The Darcys travelled slowly, and they had not been at home for long before a letter from their cousin, who had gone direct to London from Bath, was received by Darcy. Colonel Fitzwilliam briefly related what had occurred after their departure, his application to Ferrars and Yates, with its more or less successful result, and his totally unsuccessful visit to Mrs. Grant. He omitted, of course, all reference to the second part of Yates's conversation with Lady Catherine, and stated his few facts with the smallest amount of comment, adding that he was grateful to his cousins for their kindness in the affair, but in the circumstances he thought it would be better not to return to Pemberley for the present, but to try to occupy his mind with some work. He had therefore accepted an offer made to him by one of his brother officers, to collaborate in writing a history of his regiment; and he proposed to remain in London, where he would have access to manuscripts and authorities. Darcy need have no fear that he would not correspond as regularly as usual, and he would call in at the Hursts' while they remained in town, so that he would be in continual touch with, as he said in conclusion, "the best friends a man ever had." Elizabeth sighed over this letter, but consoled herself presently with the thought that Mrs. Grant and Miss Crawford might possibly be in town during the summer. Darcy, on the other hand, was well satisfied with it, deeming that his cousin had acted with perfect uprightness, and he begged Elizabeth to give up the idea of trying to bring them all together at some future time. "Fitzwilliam, my dear, is of an age when he can be trusted to manage his own affairs, as this proves to us," he said to her.
"I do not think it proves much, except that Aunt Catherine is the cruel domineering old woman we always knew her to be," replied Elizabeth. "Poor Robert! to think of his being so abominably treated! Of course a true, honest man, as he is, was powerless among these insufferable people, who have not a word of truth amongst them."
Elizabeth indeed felt acutely disappointed at such a disastrous and unforeseen ending to her hopes. She blamed herself bitterly for her share in the disaster, and again regretted having persuaded Miss Crawford to come to the reception. She had written to Mary, according to promise, at the first opportunity, but not for more than a week after their return home was an answer received, and then it was a disappointment, like all the rest; merely a note, brief and tremulous, acknowledging Mrs. Darcy's kindness and apologies, begging that no more might be said as to the offence, and breaking off with assurance of the writer's good-will, but of her inability to express herself at greater length. The only sign of the real Mary appeared in the postscript, "I will write again by and by, dear Mrs. Darcy, if you will not mind very stupid letters." The lines of the note clearly showed the writer's shaken health, although her pride forbade her to make it her excuse. Elizabeth was grieved, and felt herself, for the time being, repulsed; she resolved to send, after a time, a cheerful letter on different subjects which might re-establish their friendship on new ground, so that the painful memories which Miss Crawford at present associated with the Darcy family might by degrees be eradicated.
These anxieties occupying her thoughts, and her time being taken up with her children and with Georgiana, who had returned to Pemberley in greatly improved health and spirits, she still did not fail to remark the absence of any news of Lady Catherine, for she had fully expected a speedy communication announcing the lady's triumph over Miss Crawford and ignoring all that had followed it. When her husband, therefore, in opening a letter one morning, observed that it was from his aunt, she was prepared for something considerably more disagreeable than its contents proved to be.
The letter began by announcing Lady Catherine's recent return home with her daughter, and the extreme pleasure of Mr. and Mrs. Collins, and of all their neighbours, in seeing them again. The worthy Rector and his wife had come up to Rosings to pay their respects on the very first evening. Mrs. Jenkinson had not yet come back from her vacation; she had in fact written to ask leave to stay for another week, which was excessively inconvenient, as dear Anne depended upon her so much. Anne's sensibility was indeed very great! She might not have inherited her mother's strength of character, but she had such warm affections! They sometimes led her to form attachments to people who proved unworthy of such devotion. There had just been an unfortunate instance of that during their stay at Bath.
Darcy, who had been reading the letter out loud to his wife and sister, hesitated at this point, but Elizabeth urged him to go on, saying that Georgiana knew all about the Ferrars, and was as anxious as herself to learn whether their reign was over.
"You and Elizabeth have probably heard something of the regrettable termination to my reception on your last evening in Bath. The young lady whom Elizabeth was so obstinately anxious for me to patronize must have acted at some former time with extreme imprudence, to say the least of it, though I really do not feel it to be my duty to investigate the rights and wrongs of the matter; still, the information I received was so positive, that I was bound to act upon it, and to point out to her that I regretted having brought her into my immediate circle of friends. I think I may say that she, or, at any rate, her sister, admitted the justice of my remarks. There I hoped the matter would have ended, but immediately afterwards I learned that the very persons from whom I had received this friendly warning about Miss Crawford had been themselves acting towards me in a scandalously hypocritical and underhand manner. You will guess that I refer to the Robert Ferrars and Miss Steele. I cannot enter into particulars of their conduct; suffice it to say that for all the latter part of their stay in Bath it has been a continual course of deception, of nefarious and vulgar schemes for their own aggrandizement. They have traded upon my kindness, and upon the warm regard which my poor innocent-hearted Anne displayed towards Miss Steele, to foster the most impudent designs. Never have I been so mistaken in people whom I regarded as deserving of my interest, never have I met with such vile ingratitude. You may imagine that I lost no time in sending for the whole family and informing them that our acquaintance was at an end, for the reasons I have given, and naturally I declined to listen to any defence; Miss Steele was utterly confounded, but Mrs. Ferrars, seeing that her whole plot was exposed, showed herself in her true colours; she lost control of herself, and used expressions more insolent than anyone has ever dared to do in my presence. Indeed, she was so determined to be heard, that it was only by leaving the room myself and sending my footman to show them out that I was able to rid myself of their presence. The man is a mere weak fool; I could see that by the way he ineffectually tried to control his wife, but even he seemed to have no sense of the impropriety of her conduct and her sister's.
