries, as to the time of her having left Longbourn, and about her stay in Derbyshire, were so frequent and put in so hurried a manner, as must plainly speak the distraction of his thoughts.
As he spoke, he was conscious of his gardener close by. He was also aware, although less clearly, of a lady and gentleman of fashion a short distance back, as though they might be in company with Miss Bennet.
Eventually, every idea failed him and, after standing a few moments without saying a word, he finally recollected himself. Very conscious that his manner of speaking had none of its usual sedateness, Darcy took his leave of her, bowed, and walked swiftly away.
By the time that he had entered the house, Darcy’s agitation of mind had resolved on only two matters.
First, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was at that moment still within the grounds of Pemberley.
Second, his overwhelming desire was to encounter her again before she left.
As he took the stairs towards his dressing room at a rapid pace, he sent one of his servants to see how far the visitors had gone in walking towards their carriage.
When he had changed from his travel stained clothes a few minutes later, the message had come back that the carriage awaited them still, as the gentleman accompanying the young lady had told the coachman that they were to take the walk by the side of the water. Darcy’s gardener had been asked to act as their guide along the way.
That route led further along the stream towards a fine reach of the woods and onto some of the higher grounds. There, the opening of the trees gave charming views of the valley and the hills opposite with the woods enclosing both sides of the stream. If they had taken the circuit around the lake, that would bring the visitors after some time in a descent back towards the house, past the edge of the water.
Darcy almost ran from the house and took the route in the opposite direction from that the visitors had taken. After a few minutes, he came to the steep walk amidst the rough coppicewood in one of its narrowest parts beyond a bridge. At this point, the twists and turns of the path revealed from time to time the path further along the stream. He walked swiftly on.
Eventually, at one of these glimpses of the route ahead, he caught sight of Miss Bennet and her companions coming slowly along that part of the path towards him. He slowed his pace a little and, as they came nearer, Darcy tried hard to compose himself.
Uppermost in his mind were Miss Bennet’s comments at their last meeting in Kent about his behaviour. He remembered so well what she had said:
“your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others . . .”
He was only too well aware that he might only have this one opportunity to redeem himself in her eyes. He had long since ceased to deceive himself that any other course would secure his own happiness.
When they met, he greeted her with all the civility he could muster.
She responded in equal politeness by beginning to admire the beauty of the place, saying how delightful and charming it was. He was puzzled that she then stopped speaking abruptly, as though in confusion. In this pause, he asked her if she would do him the honour of introducing her two companions, who were standing a little behind her.
He was not quite sure of her expression. She almost smiled, and then said that they were her uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, from Cheapside in London.
Darcy had taken them for people of fashion. But he was quick to greet them. With Miss Bennet and her aunt in front, Darcy turned to walk back towards the way he had come.
He soon found in conversation with Mr. Gardiner that he was a cultivated and intelligent man with pleasant manners and a wide range of interests. He expressed a lively curiosity about country pursuits and, for someone who lived in the city, was unexpectedly well informed about them.
The conversation turning to fishing, Darcy invited Mr. Gardiner to fish there as often as he chose, while he continued in the neighbourhood, and offered to supply him with tackle. As they passed alongside the water, he asked the gardener to point out those parts of the stream where there was usually most sport.
After some time, they reached a part of the path close to the brink of the river, and drew close to the water to inspect a plant. At this moment, Mrs. Gardiner sought her husband’s arm, confessing some fatigue from the exercise of the morning.
Darcy was secretly delighted by this alteration, since it enabled him to take his place by her niece, and they walked on ahead of the others together.
After a short silence, she spoke, wishing him to know that she had been assured of his absence before she came to the place.
“I understand that your arrival had been very unexpected,” she said quickly, “for your housekeeper informed us that you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before we left Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately expected in the country.”
“You are quite right,” he said, half turning to steal a glance at her as he spoke, “for business with my steward had occasioned me coming forward a few hours before the rest of the party.”
“They will join me early tomorrow,” he continued, “and among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with you. They are Mr. Bingley and his sisters.”
Miss Bennet answered only by a slight bow.
