Georgiana found that her presence as a check on Kitty, and an outlet for her excitement, was very necessary, for Kitty had come to regard herself as the central figure in the little drama that was to be played during the next few days. Her manner of speaking of Mr. Price during the first evening would certainly have betrayed to Miss Bingley the state of her feelings towards him, if that lady had not been already possessed of the information. Georgiana felt both sorry and vexed, for she could read clearly the expression on Miss Bingley's face, and knew that Kitty was exposing herself to a not altogether friendly criticism. Miss Bingley had never learnt to do more than tolerate the rest of the Bennet family, in spite of her openly professed affection for Jane, and when, as in this case, she happened to have taken a liking to the admirer of one member of it, she evidently found their inferiority greater than ever. That Mr. Price was a great deal too good for Kitty Bennet she managed to convey by looks and tones which were not intended for anyone but Kitty, but which Georgiana could not help but notice and resent. To Georgiana herself, Miss Bingley said with a great air of frankness that now this affair had been so much talked of, and was expected on all sides, she trusted it would soon become an accomplished fact; of course it was all Emma Knightley's doing, but as Kitty was evidently so much in love, shehoped(with a good deal of emphasis) that Mr. Price felt the same.
The great day arrived, and Mr. Tom Bertram's curricle drove up to the door late in the afternoon, laden with its two passengers and a manservant, and all the necessary complement of bags, gun-cases and a spaniel on a chain. William Price had been staying at Mansfield, and consequently the journey for both was a comparatively easy one. There were many greetings to be made, and introductions to be performed, in the short half-hour before everyone retired to dress for dinner. Bingley, in the warmth of his welcome, could not make enough of his guests, and wanted to be talking to them both at once; but the look of delighted surprise on William Price's face when he caught sight of the two young girls did not escape observation, any more than the remarkable fact of Kitty's being suddenly struck almost dumb with shyness, and being unable to reply except in monosyllables, and with deep blushes, to his inquiries after her health. Georgiana, with greater self-possession, shook hands in her own grave manner, looked him straight in the face, answered him simply, and bowed with quiet courtesy in acknowledgment of the pleasure he expressed in meeting them again.
At dinner, Kitty was placed between Georgiana and Mr. Price, the latter being on Mrs. Bingley's right hand; and as Jane considerately talked for most of the time to Mr. Tom Bertram, who sat on her other side, Kitty was able to enjoy Mr. Price's conversation almost uninterruptedly. He had much to tell, and she to ask, of London and their mutual friends there, of his stay in Portsmouth and the King's visit to review the ships, of the shooting parties at Mansfield and the astonishing sagacity of his cousin's new dog. Georgiana heard scraps of it, and noticed with satisfaction the good understanding that seemed to exist. "It is much the wisest beginning," she thought. "Far better to have a basis of common interests on which to found a friendship before love comes, than to rush blindly into a violent attachment, which may as rapidly subside. Mr. Price will gradually bring out the best that is in Kitty. He will care for the same things she does, but more moderately; and he will develop her finer taste. She will have so much to make her happy that her charm of nature will not fade."
Mr. Price was evidently too sensible to expect to have the exclusive enjoyment of Kitty's company in such a small party. He was ready to reply to anyone who might address him, seemed to wish to get acquainted with Mrs. Bingley, and always had a lively word or glance for his cousin opposite. Tom Bertram would put up with a greater amount of good-natured teasing and joking from his cousin than he had ever done from anyone in his life; but his illness had sobered him, and though not much less careless and selfish than formerly, he entertained a secret admiration for the younger man, who had already done so much with his own life, and he had shown himself strongly amenable to influence from that quarter. To exercise an influence was the last thing William Price would have thought of doing; and yet it was entirely through his half-laughing, half-serious representations that Tom had been induced to settle down at home, to interest himself in the work of managing the estate, and to show more consideration for his parents. At the moment, he had allowed himself to be carried off from home, knowing that it was part of a general scheme to distract his mind from a matrimonial entanglement in which he was on the verge of becoming involved, and which his family cordially disliked; but there was reason to fear that Miss Isabella Thorpe had played her cards too well, and that in spite of the efforts of friends she would eventually reign at Mansfield Park as the next Lady Bertram.
When the gentlemen rejoined the ladies after dinner, William Price immediately approached Georgiana, and made a few remarks upon indifferent subjects, until the attention of the others being directed to a story narrated by Mr. Bertram, he inquired if she had heard anything more of Miss Crawford since their last meeting.
Owing to Elizabeth's reticence on the subject, Georgiana was able to answer, with truth, that she had heard nothing. When she had spoken, her reply seemed to her so curt that she added: "My sister, Mrs. Darcy, has written to a friend—to Mrs. Wentworth, in fact, to make inquiries, but I do not know with what result."
"To Mrs. Wentworth?" repeated William Price. "Then, of course, that means you know what I was so churlish as to refuse to tell you, that evening at Mrs. Hurst's—Sir Walter Elliot's name. I hope you have forgiven me, Miss Darcy, and will understand why I did not feel at liberty to repeat it at that time."
"I am sure you were right, Mr. Price, and indeed we have never heard the rumour confirmed yet," said Georgiana. "I wish I had seen Miss Crawford again, but there was no opportunity."
"I did not see her again, either," said William. "I had to leave town directly after, and when I returned they were gone. I wish I could learn something! I so trust it may not be true; for Miss Crawford to marry that man would be not one, but a thousand pities. It is difficult to understand why anyone should make a so-called marriage of convenience; but one feels that she of all people is worthy of a better fate."
"One must hope, if it really is decided upon, that it is not altogether a mere convenience; that that there is some mutual regard also," said Georgiana.
"Oh, no doubt, there is a great deal of regard onhisside, but he is not the sort of man to appreciate her properly," rejoined Mr. Price. "If you knew him, Miss Darcy, even your kindness of heart would fail to find suitable excuses."
"I know Miss Crawford's friends are dissatisfied about it," said Georgiana; "but I cannot help feeling that there is no need for her to make any marriage at all unless she is confident it will conduce to her happiness, so that, whatever she is doing, one must assume that she is using her judgment."
"You put the case so admirably, Miss Darcy, that I declare you have nearly consoled me. It is just what I have tried to remind myself of, that she can afford to marry where she chooses, and as there is no compulsion except her own good nature, I can hardly believe she will make such an unwise choice. That absolutely settles it; I believe you have got private information, which you have conveyed to me from your own mind without speaking a word, and which has reassured me."
"No, indeed, I have no private information," replied Georgiana with a faint smile, "and I think you have reassured yourself by your own close knowledge of Miss Crawford's character."
"I may know Miss Crawford better, but in matters of this kind women are far better judges of one another than are men of them. You read each other as you would yourselves, and deduce each other's motives from your knowledge of your own; consequently, you bring a far keener insight to bear than we can."
"I think that perhaps women understand each other better, and it is natural that they should," said Georgiana, after a moment's reflection. "But then you must remember that they are expected to acquire the habit of entering into the feelings of others. Their position as onlookers in the active world enables them to find their pleasure in studying the characters of those around them, and their happiness is in proportion to the amount of sympathy and comprehension which is excited in themselves."
