Elizabeth and her husband desired Georgiana's return as much as she did herself, but Lady Catherine had been very urgent that her niece should visit her, and they judged it right that she should take the opportunity of going, while comparatively near Rosings. Georgiana had never before stayed there without the protection of her brother's or sister's presence; but she found it to be less alarming than she feared, for her aunt was probably disposed to be more complaisant and less dictatorial to her than to any other living creature; and while not comprehending her niece's character in the least, wished to make her happy, if it were possible to be happy, in the best Rosings manner. So Georgiana obediently played the piano, joined in games of quadrille, drove out with her cousin in the pony chaise, endured her aunt's admonishments, and listened politely to Lady Catherine's long stories about her own youth; and the time did at length pass away, though not until she had many times decided that London, even with the agitations that it had afforded this year, was far less wearing to the temper and spirits.
The date of her homecoming was fixed for the fifth of August, and an escort was unexpectedly found in the person of Mr. Bennet, who had made one of his sudden resolves to go and stay with his two daughters, Mrs. Bennet having the prospect of her sister, Mrs. Phillips's, companionship throughout that month. Georgiana was enchanted when this decision was conveyed to her, as it ensured that no postponement of the journey would be made upon any pretext. Mr. Bennet had proposed visiting his daughters and bringing back Kitty, and the first part of this suggestion was warmly welcomed; the second they could not promise to accede to, but Mr. Bennet would be conferring a signal service if he would meet Miss Darcy in London and bring her home. Mr. Bennet declared himself quite agreeable; let Miss Darcy name her own day for starting, and it should be his; but once named, it must be considered fixed, for Mr. Bennet, it must be noted, had a wife and five daughters, and knew something of the variability of the female mind. He had, however, never been in less danger of a change of plans than on this occasion.
Elizabeth had received the first intimation of her father's intended visit shortly after dispatching to Georgiana the letter which has been mentioned, and having now so many matters to talk over with Jane, she determined on going to Desborough without delay. An hour or two's chat would not be sufficient, and she therefore arranged to stay for a night and return the following afternoon, and pressed Darcy to accompany her; but this he declined to do, telling her that he should only be in the way when she, Jane and Kitty were putting their heads together for a feminine conclave, and Bingley was as bad as the rest.
It happened that Jane was alone when she arrived, Bingley being out riding with Kitty and Mr. Morland; but he was not long in returning, and when Kitty had greeted her sister, and retired to change her dress, he joined the conference, as Darcy had foretold.
"Well, Elizabeth," he began, "and how do you find Kitty? I never saw her in better looks. And has Jane told you about my young friend in London, who, it appears, is an admirer of hers? I declare I had not an idea of it when I asked him to come down, but it turns out very well as it happens."
Elizabeth admitted herself informed, and asked Bingley for particulars of Mr. Price's character, appearance and manners, of which it was to be presumed he could give a more reasonable account than Kitty. He spoke warmly in the young man's praise, and mentioned what he had heard of his family and connections from Mr. Yates.
"It seems most satisfactory," said Elizabeth, "and his being a friend of the Wentworths is a further recommendation. I am quite looking forward to meeting him, though time alone will show if there is anything in it."
"Kitty has set her heart on it to such an extent, that I feel extremely anxious that she may have no disappointment," said Jane with tenderness. "It would be enough to make her ill, her sensibilities are so acute! One can see how she watches for the letters from Mrs. Knightley, and the eagerness with which she reads them."
"Whatever Mrs. Knightley may do," said Elizabeth, "in my opinion we should not be acting wisely by Kitty in encouraging her to talk and think much about it. On the young man's side it has not gone beyond a promising inclination, I infer, and it may never be more."
"You are a prudent creature, Elizabeth," exclaimed her brother-in-law; "but as regards Kitty, your precautions are too late, as I know to my cost. There was I thinking I was bringing down the very girl for Morland to fall in love with—indeed, I had almost told him so—and now it appears she is more than half engaged to someone else, and what good is that to a man who wants a wife to establish in that big house of his?"
"Well," said Elizabeth, laughing, "you need not reproach yourself, Charles. A house and living were promised to Mr. Morland; but a wife, I believe, was not in the bond."
"It would have been very pleasant to have provided him with one, nevertheless," returned Bingley. "As it is, they see a great deal of each other, and are such excellent friends, that if it were not all such a profound secret it would be incumbent on me to give him a hint of the state of things."
Elizabeth looked at her sister for confirmation of this, and Jane replied: "Yes, they are good friends. Kitty seems to enjoy his companionship, and he has evidently a strong liking for her, so that I sometimes feel afraid lest it should develop into anything likely to cause him pain hereafter. But, of course, as I have repeatedly told Bingley, even in view of such a contingency we have no right to betray our knowledge of Kitty's private hopes."
As Mr. Morland dined at Desborough, Elizabeth had an opportunity of observing the young people, and she thought she had seldom seen Kitty to greater advantage; her particularly delicate beauty was heightened partly by excitement and partly by the healthful country life. She was at perfect ease, happy with her sisters and Mr. Bingley, and treating Mr. Morland much as she would have treated an elderly friend of the family, not as a man to be captivated. The feeling of frank goodfellowship which he seemed to inspire was a simple and wholesome one, and Elizabeth tried to rest assured that Mr. Morland was aware of Kitty's attitude towards him and wished for nothing more. That, indeed, was the impression he gave; but the longer she was with him, the more clearly she perceived that now his circumstances were more settled a quiet contentment, an evenness of temper, had become habitual to him, without taking away the earnestness, the steadfastness of purpose, which underlay the whole. She felt that she did not yet thoroughly know Mr. Morland; and the following morning, in the course of a brief talk with Kitty, she suggested to her in the gentlest possible way of the desirability of not allowing so excellent a young man, who was also a solitary one, to entertain thoughts of her which might be so much more easily admitted to his mind than expelled from it. Kitty had just been giving wings to her imagination in a description of Mr. Price, which Elizabeth had felt herself hard-hearted to be obliged to check, and the young girl with difficulty came down to earth again to Mr. Morland, to assure Elizabeth, with all haste of indifference, that she was positive that Morland did not think of her in that way; he only cared for his parish and his house, and as for his being solitary—why, his sister Sarah was coming to live with him.
Elizabeth was compelled to be content, and, in addition, she secured a promise from Jane that Kitty should come to Pemberley about the middle of September. Kitty was delighted with the arrangement, so long as there was one which secured her return to Desborough for the shooting-party early in November. Her eldest sister exhibited an almost equal amount of eagerness on her behalf to settle this important matter; and Kitty, who had been living in terror lest some cruel fate should intervene to send her back to Longbourn before that time, breathed more freely when her sisters undertook to obtain her father's consent to such a long absence.
Mr. Bennet and Georgiana duly arrived at Pemberley, and were welcomed with all the warmth that affection could show. They had been a curiously assorted pair of travelling companions, and their relations had speculated with amusement upon their chances of congeniality. Neither being talkers, they had at least had that in common, though after their arrival Georgiana smilingly reproached Mr. Bennet with having intently studied a book of Latin poetry throughout the whole journey, and Mr. Bennet gravely apologized for not having selected a volume more suitable for reading aloud; he was sorry he had not been at more pains to while away the time for a young lady who was exceedingly punctual, and always ready when the carriage came round. For his own part, he declared that he felt himself becoming more conversational with every mile of the way, in proof of which he twice voluntarily told Elizabeth during the first hour that he was glad to see her again, and announced that, after his own library, there was no place he would sooner be in than Mr. Darcy's.
