Pride and Prejudice
case _here_. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not
such a one as will allow of frequent journeys--and I am persuaded my
friend would not call herself _near_ her family under less than _half_
the present distance.”
Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, “_You_ cannot
have a right to such very strong local attachment. _You_ cannot have
been always at Longbourn.”
Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman experienced some change of
feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and,
glancing over it, said, in a colder voice,--
“Are you pleased with Kent?”
A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side
calm and concise--and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte
and her sister, just returned from their walk. The _tête-à-tête_
surprised them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his
intruding on Miss Bennet, and, after sitting a few minutes longer,
without saying much to anybody, went away.
“What can be the meaning of this?” said Charlotte, as soon as he was
gone. “My dear Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never
have called on us in this familiar way.”
But when Elizabeth told of his silence, it did not seem very likely,
even to Charlotte’s wishes, to be the case; and, after various
conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from
the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable
from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there
was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard table, but gentlemen cannot be
always within doors; and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the
pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the
two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither
almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes
separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their
aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he
had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended
him still more; and Elizabeth was reminded by her own satisfaction in
being with him, as well as by his evident admiration, of her former
favourite, George Wickham; and though, in comparing them, she saw there
was less captivating softness in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s manners, she
believed he might have the best informed mind.
But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage it was more difficult
to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there
ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it
seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice--a sacrifice to
propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really
animated. Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel
Fitzwilliam’s occasionally laughing at his stupidity proved that he was
generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told
her; and as she would have liked to believe this change the effect of
love, and the object of that love her friend Eliza, she set herself
seriously to work to find it out: she watched him whenever they were at
Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He
certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that
look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often
doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it
seemed nothing but absence of mind.
She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his
being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs.
Collins did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of
raising expectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her
opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend’s dislike would
vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power.
In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, she sometimes planned her marrying
Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was, beyond comparison, the pleasantest man: he
certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but,
to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage
in the church, and his cousin could have none at all.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the park,
unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the
mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought; and, to
prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him, at first,
that it was a favourite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time,
therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and even the third. It seemed like
wilful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance; for on these occasions it was
not merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away,
but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He
never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking
or of listening much; but it struck her in the course of their third
encounter that he was asking some odd unconnected questions--about her
pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her
opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins’s happiness; and that in speaking of
Rosings, and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to
expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying
_there_ too. His words seemed to imply it. Could he have Colonel
Fitzwilliam in his thoughts? She supposed, if he meant anything, he must
mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. It distressed her
a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the
pales opposite the Parsonage.
She was engaged one day, as she walked, in re-perusing Jane’s last
letter, and dwelling on some passages which proved that Jane had not
written in spirits, when, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy,
she saw, on looking up, that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her.
Putting away the letter immediately, and forcing a smile, she said,--
“I did not know before that you ever walked this way.”
“I have been making the tour of the park,” he replied, “as I generally
do every year, and intended to close it with a call at the Parsonage.
Are you going much farther?”
“No, I should have turned in a moment.”
And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage
together.
“Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?” said she.
“Yes--if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He
arranges the business just as he pleases.”
“And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least
great pleasure in the power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems
more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy.”
“He likes to have his own way very well,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than
many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak
feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and
dependence.”
“In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of
either. Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and
dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going
wherever you chose or procuring anything you had a fancy for?”
“These are home questions--and perhaps I cannot say that I have
experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater
weight, I may suffer from the want of money. Younger sons cannot marry
where they like.”
“Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often
do.”
“Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in
my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to
money.”
“Is this,” thought Elizabeth, “meant for me?” and she coloured at the
idea; but, recovering herself, said in a lively tone, “And pray, what is
the usual price of an earl’s younger son? Unless the elder brother is
very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds.”
He answered her in the same style, and the subject dropped. To interrupt
a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed,
she soon afterwards said,--
“I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of
having somebody at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a
lasting convenience of that kind. But, perhaps, his sister does as well
for the present; and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he
likes with her.”
“No,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “that is an advantage which he must
divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy.”
“Are you, indeed? And pray what sort of a guardian do you make? Does
your charge give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age are sometimes
a little difficult to manage; and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she
may like to have her own way.”
As she spoke, she observed him looking at her earnestly; and the manner
in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy likely to
give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other
got pretty near the truth. She directly replied,--
“You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her; and I dare
say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is a
very great favourite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and
Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you know them.”
“I know them a little. Their brother is a pleasant, gentlemanlike
man--he is a great friend of Darcy’s.”
“Oh yes,” said Elizabeth drily--“Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr.
Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him.”
“Care of him! Yes, I really believe Darcy _does_ take care of him in
those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me
in our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted
to him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose
that Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture.”
“What is it you mean?”
“It is a circumstance which Darcy of course could not wish to be
generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady’s family it
would be an unpleasant thing.”
“You may depend upon my not mentioning it.”
“And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be
Bingley. What he told me was merely this: that he congratulated himself
on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most
imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other
particulars; and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him
the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from
knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer.”
“Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?”
“I understood that there were some very strong objections against the
lady.”
“And what arts did he use to separate them?”
“He did not talk to me of his own arts,” said Fitzwilliam, smiling. “He
only told me what I have now told you.”
Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with
indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she
was so thoughtful.
“I am thinking of what you have been telling me,” said she. “Your
cousin’s conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the
judge?”
“You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?”
“I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his
friend’s inclination; or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to
determine and direct in what manner that friend was to be happy. But,”