"That is too modest an estimation of the qualities of your sex, Miss Darcy. I should go further, and say that some persons do not need to acquire the habit you mention, for they have naturally such quick and generous sympathies, such a power of reading with true kindliness the dispositions of others, and drawing out the best that is in them, that I think it is impossible for them to receive more happiness than they give. You must have met some such; and that is what I mean by a woman's power of insight."
He looked at her earnestly as he said this, and Georgiana had never seen him so grave. That he meant Kitty, she had not a moment's doubt; and they seemed to be within half a sentence of her name. She fully expected his next words to be: "There is someone we both know, I think, Miss Darcy," or something similar, and in her confusion, she did not stop to reflect how unlikely it was that he would speak so openly when Kitty was standing a few yards away. But as he continued to look at her without saying anything further, she strove to interrupt a pause which threatened to become embarrassing, and murmured, not very collectedly: "Yes, indeed it is so. My brother's wife, Mrs. Darcy," she added, not daring to show her thoughts were following the same direction as his, "is one of those you were describing. She understands everyone so well; she knows what one would say even when one has the greatest difficulty in expressing it. I think she is the cleverest person I have ever met."
She thought he looked a little disappointed at her change of theme, but he bowed, and said courteously that he had a great wish to meet Mrs. Darcy. Georgiana caught at this remark as a means of extricating himself from a conversation which was almost too interesting to be pursued just then. "I hope very much that you will meet her," she said. "I do not know if Mr. Bingley has mentioned it, but there is to be a ball at Pemberley next week, and my sister hoped Mr. and Mrs. Bingley would bring you all over with them."
William's face displayed the pleasure he felt, before he could give utterance to it, and Georgiana, recollecting that she had not intended to give the invitation, but to leave to Kitty the gratification of doing so, turned round impulsively and called to her friend, who was standing close by Jane's chair on the opposite side of the fireplace, but casting many wistful glances towards Georgiana and her companion.
"Kitty, I have been telling Mr. Price about the ball," said Georgiana, as Kitty darted towards them; "that is, that we hope he is coming to it; but you must tell him what an achievement it is to have persuaded Elizabeth and my brother. We owe it entirely to your suggestion that there is going to be any ball."
"Oh, Georgiana, why did you tell Mr. Price? I was keeping it for a great surprise," exclaimed Kitty reproachfully; and turning to William, she demanded his approval for the scheme, the details of which were quickly expounded. William gave a proper meed of praise and admiration, and Georgiana presently slipped away to join the others, who were preparing to sit down to a round game; but William and Kitty remained talking together until tea was brought in.
The following day the sportsmen went out early and returned late, and as some friends from the neighbourhood were dining at Desborough, there was no opportunity for much conversation between the young ladies and Mr. Bingley's guests. Kitty passed their chief of the day in writing a long letter to Mrs. Knightley, and Georgiana was taken possession of by Miss Bingley, who wished to practice vocal and instrumental duets. Miss Bingley had a good deal to say, during the intervals of their performance, about Mr. Price, whom she acknowledged she liked very much, and she endeavoured to prove to Georgiana, by a number of arguments, the improbability of his having any matrimonial intentions in general, and towards Kitty in particular. Georgiana would not discuss the point with her. Her own esteem for Mr. Price depended on his not disappointing Kitty, and she would admit no suspicion which might imperil it.
On the third afternoon, the shooting party having returned earlier on account of bad weather, they were all assembled in the library. Bingley was showing Mr. Bertram some hunting prints that hung on the walls, and the rest were gathered round the fire, the ladies sitting, and William Price leaning on the overmantel glancing at the pieces of porcelain and the miniatures arranged upon it.
"What beautiful little Chinese figures these are, Mrs. Bingley," he suddenly exclaimed. "They are genuinely old, are they not? A man I know brought back just such a pair from Hong Kong, and I know he regarded them as priceless. I do not think they can be imitated in Europe."
"Yes, I believe they are really old," replied Mrs. Bingley. "I do not know the history of them, but they have been in Mr. Bingley's family for a long time, and they are special favourites of his; perhaps you can tell us, Caroline?"
Miss Bingley was beginning to speak when she was interrupted by a cry of dismay from Mr. Price. He had taken the little figure in his hand to examine it more closely, and the head had immediately fallen off and rolled on the hearth. Fortunately a thick rug had received it, and after a search it was discovered intact; but Mr. Price was overwhelmed with self-reproach for his carelessness, until stopped by Mrs. Bingley saying: "You need not mind, Mr. Price, for it was not in the least your fault. The head was broken off already. Look, it has been slung between the shoulders by a piece of wire. I should have mended it, but could not manage to attach a new length of wire."
"I am relieved to find I am not the guilty party," said Mr. Price; "that is, if you are quite sure, Mrs. Bingley."
"Indeed I am; and Kitty," she added, turning toward her sister, "perhaps you can help me to clear Mr. Price's character. Do you happen to know anything about the breaking of this little mandarin? We found it so a few days after you left, and no one in the house could account for it. I have always meant to ask you about it, but had forgotten until now."
Owing to the comparative dimness of the firelight, Jane was unable to perceive her sister's growing confusion; but it became evident in the embarrassed pause which followed her question. Kitty began to speak, broke off, and began again, stumbling over her words: "I had thought it had been broken—that is, I knew it had—but something put it out of my head—I forgot it too till now."
"What a pity you did not mention it," said Miss Bingley severely; "it might have been worse injured next time it was touched by anyone not knowing the head was loose."
"Oh, well, never mind, dear Kitty," said Jane kindly; "it does not matter; it can easily be repaired, no doubt."
Kitty, on the verge of tears, looked distressfully from one to the other, torn between her dislike to recalling the occasion, and her desire to exonerate herself in the eyes of William Price. The latter consideration prevailed, and addressing Jane, she murmured with deepest blushes; "It was not I who broke it, it was Mr. Morland."
"Mr. Morland!" repeated Jane, perplexed. "Yes, it was that last morning he was here. We—he was in the library, you know. He had the Chinese figure in his hand, and I recollect noticing it was in two pieces. I never thought of it again until now, and I suppose he forgot it too."
Kitty's self-consciousness, increased as it was by the knowledge that Jane and Georgiana would now perfectly understand the reason for the disaster which had befallen the porcelain ornament, quite mystified her other two hearers, to whom the explanation taken by itself would have been sufficiently simple. All they could plainly perceive was that the association of Mr. Morland with the incident made Kitty extremely uncomfortable, and they were left to draw what conclusions they might by her hasty departure from the room. William Price, with a delicacy of feeling for which Georgiana's heart went out to him, immediately filled up the moment of awkwardness by reverting to the original subject of their discussion, which he still held in his hand. "At any rate," he said, smiling, "I have helped to decapitate this poor mandarin, so it seems only fair that I should try to mend him. Have I your permission, Mrs. Bingley? I believe, with a fresh bit of wire and some sealing-wax, I could make him nod as benevolently as ever."
Bingley was called upon to produce the necessary articles, and being warned by a glance from his wife not to pursue his inquiry as to whether they had discovered who had damaged the old fellow, the incident seemed likely to arouse no further remark. Georgiana evaded Miss Bingley's eyes, and went away as soon as she could to Kitty's room, finding her friend lying upon the bed and weeping bitterly.
