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On the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receiving her brother and his wife, who came as usual to spend the Christmas at Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man. Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger than Mrs. Bennet, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant woman, and a great favourite with all her Longbourn nieces. The two eldest had frequently been staying with her in town.
Mrs. Bennet had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. Two of her girls had been upon the point of marriage, and after all there was nothing in it.
“I do not blame Jane,” she continued, “But Lizzy! Oh, sister! It is very hard to think that she might have been Mr. Collins’s wife by this time. Just think: Lady Lucas will have a daughter married before I have. The Lucases are very artful people indeed, sister. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted so in my own family, and to have neighbours who think of themselves before anybody else.”
Mrs. Gardiner, to whom this news had been given before, in the course of Jane and Elizabeth’s correspondence with her, made her sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her nieces, turned the conversation.
When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. “These things happen so often! A young man, such as you describe Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty girl for a few weeks, and when accident separates them, so easily forgets her. Say, how violent was Mr. Bingley’s love?”
“I never saw a more promising inclination. Every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he offended two or three young ladies, by not asking them to dance; and I spoke to him twice myself, without receiving an answer.”
“Oh, yes! Poor Jane! I am sorry for her. But do you think she would join us to go back with us? Changes may help her – and perhaps a little relief from home may be useful.”
Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased with this proposal.
“I hope,” added Mrs. Gardiner, “that she will not connect this journey with this young. We live in a different part of town, all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go out so little, that it is very improbable that they should meet at all, unless he really comes to see her.”
“And that is quite impossible, Mr. Darcy would not let him go alone! My dear aunt, how could you think of it? Mr. Bingley never moves without him.”
“I hope they will not meet at all.”
Miss Bennet accepted her aunt’s invitation with pleasure.
Mrs. Gardiner decided to talk to Elizabeth about Mr. Wickham.
“Elizabeth, are you in love with him?”
“Oh, do not be afraid, he shall not be in love with me, if I can prevent it.”
“Elizabeth, you are not serious now.”
“I beg your pardon. At present I am not in love with Mr. Wickham; no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison, the most agree– able man I ever saw – and if he becomes really attached to me – I believe it will be better that he should not. Oh! that abominable Mr. Darcy! My father, however, is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dear aunt, all that I can promise you, therefore, is not to be in a hurry. In short, I will do my best.”
Charlotte and Mr. Collins got married. The wedding took place; and the bride and bridegroom went to Kent from the church door. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend; and their correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been. Elizabeth felt that Charlotte wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts. The house, furniture, neighbourhood, and roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine’s behaviour was most friendly.
January and February passed away. In March Elizabeth decided to visit Hunsford. She had not at first thought very seriously of going there; but Charlotte insisted. Absence had increased her desire of seeing Charlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. Moreover, the journey would give her an opportunity to see Jane.
The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly friendly. She left him convinced that, whether married or single, he must always be her model of the amiable and pleasing.
It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it so early as to be in Gracechurch Street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gardiner’s door, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival. Elizabeth was pleased to see her healthful and lovely as ever.
The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres.
Elizabeth received an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in a tour which they proposed taking in the summer.
“We have not determined how far it shall carry us,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “but, perhaps, to the Lakes.”
No plan could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and her acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. “Oh, my dear, dear aunt,” she rapturously cried, “what delight! what felicity! You give me fresh life and vigour. Good-bye to disappointment and spleen. What are young men to rocks and mountains? Oh! what happy hours we shall spend! Lakes, mountains, and rivers, I adore them!”
Elizabeth’s northern tour was a constant source of delight. When they left the high road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in search of the Parsonage.
Finally the Parsonage was seen. Mr. Collins and Charlotte appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at the small gate. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend with the liveliest pleasure, and Elizabeth was more and more satisfied with coming when she found herself so affectionately received. She saw instantly that her cousin’s manners were not altered by his marriage.
Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory; he wished to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. When Mr. Collins said anything of which his wife might be ashamed, which certainly was very often, she involuntarily turned her eye on Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but in general Charlotte wisely did not hear.
Mr. Collins invited his guests to take a walk in the garden, which was very large. To work in this garden was one of his most respectable pleasures. His house was a handsome modern building, well situated on rising ground.
From his garden, Mr. Collins would have led them round his two meadows; but the ladies, not having comfortable shoes, turned back; and while Sir William accompanied him, Charlotte took her sister and friend over the house, to have the opportunity of showing it without her husband’s help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency.
She had already learnt that Lady Catherine was still in the country. They spoken about her while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins observed:
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honour of seeing Lady Catherine de Bourgh on Sunday at church, and I need not say you will be delighted with her. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never allowed to walk home. Her ladyship’s carriage is regularly ordered for us. I should say, one of her ladyship’s carriages, for she has several.”
“Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed,” added Charlotte, “and a most attentive neighbour.”
“Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say.”
About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready for a walk, Elizabeth heard somebody running up stairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened the door and met Maria, who, breathless with agitation, cried out —
“Oh, my dear Eliza! make haste and come into the dining-room! I will not tell you what it is. Make haste, and come down this moment.”
Elizabeth asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing more, and down they ran into the dining-room. It was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at the garden gate.
“And is this all?” cried Elizabeth. “I expected at least that the pigs were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter.”
“My dear,” said Maria, quite shocked at the mistake, “it is not Lady Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them; the other is Miss de Bourgh. Only look at her. She is quite a little creature. Who would have thought that she could be so thin and small?”
“Why does she not come in?”
“Oh, Charlotte says she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favours when Miss de Bourgh comes in.”
“I like her appearance,” said Elizabeth. “She looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will make him a very proper wife.”
There was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, and the others returned into the house.
Mr. Collins’s triumph, in consequence of this invitation, was complete. The power of showing the grandeur of his patroness to his visitors was exactly what he had wished for.
Scarcely anything was talked of the whole day or next morning but their visit to Rosings. Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in what they were to expect: the sight of such rooms, so many servants, and so splendid a dinner.
He said to Elizabeth —
“Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your dress. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for being simply dressed.”
As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half a mile across the park. Every park has its beauty; and Elizabeth saw much to be pleased with.
From the entrance-hall they followed the servants to the room where Lady Catherine, her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson were sitting. Her lady– ship, with great condescension, arose to receive them.
Elizabeth could see the three ladies before her. Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with strongly-marked features, which might once have been handsome.
When, after examining the mother, in whose countenance she soon found some resemblance of Mr. Darcy, she turned her eyes on the daughter. She was very thin and small. There was neither in figure nor face any likeness between the ladies. Miss de Bourgh was pale and sickly; her features were insignificant; and she spoke very little.
The party did not supply much conversation. Elizabeth was ready to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seated between Charlotte and Miss de Bourgh – the former of whom was engaged in listening to Lady Catherine. Mrs. Jenkinson was chiefly employed in watching how little Miss de Bourgh ate, pressing her to try some other dish. The gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire.
When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, there was little to be done but to hear Lady Catherine talk.
“Do you play and sing, Miss Bennet?”
“A little.”
“Oh! then – some time or other we shall be happy to hear you. Our instrument is a capital one. You shall try it some day. Do your sisters play and sing?”
“One of them does.”
“Why did not you all learn? Do you draw?”
“No, not at all.”
“What, none of you?”
“Not one.”
“That is very strange. But I suppose you had no opportunity.”
“We never had any governess.”
“No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought up at home without a governess! I never heard of such a thing. Then, who taught you? who attended to you?”
“We were always encouraged to read, and had all the masters that were necessary. Those who chose to be idle, certainly might.”
When the gentlemen had joined them, and tea was over, the card-tables were placed. Lady Catherine, Sir William, and Mr. and Mrs. Collins sat down to quadrille.
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