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Chapter 43
Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched
for the first appearance of Pemberley Woods with some perturbation; and
when at
length they turned in at the lodge, her spirits were in a high
flutter.
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 stretching over a wide extent.
Elizabeth's mind was too
full for
conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable spot and point
of
view. They
gradually ascended for
half-a-mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable
eminence,
where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley
House,
situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road with
some
abruptness wound. It
was a large,
handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by
a ridge
of high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance
was
swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks
were
neither formal nor falsely adorned.
Elizabeth was delighted.
She had
never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural
beauty had
been so little counteracted by an awkward taste.
They were all of them warm in their
admiration; 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; and, while examining the nearer aspect
of the
house, all her apprehension of meeting its owner returned. She dreaded lest the
chambermaid had been
mistaken. On applying to see the place,
they were admitted into the hall; and Elizabeth, as they waited for the
housekeeper, had leisure to wonder at her being where she was.
The housekeeper came; a
respectable-looking elderly woman, much less fine, and more civil, than
she had
any notion of finding her. They
followed
her into the dining-parlour. It
was a
large, well proportioned room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, after
slightly
surveying it, went to a window to enjoy its prospect.
The hill, crowned with wood, which they had
descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a
beautiful
object. Every
disposition of the ground
was good; and she looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees
scattered on
its banks and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it,
with
delight. As they
passed into other rooms
these objects were taking different positions; but from every window
there were
beauties to be seen. The
rooms were
lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of its
proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration of his taste, that it
was
neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less of splendour, and more real
elegance, than the furniture of Rosings.
"And of this place,"
thought
she, "I might have been mistress! With these rooms I might now have
been
familiarly acquainted! Instead of viewing them as a stranger, I might
have
rejoiced in them as my own, and welcomed to them as visitors my uncle
and
aunt. But no,"
recollecting
herself-- "that could never be; my uncle and aunt would have been lost
to
me; I should not have been allowed to invite them."
This was a lucky
recollection-- it saved
her from something very like regret.
She
longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master was really
absent, but
had not the courage for it. At
length
however, the question was asked by her uncle; and she turned away with
alarm,
while Mrs. Reynolds replied that he was, adding, "But we expect him
to-morrow,
with a large party of friends." How
rejoiced was Elizabeth that their own journey had not by any
circumstance been
delayed a day!
Her aunt now called her
to look at a
picture. She
approached and saw the
likeness of Mr. Wickham, suspended, amongst several other miniatures,
over the
mantelpiece. Her
aunt asked her,
smilingly, 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, who had been brought up by him at
his own
expense. "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, but Elizabeth could not return it.
"And that," said Mrs.
Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures, "is my master-- and
very
like him. It was
drawn at the same time
as the other-- about eight years ago."
"I have heard much of
your master's
fine person," 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 respect
for Elizabeth
seemed to increase on this intimation of her knowing her master.
"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."
"I am sure I know none
so handsome;
but in the gallery upstairs you will see a finer, larger picture of him
than
this. This room was my late master's favourite room, and these
miniatures are
just as they used to be then. He
was
very fond of them."
This accounted to
Elizabeth for Mr.
Wickham's being among them.
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; and so accomplished!-- She plays and sings all
day
long. In the next
room is a new
instrument just come down for her-- a present from my master; she comes
here
to-morrow with him."
Mr. Gardiner, whose
manners were very
easy and pleasant, encouraged her communicativeness by his questions
and
remarks: Mrs.
Reynolds, either by pride
or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her master
and his
sister.
"Is your master much at
Pemberley
in the course of the year?"
"Not so much as I could
wish, sir;
but I dare say he may spend half his time here; and Miss Darcy is
always down
for the summer months."
"Except," thought
Elizabeth,
"when she goes to Ramsgate."
"If your master would
marry, you
might see more of him."
"Yes, sir; but I do not
know when
that will be. I do
not know who is good
enough for him."
