Recap: Due to an epidemic of scarlet fever, which kills Mr. Bennet and Mary, the oldest Bennet daughters' stay at Netherfield is extended (November 1811). Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy strike up a cold and dysfunctional tactile relationship, before he leaves suddenly for London, frightened by the strength of his feelings for her (December 1811). After reconnecting with Mr. Darcy at Rosings, Elizabeth becomes alarmed by his attentions. He finally confronts her when she is alone at the parsonage and proposes (April 1812). He is disbelieving of her refusal. Their argument soon develops into a passionate, but angry, kiss and they have intercourse for the first time in Elizabeth's bedroom. During the act, Kitty and Mr. Collins come home and Darcy must hastily hide under the bed from Kitty. He overhears the ladies disparaging him and he and Elizabeth argue again once Kitty leaves. They fight over Wickham and Darcy's involvement in Bingley leaving Netherfield. Darcy accuses Elizabeth of using him to satisfy her baser urges and she begins to feel sorry for this. Her attempt at apology, however, involves another kiss. Darcy refuses to continue until he can clarify her feelings for him. She is blunt in her dislike of his haughty behaviour and he leaves declaring he will never see her again. He has Colonel Fitzwilliam deliver a letter to her the next day in which he explains his involvement with Wickham and Bingley. The pair leaves the next day and Elizabeth leaves Kent a fortnight later. Elizabeth and Jane both return home to Longbourn where Elizabeth tells her about her affair with Darcy. Jane is initially angry, but tries to see the problem from both sides. She is convinced of Darcy's love for Elizabeth, but Elizabeth is still sceptical. They have a conversation in bed at night, in which Jane, criticises Elizabeth's treatment of Darcy.
Chapter 17
Elizabeth's thoughts, the next morning, could not be contained within the four walls of Longbourn and she spent hours roaming out of doors, sifting through all that had been said the day before. She had had plenty of time to contemplate her ruination; enjoyed wallowing in the finality of it. After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every variety of thought: re-considering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to her actions, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence, made her at length turn for home. Her feelings were ambivalent; she could not bring herself to completely regret her activities, but as long as there were no adverse consequences, and she was did not have to again confront the man involved, she would, she now decided, finally put it behind her. She soon entered the house with the wish of appearing cheerful, and surprised herself in finding that she was so.
The next three months were spent in the usual pursuits of the season. Days were filled with gardening and cutting flowers when the weather was fine, and pickling cucumbers from the greenhouse, sewing, and conversation when it was not. Evenings were occupied with music and reading aloud from Mr. Bennet's fossilised library. With the blossoming of summer, Elizabeth found her spirits returning in a way that hadn't seemed possible since her father's death and Jane's exasperating solicitousness soon diminished. Though Elizabeth still occasionally felt the need to escape- to sit at her father's grave with a posy of flowers- she was not overwhelmed by it and the shroud, which had for so long separated her from her family, began to lift.
The Bennet daughters exited mourning in May, finally giving up the grey and lavender gowns to which they had been for some months confined. Lydia was delighted with this, and her sisters were happy not to witness her antics juxtaposed with her sombre attire. Mrs. Bennet had had enough of mourning too. She would not be left behind and six months of that was good enough in her opinion. Any little restraint in her social activities that she had still maintained, she abandoned altogether, along with her black dresses (1).
The militia was still with them. They would remain later into the summer than was originally planned, having arrived after their time, and the town in general was delighted to have them. The officers were billeted in the inns of Meryton and the traders of the town welcomed the increase in commerce. Colonel Forster had not been remiss in recruiting only the most statuesque and handsome of youths (2) and the dashing young blades filled out their scarlet uniforms admirably, while fulfilling their primary responsibilities of attending to drills, dances and suppers- with only a trifle more weight placed on the former.
