Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the
place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he
had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that
longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of
her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he
contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew
her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not
free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so
brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the
state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise
more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the
appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into
channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was
forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without
any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to
Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but
that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without
her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which
was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day
only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The
manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr.
Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the
chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of
greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's
approval.
He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and
had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few
days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in
Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the
severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated
so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over
their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had
concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any
further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations,
a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a
tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two
ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and
confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any
awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was
readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball.
"It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you
so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin,
smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?"
"Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice
which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a
beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a
great number."
"Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin.
"Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners
who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really
important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and
Mr. Dixon; who else?"
"Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr.
Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too
frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but
I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he
knew you at Bath."
Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking
of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention
it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his
first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name.
Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her
cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in
his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but
not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more
agreeable man away from the companions he then had."
"I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana,
falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting
talker."
"Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can
certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without
bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana;
what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will
Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully
fine morning?"
Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired
themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on
their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during
the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private
affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful
thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she
found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly
be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath
now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she
had no right to wish to know, and yet she did wish she knew whether that
had anything to do with Cousin Robert's looking so sad and worn.
Stay--that letter of Lady Catherine's which her brother had read
aloud--a lady in Bath, a friend of Elizabeth's--a
misunderstanding--Georgiana felt for one instant, with a thrill of fear
and excitement, as though she had laid hold of the thread; and was
almost glad when the stopping of the carriage obliged her to let it go,
by scattering her thoughts and her bringing her back to the present
moment. She reproached herself for prying into others' secrets, and
pressing close to Mrs. Annesley's side, she eagerly responded to that
lady's eulogies of the beautiful scene around them. The gardens were
indeed looking their best in the glory of their June array, and crowds
of well-dressed persons strolling gaily about added to the general sense
of brilliancy and festivity.
They had taken a few turns, and Fitzwilliam had greeted several of his
acquaintances, while Georgiana was beginning to think that she, too,
might see someone she knew, when her attention was arrested by some
comments of Mrs. Annesley's, made in a low voice, on the singular beauty
of a young lady who was approaching them, escorted by two gentlemen. The
lady was dark and extremely animated, and her fine eyes seemed to be
glancing in the direction of their party. As the two groups slowly
passed each other, Colonel Fitzwilliam's bow was acknowledged by the
lady and her friends, and she half paused, as if about to speak, but
passed on without doing so. Mrs. Annesley, seeing the recognition, made
a laughing apology to her companion. "I beg your pardon, Colonel
Fitzwilliam, I did not know you knew that lady, but really, she is such
a lovely creature that one cannot help remarking on it."
"I am quite of your opinion Mrs. Annesley," returned the Colonel, and
Georgiana saw that though he endeavoured to speak lightly something had
happened which necessitated the exercise of a degree of self-command.
"It is very obliging of you to voice sentiments which I am always
wanting to put into words when I meet Miss Crawford. Although no words
can exactly describe her special charm."
"It is her expression, is it not?" said Mrs. Annesley, "so full of
changing life and brightness, and that vivid complexion, and graceful
carriage of the head. All that one can see at a glance. And I imagine we
are not in the minority in admiring her."
"No, indeed," said Fitzwilliam, "she holds quite a little court."
He was interrupted by a gentleman who detained him for a moment, and the
ladies walked on, Georgiana's mind full of tumultuous thoughts. She had
recollected the name Crawford in a moment as being that of Elizabeth's
friend to whom Lady Catherine had behaved so unkindly, but she did not
like to admit her knowledge, for fear it might be painful to her cousin
to have the whole chain of circumstances discussed. What they were,
Georgiana could not help longing to know, but the only one that was
quite clear to her was her cousin's deep admiration for this lady. Her
heart went out in sympathy to him, both for his attachment and for the
difficulties in his way, if difficulties there were. Did Miss Crawford
perhaps not care for him? Yet she had looked as if she wanted to speak.
Were there friends or relations influencing her? He had alluded to "a
little court." But how could anyone separate Miss Crawford from Colonel
Fitzwilliam, if she really loved him, he so noble, so kind, so true?