"Georgiana, what must he have thought?" she began instantly, throwing herself into her friend's arms. "Why did Jane ask me that unfortunate question, just at that time? It could not have happened worse. I was thinking about it a little, because, you know, I had not been in that room since Mr. Morland and I were there together. We were standing in just the same place as we were all in to-night, and it made me quite miserable to remember it. And now Mr. Price will not know what to think, hearing Mr. Morland's name like that. He will suspect something, and perhaps it will prevent him from speaking. I wish we were back at Pemberley; I knew things would never go so well here again."
Georgiana comforted her, assured her that what had happened would never make the slightest difference to Mr. Price, laughingly reproached her with having run away, saying that no one would have perceived anything out of the ordinary but for that, and counselled her to behave just as usual when she met the others again, and everything would be forgotten. Nevertheless, Kitty was far from comfortable during the rest of their stay, and was in continual expectation of some occurrence which might affect Mr. Price's attitude towards her, although the cheerful friendliness of his manner never varied.
This apprehension rendered her particularly uneasy the following day, which was Sunday. They all went to church, where the service was read by a stranger, and Kitty's sensibility was sorely tried by having to listen to various questions asked by their visitors during the walk back. Was that the regular clergyman? He was absent; ah, indeed! Was he a pleasant neighbour? a good preacher? And so that was the Rectory; what a commodious, attractive-looking house! No doubt the parson was a married man, and he was certainly a lucky fellow to be so circumstanced, commented Mr. Bertram. Bingley made brief answers out of compassion for Kitty, and Jane began a conversation with the two girls about something different; but she could not attend. It was so distressing to think of Mr. Morland, whom Bingley praised so highly and whom the others thought so enviable, having been driven away from home on her account; that a man so charming and so desirable should have fallen in love with her when she was not able to care for him. There seemed something particularly unfortunate, particularly wasteful, about the whole affair! If he had been a Mr. Collins, that nobody, not even Maria Lucas, would have minded refusing! Poor Kitty walked home silently, and as far from Mr. Price as possible, with her muff held up to conceal a countenance which she knew was unfit to be seen.
On Monday, Bingley and Mr. Bertram went out hunting, and the ladies, escorted by Mr. Price, drove to the spot where the foxhounds were to meet, in the hope of seeing a little sport. Bingley had offered to mount Mr. Price also, but the latter had declined, laughingly declaring that, like all sailors, he was not much of a horseman, and though he had once hunted from Mansfield Park when he was a careless youngster, he thought it would be wiser not to venture over the Derbyshire country, with its rough moors and high stone walls, on a borrowed horse. "It is most kind of you, Mr. Bingley," he said; "and for my cousin, it is all right, for he has hunted here before. But I am sure you would not be pleased, if you saw me come crashing down at the first big fence, with your hundred-guinea hunter doubled up in the further ditch."
The ladies held up hands of horror, but Bingley, much amused, said he would not believe a word of it, and that he felt sure Mr. Price could ride as well as he could shoot. William shook his head.
"I have ridden all sorts of horses at different times, when occasion has required it, and have even managed to adhere to the animal as a rule; but my good luck might desert me to-day. Perhaps you will let me go for a jogging ride along the lanes before I go, on your least valuable horse."
"Seeing that I am in charge of you just now, William, I highly applaud your decision," said his cousin, "as I don't want to have to send you back to Portsmouth with a broken neck, which is certainly what could happen."
"You in charge of me! I like that," exclaimed William. "Say much more, and I will borrow a gypsy's donkey and come to meet you on it, announcing to everybody that I am bringing along your second mount."
Mrs. Bingley was a little afraid of the cold wind, and decided not to go, so Mr. Price took his seat in the barouche with the other three, and greatly enhanced the gaiety of their party. They drove about for more than two hours, and when at last, the hunt having gone away among the hills, they decided to turn homewards, Mr. Price created consternation among his fair companions by asking permission to get out and walk.
"Walk, Mr. Price?" exclaimed Miss Bingley, who, placed on the front seat, had assumed the direction of the party. "Why should you want to walk? And in this desolate wilderness! Why, we must be six or seven miles from home."
"Yes, I thought it was about that," said William "I rather wanted a walk, and do you know, I like this desolate wilderness, as you call it. I should enjoy exploring my way homewards, and I have noted all the landmarks. It is so cold, too; a splendid day for a walk."
"Oh, Mr. Price, do not go; we are all so snugly tucked in here," said Kitty imploringly.
"Oh, if you prefer walking, pray do not let us detain you," said Miss Bingley, speaking at the same moment, and in rather an offended voice.
William looked in surprise from one to the other; it had evidently not occurred to him for one moment that he would be missed by any of them. Unconsciously, his eye sought Georgiana's, and she said quickly: "Mr. Price must be cold with sitting still so long; I expect he would enjoy a walk. It really is not so far; from the top of the hill one can see Kympton Church, I know, and on foot one can take an almost straight route."
The carriage had stopped and the servants awaited their orders. William remained irresolute; he had one lady's leave to go, another was doing her best to appear indifferent, and the third plied him with entreaties not to break up their comfortable little party. Georgiana was amused, but also a little ashamed to see Caroline and Kitty, for once united in the object of their wishes, showing those wishes so plainly. It was clear that William Price felt the awkwardness thus created, for his hesitation only lasted a second or two, and he said lightly: "Why, of course, I will not get out, if it would be disturbing anybody. Probably the negotiation of those short cuts would make me very late for dinner. Shall they drive on?"
Miss Bingley gave the order in a dignified tone, and assured him that he had done wisely to desist, for he certainly would have been late. Georgiana could not help remarking that it was a pity he should have missed his walk, for the others would not be in before five; but he gave her a glance and a half smile, which showed her that he was not allowing it to trouble him. Kitty, delighted that Mr. Price had given this proof of a wish to please him, talked all the way home, and described with great animation severaldreadfulwalks that Bingley had taken her on the moors, when, according to her account, they had narrowly escaped death on many occasions—wild cattle, dangerous bogs, rushing torrents and venomous snakes being among the risks to be encountered on such expeditions.
Mr. Price listened with interest, but his courage did not appear to be shaken, for as soon as they descended from the carriage, he paused only to glance at the clock, and to divest himself of his heavy coat, before asking Miss Darcy if she would accompany him on a walk. "It will be as short as, or as long, as brisk or as leisurely, as you are disposed for," he said, and Georgiana declined with real regret.
"I should have enjoyed it very much, Mr. Price, but I think I had better not; it is rather late, and the others may be wanting me before dinner. Besides," she added, as she saw his disappointed look, "I know you want a good walk, and you can go further if you have not to adapt yourself to the slow paces of a lady."
"I should esteem it an honour to have to adapt myself to yours," replied William Price, with the quick, bright smile which was so noticeable in him.
"We must all go together to-morrow morning," said Georgiana, as she turned away. "Mr. Bingley can show us what is the best direction. I hope it will keep fine, but it looks very like snow."
Mr. Price did not move from where he stood for some minutes, and Georgiana, as she ascended the stairs, felt strongly to return and accede to his suggestion, but the fear that Kitty would not like it withheld her. She wished that he had asked Kitty instead, or as well, for although anyone might well have assumed—after the descriptions she had given—that a country walk, for its own sake, was to her the most uncongenial form of amusement, yet Georgiana knew well that it would be viewed in a very different light were a particular companion available.
