Needless to say, Kitty was heartily welcomed by Georgiana and Elizabeth,
and given every opportunity to relieve her mind by descriptions of the
tragical affair in all its aspects. Both regretted it deeply for Mr.
Morland's sake, and Elizabeth privately did so for Kitty's sake, having
such a good opinion of him as to make her wish that Kitty could have
been persuaded out of her fancy for a young man, who, however excellent,
was comparatively a stranger to them all, and whose intentions, at
present, were extremely uncertain. She would have rejoiced if Kitty and
Morland could have made each other happy, and had entertained a slight
hope that her hint to Kitty might perhaps have helped matters, in
directing her thoughts into another channel, but it seemed to be of no
avail, and Georgiana gave her friend her warmest support, implying
entire agreement with her point of view. "I could not help it, now,
could I, Georgiana? You know yourself, Lizzie, that I never dreamt it.
How could I do anything else but refuse him outright? I was amazingly
grieved to do so, but you know very well, Georgiana, that if I could
think of one man more than another, _he_ is not that one." She paused
for assent, which Georgiana gave by a silent caress, and then continued:
"It is all so unfortunate. It will never be as pleasant at Desborough
now. Poor Mr. Morland! I wish I had not had to hurt him. He does want
someone so badly in the Rectory."
"Well, my dear, do not make yourself ill with these vain regrets," said
Elizabeth. "It is, as you say, very unfortunate, but no one blames you.
If you could not care for him, you could not do it, and someone else
will have to inhabit that nice Rectory."
Kitty looked as if this prospect were not very pleasing either, but
Georgiana, seeing what Elizabeth wished, began to talk cheerfully of
something else, and Kitty gradually joined in, though whenever the two
girls were alone together she found it difficult to abstain long from
referring to some branch of the subject.
Georgiana's loyalty and patience never failed, but she wished for
November almost as earnestly as Kitty herself, so that matters might
reach some definite conclusion, for Kitty's restlessness had
considerably increased since she had received James Morland's offer, and
she was constantly nervous and excitable and not mistress of herself. On
the day when the Bingleys and Mr. Bennet came over for the latter to
take leave before returning to Longbourn, this was specially noticeable
in her state of anxious flutter when drawing Jane aside to inquire after
Mr. Morland. Mr. Bennet bade her farewell gravely and more
affectionately than was his wont, telling her that he left her in good
hands, and would only give her one piece of advice, namely, that second
thoughts were sometimes best. Kitty blushed deeply and could not pretend
to misunderstand him, but told Georgiana afterwards that it was
impossible to have better second thoughts when Price was the first.
With his elder daughter Mr. Bennet was rather more explicit, telling
Elizabeth that he considered it was a great pity that so unobjectionable
a young man should have been sent about his business. Elizabeth entirely
agreed with him, and thought it would not be going too far to express
Mr. Morland's praise in even warmer terms.
"He will never set the Thames on fire, but there seems good stuff in
him," was Mr. Bennet's reply. "When he proposed for her I had not taken
much notice of him, except to think him a tolerably sensible fellow, and
of course I had to readjust my ideas; but I soon began to see that he
must not be judged by that alone. I have really liked him better, too,
for his way of taking his refusal."
"My dear father, it does not always indicate a want of sense to wish to
be married," interposed Elizabeth.
"Perhaps not, but Morland is much better off as he is than in marrying a
girl he knows so little about. Kitty is flighty and expensive; she ought
to stay longer with you and Jane, and not think of being married for the
next ten years."
Elizabeth smiled and said she thought that it was unnecessary, but that
it would certainly be better for Kitty to marry a clergyman than an
officer in the navy, who would be compelled to spend long periods away
from home.
"As to that, of course it is a complete absurdity, and I cannot think
why you women, who are so fond of making matches, did not originate
something less ridiculously unsuitable among yourselves."
Elizabeth thought it wiser not to explain who actually had originated
the idea, and said after a pause: "You were saying that you have liked
Mr. Morland better of late?"
"Yes, he has positively shown some sort of self-command and dignity. He
turned up at the house a day or two afterwards, apparently _not_ bent
on making us all uncomfortable by the sight of his misery, as most
rejected lovers do. Besides, Bingley had had the foresight to produce
some excellent port."