Lydia had been invited to join Mrs. Forster in their camp at Brighton later in the summer. She was desperate to go and Mrs. Bennet sympathised. Alas, even her undying optimism in the face of any possible amusement was dampened when Jane and Elizabeth took it upon themselves to elucidate the minutiae of the expenses required. After comparing them to their allowance for the quarter, Mrs. Bennet initially stood firm in her irrational belief that they could 'make do' at home for Lydia's sake. She was only convinced when Elizabeth questioned how Lydia would feel to be seen at a regimental ball, so visibly impoverished that she could not even afford to replace her soiled kid gloves. It could not be said that Lydia accepted her circumstances with any degree of grace, but she soon became desperate to wring every occasion for pleasure from the presence of the militia before they were to leave in August (3).
Elizabeth's life was about to gain some colour in the form of a tour of several counties in the North, culminating in an extended circuit of the Lake District. She was to be the companion of Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner on their travels, which was very convenient as they were the only people, other than Jane, with whom she could possibly bare to spend six weeks together.
The time fixed for their departure was fast approaching when a letter from Mrs. Gardiner informed Elizabeth that their tour would at once be curtailed and delayed: they would have to content themselves with going no further North than Derbyshire. That word sent a jolt through Elizabeth on reading it- ridiculous. Was a whole county to be off limits because of one man living in it? No, she would not be intimidated! Surely she could slip in and look around without him being any the wiser. She was disappointed to lose out on seeing the Lakes, but it was her business to be satisfied, however, and Elizabeth soon contented herself with the thought that Derbyshire would have many beauties.
While her acquaintance with Mr. Wickham had undoubtedly cooled since their confrontation in the garden, she was not so reckless as to cut him directly: that would raise too many questions. So Elizabeth tolerated his presence, even allowed him to approach her on occasion, but they both knew the boundaries that had been set. Mr. Wickham never again mentioned Mr. Darcy in her presence; though, neither did he retract or refute the tales that he had told about town. Mr. Darcy was not well liked.
Another reason for keeping Mr. Wickham close was to distract him from Lydia, who was enamoured of the officer and bold in showing it. No amount of sermon-making or appeals to her good sense could curb Lydia's behaviour and Mrs. Bennet was deaf to all entreaties to intervene- Lydia deserved her fun while the regiment was in town, for who knew when they would see another? As long as Elizabeth was there to oversee their interactions, the threat of a lecture was the only deterrent from frivolity and flirtation, ineffective though it often proved to be.
On hearing that she was bound for Derbyshire, Mr. Wickham offered Elizabeth a stilted farewell, probably glad to be rid of her, and obviously wishing— but not daring— to comment on whom she might find there.
At length, Elizabeth's anticipation was satisfied and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner arrived with their four children, who were to be left under the particular care of Jane while their parents were away- an advantageous arrangement for all involved: Jane was in dire need of the distraction.
The Gardiners stayed a week at Longbourn, visiting with their sister, whom they had not seen since her bereavement, before the trio set off in pursuit of novelty and amusement. Elizabeth's enjoyment of the coming expedition would surely be multiplied by the cheerful company of two such agreeable companions.
Oxford, Bleinheim, Warwick and Kenelworth all delighted and were forgotten in that haze that holidays assume. One sight blurred into the next until, after a fortnight, the travellers could not recall more than half a dozen highlights, jumbled together, and were eager to settle in one town for more than a few days together. With this in mind, the Gardiners and Elizabeth bent their steps for Lambton, a little market town, once the residence of Mrs. Gardiner. Elizabeth went reluctantly once she learned that Lambton was within five miles of Pemberley.
Once situated in The Red Bull Inn, Mrs. Gardiner set to arranging their itinerary. She wished to visit a number of her acquaintances who, she had lately learned, still remained in the town, but she also expressed an inclination to visit Pemberley. Mr. Gardiner was perfectly willing and Elizabeth was applied to for her approbation.
"My love, should you not like to see a place of which you have heard so much?" asked her aunt.
Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She owned that she was tired of fine houses, though had no reply when her aunt assured her of its delightful grounds and fine woods.
The possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy while viewing the place, instantly occurred. It would be dreadful! She blushed at the very idea and thought that, as a last resource, it would be better to speak openly to her aunt than to run such a risk. Her aunt was set on the scheme, however.
