"I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?"
"Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience."
"Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would."
"Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go."
Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it.
"Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it."
"Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is."
Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it.
"Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?"
"No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid."
"Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?"
William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval.
He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball.
"It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?"
"Oh—Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number."
"Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?"
"Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath."
Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had."
"I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought—he appeared to me to be an interesting talker."
"Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?"
Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet she did wish she knew whether that had anything to do with Cousin Robert's looking so sad and worn. Stay—that letter of Lady Catherine's which her brother had read aloud—a lady in Bath, a friend of Elizabeth's—a misunderstanding—Georgiana felt for one instant, with a thrill of fear and excitement, as though she had laid hold of the thread; and was almost glad when the stopping of the carriage obliged her to let it go, by scattering her thoughts and her bringing her back to the present moment. She reproached herself for prying into others' secrets, and pressing close to Mrs. Annesley's side, she eagerly responded to that lady's eulogies of the beautiful scene around them. The gardens were indeed looking their best in the glory of their June array, and crowds of well-dressed persons strolling gaily about added to the general sense of brilliancy and festivity.
They had taken a few turns, and Fitzwilliam had greeted several of his acquaintances, while Georgiana was beginning to think that she, too, might see someone she knew, when her attention was arrested by some comments of Mrs. Annesley's, made in a low voice, on the singular beauty of a young lady who was approaching them, escorted by two gentlemen. The lady was dark and extremely animated, and her fine eyes seemed to be glancing in the direction of their party. As the two groups slowly passed each other, Colonel Fitzwilliam's bow was acknowledged by the lady and her friends, and she half paused, as if about to speak, but passed on without doing so. Mrs. Annesley, seeing the recognition, made a laughing apology to her companion. "I beg your pardon, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I did not know you knew that lady, but really, she is such a lovely creature that one cannot help remarking on it."
"I am quite of your opinion Mrs. Annesley," returned the Colonel, and Georgiana saw that though he endeavoured to speak lightly something had happened which necessitated the exercise of a degree of self-command. "It is very obliging of you to voice sentiments which I am always wanting to put into words when I meet Miss Crawford. Although no words can exactly describe her special charm."
"It is her expression, is it not?" said Mrs. Annesley, "so full of changing life and brightness, and that vivid complexion, and graceful carriage of the head. All that one can see at a glance. And I imagine we are not in the minority in admiring her."
"No, indeed," said Fitzwilliam, "she holds quite a little court."
He was interrupted by a gentleman who detained him for a moment, and the ladies walked on, Georgiana's mind full of tumultuous thoughts. She had recollected the name Crawford in a moment as being that of Elizabeth's friend to whom Lady Catherine had behaved so unkindly, but she did not like to admit her knowledge, for fear it might be painful to her cousin to have the whole chain of circumstances discussed. What they were, Georgiana could not help longing to know, but the only one that was quite clear to her was her cousin's deep admiration for this lady. Her heart went out in sympathy to him, both for his attachment and for the difficulties in his way, if difficulties there were. Did Miss Crawford perhaps not care for him? Yet she had looked as if she wanted to speak. Were there friends or relations influencing her? He had alluded to "a little court." But how could anyone separate Miss Crawford from Colonel Fitzwilliam, if she really loved him, he so noble, so kind, so true? Georgiana blushed deeply at her thoughts, perceiving the rapid pace at which they had led her on, and the somewhat inconsistent conclusion that they had reached, but their very sincerity reassured her, in the knowledge that her own love for Colonel Fitzwilliam was the sisterly love that longed to see him happily and suitably united. No idea crossed her mind of helping towards this end; she had too lowly an opinion of her own powers as a force in other persons' lives; her only wish was for an opportunity of showing her sympathy towards her cousin in some practical form. In vain she tried to plan how this might be done, for she could not speak of it until he had opened his heart to her, a most unlikely thing to happen, and not at all could it be mentioned before Mrs. Annesley.
Fortune seemed to favour her, for when Colonel Fitzwilliam rejoined them, Mrs. Annesley confessed that she felt a little tired, the heat was so great, and she would like to rest a while. "But do not come with me," she added, as Fitzwilliam instantly proposed moving towards the chairs, "if you are not tired yet, it is much more amusing for you and Georgiana to walk about, and probably you would like to go nearer to the music. I will go and sit by my friend Mrs. Sackville, whom I see over there, until you are ready."
The cousins accordingly found themselves together, and Georgiana, hardly knowing how to begin, but feeling no time was to be lost, broke silence again after a few minutes after a few minutes by saying timidly: "I think I have heard Elizabeth speak of Miss Crawford; you all knew her in Bath, did you not?"
"Have you indeed? That is good," exclaimed Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I had forgotten that you would know her name. Yes, we all met in Bath." He seemed about to say more, but after a pause concluded with: "Ask Elizabeth to tell you about her."
Georgiana was disappointed, but told herself that she could not have expected anything else. How could he make a confidant of her, who had shown herself unworthy of any trust.
They walked on for some little distance, until Fitzwilliam, observing two vacant seats in a group of chairs, placed close to the edge of the grass, asked Georgiana if she would like to sit down for a little before turning back. It was a charming spot, in the shade of a tree and immediately facing a large sheet of artificial water, and Georgiana willingly assented, remarking: "How fortunate that we should be able to get two chairs. They seem to be nearly all occupied."
"It is generally so; people come and sit here the whole morning when it is so fine and warm," returned Fitzwilliam, placing himself at her side, but not resuming their conversation of a few moments before. Georgiana was not content to be silent, and her cousin was wrapped in thoughts of Miss Crawford and did not dream of the anxious solicitude for him in Georgiana's heart. The other man in Mary's party, he reflected, must be her brother, Henry Crawford; there was a slight resemblance; besides, he answered to the description Mary had given of him. How well he remembered her laughing looks and tones as she uttered it: "Henry is not tall, Colonel Fitzwilliam, no, I allow him every other imaginable beauty, but he is not tall; thin, dark, rather plain; of course, to me, singularly handsome; did I not say so? Do you think you would recognize him if you saw him?" And the Colonel did see him now, for the second time, a few steps away, approaching with his sister, who walked between him and Sir Walter Elliot, as before.
Mary glanced towards Miss Darcy, and in an instant the Colonel was at her side. "How do you do, Miss Crawford? I was sorry to miss you the other morning when I called. Would you allow me to present to you my cousin, Miss Darcy? She has heard of you from her brother and sister."
