Chapter 41

The first week was soon gone. The second began. It was the last of the regiment’s stay in Meryton, and all the young ladies in the neighbourhood were sad. The elder sisters alone were still able to eat, drink, and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. Kitty and Lydia were weeping.

“Good Heaven! what is to become of us? What are we to do?” they often exclaimed. “How can you smile, Lizzy?”

“I am sure I shall break my heart,” said Lydia.

“If we could go to Brighton!” observed Mrs. Bennet.

“Oh, yes! – if we could go to Brighton! But papa is so disagreeable.”

Elizabeth tried to stay apart; but all sense of pleasure was lost in shame. But suddenly Lydia received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the colonel of the regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This friend was a very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good humour and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other.

The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely to be described. Lydia flew about the house in restless ecstasy, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever.

“I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask me as well as Lydia,” said Kitty, “Though I am not her particular friend. I am two years older!”

In vain did Elizabeth attempt to make her reasonable. As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far from exciting in her the same feelings as in her mother and Lydia. She said to Mr. Bennet:

“Our importance, my dear father, our respectability in the world must be affected by the Lydia’s wild volatility, by her character. Excuse me, for I must speak plainly. In this danger Kitty also is comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads. Vain, ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled!”

Mr. Bennet, affectionately taking her hand, said in reply:

“Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are known you must be respected and valued. We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to Brighton. Let her go, then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will keep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an object of prey to anybody. At Brighton the officers will find women better worth their notice.”

In Lydia’s imagination, a visit to Brighton was real earthly happiness. She saw herself the object of attention. She herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six officers at once.

Elizabeth had to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. On the very last day of the regiment’s remaining at Meryton, he dined, with other of the officers, at Longbourn. She mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliam’s and Mr. Darcy’s staying at Rosings, and asked him, if he was acquainted with the former.

He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed; but with a smile, replied, that he had formerly seen him often; and, after observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man, asked her how she had liked him. Her answer was warmly in his favour. With an air of indifference he soon afterwards added:

“How long did you say he was at Rosings?”

“Nearly three weeks.”

“And you saw him frequently?”

“Yes, almost every day.”

“His manners are very different from his cousin’s.”

“Yes, very different. But I think Mr. Darcy improves.”

“Indeed!” cried Mr. Wickham with a look which did not escape her.

Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this. She saw that he wanted to engage her on the old subject of his grievances.

Lydia returned with Mrs. Forster to Meryton, from whence they were to set out early the next morning. The separation between her and her family was rather noisy than pathetic. Kitty was the only one who shed tears; but she did weep from vexation and envy.

Chapter 42

Elizabeth’s father, captivated by youth and beauty, had married a woman whose illiberal mind had very early in their marriage put an end to all real affection for her. Respect, esteem, and confidence had vanished for ever; and all his views of domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennet was fond of the country and of books; and these were his principal enjoyments. The true philosopher will derive benefit from such as are given.

Elizabeth, however, was not blind. She had always seen everything with pain. Wickham left, and at home she had mother and sister whose constant lamentations made the life insupportable. But she was dreaming about her tour to the Lakes; it was her best consolation.

When Lydia went away she promised to write very often to her mother and Kitty; but her letters were always very short.

After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health, and good humour began to reappear at Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet was restored to her usual querulous serenity; and, by the middle of June, Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton without tears.

The time fixed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fast approaching. But Mr. Gardiner could start in July, and must be in London again within a month, and as that left little time for them to go so far. Elizabeth was excessively disappointed; she dreamt of the Lakes.

Her relatives offered her to visit Derbyshire. And it was impossible for her to go to Derbyshire without thinking of Pemberley and its owner, Mr. Darcy.

The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks passed away before her uncle and aunt’s arrival. And Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, with their four children, appeared at Longbourn. The children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two younger boys, were to be left with their cousin Jane, who was ready to teach them, play with them, and love them.