"It is easily conjectured that after such a shock as this all enjoyment in Bath for me was entirely at an end. We should have left immediately, but that Anne was too unwell, on hearing what had happened, to travel for another week. My indignation at the whole affair is still beyond words."
Darcy paused, and Elizabeth asked: "Is that all the letter, Fitzwilliam?"
"Yes," he replied, "that is, she signs her name there, but there is a postscript which is evidently intended for your perusal."
Elizabeth took the letter which he handed to her, and read: "Were it not that out of pure perversity Elizabeth always chooses to act exactly the opposite to my advice, I should suggest that you proceed very cautiously in any further dealings you may have with the young lady I mentioned above." Elizabeth flushed deeply and laid down the letter, but immediately took it up again and re-read Lady Catherine's version of the Ferrars's defeat.
Meanwhile Georgiana was eagerly asking: "What does Aunt Catherine mean, Darcy? She writes strangely, does she not? How can those people have nefarious schemes or designs against her? She does not say how she knew they had."
"I hardly understand it all," said Darcy, "but you know your aunt has often been disappointed in people before, when they have desired more of her favour than she was prepared to give."
"Yes, she takes great fancies, and then forgets about people," returned Georgiana, "but she really seems to be dreadfully angry this time. Elizabeth says that you and she did not like those people, the Ferrars."
"No, we did not, for we considered them undesirable," replied Darcy, "and whatever reason your aunt has for quarreling with them, undoubtedly it is well she should have done so."
Georgiana perceived that she was not to hear more about the Ferrars, and dropped the subject, which, in fact, was what Darcy wished for. It was a distasteful one to him, for they had aroused his dislike more than most of his aunt's protégés, and he was glad to hear they had fallen from favour, without being interested in the reason for it. Elizabeth was quite aware of this, and accordingly refrained from any further discussion of her aunt's letter with her husband. She could not forbear a little private smile over the exposure of the "impudent designs," the nature of which she had quickly surmised; in the circumstances she thought they had hardly merited such severe strictures as those passed on them by Lady Catherine, and but for Mrs. Ferrars's unpardonable conduct towards Miss Crawford, Elizabeth might have spared her some pity for the manner of her dismissal from Pulteney Street.
Georgiana took an early opportunity of asking Elizabeth about the references to Miss Crawford. "That is your friend of whom you told me, is it not, Elizabeth? I wonder what really happened, and why Aunt Catherine speaks of her so harshly. It seems very unkind."
"It was very unkind, Georgiana. Of course Aunt Catherine was entirely misinformed; she listened to some malicious gossip, and was terribly rude to Miss Crawford at the end of the evening after we left. I heard about it from Robert, who stayed later than we did. And the worst of it is, that in consequence Miss Crawford feels deeply wounded, I fear, as regards the whole family."
"Oh, I am so sorry. What a pity it is. Cannot anything be done? Surely you will be able to put it all right again some time, will you not?"
"I hope so; yes, of course, I shall do whatever is possible: I should be so extremely sorry to lose sight of her now."
"She must be charming, from all you say," commented Georgiana, and then asked rather shyly and with a deep blush: "Did Cousin Robert like her too?"
"Yes, he liked her very much, I think. You know, she played the harp, and he is so fond of anything to do with music."
"Yes, I know," said Georgiana; and added, in a low voice: "I remember he would always much rather have listened to my playing than have talked to me."
"Do not let yourself grieve, Georgiana," said Elizabeth, kissing the young girl's fair brow; "you know that Robert has the greatest possible regard for you, and you will find, next time you meet, that you are the best of friends."
Georgiana smiled rather sadly; she often felt that she must have not only fallen in the estimation of a cousin she revered, but that she must also be possessed of no qualities capable of inspiring affection, and what was even worse, of no heart of her own to give. Elizabeth understood her well, and tried often to give her more self-confidence and to raise her lowly opinion of herself; but though she was growing less reserved, and more disposed little by little to trust her own judgments, the old habits of timidity, of reliance on the guidance of those whom she loved, were still strong in her. Elizabeth would often refuse to decide a thing for her, but when she was helped to weigh it in the balance, to judge it by all the standards available, her choice could always be recommended for discretion and clear-sightedness.
The month of May was now nearly half-way through, and the time was approaching when James Morland was expected to pay a visit to his friends at Pemberley. So much of their stay at Bath had been productive of disappointment, that they looked back upon their acquaintance with this young man as its one circumstance of unalloyed pleasure. Darcy, whose regard for him had grown very warm, had received letters from home which enabled him, prior to leaving Bath, to inform Morland that a living in his gift would shortly be vacant, and that he would have the pleasure in offering it to Morland when the time came. This important communication had been received by the young clergyman with a depth of joy and gratitude which had increased the Darcys' satisfaction in being able to assist him. The living, though not a rich one, would suffice for his needs, as he possessed some capital advanced by his father: and its situation, in a hilly and bracing country district, made it most desirable for a person whose health, like his own, had to be considered. The conversation between himself and Darcy, which had been very short, had taken place only the day before the latter's departure, and Morland, still scarcely realizing his good fortune, had hurried round to the hotel the following morning to repeat his acknowledgments to both his friends and to make his adieux. There was time only for a very few words to be exchanged at the house door, and Morland found it difficult to express himself fluently on a subject which lay so near his heart, but Elizabeth and her husband set him at his ease with a few kind remarks, repeating cordially an invitation already given, that he come and stay with them on the conclusion of his visit to the Portinscales. Since their return home the resignation of the old Rector at Kympton, the living in question, had been made public. He was to leave within a few weeks; so that Morland's visit would afford him, as the rector-designate, an opportunity of getting to know the place and of meeting some of his future parishioners. Pemberley was not in the parish, for Kympton was eighteen miles away, but the link between the two places had always been strong, and the distance was frequently bridged, for Desborough Park, the home of the Bingleys, was the principal house in Kympton Parish, and only a mile and a half from the parsonage house. Morland's pleasure was extreme on hearing that his nearest neighbours would be the brother-in-law and favourite sister of Mrs. Darcy. Next to being within a stone's throw of the Darcys themselves, it was the best thing imaginable.