The promised walk did not take place, for the snow, which had been threatening, fell the following day, not thickly, but with enough of fog and dampness in the atmosphere to make the fireside seem by far the most agreeable place. The gentlemen shot in the first part of the morning, but returned home soon after one, ready for any entertainment that they might be expected to provide or be provided with; and Tom Bertram's inclinations, as usual, were in favour of the former. Not being a card-player, or enthusiast for music, and having found Mr. Bingley to be at billiards an adversary unworthy of his skill, he was obliged to seek some other method of spending a winter's afternoon, and without hesitation he broached to the assembled party his idea that they should act some charades.
Mrs. Bingley looked doubtful, and William Price gave his cousin no support; but the notion was warmly taken up by Bingley, his sister and sister-in-law, and Mr. Bertram set himself to persuade Mrs. Bingley that, next to a real play, charades were the most delightful things imaginable, and that they had a party collected about them remarkably well qualified to undertake any and every kind of character.
His hostess proved not difficult to persuade when she perceived what pleasurable anticipations were aroused by the suggestion; and only needed to be assured by her husband that it was a capital notion, and the young people would thoroughly enjoy it, to promise help of whatever kind was needed. William Price was ready to enter into it, when it became evident that it was the general wish; and even Georgiana began to be interested, and concealed her nervousness at the idea of taking part.
"You need not be frightened, Georgiana," said Miss Bingley; "all you will be required to do is to stand perfectly still and assume a particular expression. Louisa and I have often taken part in them; there is no acting, it is all the pose."
"Excuse me, Miss Bingley," interposed Mr. Bertram, "the kind of charades I propose we should do involves a certain amount of movement—acting, in short; and others require impromptu speeches. I recollect once, at the house of my friend—"
"I am sure you are mistaken, Mr. Bertram; the correct charade is not acting at all; it is simply a series of pictures, or tableaux, to represent the various syllables."
The discussion threatened to become keen, especially when the two younger girls joined in protesting that they could not possibly recite any impromptu speeches; but Bingley finally settled the point by agreeing with Mr. Bertram's vehement assertion that it would be much more amusing if they acted their parts, and that he could show them how to do it in such a way that no speaking would be necessary, though Miss Bingley doubted ifallthe company would be equal to such a demand upon their capabilities.
The next point was to choose the words, a matter of prodigious importance, for which many books were brought out and consulted, and the merits and possibilities of each word exhaustively debated. It was not until they renewed the consideration of the subject at the dinner-table that they made the discovery that if all of them were to appear in different scenes of the same charade, there would be no one left to guess the meaning.
"This becomes really serious," said Bingley. "If it was a play, we could act to ourselves, and the chairs and tables, and be perfectly happy; but the very existence of a charade is threatened if no one is ignorant of it. And from what I hear of intended costumes, it will take the rest of the evening for our preparations, so that we shall be ready to begin the performance just as our ladies have to leave us to-morrow."
"But who is leaving to-morrow? Not Miss Bennet and Miss Darcy?" exclaimed Tom Bertram in real alarm. "This cannot be allowed. Pray, Mr. Bingley, use your authority. I am sure they could remain another day."
"Oh, yes, I am sure we could," cried Kitty; "they could not wish us to miss the charades—it would spoil everything if we could not be here."
Bingley looked at Georgiana and asked her, smiling, if she thought it could be managed, but she had already given an imploring, though unheeded, glance towards Kitty, and now replied, in a low voice: "It is very kind of you, but we ought not to stay, I am sure. The carriage will be coming for us, and we ought not to detain it for a whole day."
"What does it matter, Georgiana," Kitty exclaimed, "only for one day! Elizabeth will not mind. Don't you care about the charades, and about putting a stop to the whole thing? We can easily be spared, if that is what you are thinking; the ball is not until Friday."
Georgiana, blushing, and distressed by finding herself the object of attack, was endeavouring to maintain her ground without giving offence, when Jane came to her assistance.
"Georgiana is perfectly in the right," she said, "and sorry though I am to lose them both, there is no doubt that they will be expected back to-morrow without fail. But that is no reason why the charades need be given up, for as we shall all be coming over to Pemberley on the following day, we can give them there that evening, if my sister and Mr. Darcy will consent to be audience, and our performance to-night will serve as a kind of rehearsal."
This suggestion was enthusiastically received, as it met all difficulties, and Kitty forgot to reprove Georgiana for hurrying her away, in the contemplation of the news with which they would return home, and the delightful bustle of preparation that would ensue. Jane and Bingley had not quite the same views, and they spoke privately to Georgiana before she left, asking her to take a message begging Elizabeth and Darcy not to put themselves to any trouble about the arrangements for the stage, which need only be of the very simplest nature, a sufficiency screen and lamps being all that would be asked for.
The rehearsal proceeded in admirable style. Mr. Bertram had constituted himself stage-manager, and gave everyone minute instructions as to their movements and attitudes, shouted directions from the midst of an imaginary audience, and hastened at the last moment to take his place in the scenes where he was required to be actor as well. With some assistance from Mr. Bingley, he had allotted the various parts, and as he was so fortunate as to be able to regard all four ladies from an absolutely impartial standpoint, his judgments were, on the whole, tolerably good; although the usual difficulties of such an occasion arose, and had to be smoothed away, as, for instance, when Mrs. Bingley positively declined to play a part which required any acting, although she was the only person who looked the Queen to perfection; or when Miss Darcy wanted to give up an important part to Miss Bennet, whom it did not suit at all, simply because the latter was anxious to wear the dress that went with it; or when Miss Bingley desired to represent both Lady Macbeth and Joan of Arc, and could not be made to understand that she could take only one, on account of the necessity for passing quickly from one scene to another. All, however, was amicably arranged before the evening ended, and when the others went to bed, Tom Bertram sat up, desperately writing lists of the properties and accessories which he deemed necessary to the performance.
Kitty was partly consoled for the agony of quitting Desborough Park by the prospect of a reunion of the family under such enticing circumstances, and Georgiana was sensible of the advantage of having two or more evenings of excitement to prepare for and look forward to, to sustain Kitty's spirits, which might otherwise have suffered some diminution of liveliness in consequence of Mr. Price's not having made his offer before they left. Kitty talked of it, and of him, and of the charades, incessantly and inextricably all the way home; and it was fortunate that Elizabeth was alone when they arrived, for it was hardly possible for Kitty to disentangle the three subjects in giving a description of their visit. Elizabeth made her happy by a kindly reception of the plan for the following evening, and a promise to invite the Ferrars and Mrs. Jennings to witness the charades; and when she had darted away to the nursery with some presents sent by Jane to the little Darcys, Elizabeth smilingly asked Georgiana if, from her own observation, she could confirm Kitty's eager anticipations. Georgiana could only reply that she believed all was going well; that Mr. Price was more charming than ever, and the only difficulty in the way of forming a judgment was that he was equally charming to everyone.
"I suppose Kitty's preference for him was very clearly marked?" said Elizabeth.
"Yes," replied Georgiana, "I am rather afraid it was; but he appeared to accept it without any embarrassment, and the understanding between them seemed so good that I do not think therecanbe any fear of his disappointing her; we were almost always all together at Desborough, and I used to think he was only awaiting an opportunity of seeing her alone."
