The departure of the ladies for Desborough left a small party at
Pemberley, for several days previously Colonel Fitzwilliam had gone with
his horses to Leicestershire, and good accounts of the hunting prospects
had been received from him. The Darcys were not, however, to remain for
long alone, for the arrival of Mrs. Grant and Miss Crawford had been
fixed for a date early in the following week. Elizabeth delayed no
further in preparing Georgiana for their visit, and at same time
communicated to her the fact which she had learnt from Mrs. Wentworth,
of Miss Crawford's not being engaged to Sir Walter Elliot. Georgiana
listened with the greatest interest, and joined warmly in the expression
of Elizabeth's hopes that Colonel Fitzwilliam might yet be made happy,
although for the present there was nothing to be done but to try to make
Miss Crawford feel at home and comfortable among them all.
"I shall confine my efforts solely to that," said Elizabeth laughingly.
"It would be useless as well as dangerous to attempt any further
matchmaking until we know the extent of feeling on _both_ sides, for
that want of that knowledge has made us singularly unsuccessful lately,
has it not, Georgiana?"
Georgiana assented but could not smile; for just then only the tragical
side of unrequited love was turned towards her. A brief letter of thanks
had been received by his hostess from William Price, saying all that was
necessary in a matter simple and sincere, and closing with a message of
"greetings and remembrance to all your family." Georgiana's cheeks
burned as she handed it back, and she was glad to turn away, and take
her little niece upon her lap, while Darcy, glancing over the letter,
said: "He seems an agreeable, manly young fellow, from what I saw of
him; I should be sorry to think he would treat a girl ill."
"A girl's fancy does not always keep pace with common-sense, in such a
case as the one you speak of," said his wife. "And as I told you, I do
not think Kitty was very wisely counselled from the first."
"Probably not," said Darcy, "a young man at his age and in his
profession is likely to flutter the dovecotes quite unconsciously. But
there was something so frank and pleasing about him that one would wish
to believe him thoroughly estimable."
Georgiana, through the little one's chatter, heard these words with
delight; that William Price should have gained her brother's good
opinion was a source of rejoicing, even though that advantage might now
avail him nothing.
Miss Crawford looked very thin and ill when she arrived, and the first
part of her visit passed very quietly. She spent the chief of her time
in her own rooms, descending only to join the family at dinner and
during the evening, and when not talking to Elizabeth, seemed to find
her greatest pleasure in listening to Georgiana's music. Mrs. Grant
watched over her with unremitting solicitude, but by no means treated
her as a sick person, evidently desiring that she should rouse herself,
take an interest in things around her, and make whatever exertion she
felt equal to. The tranquility of the life exactly suited her, and
before many days an improvement in her health and spirits became
noticeable. She was able to take drives in the mildest part of the day,
or go for short walks through the pleasure grounds when the frosts of
December came in, and the mornings were bright and invigorating. The
beauty of the country around, the healthiness of the air, and the quiet
kindness of her host and hostess, gradually had their effect upon a
troubled mind and a weakened body; and Colonel Fitzwilliam's name was
barely mentioned, Lady Catherine de Bourgh's never.
One morning, when Georgiana and Mrs. Grant had walked down to the
Rectory, Elizabeth was sitting with her guest, and with the view of
entertaining her, gave her a description of the charades, not omitting
the energetic part played by Mr. Bertram in organizing them. Mary's
colour changed a little on first hearing his name, but she gave all her
attention to the recital, and it was not until some minutes later, when
silence had fallen between them, that she said suddenly: "I wonder if
Mr. Bertram or Mr. Price spoke of me to you, Mrs. Darcy. Were you aware
that I knew them both?"
Elizabeth replied that she had heard from Georgiana of Mr. Price's
acquaintance with Miss Crawford, but of Mr. Bertram's she had not known,
the subject never having been approached while the young men were
there.
"I thought not," said Miss Crawford, and after a moment's pause she
added, colouring slightly: "I have had too much experience of your
kindness to think that you would treat me differently if you did know
the whole circumstances; nevertheless, I felt sure that you did not, and
I made up my mind before I came here, that I would not be any further
indebted to you while you remained in ignorance. Each day I have been
expecting you to ask me some question about the reason for Lady
Catherine's hostility to us, for you were fully entitled to an
explanation after the kind and generous way in which you wrote to me,
and which I fear I acknowledged so inadequately." She stopped, emotion
and weakness depriving her momentarily of speech, and Elizabeth, who had
been endeavouring to check her, took hold of her hand, and with the
utmost gentleness begged her not to continue and not to agitate herself.