Mary coloured deeply as she returned his salutation, but immediately complied with his request, pausing only to say to her brother in a low voice: "Henry, please walk on; do not wait for me." To Georgiana it was such a surprise and delight to see Miss Crawford being brought towards her, and to find a wish granted which she had scarcely dared to formulate, that instead of being exceedingly shy, as she would ordinarily have been, she forgot to think of herself, and rising and looking into Miss Crawford's lovely and expressive face, she entered fully into what she believed her cousin to be feeling towards its owner. In reality the shyness was on Mary's side, for she could not help in seeing in Colonel Fitzwilliam's action another proof of the generosity and devotion of the friend whom she had exiled from her. A few words passed between them all three about the beauty of the day and their surroundings, then Miss Crawford, turning to Georgiana, inquired after Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. This was a subject to unloose Georgiana's tongue and drew forth animated replies, and Mary, still addressing her, made a few civil inquiries about her journey to town and the probable duration of her visit. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam who presently begged Miss Crawford to take his seat, which, after a slight demur, no other chair being within sight, she consented to do. He remained standing near them for a few moments, and then moved a little distance, thinking they might be able to talk more comfortably if left to themselves.
"You are staying with your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?" asked Miss Crawford, when he was out of earshot.
"No," replied Georgiana, "my aunt is not in town. For the moment I am with my old governess, Mrs. Annesley, but I am really on a visit to some other friends, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley."
"I see; and your cousin is with you there just now?" Mary pursued.
"Oh, no, no, no," said Georgiana, smiling, "no, he has been living in town by himself for some time. You have not happened to meet him since you were in London?"
Mary answered that she had met Colonel Fitzwilliam once or twice, but murmured something about thinking he and the Darcys were all like one family. Georgiana assented to this.
"He is indeed like one of ourselves; my brother and sister are devoted to him, and he is the oldest friend I have," she replied. "After my own brother, he is the kindest and best person I have ever met. People do not know for a long time how good he is, because he is so modest and retiring."
Georgiana was conscious that she was perhaps transgressing the bounds of good taste in this vehement praise; but she did not care what Miss Crawford thought of her, so long as she would think well of her cousin. At all events it appeared that Miss Crawford was not offended, for she smiled faintly and said: "He is fortunate in having you and Mrs. Darcy for his advocates."
"It is just the same," said Georgiana eagerly, "with whoever speaks of him. His friends are all devoted to him, and he is so staunch to them, whatever they do; he never changes, or fails them when they want him."
"I think I know one who would not failhim, Miss Darcy," said Miss Crawford, still smiling; "but, indeed," she added, as Georgiana turned away her head, "I am sure you are quite right in all you say. Who should know Colonel Fitzwilliam well, if not his old friends? And I know myself that he is even loyal to them when he is angry with them, which is the great test."
Georgiana could heartily agree, though without understanding Mary's allusion. Their talk drifted to other subjects, in the midst of which the Colonel returned and tried to interest Miss Crawford in some such plan as he had suggested to her sister. Mary said "it was kind of him," "it would be pleasant," without pledging herself to anything; and replied, "Pray do," when he asked if he might call to talk it over; but it appeared that she and her sister were so full of engagements that it was doubtful if they would be at home any morning before the end of that week. By this time she had risen, and appeared anxious to return to her friends. Mr. Crawford, indeed, was seen approaching, so Colonel Fitzwilliam could only bow his adieux, while promising himself the pleasure of calling early in the following week, for though he would have liked to make Henry Crawford's acquaintance for himself, he did not wish to be responsible for introducing him to Georgiana. She, on her part, only perceived that Miss Crawford was taking leave, and she pressed the hand that her new friend extended to her, saying in a low voice: "It has been such a pleasure—I hope I shall see you again."
"Indeed, I hope we may meet; I should like it," responded Mary cordially. "You go about so much that I have no doubt we shall. Pray remember me to your sister and Mr. Darcy."
Georgiana promised, and turned away with Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she ventured to say to her companion nothing more than a few shy words of appreciation of Miss Crawford's beauty and charm.
"I am so glad you like her," he replied. "I thought that you would, though it never occurred to me that we were likely to meet her here. Elizabeth talked of inviting her to Pemberley, and I hope some day she will. If we can get up a water party, Georgiana, you must come to it. Do you think you could persuade Mrs. Annesley to bring you?"
"Indeed I am sure I could, if I am still with her. But I go back to Grosvenor Street on Saturday afternoon, you know."
"Well, we must contrive it somehow; I doubt if Miss Bingley would care much for such simple pleasures."
Georgiana laughed, regarding a river party as a very distinguished and elaborate form of entertainment. Their progress towards Mrs. Annesley was slow, as Colonel Fitzwilliam was frequently accosted by some friend or other, one of whom stopped him to call out: "Do not forget that you are going with us to see Siddons inMacbethon Friday night."
"Are you, Cousin Robert? How I envy you!" said Georgiana, as they passed on. "We have tickets to see her next week inKing John; but I hear Lady Macbeth is her finest part."
"I am ashamed to say that I have never witnessed any of her performances as yet," replied Fitzwilliam; "I hardly know how I have missed them, but it behooves me to make up for lost time. I shall come round on Saturday morning and harrow your feelings with a description of the play."
"Do, please, and then I can write to Elizabeth about it. How much I shall have to tell her this week; about my coming to this beautiful place and meeting Miss Crawford."
Georgiana thought her cousin looked happier when they were driving home than she had yet seen him look in London, and they discussed the details of a plan to go to Hampton Court and dine there, which seemed to contain all the elements of perfect bliss. Fitzwilliam was indeed experiencing greater peace of mind than he had done since he parted from Mary in Bath, though for what reason he could scarcely explain to himself. Her manner had been merely that of courtesy, and had not contained a hint of the old friendliness; and Sir Walter Elliot had been, as ever, at her elbow. Yet Fitzwilliam felt that each interview he could obtain opened the way towards her a little more, and he had resolved to press straight onward, letting no such obstacles arise as he had formed an effectual barrier between them in Bath, but, rather, making use of every incident that occurred, such as Georgiana's accidental presence and the ensuing introduction, to bring himself nearer to her.
He was keeping this object ever in view when he joined his friends at the theatre a few evenings later, and in glancing round the house after the first act, observed Miss Crawford with several other persons in a box at some distance from him. He immediately began to consider the possibility of going up to speak to her, although unacquainted with the hostess, for Mrs. Grant was not there, and he conjectured that the party were in the charge of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot, by the manner in which that lady and gentleman rose to welcome a visitor who had just entered the box. Fitzwilliam determined to obtain an introduction through some friend, and for this purpose to go up to the box during the third interval, which was the longest of the evening.
The second interval, however, was destined to produce something of a disconcerting nature. Fitzwilliam was conversing with the wife of his friend, General Stuart, whose guest he was, and learning from her the names and other particulars of many of the persons present, for she had long lived in London and had a wide acquaintance. She was reckoned to be a lively companion, though the information she gave, and her manner of imparting it were, the one so positive and the other so vigorous, that her hearers were tempted frequently to forget, until after they had assimilated it, that she might have spoken without the best authority. She had chanced to notice the people in the Elliots' box, and she drew Colonel Fitzwilliam's rather unwilling attention to them. He did not wish to discuss, or hear discussed, the Crawfords or their friends, and implied at once that several of them were known to him. Mrs. Stuart was all interest, and inquired if it was that charming Miss Crawford that he knew, and, if so, whether he could explain why it was that she was going to marry that insufferable old coxcomb, Sir Walter Elliot. Colonel Fitzwilliam replied, concealing his apprehension as best he could, that he did not know that she was; he had never heard it.