"I hear from Jane," said Elizabeth, "that he does not avoid or seek the
mention of Kitty, and she thinks he is trying to give up all hope of
her."
"Her absence for a few weeks will no doubt materially assist him," said
Mr. Bennet.
Kitty seized the opportunity offered by this visit to speak a private
word to her brother-in-law with reference to the hero, as Bingley
persisted in calling him. She herself had no news, for Mrs. Knightley's
frequent letters reported him still at Portsmouth, and Bingley had heard
nothing, but promised to write and renew his invitation as soon as
October was fairly in.
The same silence prevailed at Pemberley with regard to Miss Crawford. No
announcement of her marriage had reached any of them, and Elizabeth had
a half inclination to make some inquiries, but was dissuaded by Darcy,
who said: "Whatever precisely has happened, Elizabeth, we can be sure of
one thing, that Miss Crawford has allowed Fitzwilliam to understand that
she does not wish him to approach her again. Under these circumstances
it is better that you should have no news to give him."
Elizabeth sighed as she agreed to the wisdom of this decision, but when
shortly after her father's departure a letter was received from Colonel
Fitzwilliam to say he would be returning at the end of the month, she
could not help wishing that she was more fully informed of the present
state of affairs. It would be a relief, even though a sad one, to
Fitzwilliam's mind to know that Miss Crawford was actually married and
he would be unselfish enough to wish to hear that she was happy. Nothing
occurred, however, to enlighten them, and Fitzwilliam arrived on the
appointed day, looking much as usual except for a few more lines about
the eyes and an increased number of grey hairs.
It was the first time he and Georgiana had been together at Pemberley
since the rupture of their engagement, and both must have felt conscious
of it, Georgiana in particular being prepared to be miserable for a
time, from the belief that her cousin, instead of being cheered and
invigorated as formerly by his return home, must be reminded at every
turn of the failure of their experiment, the failure caused by her
wretched weakness and incapacity. Worse still, her brother must be
reminded of it, and there might be a repetition of his stern looks, his
cold manner. She trembled at the thought, unaware that Darcy had long
been persuaded of the wisdom of their parting, ever since events in Bath
had shown him where his cousin's real affections were likely to be
bestowed, and the only difference which Georgiana perceived after
Fitzwilliam's arrival was in the particular kindness he showed her, and
the complete renewal of the old comfortable relations amongst them all.
When inquiries after the Hursts and Mrs. Annesley had been made, and
Georgiana had mentioned the dinner-party and the persons who had been
present, little more was said with reference to London; indeed, there
was little more for either to say, for Georgiana dared not refer to the
person who had chiefly occupied his mind there. Fitzwilliam talked of
his book and of Ireland, inquired about the prospects of the shooting,
showed interest in the minutest details of life in the neighbourhood,
and in every way endeavoured to prove that he was exactly his old self;
and only when walking with Elizabeth in the Park one morning did he
betray how far that was from being the case.
There was no doubt that his disappointment had coloured his whole life.
He had allowed himself to think of Miss Crawford, and to build high upon
his hopes, and to find himself again mistaken had been a blow which cut
at the foundations of all his happiness. His gaiety was feigned, his
pursuits had lost their zest, his friends no longer sufficed him: and as
he said to Elizabeth, he had felt he had better adopt some country
occupation and settle down to it, and there grow old as quietly and
quickly as might be.
Elizabeth's heart was wrung; the spectacle of her cousin's fine nature
locked away, as it were, in a closed room, as a thing no one had any
need for, was inexpressively painful to her, and nothing else would have
caused her to venture upon a reopening of the subject which he himself
had not approached. With the utmost gentleness she spoke a few words of
commiseration, and then, still proceeding with extreme caution, she told
him of the absence of news and her assumption that Miss Crawford's
marriage with Sir Walter Elliot had been delayed.
"I daresay it has," returned Colonel Fitzwilliam, with a kind of
listlessness, striking with his stick at the head of some tall grasses
which bordered their path.
"There can be no doubt of it, I suppose?" pursued Elizabeth.
"None at all, I should imagine," replied the Colonel. "Miss Crawford is
not the kind of woman who would break her word, once the engagement had
been announced."
"No, of course not," said Elizabeth; "but I had expected that she or
Mrs. Grant would have written to me, or even Mrs. Wentworth, as they
must know I should be interested."