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner
smiled. Elizabeth
could not help saying, "It is
very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so."
"I say no more than the
truth, and
everybody will say that knows him," replied the other.
Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far;
and she listened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added,
"I
have never known a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him
ever
since he was four years old."
This was praise, of all
others most
extraordinary, most opposite to her ideas. That he was not a
good-tempered man
had been her firmest opinion. Her
keenest attention was awakened; she longed to hear more, and was
grateful to
her uncle for saying:
"There are very few
people of whom
so much can be said. You
are lucky in
having such a master."
"Yes, sir, I know I am. If I were to go through
the world, I could
not meet with a better. But
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-- just as affable to the poor."
Elizabeth listened,
wondered, doubted,
and was impatient for more. Mrs.
Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subjects
of the
pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the furniture,
in vain,
Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family prejudice to which he
attributed her excessive commendation of her master, soon led again to
the
subject; and she dwelt with energy on his many merits as they proceeded
together up the great staircase.
"He is the best
landlord, and the
best master," said she, "that ever lived; not like the wild young men
nowadays, who think of nothing but themselves.
There is not one of his tenants or servants but will
give him a good
name. Some people
call him proud; but I
am sure I never saw anything of it.
To
my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young
men."
"In what an amiable
light does this
place him!" thought Elizabeth.
"This fine account of
him,"
whispered her aunt as they walked, "is not quite consistent with his
behaviour
to our poor friend."
"Perhaps we might be
deceived."
"That is not very
likely; our
authority was too good."
On reaching the spacious
lobby above
they were shown into a very pretty sitting-room, lately fitted up with
greater
elegance and lightness than the apartments below; and were informed
that it was
but just done to give pleasure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to
the
room when last at Pemberley.
"He is certainly a good
brother," said Elizabeth, as she walked towards one of the windows.
Mrs. Reynolds
anticipated Miss Darcy's
delight, when she should enter the room.
"And this is always the way with him," she added. "Whatever can give his
sister any
pleasure is sure to be done in a moment.
There is nothing he would not do for her."
The picture-gallery, and
two or three of
the principal bedrooms, were all that remained to be shown. In the former were many
good paintings; but
Elizabeth knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been already
visible
below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss
Darcy's, in
crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and also more
intelligible.
In the gallery there
were many family
portraits, but they could have little to fix the attention of a
stranger. Elizabeth
walked in quest of the only face
whose features would be known to her. At last it arrested her-- and she
beheld
a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy, with such a smile over the face as
she
remembered to have sometimes seen when he looked at her. She stood several minutes
before the picture,
in earnest contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted
the
gallery. Mrs.
Reynolds informed them
that it had been taken in his father's lifetime.
There was certainly at
this moment, in
Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle sensation towards the original than she
had
ever felt at the height of their acquaintance.
The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds
was of no trifling
nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise of an intelligent
servant? As a
brother, a landlord, a
master, she considered how many people's happiness were in his
guardianship!--
how much of pleasure or pain was it in his power to bestow!-- how much
of good
or evil must be done by him! Every
idea
that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his
character, and as she stood before the canvas on which he was
represented, and
fixed his eyes upon herself, she thought of his regard with a deeper
sentiment
of gratitude than it had ever raised before; she remembered its warmth,
and
softened its impropriety of expression.
When all of the house
that was open to
general inspection had been seen, they returned downstairs, and, taking
leave
of the housekeeper, were consigned over to the gardener, who met them
at the
hall-door.
As they walked across
the hall towards
the river, Elizabeth turned back to look again; her uncle and aunt
stopped
also, and while the former was conjecturing as to the date of the
building, the
owner of it himself suddenly came forward from the road, which led
behind it to
the stables.
They were within twenty
yards of each
other, and so abrupt was his appearance, that it was impossible to
avoid his
sight. Their eyes
instantly met, and the
cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest blush.