"Then you are the only one in the population of London who has not heard it, my dear Colonel. Why, where have you been, to be out of the way of such a piece of news? At least fifty people have told me, and of course all of them have it straight from the most reliable source. It is hard to believe that such a beautiful creature should throw herself away like that on a foolish, impecunious old fellow who is old enough to be her father, and has nothing in the world but his title and his tailor to recommend him. I cannot comprehend why girls do these things; one can only suppose that she is tired of the single life and wants a suitable settlement."
"I am almost sure there must be some mistake, Mrs. Stuart," interposed Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I saw Miss Crawford the only lately, and she—there was nothing said about her engagement." He stopped, feeling how very lame such a refutation was, unsupported by any testimony.
"Nonsense, my dear sir. You have been living in your books, or you would have heard of it. Do you see that short, stout young man over there? He is a Mr. John Thorpe, and he was speaking of it at our house the other evening, and asserted positively that he had heard it mentioned in Bath months ago."
"I am quite certain that Miss Crawford was not engaged when she was in Bath," was all Colonel Fitzwilliam would permit himself to say.
"Well, you are very uncivil, I must say; you had better obtain someone else's assurance if you will not accept mine. Though anyone can see how it has come about; naturally the Elliots have pushed it forward to the utmost of their power. Sir Walter wants a pretty wife, and as he cannot support one out of that vanished fortune of his, he must choose one who has enough for both. And Miss Elliot would like to establish a connection between the families for the sake of a certain Mr. Henry Crawford, who is still unmarried—he is a rake, of course, but she does not mind that. You know which he is?—the dark young man standing up at the back of the box."
Colonel Fitzwilliam was so excessively disturbed and irritated by this conversation, which he had endeavoured to check by saying: "You must be quite satisfied now, Mrs. Stuart, with the answers you have provided to your own question," that the rising of the curtain was a great relief; he could sit silent, inattentive to the play, wrapped in his own anxious thoughts. Mrs. Stuart's was certainly not the last word on this terribly important matter, for he felt he must hear the facts from some other quarter before he could credit them. The fine scene of Banquo's murder was played, as far as he was concerned, to deaf ears, and his eyes continually sought the box above, where he could just see Mary's white cloak, and Sir Walter's fashionable attire always, it seemed, in proximity to it. The instant the curtain fell again he rose from his seat and made the best of his way towards the exit, but so many gentlemen were leaving their seats at the same time that he found himself in a crowd where it was impossible to progress at any great rate of speed. At this moment he heard his name pronounced behind him, and looking round, he recognized two friends, former brother officers of his own, who had remained seated near the end of one of the rows.
Impatient of the delay, he nevertheless went to them and remained a few minutes in talk, finding that one of his friends, Captain Ross, was lame and had difficulty moving along the narrow gangways. They were presently joined by a Mr. Palmer, whom Fitzwilliam knew as a man of few words, reserved, and of almost unamiable temper, but thoroughly trustworthy, and too little interested in his neighbours' affairs to be possessed of any superfluous knowledge concerning them.
Fitzwilliam had a slight acquaintance with him, and after a little consideration he asked him, as if casually: "Do you know anything of Sir Walter Elliot, Palmer?"
"As much as I want to," was the reply. "A stupid fellow. If he were framed and glazed he would be a good deal more useful than he now is, I consider."
Captain Ross laughingly agreed with him, claiming some knowledge of Sir Walter Elliot himself, and calling on his hearers to witness the inequality of human justice, when such a man as that could find a young and charming wife.
"Is it true then," asked Fitzwilliam, summoning all his fortitude, "that Sir Walter Elliot is going to be married?"
"Perfectly true," rejoined Captain Ross and his companion, "and you know to whom—that lady in the box with him now."
Colonel Fitzwilliam had no need to look; it was enough to know that the worst he dreaded was about to befall. His friends seemed to notice nothing in his agitated manner of asking "Are you sure?" in such haste were they to pour out their information.
"Yes, it has been talked of for a long time, but is quite settled now. I was in the club last night when Elliot was having supper there, and he told us all to drink to his health to-day, for he would be the happiest man in the world. So that party up there is doubtless celebrating the betrothal."
"Besides, do you not recollect," added Captain Ross, "that when I met Miss Elliot the other night she told me her father would probably have some legal business to arrange, when Mr. Crawford returned from Paris, and then, she hoped, would come the announcement of a happy event? Crawford is there now, you see."
"The legal business in this case may include a settlement to be made on Elliot himself," laughed the other officer. "Can you understand people advertising their affairs so freely beforehand? He must have had reason to feel pretty confident. Well, I shall always think it a great shame. Miss Crawford is much too good for him, but it is not the first time she has played with a man in this way, and now, I suppose she finds herself too much involved to draw back, or Elliot has been sharp enough to make sure of her, unlike that dilatory young Bertram."
"Why, yes, besides being presumably a better bargain than a mere country parson," added Captain Ross. "I imagine they will live at Kellynch. When I last saw Wentworth he told me his sister, the tenant, was just leaving."
Fitzwilliam felt as if he could not bear more of this, but, making a great effort, he turned once more to Mr. Palmer and asked if he thought the rumour to be true. Mr. Palmer looked at him in some surprise.
"Yes, certainly, why not? There is not the slightest reason to doubt it. We have the evidence of our eyes and the word of one of the principal parties. My wife and her mother are going to call to-morrow and offer their congratulations."
Colonel Fitzwilliam hardly knew how he got away, what his three friends thought of him, or what General Stuart, whom he had met outside the lobby, could comprehend of his excuses for his abrupt departure. He only knew that he could not return to his place, watching the woman who possessed his whole heart in the company of the lover to whom she had promised herself. He must be alone, in the darkness and silence, to brace himself to endure the shock of what he had heard and realize all that would follow from it. He hastened through the streets, and shut himself up in his rooms, conscious only that this was a defeat, not a mere repulse such as he had received at Bath, but a defeat the completeness and finality of which admitted no rally on the losing side. Long he paced his room, struggling to fight down the anguish of his mind and to see clearly through his utter wretchedness what had happened and how. Even in the midst of his sufferings it was not difficult for him to piece together all the items of his knowledge into a connected whole. She had wearied of him at Bath; that must have been the beginning of it; he had not been able to gain her affection in a sufficient degree for it to be proof against Lady Catherine's attack. That catastrophe had swept him, equally with his cousins, away from whatever place he had held in Mary Crawford's esteem; and when he met her again in London, and could resume his efforts to recover that place, it was already occupied.