Georgiana blushed deeply at her thoughts, perceiving the rapid pace at
which they had led her on, and the somewhat inconsistent conclusion that
they had reached, but their very sincerity reassured her, in the
knowledge that her own love for Colonel Fitzwilliam was the sisterly
love that longed to see him happily and suitably united. No idea crossed
her mind of helping towards this end; she had too lowly an opinion of
her own powers as a force in other persons' lives; her only wish was for
an opportunity of showing her sympathy towards her cousin in some
practical form. In vain she tried to plan how this might be done, for
she could not speak of it until he had opened his heart to her, a most
unlikely thing to happen, and not at all could it be mentioned before
Mrs. Annesley.
Fortune seemed to favour her, for when Colonel Fitzwilliam rejoined
them, Mrs. Annesley confessed that she felt a little tired, the heat was
so great, and she would like to rest a while. "But do not come with me,"
she added, as Fitzwilliam instantly proposed moving towards the chairs,
"if you are not tired yet, it is much more amusing for you and Georgiana
to walk about, and probably you would like to go nearer to the music. I
will go and sit by my friend Mrs. Sackville, whom I see over there,
until you are ready."
The cousins accordingly found themselves together, and Georgiana, hardly
knowing how to begin, but feeling no time was to be lost, broke silence
again after a few minutes by saying timidly: "I think I have heard
Elizabeth speak of Miss Crawford; you all knew her in Bath, did
you not?"
"Have you indeed? That is good," exclaimed Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I had
forgotten that you would know her name. Yes, we all met in Bath." He
seemed about to say more, but after a pause concluded with: "Ask
Elizabeth to tell you about her."
Georgiana was disappointed, but told herself that she could not have
expected anything else. How could he make a confidant of her, who had
shown herself unworthy of any trust.
They walked on for some little distance, until Fitzwilliam, observing
two vacant seats in a group of chairs, placed close to the edge of the
grass, asked Georgiana if she would like to sit down for a little before
turning back. It was a charming spot, in the shade of a tree and
immediately facing a large sheet of artificial water, and Georgiana
willingly assented, remarking: "How fortunate that we should be able to
get two chairs. They seem to be nearly all occupied."
"It is generally so; people come and sit here the whole morning when it
is so fine and warm," returned Fitzwilliam, placing himself at her side,
but not resuming their conversation of a few moments before. Georgiana
was not content to be silent, and her cousin was wrapped in thoughts of
Miss Crawford and did not dream of the anxious solicitude for him in
Georgiana's heart. The other man in Mary's party, he reflected, must be
her brother, Henry Crawford; there was a slight resemblance; besides, he
answered to the description Mary had given of him. How well he
remembered her laughing looks and tones as she uttered it: "Henry is not
tall, Colonel Fitzwilliam, no, I allow him every other imaginable
beauty, but he is not tall; thin, dark, rather plain; of course, to me,
singularly handsome; did I not say so? Do you think you would recognize
him if you saw him?" And the Colonel did see him now, for the second
time, a few steps away, approaching with his sister, who walked between
him and Sir Walter Elliot, as before.
Mary glanced towards Miss Darcy, and in an instant the Colonel was at
her side. "How do you do, Miss Crawford? I was sorry to miss you the
other morning when I called. Would you allow me to present to you my
cousin, Miss Darcy? She has heard of you from her brother and sister."
Mary coloured deeply as she returned his salutation, but immediately
complied with his request, pausing only to say to her brother in a low
voice: "Henry, please walk on; do not wait for me." To Georgiana it was
such a surprise and delight to see Miss Crawford being brought towards
her, and to find a wish granted which she had scarcely dared to
formulate, that instead of being exceedingly shy, as she would
ordinarily have been, she forgot to think of herself, and rising and
looking into Miss Crawford's lovely and expressive face, she entered
fully into what she believed her cousin to be feeling towards its owner.
