The Darcys travelled slowly, and they had not been at home for long
before a letter from their cousin, who had gone direct to London from
Bath, was received by Darcy. Colonel Fitzwilliam briefly related what
had occurred after their departure, his application to Ferrars and
Yates, with its more or less successful result, and his totally
unsuccessful visit to Mrs. Grant. He omitted, of course, all reference
to the second part of Yates's conversation with Lady Catherine, and
stated his few facts with the smallest amount of comment, adding that he
was grateful to his cousins for their kindness in the affair, but in the
circumstances he thought it would be better not to return to Pemberley
for the present, but to try to occupy his mind with some work. He had
therefore accepted an offer made to him by one of his brother officers,
to collaborate in writing a history of his regiment; and he proposed to
remain in London, where he would have access to manuscripts and
authorities. Darcy need have no fear that he would not correspond as
regularly as usual, and he would call in at the Hursts' while they
remained in town, so that he would be in continual touch with, as he
said in conclusion, "the best friends a man ever had." Elizabeth sighed
over this letter, but consoled herself presently with the thought that
Mrs. Grant and Miss Crawford might possibly be in town during the
summer. Darcy, on the other hand, was well satisfied with it, deeming
that his cousin had acted with perfect uprightness, and he begged
Elizabeth to give up the idea of trying to bring them all together at
some future time. "Fitzwilliam, my dear, is of an age when he can be
trusted to manage his own affairs, as this proves to us," he said to
her.
"I do not think it proves much, except that Aunt Catherine is the cruel
domineering old woman we always knew her to be," replied Elizabeth.
"Poor Robert! to think of his being so abominably treated! Of course a
true, honest man, as he is, was powerless among these insufferable
people, who have not a word of truth amongst them."
Elizabeth indeed felt acutely disappointed at such a disastrous and
unforeseen ending to her hopes. She blamed herself bitterly for her
share in the disaster, and again regretted having persuaded Miss
Crawford to come to the reception. She had written to Mary, according to
promise, at the first opportunity, but not for more than a week after
their return home was an answer received, and then it was a
disappointment, like all the rest; merely a note, brief and tremulous,
acknowledging Mrs. Darcy's kindness and apologies, begging that no more
might be said as to the offence, and breaking off with assurance of the
writer's good-will, but of her inability to express herself at greater
length. The only sign of the real Mary appeared in the postscript, "I
will write again by and by, dear Mrs. Darcy, if you will not mind very
stupid letters." The lines of the note clearly showed the writer's
shaken health, although her pride forbade her to make it her excuse.
Elizabeth was grieved, and felt herself, for the time being, repulsed;
she resolved to send, after a time, a cheerful letter on different
subjects which might re-establish their friendship on new ground, so
that the painful memories which Miss Crawford at present associated with
the Darcy family might by degrees be eradicated.
These anxieties occupying her thoughts, and her time being taken up with
her children and with Georgiana, who had returned to Pemberley in
greatly improved health and spirits, she still did not fail to remark
the absence of any news of Lady Catherine, for she had fully expected a
speedy communication announcing the lady's triumph over Miss Crawford
and ignoring all that had followed it. When her husband, therefore, in
opening a letter one morning, observed that it was from his aunt, she
was prepared for something considerably more disagreeable than its
contents proved to be.
The letter began by announcing Lady Catherine's recent return home with
her daughter, and the extreme pleasure of Mr. and Mrs. Collins, and of
all their neighbours, in seeing them again. The worthy Rector and his
wife had come up to Rosings to pay their respects on the very first
evening. Mrs. Jenkinson had not yet come back from her vacation; she had
in fact written to ask leave to stay for another week, which was
excessively inconvenient, as dear Anne depended upon her so much. Anne's
sensibility was indeed very great! She might not have inherited her
mother's strength of character, but she had such warm affections! They
sometimes led her to form attachments to people who proved unworthy of
such devotion. There had just been an unfortunate instance of that
during their stay at Bath.
Darcy, who had been reading the letter out loud to his wife and sister,
hesitated at this point, but Elizabeth urged him to go on, saying that
Georgiana knew all about the Ferrars, and was as anxious as herself to
learn whether their reign was over.
"You and Elizabeth have probably heard something of the regrettable
termination to my reception on your last evening in Bath. The young lady
whom Elizabeth was so obstinately anxious for me to patronize must have
acted at some former time with extreme imprudence, to say the least of
it, though I really do not feel it to be my duty to investigate the
rights and wrongs of the matter; still, the information I received was
so positive, that I was bound to act upon it, and to point out to her
that I regretted having brought her into my immediate circle of friends.