Was that, then, why she had seemed not to wish to be too friendly—because it was too late? He was forced to believe it; he could indeed easily believe anything that was a proof against her consideration, her goodness of heart, that had endeavoured to save him pain. He could and did believe that he had failed to win her, but that she could have accepted Sir Walter Elliot left him for many hours stunned and incredulous. That she, with her many gifts of mind and body, her true elegance, her sensibility, her refinement of breeding, placing her in almost a different world from the vulgar pretentiousness of Sir Walter and his daughter, which in Bath had so often seemed uncongenial to her, should now actually find such a man all-sufficient, and should consent to join her life with his, was an outrage, a madness—all the more so if she had drifted into it in the way the onlookers imagined. She could not know what she was doing. Her friends—what were they about? She must be warned. Fitzwilliam impulsively strode to the door, then stopped and flung himself down with a bitter laugh at his own folly—he to be raging through all the commonplace jealousies of a rejected lover, like any boy of nineteen! What could he or anyone else do? Miss Crawford was perfectly free to choose; she had a brother, with whose knowledge she was probably acting, and there was nothing to be alleged against Sir Walter Elliot's character. Recollecting the comments he had heard that evening, Fitzwilliam was forced to the same conclusions; to acknowledging that Miss Elliot, Mary's own friend, had in all probability promoted the match; that Henry Crawford, weak and unstable where women's persuasions were concerned, had allowed himself to be drawn into the Elliot net, and that his sister, though she could have little real regard for Sir Walter, wished to settle down and, her fortune making her independent of means in her future husband, had chosen where her fancy and a title attracted her.
How mean, how sordid was the whole story! Not the least heartrending of Colonel Fitzwilliam's reflections that night was that it could not be his Mary, the true Mary who had shown herself to him for a short time, who was now taking this step, so unworthy of her best self. For the woman he knew her to be, what happiness could be in store?
Georgiana was alone in the drawing-room of Mrs. Annesley's house on the following morning, practising the pianoforte, when the expected rap at the front door was heard, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was presently ushered into the room. She sprang up to welcome him, prepared for a cheerful greeting, but was unspeakably concerned at the sight of his haggard face and worn, exhausted looks, the more so because he made no attempt to account for them, but forced a smile, accepted the chair which she offered him, and endeavoured to speak as usual. Georgiana begged him to partake of some refreshment, and expressed a fear that he was ill, not daring to give utterance to her real conjecture.
"No, no, Georgiana, thank you. I will not have anything; I assure you I am not ill. I have only come to wish you good-bye, as I have changed my plans; I—I am thinking of going to Ireland."
"To Ireland!" repeated Georgiana in consternation.
"Yes, I have a friend who owns an estate there, and he has often invited me to come over and fish and shoot with him, so I shall start to-night, and take him by surprise, arriving early next week."
"But—to Ireland!" Georgiana could only repeat, so utterly bewildered was she. "Dear Cousin Robert, I am so sorry; I wish you need not ... would you not go to Pemberley? Elizabeth and Darcy would so gladly receive you, or do anything—"
"I know they would; there is nothing that goodness and kindness suggest that would not occur to them, but I do not think I could go there just at present. Will you give them my love, Georgiana, when you are next writing, and tell them of my movements? I will write to them from Ireland and give them my direction."
"Indeed, indeed, I will, but may I not tell them anything more? Oh, how I wish I could help you in any way," exclaimed Georgiana, anxiety showing itself so acutely in every syllable that Fitzwilliam was forced to get up to avert his face from hers, lest his self-command should be too sorely tried.
"My dear, kind little cousin, I shall always be grateful to you, even though I fear it is not in your power to help me just now. Some day, perhaps, we may speak of it; in the meantime—I have had a great disappointment, and I think I had better go away for awhile, so as to be more fit to meet my friends when I return." He came back to her, raised her up, and spoke with resolution and cheerfulness. "Come, Georgiana, do not be sad, it is not worth while. I shall probably be at Pemberley in the autumn, and we must do something then to make up for the loss of our exploration party now. Do not think of me—at least, only think of me as catching and eating a great many salmon. I hope you will have great deal of pleasure still in London. You return to the Hursts to-day, do you not? Will you make my excuses to Mrs. Annesley?"
During this speech Georgiana had striven to recover her composure, and she managed at the conclusion of it to look up at him with a tolerably calm face and to promise to deliver his messages. She felt convinced that he had been refused by Miss Crawford, and the situation was to her so dreadful, so far beyond repair, that it was a relief to see her cousin's courage, and to know that he did not wish to hear vain and spiritless words of consolation, words which she hardly could have been able to utter, even had he been able to listen, from the very surcharge of tender feeling that burdened her heart. Nevertheless, her sympathy was reflected in her eyes, and in the gentle voice with which she bid him adieu and wished him well. Fitzwilliam was not insensible to it. It gave him the only comfort he could have received at such a time; and pressing her hand warmly, with a very earnest "God bless you!" he quitted the room.
As his footsteps died away Georgiana sank into a chair and wept bitterly. So brief had been his visit—a few ticks of the clock had seen his arrival and his departure; and in those few moments the aspect of everything had changed. Since their last meeting Georgiana had dwelt incessantly upon his prospects of happiness, and allowed herself to think of them as being in a fair way to become realized. The difficulty which Elizabeth must have referred to, and Mr. Yates had actually hinted at, could surely be cleared away now that he and Miss Crawford had met again; and Georgiana had not been able to read cruelty or harshness in that fair face. Time only—a very short time—would be necessary, and once Miss Crawford knew Fitzwilliam as he was, the rest would follow as a matter of course: for how could any woman whom he really loved be able to resist him? So reasoned Georgiana, and the collapse of her kindly hopes brought back all her old sense of personal guilt; she, too, was partly responsible for her cousin's dire fate, for was she not one of the two women who had failed to make him happy? She who had not been able to inspire him with a real love, and Miss Crawford who could not respond to it now it was fully awakened.