As was Mr. Gardiner. He unwittingly aided Elizabeth at dinner, however, by asking the maid whether Pemberley were not a fine place and whether the family were at home for the summer. A most welcome negative followed the latter. Her alarms being now removed- and seeing no pressing reason to refuse, other than her own discomfort- when the subject was again raised the next morning, and she was again applied to, Elizabeth could readily answer with a proper air of indifference that she had not really any dislike for the scheme. And so to Pemberley she would go with, if not unadulterated enthusiasm, then at least a great deal of curiosity.
Elizabeth was all perturbation as they set out the next morning in their hired barouche-landau (4). She watched for the first appearance of the famed Pemberley woods and, when at length they turned into the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter. They entered at one of the lowest points and drove for some time through a beautiful wood, surrounded by mature trees and gnarled roots. Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable view and the carriage's open top presented it at its most pleasing in the summer sunshine. They gradually ascended for half a mile and then found themselves at a break in the trees on top of a considerable eminence. The eye was instantly drawn to the sight of Pemberley House in the distance. It was a large handsome building, standing well on rising ground, surrounded by wooded hills and, in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal nor falsely adorned. An expanse of lawn around it accentuated the elegance of the architecture. Elizabeth was delighted. They were all warm in their admiration and at that moment, she felt that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!
They had descended the road towards the house, losing sight of it as they did so. The park was very large, containing a great variety of ground, and their carriage followed the lane onto open ground; their only interruption, the odd sheep in the road, free to roam before the ha-ha (5).
Now that they approached the house, all of Elizabeth's anxieties returned. She dreaded lest the chambermaid had been mistaken and, as the carriage drew up towards the door, she expected every moment that the master of the house would burst through it and banish her from his estate.
They were admitted into the hall, by a pair of fresh-faced footmen- less imposing than those in Lady Catherine's employ, but less dour also (6). At length they were met by the housekeeper. Mrs. Reynolds was a brisk, older woman, much less fine and more civil than Elizabeth had had any notion of finding her.
They followed her into the dining parlour (7). It was a fine room, large and well-proportioned, and handsomely decorated. Elizabeth was drawn to the window, by the glint of the sun on the water and, while the others listened to Mrs. Reynolds' proud and sometimes edifying commentary, Elizabeth enjoyed the prospect. 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 moved into other rooms- each connecting in a passage through the length of the house- the view altered and from every window there were beauties to be seen. Every frame showed a prospect that could have been composed by an artist.
The rooms were lofty and handsome, with furniture apposite to the rank of their 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.
She had not the courage to ask the housekeeper whether her master was at home, though she longed to. At length, however, the question was put by her aunt. Elizabeth turned away in panic, seeking refuge in the portrait of some no-doubt- exalted ancestor, in a frock coat and elaborate wig.
Her anxiety was allayed momentarily by the housekeeper's assurance that Mr. Darcy was not in residence, but peaked a moment later with the declaration that, "We expect him tomorrow, with a large party of friends." Elizabeth hardly knew whether to rejoice that they had not for any reason been delayed, or to agonise at the near thing it had been that she might have been seen by him, inspecting the contents of his father's study.
"And that," said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to a miniature among a collection, as she continued her patter, "is my master- and very like him it is too. It was drawn about eight years ago, when the late Mr. Darcy was alive."
Elizabeth could have confirmed the portrait's likeness to the original, had she wished to make known her acquaintance with the man, but she detected differences, also, between the current Mr. Darcy and that in the picture. His face had been rounder, more youthful, yet the serious mien for which he was known surrounded him even then.
"It is a handsome face. Is it much like the original, Lizzy?" asked Mrs. Gardiner looking at the portrait.
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," endeavouring not to betray how intimately she did know him.
Mrs. Reynolds' surprise on learning that Elizabeth was familiar with the master was matched only by her complacence when she asked "And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma'am?"
"Yes, very handsome." She saw an image of that face, beaming up at her with a boyish smile and dimpled cheeks, while his hair stood out in all directions.
"I am sure I know none so handsome," Mrs Reynolds continued, "but in the gallery upstairs you will see a finer, larger picture of him than this."
Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn when she was only eight years old.
"And this is Miss Darcy- in earlier years. She is now quite grown up and the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so accomplished! She plays and sings all day long. That is a new instrument in the corner, just come down for her. It is a present from my master; she comes here tomorrow with him."