In reality the shyness was on Mary's side, for she could not help in
seeing in Colonel Fitzwilliam's action another proof of the generosity
and devotion of the friend whom she had exiled from her. A few words
passed between them all three about the beauty of the day and their
surroundings, then Miss Crawford, turning to Georgiana, inquired after
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. This was a subject to unloose Georgiana's tongue and
drew forth animated replies, and Mary, still addressing her, made a few
civil inquiries about her journey to town and the probable duration of
her visit. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam who presently begged Miss Crawford
to take his seat, which, after a slight demur, no other chair being
within sight, she consented to do. He remained standing near them for a
few moments, and then moved a little distance, thinking they might be
able to talk more comfortably if left to themselves.
"You are staying with your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?" asked Miss
Crawford, when he was out of earshot.
"No," replied Georgiana, "my aunt is not in town. For the moment I am
with my old governess, Mrs. Annesley, but I am really on a visit to some
other friends, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley."
"I see; and your cousin is with you there just now?" Mary pursued.
"Oh, no, no, no," said Georgiana, smiling, "no, he has been living in
town by himself for some time. You have not happened to meet him since
you were in London?"
Mary answered that she had met Colonel Fitzwilliam once or twice, but
murmured something about thinking he and the Darcys were all like one
family. Georgiana assented to this.
"He is indeed like one of ourselves; my brother and sister are devoted
to him, and he is the oldest friend I have," she replied. "After my own
brother, he is the kindest and best person I have ever met. People do
not know for a long time how good he is, because he is so modest and
retiring."
Georgiana was conscious that she was perhaps transgressing the bounds of
good taste in this vehement praise; but she did not care what Miss
Crawford thought of her, so long as she would think well of her cousin.
At all events it appeared that Miss Crawford was not offended, for she
smiled faintly and said: "He is fortunate in having you and Mrs. Darcy
for his advocates."
"It is just the same," said Georgiana eagerly, "with whoever speaks of
him. His friends are all devoted to him, and he is so staunch to them,
whatever they do; he never changes, or fails them when they want him."
"I think I know one who would not fail _him_, Miss Darcy," said Miss
Crawford, still smiling; "but, indeed," she added, as Georgiana turned
away her head, "I am sure you are quite right in all you say. Who should
know Colonel Fitzwilliam well, if not his old friends? And I know myself
that he is even loyal to them when he is angry with them, which is the
great test."
Georgiana could heartily agree, though without understanding Mary's
allusion. Their talk drifted to other subjects, in the midst of which
the Colonel returned and tried to interest Miss Crawford in some such
plan as he had suggested to her sister. Mary said "it was kind of him,"
"it would be pleasant," without pledging herself to anything; and
replied, "Pray do," when he asked if he might call to talk it over; but
it appeared that she and her sister were so full of engagements that it
was doubtful if they would be at home any morning before the end of that
week. By this time she had risen, and appeared anxious to return to her
friends. Mr. Crawford, indeed, was seen approaching, so Colonel
Fitzwilliam could only bow his adieux, while promising himself the
pleasure of calling early in the following week, for though he would
have liked to make Henry Crawford's acquaintance for himself, he did not
wish to be responsible for introducing him to Georgiana. She, on her
part, only perceived that Miss Crawford was taking leave, and she
pressed the hand that her new friend extended to her, saying in a low
voice: "It has been such a pleasure--I hope I shall see you again."
"Indeed, I hope we may meet; I should like it," responded Mary
cordially. "You go about so much that I have no doubt we shall. Pray
remember me to your sister and Mr. Darcy."
Georgiana promised, and turned away with Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she
ventured to say to her companion nothing more than a few shy words of
appreciation of Miss Crawford's beauty and charm.
"I am so glad you like her," he replied. "I thought that you would,
though it never occurred to me that we were likely to meet her here.
Elizabeth talked of inviting her to Pemberley, and I hope some day she
will. If we can get up a water party, Georgiana, you must come to it. Do
you think you could persuade Mrs. Annesley to bring you?"
"Indeed I am sure I could, if I am still with her. But I go back to
Grosvenor Street on Saturday afternoon, you know."
"Well, we must contrive it somehow; I doubt if Miss Bingley would care
much for such simple pleasures."