"Or she used to think so, perhaps?" said Elizabeth. "Well, I trust it is going to end satisfactorily; meantime, I am most anxious to see this paragon, with whom Jane, for her letter, seems to be nearly as much delighted as you and Kitty are."
Kitty was allowed to be the bearer of the note, conveying the invitation, to the Rectory party the next morning; and while Mrs. Ferrars was writing a reply in another room, the enthusiastic young lady was able to pour out her heart to the equally enthusiastic old lady. Mrs. Jennings received her with much warmth, and immediately began a series of questions which she usually answered herself at the same time that Kitty was giving a reply, so that the real and the imaginary descriptions were inseparably mingled together.
"And how was the young officer, my dear? Ay, ay, you need not tell me: as handsome and as attentive as ever, I can see by your eyes."
"Yes, just as handsome as ever, dear Mrs. Jennings, and attentive—yes—but you see we were a small party, so he could not devote himself entirely—"
"Ah, but I fancy hedid—did he not now? You need not be so modest about it; these small parties are the very thing for the right people always to pair off together. Lord! how well I remember when Mr. Palmer was courting Charlotte, and there was a young man, too, coming after my niece, and my sister used to say: 'It won't be a match this time, Sarah,' and I'd say, 'You wait and see Henrietta; each of the girls has got her beau, and there's a room for each to sit in; and the weather's very bad;' and sure enough, the very next Monday—did you not say you had bad weather, too, my dear?"
"I did not say so, Mrs. Jennings, but we did have some rain and snow."
"I thought as much; well, well, you are a lucky girl, to have it all your own way, and your friends liking him so much, too; I suppose he will speak to Mr. Darcy when he comes over here, as your father is not just at hand."
"Dear Mrs. Jennings, you are making too much of it; he has not spoken to me yet, you know: it is only that we are good friends, and he seems to enjoy talking to me, and Jane was so kind, and let us sit together."
"That is quite right, my dear, just as it should be; I'll warrant your sister Jane is a very sensible woman; and these charades, too, just the thing. There, I am downright pleased to think I shall see the finish of it. This acting, I suppose was the young man's idea? he is a clever one, I know."
"No, it was not his; though, of course, he does it better than anyone else. It was Mr. Bertram's idea—his cousin, who came with him."
"His cousin! Ah, yes, the other young man, I recollect. He was invited for Miss Darcy, wasn't he? Come, come, now, Miss Bennet, no secrets among friends."
"There is no secret, ma'am," returned Kitty, laughing, "I do not think he was invited for Miss Darcy, or anyone; my sister did not know him before."
"You may be sure that was in her mind. Is he not heir to some great property? It seems to me I have heard so."
"He is heir to his father, Sir Thomas Bertram, in Northamptonshire; I do not know if it is a great property."
"You may make up your mind that it is, and that something will come of it, my dear Miss Bennet. A baronet! the very thing for Miss Darcy. Her brother and your sister would be sure to look high. Was he not a fine young man, and did they not make a nice couple?"
"I do not know—I did not think of it; but, Mrs. Jennings—"
"No, no, indeed, of course not. We all know what your thoughts were full of" (laughing heartily), "and very naturally, too. Never mind, my dear, we shall hear all about it before long, and you shall see if I ain't right. Lord! what a thing this will be to Elinor! She thinks no one is good enough for Miss Darcy. Well, well, it will be an evening to look forward to. Only come and tell me when I am to make my congratulations, for they will be on the tip of my tongue, and monstrous glad I shall be to get them off. Will it be to-night, I wonder, or to-morrow night? These young sailors can't afford to let the grass grow under their feet. And your dress, my dear, what did you say it was going to be?"
In such pleasant anticipations the time passed quickly until the re-entrance of Mrs. Ferrars with her note, when Kitty felt obliged to return to Pemberley, as their visitors were to arrive early, and there were still many preparations to be completed. As she walked homewards, she was in a glow of delight over the visions which their talk had evoked, and Mrs. Jennings's prophecy with regard to Georgiana and Mr. Bertram fitted into its place in the same cheerful picture. Undoubtedly Mrs. Jennings was quite right; she so seldom erred in her judgments! Kitty could not recollect that those two had ever seemed specially pleased with each other, but in all probability they were, for, now that she came to think of it, there was no one else for Georgiana, and Mr. Bertram matched her as naturally as Mr. Price did Kitty herself. Yes, it was most likely that they would soon be engaged, perhaps married, before another, and to Kitty, a more interesting couple! No, that would certainly not do. If the wedding at Longbourn must be a less magnificent affair than the one at Pemberley, if Kitty could not aspire to a wedding-dress trimmed with such lace as Miss Darcy had inherited from her mother, at all events she would have the honour and importance of being married first. With smiles of satisfaction, she pictured the sending out of the invitations, and had decided on the form of them, and the number of recipients, by the time she re-entered the house.
The same subject absorbed the attention of the two ladies she had just left. Mrs. Jennings could not refrain from recounting to her hostess the conjecture she had instantly founded upon her knowledge of Mr. Bertram's existence; and though Mrs. Ferrars was well acquainted with her friend's flights of imagination, she had no positive arguments to array against this one, and was obliged to content herself with urging Mrs. Jennings to let no hint drop of her suspicions until something should occur to confirm them, as it would be so painful for both the young people. Mrs. Jennings promised caution, at the same time being evidently unwilling to relinquish an idea that pleased her so much, and Mrs. Ferrars perceived that it would be necessary to repeat the warnings very often before the following evening, when her friend and her husband would go to the Pemberley ball without her, as she dreaded over-fatigue; on the first evening, the occasion of the charades, she intended to be present, and hoped to be able to control and check Mrs. Jennings's remarks, should they threaten to become embarrassing. Knowing her intense and freely-expressed interest in her fellow-creatures, Mrs. Jennings's friends would have been glad to bargain for not more thanonelove affair to be in progress at one time under her eyes!
The arrival of the party from Desborough could not fail to bring, even to dignified Pemberley, a pleasant sense of bustle and excitement; and in the first flood of greetings, introductions, and inquiries, Elizabeth and her husband were only aware of a generally agreeable impression of Mr. Bingley's two young guests; of Tom Bertram, good-looking, fashionable, easy and talkative, and of William Price, with his shorter, sturdier figure, fine open countenance, and manners which, with no want of animation, yet attracted by their quiet simplicity. Even in the short time since the two sets of friends had been parted, a great deal seemed to have happened which must be talked over. Bingley wished to narrate, to anyone who would listen to him, the wonderful achievements of his shooting-party yesterday, who had accounted for an incredible number of pheasants; Mr. Bertram had taken possession of Georgiana, in order to propound to her at great length a scheme for altering and improving several of the charade scenes; and William Price, who was somehow established on a settee by Kitty, was telling her how far he had succeeded in the task she had bequeathed to him, of endeavouring to teach Mrs. Bingley's parrot to talk. The whole party were comfortably disposed round the drawing-room fire, and looked like remaining there until it was time to dress for dinner; but Tom Bertram, not satisfied with explaining, wished to demonstrate, and presently asked if he might see the acting-room, after which he was not long in requesting the presence of his whole company there, to see if they understood their movements and positions on the new stage. Kitty had undertaken to show him all their preparations, and had carried off William Price with her, and Bingley followed, with many good-humoured grumblings, summoning his sister, who was not anxious to break off conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam, in the course of which she was examining him closely as to his reasons for quitting London so abruptly in the summer. It was necessary, however, to assert her position as leading lady, so she joined the others, Georgiana slipping in with her, and watching for opportunities to make herself useful, while in the intervals she put the final stitches in a head-dress for Kitty. Mrs. Bingley was allowed to excuse herself, pleading fatigue, and the presence of a sufficiently large number of persons at this informal rehearsal, a reason fully justified by the bursts of laughter and sounds of prolonged argument which occasionally penetrated through the folding doors.