Elizabeth had never really thought of Miss Darcy as a real person, but here, faced with her portrait and surrounded by her things, she began to imagine this girl, whom she had made presumptions about or dismissed, in turn; a girl whom Mr. Darcy must look upon as a surrogate daughter, as much as a sister. One he was very generous with, it seemed. Miss Darcy had had her own experiences with a man. Elizabeth wondered how her protective elder brother would feel had Wickham done half to his sister, what he had, to her.
Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were easy and pleasant, encouraged Mrs. Reynolds' communicativeness by his questions and remarks; Mrs Reynolds, either from 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 would wish, sir."
"If your master would marry, you might see more of him," Mr. Gardiner prodded.
"Yes, sir; but I do not know when that will be. I do not know who is good enough for him." Elizabeth lowered her head at that moment, not willing to meet anyone's eye.
She could not, however, help saying a few moments later, "It is very much to his credit, that you should think so."
"I say no more than the truth, and what 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 had a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old." Even taking this as hyperbole, it suggested an experience that was most opposite to her own ideas of the man. That he was not a good-tempered man had been her firmest belief and almost universal experience. Her keenest attention was now awakened; she longed to hear more, and was grateful to her uncle for commenting on Mrs. Reynolds' luck at having such a master.
"Yes, sir: If I were to go through the world, I could not meet with a better. He was always the sweetest-tempered most generous-hearted boy in the world."
This was bordering on farcical to Elizabeth. And yet, she could not see even the most loyal servant painting her master in such a positive light- unsolicited- were she not truly fond of the man. Could anyone be fond of Mr. Darcy? The idea seemed ludicrous to her. She could easily imagine him being respected, esteemed for his status and intelligence, but affection required some softness between the parties to germinate; openness and a sort of parity that she could not see Mr. Darcy admitting. And yet, this woman, showed every indication of caring for the man. Miss Darcy must be tolerably attached to him, also, if he were always spoiling her as Mrs. Reynolds suggested. And she had seen with her own eyes the esteem in which Mr. Bingley held his friend- esteem rooted in a mutual warm regard.
"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 in wonder and was impatient for more, but Mrs. Reynolds had moved on, addressing the subjects of the pictures, the furnishings and the history of the house.
She was fortunate that Mrs. Reynolds and herself were of an accord on one matter, and by oblique inquiry, the housekeeper was led back to the subject that would most interest them both. She dwelt with energy on Mr. Darcy's many merits as the party proceeded 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 what 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."
This last raised an unexpected smile in Elizabeth. Indeed, whatever other faults he had, Mr. Darcy never did rattle away.
"This fine account of him," whispered her aunt later "is not quite consistent with what we know of his behaviour." She was referring to Wickham's stories, with which Lydia had so kindly furnished her.
"Perhaps we might have been deceived, there," Elizabeth replied.
They were shown into a very pretty sitting-room, in the Chinese style, more light and elegant than the rest of the house, and were informed that it had been lately re-done to give pleasure to Miss Darcy.
"He certainly is a good brother," Elizabeth commented.
"And this is always the way with him, Mrs. Reynolds replied, "Whatever can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There is nothing he would not do for her."
Their tour was to conclude in the picture gallery. Each piece had a story that Mrs. Reynolds was happy to tell, but Elizabeth wanted none of theher famous artists and distinguished ancestors. There were a number of drawings of Miss Darcy's, however, whose subjects and artist were more interesting to her than any of the great masters on display. She had to concur with that lady's brother that she had talent, and Elizabeth was surprised by the wit and humour demonstrated in the portraits, including a charming sketch of her brother playing with a hound.
Elizabeth walked on in quest of the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it arrested her, as she stood before the canvas on which he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon herself. The brown eyes that observed her bore a striking resemblance to the real thing and the face wore a smile that she remembered to have sometimes seen when he looked at her. She thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude, at that moment, than it had ever raised before; she remembered its warmth, and softened, a little, its enormous impropriety of expression.
She stood several minutes before the picture in earnest contemplation- only moving on to avoid drawing her companions' suspicions. Had she the time and privacy, she could not have said how long would be long enough to puzzle its enigma.