He absolutely started, and for a moment
seemed immovable from surprise; but shortly recovering himself,
advanced
towards the party, and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect
composure, at least of perfect civility.
She had instinctively
turned away; but
stopping on his approach, received his compliments with an
embarrassment
impossible to be overcome. Had
his first
appearance, or his resemblance to the picture they had just been
examining,
been insufficient to assure the other two that they now saw Mr. Darcy,
the
gardener's expression of surprise, on beholding his master, must
immediately
have told it. They
stood a little aloof
while he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and confused,
scarcely
dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answer she returned
to his
civil inquiries after her family. Amazed at the alteration of his
manner since
they last parted, every sentence that he uttered was increasing her
embarrassment; and every idea of the impropriety of her being found
there
recurring to her mind, the few minutes in which they continued were
some of the
most uncomfortable in her life. Nor
did
he seem much more at ease; when he spoke, his accent had none of its
usual sedateness;
and he repeated his inquiries as to the time of
her having left Longbourn, and of her having stayed
in Derbyshire, so
often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the distraction of his
thoughts.
At length every idea
seemed to fail him;
and, after standing a few moments without saying a word, he suddenly
recollected himself, and took leave.
The others then joined
her, and
expressed admiration of his figure; but Elizabeth heard not a word, and
wholly
engrossed by her own feelings, followed them in silence. She was overpowered by
shame and
vexation. Her
coming there was the most
unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the world! How strange it
must appear
to him! In what a
disgraceful light
might it not strike so vain a man!
It
might seem as if she had purposely thrown herself in his way again! Oh!
why did
she come? Or, why
did he thus come a day
before he was expected? Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they
should have
been beyond the reach of his discrimination; for it was plain that he
was that
moment arrived-- that moment alighted from his horse or his carriage. She blushed again and
again over the
perverseness of the meeting. And
his
behaviour, so strikingly altered-- what could it mean?
That he should even speak to her was
amazing!-- but to speak with such civility, to inquire after her family! Never in her life had she
seen his manners so
little dignified, never had he spoken with such gentleness as on this
unexpected meeting. What
a contrast did
it offer to his last address in Rosings Park, when he put his letter
into her
hand! She knew not
what to think, or how
to account for it.
They had now entered a
beautiful walk by
the side of the water, and every step was bringing forward a nobler
fall of
ground, or a finer reach of the woods to which they were approaching;
but it
was some time before Elizabeth was sensible of any of it; and, though
she
answered mechanically to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt,
and seemed
to direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed out, she
distinguished no
part of the scene. Her
thoughts were all
fixed on that one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where
Mr.
Darcy then was. She
longed to know what
at the moment was passing in his mind-- in what manner he thought of
her, and
whether, in defiance of everything, she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had been civil
only because he
felt himself at ease; yet there had been that in his voice which was
not like
ease. Whether he
had felt more of pain
or of pleasure in seeing her she could not tell, but he certainly had
not seen
her with composure.
At length, however, the
remarks of her
companions on her absence of mind aroused her, and she felt the
necessity of
appearing more like herself.
They entered the woods,
and bidding
adieu to the river for a while, ascended some of the higher grounds;
when, in
spots where the opening of the trees gave the eye power to wander, were
many
charming views of the valley, the opposite hills, with the long range
of woods
overspreading many, and occasionally part of the stream. Mr. Gardiner expressed a
wish of going round
the whole park, but feared it might be beyond a walk.
With a triumphant smile they were told that
it was ten miles round. It
settled the
matter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; which brought them
again,
after some time, in a descent among hanging woods, to the edge of the
water,
and one of its narrowest parts. They
crossed it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the
scene;
it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the
valley, here
contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the stream, and a narrow
walk
amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it.