The luxury of grief could not be long indulged in, for tear-stained features must not be shown to her friends, nor was there leisure that day to pour out her heart in a letter to Elizabeth. Georgiana had to keep her sorrowful thoughts to herself, and fortunately it was not necessary to give any explanation of Colonel Fitzwilliam's abrupt departure from town to Mrs. Annesley; the simple statement that he had gone, leaving apologies and suitable compliments, was sufficient. With her hostesses in Grosvenor Street, however, it was a different matter, and Georgiana lacked courage to introduce the subject until a morning or two later, at breakfast, choosing the moment when the letters had just been brought in and everyone had only that remnant of attention to spare which their meal and their correspondence had not absorbed. Mr. Hurst asked a question or two, which, as his wife and sister were speaking at the same time, went so long unanswered that he quite forgot them; Louisa showed surprise and offended dignity that the Colonel had not paid a farewell call on her before leaving; while Caroline, with less pride and a great deal of curiosity, attempted at first to draw Georgiana into some admission beyond the mere mention of the fact, but remembering by happy chance to have heard the name of the friend in Ireland, and even that of his estate, she was able to her own satisfaction to convert the mysterious journey into an engagement of respectably long standing. Georgiana breathed more freely; she had dreaded Miss Bingley's cross-examination, and still so dreaded anyone guessing at her cousin's misfortune that she even deviated so far from her usual truthfulness as to say, "Yes, probably he had been intending to go all the time, as soon as the weather should be suitable."
It was the greatest comfort to feel that with Elizabeth there need be no concealment. Already a description of the meeting with Miss Crawford had travelled to Pemberley, but with none but the simplest and most obvious comment; Georgiana asked, as directed by Fitzwilliam, for more particulars connected with her new acquaintance, but until she had been openly admitted to a share in her elders' knowledge she did not like to speak of what was still mere guesswork. But now, although Elizabeth's answer had not yet been received, she felt she could write more freely; she only had been allowed a glimpse of her cousin's inmost heart, she only had witnessed his grief and had been allowed to surmise its origin; she could be the indirect means of bringing him the quick sympathy of his two best friends, and she was justified in telling her sister of all she knew and all she conjectured. "He had been refused, dear Elizabeth," ran one sentence, "it can be nothing else, and I fear it is irrevocable. Poor Cousin Robert! He feels it so terribly. Can nothing be done for him? You know her, you know them both, he is sure to tell you all. Do help him, dear Elizabeth; you always help people who are in trouble."
Her letter closed and dispatched, she experienced a feeling of relief from strain, having left her cousin's affairs in more capable hands than her own. His sad face long haunted her, but the words she had written reminded her of another person who was now probably calling upon Elizabeth for sympathy and help. Not that Kitty had been by any means forgotten, but in the silence that followed on her departure, and the new interest that had occupied the last few days, the ball and its attendant emotions had been rather pushed to one side. But Georgiana had returned to Grosvenor Street fully expecting to find a letter from Derbyshire, or intelligence of Kitty in some other form.
Her own letter to Elizabeth, concluded the morning after the ball, had contained, in addition to an account of that memorable event, a paragraph to this effect: "Kitty has something extremely interesting to tell you. I shall not spoil her pleasure by anticipating her, but only add that I believe everything is going to turn out just as happily as she would like and as we should like for her. Pray, pray, give me your opinion on this important matter as soon as you can form one. I am longing to have it." A reply to this letter was indeed awaiting her, but did not give the desired information, as Elizabeth, though anxious to hear Kitty's news, had not yet had an opportunity of seeing her, and Kitty herself had not written. She was a wretched correspondent, and the delights of the first few days with Jane and the children doubtless absorbed both head and hands. Bingley's own notes to his sisters during that week were useless. One announced his and Kitty's safe arrival, another requested the forwarding of some stockings he had left behind; was it likely that such communications would have any bearing upon an important matter like the progress of a young lady's love affair? As to Mr. Price, Georgiana knew nothing, and was prepared for anything; it was quite possible that he had been unable to wait for the shooting of Mr. Bingley's pheasants and was at that moment in Derbyshire.
Upon this point, however, elucidation was presently forthcoming. At the dinner-table that afternoon Miss Bingley suddenly inquired: "Did I tell you, Georgiana, that we had a call from Charles's friend, Mr. Price, one day last week?"
"No," replied Georgiana, startled by such an abrupt incursion into the subject. "I had not heard. Were you at home? Did you see him?"
"Yes, we were all at home. He is an agreeable young fellow; manners a little too self-possessed, perhaps, for his age, but they are what these naval men acquire. He asked after you, rather as if he expected to find you here."
Georgiana said to herself that he wanted the latest news of Kitty, or, at all events, any he could not obtain from Mrs. Knightley, and was glad to be saved the necessity of replying aloud by Mrs. Hurst's beginning to speak. Yes, they had quite liked him; she thought of inviting him to fill a vacant place at a dinner she was giving the following week, for these young men who had travelled could always talk entertainingly enough to be worth while; but she would like to be assured of his character; she fancied he had been a good deal run after and spoilt, and certainly he was a great flirt.
Georgiana's heart swelled, and her pulse beat quick at such an accusation, while she uttered a mild but steady protest against it. Mrs. Hurst maintained her ground, but her young guest was supported by Miss Bingley, who said: "Nonsense, Louisa, you know I have told you there is really nothing in that. All these young officers, especially those who have seen service, are bound to be run after, whether they will or not. And as to his being a great flirt, we have seen him once or twice going about with a very good-looking woman, and that is all the reason we have for thinking so."
"How can you say such a thing, Caroline? Mr. Price is perfectly at liberty to go about with as many handsome women as he likes, even if their brothers are notoriously vicious, but if he is engaged to one of them—and from all we heard and saw at Emma Knightley's the other night he certainly ought to be—one has a right to expect a little more discretion."
"It is not at all certain that he is engaged to Kitty Bennet, I believe," said Caroline; "you know Emma Knightley's great schemes do not always come to anything." Georgiana was thereupon appealed to by both sisters to give a denial or confirmation of the fact alleged, and she could only say that she believed that at present he and Kitty were not engaged.
"That rather supports my opinion of him," said Mrs. Hurst. "But I shall be glad to be proved wrong. Georgiana, if you are behind the scenes, you must let us know as soon as there is anything to be told."
"And in the meantime, unless you think Mr. Price likely to injure our morals, you had better invite him to dinner," added her sister.
Georgiana felt unaccountably disturbed by this conversation. She could not bear hearing a person ill spoken of whom she had every wish and reason to like and esteem, and though she felt sure her own impressions of Mr. Price, which differed so widely from Mrs. Hurst's, were far more likely to be the correct ones, her timidity in trusting her own judgments caused her to pause and wonder whether she had been too hasty in being so impulsively delighted with him; ought she not, as Kitty's friend, to be more cautious until she had been sure that he was not going to disappoint the hopes of that friend? That hehadraised high hopes, Georgiana knew, but even supposing Kitty's imagination had been her strong ally, his attentions, and Kitty's willing acceptance of them, had clearly been such as to expose her to remark. Georgiana sighed over the difficulties of the whole problem. She could not bring herself to believe that William Price was a flirt, though the picture of him in constant attendance upon a handsome woman who had doubtful relations, when he should have thought only of Kitty, was an unwelcome one. No one with that countenance, that frank smile and clear honest eye could surely be other than he seemed, and yet—Georgiana had not to look far into the past to find a disappointment, as unexpected, as severe, as Mr. Price's defection could be. The persons who were apparently most attractive could often fail one most disastrously. With Miss Crawford's image on one side of her, and William Price's on the other, Georgiana felt that anything was possible, but she resolved to keep an open mind; she recollected that Kitty and Mrs. Knightley must know him more intimately than Mrs. Hurst did, and in trying to obliterate the latter's words from her mind she fell into a reverie, wherein she lived again through every joyous moment of Mrs. Knightley's ball.