"Dear Miss Crawford, I am entitled to no explanation, and I do not wish
for one. It is you who ought to receive the fullest apologies of the
whole family for my aunt's conduct to you. My cousin told us all that
happened that evening after we left, and, as I told you in my letter, I
can never be sufficiently ashamed and grieved on account of what you
were subjected to. If you can forgive us, do not let us revive the
subject; it is painful to us both."
Miss Crawford indicated that she wished to be allowed to speak, and
after a few moments spent in recovering herself, she went on in a low
voice, and looking away from Elizabeth: "I did not mean to refer to that
part of it, and least of all with you, whose goodness has almost
obliterated it from my mind. I mean the reason for Lady Catherine's
attack. You must have surmised that there was some cause for it; she
must have told you that she had heard something to my detriment, or, at
all events, you have gathered that something of the kind exists? It is
that that I wish to make clear; I feel that I owe it to you to tell you
exactly, as far as they concern myself, what things are said about me,
in order that when you hear them from others, you may be able to
separate the true from the false. For some of them are true, you know;
that is the unfortunate part of it." As she concluded, she glanced at
Elizabeth with an attempt at a smile, though her hands were trembling.
Elizabeth attempted to calm and reassure her. "There is no need for you
to tell me anything if you do not feel equal to the effort," she said.
"I think I do already know the greater part of the story, and I can
assure you that we have never believed the smallest thing
disadvantageous to yourself. I had heard enough of it before Mr. Yates
appeared to be convinced that you were the person injured and misjudged,
and that a maliciously distorted version of events was poured down my
aunt's ears. I shall be very happy if some day you will give me your
confidence, but I fear it might do you harm to talk of it just now, and
recall things in which persons you cared for were involved?"
Elizabeth's manner was so kind, that Mary was glad to allow herself to
be persuaded, and lay back on her sofa murmuring: "Yes, you are right,"
looking at the same time tired and relieved. She presently added, with a
little more brightness: "I am glad you know, and that you do not think
me such a monster as Lady Catherine described."
"I never thought you were a monster, my dear Miss Crawford," assured
Elizabeth, smiling and studying her guest's countenance while her own
mind was busy. Miss Crawford's definitely, if laughingly expressed
desire to be reinstated in the good opinion of Mrs. Darcy, probably
included in its object the rest of the family; and, if so, then in spite
of their abrupt separation at Bath, in spite of all that had happened
since in London, Colonel Fitzwilliam must be among the number. Elizabeth
felt as if she were groping in the dark, for she had no clue to Miss
Crawford's present feelings towards him; but though she had not intended
to speak of him yet, this was at least an opportunity of discovering
whether they were feelings of goodwill. She accordingly said, as if
continuing the same train of thought: "My cousin was so glad that he had
happened to remain behind us, and could therefore attempt to do
something, even though it was but little, to remedy the evil caused by
those objectionable Ferrars."
Mary started and changed her position, and Elizabeth, though not looking
directly at her, could perceive a variety of expressions pass across her
face. She did not answer immediately, and her reply, when uttered: "It
was very kind of Colonel Fitzwilliam," sounded cold and reserved.
"I do not regard it as kindness," said Elizabeth; "his regard for you
and his indignation on your behalf made him anxious to do far more. He
told me that he bitterly regretted having left you that evening, after
we had gone away. If he had stayed near you, he could have prevented
much that followed."
Again Mary took some time to reply, and when she did, to Elizabeth's
surprise, it was with more than a touch of scornfulness. "Colonel
Fitzwilliam has a great power of self-effacement, has he not? He must
have practiced the art of disappearing unexpectedly, with as little
warning as the magician in the fairy stories."
"But does he so?" asked Elizabeth, whose astonishment increased. "I had
not noticed it. We think him generally a staid and sober person, who
does things with even more than the usual amount of consideration. Did
he not return--did you not see him that evening at my aunt's?"
"Oh, yes, that evening," said Mary. "I believe he did see us to the
carriage; I was not thinking so much of that occasion. But in London--I
saw him once or twice, and he talked as if he were going to remain, and
then he vanished as if the earth had swallowed him. Of course, it did
not matter; he had only himself to please; but I heard several people
remark on it."
Elizabeth pondered, and to gain time inquired: "Did he speak as though
he hoped to see you again while he was there?"