There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more benevolent sensation towards the original than she had ever felt in the height of their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than that of an intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, she considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship; how much pleasure or pain it was 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.
How could Elizabeth not question her unpleasant picture of the man, when so much evidence to the contrary presented itself. She searched her own experience to confirm or deny this new portrait of Darcy as a benevolent master, interested landowner, and loving brother.
When they had seen all of the house that was open to the public, the tour was passed to the care of the gardener- a wiry man, who clearly felt the same pride in the gardens as Mrs. Reynolds did in the house. To begin, they were brought around the walled garden, on a lower level than the house itself.
Mr. Gardiner expressed a wish of going round the whole park, but, with a triumphant smile, they were told it was ten miles round. That settled the matter and they agreed to instead remain near the house. He then took them along a track climbing up the wooded hill at the back of the house. Their path was wound so easily through the trees around them, and the vegetation, managed in so sympathetic and unobtrusive a manner, that it seemed that the woods had parted of its own inclination to let them pass.
The unaffected lushness of the forest was only enhanced and its unstudied roughness complemented by the view of the house that an occasional opening in the trees allowed them.
In viewing Pemberley from afar, Elizabeth was again struck by how very great it was. How fitting Mr. Darcy's pride now seemed, when she considered its origins. And how very ill-prepared must he have been to receive a negative to his offer to her, considering his heritage and residence. For the first time, she felt a glimmer of the pity for him that she had sarcastically expressed to Jane.
"And of this place," thought she as she looked down on it, "I might have been mistress! I might now have welcomed my aunt and uncle as guests. 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 like regret. She had never thought herself mercenary; Rosings held no appeal for her, but this place was magical. There was a harmony between the land and the house, the house and the staff; and the staff and the family- if her impression so far was correct. To call this place home would be something, indeed.
When they again found themselves on level ground and the trees gave way to lawn, they began, by wordless accord, to pursue a course towards the front of the house and along the river. They entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water; every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, as they followed the unadorned bank.
The Gardiners, engaged with the gardener in a discussion of the fishing, made slow progress. Elizabeth left them to it, continuing down the embankment until she reached the part of the river where it began to expand. So intent was she on the water before her that she did not, at first, see the owner of it himself as he unexpectedly appeared. He came from around a bend in the river's course, where his presence had been obscured by the low hanging branches of a large tree.
They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his arrival that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes instantly met and the cheeks of each were coloured with the deepest blush. Mr. Darcy's state of dishabille made clear that he had just emerged from the very river that Elizabeth had lately been studying. His lawn shirt clung to his torso in a lucent sheath and every part of him dripped. In his hands he carried his hat and coat, and his neck was bare. He absolutely started and for a moment seemed immovable from surprise.
Elizabeth momentarily registered the absurdity of it. All that she had done with this man, and yet she had never seen him so scarcely attired as he was now. She was in an agony of imagination and anticipation. His last words spoken to her were that he would never see her again and his letter the next day had concluded with a cold, if begrudgingly civil farewell, without negating his former intention. Now here she was- the woman who had manipulated and jilted him- touring his house and enjoying his gardens. What must he think of me! Shortly, Mr. Darcy recovered himself and advanced towards her. Elizabeth held her breath as he spoke with perfect civility, though imperfect composure.
It was her turn to start. So unprepared was she for his courteous inquiries that she hardly knew how she answered. She received his attentions with embarrassment, ever increasing with each gracious sentence and kindly inquiry he uttered. The pair maintained a stilted conversation, repeating the same enquiries and polite sentiments in an effort to forestall the silence. Elizabeth, though glad not to be summarily dismissed from his land, could not have felt more wretched about her own past conduct, than when presented with this gentle man.
Nor did he seem much more at ease. When he spoke, his accent had none of its characteristic sedateness and he repeated his enquiries as to the time of her having left Longbourn, and of her stay in Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the distraction of his thoughts.
He inquired after her family and then after herself more particularly. "And you? Are you… in good health?" His meaning was not lost on her and she mumbled her assurances that she was indeed well, hoping that her meaning was equally transparent.
