Elizabeth was anxious to see as much of Miss Crawford as possible before
their departure from Bath, which was now fixed for the 17th of April,
the day after Lady Catherine's reception. She accordingly made an excuse
to walk down to Mrs. Grant's house on the day before with the piece of
music, which it had occurred to her might be arranged with a setting for
the harp; and she found Miss Crawford in and alone. Mary was wearing her
bonnet and cloak and was wrapping up a parcel when Mrs. Darcy was
announced; and the latter exclaimed that she would not stay, as Mary was
just going out.
"No, no, I am not--it does not matter--I was only going to take this
parcel to Miss Elliot's--pray sit down, Mrs. Darcy--I can send it by the
boy"; and recalling the servant, Miss Crawford handed him the package
with directions to take it to Camden Place. Then returning, she threw
off her cloak and said: "It really does not signify in the least; it is
only a fan Miss Elliot lent me a few evenings ago--as an excuse, she
said, for seeing me again when I brought it back." This was spoken with
a slight blush, but on Elizabeth's repeating her regrets she exclaimed:
"Oh, but I would much rather stay and talk to you. I so seldom see you
alone; one seldom does see anyone alone in Bath, I think. What have you
brought? Some music? How delightful! You will play it to me now."
Elizabeth explained her scheme, and Miss Crawford examined the piece
with great interest, and presently declared she thought it would make an
admirable duet. As she walked across the room to the harp, Elizabeth
remarked: "If you like it, we might play it to-morrow night at my aunt's
reception."
Miss Crawford appeared to be busily tuning the strings of her harp, and
it was after a moment's pause that she replied: "I do not think we shall
be at Lady Catherine's reception."
"Not be there!" repeated Elizabeth, concealing her dismay as best she
could. "I am very sorry for that; we shall all be sorry not to see you
there."
"Thank you," returned Miss Crawford, and seemed unwilling to say more.
Elizabeth, however, could not bear to leave the subject at that point,
and after a few moments suggested that if Mrs. Grant did not feel equal
to going, she herself would be delighted to call for Miss Crawford and
take her to Pulteney Street.
"You are very kind, Mrs. Darcy, but it is not that," said Miss Crawford,
at length turning round and showing a countenance expressive of some
embarrassment. "The truth is," she continued, "and I know I can speak it
to a friend like yourself, that I don't think Lady Catherine really
wants such very small rushlights as ourselves in her firmament of
glittering stars. She cannot be said to know us; she has not called here
since I was introduced to her at that concert, and only sent us a note
late one evening asking us to come next day to Clifton. I do not in the
least mind being invited only on account of my music, but, as Frances
and I always agree, since I am not paid in money, I must be in manners.
Oh! I beg your pardon--" she stopped short, colouring and biting her
lip--"I should not have said that. Lady Catherine has, of course, a
perfect right to do as she likes. I daresay she has long forgotten
having given me an invitation."
"My dear Miss Crawford," exclaimed Elizabeth, whose colour had also
risen, "say no more; you quite put us all to shame. Was there ever such
an ill-mannered family? Of course, I thought that my aunt had sent you
and your sister an invitation in due form. You must let me take all the
blame to myself, for having omitted to remind her; we had talked, we had
assumed all this time that you would be at the reception, which must
account for my unpardonable forgetfulness of what should have been an
early and most pleasurable duty."
Miss Crawford tried to laugh the matter off by saying that it was in no
respect Mrs. Darcy's fault, and that the whole thing was too trifling to
deserve a moment's consideration; besides, she added, Mrs. Darcy had
presented her sister to Lady Catherine on one occasion, and could not
have done more; that she was sure she and Mrs. Grant would not be missed
at such a large party, and that she hoped to have other opportunities of
meeting Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.
"It is because I fear there will be so few more in Bath, owing to our
departure for home, that I am so particularly sorry to lose this one,
and also for the cause of it," returned Elizabeth. "I can quite enter
into your feelings, Miss Crawford, but will you do a very kind and
generous thing, and show that you have forgiven me by availing yourself
of my aunt's invitation if she tenders it in a manner you can accept?"
