Volume III, Chapter I

VOLUME III

CHAPTER I

Edward, 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, his 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.

Edward's mind was too full for conversation, but he 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. Edward was delighted. He 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 he felt, that to be master 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 his apprehensions of meeting its owner returned. He dreaded lest the chambermaid had been mistaken. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the hall; and Edward, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to wonder at his being where he was.

The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking, elderly woman, much less fine, and more civil, than he had any notion of finding her. They followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well-proportioned room, handsomely fitted up. Edward, after slightly surveying it, went to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, from which they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and he looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as he 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 their proprietor; but Edward 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 with these rooms,' thought he, 'I might now have been familiarly acquainted! Instead of viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them almost as my own, and welcomed to them as visitors my uncle and aunt.—But no,'—recollecting himself,—'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 him from something like regret.

He longed to inquire of the housekeeper, whether her master was really absent, but had not courage for it. At length, however, the question was asked by his uncle; and Edward turned away with alarm, while Mrs. Reynolds replied, that he was, adding, 'but we expect him tomorrow, with a large party of friends.' How rejoiced was he that their own journey had not by any circumstance been delayed a day!

His aunt now called him to look at a picture. He approached, and saw the likeness of Mr. Wickham suspended, amongst several other miniatures, over the mantlepiece. His aunt asked him, smilingly, how he 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 expence.—'He is now gone into the army,' she added, 'but I am afraid he has turned out very wild.'

Mrs. Gardiner looked at her nephew with a smile, but Edward 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, Edward, you can tell us whether it is like or not.'

Mrs. Reynolds's respect for Edward seemed to increase on this intimation of his knowing her master.

'Does that young man know Mr. Darcy?'

Edward coloured, and said—'A little.'

'And is not he a very handsome gentleman, Sir?'

'Yes, very handsome.'

'I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery up stairs 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 Edward 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 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 Edward, '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. Edward 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 every body will say that knows him,' replied the other. Edward thought this was going pretty far; and he 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 his ideas. That Mr. Darcy was not a good-tempered man, had been his firmest opinion. His keenest attention was awakened; he longed to hear more, and was grateful to his 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.'

Edward almost stared at her.—'Can this be Mr. Darcy!' thought he.

'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.'

Edward listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Mrs. Reynolds could interest him 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 any thing 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 Edward.

'This fine account of him,' whispered his 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 shewn 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 Edward, as he 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 shewn. In the former were many good paintings; but Edward knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been already visible below, he 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. Edward walked on in quest of the only face whose features would be known to him. At last it arrested him—and he beheld a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy, with such a smile over the face, as he remembered to have sometimes seen, when he looked at him. He 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 Edward's mind, a more gentle sensation towards the original, than he 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, he 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 Edward stood before the canvas, on which the gentleman was represented, and fixed his eyes upon himself, he thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever raised before; he 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, Edward turned back to look again; his 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. Mr. Darcy absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immovable from surprise; but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to Edward, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.

Edward had instinctively turned away; but, stopping on the gentleman's 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 the owner of Pemberley, 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 nephew, who, astonished and confused, scarcely dared look Mr. Darcy in the eye, and knew not what answer he returned to his civil inquiries after his family. Amazed at the alteration of his manner since they last parted, every sentence that Edward uttered was increasing his embarrassment; and every idea of the impropriety of his being found there, recurring to his mind, the few minutes in which they continued together, were some of the most uncomfortable of his life. Nor did the gentleman 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 his having left Longbourn, and of his 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 Edward, and expressed admiration of the gentleman's figure; but their nephew heard not a word, and, wholly engrossed by his own feelings, followed them in silence. He was overpowered by shame and vexation. His coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the world! How strange must it appear! In what a disgraceful light might it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if he had purposely thrown himself in his way again! Oh! why did he come? or, why did Mr. Darcy 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. Edward blushed again and again over the perverseness of the meeting. And Mr. Darcy's behaviour, so strikingly altered,—what could it mean? That he should even speak to him was amazing!—but to speak with such civility, to inquire after his family! Never in his life had he 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 his hand! Edward knew not what to think, nor 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 Edward was sensible of any of it; and, though he answered mechanically to the repeated appeals of his uncle and aunt, and seemed to direct his eyes to such objects as they pointed out, he distinguished no part of the scene. His thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where its owner then was. He longed to know what at that moment was passing in Mr. Darcy's mind; in what manner he thought of him, and whether, in defiance of every thing, he 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 him, Edward could not tell, but he certainly had not seen him with composure.