When, after a hasty toilet, the actors returned to the saloon, the dinner guests had already arrived. Kitty was so distressingly conscious of the confidences she had so freely given, that she kept in the background while the two young men were being introduced to Mrs. Jennings, and avoided meeting her eye. Mrs. Jennings shook hands with them both warmly, and congratulated them upon having discovered such a delightful form of amusement for themselves and the young ladies as acting charades, these long evenings.
"Madam," returned Tom Bertram, with a bow, "let us hope that the amusement will not be entirely on the side of the performers, since the hard work is not the exclusive share of the spectators."
"Oh, law, Mr. Bertram, you quite mistake me; as to amusement, I can assure you it will be the greatest treat to me and Mrs. Ferrars; but you must admit that the hard work is not just the sort a young fellow gets soon tired of, is it, now?"
"You think so, because you cannot see behind the scenes, Mrs. Jennings," interposed William Price, assuming an air of solemnity; "I do not imagine my cousin would care to have command of a troupe of actors, such as we are, for long together; you have no conception of what amount of trouble we give him, I mean, the unruly ones."
Mrs. Jennings highly appreciated the allusion which she supposed these words to contain, and tapping William on the arm with her fan, she exclaimed: "Ay, ay, Mr. Price, I understand you, but you and Mr. Bertram will have the whip-hand by and by, and then you can get some of your own back."
"I am sure Mr. Bertram is an excellent stage-manager," said Mrs. Ferrars, who had not heard all that passed, but judged by Mr. Price's puzzled look, and Mrs. Jennings's laughter, that it was time to intervene; "I cannot think how you have been able to work up your charades and be ready for an audience within so short a time."
"It can only be proved that the charades are sufficiently worked up, when we see whether the audience are sufficiently perplexed by them," said Bingley. "If you guess the words at once, we shall feel that we have utterly failed."
"Do not overestimate our intellects, my dear Bingley," said his host. "As Mrs. Jennings says, these charades are sport to you, and as a natural consequence they are presumably death to us."
"Nonsense, Darcy," exclaimed Bingley, in the midst of the storm of laughing protests evoked by this remark, "think of the acting, and the splendidmise en scène, if your heart fails within you. Besides, you can always applaud. Nowadays it is the fashion to admire loudest what one understands least."
Darcy led the way to the dining-room with Mrs. Jennings, and as the ladies of the party out-numbered the gentlemen, William Price found that it fell to his lot to escort both Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet. The former, seeing this, stepped on for a pace or two in advance, and Kitty, as she took his arm, murmured: "HowdiscouragingDarcy is! He always manages to make one feel that he despises the things we are doing."
William glanced to see if Mr. Darcy's sister had heard, and rejoined, "I should hardly have thought so. He is only teasing, I fancy, and you know he was speaking to Mr. Bingley, and they probably understand each other particularly well."
"Still," said Kitty, "I must say I do not like that sort of teasing; it is very provoking to be continually laughed at, and for one's best friend to do it makes it all the worse."
"No, no, Miss Bennet, I am afraid I can't agree with you there; one can put up with anything from one's best friend, or at all events with things which one would not stand for a moment from anyone else. I wonder if Miss Darcy feels that too?" he added, as they settled themselves into their places at the table.
"I am not quite sure," replied Georgiana, when the question had been explained to her. "I think that ridicule may be harder to bear from our friends than from an uninterested person, merely because one feels they ought to know best what is painful to one—if it is of a painful kind; but on the other hand, one may always feel sure that a real friend had no intention of saying anything of the sort."
"That would not be much good tome!" cried Kitty. "I find it is too late, when I have already been very much vexed with anyone, to remember that they really did not mean to vex me."
"Of course, it is not much consolation, when the blow has been already dealt," said Georgiana musingly; "I meant that when one has reason to believe no unkind motive exists behind anything one's friend says, then one is not expecting to be hurt."
Kitty did not want to seem inclined to pursue the subject, and William Price, after a moment's pause, said: "I imagine that you mean, by a motive, the general feeling of goodwill in your friend's mind towards you. I should doubt if people really have a distinct motive for every little thing they do and say—at all events, they would have some difficulty in defining one. But perhaps you yourself, Miss Darcy, are a student of motives—perhaps your own actions are determined by a clear purpose?"
"Mine? Oh, dear, no," said Georgiana, looking up at him, and down again with a bright blush. "I think it is rather interesting to speculate upon other people's motives and to wonder what hidden impulses make them do certain things which seem hard to account for; but as to myself—oh, no, I never understand my own motives—I do not always know what they are. Do you understand yours?"
"Well, yes, I think so; not that I have ever troubled much about it, but on general principles, I think I always do things, or try to do them, either because I want to very much, or because it is a matter of professional duty."
"Then you are decidedly to be congratulated, Mr. Price," said Georgiana, smiling. "I should—I mean, most people would think themselves fortunate if they had two such burning lights to guide them. I suppose the way is so clear that you do not need to seek any further motives, as to why you want to do the thing so much, for instance?"
"Of course not," promptly replied William, "that would be looking back. How would one ever steer a ship, unless one kept one's eyes fixed on the course ahead? If you suspect there are rocks, you must avoid them, but it would be a waste of time wondering how you came to be where you are. You see that, too, do you not?"
"Yes, I see what you mean," replied Georgiana, "but I am afraid I have not learnt to steer my ship quite so well, or perhaps I have too many lights, and they are confusing."
William began to reply, but was interrupted by Kitty, tired of a conversation in which she had no share. "Mr. Price, do you know what you have done? refused the lobster sauce! What can you be thinking of? your turbot will not be half so nice without it!"
William made proper apologies to the bearer of the lobster sauce, who returned it at Kitty's summons, and she was pacified by Mr. Price's applying himself to his dinner, and entering heartily into a reminiscence of hers at a dinner-party at Mrs. Knightley's, when they had met for the first time, and when there had also—strange coincidence—been turbot for dinner.
Georgiana was glad to sit for a while in silent thought. Mr. Price's suggestion, that her life was governed by a distinct purpose, appeared sadly wide of the mark. Did not the mistakes she had made in the past show that she was merely drifting, lamentably weak, and having no sound judgment of her own? Whereas people like Kitty, who had given themselves up to the guidance of a definite aspiration, and Mr. Price, too, who had owned what lights he was steering by, would they not soon be in safe harbour? It seemed so, and Georgiana almost envied them of that delightful security, for of late she had allowed herself to wonder if such heights of happiness would ever be attainable by herself, and a longing had sometimes crept over her, since she had known and liked Mr. Price, that she might meet someone who could be to her what he was to Kitty.