Miss Crawford could not be persuaded to give a definite assent to this
proposal; she tried to treat the matter of her going to the party or
staying away as no consequence, and laughingly protested that she would
send the harp alone, which would answer all purposes as far as Lady
Catherine was concerned. The utmost she could be induced to say was: "I
should be very glad to give _you_ the pleasure"; and with this Elizabeth
was obliged to be content. Nevertheless, Elizabeth was so extremely
desirous of securing Miss Crawford's presence, partly in the hope that
Lady Catherine might be more kindly disposed to her on a closer
acquaintance, and partly in order that Colonel Fitzwilliam might be
enabled to enjoy her company without fear of interruption from the
Elliots, that on leaving Mrs. Grant's house she hastened at once to
Pulteney Street, trusting to find Lady Catherine alone and disposed to
listen to her errand. In both these objects she was successful; for
though the inevitable Miss Steele was in the house, she was upstairs
with Miss de Bourgh, and Lady Catherine having just had a disappointment
in hearing that some old friends found themselves obliged to quit Bath
before her reception, was in a mood to demand Elizabeth's sympathy and
to discuss matters connected with entertainment.
"It really is exceedingly trying," she said. "I am not prepared for
these annoyances. At my age my friends should take care to spare me
them. I am convinced that Lady Alicia Markham's son is not so ill but
that he could have done without his mother for another two days."
Elizabeth condoled warmly, and listened to a description of the
arrangements for the evening, in which, it appeared, Mrs. Ferrars's
help had been invaluable; and when Lady Catherine named the musicians
she expected, Elizabeth took advantage of the opening thus afforded her,
by suggesting that a more formal invitation should be sent to Miss
Crawford, to ensure her presence.
Lady Catherine stared, and in a tone of offended surprise reminded her
of the first meeting with Miss Crawford. "You were present, I recollect,
Elizabeth, when she was introduced to me, and I gave her the opportunity
of bringing her instrument on this occasion."
"Yes, I remember its being mentioned," said Elizabeth, "but I hardly
think she took it as an invitation. I fancied you meant to follow it up
by calling on her and her sister."
"I may have had some thoughts of doing so," returned Lady Catherine
haughtily; "but in the end I decided that I did not choose it; I cannot
take up with all the new young ladies who come to Bath, and least of all
those who are talked of as much as she is. She is the greatest flirt
imaginable: that foolish old beau, Sir Walter Elliot, and half the men
of Bath are running after her."
"No, indeed, dear madam; you have been misinformed, and I must defend
her," said Elizabeth with more earnestness. "She is not in the least a
flirt, and though men may run after her, they receive no encouragement
to do so. But if you do not like her, there is no more to be said. Now,
whom could you get in her place? I do not know any other lady, but there
is a man at the theatre who is said to play the harp tolerably well."
Lady Catherine was silent for a moment with anger; then she broke out,
as Elizabeth had expected: "There is no one I can get in her place. The
impudent girl! She should be glad to come to a house like this. Probably
she is intending to come all the time, if the truth were known; how can
you tell she is not?"
"Only that when I last saw her she distinctly said that she and her
sister had no reason to think themselves expected."
"No reason! when with my own mouth I said, 'I should like you to come
and play at my house on the sixteenth.' Nothing could be clearer. As to
her sister, if that is the very ordinary-looking person whom I believe
you presented to me one morning, no, I do not recollect saying anything
to her; but it is not she who plays the harp."
"She is a very agreeable and cultured woman, widow of a Canon of
Westminster, and Miss Crawford goes nowhere without her."
"Well, it is all extremely annoying, and I do not know when I have been
so upset. You should have told her, Elizabeth, told her plainly that she
was to come. Really, the airs these people give themselves! Here is a
card; I will write their names and send it round this afternoon, and I
hope after that we shall have no more nonsense."
This by no means satisfied Elizabeth, and the next ten minutes were
spent by her in using every means of persuasion she could think of to
induce her aunt to repair all previous omissions by going to visit Mrs.