Morland arrived at Pemberley late one afternoon, just in time to prepare for dinner, and was introduced to Miss Darcy when they all assembled in the drawing-room before the meal. Georgiana's intense shyness generally caused her to appear at a disadvantage with strangers, but there was something in the young man's open countenance and pleasing, unaffected manners that attracted everyone to him at first sight, and they were soon chatting together completely at their ease. Morland was deeply interested in everything that he could learn of his future home, and asked eager questions of his hosts. Georgiana had been so lately staying at Desborough, and had, while there, so frequently called on old Dr. and Mrs. Taylor, that she was able to give more particulars of the house and garden than her brother and sister were able to recollect. The evening passed quickly away with conversation and music, and Morland learned that on the following morning the whole party were to drive over to Desborough Park to dinner, starting early that they might have time to walk through the village and inspect the church and parsonage as well.
The weather proved propitious, and the drive, through some of the most beautiful vales of Derbyshire, was agreeable to all, but especially delightful to Morland, feeling as he did that he was within reach of the goal he had so long desired—restored health and the power to do the work he loved amid congenial surroundings. It was in vain that Darcy, not wishing to raise his hopes too high, told him that the parish was very scattered and the roads bad, that the climate was exceedingly cold and the distant cottages were almost inaccessible in stormy weather, that some of the farmers were people of a very independent way of thinking, difficult to get on with—he could discover no drawback, only fresh incentives to throw himself into his task. Elizabeth commended him for his enthusiasm, but added a sly reminder that he might be disappointed in the house; large, rambling and picturesque though it may seem when tenanted by the Taylors and their seven children, it would, she feared, be an inconvenient residence to a bachelor.
"It will be too big, I have no doubt," responded Morland, "but, you know, I need not furnish more than a part of it. Besides, I intend, as soon as I am thoroughly settled to have my sister Sarah to stay with me if she can be spared from home."
Georgiana was interested in hearing of the sister, and James Morland at her request gave an account of his home at Fullerton, and of his brother and sisters, eight besides himself and Catherine, who was now Mrs. Henry Tilney. Catherine was evidently the favourite—there was a smile and a lightening of the eye when he spoke of her—he wished it had been possible for her to come and help him with his settling-in, but they lived such a great distance away—Woodston was forty miles away from Bath, quite at the other end of Somerset.
Mr. Darcy's chaise and four rolled through the village of Kympton not long after twelve o'clock, and paused to put down its owner, his sister and his young guest. There was so much to see, but Georgiana was an untiring walker, and intended staying with the gentlemen until the carriage should be sent back to bring them to Desborough in time for an early dinner. Elizabeth drove on for another two miles, and was presently alighting at the door of a handsome modern house built in the Italian style, and being warmly welcomed by Bingley and Jane, whom she had not seen for some weeks.
Bingley, on hearing what had become of the rest of the party, immediately decided to walk down to meet them; and the sisters strolled into the garden, for the weather was remarkably warm and sunny for that time of year, and they could venture to seat themselves upon a bench that was sheltered by an angle of the house, whence a beautiful view was obtained of the wide-spreading park, with its chestnut trees in full bloom and clumps of pink and white hawthorns. Desborough was not so imposing and extensive a place as Pemberley, but it was pleasant and home-like, and the grounds were particularly delightful, including as they did an orchard, a shrubbery, and lawns and flower-borders laid out in a series of terraces which sloped towards the park. The Bingleys took great pleasure in their garden, and had made many additions and improvements during the two years of their occupancy.
"I am overjoyed that you are come, Lizzie," began Jane, "for I have so much to tell and ask. I have not seen you since we brought Georgiana home, nearly a month ago. You really think she is better?"
Elizabeth warmly assented, and declared that Georgiana seemed in greater spirits than she had been for many months. Jane anxiously inquired after Fitzwilliam, and Elizabeth made out as good an account of him as she could, but as she was naturally not at liberty to mention what had passed at Bath, she could not perfectly satisfy Jane as to his well-being. Choosing a safer subject, she talked of Mr. Morland, praised his modesty, ability and good sense, and repeated her conviction that the Bingleys would find him a thoroughly agreeable neighbour. Jane listened with interest and promised every kind of help and support to the new Rector, who was to come with such strong recommendations; but she was clearly a little preoccupied, and Elizabeth, seeing this, asked what news she had to communicate.
"I am afraid it is not very good news," began Jane hesitatingly; "but—you will have guessed it, I expect—I have had a letter from Lydia. She is going abroad, Elizabeth, fancy, almost immediately! Poor Lydia! Wickham's regiment is ordered to the West Indies, and he insists on her going with him."
"I am not sure why it should be 'poor Lydia,'" returned Elizabeth, smiling; "you have such a terribly compassionate heart, Jane! I should think Lydia would like the West Indies very much, though she probably dreads the voyage."
"Oh, no, she does not think she will like them at all; it is so hot there, and she cannot bear the idea of being waited on by negro servants. She says there is only one consolation, very few of the ladies of the regiment are going; there will not be more than six of them, and no one as young as herself."
"Since so many are staying behind, I should have thought she could have arranged to do the same; though I confess I think it is much better she should be with Wickham."
"Yes, you are right, I believe, Elizabeth; she says she would rather have stayed in England, and that Wickham declares he does not particularly want her, only he cannot afford to keep up an establishment for her at home while he is abroad." Jane sighed. "It is very sad that they talk like that to one another; I only hope they do not mean it."