Colonel Fitzwilliam could not immediately recall anything of Mrs.
Wentworth beyond her name, and on being reminded that she was Sir
Walter Elliot's daughter, presently replied: "I do not think it
altogether surprising she should not have written to you. She probably
cares little for the marriage, and still less for the one which it was
anticipated would follow it--I mean Miss Elliot's to Mr. Crawford."
This was a new idea to Elizabeth, and while she was pondering over it,
and the inferences to be drawn from it, Colonel Fitzwilliam broke the
silence by saying: "Perhaps we had better not speak of this anymore,
Elizabeth. I know your great kindness of heart, but I feel it does no
good, rather harm, to be reviving thoughts which I must in honour
suppress as much as possible. I was anxious to know whether you had
heard anything, and to ask you again, when you have the chance, to tell
her that I wish her well; but now we have mentioned it, it would, I
think, be best for my contemptibly weak character to put it as far away
as possible."
With tears in her eyes, Elizabeth assured him that through the tenderest
regard for him, not through any fear of overtaxing his fortitude, she
would respect his wishes, but could not help begging him to remain with
them at Pemberley as heretofore, so as to give them an opportunity of
showing him how completely their happiness was bound up with his, and of
making use of any opportunity which might arise for them to be of
service to him. Fitzwilliam gratefully promised to stay for the present,
and said that his only engagement was to go to some friends in
Leicestershire in November, for the hunting.
Elizabeth was, nevertheless, not perfectly satisfied, and took occasion
to ask Georgiana shortly afterwards whether it was from Mrs. Wentworth
that she had heard confirmation of the fact that Sir Walter Elliot was
engaged to Miss Crawford.
"No," said Georgiana, in surprise, "it was from Mr. Price. Mrs.
Wentworth never mentioned it. Mrs. Wentworth! Of course, I recollect
now, she is Sir Walter Elliot's daughter; but at the time I never
thought of it, for, you see, I did not know Sir Walter was the man."
"Very true; I had also forgotten that you did not know," said Elizabeth,
"and would never connect her with Miss Crawford. I have been thinking
that I should like, for our own satisfaction, to know when the wedding
is going to take place, and the simplest way will be to write and ask
Mrs. Wentworth. I wish I had done so before, but I did not wish to be in
haste, and I felt so convinced we should hear from others."
Georgiana agreed that this was the best course to pursue, and Elizabeth,
having told Darcy of her intention, to which, on account of her promise
to Fitzwilliam, he could no longer object, wrote and dispatched her
letter.
The season was now drawing on, and with the shortening days the family
at Pemberley found themselves thrown more upon the resources of their
own immediate circle for amusement. The weather was consistently bad,
and though this did not prevent the gentlemen from covering great
distances for the purpose of slaughtering their game, the ladies were of
necessity restricted to a smaller area, and their walks seldom extended
beyond the park, except when their inclinations led them along a
tolerably clean road towards the Rectory. This happened pretty
frequently, for both Elizabeth and Georgiana were extremely attached to
Elinor Ferrars. Their friendship was of a particularly sincere and
well-balanced kind, and was not marred by their constant intercourse, as
each knew how to maintain that degree of reserve which prevents
indiscriminate confidences and so greatly strengthens mutual respect.
Kitty was the one who perhaps found the society of the Rectory the least
congenial; but it is to be feared that she was extremely difficult to
please that autumn, and in the impatience with which she waited for one
young man she might have sometimes regretted the solace which the
company of the other would have afforded.
In such a small neighbourhood everyone was of some value, and they all
heard with interest of the approaching visit to Mr. and Mrs. Edward
Ferrars of an old friend, Mrs. Jennings, who was coming early in October
to spend six or seven weeks with them. Mrs. Ferrars was in delicate
health, and Mrs. Jennings, besides having an almost maternal affection
for her, was well qualified to be of service as sick nurse and
enlivening companion, so that Elinor's warning to Mrs. Darcy that her
friend, although the kindest of women, had not always the most refined
manner of expressing herself, did not prevent them from being anxious to
make her acquaintance.