The first evening was a cheerful one, there was so much to say, so many friends to inquire after, adventures to relate, and plans to detail. The children were brought in, and, according to the time-honoured custom everywhere, were pronounced to have grown, though it is to be feared that Mr. Bennet was not an ideal grandparent, for he so far miscalculated as to bring them toys which they could not properly appreciate for some years at least; and Elizabeth wanted to hear of little William and Elizabeth Collins, with whom Georgiana had often played at Hunsford Parsonage, and who were described as being strikingly like their father and mother respectively.
It was not until the following day, when the sisters were alone together, that any words passed between them concerning Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth showed Georgiana a few brief lines she had received from him, stating little more than the bare facts of his departure and its cause. "She is engaged, and it is all over for me now. At all events, I know the worst," he wrote. "Do not be too compassionate for me, Elizabeth. I have been a fool, to think that anything so bright and lovely should become mine. Yet I did not think she would bestow herself where she has. I was a laggard, I suppose, and I threw my chance away in Bath; and how could she wait until I had reinstated myself? No, my dream is over. You will hear of her engagement, no doubt, and I beg you to tell her that I join with you in wishes for her happiness. I shall be with you at Pemberley before long. Georgiana is an angel. I did not deserve from her one quarter of the kindness she showed me."
In a postscript he added: "Will Darcy trust me to choose him a horse? I have seen a beautiful pair of bays, that would suit your large carriage, besides a perfect chestnut hunter."
Georgiana sighed and smiled over the letter, and Elizabeth said: "Yes, he evidently does not wish us to think he is overwhelmed by it, though from what he doesnotsay I can realize the depth of his feeling. It is incredible; for, of course, it must be Sir Walter Elliot."
Sir Walter's was only a name to Georgiana, a vague recollection from the last year at Bath, and she replied that she had heard of the engagement from another source, without particulars. Elizabeth gave a vigorous description of him and ended by saying that she should wait and see if the necessity for writing to Miss Crawford arose, for she did not feel much disposed to congratulate her.
Kitty's affairs were, of course, passed under review, and Elizabeth was somewhat surprised to find that Georgiana was a staunch upholder of the notion that William Price was likely to make her an offer, as she had fancied that the accounts might have been exaggerated, and that Georgiana would be the one to take a sober and dispassionate view. But her asseverations of her belief that Mr. Price's truth and steadiness, and in Kitty's being unlikely to have deceived herself in this case, went farther to convince Elizabeth than anything she had heard before.
The next few weeks passed in tranquil enjoyment for all the persons in the Pemberley circle, in which must be comprised the party from Desborough, as no plan of any importance could be carried through without the joining of forces, and the inclusion of Mr. Morland on the one side and the Ferrars from Pemberley Rectory on the other. The Bingleys, with the two young people, frequently drove over to spend a day or two days, and when Mr. Bennet removed to Desborough towards the end of August, it was not felt to be so much of a break-up as a changing of the scene of their activities. Boating expeditions, rides over the moors, blackberry gatherings, or evenings spent quietly at home in games or music, something could always be found to suit the tastes of a party of people who were bent on finding pleasure in each other's company; even Kitty felt that only one thing was wanting to fill her cup of happiness to the brim, for her father had sanctioned her staying on until November, the month, she hoped, which would see its overflow.
For one person, however, this peaceful time was about to end in pain and disappointment. Mrs. Bingley and her sister were sitting indoors together one morning in the middle of September, when Mr. Morland was observed approaching the house. He was such a frequent caller that it had become a habit with him to walk straight in, and the ladies, after waiting for some time, wondered at his non-appearance, and still more at the intelligence brought by a servant, in answer to Jane's summons, that Mr. Morland had asked only for Mr. Bennet, and had been shown into the library.
"What can he want with my father?" said Jane, a suspicion of the truth shooting across her mind and checking her utterance, as she glanced anxiously at her sister; but no such idea seemed to have occurred to Kitty, who innocently conjectured their interview to be a literary conference, or a discussion that had arisen out of Mr. Morland's sermon-making.
Mr. Bennet, on perceiving his visitor, might have anticipated something of the kind, but Mr. Morland's first words corrected him. The young man's errand was indeed nothing more or less than to make a formal proposal for the hand of Mr. Bennet's daughter and to request permission to address her. He was nervous, as men in his situation are apt to be, but genuine feeling and sound sense enabled him to state his case well, if not very fluently, as he represented the strength of his attachment and described his worldly position and prospects.
Mr. Bennet had long ceased to be surprised at receiving applications of the kind, however unexpected they might be, and certainly this one found him quite unprepared. What little thought he had given to the subject had certainly not led him to the supposition of Mr. Morland's becoming his son-in-law, and he endeavoured to make his answer a discouraging one.
"My daughter will be much honoured by your high opinion of her, Mr. Morland, and I have no reason to think ill of your pretensions; but I must admit that I have not remarked on her part any strong prepossession in your favour."
"It is one of the things I have found most charming in Miss Bennet's character, sir," replied Morland, "that she would not easily give her heart away, or readily suppose a man to be enslaved by her. No one else could have failed to perceive the depth of my admiration, but she has seemed quite unconscious of it, though at the same time I am fully aware that there is no brilliancy or distinction about me, nothing to attract anyone who herself possesses a full measure of those qualities."
He looked so downcast that Mr. Bennet remarked: "If that were the question, Mr. Morland, you might set your mind at rest, for my daughter, though a very good girl, is not brilliant, nor would she be comfortable with a husband of that description."
This observation inspired Mr. Morland to a fairly long speech, in which he extolled Kitty's amiable qualities and dwelt on his own demerits, but notwithstanding the contrast thereby presented, he was able to deduce a number of excellent reasons for his being allowed to propose to Miss Bennet without delay. Mr. Bennet heard him in silence, and at the end replied that, though flattered by Mr. Morland's first referring to him, who was merely the father of the young lady, he could not answer for his daughter's sentiments; he had found that in these matters his girls had always made up their own minds, and no doubt would continue to do so.
"Indeed, yes, it is with Miss Bennet that I must plead my own cause; but you will not refuse me your sanction?" said the young man, eagerly. "You think so far favourably of my suit that you will place no bar in the way of my—I trust I may in time sayourperfect happiness?"
"No, Mr. Morland, the way to your perfect happiness is open as far as I am concerned," replied Mr. Bennet, taking up a book.
Morland's satisfaction at having the father even passively on his side was very great, and he spoke his gratitude very warmly, mingling with it such praises of Kitty, and such rosy prognostications of the future, as caused Mr. Bennet to reply, in characteristic fashion: "Let me know when the time comes to wish you joy, Mr. Morland, and I will do it, but life is so uncertain that I think for the present I had better refrain. Have you ascertained whether Kitty can cook, make her own gowns, and trim hats? I understand it is a great promoter of married happiness when the wife can do so, and I am not sure whether all my girls have turned their education to such good account."