At length, however, the remarks of his companions on his absence of mind aroused him, and he felt the necessity of appearing more like himself.

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, in 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. Edward 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 nephew 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 Edward'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 being here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him before they met. Edward, however astonished, was at least more prepared for an interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with calmness, if the gentleman really intended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed, Edward 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 Edward saw, that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate his politeness, he began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place; but he had not got beyond the words 'delightful,' and 'charming,' when some unlucky recollections obtruded, and he fancied that praise of Pemberley from him, might be mischievously construed. His colour changed, and he said no more.

Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and on his pausing, Mr. Darcy asked Edward, if he would do him the honour of introducing him to his friends. This was a stroke of civility for which he was quite unprepared; and he could hardly suppress a smile, at Mr. Darcy's being now seeking the acquaintance of some of those very people, against whom his pride had revolted, in his speech to himself. 'What will be his surprise,' thought he, 'when he knows who they are! He takes them now for people of fashion.'

The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as he named their relationship to himself, he stole a sly look at the gentleman, 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 connexion was evident; he sustained it however with fortitude, and so far from going away, turned back with them, and entered into conversation with Mr. Gardiner. Edward could not but be pleased, could not but triumph. It was consoling, that Mr. Darcy should know he had some relations for whom there was no need to blush. He listened most attentively to all that passed between them, and gloried in every expression, every sentence of his uncle, which marked his intelligence, his taste, or his good manners.

The conversation soon turned upon fishing, and he heard Mr. Darcy invite his uncle, 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 Edward, gave him a look expressive of wonder. Edward said nothing, but it gratified him exceedingly; the compliment must be all for himself. His astonishment, however, was extreme; and continually was he 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, Edward and his aunt in front, Mr. Darcy and his uncle 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, preferred her husband's arm for support. Mr. Darcy took her place by her nephew, and they walked on together. After a short silence, Edward first spoke, wishing him to know that he had been assured of his absence before he came to the place, and accordingly began by observing, that his arrival had been very unexpected—'for your housekeeper,' he 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.' Mr. Darcy 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.'

Edward answered only by a slight bow. His thoughts were instantly driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's name had been last mentioned between them; and if he might judge from Mr. Darcy's 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 Edward to know in what manner he acceded to it. He immediately felt that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with him, must be the work of her brother, and without looking farther, it was satisfactory; it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made him think really ill of him.

They now walked on in silence; each of them deep in thought. Edward was not comfortable; that was impossible; but he was flattered and pleased. Mr. Darcy's wish of introducing his sister to him, 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.

Mr. Darcy then asked Edward to walk into the house—but he declared himself not tired, and they stood together on the lawn. At such a time, much might have been said, and silence was very awkward. He wanted to talk, but there seemed an embargo on every subject. At last he recollected that he had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dove Dale with great perseverance. Yet time and his aunt moved slowly—and his patience and his ideas were nearly worn out 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 the utmost politeness. Mr. Darcy handed Mrs. Gardiner into the carriage, and when it drove off, Edward saw him walking slowly towards the house.

The observations of his uncle and aunt now began; and each of them pronounced the gentleman to be infinitely superior to any thing they had expected. 'He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming,' said Mr. Gardiner.

'There is something a little stately in him to be sure,' replied Mrs. Gardiner, '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 Edward was very trifling.'

'To be sure, Edward,' said his 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?'

Edward excused himself as well as he could; said that he had liked him better when they had met in Kent than before, and that he had never seen him so pleasant as this morning.

'But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities,' replied his uncle. 'Your great men often are; and therefore I shall not take him at his word about fishing, as he might change his mind another day, and warn me off his grounds.'

Edward felt that they had entirely misunderstood Mr. Darcy's 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 any body, 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 shewed us the 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.'

Edward here felt himself called on to say something in vindication of the gentleman's behaviour to Wickham; and therefore gave them to understand, in as guarded a manner as he could, that by what he had heard from Mr. Darcy's 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, he related the particulars of all the pecuniary transactions in which they had been connected, without actually naming his authority, but stating it to be 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 any thing 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 an intercourse renewed after many years discontinuance.

Edward was introduced to Mr. Mayhew, the local apothecary; and he was not insensible of his aunt's beneficence in doing so;—for the gentleman took a great interest in his professional intentions, proceeding so far as to say, that on Mrs. Gardiner's recommendation alone, he would be happy to take Edward on as an apprentice, once his studies were completed. Edward was flattered at the attention; but the occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave him much attention for any new friends. He could do little but think, and think with wonder, of Mr. Darcy's civility, and above all, of his wishing him to be acquainted with his sister.