Elizabeth preferred to waive this question, and continued: "I suppose she goes on to ask you for money?"
Jane admitted that this was so, but said that Lydia would need a suitable outfit for the West Indies, and everything of that kind was very expensive, it appeared. She added that Lydia was anxious to come to Derbyshire before she went away, if a remittance for the journey could be sent, but Jane had not made any response to the suggestion.
"No, I do not think that that is at all necessary," Elizabeth remarked. "Well, Jane, of course I will give you some bank-notes to send with your own, on the usual condition that Lydia does not know from whom they come; but I only wish one could believe that they will be used for paying debts to the Newcastle tradespeople—of which there are sure to be plenty. Could you not persuade her to give you a statement of what she owes? You could then perhaps arrange for some of them to be paid off first."
"I will try; I will ask Bingley about it; but it is very difficult to help Lydia the way one would like. She does expect the most extraordinary things! What do you think of her inviting Kitty to go to the West Indies with her, my father, of course, paying all expenses?"
"I am past feeling any astonishment at Lydia's demands," Elizabeth said; "but I hope Kitty had too much good sense even to think such a thing possible."
"Oh, no, I think she knew it would not be allowed, though perhaps the idea was tempting to her, poor Kitty! But she had her promised visit here to plead as an excuse; she is coming, you know, towards the end of next month."
"It has been arranged, then? I am so glad to hear it; she must come on to Pemberley, and she and Georgiana will enjoy being together again."
"Yes, indeed; but I hope she will stay with me until the autumn. I wanted her to have come a little earlier; but she has received an invitation from some people called Knightley, in London, which she is very desirous of accepting, and my father sees no objection."
"Yes, I know of whom you mean, I think; they are friend of my Uncle and Aunt Gardiner's, and live in Brunswick Square."
"I fancy it is not those Knightleys, but relations of theirs; still, we shall hear all about it very soon, for I am expecting a letter from Kitty at any moment, to give me her direction in London and to tell me when she will be ready to leave, for Bingley is to go to fetch her."
"Is Bingley going to town? Then I wonder if it could possibly be arranged for him to escort Georgiana? Darcy had thought of going, but he would be very glad not to, if Bingley would not find it any inconvenience."
"I am sure Bingley would be delighted. She is going to the Hursts', is she not? I have heard mention of it."
"Yes, Mrs. Hurst and Caroline have both written, begging for a long visit from her. I do not think it can be for more than a month, as Aunt Catherine is sure to want her to go on to Rosings when she hears she is so near. Georgiana does not like being away from home for long, nor do we like to spare her."
"I can quite understand that. She has such a sweet disposition, such sympathy, and brightness and intelligence, that it is a joy to have her companionship. And you have improved her so much, Elizabeth. At one time I thought her very difficult to approach; but her manners have gained so much ease and elegance that everyone must be charmed with her from the first meeting. I often think Fitzwilliam must regret what he has lost."
"My dear Jane, let me assure you for the twentieth time that he does not regret it, nor can he be said to have lost what he never possessed. Their hearts were never united; but now you will see that each will marry happily, and their old friendship will survive unimpaired. If you had seen Fitzwilliam at Bath, you would have wasted no regrets on him. Now, shall we walk about a little? I want to discover if your lilacs are further advanced than ours."
Three o'clock brought back the remainder of the party, and Mr. Morland was introduced to Mrs. Bingley, and found her a most sympathizing listener to his enthusiasm over his new home. He was full of plans, and was interested in everything, from the beautiful little church down to the honeysuckle growing over the Rectory porch. Darcy had promised him to have certain repairs and renovations made as soon as the Taylor family should have quitted the house; and faulty chimneys and new wallpapers formed topics for a kind of discussion which Bingley thoroughly enjoyed, and he would have presented his young guest with the contents of several rooms at Desborough, and the greater part of the stables, if there had been the slightest chance of his accepting them.
There was not time to do more than begin on these important subjects to-day, for by half-past four the visitors had to be in the carriage again; but the proposal that Bingley should take Georgiana on her journey to London was brought forward and approved of by all concerned. Bingley was also going to his sister's house, and it was immaterial to him what day he arrived there, or how long he had to wait in London for Kitty Bennet. He thought he had heard something about a ball for which Kitty wished to stay, but was uncertain about the date.
It was decided that their next letters from their relations in town should determine the time of their departure.
Morland was easily persuaded to prolong his stay at Pemberley until his induction to his new living should take place. This was expected to be not later than the end of June, for Dr. Taylor was anxious to hand over his duties to his successor as soon as possible. Morland was by no means an idler; he spent a considerable part of his time in study, and read and worked with Mr. Ferrars, helping him occasionally in parish duties. The acquaintance of these two men, formed directly after Morland's arrival, promised to ripen into a friendship; there were similarities in their characters that mutually attracted them, and on the tranquil simplicity of the life at the Parsonage Morland hoped to model his own. The Ferrars had so recently arrived at Pemberley, having, as has been said, exchanged livings with the former incumbent, and left Delaford shortly after Colonel Brandon's death, that there had not been time for much intercourse between them and the Darcys, though Elizabeth had been greatly pleased with what she had seen of Mrs. Ferrars. Since the former's return from Bath, and after her experiences there of the other branch of the family, she could appreciate fully the immense superiority of the Edward Ferrars over their relations. Ferrars himself was too quiet, diffident, and reserved a man to recommend himself easily, but in his wife all recognized a woman of a rare and noble nature, distinguished alike by the sweetness of her character and by its strength. The Darcys rejoiced in the increased opportunities of meeting afforded by the presence of their guest, and various walks, drives and out-of-doors excursions were organized, for which the glorious weather of early June afforded every opportunity.