Mr. Morland only replied by asking if he might be allowed to see Miss Bennet at once, and her father left the room, foreseeing that, whatever happened, he should not have one more quiet hour during that day. His anticipations were soon in the way to be fulfilled, for on finding his daughters, and sending Kitty to the library, he had to give Jane an outline of what had just passed, then repeat it to Bingley, who joined them, and listened to their exclamations of surprise, and regret at the probable downfall of Mr. Morland's hopes. Jane and Bingley were both too convinced of Kitty's prior attachment to have the slightest expectation of his success, and Mr. Bennet was put in full possession of the facts relating to it, while they anxiously awaited the termination of the interview.
It came, after some minutes, in a glimpse of Kitty emerging from the library and hurrying upstairs with streaming eyes, and while they all debated as to their next move, Mr. Morland was seen to cross the hall rapidly, looking nowhere but in front of him, and leave the house with precipitation. Jane herself, almost equally distressed, longed to go to Kitty, and Bingley questioned whether he ought not to hasten after the young man, while Mr. Bennet was disposed to think they would be better left to themselves for a time, and wished heartily that there were only just enough lovers in the world to go round, one to each young lady, and none over.
In spite of this, Jane was not long in finding her way to her agitated sister and in showing her the tenderest consideration. Kitty's distress was very great, and also very sincere, for she had in truth been far from guessing that Mr. Morland took a more than common interest in her, and as is usual in such cases, the declaration of the young man's love woke in her feelings which she had not known to exist, of reciprocal kindness and even affection, which only did not share the nature and strength of his. Kitty could never have been hard-hearted to any lover, least of all to one whom she liked as much as she did James Morland, and his devotion touched her as deeply as the knowledge that she could not accept it wounded her. Between regrets for what had happened, pity for him and for herself, and the excited thoughts of William Price which the incident itself was bound to evoke, she was in a sad state, and Jane easily prevailed upon her to have her dinner upstairs and go early to bed. Not so easily could she check the tears which flowed continuously, and Jane, to occupy her mind and body, proposed that she should go to-morrow to Pemberley, instead of in three days' time, as arranged; she could very well be sent over, and the change would be beneficial; besides, she was not really leaving them, for there was the November visit to look forward to. Kitty caught at the suggestion, and declining the offices of the maid, began to busy herself about her packing, as Jane hoped she would do, while the latter descended to consult with her husband and father.
Mr. Bennet and Bingley both approved, and Jane hastily wrote a few lines to Elizabeth to apprise her of what had happened, that she might be prepared for Kitty's arrival. The two gentlemen walked to the nearest post town to convey the letter; and after dinner the indefatigable Bingley again set out, this time to the Rectory, to perform the same kind office by James Morland as his wife had been doing by Kitty. The young man, though calmer, proved far more unreceptive of consolation. He had felt his rebuff acutely, for Kitty had been too much taken by surprise, too sure of herself, to make it otherwise than decisive, and even the modest hopes he had ventured to entertain, of being able to make more progress with her once the subject was opened between them, had been most thoroughly dispelled. Miss Bennet would not hear another word of it—begged him never to speak of it again—with tears reproached him for having spoilt everything, so that in addition to his own disappointment he had the pain of feeling that she thought less well of him than before. Bingley could deny this, but could not affirm anything else likely to give him comfort. It remained for Morland himself to declare, which he did in a firm though melancholy tone, that he regretted having distressed Miss Bennet, and would endeavour so to meet her in the future that she would not suffer through being reminded of it by any act of word of his. Bingley commended his courage, told him of Kitty's departure, and begged him to continue coming to Desborough just the same; and walked home with a full report of what had just passed.
Jane shook her head over it, for, while sympathizing with both, she was more truly sorry for Mr. Morland, since for him she could see no immediate prospect of compensation, in spite of her father's assurances that a young clergyman was seldom allowed to remain inconsolable for more than six months, and if Kitty's other young man only did what was expected of him, her fate would be a certainty in half that time.
Needless to say, Kitty was heartily welcomed by Georgiana and Elizabeth, and given every opportunity to relieve her mind by descriptions of the tragical affair in all its aspects. Both regretted it deeply for Mr. Morland's sake, and Elizabeth privately did so for Kitty's sake, having such a good opinion of him as to make her wish that Kitty could have been persuaded out of her fancy for a young man, who, however excellent, was comparatively a stranger to them all, and whose intentions, at present, were extremely uncertain. She would have rejoiced if Kitty and Morland could have made each other happy, and had entertained a slight hope that her hint to Kitty might perhaps have helped matters, in directing her thoughts into another channel, but it seemed to be of no avail, and Georgiana gave her friend her warmest support, implying entire agreement with her point of view. "I could not help it, now, could I, Georgiana? You know yourself, Lizzie, that I never dreamt it. How could I do anything else but refuse him outright? I was amazingly grieved to do so, but you know very well, Georgiana, that if I could think of one man more than another,heis not that one." She paused for assent, which Georgiana gave by a silent caress, and then continued: "It is all so unfortunate. It will never be as pleasant at Desborough now. Poor Mr. Morland! I wish I had not had to hurt him. He does want someone so badly in the Rectory."
"Well, my dear, do not make yourself ill with these vain regrets," said Elizabeth. "It is, as you say, very unfortunate, but no one blames you. If you could not care for him, you could not do it, and someone else will have to inhabit that nice Rectory."
Kitty looked as if this prospect were not very pleasing either, but Georgiana, seeing what Elizabeth wished, began to talk cheerfully of something else, and Kitty gradually joined in, though whenever the two girls were alone together she found it difficult to abstain long from referring to some branch of the subject.
Georgiana's loyalty and patience never failed, but she wished for November almost as earnestly as Kitty herself, so that matters might reach some definite conclusion, for Kitty's restlessness had considerably increased since she had received James Morland's offer, and she was constantly nervous and excitable and not mistress of herself. On the day when the Bingleys and Mr. Bennet came over for the latter to take leave before returning to Longbourn, this was specially noticeable in her state of anxious flutter when drawing Jane aside to inquire after Mr. Morland. Mr. Bennet bade her farewell gravely and more affectionately than was his wont, telling her that he left her in good hands, and would only give her one piece of advice, namely, that second thoughts were sometimes best. Kitty blushed deeply and could not pretend to misunderstand him, but told Georgiana afterwards that it was impossible to have better second thoughts when Price was the first.
With his elder daughter Mr. Bennet was rather more explicit, telling Elizabeth that he considered it was a great pity that so unobjectionable a young man should have been sent about his business. Elizabeth entirely agreed with him, and thought it would not be going too far to express Mr. Morland's praise in even warmer terms.
"He will never set the Thames on fire, but there seems good stuff in him," was Mr. Bennet's reply. "When he proposed for her I had not taken much notice of him, except to think him a tolerably sensible fellow, and of course I had to readjust my ideas; but I soon began to see that he must not be judged by that alone. I have really liked him better, too, for his way of taking his refusal."
"My dear father, it does not always indicate a want of sense to wish to be married," interposed Elizabeth.
"Perhaps not, but Morland is much better off as he is than in marrying a girl he knows so little about. Kitty is flighty and expensive; she ought to stay longer with you and Jane, and not think of being married for the next ten years."
