Pride and Prejudice
“And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?” said Mr. 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 easy and pleasant, encouraged her
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 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 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.”
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 now-a-days, 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.”
“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 bed-rooms, 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 on in quest
of the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it
arrested her--and she beheld a striking resemblance of 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 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 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 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; 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 down stairs; and, taking leave of the housekeeper, were
consigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall door.
As they walked across the lawn 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 each 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 together were some of the most
uncomfortable of 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 stay
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 their 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 must it 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 that 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
roused 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; whence, 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,