I think I may say that she, or, at any rate, her sister, admitted the
justice of my remarks. There I hoped the matter would have ended, but
immediately afterwards I learned that the very persons from whom I had
received this friendly warning about Miss Crawford had been themselves
acting towards me in a scandalously hypocritical and underhand manner.
You will guess that I refer to the Robert Ferrars and Miss Steele. I
cannot enter into particulars of their conduct; suffice it to say that
for all the latter part of their stay in Bath it has been a continual
course of deception, of nefarious and vulgar schemes for their own
aggrandizement. They have traded upon my kindness, and upon the warm
regard which my poor innocent-hearted Anne displayed towards Miss
Steele, to foster the most impudent designs. Never have I been so
mistaken in people whom I regarded as deserving of my interest, never
have I met with such vile ingratitude. You may imagine that I lost no
time in sending for the whole family and informing them that our
acquaintance was at an end, for the reasons I have given, and naturally
I declined to listen to any defence; Miss Steele was utterly confounded,
but Mrs. Ferrars, seeing that her whole plot was exposed, showed herself
in her true colours; she lost control of herself, and used expressions
more insolent than anyone has ever dared to do in my presence. Indeed,
she was so determined to be heard, that it was only by leaving the room
myself and sending my footman to show them out that I was able to rid
myself of their presence. The man is a mere weak fool; I could see that
by the way he ineffectually tried to control his wife, but even he
seemed to have no sense of the impropriety of her conduct and her
sister's.
"It is easily conjectured that after such a shock as this all enjoyment
in Bath for me was entirely at an end. We should have left immediately,
but that Anne was too unwell, on hearing what had happened, to travel
for another week. My indignation at the whole affair is still beyond
words."
Darcy paused, and Elizabeth asked: "Is that all the letter,
Fitzwilliam?"
"Yes," he replied, "that is, she signs her name there, but there is a
postscript which is evidently intended for your perusal."
Elizabeth took the letter which he handed to her, and read: "Were it not
that out of pure perversity Elizabeth always chooses to act exactly the
opposite to my advice, I should suggest that you proceed very cautiously
in any further dealings you may have with the young lady I mentioned
above." Elizabeth flushed deeply and laid down the letter, but
immediately took it up again and re-read Lady Catherine's version of the
Ferrars's defeat.
Meanwhile Georgiana was eagerly asking: "What does Aunt Catherine mean,
Darcy? She writes strangely, does she not? How can those people have
nefarious schemes or designs against her? She does not say how she knew
they had."
"I hardly understand it all," said Darcy, "but you know your aunt has
often been disappointed in people before, when they have desired more of
her favour than she was prepared to give."
"Yes, she takes great fancies, and then forgets about people," returned
Georgiana, "but she really seems to be dreadfully angry this time.
Elizabeth says that you and she did not like those people, the Ferrars."
"No, we did not, for we considered them undesirable," replied Darcy,
"and whatever reason your aunt has for quarreling with them, undoubtedly
it is well she should have done so."
Georgiana perceived that she was not to hear more about the Ferrars, and
dropped the subject, which, in fact, was what Darcy wished for. It was a
distasteful one to him, for they had aroused his dislike more than most
of his aunt's protégés, and he was glad to hear they had fallen from
favour, without being interested in the reason for it. Elizabeth was
quite aware of this, and accordingly refrained from any further
discussion of her aunt's letter with her husband. She could not forbear
a little private smile over the exposure of the "impudent designs," the
nature of which she had quickly surmised; in the circumstances she
thought they had hardly merited such severe strictures as those passed
on them by Lady Catherine, and but for Mrs. Ferrars's unpardonable
conduct towards Miss Crawford, Elizabeth might have spared her some
pity for the manner of her dismissal from Pulteney Street.
Georgiana took an early opportunity of asking Elizabeth about the
references to Miss Crawford. "That is your friend of whom you told me,
is it not, Elizabeth? I wonder what really happened, and why Aunt
Catherine speaks of her so harshly. It seems very unkind."
"It was very unkind, Georgiana. Of course Aunt Catherine was entirely
misinformed; she listened to some malicious gossip, and was terribly
rude to Miss Crawford at the end of the evening after we left. I heard
about it from Robert, who stayed later than we did. And the worst of it
is, that in consequence Miss Crawford feels deeply wounded, I fear, as
regards the whole family."
"Oh, I am so sorry. What a pity it is. Cannot anything be done? Surely
you will be able to put it all right again some time, will you not?"