Elizabeth smiled and said she thought that it was unnecessary, but that it would certainly be better for Kitty to marry a clergyman than an officer in the navy, who would be compelled to spend long periods away from home.
"As to that, of course it is a complete absurdity, and I cannot think why you women, who are so fond of making matches, did not originate something less ridiculously unsuitable among yourselves."
Elizabeth thought it wiser not to explain who actually had originated the idea, and said after a pause: "You were saying that you have liked Mr. Morland better of late?"
"Yes, he has positively shown some sort of self-command and dignity. He turned up at the house a day or two afterwards, apparentlynotbent on making us all uncomfortable by the sight of his misery, as most rejected lovers do. Besides, Bingley had had the foresight to produce some excellent port."
"I hear from Jane," said Elizabeth, "that he does not avoid or seek the mention of Kitty, and she thinks he is trying to give up all hope of her."
"Her absence for a few weeks will no doubt materially assist him," said Mr. Bennet.
Kitty seized the opportunity offered by this visit to speak a private word to her brother-in-law with reference to the hero, as Bingley persisted in calling him. She herself had no news, for Mrs. Knightley's frequent letters reported him still at Portsmouth, and Bingley had heard nothing, but promised to write and renew his invitation as soon as October was fairly in.
The same silence prevailed at Pemberley with regard to Miss Crawford. No announcement of her marriage had reached any of them, and Elizabeth had a half inclination to make some inquiries, but was dissuaded by Darcy, who said: "Whatever precisely has happened, Elizabeth, we can be sure of one thing, that Miss Crawford has allowed Fitzwilliam to understand that she does not wish him to approach her again. Under these circumstances it is better that you should have no news to give him."
Elizabeth sighed as she agreed to the wisdom of this decision, but when shortly after her father's departure a letter was received from Colonel Fitzwilliam to say he would be returning at the end of the month, she could not help wishing that she was more fully informed of the present state of affairs. It would be a relief, even though a sad one, to Fitzwilliam's mind to know that Miss Crawford was actually married and he would be unselfish enough to wish to hear that she was happy. Nothing occurred, however, to enlighten them, and Fitzwilliam arrived on the appointed day, looking much as usual except for a few more lines about the eyes and an increased number of grey hairs.
It was the first time he and Georgiana had been together at Pemberley since the rupture of their engagement, and both must have felt conscious of it, Georgiana in particular being prepared to be miserable for a time, from the belief that her cousin, instead of being cheered and invigorated as formerly by his return home, must be reminded at every turn of the failure of their experiment, the failure caused by her wretched weakness and incapacity. Worse still, her brother must be reminded of it, and there might be a repetition of his stern looks, his cold manner. She trembled at the thought, unaware that Darcy had long been persuaded of the wisdom of their parting, ever since events in Bath had shown him where his cousin's real affections were likely to be bestowed, and the only difference which Georgiana perceived after Fitzwilliam's arrival was in the particular kindness he showed her, and the complete renewal of the old comfortable relations amongst them all.
When inquiries after the Hursts and Mrs. Annesley had been made, and Georgiana had mentioned the dinner-party and the persons who had been present, little more was said with reference to London; indeed, there was little more for either to say, for Georgiana dared not refer to the person who had chiefly occupied his mind there. Fitzwilliam talked of his book and of Ireland, inquired about the prospects of the shooting, showed interest in the minutest details of life in the neighbourhood, and in every way endeavoured to prove that he was exactly his old self; and only when walking with Elizabeth in the Park one morning did he betray how far that was from being the case.
There was no doubt that his disappointment had coloured his whole life. He had allowed himself to think of Miss Crawford, and to build high upon his hopes, and to find himself again mistaken had been a blow which cut at the foundations of all his happiness. His gaiety was feigned, his pursuits had lost their zest, his friends no longer sufficed him: and as he said to Elizabeth, he had felt he had better adopt some country occupation and settle down to it, and there grow old as quietly and quickly as might be.
Elizabeth's heart was wrung; the spectacle of her cousin's fine nature locked away, as it were, in a closed room, as a thing no one had any need for, was inexpressively painful to her, and nothing else would have caused her to venture upon a reopening of the subject which he himself had not approached. With the utmost gentleness she spoke a few words of commiseration, and then, still proceeding with extreme caution, she told him of the absence of news and her assumption that Miss Crawford's marriage with Sir Walter Elliot had been delayed.
"I daresay it has," returned Colonel Fitzwilliam, with a kind of listlessness, striking with his stick at the head of some tall grasses which bordered their path.
"There can be no doubt of it, I suppose?" pursued Elizabeth.
"None at all, I should imagine," replied the Colonel. "Miss Crawford is not the kind of woman who would break her word, once the engagement had been announced."
"No, of course not," said Elizabeth; "but I had expected that she or Mrs. Grant would have written to me, or even Mrs. Wentworth, as they must know I should be interested."
Colonel Fitzwilliam could not immediately recall anything of Mrs. Wentworth beyond her name, and on being reminded that she was Sir Walter Elliot's daughter, presently replied: "I do not think it altogether surprising she should not have written to you. She probably cares little for the marriage, and still less for the one which it was anticipated would follow it—I mean Miss Elliot's to Mr. Crawford."
This was a new idea to Elizabeth, and while she was pondering over it, and the inferences to be drawn from it, Colonel Fitzwilliam broke the silence by saying: "Perhaps we had better not speak of this anymore, Elizabeth. I know your great kindness of heart, but I feel it does no good, rather harm, to be reviving thoughts which I must in honour suppress as much as possible. I was anxious to know whether you had heard anything, and to ask you again, when you have the chance, to tell her that I wish her well; but now we have mentioned it, it would, I think, be best for my contemptibly weak character to put it as far away as possible."
With tears in her eyes, Elizabeth assured him that through the tenderest regard for him, not through any fear of overtaxing his fortitude, she would respect his wishes, but could not help begging him to remain with them at Pemberley as heretofore, so as to give them an opportunity of showing him how completely their happiness was bound up with his, and of making use of any opportunity which might arise for them to be of service to him. Fitzwilliam gratefully promised to stay for the present, and said that his only engagement was to go to some friends in Leicestershire in November, for the hunting.
Elizabeth was, nevertheless, not perfectly satisfied, and took occasion to ask Georgiana shortly afterwards whether it was from Mrs. Wentworth that she had heard confirmation of the fact that Sir Walter Elliot was engaged to Miss Crawford.
"No," said Georgiana, in surprise, "it was from Mr. Price. Mrs. Wentworth never mentioned it. Mrs. Wentworth! Of course, I recollect now, she is Sir Walter Elliot's daughter; but at the time I never thought of it, for, you see, I did not know Sir Walter was the man."
"Very true; I had also forgotten that you did not know," said Elizabeth, "and would never connect her with Miss Crawford. I have been thinking that I should like, for our own satisfaction, to know when the wedding is going to take place, and the simplest way will be to write and ask Mrs. Wentworth. I wish I had done so before, but I did not wish to be in haste, and I felt so convinced we should hear from others."
Georgiana agreed that this was the best course to pursue, and Elizabeth, having told Darcy of her intention, to which, on account of her promise to Fitzwilliam, he could no longer object, wrote and dispatched her letter.