Georgiana laughed, regarding a river party as a very distinguished and
elaborate form of entertainment. Their progress towards Mrs. Annesley
was slow, as Colonel Fitzwilliam was frequently accosted by some friend
or other, one of whom stopped him to call out: "Do not forget that you
are going with us to see Siddons in _Macbeth_ on Friday night."
"Are you, Cousin Robert? How I envy you!" said Georgiana, as they passed
on. "We have tickets to see her next week in _King John_; but I hear
Lady Macbeth is her finest part."
"I am ashamed to say that I have never witnessed any of her performances
as yet," replied Fitzwilliam; "I hardly know how I have missed them, but
it behooves me to make up for lost time. I shall come round on Saturday
morning and harrow your feelings with a description of the play."
"Do, please, and then I can write to Elizabeth about it. How much I
shall have to tell her this week; about my coming to this beautiful
place and meeting Miss Crawford."
Georgiana thought her cousin looked happier when they were driving home
than she had yet seen him look in London, and they discussed the details
of a plan to go to Hampton Court and dine there, which seemed to contain
all the elements of perfect bliss. Fitzwilliam was indeed experiencing
greater peace of mind than he had done since he parted from Mary in
Bath, though for what reason he could scarcely explain to himself. Her
manner had been merely that of courtesy, and had not contained a hint of
the old friendliness; and Sir Walter Elliot had been, as ever, at her
elbow. Yet Fitzwilliam felt that each interview he could obtain opened
the way towards her a little more, and he had resolved to press straight
onward, letting no such obstacles arise as he had formed an effectual
barrier between them in Bath, but, rather, making use of every incident
that occurred, such as Georgiana's accidental presence and the ensuing
introduction, to bring himself nearer to her.
He was keeping this object ever in view when he joined his friends at
the theatre a few evenings later, and in glancing round the house after
the first act, observed Miss Crawford with several other persons in a
box at some distance from him. He immediately began to consider the
possibility of going up to speak to her, although unacquainted with the
hostess, for Mrs. Grant was not there, and he conjectured that the party
were in the charge of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot, by the manner in which
that lady and gentleman rose to welcome a visitor who had just entered
the box. Fitzwilliam determined to obtain an introduction through some
friend, and for this purpose to go up to the box during the third
interval, which was the longest of the evening.
The second interval, however, was destined to produce something of a
disconcerting nature. Fitzwilliam was conversing with the wife of his
friend, General Stuart, whose guest he was, and learning from her the
names and other particulars of many of the persons present, for she had
long lived in London and had a wide acquaintance. She was reckoned to be
a lively companion, though the information she gave, and her manner of
imparting it were, the one so positive and the other so vigorous, that
her hearers were tempted frequently to forget, until after they had
assimilated it, that she might have spoken without the best authority.
She had chanced to notice the people in the Elliots' box, and she drew
Colonel Fitzwilliam's rather unwilling attention to them. He did not
wish to discuss, or hear discussed, the Crawfords or their friends, and
implied at once that several of them were known to him. Mrs. Stuart was
all interest, and inquired if it was that charming Miss Crawford that he
knew, and, if so, whether he could explain why it was that she was going
to marry that insufferable old coxcomb, Sir Walter Elliot. Colonel
Fitzwilliam replied, concealing his apprehension as best he could, that
he did not know that she was; he had never heard it.
"Then you are the only one in the population of London who has not heard
it, my dear Colonel. Why, where have you been, to be out of the way of
such a piece of news? At least fifty people have told me, and of course
all of them have it straight from the most reliable source. It is hard
to believe that such a beautiful creature should throw herself away like
that on a foolish, impecunious old fellow who is old enough to be her
father, and has nothing in the world but his title and his tailor to
recommend him. I cannot comprehend why girls do these things; one can
only suppose that she is tired of the single life and wants a suitable
settlement."
"I am almost sure there must be some mistake, Mrs. Stuart," interposed
Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I saw Miss Crawford the only lately, and
she--there was nothing said about her engagement." He stopped, feeling
how very lame such a refutation was, unsupported by any testimony.