The first diminution their party suffered was in the departure of Georgiana for London, which occurred on the seventeenth of the month. The visit had long been talked of, and Georgiana really looked forward with no little pleasure to seeing her old friends, for Caroline Bingley and Louisa took pains not to show to her, of whom they were exceedingly fond, the cold-hearted and worldly aspect of their dispositions; but when she found herself actually in the travelling carriage with Bingley, with her maid seated opposite, she felt, as she did every year, the sensation of leaving all that she cared for behind her, and of entering scenes alarming because unfamiliar. Bingley good-naturedly endeavoured to divert her in every way, talked of the pleasures awaiting her, and of the friends she would see in London, Kitty Bennet and Mrs. Annesley, besides her hostesses, and casually mentioned the possibility of her coming across Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana had been prepared for this by Elizabeth, and had first shrunk from the idea; but afterwards became reconciled to the view put before her, that the first meeting, which must necessarily be painful, must come some time, and it would be best to get it over in a crowd, with a few ordinary words of greeting, which would put them on a comfortable footing for the future. She, therefore, made an effort to reply cheerfully to all Bingley's suggestions, and had not found the journey tedious when they drew up in Grosvenor Street in time for dinner on the third day.
Caroline and Louisa could not make enough of her, and the evening was spent in talking over the plans they had formed for her amusement, and in detailing the engagements they had entered into. It soon appeared that the ball which Bingley had mentioned was on their list; for they were also acquainted with Mrs. George Knightley, whose entertainment it was, and had secured invitations from her for their brother and their young friend. Bingley inquired of the date of the ball, explaining how it affected his movements; and his sisters endeavoured to conceal their surprise on hearing that Miss Kitty Bennet was staying with the Knightleys.
"I thought, when you spoke of coming to fetch her, Charles, that she was with her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street," said Miss Bingley.
"To tell the truth, I was not very clear about it myself," returned Bingley. "Jane told me that she was going to stay over this ball, but whether she was with the Gardiners or the Knightleys I did not make out until just before we came away. It does not make a vast deal of difference, to my thinking."
"There is certainly some difference; the Knightleys live in Portland Square, for one thing," replied Miss Bingley.
"Do they? I am glad of that, for it means I shall not have to drive so far round to pick Kitty up," was Bingley's cheerful answer, and he moved away to speak to Mr. Hurst, leaving his sisters to their speculations as to how Miss Bennet could have come to know the George Knightleys. Georgiana did not know, but conjectured it was through Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner; and the ladies, though they refrained from showing their perplexity, were even more puzzled to account for the uncle who lived in Cheapside being acquainted with such people of fashion.
"Have you seen anything of Fitzwilliam, Louisa?" inquired Bingley of his eldest sister, when he came to have his coffee-cup refilled.
"Really, Charles, what a foolish question to ask," replied Mrs. Hurst, with affected carelessness. "Of course we see him frequently when he is in town."
"Very good; I hope he will come round while I am here, and, if not, I shall get you to give me his direction, for I must certainly look him up before I go back."
Mrs. Hurst made a vague answer, for both she and her sister were sincerely anxious to spare Georgiana any embarrassment, and they would not of their own accord have referred to Fitzwilliam until they knew how she was able to bear the mention of his name in public. Caroline immediately began speaking of another subject, but Georgiana, divining their intentions, felt that she must not indulge in a foolish sensibility which might give her friends a false impression of the state of things; so, summoning all her courage, she said, with a deep blush but a tolerably firm voice: "Yes, I hope my cousin may be in town this month. Elizabeth and my brother gave me many messages for him, if I should see him."
She was conscious that the ladies were looking at her in surprise, but that Bingley noticed nothing but the amount of milk Louisa was putting in his coffee was a great help, and Caroline, the next moment, said quietly: "Oh, yes, no doubt he will call," which made it unnecessary for Georgiana to say any more. Bingley, having secured his cup, next produced a notebook and proceeded to write down the address of Fitzwilliam's lodgings and the name of his club, and, as an afterthought, the various engagements to which he had been pledged by his sisters. Georgiana found that Mrs. Hurst and Caroline were anxious she should go with them on the following day to call in Portman Square and meet Mrs. George Knightley.
Mrs. Knightley, formerly Emma Woodhouse, had, since her marriage, been able to enjoy a larger measure of the social power and influence in the use of which she had always delighted. Since Mr. Woodhouse's death she had persuaded her husband to go into Parliament, and except for short visits to Donwell, they now lived entirely in London—an arrangement which just suited Emma, who had long desired some stir and variety in her life, after having spent so many unbroken years in a country village. Mr. Knightley still took the greatest interest in the farming of his property, and as soon as he was trustee to his sister-in-law, Mrs. John Knightley, for the estate of Hartfield, which had passed to her on her father's death, he found as much to do out of London as in it; while Emma, though fond of Donwell, had grown weary of the neighbourhood, and took a keen pleasure in forming round her in London a large circle of acquaintances, whom she loved to entertain, and in whose characters and careers she took the deepest interest.