Mrs. Jennings performed in safety the long journey from her son-in-law's
house in Devonshire, and arrived in her customary high spirits. It was
her first visit to the Ferrars's since their removal from Delaford, and
she had to examine the house, to criticize minutely the arrangement of
their furniture, and to compare their surroundings, social and material,
with what they had been in their old home. Mrs. Darcy paid an early call
on the new arrival, and the morning after her visit Georgiana and Kitty
also found their way to the Rectory.
Mrs. Jennings's exuberance, her loud laugh and general noisy
cheerfulness did not recommend her strongly to either of the girls in
the first few minutes, and Georgiana was glad to move to a chair by Mrs.
Ferrars, to enter into a quieter conversation with her; but before
long, judging by the sounds which reached them, Mrs. Jennings and Kitty
had found some subjects in common. This perhaps was not so surprising,
as Mrs. Jennings was exceedingly fond of the society of all young girls,
and cared not at all whether they returned her partiality or no. In this
case she had begun, with the utmost frankness, to discourse on the
subject nearest her heart at the moment, namely, her dear Mrs. Ferrars,
and was relating all the circumstances under which their friendship had
been formed, the Dashwood girls' visit to London, the disagreeable
conduct of Mrs. Ferrars's mother and sister, and the absurd
misunderstanding as to Colonel Brandon's attentions, the whole being
punctuated by frequent bursts of laughter; and she would doubtless have
gone on to describe in detail the events attending the engagement of her
two young friends, had not Elinor mildly but decisively interposed.
"Dear madam," she said, breaking off in the midst of a remark to
Georgiana, "I am sure Miss Bennet does not wish to hear the history of
such a very dull old couple as ourselves. You are so kind as to be more
interested in it than most people could be."
"Lord, my dear," cried Mrs. Jennings, "why did you not stop me? I
declare I am very sorry if I said a word I ought not. I know my tongue
does run on, and Miss Bennet must excuse me, for it was only for the
pleasure of talking to you and Mr. Edward. And as for its being dull, I
don't believe there is anybody who does not like to hear of other
people's love-affairs; it makes one think of one's own, now, does it
not, Miss Bennet?"
Kitty blushed and looked embarrassed, and Mrs. Jennings laughed
heartily, saying: "It is just as I thought; Miss Bennet could tell us a
pretty tale too, I'll be bound, if only she would."
"Miss Bennet can tell us some wonderful tales of the West Indies," said
Elinor, endeavouring to turn Mrs. Jennings's mind from her favourite
topic; "she has a sister there, who writes to her constantly, does she
not, Miss Bennet? Those tropical places must be very beautiful. Do you
remember how Colonel Brandon used to talk to us of his travels in the
East, ma'am?"
"That I do, my dear," replied Mrs. Jennings emphatically, "and I never
want to hear again of such fearful things as he had seen--swamps, and
great things like alligators ... and insects that did everything insects
ought not. I hope you will tell your sister not to get amongst them,
Miss Bennet."
Kitty replied that her sister had written chiefly of the beautiful balls
and illuminations which they frequently had, and lately of some shocks
of earthquake which had frightened them terribly. Mrs. Jennings
exclaimed at this, and declared that the finest ball in the world would
not compensate her if there was the fear that the ground would open
under her feet while she was dancing. "But I know young people do not
care what risks they run," said she. "There was Sir John Middleton three
weeks ago wanted to have a moonlight picnic; my daughter Middleton was
all against it, for the weather was so threatening, but have it he
would, and the consequence was that they all ate their supper, or as
much of it as they could, in a roaring thunderstorm. I can tell you they
were in a pretty pickle when they got back! All the girls so cross, and
the young men not a dry thread among them through trying to protect the
ladies. But Sir John, he made no bones about it at all, but said they
would go again another night, when for sure it would be fine."
Her hearers could not help laughing at such a picture of undaunted
pleasure-seeking, and Elinor inquired if the second party had taken
place.
"Oh, Lord, yes; they all came, but their fathers and mothers made them
promise not to stir beyond the grounds. I heard, at any rate, they
turned it into a dance instead. But, as I say, young people don't care
for a drop of rain. I am sure, when I was young, I would as lief have
had it as not, for there was no hardship in sheltering under a hedge,
with the right young man to hold an umbrella over you, do you think so,
Miss Bennet?"
"Still, I fancy that most people, old or young, prefer outdoor
expeditions to be in dry weather," said Elinor. "That reminds me that I
must show you what terrible havoc last night's rain and wind worked in
my flower borders. When I looked out first, I was quite in despair,
thinking I should not have another nosegay all the autumn. There is a
gleam of sunshine now, so shall we take a turn in the garden?"