"I hope so; yes, of course, I shall do whatever is possible: I should be
so extremely sorry to lose sight of her now."
"She must be charming, from all you say," commented Georgiana, and then
asked rather shyly and with a deep blush: "Did Cousin Robert like her
too?"
"Yes, he liked her very much, I think. You know, she played the harp,
and he is so fond of anything to do with music."
"Yes, I know," said Georgiana; and added, in a low voice: "I remember he
would always much rather have listened to my playing than have talked to
me."
"Do not let yourself grieve, Georgiana," said Elizabeth, kissing the
young girl's fair brow; "you know that Robert has the greatest possible
regard for you, and you will find, next time you meet, that you are the
best of friends."
Georgiana smiled rather sadly; she often felt that she must have not
only fallen in the estimation of a cousin she revered, but that she must
also be possessed of no qualities capable of inspiring affection, and
what was even worse, of no heart of her own to give. Elizabeth
understood her well, and tried often to give her more self-confidence
and to raise her lowly opinion of herself; but though she was growing
less reserved, and more disposed little by little to trust her own
judgments, the old habits of timidity, of reliance on the guidance of
those whom she loved, were still strong in her. Elizabeth would often
refuse to decide a thing for her, but when she was helped to weigh it in
the balance, to judge it by all the standards available, her choice
could always be recommended for discretion and clear-sightedness.
The month of May was now nearly half-way through, and the time was
approaching when James Morland was expected to pay a visit to his
friends at Pemberley. So much of their stay at Bath had been productive
of disappointment, that they looked back upon their acquaintance with
this young man as its one circumstance of unalloyed pleasure. Darcy,
whose regard for him had grown very warm, had received letters from home
which enabled him, prior to leaving Bath, to inform Morland that a
living in his gift would shortly be vacant, and that he would have the
pleasure in offering it to Morland when the time came. This important
communication had been received by the young clergyman with a depth of
joy and gratitude which had increased the Darcys' satisfaction in being
able to assist him. The living, though not a rich one, would suffice for
his needs, as he possessed some capital advanced by his father: and its
situation, in a hilly and bracing country district, made it most
desirable for a person whose health, like his own, had to be
considered. The conversation between himself and Darcy, which had been
very short, had taken place only the day before the latter's departure,
and Morland, still scarcely realizing his good fortune, had hurried
round to the hotel the following morning to repeat his acknowledgments
to both his friends and to make his adieux. There was time only for a
very few words to be exchanged at the house door, and Morland found it
difficult to express himself fluently on a subject which lay so near his
heart, but Elizabeth and her husband set him at his ease with a few kind
remarks, repeating cordially an invitation already given, that he come
and stay with them on the conclusion of his visit to the Portinscales.
Since their return home the resignation of the old Rector at Kympton,
the living in question, had been made public. He was to leave within a
few weeks; so that Morland's visit would afford him, as the
rector-designate, an opportunity of getting to know the place and of
meeting some of his future parishioners. Pemberley was not in the
parish, for Kympton was eighteen miles away, but the link between the
two places had always been strong, and the distance was frequently
bridged, for Desborough Park, the home of the Bingleys, was the
principal house in Kympton Parish, and only a mile and a half from the
parsonage house. Morland's pleasure was extreme on hearing that his
nearest neighbours would be the brother-in-law and favourite sister of
Mrs. Darcy. Next to being within a stone's throw of the Darcys
themselves, it was the best thing imaginable.
Morland arrived at Pemberley late one afternoon, just in time to prepare
for dinner, and was introduced to Miss Darcy when they all assembled in
the drawing-room before the meal. Georgiana's intense shyness generally
caused her to appear at a disadvantage with strangers, but there was
something in the young man's open countenance and pleasing, unaffected
manners that attracted everyone to him at first sight, and they were
soon chatting together completely at their ease. Morland was deeply
interested in everything that he could learn of his future home, and
asked eager questions of his hosts. Georgiana had been so lately staying
at Desborough, and had, while there, so frequently called on old Dr. and
Mrs. Taylor, that she was able to give more particulars of the house and
garden than her brother and sister were able to recollect. The evening
passed quickly away with conversation and music, and Morland learned
that on the following morning the whole party were to drive over to
Desborough Park to dinner, starting early that they might have time to
walk through the village and inspect the church and parsonage as well.