Grant and conveying her invitation in person. Lady Catherine at first
resisted the proposal indignantly, and would have continued to do so but
for her knowledge that Miss Crawford's music was to have been an
attractive part of the evening's entertainment, and an uncomfortable
recollection of having told many of her friends that they would hear a
person scarcely known, in whom she had discovered some remarkable
talent.
This she did not betray to her niece, and when the latter left the house
it was without having secured a definite promise, but Elizabeth felt
she had said as much as she safely could, and she walked home, pondering
on what had passed, and wondering uneasily whether what she had done had
been a real kindness to Mary. This question was also raised by her
husband, to whom she had related the affair on her return. He shook his
head over it, and gave it as his opinion that as his aunt had been rude
to Miss Crawford, and the latter was fully conscious of it, they would
not meet in a spirit conducive to future good feeling.
"But it would have been worse," said Elizabeth, "if Aunt Catherine had
counted on Miss Crawford's coming and she had not appeared. There would
have been no healing the breach then."
"Would it have greatly signified if there had been a breach?" inquired
Darcy. "But never mind, my dear, you have done your best, and it will be
interesting to see the result of Aunt Catherine's efforts at
conciliation--the first time she has ever appeared in such a role, I
should think."
Strangely enough, Lady Catherine's efforts were successful enough,
although no one ever knew precisely how she accomplished it. But it was
partly accounted for by the fact that she saw Mrs. Grant alone, Miss
Crawford being out. She had taken only her daughter with her, not
choosing that Miss Steele should be a witness of an interview which was
undoubtedly galling to her pride; and Mrs. Grant, realizing but a small
part of the great lady's insolence towards her sister, and the nature of
Mary's resentment of it, only perceived that Lady Catherine was anxious
to have them at the party, and was willing to acknowledge any remissness
in her manner of issuing the invitation. Lady Catherine was so relieved
at not having to apologize directly to the object of her dislike, that
she became, in the course of the interview, more and more
condescendingly gracious to Mrs. Grant, whom she found, as she
afterwards remarked to her daughter, an amiable, unpretentious person;
and actually admitted that she ought to have called sooner, but the
pressure of engagements in Bath at this period of the season was so
great. The call was strictly limited to a quarter of an hour, and Mrs.
Grant described it all to Mary when she came in with much spirit and
humour.
Mary, on hearing that her sister had actually accepted, was inclined to
be defiant, and to declare that she would have a headache and not go; of
course it was kind Mrs. Darcy's doing, but she did not care to accept
favours thrown at her at the eleventh hour like this, by ill-tempered
old ladies who only wanted to make use of her. Mrs. Grant, whose pride
in, and love of, her sister were unbounded, and who delighted in seeing
her shine by means of her beauty and talents, had great difficulty in
persuading her; in fact, when they met the Darcy party at the Lower
Rooms the following morning, Mary still declared that her coming was so
doubtful that it was not worth while to give Mrs. Darcy the trouble of
learning the duet.
Elizabeth, however, felt fairly confident of seeing her there, and
Colonel Fitzwilliam confirmed this by telling Elizabeth with a cheerful
glance that "she had not actually said she would not go." Their hopes
were realized by the arrival of the two sisters, Mary looking lovely and
sparkling in white with a few fine jewels, the gifts of her devoted
brother. Elizabeth, who had arrived some time earlier, happened to be
near her aunt, and so was able to satisfy herself that their reception
by their hostess was properly courteous, if not cordial. Lady Catherine
even took the trouble to mention the name of her daughter, who stood
close by, and Miss de Bourgh actually exerted herself so far as to make
two separate curtsies, though the remark that it was a cold evening was
taken out of her mouth by Anne Steele, who was standing next to her, and
evidently considered herself included in the introduction.
Elizabeth saw with delight that Colonel Fitzwilliam was impatiently
awaiting his turn after these formalities should be over, and that he
immediately placed himself by Miss Crawford's side. They seemed to have
much to say to one another; and Elizabeth, after greeting the two
ladies, and giving Mary an expressive glance of gratitude which conveyed
much more than her quiet remark: "It was kind of you to come," began to
converse with Mrs. Grant until music should be demanded of Mary.