Georgiana gladly walked out with her, and Mrs. Jennings and Kitty
followed at a distance, the former questioning her young companion about
her sister abroad and hearing laments over the gaieties which that
sister had been able to offer her, but which she had never been able to
accept. Mrs. Jennings's hearty comments of "Well, there now, that is a
shame!" and "A regiment too! You would have broken all their hearts, I
vow!" and other such remarks pleased Kitty, while she knew in her heart
they ought not to do so.
The two girls shortly after took their leave, and while walking homeward
naturally compared notes upon the stranger whom they had just met.
Georgiana expressed herself guardedly, not wishing to condemn any friend
of Mrs. Ferrars's, although feeling as if that friend could not be in
any way an accession to their party; but Kitty's first unfavorable
impression seemed to have been obliterated, and she declared frankly
that she liked Mrs. Jennings and thought she was very merry and
good-natured. Georgiana could not quite agree with this, for she found
Mrs. Jennings's style of raillery not at all to her mind, but admitted
that she might be pleasanter when one got to know her well.
At dinner these opinions were canvassed, and Georgiana found, as she
expected, that her own were largely shared by Elizabeth, who, however,
was amused at her severity, and told her that she would often meet
people who, with more refined manners, were yet at heart far more vulgar
than Mrs. Jennings and had not a tenth part of her redeeming qualities.
"I do not think I want to meet them, then," said Georgiana. "But I am
sure you are right, Elizabeth, and I daresay she will be a great comfort
to Mrs. Ferrars."
When the ladies were together after dinner, Kitty, whose gravity and
preoccupation had been noticeable for the last half-hour, after
wandering several times round the room, stationed herself near to her
sister and began, in a solemn tone: "Lizzie, I want to ask you something
very important."
Elizabeth, smiling, professed herself all attention, and Kitty
continued: "You know you have never kept your promise, that you made
before you were married, of having a ball here, for each winter
something has happened to prevent it."
"Quite true, Kitty; so a ball is in your mind; and what made you think
of it just now?"
"I never come here without thinking of it, but I had somehow not
expected to be staying long enough this year, as I imagined I should go
home directly after the shooting party. But Mrs. Jennings said to-day
she supposed you sometimes had balls in this lovely house, and she was
sure Georgiana and I were fond of dancing."
"And Mrs. Jennings is quite right about the latter statement, is she
not?"
Georgiana looked up with a smile, to assent to her share of the
question, and Kitty clasped her hands rapturously, exclaiming: "Oh,
Lizzie, you know how much I love a ball! It would be so kind of you and
Darcy! Everyone would enjoy it!"
"I am very fond of balls myself," said Elizabeth. "Darcy, as you know,
is not, but I think even he might admit that it is sometimes a duty to
give one. The idea had crossed my own mind, I confess, but I had not
considered whether our party or our numbers would be suitable."
Kitty's joy at the favourable reception of her proposal was excessive;
she could not refrain from beginning to practise her steps about the
room, and singing the while from sheer delight, and the gentlemen,
entering at that moment, paused in astonishment on the threshold.
"What is this, Kitty?" inquired Darcy, approaching; "something Mrs.
Jennings has taught you?"
Extreme merriment at the idea of Mrs. Jennings as an instructress of
dancing prevented Kitty from immediately replying, but the whole matter
was presently explained and laid before Darcy for approval. Seeing that
her brother-in-law did not instantly dismiss the whole scheme, Kitty
poured out a flood of reasons to commend it; it was just the right time
of year, not too cold and snowy; Jane and Bingley would have a party
they could bring over; no ball had been given at Pemberley since
Georgiana was grown up; the house was so conveniently built, as if on
purpose for balls; and finally, it would be a most delightful thing for
everybody.
"I know you want time to think it over," said Elizabeth to her husband,
"and there is no hurry at all; but I think it is quite feasible, and we
really owe the neighbourhood some entertainment of the kind."