The season was now drawing on, and with the shortening days the family at Pemberley found themselves thrown more upon the resources of their own immediate circle for amusement. The weather was consistently bad, and though this did not prevent the gentlemen from covering great distances for the purpose of slaughtering their game, the ladies were of necessity restricted to a smaller area, and their walks seldom extended beyond the park, except when their inclinations led them along a tolerably clean road towards the Rectory. This happened pretty frequently, for both Elizabeth and Georgiana were extremely attached to Elinor Ferrars. Their friendship was of a particularly sincere and well-balanced kind, and was not marred by their constant intercourse, as each knew how to maintain that degree of reserve which prevents indiscriminate confidences and so greatly strengthens mutual respect. Kitty was the one who perhaps found the society of the Rectory the least congenial; but it is to be feared that she was extremely difficult to please that autumn, and in the impatience with which she waited for one young man she might have sometimes regretted the solace which the company of the other would have afforded.
In such a small neighbourhood everyone was of some value, and they all heard with interest of the approaching visit to Mr. and Mrs. Edward Ferrars of an old friend, Mrs. Jennings, who was coming early in October to spend six or seven weeks with them. Mrs. Ferrars was in delicate health, and Mrs. Jennings, besides having an almost maternal affection for her, was well qualified to be of service as sick nurse and enlivening companion, so that Elinor's warning to Mrs. Darcy that her friend, although the kindest of women, had not always the most refined manner of expressing herself, did not prevent them from being anxious to make her acquaintance.
Mrs. Jennings performed in safety the long journey from her son-in-law's house in Devonshire, and arrived in her customary high spirits. It was her first visit to the Ferrars's since their removal from Delaford, and she had to examine the house, to criticize minutely the arrangement of their furniture, and to compare their surroundings, social and material, with what they had been in their old home. Mrs. Darcy paid an early call on the new arrival, and the morning after her visit Georgiana and Kitty also found their way to the Rectory.
Mrs. Jennings's exuberance, her loud laugh and general noisy cheerfulness did not recommend her strongly to either of the girls in the first few minutes, and Georgiana was glad to move to a chair by Mrs. Ferrars, to enter into a quieter conversation with her; but before long, judging by the sounds which reached them, Mrs. Jennings and Kitty had found some subjects in common. This perhaps was not so surprising, as Mrs. Jennings was exceedingly fond of the society of all young girls, and cared not at all whether they returned her partiality or no. In this case she had begun, with the utmost frankness, to discourse on the subject nearest her heart at the moment, namely, her dear Mrs. Ferrars, and was relating all the circumstances under which their friendship had been formed, the Dashwood girls' visit to London, the disagreeable conduct of Mrs. Ferrars's mother and sister, and the absurd misunderstanding as to Colonel Brandon's attentions, the whole being punctuated by frequent bursts of laughter; and she would doubtless have gone on to describe in detail the events attending the engagement of her two young friends, had not Elinor mildly but decisively interposed.
"Dear madam," she said, breaking off in the midst of a remark to Georgiana, "I am sure Miss Bennet does not wish to hear the history of such a very dull old couple as ourselves. You are so kind as to be more interested in it than most people could be."
"Lord, my dear," cried Mrs. Jennings, "why did you not stop me? I declare I am very sorry if I said a word I ought not. I know my tongue does run on, and Miss Bennet must excuse me, for it was only for the pleasure of talking to you and Mr. Edward. And as for its being dull, I don't believe there is anybody who does not like to hear of other people's love-affairs; it makes one think of one's own, now, does it not, Miss Bennet?"
Kitty blushed and looked embarrassed, and Mrs. Jennings laughed heartily, saying: "It is just as I thought; Miss Bennet could tell us a pretty tale too, I'll be bound, if only she would."
"Miss Bennet can tell us some wonderful tales of the West Indies," said Elinor, endeavouring to turn Mrs. Jennings's mind from her favourite topic; "she has a sister there, who writes to her constantly, does she not, Miss Bennet? Those tropical places must be very beautiful. Do you remember how Colonel Brandon used to talk to us of his travels in the East, ma'am?"
"That I do, my dear," replied Mrs. Jennings emphatically, "and I never want to hear again of such fearful things as he had seen—swamps, and great things like alligators ... and insects that did everything insects ought not. I hope you will tell your sister not to get amongst them, Miss Bennet."
Kitty replied that her sister had written chiefly of the beautiful balls and illuminations which they frequently had, and lately of some shocks of earthquake which had frightened them terribly. Mrs. Jennings exclaimed at this, and declared that the finest ball in the world would not compensate her if there was the fear that the ground would open under her feet while she was dancing. "But I know young people do not care what risks they run," said she. "There was Sir John Middleton three weeks ago wanted to have a moonlight picnic; my daughter Middleton was all against it, for the weather was so threatening, but have it he would, and the consequence was that they all ate their supper, or as much of it as they could, in a roaring thunderstorm. I can tell you they were in a pretty pickle when they got back! All the girls so cross, and the young men not a dry thread among them through trying to protect the ladies. But Sir John, he made no bones about it at all, but said they would go again another night, when for sure it would be fine."
Her hearers could not help laughing at such a picture of undaunted pleasure-seeking, and Elinor inquired if the second party had taken place.
"Oh, Lord, yes; they all came, but their fathers and mothers made them promise not to stir beyond the grounds. I heard, at any rate, they turned it into a dance instead. But, as I say, young people don't care for a drop of rain. I am sure, when I was young, I would as lief have had it as not, for there was no hardship in sheltering under a hedge, with the right young man to hold an umbrella over you, do you think so, Miss Bennet?"
"Still, I fancy that most people, old or young, prefer outdoor expeditions to be in dry weather," said Elinor. "That reminds me that I must show you what terrible havoc last night's rain and wind worked in my flower borders. When I looked out first, I was quite in despair, thinking I should not have another nosegay all the autumn. There is a gleam of sunshine now, so shall we take a turn in the garden?"
Georgiana gladly walked out with her, and Mrs. Jennings and Kitty followed at a distance, the former questioning her young companion about her sister abroad and hearing laments over the gaieties which that sister had been able to offer her, but which she had never been able to accept. Mrs. Jennings's hearty comments of "Well, there now, that is a shame!" and "A regiment too! You would have broken all their hearts, I vow!" and other such remarks pleased Kitty, while she knew in her heart they ought not to do so.
The two girls shortly after took their leave, and while walking homeward naturally compared notes upon the stranger whom they had just met. Georgiana expressed herself guardedly, not wishing to condemn any friend of Mrs. Ferrars's, although feeling as if that friend could not be in any way an accession to their party; but Kitty's first unfavorable impression seemed to have been obliterated, and she declared frankly that she liked Mrs. Jennings and thought she was very merry and good-natured. Georgiana could not quite agree with this, for she found Mrs. Jennings's style of raillery not at all to her mind, but admitted that she might be pleasanter when one got to know her well.
At dinner these opinions were canvassed, and Georgiana found, as she expected, that her own were largely shared by Elizabeth, who, however, was amused at her severity, and told her that she would often meet people who, with more refined manners, were yet at heart far more vulgar than Mrs. Jennings and had not a tenth part of her redeeming qualities.