"Nonsense, my dear sir. You have been living in your books, or you would
have heard of it. Do you see that short, stout young man over there? He
is a Mr. John Thorpe, and he was speaking of it at our house the other
evening, and asserted positively that he had heard it mentioned in Bath
months ago."
"I am quite certain that Miss Crawford was not engaged when she was in
Bath," was all Colonel Fitzwilliam would permit himself to say.
"Well, you are very uncivil, I must say; you had better obtain someone
else's assurance if you will not accept mine. Though anyone can see how
it has come about; naturally the Elliots have pushed it forward to the
utmost of their power. Sir Walter wants a pretty wife, and as he cannot
support one out of that vanished fortune of his, he must choose one who
has enough for both. And Miss Elliot would like to establish a
connection between the families for the sake of a certain Mr. Henry
Crawford, who is still unmarried--he is a rake, of course, but she does
not mind that. You know which he is?--the dark young man standing up at
the back of the box."
Colonel Fitzwilliam was so excessively disturbed and irritated by this
conversation, which he had endeavoured to check by saying: "You must be
quite satisfied now, Mrs. Stuart, with the answers you have provided to
your own question," that the rising of the curtain was a great relief;
he could sit silent, inattentive to the play, wrapped in his own anxious
thoughts. Mrs. Stuart's was certainly not the last word on this terribly
important matter, for he felt he must hear the facts from some other
quarter before he could credit them. The fine scene of Banquo's murder
was played, as far as he was concerned, to deaf ears, and his eyes
continually sought the box above, where he could just see Mary's white
cloak, and Sir Walter's fashionable attire always, it seemed, in
proximity to it. The instant the curtain fell again he rose from his
seat and made the best of his way towards the exit, but so many
gentlemen were leaving their seats at the same time that he found
himself in a crowd where it was impossible to progress at any great rate
of speed. At this moment he heard his name pronounced behind him, and
looking round, he recognized two friends, former brother officers of his
own, who had remained seated near the end of one of the rows.
Impatient of the delay, he nevertheless went to them and remained a few
minutes in talk, finding that one of his friends, Captain Ross, was
lame and had difficulty moving along the narrow gangways. They were
presently joined by a Mr. Palmer, whom Fitzwilliam knew as a man of few
words, reserved, and of almost unamiable temper, but thoroughly
trustworthy, and too little interested in his neighbours' affairs to be
possessed of any superfluous knowledge concerning them.
Fitzwilliam had a slight acquaintance with him, and after a little
consideration he asked him, as if casually: "Do you know anything of Sir
Walter Elliot, Palmer?"
"As much as I want to," was the reply. "A stupid fellow. If he were
framed and glazed he would be a good deal more useful than he now is, I
consider."
Captain Ross laughingly agreed with him, claiming some knowledge of Sir
Walter Elliot himself, and calling on his hearers to witness the
inequality of human justice, when such a man as that could find a young
and charming wife.
"Is it true then," asked Fitzwilliam, summoning all his fortitude, "that
Sir Walter Elliot is going to be married?"
"Perfectly true," rejoined Captain Ross and his companion, "and you know
to whom--that lady in the box with him now."
Colonel Fitzwilliam had no need to look; it was enough to know that the
worst he dreaded was about to befall. His friends seemed to notice
nothing in his agitated manner of asking "Are you sure?" in such haste
were they to pour out their information.
"Yes, it has been talked of for a long time, but is quite settled now. I
was in the club last night when Elliot was having supper there, and he
told us all to drink to his health to-day, for he would be the happiest
man in the world. So that party up there is doubtless celebrating the
betrothal."
"Besides, do you not recollect," added Captain Ross, "that when I met
Miss Elliot the other night she told me her father would probably have
some legal business to arrange, when Mr. Crawford returned from Paris,
and then, she hoped, would come the announcement of a happy event?
Crawford is there now, you see."
"The legal business in this case may include a settlement to be made on
Elliot himself," laughed the other officer. "Can you understand people
advertising their affairs so freely beforehand? He must have had reason
to feel pretty confident. Well, I shall always think it a great shame.