Darcy declared that he did not see why his house should be required to
furnish his neighbours with the so-called amusement of watching each
other promenading about a polished floor, and though no doubt it was a
great compliment to the original architect, he did not believe that
Pemberley had really been primarily designed for giving balls in; but
his family could perceive that his opposition was not intended to be
very serious, and the discussion terminated with his promising to talk
it over with Elizabeth, and even to consider the middle of November as
being a date likely to suit the convenience of both households.
Kitty regarded the matter as settled, and carried her news to the
Rectory the following morning in the highest spirits, assuring Mrs.
Jennings that it was owing to her suggestion that the subject had been
brought forward at the right moment. The sincerity of that lady's
delight, and the warmth of her congratulations, were most gratifying,
and she immediately began to ask Kitty who her partners would be, and
what variety the young men of the neighbourhood could afford.
Kitty confessed that there were not many living very near them, with the
exception of the officers of a regiment stationed at Ashbourne, with
some of whom her brother was acquainted, but that her sister, Mrs.
Bingley, would bring over one, or even two, who she knew for certain
danced extremely well.
"Aha!" cried Mrs. Jennings, "very pretty! And they are single men, too,
I warrant you."
Kitty's look of consciousness gave Mrs. Jennings far too fine an
opportunity to resist, and it did not take her long to ascertain enough
particulars about a certain young naval officer to convince her that
this ball was going to be the occasion for two young people to be made
happy and all their friends regaled with some interesting news. There
was no need for her to hear very minute descriptions of Mr. Price's
conduct and the impressions it had left on the beholders; the mere
mention of his existence, and a hint of Kitty's partiality, were
sufficient material upon which to build up a whole romance. Miss Bennet
might depend upon it, he was only waiting to come down here and make the
acquaintance of the rest of her family, and then not a moment would be
lost.
Although these assurances gave her pleasure and revived sensations which
Elizabeth and Georgiana had not wished to encourage, Kitty could not
help feeling a certain absurdity in accepting them from someone whose
convictions were based solely on a good-natured interest in the affair,
and she was tempted into giving a longer version of all that had
happened in London, in order that Mrs. Jennings might be more fully
informed. It was a decided relief to talk to a friend whose opinions
coincided with those of Mrs. Knightley, and as Mrs. Ferrars was not in
the room there was nothing to put a check on their confidences. She had,
however, an instinctive feeling of delicacy which made her stop short of
divulging a more recent experience, and the unconscious Mr. Morland was
saved, had he but known it, many witty sallies on his deserted
condition.
Elizabeth and Georgiana were amused to notice how willing Kitty
henceforward became to go to the Rectory, for whereas she had formerly
rather endured than enjoyed her visits there, she now volunteered to
join the others whenever they went. She was generally to be found,
during some part of the time, chatting with Mrs. Jennings; and when the
good lady called at Pemberley it was Kitty's office to escort her home
again. Mrs. Jennings had early discovered that Miss Darcy was grave and
quiet, and could on no account be induced to join in any joking
references to lovers, while Mrs. Darcy's general style and manner were
not such as to warrant the intimacy implied by such a conversation.
There were many other topics, for Mrs. Jennings was thoroughly kind and
friendly, and took the deepest interest in all her neighbours' concerns
besides the sentimental ones: their children, their gardens, their
poultry, their houses and their clothes. The ball, too, afforded
unending subjects for discussion. There was to be no disappointment; Mr.
Darcy had allowed himself to be talked into it, and the fifteenth of
November was fixed for the momentous occasion. Cards were sent out; the
officers accepted in a body; Colonel Fitzwilliam promised to stay for
it; new dresses were ordered from London; and not least among the minor
excitements was reckoned the arrival of a letter from Jane, expressing
the pleasure of herself and Bingley at the prospect, and engaging to
bring with them at that time, namely, Miss Bingley, Mr. Price and a Tom
Bertram. This last name was accounted for by Jane's explanation that
Bingley had asked Mr. Price to bring his brother with him, or some other
man who could shoot, and the brother not being available, Mr. Price had
secured instead his cousin, the elder son of Sir Thomas Bertram of
Mansfield Park.