"I do not think I want to meet them, then," said Georgiana. "But I am sure you are right, Elizabeth, and I daresay she will be a great comfort to Mrs. Ferrars."
When the ladies were together after dinner, Kitty, whose gravity and preoccupation had been noticeable for the last half-hour, after wandering several times round the room, stationed herself near to her sister and began, in a solemn tone: "Lizzie, I want to ask you something very important."
Elizabeth, smiling, professed herself all attention, and Kitty continued: "You know you have never kept your promise, that you made before you were married, of having a ball here, for each winter something has happened to prevent it."
"Quite true, Kitty; so a ball is in your mind; and what made you think of it just now?"
"I never come here without thinking of it, but I had somehow not expected to be staying long enough this year, as I imagined I should go home directly after the shooting party. But Mrs. Jennings said to-day she supposed you sometimes had balls in this lovely house, and she was sure Georgiana and I were fond of dancing."
"And Mrs. Jennings is quite right about the latter statement, is she not?"
Georgiana looked up with a smile, to assent to her share of the question, and Kitty clasped her hands rapturously, exclaiming: "Oh, Lizzie, you know how much I love a ball! It would be so kind of you and Darcy! Everyone would enjoy it!"
"I am very fond of balls myself," said Elizabeth. "Darcy, as you know, is not, but I think even he might admit that it is sometimes a duty to give one. The idea had crossed my own mind, I confess, but I had not considered whether our party or our numbers would be suitable."
Kitty's joy at the favourable reception of her proposal was excessive; she could not refrain from beginning to practise her steps about the room, and singing the while from sheer delight, and the gentlemen, entering at that moment, paused in astonishment on the threshold.
"What is this, Kitty?" inquired Darcy, approaching; "something Mrs. Jennings has taught you?"
Extreme merriment at the idea of Mrs. Jennings as an instructress of dancing prevented Kitty from immediately replying, but the whole matter was presently explained and laid before Darcy for approval. Seeing that her brother-in-law did not instantly dismiss the whole scheme, Kitty poured out a flood of reasons to commend it; it was just the right time of year, not too cold and snowy; Jane and Bingley would have a party they could bring over; no ball had been given at Pemberley since Georgiana was grown up; the house was so conveniently built, as if on purpose for balls; and finally, it would be a most delightful thing for everybody.
"I know you want time to think it over," said Elizabeth to her husband, "and there is no hurry at all; but I think it is quite feasible, and we really owe the neighbourhood some entertainment of the kind."
Darcy declared that he did not see why his house should be required to furnish his neighbours with the so-called amusement of watching each other promenading about a polished floor, and though no doubt it was a great compliment to the original architect, he did not believe that Pemberley had really been primarily designed for giving balls in; but his family could perceive that his opposition was not intended to be very serious, and the discussion terminated with his promising to talk it over with Elizabeth, and even to consider the middle of November as being a date likely to suit the convenience of both households.
Kitty regarded the matter as settled, and carried her news to the Rectory the following morning in the highest spirits, assuring Mrs. Jennings that it was owing to her suggestion that the subject had been brought forward at the right moment. The sincerity of that lady's delight, and the warmth of her congratulations, were most gratifying, and she immediately began to ask Kitty who her partners would be, and what variety the young men of the neighbourhood could afford.
Kitty confessed that there were not many living very near them, with the exception of the officers of a regiment stationed at Ashbourne, with some of whom her brother was acquainted, but that her sister, Mrs. Bingley, would bring over one, or even two, who she knew for certain danced extremely well.
"Aha!" cried Mrs. Jennings, "very pretty! And they are single men, too, I warrant you."
Kitty's look of consciousness gave Mrs. Jennings far too fine an opportunity to resist, and it did not take her long to ascertain enough particulars about a certain young naval officer to convince her that this ball was going to be the occasion for two young people to be made happy and all their friends regaled with some interesting news. There was no need for her to hear very minute descriptions of Mr. Price's conduct and the impressions it had left on the beholders; the mere mention of his existence, and a hint of Kitty's partiality, were sufficient material upon which to build up a whole romance. Miss Bennet might depend upon it, he was only waiting to come down here and make the acquaintance of the rest of her family, and then not a moment would be lost.
Although these assurances gave her pleasure and revived sensations which Elizabeth and Georgiana had not wished to encourage, Kitty could not help feeling a certain absurdity in accepting them from someone whose convictions were based solely on a good-natured interest in the affair, and she was tempted into giving a longer version of all that had happened in London, in order that Mrs. Jennings might be more fully informed. It was a decided relief to talk to a friend whose opinions coincided with those of Mrs. Knightley, and as Mrs. Ferrars was not in the room there was nothing to put a check on their confidences. She had, however, an instinctive feeling of delicacy which made her stop short of divulging a more recent experience, and the unconscious Mr. Morland was saved, had he but known it, many witty sallies on his deserted condition.
Elizabeth and Georgiana were amused to notice how willing Kitty henceforward became to go to the Rectory, for whereas she had formerly rather endured than enjoyed her visits there, she now volunteered to join the others whenever they went. She was generally to be found, during some part of the time, chatting with Mrs. Jennings; and when the good lady called at Pemberley it was Kitty's office to escort her home again. Mrs. Jennings had early discovered that Miss Darcy was grave and quiet, and could on no account be induced to join in any joking references to lovers, while Mrs. Darcy's general style and manner were not such as to warrant the intimacy implied by such a conversation.
There were many other topics, for Mrs. Jennings was thoroughly kind and friendly, and took the deepest interest in all her neighbours' concerns besides the sentimental ones: their children, their gardens, their poultry, their houses and their clothes. The ball, too, afforded unending subjects for discussion. There was to be no disappointment; Mr. Darcy had allowed himself to be talked into it, and the fifteenth of November was fixed for the momentous occasion. Cards were sent out; the officers accepted in a body; Colonel Fitzwilliam promised to stay for it; new dresses were ordered from London; and not least among the minor excitements was reckoned the arrival of a letter from Jane, expressing the pleasure of herself and Bingley at the prospect, and engaging to bring with them at that time, namely, Miss Bingley, Mr. Price and a Tom Bertram. This last name was accounted for by Jane's explanation that Bingley had asked Mr. Price to bring his brother with him, or some other man who could shoot, and the brother not being available, Mr. Price had secured instead his cousin, the elder son of Sir Thomas Bertram of Mansfield Park.