At that moment, Darcy knew that he himself coloured, his mind instantly driven back to when Bingley’s name had been last mentioned between them. He dared not look, but surmised that hers might be similarly engaged. They walked on a little in silence, their minds thus occupied. Darcy was anxiously considering whether she might agree to an application from him concerning Georgiana.
“There is also one other person in the party,” he continued after this pause, “who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow me,...or do I ask too much . . . to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?”
She replied to this with what appeared to him to be pleasure, if not ease, and he engaged to bring Georgiana to the inn at Lambton where they were staying as soon as he could, after his sister’s arrival at Pemberley.
They then walked on in silence, soon outstripping the slower pace of her uncle and aunt. When they reached the carriage at the side of the house, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were some way behind.
After another pause, Darcy ventured to ask Miss Bennet whether she would take some refreshment inside the house, for he most dearly wished to show her some aspects that might commend Pemberley to her.
However, she declared herself not tired, and preferring to admire the view.
Again there was silence between them, and so many subjects that he thought to pursue were linked with unhappy memories from the past. At last, Miss Bennet began, rather tentatively, to talk of travelling. Her uncle’s need to return soon to his business had required them to reduce the extent of their journey, which had been intended to take them to the Lakes. But they had seen Blenheim and Chatsworth, as well as Matlock and Dove Dale.
Her aunt, who had lived some years ago in Lambton, had wished to revisit the village, and had then suggested that they should visit Pemberley.
Miss Bennet again repeated that their understanding had been that the family was not at home, or they would not have planned to call at the house. He in turn expressed his pleasure at having the opportunity of renewing their acquaintance, and of meeting her uncle and aunt. This conversation occupied the time well enough until Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner came across the lawn to join them.
Darcy again pressed his visitors to go into the house and take some refreshment; but this was declined, although with the greatest civility.
He then handed the ladies into the carriage and, as it drove off, walked slowly towards the house.
On his way across the hall, he encountered the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds.
“I understand that you have had visitors to see Pemberley today?” he said.
“Yes, Sir. I would not have admitted them if I had known that you were to be at home. But I understood from the young lady that you had met her before. Her aunt told me that she had heard much of you from her niece.”
This was welcome news to Darcy. For Elizabeth Bennet to have spoken of himself, and to have seen something of Pemberley, was what he had wanted to hear.
“There is nothing to regret; indeed, I am very glad that they were able to see the house. The young lady lives near Netherfield, the place that Mr. Bingley took last Michaelmas, in Hertfordshire. As they are staying at Lambton, they may be able to visit us again, once Miss Georgiana has arrived tomorrow.”
In the past, Darcy had prided himself in being able to com-pose his mind in any situation, if only by avoiding those occasions which could disturb him.
It was as well that he had urgent business to discuss with his steward, for otherwise he would have found himself making very little use of the rest of that day.
In particular, he needed to decide how he could detach Georgiana from Bingley’s sisters as soon as might be, so that he could introduce his sister to Miss Bennet.
How much he now wished that he had heeded Georgiana’s reluctance to invite the ladies and Mr. Hurst to accompany Bingley to Derbyshire, even though that had been his practice in the past.
The sooner he could introduce Georgiana to Miss Bennet, the more opportunity he would have to see her during the remainder of her stay in Lambton. He so dearly wished to see her again at Pemberley. How he longed to know whether she might have seen some improvement and softening in his speech and conversation, and an absence of that arrogance, and ability to offend and insult, which she had discerned previously in Kent.
When Darcy recalled his severity in addressing the habits of her family, what irony there now was in discovering the intelligence, manners and good humour of those very relatives from Cheapside that Miss Bingley had ridiculed last winter at Netherfield.
Despite the distractions which he found to occupy him, the rest of the day seemed to take so long to pass, and the night the more so, that on the morrow, it seemed impossible that less than a few hours had elapsed since his sudden encounter with Miss Bennet.
However, he was in a very much more cheerful frame of mind than he had been for several months. It should be possible during Miss Bennet’s stay at Lambton for them to meet on more than one occasion.