"Yes--at least we thought so; my sister and I may have misunderstood, or
he may have meant nothing; people can hardly be expected to account for
all their sudden freaks, can they?" replied Mary, speaking with an
indifference so marked that her companion could not help fancying it was
assumed. Elizabeth hesitated no longer, and was about to speak, with the
intention of telling Miss Crawford why Colonel Fitzwilliam had left town
so suddenly, when the door opened to admit Mrs. Grant and Georgiana, so
that she was obliged to postpone the communication till some future
time, and to leave matters in a state which more than ever seemed to
need elucidation.
The opportunity, however, was long in coming. After their half-finished
talk, Mary Crawford appeared to avoid being alone with her hostess. She
came downstairs more, and gradually began to live almost entirely with
the rest of the family, but constantly kept close to her sister and
Georgiana on various pretexts. The latter did not venture to speak to
her of Colonel Fitzwilliam, but Mary was not long in discovering that
the name of William Price was a welcome one to her young friend, and
seeing that Georgiana wished to _hear_, without having to _ask_, Mary
told all she knew of his youth, his family and his past career,
descanting on his charm and his fine qualities of character, while
Georgiana sat in silence, her downcast eyes and glowing cheeks alone
betraying the interest which the subject had for her. Mary guessed at
the meaning of it all, but considerately said no word to arouse
Georgiana's self-consciousness, and their friendship grew almost
unawares, neither knowing how much each thought of, and would have liked
to help, the other.
It was not until nearly a week after the subject had first been broached
that Elizabeth found it possible to renew it, and then only by
deliberately engaging the attention of Miss Crawford, in inviting her to
walk with her one morning along the high road. Darcy had driven with
Mrs. Grant and Georgiana to a distant part of the estate, and it had
been proposed that the other two ladies should come to meet them on
their return, so that Miss Crawford could take a seat in the barouche
should she feel tired. It was such a beautiful morning, crisp, cold and
bright, that Mrs. Grant over-ruled the objections which her sister was
beginning to make, and assured her that a brisk walk in such weather
could do her nothing but good. Elizabeth half suspected that she would
still find some way of avoiding the expedition, but when twelve o'clock
arrived, Miss Crawford descended into the hall, saying smilingly: "All
ready, you see, Mrs. Darcy. Don't you think I am the most obedient
patient you ever saw? At this rate, you will soon be able to send me
away a complete cure."
"I hardly think of you as a patient now, and still less do I think of
sending you away," returned Elizabeth, as they emerged from the house.
"Mr. Darcy and I should be sadly disappointed if you left us directly
you were well enough to do so."
"You are always so kind," said Miss Crawford. "But I fear our visit must
come to an end soon, as it is less than a fortnight to Christmas, and
you will probably be having a large family party for the occasion."
Such a remark could only be interpreted in one way, and Elizabeth, after
reiterating her hope that Miss Crawford and Mrs. Grant would make a long
stay, and assuring her guest that their numbers at Christmas would be
the same as at present, went on almost immediately: "The other day we
were speaking of Colonel Fitzwilliam's sudden departure from London, and
I wanted to tell you, if it is not tiresome to you to hear, what I
believe to have been the reason for it. I am so anxious he should not be
misunderstood, or thought capricious."
"Oh, Mrs. Darcy, I did not seem to imply he was. I am sure he has the
best of reasons for what he does, and anyhow, they are no business of
mine."
Elizabeth would not let the subject be dismissed, and continued very
gently: "He had good reasons in this case, and I hope very much you will
not dislike my mentioning them, as they concern you. He left London
because he cared for you, and had just heard, on what he believed to be
unimpeachable authority, that you were engaged to another man. The news
was such a blow to him that he could not endure to stay where he might
possibly meet you again."
There was a short pause; Mary grew crimson, uttered an exclamation, and
then, controlling herself with an effort, said in tones of suppressed
anger: "If Colonel Fitzwilliam told you that, Mrs. Darcy, he is
deceiving you and himself. It would be much better to admit candidly
that when he saw me again in London he did not care for me as much as he
had thought, instead of making my supposed engagement an excuse for his
disappearance."
Elizabeth stood still for a moment, completely taken aback by this
version of affairs, and could only exclaim: "Miss Crawford!"
"Oh, I beg your pardon; I know I ought not to speak to you, who are his
relative," said Mary, walking on with quick impetuous steps. "Pray
forgive me, Mrs. Darcy; I know _you_ are true, who ever else is not. But
you cannot guess how hard it is to be accused of sending a person away
before they have even approached one; to be blamed for causing trouble
when one has never been a free agent, and when the trouble has all
reacted upon one's self."