During the ensuing week the long-wished-for letters arrived, but, as is usual in such cases, they fell far short of expectation. Which of us has not looked forward, some time or another, to receiving a letter which we are convinced will have an important effect upon our minds? It will clear up a mystery, give specific information, console us in affliction, or furnish the exact counsels which we need; we depend upon it for one or all of these things, and we continue to do so, even though the letter which arrives after so much anticipation is almost always inadequate. It tells us half instead of all we expected our correspondent to know, its advice has overlooked our difficulties and does not meet the case, its words of comfort are few and arid. Yet hope leads us ever on, and the envelope bearing our friend's handwriting is torn open with as much eagerness at the fiftieth crisis as at the first. Georgiana put down Elizabeth's letter with a feeling of disappointment, yet telling herself that she could not have expected anything else. Elizabeth wrote that various matters had prevented her from seeing Kitty up to that time, but that she had heard from Jane all particulars of Kitty's acquaintanceship with Mr. Price, with additional interest from having heard his name already from the Wentworths, and was inclined to entertain the most favourable hopes regarding it; it was difficult to say more without seeing the young people together, and they could only look forward to the visit in November, and trust to it to bring about the happiest results. This was the ordinary, sensible view, and Georgiana took up Kitty's letter wondering whether she was now calm enough in mind to be induced to take the same.
"Desborough Park,
"July.
"My Dear Georgiana,
"I make no apology for not writing, for you know what it is like here the first few days, so much to see, and Jane wanting me all the time, besides, you have all the news, now that I have left London there is nothing for me to relate. I received your letter from Mrs. Annesley's, but pray write again as soon as you possibly can and tell me if you have seen anything of Mr. P——. I was so enchanted to hear Miss Bingley ask him to call, as it meant I should hear of him from you. He stayed on quite a long time at the ball, and Mrs. Knightley told me he thanked her in such aparticularandunmistakableway when he said good-night! I forgot to ask you, do you not think he dances exquisitely? I have never worn that rose-coloured gown since. How I long for November! What shall I do if he is prevented? I cannot describe how thankful I am that I did not go with Lydia to the West Indies. I have seen Mr. Morland, whom you told me of, a great many times; indeed, he spends half his time here, as Jane and Bingley are very fond of him. He is very pleasant, considering he is a clergyman. He is laying out his garden at the Rectory afresh, and Jane is giving him a quantity of plants, so we go down there frequently to help him to put them in. Now I must conclude, as Mr. Morland is coming to take me out in a boat on the lake. It will be very amusing, as I have never been able to get near enough to the water-lilies to gather them, but as I say to Mr. Morland, we can neither of us swim, and what will happen then? Jane sends you many messages.
"Your affectionate friend."
A postscript on another page added: "Mrs. K. says that Mr. P. is likely to be made commander very soon. I hope he will not be, for he would have to join the ship immediately, but would notCaptain Pricesound well?"
Captain Pricesounded very well; even Georgiana could not help thinking so, as she smiled over Kitty's artless question, which resented the promotion while it welcomed the title. This letter, too, was just what might have been expected; Kitty was nursing her attachment in the country just as she had nursed it in town, and Georgiana was called upon to supply it with nourishment. She would have to wait until after she had seen Mr. Price to know whether any was forthcoming.
Mrs. Hurst's dinner-party took place, and closely resembled every other function of the same kind in fashionable houses, being very long, very correct and very sumptuous. Georgiana wished that Louisa would place her next to Mr. Price, but this was not done, and accordingly, though he walked straight towards her after having spoken to his host and hostesses, he had scarcely inquired after her health before he was drawn away to be introduced to his dinner partner, while Georgiana was accosted by hers, a certain Captain Wentworth whom, with his wife, she had met in Bath the year before. The Wentworths went there regularly, and the friendship which existed between them and the Darcy family had been renewed there in the previous April. On one occasion, when they had all happened to be in town together, Elizabeth had introduced the Wentworths to Mrs. Hurst, and the result had been a liking on the part of that lady stronger than with her cold and narrow disposition she was usually inclined to form. The liking was not, perhaps, quite so heartily returned, but Captain Wentworth was sociable and enjoyed mixing with the world, and Anne's tender solicitude for him caused her to accept willingly any invitations likely to procure him amusement, both at Winchester, where they lived, and in the course of their frequent visits to town.
Captain Wentworth well remembered Mr. and Mrs. Darcy's shy, handsome sister, and prepared for a pleasant evening when he found in her less of the former quality, and even more than she had used to possess of the latter. On her other side was seated the alarming Mr. Knightley, and Georgiana was glad to find she had at all events one companion so conversable as Captain Wentworth, who belonged to the profession she was most interested in, even though he was not the representative of it which she would have chosen.
Their talk was lively, for Captain Wentworth had the art of treating subjects amusingly, and of drawing from his companion professions of opinion which she had not till then known herself to hold. Somehow or other they had drifted on to the topic of inconsistency in sailors, and Captain Wentworth gravely undertook their defence against this charge.
"I assure you, Miss Darcy, it is a great mistake, made only because people are unacquainted with our true character. It is of long standing, but a fallacy just as much as many other accepted fallacies—for instance, that parrots always talk bad language, that ladies cannot keep accounts, that the King can do no wrong, etc."
"Oh, stop, please, Captain Wentworth," interposed Georgiana. "You are opening up too many vexed questions. I was going to say," she added more seriously, "that no doubt you are quite right, but I should think if they are inconstant it would not be so very strange, for they must have so many temptations."
"Not at all; I protest they have no more excuse on that head than any other class of man. If a man is inconstant by nature, he will be so, whether he is a sailor or a butcher's assistant. I speak from experience, for I know I tried very hard to be inconstant, and could not succeed, though I had as many temptations as mist."
"Knowing Mrs. Wentworth," said Georgiana, with a smile at that lady, "I cannot help being aware of how strong a temptation you had to be the reverse."
"Exactly; and so would it be with anyone who had once given whatever affection he had to bestow. How have you got the idea, Miss Darcy, that we poor men of the sea are so fickle?"
"Indeed, no, I have not got it," replied Georgiana, trying to speak lightly. "I was merely speculating, for I know too little about it to form any judgments. It was put into my mind through hearing someone say that young officers were so much sought after everywhere; and I thought, if that were so, it was only natural that the amiable ones might find, eventually, that they had formed many more friendships than they could possibly keep up."