Darcy had left Georgiana to travel with Bingley and Mrs. Annesley, with Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Caroline Bingley to follow in Mr. Hurst’s equipage.
It was therefore with some surprise that he saw only his own chaise make its way up the drive towards the house in good time the following morning.
It transpired that the Hursts’ carriage had been delayed by another problem with one of the wheel bearings. The innkeeper at the town where they had spent the night hoped it could be repaired within half a day.
Darcy’s other guests were therefore likely to be coming some hours later.
He wasted no time in taking advantage of this unexpected opportunity. When Bingley went to his room to change soon after their arrival, he went to seek out his sister. He found her examining with delight the new piano-forte that he had purchased, as a surprise present for her arrival at Pemberley.
“Georgiana, I have most welcome news. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the young lady we last spoke of in town, is staying at Lambton with her uncle and aunt. I have said that we will call on them together, once you arrived. Would you be willing to go with me today, once you have had a late breakfast? I should prefer that, rather than wait until tomorrow.”
His sister very readily agreed to this plan, and Darcy then went in search of his friend.
“So you see, Bingley,” he ended in explaining the news about the unexpected visitors from Hertfordshire, “I shall have ample time to make the journey to Lambton with Georgiana and then return before your sisters arrive with Mr. Hurst. Will you excuse us both for a short while?”
“Why, yes, if you insist,” said his friend, “but I would prefer to accompany you, if I may. I should be very happy to see Miss Elizabeth again. It is so long since we last met in Hertfordshire.”
This was not the reply that Darcy had expected, and he deliberated briefly as to what Miss Bennet’s reaction to seeing Bingley might be. He was, after all, the man whom she thought had been too easily persuaded to forget her elder sister.
However, it might be a benefit to the good impression that Darcy sought to create in the lady’s mind for his friend to be eager to see her. Thus it was settled that Bingley should accompany Georgiana and her brother, and they were soon together in the chaise and travelling across the park towards the Lambton gate.
On their arrival at the Inn, Bingley waited below, and Darcy and his sister were taken into the parlour to see the visitors.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were as affable and pleasant as they had been the previous day. Miss Bennet was much quieter than he recalled when they had met in Rosings, but he was glad to see the trouble she took to make conversation with his sister, who shyly endeavoured to play her role. Darcy wondered if the visitor was thinking of the contrast between Georgiana’s unassuming and gentle manner and what she had thought of his own in Kent.
Darcy asked if his friend might join them, and was glad to see nothing but pleasure in Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s expression as Bingley came in. He greeted her warmly, and was quickly introduced to her uncle and aunt. Bingley was soon making conversation with them as if he had known them from a much longer acquaintance. How Darcy envied his facility in light conversation. Again, he regretted his own greater difficulty in such matters.
Bingley enquired in a friendly, though general way, after the Bennet family. Darcy did note that, once, his friend asked particularly whether all Miss Bennet’s sisters were at home, and the tone of his voice was such that it denoted rather more than just pleasant interest on that point.
He heard his friend then say, “It was a very long time since I have had the pleasure of seeing you,” and, before Miss Bennet could reply, he added, “It is above eight months. We have not met since the 26th of November, when we were all dancing together at Netherfield.”
She acknowledged this warmly, and Darcy thought that he caught her looking at himself for a moment as she did so.
After some prompting from her brother, Georgiana extended an invitation to the travellers from Hertfordshire to dine with them at Pemberley on the following day. There was a short hesitation, which to Darcy seemed awkward, and perhaps to presage an excuse for refusal, before the answer came. However, Mrs. Gardiner, having glanced at her niece, said that they would all be delighted to accept. Bingley then expressed great pleasure in the certainty of having the opportunity to see Miss Elizabeth again.
Before Darcy and his party left, the invitation to Mr. Gardiner to fish at Pemberley with the gentlemen was renewed, and an arrangement made for the following morning. Miss Bennet looked at Darcy as this was decided, and smiled, as though to thank him.
Thus it was that he returned to Pemberley in a better humour than when he had left, and found no difficulty in being civil to the Hursts when they arrived late in the afternoon. Even Caroline Bingley’s obvious distaste for the news of their forthcoming dinner engagement could not harm his contentment.