Elizabeth was very well amused in watching the arrival of the guests,
and in noticing which of them were under the special patronage of the
Robert Ferrars, who appeared to have brought into Lady Catherine's
circle a number of individuals of about the same standing in the world
of fashion as themselves. Robert Ferrars was in his element, as though
he found entertaining in another person's house a much more satisfactory
matter than when the trouble and expense had to be incurred by himself,
besides having the advantage of being able to introduce his friends to
an earl's daughter as their hostess. When all who were expected had
arrived, he, in company with a showy-looking young man, dressed in the
extreme of fashion, began strolling about the rooms in search of someone
upon whom they could make an impression. Elizabeth thought that she and
her husband might at least have escaped Mr. Ferrars's civilities; and
great was her surprise when the young men paused before her, and Mr.
Ferrars begged leave to introduce his friend Mr. Yates, who had newly
come from London. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, he thought, might be interested to
meet Mr. Yates, in view of their intended journey, as Mr. Yates would be
able to give them all information as to the state of the roads.
Mrs. Darcy had scarcely made her curtsey and was about to frame some
suitable reply, when the glance of the newcomer happened to fall on Mrs.
Grant, who was seated on a low chair close by. He immediately pronounced
her name in tones of questioning surprise, and when she looked up,
exclaimed: "Yes, I was sure it was. Upon my word, madam, I take some
credit to myself, considering the length of time it is since we met. I
hope I am so fortunate as to recall myself to your remembrance?"
"You are very good, sir," replied Mrs. Grant, with a perceptible effort.
Her countenance expressed no great pleasure at the encounter. "Of
course, I recall you perfectly. Mrs. Yates, I trust, is quite well."
"Very well, I thank you, madam; and I hope the same may be said of your
fair sister, Miss Crawford--but perhaps she is no longer Miss Crawford?"
"Don't be under any alarm, Yates," struck in Robert Ferrars; "she is
still Miss Crawford, and you can judge for yourself how well she is, for
you will see and hear her to-night."
This speech was so offensive to Mrs. Grant that she cut short Mr.
Yates's compliments, and remarking, "Yes, I am glad to say my sister is
still with me," rose and prepared to move away. Elizabeth immediately
suggested that they should go in search of some tea, and the dismayed
Mr. Yates saw Mrs. Darcy departing before he had uttered a single word
about London, or about the distinguished people he had dined with the
night before last.
"Well, I'm very sorry, Ferrars," he replied to his friend's reproaches;
"I'm sure I didn't want to talk to Mrs. Grant at all, but seeing her was
the greatest surprise; I never dreamt of meeting her here, and, of
course, I had to speak a civil word, or she would have thought it so
strange."
"My dear fellow," retorted Ferrars, "what on earth did that matter? I
should have thought you would understand that Mrs. Darcy is the person
to make yourself agreeable to here, not Mrs. Grant, who is only a
clergyman's widow. I suppose, as you knew her before, that she lived
down at that precious dull place in the country, where you took your
wife from."
"Yes, she did," answered Mr. Yates; "but there's a good deal more in it
than that--not through her. Do you mean to say that sister of hers is
really here, going about in Bath?"
"Of course she goes about; why shouldn't she?" demanded Ferrars. "Is
there anything against it? The women are all down on her, I know--you
should hear my wife and sister--but only because she's such a devilish
pretty girl and proud; she won't have any friends but the Darcys."
"But do you actually not know? Have you never heard all about her and
her brother? Between the two of them they managed to lead my wife's
family a pretty dance. Neither of them can ever show their faces in
Mansfield again, so it was a lucky thing the Grants moved when they did.
To think of meeting Miss Crawford again! I shall tell her that Edmund
Bertram is uncommonly well and prosperous, and Tom Bertram isn't married
yet; and you see how she looks when I do it."
This amiable intention was frustrated, as Elizabeth, who could readily
see that Mrs. Grant was disturbed by what had happened, did not need
even the hint dropped by her that she hoped Mary would not meet Mr.
