"'I regret, my dear Lydia, to be obliged to speak plainly and say that the
less Mr Darcy meets Mr Wickham the more likely is his benevolence to
continue.' Now, Mrs Wickham, in view of that statement, where is the sense
in urging me to accompany you to Rosings?"
He threw it back to her, and leaned in his chair, staring at his boots
with a very discontented expression. I am no eavesdropper, Sophia, but the
Admiral was still engaged with his plate, and I could not withdraw; and
though I looked pointedly at the lady, she took no notice.
"It would show more consideration for me, Wickham, if you was to come. You
know how poor my nerves are, and the flutterations I suffer from at the
thought of seeing Darcy. Such a stiff, starched man--I don't know how
Elizabeth endures him. And the last time I stayed at Pemberley, the airs
of her maid sunk my spirits altogether. I have not a gown equal to her
black silk. The miseries our marriage has brought upon me--Good God! what
a fool I was!"
"It was certainly not forced upon _you_, Madam, whatever it might be
on me."
"A pleasant allusion, I must say," said Mrs Wickham, tossing her ringlets;
then, beginning to giggle: "But you was always a quiz, Wickham, and don't
mean the half you say. You know how I hate travelling alone, whereas you
and me could pick up some friends on the way, and have a hand at cards.
Don't drink no more now. You will want your head clear for the races. Did
you ever see such a scare as that bonnet yonder?"
There wag no mistaking who she meant, my dear Sophia; and though it is
true I had on my beaver bonnet and blue veil, a little disordered by the
wind, still there was no excuse for her unladylike freedom. I felt my
complexion heighten indignantly. Mr Wickham took no notice.
"I wish to heaven," he said gloomily, "that I could perform if it were the
most trifling service to Darcy, to lessen this load of obligation. There
are times--" But his lady was giggling, and waving her hand to a lady at
some distance, and, rising, he strode away.
But what was I to think? For I had been informed by Marianne Brandon that
Mr and Mrs Darcy are the chief residents at Hunsdon, where he inherited
the noble estate of Rosings from his aunt, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh,
whose daughter and heiress died. Mrs Darcy was formerly a Miss Elizabeth
Bennet, and this sister, Mrs Wickham, had been of by no means
irreproachable conduct. And this was she! Such impropriety of demeanour!
Such a vulgar insipidity! If Mrs Darcy in any way resembled her, I feared
our hope of pleasant society was destined to disappointment. Such
connections!
I broke the matter with my dear Sir Charles; but he pooh-poohed my
anxieties in his sailorly fashion, saying:--
"There's many a bad egg from a good nest, my Lady, and Mrs Darcy may be a
valuable woman, for all her sister looks such a slut. And I would have you
by no means be cackling about this meeting all over the neighbourhood."
Cackling! But you, my dear Sophia, know the energy with which the Admiral
expresses himself. It was his mode of recommending discretion.
Next morning we started, and saw them no more; but I understood from the
remark of one waiter to another that Mr Wickham was a well-known figure in
the betting ring, and the races would engage their stay.
As our chaise and four rolled into Hunsdon, my spirits were elevated by
the beauty of the prospect, where a flourishing peasantry dwells in
prosperity under the protection of the worthy Darcy. The cottages, with
their rose-decked gardens and beehives, the rich pastures, with grazing
cattle and dotted with sheep, all expressed the idea of pastoral plenty;
and the handsome carriages and curricles passing gave us a high opinion of
the consequence of the neighbourhood. I roused the Admiral to partake my
pleasure, as we passed a beautiful little church with a handsome portico
in the Italian taste. We next drove by the Parsonage, standing in a green
lane and faced by the park palings of Rosings; and as we passed I observed
a sensible-looking lady at the window, whom I judged to be Mrs Collins.
The Rector, a tall heavy-featured man, tying up his carnations, hastened
at once to the gate, and by low bows, repeated until we were out of sight,
gave us our first welcome to Hunsdon. I would have prevailed on the
Admiral to stop in response to so much civility; but he refused, and
putting his head out of the window, desired John to drive on. I could only
hope Mr Collins did not hear him.
How shall I describe, my dear Sophia, the gratification with which I
beheld our new home! It is a long, low, white house, covered with roses
and clematis, with pleasant windows opening to smooth green lawns, and an
air of purity and order within which is peculiar to English homes. Having
travelled to Boulogne, I may be allowed to be a judge. The rows of
curtseying servants, headed by good Mrs Williams, the housekeeper, and
the Admiral's faithful butler, Sampson, gave us a rude but honest welcome,
and were ordered a couple of bottles of port to drink our healths.
Next day Mr and Mrs Collins waited upon us. She strikes me as a woman of
judgment, much inclined to reserve, and with a demure and settled manner;
but this, in her position, may be very necessary. The Rector--what shall I
say? This was his greeting:--
"It is with profound pleasure I have the honour to welcome Sir Charles
Sefton and your Ladyship to your magnificent abode in our humble village
of Hunsdon. We are indeed honoured by the choice of newcomers so
distinguished, to whom the highest circles of London or the amenities of
the world are alike open. But the refined and elegant society of this
neighbourhood will be found worthy of even such a mark of approbation. Mrs
Collins shares my sense of the distinction thus conferred upon us, and I
speak for her as well as myself."
She looked somewhat uncomfortable at this exuberance, accompanied with a
formal bow for every comma, but is probably used to it, for she quietly
made me a sensible little speech of welcome, to which I responded in kind.
"I thank you, Sir," replied my Admiral bluntly; "and you will find us
regular attendants at Divine Service, where we hope to benefit by your
discourses, which I hope excel in quality rather than quantity. Ha, ha!"
"My discourses, Sir Charles, never exceed half an hour, that being the
length preferred by the Right Honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who
presented me to this parish; and though she is now elevated to a sphere
higher even than that which she adorned on earth, I still observe her
wishes, and the rather that I have not had any intimation to the contrary
from Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, her nephew, or his amiable lady, to whom I have
the honour to be related."
"Indeed?" I said; "I was not aware. Do Mr and Mrs Darcy always reside
here?"
"They divide the year between Rosings and Pemberley in Derbyshire, your
Ladyship. But their daughters, the Misses Darcy, prefer Rosings, so they
are oftener here. And I am frequently in the habit of saying to Mrs Darcy
that when these fair flowers are transplanted to Pemberley, the gardens of
Rosings droop and wither. Elegant females are very susceptible to these
little attentions, as you are aware, and I never hesitate to offer them."
"Flummery and females!" interjected the Admiral. "I hope, Sir, it is not
your intention to spoil my Lady Sefton's digestion with this sort of
whipped cream!"