Mrs. Knightley's ball had become an annual fixture in the month of June, and this year she had a special incentive for giving it and for making it as gay as possible. At her sister's house she had met Mrs. Gardiner, whose husband had long been a close friend in business of Mr. John Knightley. Mrs. Gardiner was chaperoning a niece, Miss Catherine Bennet, a slender, blooming young girl, and pretty without being very striking; but Mrs. Knightley was impressed with her pleasing manners, and the enthusiasm with which she received the prospect of a theatre party which was being discussed on that occasion. It was the work of a moment for Emma to decide that she must ask her sister to bring Miss Bennet to the ball; but during the remainder of the evening, while she considered and observed, an improvement on the first idea suggested itself; Miss Bennet must be invited to stay in Portman Square for the great occasion. What better arrangement could there be? Isabella would not want to stay late, but young girls liked to dance till the last moment, and she, Emma, would have the benefit of Miss Bennet's help in the preparations, and would be able to introduce her to her partners beforehand. Yes, Miss Bennet was certainly very pretty, prettier than she had appeared at first—such a slim, upright figure, such a profusion of hair, such a delicate fairness of complexion; she would be a great success! It would be as delightful as when last year, the girl who was at the ball as Mrs. Knightley's special friend and protégée had finished the evening triumphantly becoming engaged to the most eligible man present, Sir William Manvers. Emma felt a thrill at the recollection. The event had justified all her admiration for Sophia Lennox, and Mr. Knightley, who had been so sceptical, had been obliged to admit that sometimes people did marry those whom one had destined for them. There was no Sir William Manvers this year, it was true; but Miss Bennet was still young, and there was plenty of time for the right man to appear. In fact, it was really only her due that she should be properly taken out in London, in order that she might have every chance, and this her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was quite evidently not able to give her.
What wonder that the upshot of these reflections was a courteous note to Mrs. Gardiner, begging for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Bennet as soon as her stay in Gracechurch Street should be concluded. Kitty was in transports of happiness when all was arranged and she found herself actually Mrs. George Knightley's guest, with a ball in prospect, and each day one round of visits and shopping and other delights, with intervals only long enough to admit of changing one elegant gown for another, for her mother and sisters had taken care she should be provided with an ample wardrobe. She soon ceased to regret not having been allowed to accompany Lydia to the West Indies, and before many days were over had discovered a reason to rejoice that she had not gone.
Among Mrs. Knightley's frequent visitors at this time was a young naval lieutenant named William Price, whom she had met a short time previously at the house of the same Mr. Yates who had paid a visit to Bath in the preceding spring. Mr. Yates lived in Cavendish Square, and as his wife was a first cousin of William Price's, they had begged the young man to make their house his home whenever he happened to be in London. Young Price had lately been attached to a ship of the line, theAndromeda, which he had been obliged to put into Portsmouth for repairs, and he had been employing some of the period of his enforced leisure in taking up a course of signalling and gunnery, as he was extremely anxious to gain promotion as speedily as possible; but he had found that it was necessary to use other means than those of mere hard work, and at the present time he was living in London, keeping in touch with the Admiralty and endeavouring to recommend himself to every high official and person of influence with whom he could contrive to become acquainted. In the intervals he paid hasty visits to his sisters, who were settled in Northamptonshire, and to his mother at Portsmouth; and being a young man of excellent address, great charm of manner and marked abilities, he had gained a deserved popularity, and could not help enjoying the gaiety of London life, available to him through the hospitality of numerous friends. Mrs. Knightley was extremely pleased with him, and with his next brother, David, who was a clerk in the India Office, and both young men found it a very agreeable house to come to, especially when to the welcome of their hostess was added that of a pretty girl who, warm-hearted and impulsive, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in their company.
David Price was two or three years her junior, and in him Kitty Bennet found only a merry and boyish companion; but the manliness of the young sailor aroused different feelings, and it was not long before she realized that the visits of William Price were becoming the most important thing in her life. She dreamt of him before he came, she had no eyes for anyone else when he was present, and she treasured his words when he had gone; and although she could not honestly read into those words more than a passing friendliness, yet she allowed herself to cherish hopes that eachnexttime there might be something warmer. Poor Kitty had secretly longed to be married ever since she was sixteen; and now at last it seemed as if Destiny itself was working for her, in placing her with so kind a hostess, who was always giving invitations and affording opportunities, and in sending her such a splendid hero of romance to fall in love with, for a hero he was, of a campaign at sea, when he had distinguished himself as much by bravery as he had on shore by industry; a hero with good looks, an assured position, and prize-money saved, and at the present moment with nothing particular to do but fall in love with Miss Kitty Bennet! It was impossible not to feel, under the circumstances, that the course of events was plainly marked out. Mrs. Knightley certainly thought so too, and although she refrained from definite statements, her sympathetic attitude encouraged Kitty to talk herself into hope and self-confidence.
The importance of the ball itself in the great scheme of things was not overlooked, and Emma even dreamt now of a brilliant dénouement like last year's. She had invited a large number of people, and was anxious to have as many dancing couples as possible, so Mrs. Hurst's request for permission to bring her brother and Miss Darcy was warmly acceded to, and it was only a matter of regret that their friend Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be induced to go to any balls this season. Kitty was delighted at the prospect of meeting Georgiana again, and when the call spoken of by Mrs. Hurst was being paid, on the day following Georgiana's arrival, she availed herself of a pause in the conversation, and a nod and a smile from Mrs. Knightley, to ask her friend to come to another room for a few moments, on the plea of showing her some new possessions.
Georgiana duly admired the bonnets and pelisses, and the gold chain which was Mrs. Knightley's present, and the rose-coloured ball dress which was to make its first appearance on the much-talked-of occasion. Kitty's head was evidently full of this event; she dwelt on it constantly, and from her quick nervous manner Georgiana guessed at some kind of special preoccupation with the subject.
"And so you are very happy here, Kitty? Perhaps I need not ask that," she said, as Kitty turned to unfold another new muslin gown.
"Oh, very, very happy, perfectly happy," exclaimed Kitty with eagerness. "Mrs. Knightley is so kind, and such nice people come here, you have no idea, Georgiana. Now, do look; is not that beautiful? A real India muslin, and the colour just suits me. You ought to like it, for I bought it with some money Elizabeth gave me."
"Yes, dear, I do like it, of course," returned Georgiana; "but tell me some more about yourself. How long were you with the Gardiners?"