Yates, as he was connected with the Bertrams, and all that part of her
life that it was painful to her to remember, in order to make her strive
in every way to protect Mary from any disagreeableness. They went to the
tea-room, whither Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mary had, fortunately,
preceded them some time before Mr. Yates's appearance. They were there
joined by Darcy, and all five formed a happily conversing group. Mrs.
Grant whispered a word to her sister, whose countenance changed for a
moment; but she shook off the cloud and gave herself up to the delight
of the present. Once Elizabeth received a message from her aunt
requesting her to "make Miss Crawford play now," and she escorted her
friend back to the music-room and did not leave her after the
performance until she saw Colonel Fitzwilliam safely stationed beside
her. No command to play a second time followed, rather to Elizabeth's
surprise, but having a number of friends to take leave of, she could not
give it much thought before her own departure, which her husband had
insisted should be an early one, in view of the journey on the following
day.
Mr. Yates did not, in fact, come near any of this little party during
the rest of the evening, but might have been observed conversing
earnestly in a quiet part of the room with Lucy Ferrars and her sister,
who, judging by their rapt attention and animated countenances, found
what Mr. Yates had to say deeply interesting; so much so, in fact, that
when his narration was finished the two young women, having faithfully
promised to repeat no word of what he had told them, took the first
opportunity of slipping away unostentatiously in the direction of their
hostess; and having drawn her aside, with a hint of having something
very important to communicate, poured into her ears that whole story
just heard, a story which, as may be imagined, lost nothing in their
version of it. Lady Catherine was so exceedingly angry that her
instantly expressed desire was to have both Mr. Yates and Miss
Crawford--the latter being, of course, the heroine of his tale--brought
before her, with some confused idea in her mind of proving to the world
at large that her dislike of Mary Crawford had all the time been well
founded; but Lucy's extreme terror of the consequences of this act and
her part in it, while Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were there to protect their
friend, caused her to implore Lady Catherine to suspend pronouncing
judgment till the following day. There would still be plenty of
opportunities of meeting Miss Crawford, Lucy assured her patroness. Lady
Catherine would make no promises. Only the necessity of attending to her
other guests, she replied, delayed her from informing Miss Crawford of
her strong disapproval. She would not appear to condone such conduct as
Miss Crawford's had been one moment longer than she could help. Lucy and
her sister thought it safest to mingle inconspicuously with the crowd
until the storm should break over some other heads.
Meantime, Elizabeth and her husband had made their farewells to most of
their friends, and were exchanging a few last words with Mrs. Grant and
Mary. The latter looked unusually lovely, and an expression of quiet
happiness illumined her countenance. Colonel Fitzwilliam did not allow
himself yet to adopt the easy manner of an intimate friend, but the
earnestness of his glance towards Mary, the eagerness with which he
obeyed her slightest request, betrayed the state of his feelings, and
his air and manner were those of a man whose thoughts are wholly
pleasant.
"I am so sorry that this is really good-bye," Elizabeth was saying, "but
I am consoled by thinking it is only for a little while. You will keep
your promise and come to us this summer, will you not?" Mary Crawford
and her sister repeated a cordial acceptance, and the former added: "You
must tell us exactly how to come, Mrs. Darcy, you must explain all the
intricacies of travelling between Brighton and Derbyshire, or we shall
undoubtedly be lost on the road."
"Brighton! Shall you come from there?" and it was explained that the
ladies generally spent the months of June and July at some seaside
place, and Brighton had been thought of for this year. "Or we may be in
London with my brother," continued Mary, "but wherever we are, if you
remember to ask us, we shall come."
The usual protestations of the impossibility of forgetting followed, and
very warm handshakes were exchanged; then Elizabeth, turning to her
cousin, said: "Are you coming home now, Robert? It will be most
unfriendly of you not to, for how else shall we see you again, since you
positively decline to go with us to-morrow?"