Throughout the remainder of dinner she did not have any further conversation with William Price, though occasionally appealed to by one or other of them to give an opinion upon some point at issue, generally connected with the charades. With Mrs. Ferrars, who sat on her other side, she enjoyed a quiet little talk, and before they left the table Elinor inquired casually whether Mr. Bertram was nice—whether they had found him pleasant.
"Yes, I think so—I think we all like him very much," replied Georgiana, who until that moment had not formed any estimate of him. "He is very lively—and he has taken an immense deal of trouble about the charades—and Mr. Bingley, I know, considers him an excellent shot."
"That is quite an adequate description of him in a few words," said Elinor. "I wondered what you all thought of him, as I know you had not met before. He is not much like his cousin, is he?"
"No, indeed," responded Georgiana, speaking with more animation. "Could you imagine a greater contrast? One can see at a glance how different their lives and professions have been, and how different their characters must be."
"I should be interested to hear," said Elinor in a low tone, and with a smile, "what you take to be the chief points of unlikeness in their characters, if you were not sitting too near to one of them to tell me."
Georgiana smiled and shook her head. "I could not very well, and I am sure you can read faces as well as anybody."
"I understand," said Elinor, "that the one we mentioned first is heir to a title and a large estate."
"I believe so," replied Georgiana, "but the other is fortunate in needing neither titles nor large estates to recommend him."
Elinor needed nothing further to convince her that Mrs. Jennings's suspicions, as far as Georgiana was concerned, were perfectly groundless; what the Bingleys might be desiring of her, or Mr. Bertram aiming at, was another matter. Certainly an onlooker could hardly help thinking of the probabilities of the match, with a handsome and wealthy young man on the one side, and a girl of Georgiana's beauty, accomplishments and high birth on the other.
All went well; the dinner came to an end; the actors retired to dress, and the six members of the audience disposed themselves in armchairs in front of the curtain, and prepared to be mystified. The performance commenced after no longer delay than is usual on occasions of this kind, and opened with a duel scene, in which Bingley and Tom Bertram aimed pistols at one another in a most realistic manner, but failed to kill each other, owing to one weapon missing fire, and the ball of the other not penetrating a vital part. Two of the ladies rushed in and made demonstrations of relief at finding the wounded hero able to walk off the field. The next scene represented a card-room, with a party of players, and Bingley as the inveterate gambler staking higher and higher, until all was lost on turning up of a fatal four of hearts. Next was seen William Price as Richard I, in prison, aroused from despair at the sound of Blondel's harp, and the vision at the barred window of the minstrel, impersonated by Miss Bingley, cloaked and hooded and playing on a zither. The whole word gave a fine opportunity to Tom Bertram to exhibit his comedy powers in the part of a gentleman whose pocket is picked of a purse of money, his lamentations to his family, his efforts to recover it, and the final restoration of the purse, by then totally empty.
Much laughter and applause followed this conclusion, and though the word "misfortune" was presently discovered by the audience without any further help, they were delighted with the spirited and vigorous quality of the acting, which had conveyed so much to them in dumb show, not a word being spoken on the stage. Darcy's only adverse criticism was that so far there had not been enough for the ladies to do; but this defect was remedied in the next word, which consisted of only three scenes. In the first, Miss Bingley made a very tolerable Lady Macbeth, striving to cleanse her hands of blood while she walks in her sleep, and is observed by her gentlewoman and doctor; the second showed Joan of Arc, in the person of Kitty, led to the stake, while the others grouped themselves round and endeavoured to look as numerous as possible, in the parts of the judges, soldiers and executioners. Poor Kitty's slight figure, and insignificant presence, made it difficult for the character to be well realized in her; and Mr. Bertram's frown as he looked at her was not an assumed one, for he had originally cast Miss Darcy for the part, and had expostulated vehemently when she had insisted on yielding to the broadly-hinted-at wishes of her friend. Finally, Mrs. Bingley, as Cleopatra, looked exceedingly handsome in a robe as Egyptian as it could be made on short notice, and received the asp from a basket held by Georgiana, while Miss Bingley represented her other "handmaid."
This word was not so easily guessed as the other, and Darcy and Fitzwilliam were the first to arrive at it, while Elizabeth had to attend to the panegyrics of Mrs. Jennings and the more quietly expressed admiration of Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars. The former had indeed forgotten that there was anything to guess, so enchanted was she with the whole proceeding, so convinced that Miss Bennet and Miss Darcy were two of the most beautiful and gifted beings who had ever appeared on any stage, and it was only by making really meritorious effort at self-control, that she refrained from descanting on the good fortune of the two young men whom she supposed to be their respective admirers. She was still talking eagerly about the dresses, and the snake, and the pile of wood that looked so terribly real, and Mr. Bertram's being so clever and funny when he pretended to be angry, when the curtain rose on a new scene, and the spectators found themselves in another period of the past. Miss Bingley, an unmistakable Queen Elizabeth, graciously received a folio from Shakespeare, handed a ring to Essex, and on departing, stepped on a cloak laid down for her by Raleigh. In spite of this astonishing disregard for chronology, the scene was greatly enjoyed, as was also the next, which with the aid of a great deal of imagination, represented the deck of a ship. Here William Price had the leading part; he received a party of ladies on board, showed them all round the vessel, in such a lively manner that the deficiencies in the setting of the stage were hardly observed, gave orders to his sailors, and finally took an affectionate farewell of his friends, with much waving of handkerchiefs as the ship was supposed to sail away, and Kitty wept real tears of nervousness and excitement. The audience had had time to put the first and second syllables together while the ship was being cleared away, and they were in a measure prepared for the subject of the last scene, which reflected great credit on the stage-manager. It was a very pretty adaptation ofThe Taming of the Shrew, and showed the young girls in the characters of Bianca and Katharina, Kitty, of course, taking that of her namesake, in an episode of her stormy wooing by Petruchio, while Georgiana, as Bianca, submitted to a gentler form of love-making over a music lesson. The curtain was lowered for a moment before the sequel was given, wherein the two husbands, enacted by Tom Bertram and William Price, wager of their wives' obedience, and the conduct of the sisters proved how far marriage had altered them. To Mrs. Jennings's extreme delight, the part of Petruchio was taken by William Price, and this seemed to her to settle the whole manner finally, a view which was confirmed when she heard the word "courtship" passed from one to another of her companions.
"What do you think of that now, my dear?" she whispered loudly into the ear of Mrs. Ferrars. "What have I been telling you all along? Nothing could be clearer. A very pretty way of showing their friends, I say. 'Courtship,' you see, my dear. Ha ha! very pretty indeed. No, no, trust me. I shall not say a word until I am told. I know better than that. And the other one, too. It all points the same way, does it not? Well, I declare, I have not seen anything to please me so much this long time."