Perhaps not one of the party at the breakfast-table, to whom this letter was read aloud, could hear it altogether unmoved. Elizabeth and her husband were naturally deeply interested in all that concerned Kitty, and were glad to know there was a certainty of seeing at last the young man of whom they had heard so much; while Georgiana rejoiced in this clear proof of his anxiety to meet Kitty again, and built upon it hopes of the progress of the affair speedily and uninterruptedly to its desired ending. There need not, surely, be anything to delay it; on the contrary, no young lovers had ever more favourable circumstances, his own brief stay on shore an excuse for apparent haste, and Kitty's being surrounded by her friends, whose approval would be equivalent to that of her parents, making everything easy. Indeed, it was impossible to see what obstacles could arise; he could not be diffident enough to entertain doubts as to whether his feelings, or what were supposed to be his feelings, were returned. Georgiana could not help a little smile at this thought, though at the same time regretting that Kitty should allow her heart to be read so clearly. To Kitty, the announcement of his intended arrival at Desborough was scarcely less tremendous than if he had walked into the room himself at that moment, demanding her hand as he approached. The latter incident could hardly have caused her a greater tremor than the former did, and as soon as she could get Georgiana alone she poured out afresh the old hopes, fears and anxieties, desiring Georgiana to confirm all her own surmises with positive assertions; to reply: "I amsurehe will," when Kitty said "Ihopehe will"; and to say, "Of course, most certainly," when Kitty speculated upon the various ways in which Mr. Price might be expected to commit himself. Although feeling tolerably confident, Georgiana tried to confine herself to assurances of warm sympathy, and pointed out to Kitty that it was not prudent or delicate to assume so much when no actual declaration had been made, but with Mr. Price's coming so nearly in view, this idea detracted from Kitty's perfect satisfaction; she privately found Mrs. Jennings, and her arrangement of the coming events, far more encouraging.
Colonel Fitzwilliam's attention was caught by the names of Mrs. Bingley's guests in rather a different manner. Mr. Price he recollected as Georgiana's acquaintance, but the name of Bertram awoke associations of a kind which he was trying to subdue. It was the name he had more than once heard coupled with Miss Crawford's; it belonged to the people who were fatally connected with her past life. Had he only the right to protect her, the meeting with this representative of the family might have afforded him an opportunity of refuting for ever the vague scandals which were doing her so much harm; but he had no right; that privilege belonged to Sir Walter Elliot, and the truest kindness he could do her was to remain silent. In the new life she had chosen all the past should be forgotten. He strove resolutely to put away these saddening reflections, and to throw himself into the general interest of the subject by making a few inquiries about the two young men. Georgiana was the only person who could supply any information about Mr. Bertram, for Mr. Price had told her his sister was married to his cousin, a Mr. Edmund Bertram, also of Mansfield. It was evident that this must be the older brother.
Fresh excitement was caused shortly afterwards by a second letter from Mrs. Bingley. Jane wrote that Mr. Price and Mr. Bertram were to arrive at Desborough on the sixth of November, and begged that the two girls would come over on the previous day to spend a week there. Mr. Morland, she took care to inform them, was intending to pass the greater part of the month with his friends the Portinscales, and so, as Elizabeth had no doubt already heard, would be unable to be present at the Pemberley ball. In Kitty, this intelligence aroused the most fleeting of regrets, but the others had leisure to feel sorry, while commending his prudence, that circumstances should prevent his taking part in the general gaiety. Jane had special reason for feeling kindly towards him, for she had wished to ask Kitty to join the party, but had not liked to do so in view of Mr. Morland's being at home, but he, suspecting that it would be an occasion for inviting some of the relatives from Pemberley, had quietly made his arrangements without allowing anyone to perceive the hardship it was to him to deny himself a glimpse of Miss Catherine Bennet.
The invitation was rapturously accepted on the part of Kitty, and very willingly by Georgiana, for she liked being with Jane, and was pleased at the prospect of seeing William again for his own sake. Elizabeth felt it most important that the girls should be together, for Georgiana to watch over Kitty and be a check on her impulsiveness; and Darcy gave a sign of his confidence in his sister, very precious to her, by saying: "It is a good thing you are asked, Georgiana, for there is no one else who can be trusted to keep Kitty in order and bring us a sensible account of this young man and his intentions."
To Desborough, then, they were to go, and to bear with them Mr. and Mrs. Darcy's invitations to Mrs. Bingley's guests for the Pemberley ball.
October was rapidly passing; and Elizabeth had received no acknowledgment of her letter to Mrs. Wentworth. This occasioned her to some surprise, for Anne was a punctilious correspondent, and certainly would not have allowed such an important question as had been put to her to remain long unanswered. At last, when Elizabeth had begun to fear that either letter or reply must have miscarried, the wished-for packet was discerned among the morning's post; and she carried it to her own private room before perusing it.
"My dear Mrs. Darcy,
"I do not like to imagine what you must be thinking of me, for my long and inexplicable silence. Your letter bears the date October the second, almost a month ago. Will you forgive me when you hear that I only just received it? We have been travelling abroad, as Frederick wished to take advantage of this period of comparative peace to visit some of the old Dutch cities, and we returned only this week, after a delightful but extremely fatiguing tour. Our letters have followed us about to our continually changing addresses, and it is little short of a miracle that so many of them have reached us. Yours has now reappeared at Winchester after its wanderings! This must be my excuse for not writing instantly to correct a misconception under which I grieve to think you have been labouring. My father is not engaged to Miss Crawford, and there is no probability of a marriage between them either now or at some future time. I know that some months ago a rumour to that effect was in existence, for, indeed, it must be confessed that my father's attentions to Miss Crawford were very marked, and my sister was among those who were confident that an engagement would ultimately result; but before we went abroad Elizabeth wrote to me from Brighton, where she and my father had removed, to say that the affair was at an end, Miss Crawford having given my father a definite refusal. I think they were a great deal vexed and disappointed, which was perhaps natural, for my father had counted upon succeeding, and it would have been a very advantageous match for him; but I cannot help thinking that there would not have been any great happiness in it for either of them. It was not altogether suitable—but, dear Mrs. Darcy, I should not weary you with my comments. In such a case as this everyone can supply their own. I do not know where Mrs. Grant and Miss Crawford are now, but I conclude in Bath. The only news of them that has reached me, besides what I have stated, was, I am sorry to say, that Miss Crawford had been ill, but I heard no particulars. All this seems bald and unsatisfactory; I wish I could have given you better and earlier information. Pray give our warm regards to Mr. Darcy and his sister. It was a great delight to me to renew my acquaintance with the latter, and to see her looking so lovely and blooming. Her countenance expresses so much sensibility, that one is convinced she must have a tender heart, and one hopes that life may always be kind to her. I had a great wish to invite her to pay us a visit when we returned to Winchester from London, and was disappointed to learn she had already travelled north. Will you mention it to her, and say how glad we should be if ever she was disposed to come in this direction? We would try to give her a pleasant time. Your children must be reaching a delightful age. Alas! with what a pang do I view our empty nursery! Accept my very cordial remembrances, and believe me," etc.
It was well that Elizabeth had taken the precaution of being alone to read this letter, for the agitation it caused could not easily have been concealed. A thousand confusing thoughts surged through her mind. Action, of some sort, she felt she must take, being the only person of their circle in possession of this knowledge; but what action would be safe, prudent and productive of results? While believing that Fitzwilliam had been refused, she had always found it hard to credit that he should have been refused for Sir Walter Elliot, and the denial of the statement found willing acceptance. It was so unnatural, so horrible, almost, to think of Miss Crawford as Lady Elliot! Before Elizabeth had even time to think of Fitzwilliam she had rejoiced over Miss Crawford's not having committed an act so unworthy of her. She next tried to recollect exactly what she had heard with reference to Fitzwilliam's dismissal. He had been confident that she was lost to him, through her engagement, he assumed; but since she had never been engaged, clearly there had been indications which, as Darcy had said, had forced him to believe that she was ill-disposed towards him. What, then, could anyone do for him now? It was not by any means certain that because she had rejected Sir Walter Elliot she could be induced to accept Colonel Fitzwilliam. And yet the knowledge that she was free, free still to be won, was a reason for not withdrawing utterly until he knew what would be the fate of his own pretensions, taken on their own merit. Elizabeth could not feel satisfied, remembering what had happened at Bath, that he had ever had a fair opportunity of pleading his cause. He might, indeed, have had a refusal as definite as Sir Walter's, and in that case there would be no kindness in reopening the subject; it would profit him little to know that another suitor had fared no better than himself, even though that suitor might be one who should never have aspired. But what if it had all arisen through a misunderstanding?