As he retired for the night, Darcy hoped at least that he had begun to show Miss Bennet that he had lost some of the self-consequence, and unbending reserve which she had so deplored in Kent. If that were the case, then he now needed to be able to reinforce that better impression.
The following morning, Mr. Gardiner kept his engagement to fish at Pemberley before noon.
Darcy and Mr. Hurst were there to meet him, together with the other gentlemen of the party. It was some half an hour before a casual remark to his host by Mr. Gardiner alerted Darcy to the fact that Miss Bennet and her aunt were themselves at Pemberley, returning the courtesy of the call made by Georgiana at Lambton the previous morning.
Darcy quickly excused himself and hastened to the house.
There he found the two ladies seated in the saloon, and partaking of some refreshments with Bingley’s sisters and Georgiana. Mrs. Annesley was encouraging her mistress to make conversation with Mrs. Gardiner and her niece. Mrs. Hurst and her sister, Darcy noted, were sitting away from the others, and appeared little inclined towards conversation.
Darcy was soon aware that the Bingley sisters watched any move he made to give attention to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
On seeing her brother, Georgiana came across to greet him, and then went back to sit next to Miss Bennet. Darcy moved to sit near Mrs. Gardiner, who confirmed his favourable impression of the previous day by making conversation with Mrs. Annesley, and including Georgiana in the discourse when there was an opportunity to do so.
Suddenly, Darcy heard Miss Bingley say, with sneering civility,
“Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the ___shire militia removed from Meryton? They must be a great loss to your family.”
Darcy turned and looked quickly at her as Miss Bennet replied with apparent calm to this provocation.
Miss Bingley appeared disappointed. At the same time, Darcy noted that she had failed to see that Georgiana had been overcome with confusion at the mention of the name of Wickham.
Her brother then maintained his gaze at Miss Elizabeth Bennet, without seeing that his sister continued to be unable to lift up her eyes.
Darcy was more concerned to see whether Miss Bennet retained any remnant of that interest in Mr. Wickham that had so pained him in Kent.
Her lack of reaction, and her composure despite Miss Bingley’s sharp remarks, heartened him. He hoped that might mean that she no longer was deceived by that member of the militia. That thought led Darcy on to reflect that he would never have been prepared to confide in Miss Bingley the information about Georgiana’s experience at Ramsgate that he had entrusted to Elizabeth Bennet without any fear of it being revealed.
He soon forgot the mention of that affair in the pleasure of entertaining Miss Bennet under his own roof for the first time. It seemed all too soon before she and her aunt gave their compliments and were escorted by their host to their carriage.
When Darcy returned to the room, Miss Bingley was venting her feelings to Mrs. Hurst in criticisms about Miss Elizabeth’s person, behaviour, and dress.
“How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy.”
He turned to look at her silently, without expression.
“I never in my life saw any one so much altered as she is since the winter. She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing that we should not have known her again.”
Darcy cared little for this address, but contented himself with coolly replying, that he perceived no other alteration than her being rather tanned, a not surprising consequence of travelling in the summer.
“For my own part,” she rejoined, “I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants character; there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine, I never could perceive anything extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like at all; and in her air altogether, there is a self-sufficiency without fashion, which is intolerable.”
Darcy, exasperated, allowed himself to appear somewhat nettled at this attack, but again remained silent.
She continued, “I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty; I particularly recollect your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield,
“She a beauty! I should as soon call her mother a wit.”
“But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time.”
“Yes,” replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, “but that was only when I first knew her, for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”
He then left the room to go to his sister, who could be relied upon to take a very different view of Miss Bennet. However, Darcy hoped that his answer would put an end to Miss Bingley’s barbed remarks. He had no intention of pandering to her ill feelings.
The following day, Darcy could look forward to Miss Bennet and her relations dining at Pemberley.
However, he determined to ride to Lambton that morning in the hope of finding her there. If she would agree to take a turn in the open carriage with Georgiana and himself one afternoon, Darcy could rely on spending a couple of hours in the company of the two people he knew that he now held dearest in all the world.