She did endeavour to convince him that they had not been expecting him to be at home, and that they shouldn't have dreamt of invading his privacy had they known he would be there, but then she thought the better of appearing to be wishing for his absence and fell silent. Darcy was determined to be civil, and filled the void by explaining his early arrival, as being due to business with his steward.
At length, however, even the most enthusiastic of conversationalists could not have stretched the civilities any further and every idea seemed to fail him. The pair fell into an agitated muteness on both sides, only punctuated by the drip of water from Mr. Darcy's forelock.
By this time, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had caught up with them, but stood aloof from the pair. They had recognised Mr. Darcy, despite his informal attire, by the gardener's exclamation of surprise at seeing his master. Aware of there now being an audience to her shame, Elizabeth felt that this interview was one of the most awkward of her life. Mr. Darcy, at this point, recollected himself and took his leave, striding up the hill towards the house.
The Gardiners joined her, having dismissed the man and Mrs. Gardiner, still watching Mr. Darcy's retreat, expressed her admiration for his fine figure, in such warm terms that her husband felt pressed to object. As the pair joked, Elizabeth heard not a word. Her first intelligible thought was that they must leave and this she expressed to her aunt and uncle before outstripping them and bounding up the knoll towards the path. Her coming was the most ill-judged thing in the world! She tormented herself, thinking of how her presence there must appear to him: that she was throwing herself in his way to re-exert her power over him.
Oh, why was he here? Why hadn't he kept to his plans? Had they been but ten minutes sooner, they would have been beyond his reach. She blushed again and again at his finding her here. And his behaviour, so strikingly altered- what could it mean? That he should even speak to her was incredible, but his pains to put her at ease went beyond anything she could expect of him- inquiring after her family, concerning himself over her health. She had never seen his manners so little dignified and so considerate. What a contrast did it offer to his leave taking at Rosings. She knew not what to think or how to account for this gentleness in him.
Nor could she help herself from wondering at his feelings on meeting her and whether, in defiance of everything, she was still dear to him. Regardless whether there had been more of pain or pleasure in the experience, there certainly had been no serenity, on either side, and Elizabeth would not allow a repeat of the ordeal for either of them.
Elizabeth had at this point crested the rise and reached the level ground around the house, her aunt and uncle hurrying in her wake. She was presently about to jump into the carriage, to the bewilderment of the groom, when hurried steps on the stone of the courtyard caught her attention. Mr. Darcy was once again striding towards them through an arched portico. He had obviously readied himself in a hurry, but his man had done him credit: he wore a dark coat and the only evidence of his haste was his wet hair and the simple knot in his cravat.
The terse manner of his calling "Miss Bennet!" to her retreating back, caused her to flinch and she momentarily feared his rancour had returned. His manner exhibited a certain restrained panic of which she could not but be wary. His manner, on reaching her, however- harried, but solicitous- proved that his good humour had not yet dissipated.
Her astonishment only increased on his asking to be introduced to her companions. She made no effort to conceal their station and watched him closely. This would be a test of this new benevolence. That he was surprised at the connection was clear, but she could not fault his civility and, having found willing companions in the Gardiners, Mr. Darcy stood on the gravel in conversation with them. Any discomfort he felt seemed to be on her account, rather than her relations. Towards them he was gracious and attentive; towards her he was circumspect. He spoke more to Mr. Gardiner than anyone else, having at once recognised that gentleman's intelligence, taste and good manners- Elizabeth had, for once, cause to be proud of her relations. She could not say that he was completely easy, but Mr. Darcy's eagerness to speak and to listen was evident, and his manner began to relax as he became acquainted with the couple, and began to sense her approbation of his behaviour. When he occasionally turned to direct some remark in her direction, his soft eyes jarred Elizabeth's composure.
The subject turned to fishing and the gentlemen were soon discussing bait and tackle. Mr. Darcy directed them back to the river, to show her uncle the best spots, after surprising them all by issuing an invitation to avail of his stocks. Their carriage was directed to meet them at the lake.
During the walk, Mrs. Gardiner, who had come to be walking ahead with Elizabeth felt the need of her husband's, arm and Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were thrown together. He took the opportunity- after she again apologised for the imposition of their presence- to request that he be allowed to introduce his sister to her acquaintance (8).