After long and earnest consideration Elizabeth determined that whatever steps she now took towards her cousin and the chances of a reconciliation, he must know nothing of them; if she had finally decided against him, there was no reason why he should be put to the pain of hearing it a second time. This at least seemed clear, and it paved the way for her next resolution, namely to write to Mrs. Grant, without mentioning anything she had heard, beyond the intimation of Miss Crawford's illness, and ask for news of them both.
Darcy entered while she was preparing to write, and she immediately handed him Mrs. Wentworth's letter. Having read it, he handed it back to her, saying gravely: "What are you going to do now, Elizabeth? for I suppose you are going to do something."
Elizabeth described her plan and its motives, and Darcy listened without giving her much encouragement. At length he said: "Have you realized what a great responsibility you are taking upon yourself in endeavouring to bring these two people together again?"
"Yes," said Elizabeth, "and, dear Darcy, do you not think we should be prepared to take it? I shall do nothing which could possibly give Fitzwilliam a moment's uneasiness; he has already suffered too much, and is a changed man, as you were agreeing the other day; but if there is the slightest chance of making him happy, I think we ought not to let it slip. No one but ourselves can possibly make any attempt to reunite him and Miss Crawford."
"I know you are prepared to undertake herculean tasks in the interests of your friends, my dear, but when a man has been so decidedly repulsed, it is a delicate manner to heal the breach. I imagine your scheme would be straightaway to invite Miss Crawford here, and send them both off for a walk, with instructions to return in half an hour an engaged couple?"
This was spoken without the ghost of a smile, but the idea it suggested to Elizabeth was so brilliant that she forgot to remonstrate her husband for not being sufficiently serious. "I never thought of it, but I will do it!" she exclaimed. "Not send them off for a walk, of course, but invite Miss Crawford and her sister to come and stay here. They shall come, if they will, as soon as the ball is over, for Robert is leaving the next day, and in the course of a quiet fortnight it will be strange if I cannot discover whether she cares in the least for him."
"And after that time Fitzwilliam is to be summoned home with all speed, I suppose?"
"Oh, I cannot look so far ahead; if my endeavours prove unavailing, of course we must not let him know that they have been here at all."
"Well, Elizabeth, I am glad you are providing for all contingencies; and do not forget the most probable one, namely, that they will not be persuaded to accept your invitation. Miss Crawford may not want to lend a helping hand, or Mrs. Grant to play Fitzwilliam's game for him."
"Naturally, I shall tell them distinctly that he will not be here and we shall be quite to ourselves. If she has been ill, she may like to have a change. I decline to be discouraged, Darcy, by whatever you may suggest, for I am convinced that this plan can do no harm, and may do a great deal of good."
"Perhaps you are right, my dear; it seems to me to be a considerable risk, and we cannot emphasize too strongly the need for absolute secrecy; but you know I cannot wish Fitzwilliam anything better than a thoroughly happy marriage, when I think of what mine has done for me."
"Darcy! for you to be paying me compliments! The world must be coming to an end. And now here is nurse bringing the children, so I shall have to postpone my writing for the present."
The letter was posted, and Elizabeth had to wait longer than she would have wished for an answer to this one also, but after about ten days she had a note in a hand she did not know was brought to her. It proved to be from Mrs. Grant, who dated it from Everingham, Norfolk, and said that she was writing in place of her sister, who was still so far from well that it was necessary to spare her all trouble and fatigue. She had been extremely ill during August and September, and had seemed to make so little progress towards recovery that they had come to stay with their brother a few weeks ago, in the hope of obtaining some benefit from the more bracing air. Unfortunately, she had not gained all the good they had hoped for, and they were still anxious about her. On first receiving Mrs. Darcy's kind invitation she had felt it was impossible to accept it, as her state of health and spirits made her languid and disinclined for exertion, but Mrs. Grant and Mr. Crawford had at length, using all their powers of persuasion, induced her to reconsider her decision, for they both felt that to mix with her friends once more, and to be in the midst of such agreeable and stimulating surroundings as a visit to Mrs. Darcy would afford, would be the best possible remedy for the nervous complaint from which she had suffered. In any case, they would shortly have to leave Everingham, as it was too cold and exposed a spot, but her sister was scarcely equal to the journey to Bath yet, so that Mrs. Darcy's letter had come at a most fortunate time.
Miss Crawford was very desirous that Mrs. Grant should explain that she was still an invalid to a great extent—"and she insists on my saying a tiresome and exacting one, though I cannot endorse that," added Mrs. Grant. "But she is afraid of giving trouble, and of being, on account of her want of health, an unacceptable visitor; and she says that if she is going to trespass upon your kindness, she cannot do so on false pretenses, and so wishes you to know just how you will find her, in case you would rather postpone having her until some future time, when she is more of a rational being."
Elizabeth perceived something of Miss Crawford's old spirit peeping out in this message, the spirit of independence, which would laugh at her own weakness rather than appeal for pity, and made her reluctant to accept a kindness which might wear the aspect of an indulgence. Had it not been for her recent illness, and the consequent pressure put upon her by her brother and sister, it was clear she would not have come to Pemberley; Elizabeth was conscious, in the wording of the letter, of a shrinking from it, and the earnest way in which Mrs. Grant, on her sister's behalf, begged to be assured that they would find Mr. and Mrs. Darcyquite aloneat home, emphasized something more than an invalid's wish for seclusion.
In her reply Elizabeth endeavoured to convey a complete assurance of the quietness of Pemberley and its suitability for anyone in Miss Crawford's delicate condition. There would be no one at home but themselves, she said, excepting, of course, Mr. Darcy's sister, whom Miss Crawford had met, and who was one of the household; the patient should have every care, and could lead whatever kind of life she preferred; she should not be troubled in any way, or even be asked to join the rest of the party, until she felt stronger, as Elizabeth hoped and believed she soon would. The letter was expressive of the writer's goodwill, and she trusted that it might do away with any remaining unwillingness that Miss Crawford might have felt in renewing an acquaintance which had indirectly caused her so much pain. Elizabeth rejoiced in having accomplished the first step. Miss Crawford's acceptance might have been wrung from her, but it was unlikely she would withdraw it, and once she were safely established at Pemberley, whether Colonel Fitzwilliam were to be made happy or not, at least there would be no more misunderstandings.
Elizabeth proposed a date to Mrs. Grant for the arrival of the two ladies, but decided to maintain her reserve on the subject towards everyone, except her husband, until the ball should be over and her cousin should have left the house, for she was particularly anxious that no hint of it should reach his ears. Georgiana's discretion could have been depended upon, but Elizabeth felt it would be better to postpone telling even her of Mrs. Wentworth's reply until matters should be further advanced.