At the Inn, the servant told Darcy that Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had gone out, but that Miss Bennet had remained behind, to join them later. Darcy followed him upstairs to the room that he and Georgiana had visited the previous day.
He was met by the sight of Miss Bennet rising from a chair, with a letter in her hand, apparently in a state of great agitation.
Her pallor and manner startled him as he heard her exclaim on seeing him, “I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find Mr. Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot be delayed; I have not an instant to lose.”
“Good God! what is the matter?” he said.
Then, recollecting himself, he said “I will not detain you a minute, but let me, or let the servant, go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are not well enough; you cannot go yourself.”
She hesitated, and then after a moment called back the servant, asking him, in tones of great distress, to fetch his master and mistress home, instantly.
On the servant leaving the room, she sat down, looking miserably ill. Without realising what he did, Darcy took the nearest chair and, leaning forward, took her hand in his.
She seemed unaware of his presence. After a few moments, her apparent distress made him say, very gently,
“Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take, to give you present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill.”
“No, I thank you,” she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. “There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well. I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn.”
She then burst into tears, and for a few minutes could not speak another word.
Darcy, in wretched suspense, could only say something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionate silence. Eventually, she straightened herself in the chair and he reluctantly let go of her hand as she spoke.
“I have just had a letter from Jane, with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from any one. My youngest sister has left all her friends and has eloped; has thrown herself into the power of . . . of Mr. Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton. You know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to... she is lost for ever.”
Darcy could find nothing valuable to say.
“When I consider,” she added, in a yet more agitated voice, “that I might have prevented it! I, who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of it, only some part of what I learnt, to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all, all too late now.”
His first thought on hearing her speak was that she had kept the confidence that he had entrusted to her about Georgiana and Wickham.
The second was that his first thought was unworthy if, by maintaining that silence which he himself had asked, she had been unable to prevent what had now happened to her sister.
Unable to find any words to allay her distress and, as Miss Bennet seemed lost in unhappy thought, he at first kept silent. Then, lest he appeared unconcerned, he said with complete truth, “I am grieved, indeed, grieved and shocked.”
Seeking to give her something to hope for, he went on, “But is it certain, absolutely certain?”
“Oh yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced almost to London, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to Scotland.”
“And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?”
“My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg my uncle’s immediate assistance, and we shall be off, I hope, in half an hour. But nothing can be done; I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!”
As Darcy shook his head silently, his mind was busy.
Wickham, he recalled, had spent some time during the past few years in London. Indeed, it was there that Darcy believed he had met Mrs. Younge, who had taken charge of Georgiana with such unhappy results. It could be that his sister’s unfortunate experience might enable him to trace Wickham when Mr. Bennet and his brother Gardiner could not.
He was roused from his thoughts by Miss Bennet’s distressed tones, as she said,
“When my eyes were opened to his real character.—Oh! had I known what I ought, what I dared, to do! But I knew not,—I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched, mistake!”
Darcy made no answer. That she accepted his opinion of Wickham was so very welcome; his concern now was more for her distress than for the fate that might befall her sister.
However, there seemed to be nothing he could say which might not promise what might not be achievable, or appear facile when he wished to show his genuine anxiety.
At last, and after a pause of several minutes, he felt that he should intrude no longer, and said to her quietly,
“I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern. Would to heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part, that might offer consolation to such distress. But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks.”
Her head was bowed, and she did not reply. After regarding her gravely for some moments, Darcy rose to his feet. Before he turned to leave the room, he suddenly recollected the plans which had been made for them to meet later.
“This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister’s having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley today.”
“Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologize for us to Miss Darcy. Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as it is possible. I know it cannot be long.”
He readily assured her of his secrecy and concern for her distress, wished for a happier conclusion than might appear likely, and left his compliments for her relations.
As he reached the door, Darcy could not bring himself to leave without turning to give her a last, long, look, for he knew not when he might see her again.
Miss Bennet had lifted her head and, just for a moment, he fancied that there was something in her expression that was more than anxiety; more than regret at his going.
But it was no time to linger, or indulge his own concerns. Without saying any more, he left the room and shut the door behind him.