Colonel Fitzwilliam hesitated, and said he had not thought of going home
just yet; but Mary interrupted him by saying: "Pray don't let us keep
you, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I am sure our coach will be there now, if you
would kindly inquire. Colonel Fitzwilliam was so kind as to wish to put
us into our coach," she added to Elizabeth, "but it would not be worth
while, just for that, to prevent him from driving home with you and Mr.
Darcy."
"I will go and see, certainly," said the Colonel, moving off; "but
don't wait for me, Elizabeth. I would just as soon walk back, and I will
see you and Darcy at breakfast."
Darcy drew his wife's arm within his, and they made their way to Lady
Catherine, who was sitting very upright in an armchair and wearing her
most stern and forbidding expression. To Elizabeth's civilly-worded
thanks for all the kindness and pleasure which their aunt had bestowed
on her relatives during their stay, she made no reply; but when
Elizabeth referred to their departure on the morrow, she started, placed
her hand coldly within her niece's for a moment, and said: "Yes, you are
going, I recollect. You did not consult me in the matter, but still,
perhaps this year it is as well you are not staying longer."
Elizabeth was too well accustomed to her aunt's insolent speeches to
seek to account for them, and turned away; while Darcy, remarking, "Yes,
we have stayed as long as we care to for this year," also shook hands
with his aunt, cutting her rather short in the midst of a statement that
she could send no message to Georgiana, and without further delay
escorted his wife downstairs.
Mary Crawford watched them from the room, and then said to Mrs. Grant:
"Let us go and say good-night also, Frances. We may as well be
ready--and there will be the harp to be carried down."
"Very well, my dear," returned her sister. "We shall have to take our
turn, for everyone else seems to be preparing to leave at once."
They approached Lady Catherine, and when after a few minutes they
reached her side, to their surprise she addressed them in a more stiff
and stately manner than usual. "Ah! Miss Crawford! I was awaiting you.
Will you kindly come this way?" And she preceded them towards a small
library, where card-tables had been placed, but which was now deserted.
Mary was not the least apprehensive of harm, and even whispered
mischievously to her sister: "Perhaps she is going to present me with a
fee!" so that her astonishment was unbounded when Lady Catherine, having
closed the door, turned to her and exclaimed in a voice shrill with
anger, which she did not attempt to control: "As this is probably the
last time we shall meet, Miss Crawford, you will allow me to inform you
that I have been entirely under a misapprehension in inviting you to my
house, and that I very much regret having done so." The two sisters
gazed at her, both silent from surprise, and Lady Catherine made haste
to continue: "I see you are on the point of asking me what reason I have
for coming to this conclusion. I do not care to enter into particulars;
it must be sufficient for you that facts have come to my
knowledge--facts which, if you search your memory, will no doubt--"
Mary had by now found words, and she broke into Lady Catherine's speech
in a voice that distress and wounded dignity caused to tremble: "I was
not on the point of asking you why you propose to forbid me your house.
In that matter my decision had anticipated your wishes. But I have a
right to ask the meaning of this insult; even your ladyship will hardly
refuse to inform me of what and by whom I am accused."
Lady Catherine drew herself up still further, and said: "I repeat that I
do not care to enter into particulars. I have no wish to say anything
that may be injurious to you in your future life. The facts which have
come to my knowledge are facts which you must be well aware are damaging
to yourself and any member of your family--only in a lesser degree to
you, Mrs. Grant. I shall repeat them to no one. I only wish you to
understand our acquaintance is henceforth at an end."
Mary scarcely heard the last words; she had turned to her sister, who
seemed quite overwhelmed and could only say, almost indistinguishably:
"That dreadful Mr. Yates! I feared--I feared--"
"Frances, dear Frances, do not give way, I implore you. Do not let her
make you unhappy. What does it matter about Mr. Yates? The truth cannot
harm either of us." Then, confronting Lady Catherine once more, with
head proudly thrown back, she demanded: "Now, madam, in justice to my
sister, if not to me, will you kindly state what Mr. Yates has told
you?"
Lady Catherine, who had expected a shamefaced attitude, was unprepared
for this counter-attack, and replied after some hesitation: "It is
evident that you know Mr. Yates has something to tell."