"I would not blame you for the world," said Elizabeth. "You must
remember I know but little of the facts, and nothing at all of how they
appear from the other side. My principal object, as I have said, is to
prevent my cousin from being misjudged, not to make any accusations
against anyone; will you not tell me a little more, so that between us
we may clear the whole matter up?"
Elizabeth was obliged to proceed with the utmost caution, and to speak
less openly than she would have wished, for instinct warned her that
Miss Crawford was not yet ready to be guided, or even sympathized with.
It was far too soon to assume any special interest on her part in
Colonel Fitzwilliam, though her last speech had admitted the existence
of a trouble not unconnected to him.
"There is really nothing to tell you, Mrs. Darcy," said Miss Crawford.
"What happened is simply a succession of negatives. Colonel Fitzwilliam
reappeared in London, and showed every sign of wishing to renew his
friendship with my sister and me, but he departed without doing so. I
was not engaged to anyone at that time, nor have I been since, as he
might have easily found out if he had asked the right people."
"Miss Crawford!" cried Elizabeth earnestly; "he _had_ reason to believe
it. Perhaps he did not ask your nearest relatives, but you are surely
aware--it involves no reproach to yourself--but it was talked of, and
assumed to be a fact, among your friends generally?"
Mary evidently found it difficult to reply, but at length said: "Yes, I
know it was talked of, but there was never any truth in it. I know I was
foolish. I went about a great deal with those people--with the Elliots;
I let myself be drawn into their circle, and I suppose it was pleasant
to be fêted and made much of; Mrs. Darcy, I daresay you hardly know what
it is to drift into an intimacy that amuses you, and occupies your time,
while your heart is never in it the smallest degree."
"I think I understand," said Elizabeth gently. "You had been with them
at Bath, and it was difficult to free yourself from the association when
you met again?"
"Yes, and my brother liked them--or they liked him--and it is always
natural for me to be where he is. But I was not bound to them, and it
was not all enjoyment. How often I wished that something would happen to
take me out of it! How gladly would I not have gone!"
"My cousin hoped, I think, to have made some arrangements with you and
your sister, but he was not sure if they would be acceptable."
"Colonel Fitzwilliam did not put himself to much trouble about it,"
returned Mary. "The extent of his plans was, that he asked permission to
come and call, and then did not do so."
"Because he had heard in the meantime of your engagement," said
Elizabeth. "Dear Miss Crawford, you must, you must, indeed, let me
convince you of his sincerity. He cared for you in Bath; you know he did
for he told your sister so." She looked anxiously at Mary, and received
a glance of reluctant assent. "No one more deeply lamented the
misfortune which separated you after that; and can you wonder that, when
you meet again, the remembrance of what happened made him diffident as
to his reception, and uncertain of the place he still might hold in your
esteem? But he was as devoted to you as ever, and only longed for a
chance of showing it. Oh!"--Elizabeth broke off impatiently, but smiling
at herself--"I ought not to be saying this to you in these cold, bald
words; I cannot plead his case as eloquently as he could; but at least I
can implore you to believe in him. Grant that he acted with
over-caution, and did not consult his own best interests: he was afraid
of precipitating matters by speaking before he could divine what you
felt for him. But that his affection was there, I know positively. A man
who had cared less would have stayed, would have pretended indifference,
and would have congratulated you on your engagement."
"I wish he had," said Miss Crawford, trying to smile, though the tears
filled her eyes, "for then I could have told him of his mistake, and
asked him why he was in such a hurry to credit it."
"I do not think he was in a hurry," said Elizabeth sadly; "he would not
have believed it if he could have helped it, and if you could see him
now, you would know what real grief can do for a man of his nature."
"I am sorry," said Miss Crawford, without much warmth, but a moment
later she exclaimed: "Yes, it is bad for a man to bring unhappiness on
himself through an error, but I suppose it never occurred to him that by
going off in that way, without a word, he might be leaving the same
thing for someone else. If I were a man, I would never accept my
dismissal except from the woman herself; I would at least have the
courage to put my fate to the touch."
Elizabeth weighed these words for an instant, and then turning to look
in her companion's face, she said: "I want to ask you one thing, but you
need not reply if you do not wish. If my cousin had put his fate to the
touch while he was in London, would he have had the answer, or any hope
of answer, that he desired?"
Mary coloured deeply, but did not turn her eyes away from Mrs. Darcy's.
"It is hardly fair, is it, to ask me a question which he has never
asked?" she said, with a slight smile. "But it is useless to try to keep
secrets from such a friend as yourself, and I suppose you are answered
by now."