The Gardiners stayed only one night at Longbourn, and left the next morning with Elizabeth in pursuit of amusement.

Mr. Gardiner declared his willingness to visit Pemberley, and Elizabeth did not say a word.

“My love, do not you like to see a place of which you have heard so much?” said her aunt; “a place, too, with which so many of your acquaintances are connected. Wickham passed all his youth there, you know.”

Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at Pemberley, she really had no pleasure in seeing rich houses.

Mrs. Gardiner noticed, “The views here are delightful. They have the finest woods in the country.”

Elizabeth said no more. The possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place, would be dreadful!

Chapter 43

Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of Pemberley Woods with some perturbation. Finally they turned in at the lodge.

The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a beautiful wood.

Elizabeth saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. They found themselves at the top of a big hill, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley. It was a large, handsome stone building, standing on rising ground. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more. They admired the view; and at that moment she felt that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!

They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the hall.

The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking elderly woman. They followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well proportioned room. Elizabeth went to a window to enjoy its prospect. From every window there were beauties to be seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome.

“And of this place,” thought she, “I might have been mistress! Instead of viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own.”

She wanted to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master was really absent, but had not the courage for it. The question was asked by her uncle. Mrs. Reynolds replied that he was, adding, “But we expect him tomorrow, with a large party of friends.”

Her aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached and saw the portrait of Mr. Wickham. Her aunt asked her, how she liked it. The housekeeper came forward, and told them it was a picture of a young gentleman, the son of her late master’s steward. “He is now gone into the army,” she added; “but I am afraid he has turned out very wild.”

Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with a smile.

“And that,” said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures, “is my master. It was drawn at the same time as the other – about eight years ago.”

“I have heard much of your master,” said Mrs. Gardiner, looking at the picture; “it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you can tell us whether it is like or not.”

Mrs. Reynolds asked:

“Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?”

Elizabeth coloured, and said: “A little.”

“And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma’am?”

“Yes, very handsome.”

Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn when she was only eight years old.

“And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?” said Mrs. Gardiner.

“Oh! yes – the handsomest young lady that ever was seen! She plays and sings all day long. In the next room there is a new instrument – a present from my master; she comes here tomorrow with him.”

“Does your master live at Pemberley?” asked Mr. Gardiner.

“Not so much as I could wish, sir; but Miss Darcy is always here for the summer months.”

“If your master would marry, you could see him more often.”

“Yes, sir; but I do not know when that will be. I do not know who is good enough for him. Everybody will say so.”

“You are lucky in having such a master.”

“Yes, sir, I know I am. I have always observed, that they who are good-natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and he was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the world.”

Elizabeth almost stared at her. “Can this be Mr. Darcy?” thought she.

“His father was an excellent man,” said Mrs. Gardiner.

“Yes, ma’am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him.”

Elizabeth listened, wondered, and doubted. Mrs. Reynolds continued, “He is the best landlord, and the best master, that ever lived. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw anything of it. And he is certainly a good brother.”

In the gallery there were many family portraits. When they had seen all of the house, they returned downstairs, and took leave of the housekeeper.

As they walked across the hall towards the river, Elizabeth turned back to look again; her uncle and aunt stopped also, and the owner of the house suddenly came forward from the road.

Mr. Darcy became immovable from surprise; but shortly recovering himself, spoke to Elizabeth. He repeated his inquiries about Longbourn and Derbyshire, and she answered. He was speaking very politely, without pride, and Elizabeth was very surprised. She did not know what to think.

Mr. Darcy handed the ladies into the carriage; and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him walking slowly towards the house.

“He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming,” said her uncle. “His behaviour to us more than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such attention.”

“To be sure, Lizzy,” said her aunt, “he is not so handsome as Wickham. But why did you tell me that he was so disagreeable?”

Elizabeth said that she had liked him better when they had met in Kent than before, and that she had never seen him so pleasant as this morning.