"I forget just how long, but I came here on the first of June. Oh, I do not know how ever I shall be able to leave! Georgiana, I must tell you! I have been longing to do so, and yet I do not know how I can, after all, for it has not really happened yet.
"Of course you have guessed," she went on, in answer to Georgiana's affectionately inquiring glance; "it can only be one thing: but pray do not mention it to anyone, for no one has any idea of it except Mrs. Knightley. It is so wonderful! Georgiana, do you believe in love at first sight?"
"I have never thought about it," answered Georgiana honestly, "but I should think it might be possible."
"Indeed, indeed, it is possible! It does happen. When you see him, you will know how easily. You will see him on Tuesday night; I do wonder what you will think of him. You must be sure to tell me quite truthfully."
"Dear Kitty, you cannot think how glad I am. You mean you are engaged, or just about to be?"
"Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Kitty, "you do not understand. I think—I hope—but I do not even know if he cares. Sometimes I feel sure he does, and then, again, he seems to be perfectly indifferent, and it is so terrible then, more terrible than you can imagine. But you will see—you will judge for yourself; I shall depend so much upon you for comfort and counsel, especially if Bingley asks him to come down and stay at Desborough, as I mean to persuade him to do."
Georgiana was not much enlightened, and her shyness and natural reserve made her hesitate to ask questions on such a subject, which, had she been Kitty, she could not have mentioned to any living creature. But Kitty was evidently longing for sympathy, and poured out her hopes and fears and her reasons for both, mingling with them a description of William Price, painted in the most vivid colours and emphasizing his courage and distinction as an officer, his amiability as a man, his perfection as a ball-room partner, and the high opinion Mr. Knightley and all sensible men had formed of him. Georgiana listened, and was interested almost against her will; she had known Kitty to take fancies several times before for persons who had not returned her regard or thought of doing so; but in this case, from what she could gather, the young man seemed really to deserve Kitty's enthusiasm; they had met under Mrs. Knightley's auspices, he had been very often at the house, and certainly, everything considered, it was much more likely that he should fall in love with Kitty than not. Nevertheless, she hardly knew how to answer her; to encourage her in hopes which might prove false would be the cruellest kindness, so, while, murmuring her wishes for her friend's happiness, she agreed that she must wait for the evening of the ball before she could really tell how far Kitty's dreams were likely to be realized.
They talked so long that eventually she had to propose a return to the drawing-room, fearing to be guilty of discourtesy towards Mrs. Knightley; but she was glad that only a moment was left for Kitty's hurried inquiry about her own affairs, as they hastened down the staircase, and that she could therefore dismiss the subject with a light word. Kitty was scarcely satisfied, but finding that Georgiana could not be induced to speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam, returned to her own all-absorbing topic with the remark, "I do wish you could meet someone just like my dear Mr. Price!"
The next few days passed rapidly for both girls, and were so full of engagements that they were not able to arrange another meeting, and Georgiana deeply regretted the fact that, except for a glimpse of her at the ball, she should not see Kitty again before Bingley's departure from town. She could only hope that all would go well, and looked forward to a fuller intercourse in Derbyshire in a few weeks' time. Meanwhile, there were many friends to see, and Georgiana would have enjoyed herself thoroughly had she not dreaded the first meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she felt hanging over her, since Bingley had called on the Colonel and reported him to be in town, but which she did not know when to expect. A slight change in her plans, necessitating a short absence from Mr. Hurst's house, led her to imagine that it would be temporarily averted; but on the very day of the ball, when she and her hostesses had remained at home, and a larger number of visitors than usual happened to be in the room, she experienced a painful shock on hearing his name announced and on seeing him walk into the room. Next moment she was angry with herself for losing her composure, even momentarily, and bracing herself for a possible encounter, she endeavoured to continue to bear her part in a conversation with two or three of Mrs. Hurst's friends, who, she realized gratefully, were strangers to her until that day. It was some minutes afterwards that she was aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching her, guided by Miss Bingley, whose kindly intentions of making the occasion as ordinary as possible only served to intensify its discomfort. Georgiana, however, thought the fault all hers, as, not reassured at all by Caroline's cheerful "Colonel Fitzwilliam was so glad to hear you were staying with us, Georgiana," she found herself only just able to give him her hand with an almost inaudible greeting, while her face, suffused with deepest blushes, must, she felt, have made her noticeable to all around. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's part to set her at her ease, which he did, to some extent with a few kindly and naturally-expressed sentences, inquiring about her journey, and the health of those she had left behind.
Georgiana presently ventured to let her eyes rest on him, and was startled to see how much older he looked even in the short time since she'd seen him, and how ill and worn. A terror seized her heart that she might be guilty of these altered looks, but it passed in an instant; there was not any doubt that their parting had been for the good of both; but poor Cousin Robert, it was plain to see that he had been suffering, from whatever cause, and her sympathy went out to him unconsciously, even while she could hardly talk to him from embarrassment of knowing that Caroline Bingley was standing by, apparently occupied with other people, but drawing conclusions from every word she could hear.
"I had intended coming to see you, anyhow, Georgiana," said Fitzwilliam, "but I am very busy, you know—I do not go out much; and you live in a perpetual whirl of gaiety, I expect." He smiled as he spoke, and Georgiana tried to answer in the same spirit, telling him that they had a good many plans, and people were very kind, but she was not really in a whirl, in fact, the very next morning she was leaving for Grosvenor Street for a few days, to spend them quietly with her old friend Mrs. Annesley, who lived in Hans Place, quite away from the bustle of London.
"Mrs. Annesley?" repeated Fitzwilliam; "of course I remember her; she will enjoy having you, but how have Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley become reconciled to parting with you even for a week?"