Of all his actions that day, this was the most surprising. She had been prepared to admit that he did not resent her, had forgiven her her selfish actions, but to introduce his sister to her, given her previous conduct, showed a level of magnanimity that she could never have given him credit for. Did she know this man at all? She had fancied that this great change must have been a show for her benefit, but now she considered that she had never understood Mr. Darcy in the first place.
Their carriage was waiting on the lane, near the lake and the pair waited there for the others. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were quite a distance behind them and it was an awkward number of minutes that they spent, standing together on the lawn. He urged her to take a seat in the carriage while she waited and she politely refused. Elizabeth searched for a topic of conversation, but every subject seemed to evoke memories and sentiments best forgotten. At last, she when they were reunited, to return to the house and take refreshment, but Mrs. Gardiner, with a discerning glance at her niece, recognised the alarm in her features and delicately declined. When he had handed her into the carriage and they had moved off, Elizabeth turned back to see him walking slowly towards the house.
The journey back to Lambton was filled with her relations' impressions of Mr. Darcy. They appreciated his polite and unassuming manners and the nearest they could divine of the rumours of his aloofness was a certain 'stately' air, which was no fault. Mrs. Gardiner enjoyed relating her favourable impression of his countenance and stature, this time with the intention of rousing her niece, rather than her husband.
Footnotes:
1 As a widow, Mrs. Bennet should have spent 1 year in mourning, six months of which in full black gowns. Now she should be transitioning to wearing dark colours, or a mixture of black and white. However, mourning rules were not as strictly enforced as in the Victorian era.
2 The Militia was the Home Guard of the time. As they were very unlikely to see action, most regiments selected their recruits for their tall, slim stature and youthful good looks to improve the look of their regiment and therefore its prestige: Fashion in the Time of Jane Austen, Downing, S.J. (2010)
3 In P&P, the militia leave for Brighton at the end of May. In my story, they arrived months later than in the book, because of the cases of scarlet fever in the area, and so I have them leaving later as well.
4 This is the vehicle that the Gardiners and Elizabeth take to Pemberley in the 1995 adaptation. It's top, which opens in the middle and folds back, makes it a good vehicle to use for summer sightseeing. Austenblog has published a very interesting article on the carriages of P&P and the social and character details that they provide: /2010/07/02/a-closer-look-at-carriages-and-characters-in-pride-and-prejudice/
5 The ha-ha is a sunken wall, or fence, that prevented livestock from crossing the park to the gardens, but at the same time allowing the observer the illusion that the grounds were seamlessly connected. It was so named, because viewers would react with both surprise and laughter when they realised it had deceived them: Jane Austen's Town and Country Style; Watkins, Sue; 1990;
6 I have always had the idea that footmen were the layabouts of the great house, getting away with murder and generally just standing around and looking snappy. They were picked primarily for appearance and 'evaluated on the basis of the appearance of their calves in silk stocking'. It was considered absurd to have a pair of footmen who didn't match in limited research has given me a lot more empathy for the poor footman, however. They rose at the crack of dawn and worked till 11.00 at night as a Jack of all Trades, pretty much non-stop. In one account a footman who fainted and was interviewed by the doctor, said that he had not had a day off in six months and had not had a holiday or seen his family in three years: Household Management, Margaret Willes; The National Trust (1996) 2008/01/24/footmen-male-servants-in-the-regency-era/
7 It was the custom for housekeepers of great houses to open the house to the public if the family were away. Sometimes tours were even conducted with the family at home. The qualifications for access were the appearance of gentility- you had to look like you could afford the tip for the housekeeper. This was a nice side income for her. Tourists may also have had to pay other servants, such as the gardener: A Fine House Richly Furnished: Pemberley and the Visiting of Country Houses.
8 People of a lower social class were always introduced to those of a higher class, so this is a massive compliment to Elizabeth: he's saying that she is equal to them. The exception to this rule is that men were always introduced to women, no matter the station, which explains why he asks to be introduced to Mrs. Gardiner in the book.
Thanks to Myshlp for Beta-ing and to everyone who has taken the time to read and review.