The weather proved propitious, and the drive, through some of the most
beautiful vales of Derbyshire, was agreeable to all, but especially
delightful to Morland, feeling as he did that he was within reach of the
goal he had so long desired--restored health and the power to do the
work he loved amid congenial surroundings. It was in vain that Darcy,
not wishing to raise his hopes too high, told him that the parish was
very scattered and the roads bad, that the climate was exceedingly cold
and the distant cottages were almost inaccessible in stormy weather,
that some of the farmers were people of a very independent way of
thinking, difficult to get on with--he could discover no drawback, only
fresh incentives to throw himself into his task. Elizabeth commended him
for his enthusiasm, but added a sly reminder that he might be
disappointed in the house; large, rambling and picturesque though it may
seem when tenanted by the Taylors and their seven children, it would,
she feared, be an inconvenient residence to a bachelor.
"It will be too big, I have no doubt," responded Morland, "but, you
know, I need not furnish more than a part of it. Besides, I intend, as
soon as I am thoroughly settled to have my sister Sarah to stay with me
if she can be spared from home."
Georgiana was interested in hearing of the sister, and James Morland at
her request gave an account of his home at Fullerton, and of his brother
and sisters, eight besides himself and Catherine, who was now Mrs. Henry
Tilney. Catherine was evidently the favourite--there was a smile and a
lightening of the eye when he spoke of her--he wished it had been
possible for her to come and help him with his settling-in, but they
lived such a great distance away--Woodston was forty miles away from
Bath, quite at the other end of Somerset.
Mr. Darcy's chaise and four rolled through the village of Kympton not
long after twelve o'clock, and paused to put down its owner, his sister
and his young guest. There was so much to see, but Georgiana was an
untiring walker, and intended staying with the gentlemen until the
carriage should be sent back to bring them to Desborough in time for an
early dinner. Elizabeth drove on for another two miles, and was
presently alighting at the door of a handsome modern house built in the
Italian style, and being warmly welcomed by Bingley and Jane, whom she
had not seen for some weeks.
Bingley, on hearing what had become of the rest of the party,
immediately decided to walk down to meet them; and the sisters strolled
into the garden, for the weather was remarkably warm and sunny for that
time of year, and they could venture to seat themselves upon a bench
that was sheltered by an angle of the house, whence a beautiful view was
obtained of the wide-spreading park, with its chestnut trees in full
bloom and clumps of pink and white hawthorns. Desborough was not so
imposing and extensive a place as Pemberley, but it was pleasant and
home-like, and the grounds were particularly delightful, including as
they did an orchard, a shrubbery, and lawns and flower-borders laid out
in a series of terraces which sloped towards the park. The Bingleys took
great pleasure in their garden, and had made many additions and
improvements during the two years of their occupancy.
"I am overjoyed that you are come, Lizzie," began Jane, "for I have so
much to tell and ask. I have not seen you since we brought Georgiana
home, nearly a month ago. You really think she is better?"
Elizabeth warmly assented, and declared that Georgiana seemed in greater
spirits than she had been for many months. Jane anxiously inquired after
Fitzwilliam, and Elizabeth made out as good an account of him as she
could, but as she was naturally not at liberty to mention what had
passed at Bath, she could not perfectly satisfy Jane as to his
well-being. Choosing a safer subject, she talked of Mr. Morland, praised
his modesty, ability and good sense, and repeated her conviction that
the Bingleys would find him a thoroughly agreeable neighbour. Jane
listened with interest and promised every kind of help and support to
the new Rector, who was to come with such strong recommendations; but
she was clearly a little preoccupied, and Elizabeth, seeing this, asked
what news she had to communicate.
"I am afraid it is not very good news," began Jane hesitatingly;
"but--you will have guessed it, I expect--I have had a letter from
Lydia. She is going abroad, Elizabeth, fancy, almost immediately! Poor
Lydia! Wickham's regiment is ordered to the West Indies, and he insists
on her going with him."
"I am not sure why it should be 'poor Lydia,'" returned Elizabeth,
smiling; "you have such a terribly compassionate heart, Jane! I should
think Lydia would like the West Indies very much, though she probably
dreads the voyage."
"Oh, no, she does not think she will like them at all; it is so hot
there, and she cannot bear the idea of being waited on by negro
servants. She says there is only one consolation, very few of the ladies
of the regiment are going; there will not be more than six of them, and
no one as young as herself."
"Since so many are staying behind, I should have thought she could have
arranged to do the same; though I confess I think it is much better she
should be with Wickham."
"Yes, you are right, I believe, Elizabeth; she says she would rather
have stayed in England, and that Wickham declares he does not
particularly want her, only he cannot afford to keep up an establishment
for her at home while he is abroad." Jane sighed. "It is very sad that
they talk like that to one another; I only hope they do not mean it."