"Certainly, we know exactly what Mr. Yates knows," retorted Mary with
spirit, "but what he may have told your ladyship is quite another
matter. Will you tell us, or are you disposed to wait for the presence
of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy? A message from us would cause them to postpone
their journey to-morrow."
The taunt was a well-judged one; Lady Catherine felt its truth, and
anxious not to involve herself more deeply, she exclaimed: "Mr. Yates
has not spoken on the subject to me; it is sufficient for me that he has
told others, upon whom I can rely, the whole story of your brother's
disgraced connection with that married woman, with whose dishonoured
name I will not sully my lips--is that the true, or is it not? You say
the truth can do you no harm."
"The fact is true," replied Mary, who had grown very white.
"Oh, Mary, Mary!" exclaimed Mrs. Grant, "let us come away now that we
know the worst."
"No," answered Mary, who was retaining her calmness by a great effort,
"we will not deprive Lady Catherine of the pleasure of telling all she
has heard."
"And you express no contrition, you shameless, you bad-hearted girl?"
broke out Lady Catherine, giving rein to her anger. "You think it can do
you no harm to have all known of that shocking affair, which alone
should make you shun the society of respectable persons, but beyond and
above all that, there are your own intrigues with the two brothers of
that wretched woman, one of whom you enticed away from the girl to whom
he was attached, and your own flirtations here, which I will not enter
into, but which I have watched taking place under my very eyes--"
"That will do, I think," said Mary, raising her hand. "You can have
nothing further to say. You have insulted us in every possible manner. I
only hope, Lady Catherine, that by this outrage you will consider
yourself to have taken ample revenge."
"How dare you speak so to my poor sister?" demanded Mrs. Grant, wrath at
last overmastering her distress. "If you only knew the real truth of the
matter--if you only knew who had suffered and who was to be blamed!--God
forgive you your wicked thoughts and your poisonous tongue!"
"Hush, hush, Frances!" interposed Mary, drawing her sister away. "Do not
try to convince her. She is not worth it," and the two sisters left the
room and walked with fairly firm steps downstairs, where they procured
their cloaks, and Mrs. Grant was able, by drawing down her hood, to
conceal the traces of her emotion. Mary directed a servant to bring her
instrument downstairs, and they awaited it within the cloak-room. A few
minutes later the servant knocked at the door, asking for Miss
Crawford, and both ladies hastened forward, expecting the announcement
of their coach, but Mary drew back on encountering the pale and anxious
gaze of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and hearing his eager words: "I feared I
had missed you--that you had gone--I searched for you through the
rooms--and then I heard you were with my aunt. Is anything the matter,
dear Miss Crawford? I fear there is something."
"It is of no consequence, thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam," she replied,
speaking with cold pride. "You are come a little too late to be of any
assistance. I see the footman has brought my harp, so if you will kindly
allow us to leave the house, that is the most you can do."
"I implore you not to speak so, dearest Miss Crawford," he exclaimed,
though keeping his voice low on account of the persons standing round.
"Is there nothing I can do, nothing I can put right? I could, I am sure,
if only I knew what had happened."
"Lady Catherine can best inform you of that," returned Mary in icy tones.
"May I again request that you will ask for our carriage?"
"One moment only, and I will not detain you," he said hurriedly. "May I
call on you to-morrow, at an early hour? Pray give me permission."
"I shall not be at home to-morrow," answered Mary, and swept proudly
past him towards the front door, where a footman had just announced:
"Mrs. Grant's carriage stops the way."
"Mrs. Grant!" exclaimed Colonel Fitzwilliam, placing himself beside that
lady as she followed her sister, "you will allow me to come and see you?
I will not torment your sister, but--you will not close your door on me
without at least explaining the reason for this dreadful change?"
"Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam!" exclaimed Mrs. Grant, with difficulty
controlling her agitation, "if you knew all, you would not expect me to
receive you; but I cannot altogether refuse, only I must have time to
reflect, to consider--and my sister must be my first care."
He could only bow and acquiesce; and he assisted her into the carriage,
which immediately rolled away.