Elizabeth longed to explore its windings; but
when they had crossed the bridge, and perceived their distance from the
house,
Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and
thought
only of returning to the carriage as quickly as possible. Her niece
was,
therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house
on the
opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their
progress was
slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to indulge the taste, was
very fond
of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching the occasional
appearance of
some trout in the water, and talking to the man about them, that he
advanced
but little. Whilst wandering on in this slow manner, they were again
surprised,
and Elizabeth's astonishment was quite equal to what it had been at
first, by
the sight of Mr. Darcy approaching them, and at no great distance. The walk here being here
less sheltered than
on the other side, allowed them to see him before they met. Elizabeth, however
astonished, was at least
more prepared for an interview than before, and resolved to appear and
to speak
with calmness, if he really intended to meet them. For a few moments,
indeed,
she felt that he would probably strike into some other path. The idea lasted while a
turning in the walk
concealed him from their view; the turning past, he was immediately
before them. With a
glance, she saw that he had lost none
of his recent civility; and, to imitate his politeness, she began as
they to
admire the beauty of the place; but she had not got beyond the words
"delightful," and "charming," when some unlucky
recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pemberley from
her might
be mischievously construed. Her
colour
changed, and she said no more.
Mrs. Gardiner was
standing a little
behind; and on her pausing, he asked her if she would do him the honour
of
introducing him to her friends. This
was
a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared; and she could
hardly
suppress a smile at his being now seeking the acquaintance of some of
those
very people against whom his pride had revolted in his offer to herself. "What will be his
surprise,"
thought she, "when he knows who they are?
He takes them now for people of fashion."
The introduction,
however, was
immediately made; and as she named their relationship to herself, she
stole a
sly look at him, to see how he bore it, and was not without the
expectation of
his decamping as fast as he could from such disgraceful companions. That he was surprised by
the connection was
evident; he sustained it, however, with fortitude, and so far from
going away,
turned his back with them, and entered into conversation with Mr.
Gardiner. Elizabeth
could not but be
pleased, could not but triumph. It
was
consoling that he should know she had some relations for whom there was
no need
to blush. She
listened most attentively
to all that passed between them, and gloried in every expression, every
sentence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence, his taste, or his
good
manners.
The conversation soon
turned upon
fishing; and she heard Mr. Darcy invite him, with the greatest
civility, to
fish there as often as he chose while he continued in the
neighbourhood,
offering at the same time to supply him with fishing tackle, and
pointing out
those parts of the stream where there was usually most sport. Mrs. Gardiner, who was
walking arm-in-arm
with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of wonder.
Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her
exceedingly; the compliment must be all for herself.
Her astonishment, however, was extreme, and
continually was she repeating, "Why is he so altered?
From what can it proceed?
It cannot be for me-- it cannot be for my
sake that his manners are thus softened.
My reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a change
as this. It is
impossible that he should still love
me."
After walking some time
in this way, the
two ladies in front, the two gentlemen behind, on resuming their
places, after
descending to the brink of the river for the better inspection of some
curious
water-plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. It originated in
Mrs.
Gardiner, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found
Elizabeth's arm
inadequate to her support, and consequently preferred her husband's. Mr. Darcy took her place
by her niece, and
they walked on together. After
a short
silence, the lady first spoke. She
wished him to know that she had been assured of his absence before she
came to
the place, and accordingly began by observing, that his arrival had
been very
unexpected-- "for your housekeeper," she added, "informed us
that you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before
we left Bakewell, we understood that you
were not immediately expected in the
country." He
acknowledged the truth
of it all, and said that business with his steward had occasioned his
coming
forward a few hours before the rest of the party with whom he had been
travelling. "They
will join me
early to-morrow ," he continued, "and among them are some who will
claim an acquaintance with you-- Mr. Bingley and his sisters."
Elizabeth answered only
by a slight bow. Her
thoughts were instantly driven back to
the time when Mr. Bingley's name had been the last mentioned between
them; and,
if she might judge by his complexion, his mind was not very differently
engaged.
"There is also one other
person in
the party," he continued after a pause, "who more particularly wishes
to be known to you. Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to
introduce my
sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?"