"Very considerately put, Miss Darcy; but, in effect, what you mean is that they continually 'love and ride away.' Sailors may have more opportunity for that kind of living, but, upon my word, I do not believe they have more inclination. But granting that it is so, I gather that you are prepared to forgive them this little weakness?"
"That is asking rather too much, Captain Wentworth," replied Georgiana, in the same spirit of gaiety. Had she spoken the whole truth, she would have said: "Certainly not, if any friend of mine were involved," but not wishing her companion to think that their chat had any personal application, she continued: "I shall be able to tell better when I have met with such a case," and turned the subject off with a smile.
Soon after the ladies returned to the drawing-room Georgiana seated herself beside Mrs. Wentworth, whose gentle manners, combined with serenity of temper and the power she had of entering, unobtrusively, but none the less sincerely, into the feelings of others, had for Georgiana a strong attraction. They had not met for so long that there was much to be talked over between them. Mrs. Wentworth presently asked after Colonel Fitzwilliam, and explained that she happened to know he was in town through seeing him a few nights previously at the theatre, where she had been with a party invited by her father and sister. Georgiana replied that he was well, but had gone away since then; and so as not to dwell on the subject, asked for a description of the play, which led them on to other topics of interest, when they were interrupted by Mrs. Knightley's joining them. Her errand was merely to ask for news of Kitty, and Georgiana, rather than resenting the smile of mutual understanding with which the question was put, answered as briefly as she could without discourtesy.
Mrs. Knightley then began talking of other things, and resettled herself in her chair, so that Georgiana despaired of having Mrs. Wentworth to herself any more that evening; but perceiving she was not wanted elsewhere, she continued to retain her place until the gentlemen entered the room, simultaneously with the tea and coffee, which the servants began to dispense. Mr. Price obtained cups immediately, and brought them across the room to the group of ladies, at once warmly greeting Mrs. Wentworth. Mrs. Knightley remained beside them, and Georgiana indulged in a little private regret, partly on her own account and partly on his, for she knew he must be wanting to talk to her about Kitty, and since there was music during the evening, the present might be the only opportunity they would have. She began to think of moving away, for Mr. Price seemed quite monopolized by Mrs. Knightley, who was endeavouring to show him off by asking him questions and calling Mrs. Wentworth's attention to the answers; and though Georgiana was grateful to his efforts to draw her in, by an occasional smiling glance at her and a "Don't you think so, Miss Darcy?" there did not seem to be any place for a fourth in their conversation.
Presently, however, an interruption arrived in the person of Captain Wentworth, who came, with coffee-cup in hand, to join their group, and as Mr. Price stood aside to give him room, he exclaimed cheerfully: "Well, Price, have you and my wife undertaken the conversion of Miss Darcy yet? Here has someone been deluding her with most horrible picture of us sailors—'one foot on sea, and one on shore, to one thing constant never'—you know the rest of it. I have been trying to persuade her that it is all wrong."
Georgiana, blushing and smiling, began to protest, and Mrs. Wentworth, to spare her, also treated it as a joke, but Mrs. Knightley, when she had comprehended Captain Wentworth's meaning, gave her a look of no great goodwill, and said: "Surely Miss Darcy does not take seriously what is merely a vulgar tradition. 'Men were deceivers ever' was not written with special reference to sailors, I imagine, but to men in general."
"Of course not," said Captain Wentworth, with mock gravity; "but Miss Darcy does not base her suspicions on those lines only, but on far more serious premises."
"Frederick, I will not have you tease Miss Darcy so unmercifully," said Mrs. Wentworth. "It is really too bad. I am sure you have placed words in her mouth which she never uttered, has he not, Miss Darcy?"
Georgiana, struggling with embarrassment, amusement and not a little real vexation, as she was conscious of Mr. Price's eyes being turned silently upon her, could not protest as intelligibly as she would have wished. "Yes, Mrs. Wentworth, it is quite untrue—I never said anything of the kind. Captain Wentworth, you are unfair—not that it really matters—but I said I had no opinion on the subject—I only thought I could quite understand their being changeable, if they were."
Whether her hearers could extract any meaning from these words, she did not know, but it was certain that her confusion stood her in good stead, for Captain Wentworth immediately apologized with just as much seriousness as was needful. "I am very sorry, Miss Darcy; pray excuse my stupidity. I was so distressed to feel that we, as a class, should merit your disapproval in even one particular, that I wanted to clear our characters—and, after all, you are so kind as to imply that they needed no clearing."
"I do not think Miss Darcy implied that," said Mrs. Knightley, "and I confess myself curious to learn why she thinks naval men are likely to be changeable; it would be interesting to compare notes, for my experience of them has led me to the opposite conclusion."
Georgiana felt the double edge in Mrs. Knightley's words, and it was painful to her to be so completely misunderstood, even in such a trifling matter; but she had hardly recovered her composure enough to defend herself when Captain Wentworth took the matter out of her hands.
"Miss Darcy's experience of inconstancy in sailors has been a sad one, Mrs. Knightley," he said solemnly. "It is drawn entirely from books and plays, and we know how persistently they look on the dark side of human nature. She only needs to become acquainted better with real life, as personified in myself, Mr. Price" (with a bow to William) "and many other admirable specimens of naval men, to form the soundest of opinions of us. Pardon me, Miss Darcy, for assuming the role of spokesman, but I fancied the fear of offending my modesty might have prevented you from expressing such sentiments as you would wish."
"I hope you will always interpret me as correctly as you have done, Captain Wentworth," returned Georgiana, smiling; and seeing that Mrs. Knightley was beginning to speak in a low tone to Mr. Price, and not wishing to hear any of her comments, she turned to Mrs. Wentworth and proposed that they should move to chairs nearer the pianoforte. They therefore turned in that direction, but Mr. Price could hardly have any time to reply to Mrs. Knightley, for an instant later he was at Georgiana's side, asking if he might find her a seat; and Mrs. Wentworth being just then drawn away by Miss Bingley, she not unwillingly allowed him to lead her to a sofa on the opposite side of the room, to procure her another cup of coffee, her own having been removed, and to sit beside her, talking quietly and agreeably in a manner that soothed her nerves, irritated as they were by Captain Wentworth's ill-timed raillery. She listened absently, without saying much, grateful to him for not renewing the subject which had just been dropped and hoping he had not attached any importance to it; but her attention was all alert when after a pause he inquired: "Have you good accounts of Miss Bennet since she left town?"
She tried to collect her scattered ideas, to remember what Kitty expected of her. Yes, she had had good accounts; she thought her friend was very well and, she believed, enjoying the country, though it probably seemed very quiet to her after such a long visit to London.
William Price assented, and said that Miss Bennet had so much freshness and enthusiasm, she could enjoy many things, and enter keenly into them all.