Miss Crawford is much too good for him, but it is not the first time she
has played with a man in this way, and now, I suppose she finds herself
too much involved to draw back, or Elliot has been sharp enough to make
sure of her, unlike that dilatory young Bertram."
"Why, yes, besides being presumably a better bargain than a mere country
parson," added Captain Ross. "I imagine they will live at Kellynch. When
I last saw Wentworth he told me his sister, the tenant, was just
leaving."
Fitzwilliam felt as if he could not bear more of this, but, making a
great effort, he turned once more to Mr. Palmer and asked if he thought
the rumour to be true. Mr. Palmer looked at him in some surprise.
"Yes, certainly, why not? There is not the slightest reason to doubt it.
We have the evidence of our eyes and the word of one of the principal
parties. My wife and her mother are going to call to-morrow and offer
their congratulations."
Colonel Fitzwilliam hardly knew how he got away, what his three friends
thought of him, or what General Stuart, whom he had met outside the
lobby, could comprehend of his excuses for his abrupt departure. He only
knew that he could not return to his place, watching the woman who
possessed his whole heart in the company of the lover to whom she had
promised herself. He must be alone, in the darkness and silence, to
brace himself to endure the shock of what he had heard and realize all
that would follow from it. He hastened through the streets, and shut
himself up in his rooms, conscious only that this was a defeat, not a
mere repulse such as he had received at Bath, but a defeat the
completeness and finality of which admitted no rally on the losing side.
Long he paced his room, struggling to fight down the anguish of his mind
and to see clearly through his utter wretchedness what had happened and
how. Even in the midst of his sufferings it was not difficult for him to
piece together all the items of his knowledge into a connected whole.
She had wearied of him at Bath; that must have been the beginning of it;
he had not been able to gain her affection in a sufficient degree for it
to be proof against Lady Catherine's attack. That catastrophe had swept
him, equally with his cousins, away from whatever place he had held in
Mary Crawford's esteem; and when he met her again in London, and could
resume his efforts to recover that place, it was already occupied.
Was that, then, why she had seemed not to wish to be too
friendly--because it was too late? He was forced to believe it; he could
indeed easily believe anything that was a proof against her
consideration, her goodness of heart, that had endeavoured to save him
pain. He could and did believe that he had failed to win her, but that
she could have accepted Sir Walter Elliot left him for many hours
stunned and incredulous. That she, with her many gifts of mind and body,
her true elegance, her sensibility, her refinement of breeding, placing
her in almost a different world from the vulgar pretentiousness of Sir
Walter and his daughter, which in Bath had so often seemed uncongenial
to her, should now actually find such a man all-sufficient, and should
consent to join her life with his, was an outrage, a madness--all the
more so if she had drifted into it in the way the onlookers imagined.
She could not know what she was doing. Her friends--what were they
about? She must be warned. Fitzwilliam impulsively strode to the door,
then stopped and flung himself down with a bitter laugh at his own
folly--he to be raging through all the commonplace jealousies of a
rejected lover, like any boy of nineteen! What could he or anyone else
do? Miss Crawford was perfectly free to choose; she had a brother, with
whose knowledge she was probably acting, and there was nothing to be
alleged against Sir Walter Elliot's character. Recollecting the comments
he had heard that evening, Fitzwilliam was forced to the same
conclusions; to acknowledging that Miss Elliot, Mary's own friend, had
in all probability promoted the match; that Henry Crawford, weak and
unstable where women's persuasions were concerned, had allowed himself
to be drawn into the Elliot net, and that his sister, though she could
have little real regard for Sir Walter, wished to settle down and, her
fortune making her independent of means in her future husband, had
chosen where her fancy and a title attracted her.
How mean, how sordid was the whole story! Not the least heartrending of
Colonel Fitzwilliam's reflections that night was that it could not be
his Mary, the true Mary who had shown herself to him for a short time,
who was now taking this step, so unworthy of her best self. For the
woman he knew her to be, what happiness could be in store?