Perhaps not one of the party at the breakfast-table, to whom this letter
was read aloud, could hear it altogether unmoved. Elizabeth and her
husband were naturally deeply interested in all that concerned Kitty,
and were glad to know there was a certainty of seeing at last the young
man of whom they had heard so much; while Georgiana rejoiced in this
clear proof of his anxiety to meet Kitty again, and built upon it hopes
of the progress of the affair speedily and uninterruptedly to its
desired ending. There need not, surely, be anything to delay it; on the
contrary, no young lovers had ever more favourable circumstances, his
own brief stay on shore an excuse for apparent haste, and Kitty's being
surrounded by her friends, whose approval would be equivalent to that of
her parents, making everything easy. Indeed, it was impossible to see
what obstacles could arise; he could not be diffident enough to
entertain doubts as to whether his feelings, or what were supposed to be
his feelings, were returned. Georgiana could not help a little smile at
this thought, though at the same time regretting that Kitty should allow
her heart to be read so clearly. To Kitty, the announcement of his
intended arrival at Desborough was scarcely less tremendous than if he
had walked into the room himself at that moment, demanding her hand as
he approached. The latter incident could hardly have caused her a
greater tremor than the former did, and as soon as she could get
Georgiana alone she poured out afresh the old hopes, fears and
anxieties, desiring Georgiana to confirm all her own surmises with
positive assertions; to reply: "I am _sure_ he will," when Kitty said "I
_hope_ he will"; and to say, "Of course, most certainly," when Kitty
speculated upon the various ways in which Mr. Price might be expected to
commit himself. Although feeling tolerably confident, Georgiana tried to
confine herself to assurances of warm sympathy, and pointed out to
Kitty that it was not prudent or delicate to assume so much when no
actual declaration had been made, but with Mr. Price's coming so nearly
in view, this idea detracted from Kitty's perfect satisfaction; she
privately found Mrs. Jennings, and her arrangement of the coming events,
far more encouraging.
Colonel Fitzwilliam's attention was caught by the names of Mrs.
Bingley's guests in rather a different manner. Mr. Price he recollected
as Georgiana's acquaintance, but the name of Bertram awoke associations
of a kind which he was trying to subdue. It was the name he had more
than once heard coupled with Miss Crawford's; it belonged to the people
who were fatally connected with her past life. Had he only the right to
protect her, the meeting with this representative of the family might
have afforded him an opportunity of refuting for ever the vague scandals
which were doing her so much harm; but he had no right; that privilege
belonged to Sir Walter Elliot, and the truest kindness he could do her
was to remain silent. In the new life she had chosen all the past should
be forgotten. He strove resolutely to put away these saddening
reflections, and to throw himself into the general interest of the
subject by making a few inquiries about the two young men. Georgiana was
the only person who could supply any information about Mr. Bertram, for
Mr. Price had told her his sister was married to his cousin, a Mr.
Edmund Bertram, also of Mansfield. It was evident that this must be the
older brother.
Fresh excitement was caused shortly afterwards by a second letter from
Mrs. Bingley. Jane wrote that Mr. Price and Mr. Bertram were to arrive
at Desborough on the sixth of November, and begged that the two girls
would come over on the previous day to spend a week there. Mr. Morland,
she took care to inform them, was intending to pass the greater part of
the month with his friends the Portinscales, and so, as Elizabeth had no
doubt already heard, would be unable to be present at the Pemberley
ball. In Kitty, this intelligence aroused the most fleeting of regrets,
but the others had leisure to feel sorry, while commending his prudence,
that circumstances should prevent his taking part in the general gaiety.
Jane had special reason for feeling kindly towards him, for she had
wished to ask Kitty to join the party, but had not liked to do so in
view of Mr. Morland's being at home, but he, suspecting that it would be
an occasion for inviting some of the relatives from Pemberley, had
quietly made his arrangements without allowing anyone to perceive the
hardship it was to him to deny himself a glimpse of Miss Catherine
Bennet.
The invitation was rapturously accepted on the part of Kitty, and very
willingly by Georgiana, for she liked being with Jane, and was pleased
at the prospect of seeing William again for his own sake. Elizabeth felt
it most important that the girls should be together, for Georgiana to
watch over Kitty and be a check on her impulsiveness; and Darcy gave a
sign of his confidence in his sister, very precious to her, by saying:
"It is a good thing you are asked, Georgiana, for there is no one else
who can be trusted to keep Kitty in order and bring us a sensible
account of this young man and his intentions."
To Desborough, then, they were to go, and to bear with them Mr. and Mrs.
Darcy's invitations to Mrs. Bingley's guests for the Pemberley ball.