They stopped with one accord beside a gate, and stood looking over the
long furrows of brown earth in the field, but neither seeing them. Miss
Crawford's blush remained, and her lips were set rather defiantly, when
Elizabeth turned to her and said with great earnestness: "I said that
Colonel Fitzwilliam was not coming back before Christmas, and that is
quite true, but may I not tell him to come? I will do nothing without
your permission; will not even say that you are here; but will you not
give him leave to come, and speak for himself, and try to atone for the
mistakes and unhappiness of the past? Indeed, though at this moment he
has no hope of it, I know that he would ask no greater privilege."
Mary laid her hand on her friend's, and replied affectionately, but
without any hesitation: "No, no, Mrs. Darcy, do not tell him to come. I
thought you would suggest something of the kind, but I would much rather
not. It would be no kindness to either of us." Then, as Elizabeth still
looked questioningly at her, she continued: "I really mean it. Since we
are to be quite frank, I did feel very much what I thought to be Colonel
Fitzwilliam's defection, and Frances would tell you that that accounts
for my stupid ill-health this autumn; I do not quite agree, but none the
less, I am confident that we had better not meet again. It is too late,
when people are getting on towards respectable middle life as we are.
You smile, but do you know I am near my thirtieth birthday? No, we have
both recovered from the wounds of last summer, and we should be wiser
not to risk reopening them."
"It would be a healing, I think, not a reopening," said Elizabeth.
"Do you think so? But one cannot tell. Colonel Fitzwilliam must have
been in love with some ideal person, a Mary Crawford who never really
existed, or he would not have been frightened away so easily from the
actual one. If he were to see me again, there might be a fresh
disappointment in store. Does he still think I am to marry Sir Walter
Elliot?"
"I do not know. Darcy and I have never told him otherwise."
"Ah, well, do not let him be undeceived; and some day, perhaps in
London, we shall be sent in to dinner together, and imagine his surprise
and dismay at finding it is plain Miss Crawford, and not Lady Elliot! It
will give us something to talk about through the first three courses.
Dear Mrs. Darcy, you look disapprovingly at me, but seriously, I do
think, if we ever are to meet, it will be best to do so by accident. I
could hardly bear a premeditated encounter as it would be here, each of
us knowing that we were expected to play a certain part."
"It is better he should not come, of course, if you are not sure whether
you could accept him," said Elizabeth.
"That it is; I suppose I am not sure; because, you see, circumstances
have combined to make Colonel Fitzwilliam appear in light of a
half-hearted admirer, and though I know from you he is not, yet I have
no experience of his own powers of recommending himself. Do not be angry
with me, or let this spoil our friendship; I am so glad now that you
know all, and you will let me come and stay with you sometimes when he
is away, will you not?"
A time-honoured custom has ordained that only one reply shall be made to
an appeal of this kind, and Elizabeth duly assured her friend that it
should make no difference; feeling, indeed, that as she had asked for an
explanation, she could not resent Miss Crawford's frankness, nor could
she like the high-spirited girl less for the glimpse she had given of
her heart. There was no denying, however, that the end of their
conversation had been a good deal of a disappointment. Mary's confession
had been so much more than Elizabeth had ventured to hope for, that it
was melancholy to realize that it came, as she herself had said, too
late; too late for Colonel Fitzwilliam to be in any way the gainer by
it. Many times during the day and the succeeding ones did Elizabeth turn
over in her mind a series of plans to bring her two friends together
again, in some way entirely unforeseen by both; but all had to be
discarded, for Miss Crawford had been so decisive, and it was not
certain that the Colonel would make any better use of his chances,
unless he could be warned of how he had failed previously. The more
Elizabeth pondered over the events of last year, in the new light now
thrown upon them, the better she was able to understand Mary's point of
view, and to comprehend that it was not solely Lady Catherine's
insulting behaviour, or her cousin's want of self-confidence, or Mary's
own pride and recklessness, but something of all three, that had ruined
their prospects of happiness; and she mourned sincerely over the wreck
and the impossibility of restoring it, while they were so obstinately
resolved to remain strangers to one another. If only Fitzwilliam had
known, when in London, that the prize lay so near his hand! that he had
gained Mary's love, almost without trying to do so, merely by watching
and waiting, and not submitting to the rebuff she had given him at the
end of their stay in Bath! But the opportunity had passed, and he had
lost more ground now than he might ever recover, for Elizabeth knew well
that Mary's resentment was the real obstacle: _his_ feelings were
unaltered, but hers she had striven, perhaps with some measure of
success, to harden into indifference.