The surprise of such an
application was
great indeed; it was too great for her to know in what manner she
acceded to
it. She immediately
felt that whatever
desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her must be the
work of
her brother, and, without looking farther, it was satisfactory; it was
gratifying
to know that is resentment had not made him think really ill of her.
They now walked on in
silence, each of
them deep in thought. Elizabeth was not comfortable; that was
impossible; but
she was flattered and pleased. His
wish
of introducing his sister to her was a compliment of the highest kind.
They
soon outstripped the others, and when they had reached the carriage,
Mr. and
Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a mile behind.
He then asked her to
walk into the
house-- but she declared herself not tired, and they stood together on
the
lawn. At such a
time much might have
been said, and silence was very awkward.
She wanted to talk, but there seemed to be an
embargo on every
subject. At last
she recollected that
she had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dovedale with
great
perseverance. Yet
time and her aunt
moved slowly-- and her patience and her ideas were nearly worn our
before the
tete-a-tete was over. On
Mr. and Mrs.
Gardiner's coming up they were all pressed to go into the house and
take some
refreshment; but this was declined, and they parted on each side with
utmost
politeness. Mr.
Darcy handed the ladies
into the carriage; and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him walking
slowly towards
the house.
The observations of her
uncle and aunt
now began; and each of them pronounced him to be infinitely superior to
anything they had expected. "He
is
perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming," said her uncle.
"There is something a
little
stately in him, to be sure," replied her aunt, "but it is confined to
his air, and is not unbecoming. I
can
now say with the housekeeper, that though some people may call him
proud, I
have seen nothing of it."
"I was never more
surprised than by
his behaviour to us. It
was more than civil;
it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such attention. His acquaintance with
Elizabeth was very
trifling."
"To be sure, Lizzy,"
said her
aunt, "he is not so handsome as Wickham; or, rather, he has not
Wickham's
countenance, for his features are perfectly good.
But how came you to tell me that he was so
disagreeable?"
Elizabeth excused
herself as well as she
could; 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.
"But perhaps he may be a
little
whimsical in his civilities," replied her uncle.
"Your great men often are; and therefore
I shall not take him at his word, as he might change his mind another
day, and
warn me off his grounds."
Elizabeth felt that they
had entirely
misunderstood his character, but said nothing.
"From what we have seen
of
him," continued Mrs. Gardiner, "I really should not have thought that
he could have behaved in so cruel a way by anybody as he has done by
poor
Wickham. He has not
an ill-natured
look. On the
contrary, there is
something pleasing about his mouth when he speaks.
And there is something of dignity in his
countenance that would not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, the good
lady who showed us
his house did give him a most flaming character! I could hardly help
laughing
aloud sometimes. But
he is a liberal
master, I suppose, and that in the eye of a servant comprehends every
virtue."
Elizabeth here felt
herself called on to
say something in vindication of his behaviour to Wickham; and therefore
gave
them to understand, in as guarded a manner as she could, that by what
she had
heard from his relations in Kent, his actions were capable of a very
different
construction; and that his character was by no means so faulty, nor
Wickham's
so amiable, as they had been considered in Hertfordshire. In confirmation of this,
she related the
particulars of all the pecuniary transactions in which they had been
connected,
without actually naming her authority, but stating as such as might be
relied
on.
Mrs. Gardiner was
surprised and
concerned; but as they were now approaching the scene of her former
pleasures,
every idea gave way to the charm of recollection; and she was too much
engaged
in pointing out to her husband all the interesting spots in its
environs to
think of anything else. Fatigued
as she
had been by the morning's walk they had no sooner dined than she set
off again
in quest of her former acquaintance, and the evening was spent in the
satisfactions of a intercourse renewed after many years' discontinuance.
The occurrences of the
day were too full
of interest to leave Elizabeth much attention for any of these new
friends; and
she could do nothing but think, and think with wonder, of Mr. Darcy's
civility,
and, above all, of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister.
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