Georgiana fully endorsed this, but thought that Kitty had had a particularly delightful visit to town this year and really regretted leaving.
William Price said that Miss Bennet's friends were very sorry to lose her.
"This is all very well," thought Georgiana, "but we do not get any farther. Am I shy of him, or is he shy of me? Oh, I wonder what Kitty would like me to say? If I were Mrs. Knightley I could probably bring in the inconstancy of sailors with good effect. I suppose she thinks that I mean to throw a doubt on Mr. Price; how unlucky that it should have had that appearance!"
She was assisted in her meditations by Mr. Price's remarking that he had never been in Derbyshire, and imagined it to be a beautiful county, and this afforded her the opportunity of descanting on the loveliness of its scenery and the particular attractions of the country round Desborough Park. She added that she hoped there would be nothing to prevent him from seeing it for himself that autumn, and he replied warmly, agreeing and saying that if he were still his own master at that time nothing should prevent it. A question or two about Pemberley followed, and the relative positions of the two houses; he had heard of it as being a show place from his sister, Mrs. Bertram, who had made a tour through the midland counties to visit all the cathedrals and old churches, but, he declared, had actually been so worldly as to look at one or two of the grand mansions as well. Georgiana questioned its worldliness, and was told that his brother and sister were the dearest people, but dreadfully good; they thought everything wrong.
This description, of which Georgiana would have liked to have heard more, was interrupted by a song, and at its conclusion Mr. Price was waiting with the inquiry: "Do you return to Pemberley soon, Miss Darcy?"
"In about a month, I think; but I leave town in a fortnight's time to stay with my aunt at Hunsford."
"I am leaving London almost immediately, I am sorry to say," said William Price. "I have to go down to Portsmouth, where my mother is changing houses, and as she has that and a quantity of lawyers' business on her hands, since my father died, she wishes me to help her."
Georgiana could not but approve of this decision, but she thought it partly accounted for the young man's being in far less good spirits this evening than on the previous occasion; he evidently did not like to quit London. She was endeavouring to think of a way of conveying to him that she would see Kitty almost as soon as she reached home, when the opening of a solo on the harp caused her to forget everything but the sound of the instrument, in which she had always taken extreme delight. Mr. Price, too, listened with close attention, and when it was over, and they were commending the performance, he exclaimed: "The harp always reminds me of one of the most charming women I ever knew, who used to play it—still does, I daresay, at all events it is associated inseparably with her."
Curiosity as well as politeness impelled Georgiana to ask for more particulars, for she privately wished very much to know what her companion's idea of a charming woman might be, and he answered readily enough: "She was a lady I first met some years ago at Mansfield before my sister's marriage; she was a friend of the whole Bertram family, and, in a way, of my sister's also; but circumstances divided them, Miss Crawford's people left the neighbourhood, and now I only see her occasionally in town."
Miss Darcy's start and heightening of colour did not escape him; he looked inquiringly at her, and question and answer broke from them both simultaneously. "Yes, I have met Miss Crawford," said Georgiana, "what a very strange thing! I was introduced to her in the gardens the other day by—by a mutual friend, and I had heard of her before from my brother and sister."
"That is indeed strange! I wish I had known when I was with her last. I have been seeing a good deal of Mrs. Grant, her sister, and Miss Crawford lately, being myself that abomination, an idle man about town, but it has just this once had its agreeable side."
Georgiana murmured that she had supposed he was seldom in London for so long, and he continued, with perfect ease and frankness: "Quite true; indeed, I have never before had time to see the sights; and Miss Crawford, who is a regular Londoner, takes me about to them, in order, she says, to waste my time as usefully as possible. To-day we were at a picture gallery, and last week we went to see an exhibition of silver, models of ships, most interesting and unusual it was; I would not have missed it for the world. The curious design and rigging of them! I should like to have shown them to you, Miss Darcy."
Georgiana echoed his wish, but was so much interested in pursuing her theory that Miss Crawford was the handsome young woman Mrs. Hurst had spoken of, that she ventured one more question: "You said you had known Miss Crawford for some time, Mr. Price?"
"Oh, yes, for years; looking back on it, I must have been quite a small boy when we first met; at all events, I regarded her as being one of my elders. That is a very ungallant thing to say, is it not? I do not know why I said it. But I always had a great regard for her, and when the families were alienated I always tried to keep in touch with her and Mrs. Grant, for the severance was through no fault of hers, only her brother's—though I know the blame for it has often been laid at her door."
How easy it is to believe in people, if only we wish to do so! This speech fully accounted for all that had been heard of Mr. Price, and acquitted him of any lightness of conduct; he had merely been faithful to an old friend; and Miss Crawford was only proved more worthy than before of Colonel Fitzwilliam's esteem. Georgiana longed to inquire further, to see if Mr. Price could throw more light on the recent perplexing event, but felt it would be presumption to do so, and he sat musing for a few moments, unaware of the sentiments he had aroused in his companion, until, in response to a remark from her, he exclaimed warmly: "Yes, she is indeed a beautiful woman, and as charming as beautiful. You would like her, Miss Darcy, if you knew her. I heard this evening that she was engaged; I do not know if it is true, but I am inclined to hope not if I heard the name aright; still, one must presume it will be all for the best."
He spoke the last words somewhat hurriedly, as if not wishing to dwell on them, but could not overlook the anxiety in Georgiana's face and voice. "Is she engaged, Mr. Price? I thought perhaps that might be the case. Do you know to whom it is?"
"I heard a name mentioned, Miss Darcy, but I do not like—I am uncertain whether it is correct—I should like to verify it first," said William Price, in some embarrassment.
"Of course, I quite understand. It would not be fair to say anything until you are sure. But no doubt it is true." And Georgiana, with a sigh, fell into a reverie, which her companion, observing her with solicitude, did not venture to interrupt.
They were divided a few minutes later, Georgiana being called upon to contribute a solo upon the pianoforte, and she could not help feeling gratified to see that William Price listened attentively to her playing, for the love of music was in her eyes, an additionally attractive feature in anyone's character. These were the pleasantest impressions she derived from the evening, for on the whole they had been sad ones; she had inadvertently exposed herself to being misunderstood by Mrs. Knightley, and perhaps by Mrs. Wentworth, for whose esteem she cared far more; she had not been able to say one word to help Kitty, and would have no news to give of the kind that Kitty was longing for; and, worst of all, her fears for her cousin were confirmed; instead of anyone being able to help him, he could only be told that the disappointment he had experienced was a final and permanent one. Georgiana's thoughts were all for him; they hardly even strayed to speculate upon Miss Crawford's choice, except for a touch of wondering pity for one who had possessed his regard and thrown it away for another's. No; the world was determinedly awry, and Georgiana went to bed longing for the comfort of Elizabeth and Pemberley, and dreading the days to be spent under the judicial and unsympathetic eye of her Aunt Catherine.