Elizabeth preferred to waive this question, and continued: "I suppose
she goes on to ask you for money?"
Jane admitted that this was so, but said that Lydia would need a
suitable outfit for the West Indies, and everything of that kind was
very expensive, it appeared. She added that Lydia was anxious to come to
Derbyshire before she went away, if a remittance for the journey could
be sent, but Jane had not made any response to the suggestion.
"No, I do not think that that is at all necessary," Elizabeth remarked.
"Well, Jane, of course I will give you some bank-notes to send with your
own, on the usual condition that Lydia does not know from whom they
come; but I only wish one could believe that they will be used for
paying debts to the Newcastle tradespeople--of which there are sure to
be plenty. Could you not persuade her to give you a statement of what
she owes? You could then perhaps arrange for some of them to be paid off
first."
"I will try; I will ask Bingley about it; but it is very difficult to
help Lydia the way one would like. She does expect the most
extraordinary things! What do you think of her inviting Kitty to go to
the West Indies with her, my father, of course, paying all expenses?"
"I am past feeling any astonishment at Lydia's demands," Elizabeth said;
"but I hope Kitty had too much good sense even to think such a thing
possible."
"Oh, no, I think she knew it would not be allowed, though perhaps the
idea was tempting to her, poor Kitty! But she had her promised visit
here to plead as an excuse; she is coming, you know, towards the end of
next month."
"It has been arranged, then? I am so glad to hear it; she must come on
to Pemberley, and she and Georgiana will enjoy being together again."
"Yes, indeed; but I hope she will stay with me until the autumn. I
wanted her to have come a little earlier; but she has received an
invitation from some people called Knightley, in London, which she is
very desirous of accepting, and my father sees no objection."
"Yes, I know of whom you mean, I think; they are friend of my Uncle and
Aunt Gardiner's, and live in Brunswick Square."
"I fancy it is not those Knightleys, but relations of theirs; still, we
shall hear all about it very soon, for I am expecting a letter from
Kitty at any moment, to give me her direction in London and to tell me
when she will be ready to leave, for Bingley is to go to fetch her."
"Is Bingley going to town? Then I wonder if it could possibly be
arranged for him to escort Georgiana? Darcy had thought of going, but he
would be very glad not to, if Bingley would not find it any
inconvenience."
"I am sure Bingley would be delighted. She is going to the Hursts', is
she not? I have heard mention of it."
"Yes, Mrs. Hurst and Caroline have both written, begging for a long
visit from her. I do not think it can be for more than a month, as Aunt
Catherine is sure to want her to go on to Rosings when she hears she is
so near. Georgiana does not like being away from home for long, nor do
we like to spare her."
"I can quite understand that. She has such a sweet disposition, such
sympathy, and brightness and intelligence, that it is a joy to have her
companionship. And you have improved her so much, Elizabeth. At one time
I thought her very difficult to approach; but her manners have gained so
much ease and elegance that everyone must be charmed with her from the
first meeting. I often think Fitzwilliam must regret what he has lost."
"My dear Jane, let me assure you for the twentieth time that he does not
regret it, nor can he be said to have lost what he never possessed.
Their hearts were never united; but now you will see that each will
marry happily, and their old friendship will survive unimpaired. If you
had seen Fitzwilliam at Bath, you would have wasted no regrets on him.
Now, shall we walk about a little? I want to discover if your lilacs are
further advanced than ours."
Three o'clock brought back the remainder of the party, and Mr. Morland
was introduced to Mrs. Bingley, and found her a most sympathizing
listener to his enthusiasm over his new home. He was full of plans, and
was interested in everything, from the beautiful little church down to
the honeysuckle growing over the Rectory porch. Darcy had promised him
to have certain repairs and renovations made as soon as the Taylor
family should have quitted the house; and faulty chimneys and new
wallpapers formed topics for a kind of discussion which Bingley
thoroughly enjoyed, and he would have presented his young guest with the
contents of several rooms at Desborough, and the greater part of the
stables, if there had been the slightest chance of his accepting them.
There was not time to do more than begin on these important subjects
to-day, for by half-past four the visitors had to be in the carriage
again; but the proposal that Bingley should take Georgiana on her
journey to London was brought forward and approved of by all concerned.
Bingley was also going to his sister's house, and it was immaterial to
him what day he arrived there, or how long he had to wait in London for
Kitty Bennet. He thought he had heard something about a ball for which
Kitty wished to stay, but was uncertain about the date.
It was decided that their next letters from their relations in town
should determine the time of their departure.