The actors presently reappeared, when they had resumed ordinary dress, all a good deal fatigued, but in high spirits and much gratified by the unstinted congratulations of their friends. Mrs. Bingley and Miss Darcy, indeed, shrank from praise, for to Georgiana it had all been rather an ordeal when the time came, and she had been conscious of doing her part stiffly and without natural ease, and Jane declared she had not acted at all, for she would not have known how to do it; she had simply stood about, under Mr. Bertram's directions, and worn the clothes that had been contrived for her. But the others were not so diffident, for Bingley and William Price had enjoyed the whole thing heartily, and appreciated the joke of throwing themselves into an imaginary character. Kitty had enjoyed the acting and the applause, the pleasure of being with William Price had been quite intoxicating, and not being altogether without aptitude, she had really acquitted herself with some spirit, particularly in the scenes fromThe Taming of the Shrew. But it was to Miss Bingley and Mr. Bertram, in their own estimation, that the honours of the evening belonged. They received all compliments with the utmost complacency, and Caroline was heard explaining to Mr. Ferrars and Colonel Fitzwilliam, as they all moved towards the dining-room for supper, that she had modelled her conception of Lady Macbeth on that of Mrs. Siddons, which she had seen so frequently and studied so closely as to be quite at home in the portrayal of it. The lady might perhaps have selected other listeners had she known the associations which one of them had with that play.
"It does you great credit, Miss Bingley," said Darcy, who had been listening to her. "It has been an evening of surprises, has it not, Elizabeth? I could not have believed that there was so much hidden talent among us, which would never have been unburied but for the happy idea of these charades."
"It is always so, I can assure you, Mr. Darcy," said Tom Bertram. "Once you decide to act, you can always discover talent in any collection of people, ample for your needs. Of course, one or two will always stand out, by reason of greater ability; but you must know how to select your players, so that everyone has a part worthy of him."
"I am afraid some of us had parts we were not worthy of, to-night," cried William. "I never felt such a fool as when I was playing Petruchio, and nothing but the kindness of Miss Bennet could have pulled me through. It needs a fellow about six feet high; I always said you ought to have done it yourself, Tom."
"My dear William, we have been through all this before. You know, I should have liked nothing better, but I decided, after due consideration, that I could not do justice to the principal part, when I had to be directing the full company, all on stage at once. You hardly realize my responsibility. But, rest assured, you did not do it so badly."
"I think you managed most wonderfully, Mr. Bertram," said Mrs. Ferrars. "To have to arrange the scenes, drill the other performers, and appear in every scene yourself! It was a task few people could have undertaken." Mr. Bertram bowed, as if there were a foregone conclusion.
"Mr. Bertram has had a good deal of experience in private theatricals," said Georgiana.
"I have, indeed," said that gentlemen. "Few men in England have had more, I should say, and anyone who is known to be fairly well up in these things, is naturally in request whenever they are going forward. And I have been lucky, too, in my companies. I do not think I have ever known a real failure, except perhaps once—"
Mrs. Ferrars's attention was just then called off, and he turned to Georgiana. "Did I ever tell you, Miss Darcy, about that one time when we attempted to do a little acting at my father's house—at Mansfield Park?"
"No, I do not think you did."
"Well, it is a long story; it might not wholly interest you—thank you, yes, some cold chicken—but the substance of it was that we had decided to act a play, amongst ourselves, you know; a pleasant party—divided among the two households, as this might be; just the very people for acting; free to rehearse—it is true my brother had made some difficulties; but all was going smoothly and our friends seemed to be then all one could wish. I am not sure that Miss Crawford had much idea of acting; but still, she might have improved."
"Miss Crawford!" exclaimed Georgiana, and involuntarily glanced round to make sure that Colonel Fitzwilliam had not overheard her. Seeing him occupied in talking to William Price, she continued in a lower tone: "I did not know that you knew Miss Crawford, and I am so much interested. Have you heard anything of her lately?"
Mr. Bertram could hardly believe his ears. He looked at Miss Darcy in the greatest astonishment. "Certainly I know, or used to know, Miss Crawford, but, naturally, I have not heard anything of her for several years."
Georgiana was puzzled by his manner, and felt that in some strange way she had made a mistake; so after a moment's pause she said: "It was stupid of me not to recollect that you must be acquainted with Miss Crawford too, as I was already aware that Mr. Price was. I suppose it was at the same time you were speaking of—at your father's house—that he met her."
Mr. Bertram had by this time partly recovered from the shock of finding there was anyone who did not know of the Rushworth-Crawford case, and said: "I beg your pardon, Miss Darcy, but your question was a surprise to me. No, I have quite lost sight of Miss Crawford, and I daresay you know more of her now than I do. You are a friend of hers, I assume."
"No," returned Georgiana, beginning to regret having pursued the subject, "I have only met her once, for a few minutes, but my brother and sister knew her fairly well in Bath."
"In Bath? Ah, yes, I heard that they had settled there."
Georgiana now wished nothing better than to find a new topic or a new companion without delay; but Mr. Bertram, having rapidly disposed of his cold chicken, began again: "You must not mistake me, Miss Darcy. I should be very glad to hear good news of Miss Crawford once more. It is a long time since our families held any intercourse, for—without going into details, her brother behaved like—indeed, is—an intolerable scoundrel; but as to his sister, she had nothing to do with that. She enjoyed amusing herself, I fancy, as much as most people do, but there was really no harm in it, as events proved. We all thought her a very bright, pretty, accomplished girl. But one thing followed another, and, of course, people are bound to hold by their relations, are they not?"
"Yes, indeed," assented Georgiana warmly, who had listened with the deepest interest to this recital, which, fragmentary though it was, seemed to agree with that strange rumour which Lady Catherine had written about from Bath. She pondered over it, and though reluctant to be indebted to Mr. Bertram for further information, she could not help wanting to have her own opinion once more confirmed.
"I am glad to hear you say that, Mr. Bertram. I thought Miss Crawford charming, and I heard the same from everyone who met her; but I think she may have been misjudged—blamed, perhaps, some time or other, for the faults of those who belonged to her."
"Quite true, Miss Darcy; I have no doubt you have hit upon the secret. Indeed, my brother-in-law, Yates, used to say much the same. She was certainly a very handsome girl, and it was a thousand pities she never had the chance to play Amelia. I did not finish telling you about our play: the parts were all cast, the stage was prepared, the rehearsals in full progress. Yates was, after myself, the leading spirit—I think you said you had met my friend Yates, Miss Darcy—"
He was fairly started, and Georgiana had time to grow weary of the history ofLovers' Vowsand its ultimate conclusion, before the announcement was made of "Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars's carriage," which broke up the party. Everyone moved towards the hall, and cloaks were fetched while Mrs. Jennings loudly uttered her good-nights interspersed with many complimentary remarks to the actors. William Price had hurried back to the room they had called the green room, to search for a cherished ornament of Kitty's which she had mislaid, so he escaped from congratulations to which, in his case, Mrs. Jennings would have given a double edge, and Kitty contrived to avert her share by murmuring as she embraced her guest: "I shall come and see you to-morrow." Nevertheless, Mrs. Jennings was not to be entirely baulked of her intention, and the long conversation between Mr. Bertram and Miss Darcy had attracted her notice; so in wishing Tom Bertram good-night, she managed to add a few words, felicitating him upon his success in another field besides that of the drama. Laughing heartily at his look of blank astonishment, she passed on, and as she never felt quite as well able to approach Miss Darcy on these subjects as other people, she contented herself with a sly glance, remarking: "Well, Miss Darcy, and what a delightful evening it has been! We have not heard the last of these charades yet, for many a long day, have we? Why, all the pleasantest part of them is still to come, I fancy."
Georgiana succeeded in avoiding a reply; she supposed the allusion was to Kitty, but she always preferrednotto understand Mrs. Jennings whenever possible. The visitors directly afterwards went away, and the ladies retired, the gentlemen sitting up for some time longer.