Georgiana explained hurriedly that it had been quite a sudden engagement; her old friend had been to see her, and had begged for a short visit from her, if possible, for Mrs. Annesley was on the point of going to India, to live with a married son who had lost his wife, and she might not have the opportunity of seeing her former pupil again for many years. Georgiana had been happy in the opportunity of going to her friend at such a time; her present hostesses had acquiesced, and a week was to be spared to Mrs. Annesley.
"But it will be made up in Grosvenor Street next month, I assume," said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
"I hardly know—I believe Elizabeth and my brother want me at home again soon—but of course I like being here too," said Georgiana, stumbling over her words, and feeling that she was disgracing herself. If only Caroline would not stand there and seem to be observing them so closely! She did not believe it would be so distressing to talk to Cousin Robert if only they could be together somewhere among strangers. This thought impelled her to ask him, quite at random, for she had every reason to know what his reply would be, whether he was going to Mrs. Knightley's ball.
"I am afraid not, Georgiana. I think I am getting too old for balls; but I wish you a great deal of pleasure there."
"Oh, Cousin Robert, you are not too old, but you—" she checked herself in this impetuous speech, and ended rather confusedly, "but you look tired"; which was not what she would have wished to say.
Her cousin glanced kindly at her, but turned her remark off with a laugh; and as he seemed about to move away, Georgiana, in desperation, and astonished at herself, said timidly: "I hope we may meet again, even though you do not go to balls."
"I hope so, too, Georgiana. But of course we shall. I must come some morning and take you all to Kensington Gardens."
Georgiana felt that this would not be a great improvement on the present situation, but she could not say any more, and supposed their conversation was at an end, when Fitzwilliam, who had made a step from her, seemed struck with a sudden idea, and turned to her again, saying: "May I come and call on you at Mrs. Annesley's? She will perhaps remember me and—I may not be in town later on."
Georgiana flushed with surprise and pleasure, and her eager assent left Fitzwilliam in no doubt as to his reception. He stayed only to assure himself of the number of Mrs. Annesley's house, then bowed and walked rapidly away, as Miss Bingley approached with the evident intention of breaking up their conclave. Georgiana had to submit to a certain amount of comment from the sisters, who, while condoling with her for having had to pass through a uncomfortable few minutes, appeared surprised that she should have been able to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she herself felt nothing but happiness in having met her cousin again, and found it possible to think of being on those terms with him that Elizabeth had predicted.
She spent a part of the afternoon in writing a long letter to her sister, telling her what had happened; but she did not like to send an account of her cousin that might alarm them at home, so she contented herself with saying that he was not looking at all well, and that she wished Elizabeth would persuade him to go down to Pemberley, as he must be working too hard in London. She concluded her writing with the words, "I will leave this open till to-morrow, dear Elizabeth, that I may tell you about the ball, and how Kitty looked."
Kitty, indeed, was the chief subject of her thoughts when they dwelt upon the prospect of the evening, and when the time for dressing arrived Kitty's rose-coloured silk occupied her mind far more than her own white satin and pearls. When Mr. and Mrs. Hurst's party entered the ante-room where Mrs. Knightley was receiving her guests, the two girls managed to exchange a few words, and Georgiana gathered that the hero of the evening had not yet appeared, but Kitty was separated from her by the crowd of arrivals, and so it eventually came about that it was their hostess who performed the introduction of Mr. William Price to Miss Darcy.
Georgiana's first thought, when she looked at the noble brow and clear blue eye of the young man, was that Kitty's attachment was easily understood, and each moment that she spent in his company strengthened that assurance. She was desirous of liking him, eager to find everything to praise in the admired—and perhaps the admirer—of her friend, and the opportunity came at once in the infectious gaiety and good spirits of the young man and the unaffected warmth of his manner.
He asked her for the honour of her hand in several dances; but the first two, she noticed, he danced with Kitty, and from the sparkle in Kitty's eye, and her quick movement as he approached to claim them, Georgiana conjectured that the engagement had been made previously.
When Georgiana's turn came, among the excellencies that she discovered in her partner was that of being a perfect dancer; and, moreover, one who moved through the set as if he enjoyed every step. Somewhat shyly she commented on this.
"Yes, indeed, Miss Darcy, I am fond of dancing; I began very early, when I was such a small person that you probably wouldn't have seen me in a room, much less have danced with me. We all used to jump about as children, I believe; and on board ship one somehow managed to learn, so as to be ready for the balls."
"Were there balls so often?" asked Georgiana.
"Yes; wherever we were stationed somebody always seized the opportunity to give a ball, either a private person, or the Governor, or the regiment, or someone. There seems to be a connection established in people's minds between naval men and dancing; anyhow, as soon as there were a few days' quiet, someone would produce musicians and a waxed floor, and we were expected to go and perform. So I decided that I had better like it."
"You are a very fortunate person to be able to be able to like what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted.
"It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy."
"No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do."
"But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier."
This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage."
"I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"—he considered—"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards—it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good."
"Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion—that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself—as yet I am not quite sure how—yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is."
"He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg."
"I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it."
"Were you—has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night."
Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached—Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent.
The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented.
"Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had madeamende honorable. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons."
Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?"
"Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise.
"Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery."
Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better.
Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?"
"It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing.
"Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana.
"Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day—an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted—it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war."
"Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana.
"Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much."
"It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know."
"Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?"
Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain.
"Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it."
"No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true."
Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?"
William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time."
Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?"
"Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through."
They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again.
"Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together."
Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year."
"Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount."
"Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner.
"Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously.
Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone.
Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other."
"Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is."
"You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you."
Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends.
Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled.
"Mr. Priceisall we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion."
"I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?"
Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned.
A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded.
"I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?"
"Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man."
"Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have."
"I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare."
"Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it—something about a rose."
"He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives."
"Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye."
"But it is his profession, Kitty."
"I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him."
"Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained.
"Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price."
"Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so."