'My dear Edward, where can you have been walking to?' was a question which Edward received from Jane as soon as he entered the hall, and from all the others when they sat down to table. He had only to say in reply, that they had wandered about, till he was beyond his own knowledge. He coloured as he spoke; but neither that, nor any thing else, awakened a suspicion of the truth.
The evening passed quietly, unmarked by any thing extraordinary. The acknowledged lovers talked and laughed, the unacknowledged were silent. Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth; and Edward, agitated and confused, rather knew that he was happy than felt himself to be so; for, besides the immediate embarrassment, there were other evils before him. He was aware that no one but Jane liked Mr. Darcy; he anticipated what would be felt by his father when his situation became known; and even feared that his was a dislike which not all the gentleman's fortune and consequence might do away.
At night he opened his heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far from Miss Bennet's general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here.
'You are joking, Edward. This cannot be!—Mr. Darcy! No, no, you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible.'
'This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and I love him.'
Jane looked at him doubtingly. 'Oh, Edward! it cannot be. I know how much you dislike him.'
'You know nothing of the matter. That is all to be forgot. Perhaps I did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.'
Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Edward again, and more seriously assured her of its truth.
'Good Heaven! can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you,' cried Jane. 'My dear, dear Edward, I would—I do congratulate you—but are you certain? forgive the question—are you quite certain that you can be happy with him?'
'There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother-in-law?'
'Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible.'
'Then Mr. Bingley is not insensible of Mr. Darcy's attachment to me?'
'He is as sensible of it, as Charles Lucas must be of your's to Mr. Darcy. But, Edward, do you really love him quite well enough? Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought to do?'
'Oh, yes! You will only think I feel more than I ought to do, when I tell you all.'
'What do you mean?'
'Why, I must confess, that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am afraid you will be angry.'
'My dear brother, now be serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let me know every thing that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell me how long you have loved him?'
'It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds at Pemberley.'
Another entreaty that he would be serious, however, produced the desired effect; and he soon satisfied Jane by his solemn assurances of attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing further to wish.
'Now I am quite happy,' said she, 'for you will be as happy as myself. I always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley's friend and your lover, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. And we shall be so often together! But Edward, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know of it, to another, not to you.'
Edward told her the motives of his secrecy. He had been unwilling to mention Bingley; and the unsettled state of his own feelings had made him equally avoid the name of his friend. But now he would no longer conceal from her, Mr. Darcy's share in Lydia's marriage. All was acknowledged, and half the night spent in conversation.
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'Good gracious!' cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next morning, 'if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always coming here? I had no notion but he would go a shooting, or something or other, and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him? Edward, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley's way.'
Edward could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yet was really vexed that his mother should be always giving him such an epithet.
As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at him so expressively, and shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information; and he soon afterwards said aloud, 'Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes hereabouts in which Edward may lose his way again to-day?'
'I advise Mr. Darcy, and Edward, and Kitty,' said Mrs. Bennet, 'to walk to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has never seen the view.'
'It may do very well for the others,' replied Mr. Bingley; 'but I am sure it will be too much for Kitty. Wont it, Kitty?'
Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Edward silently consented. As he went up stairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed him, saying,
'I am quite sorry, Edward, that you should be forced to have that disagreeable man all to yourself. But I hope you will not mind it: it is all for Jane's sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talking to him, except just now and then. So, do not put yourself to inconvenience.'
During their walk, Edward resolved that Mr. Bennet should be apprised of their intentions towards one another in the course of the evening. Mr. Darcy's face betrayed his surprise.
'Your father is aware of your inclinations? Does not he censure them?'
'No indeed;' said Edward, 'for we are too much alike, he and I, to question love's providence. He is as resigned to my situation, as he is to his own.' He did not wish to say more; but Darcy's expression shewed, that he need not be more explicit.
'And I am to make this application, am I?'
'Oh! yes, certainly,' replied Edward, smiling, 'for if I were I to make it, he would think me teazing him, and not believe a word of it; but, coming from you, he can have no reason to doubt it.'
Edward reserved to himself the application to his mother. He could not tell her the whole of it; but he could, and must, make her see, how much the entire family owed to Mr. Darcy's goodness. Nor could he determine how his mother would take it; sometimes doubting whether the generosity of his actions would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she were violently set against his interference, or violently delighted with it, it was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to her sense; and Edward could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear the first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her disapprobation.
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In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, he saw Mr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and his agitation on seeing it was extreme. He did not fear his father's opposition, but he was going to be made unhappy, and that it should be through his means, that he, his favourite child, should be distressing him by his choice, was a wretched reflection, and he sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when, looking at him, he was a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes he approached the table where Edward was sitting with Kitty; and, while pretending to admire his sister's work, said to Edward in a whisper, 'Go to your father, he wants you in the library.' He was gone directly.
His father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious. 'Edward,' said he, 'what are you doing? Are you out of your senses, to be accepting this man? Have not you always hated him?'
How earnestly did he then wish that his former opinions had been more reasonable, his expressions more moderate! It would have spared him from explanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward to give; but they were now necessary, and he assured his father with some confusion, of his attachment to Mr. Darcy.
'Or in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be sure. But will that make you happy?'
'Have you any other objection,' said Edward, 'than your belief of my indifference?'
'None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but this would be nothing if you really liked him.'
'I do, I do like him,' he replied, 'I love him. Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not know what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in such terms.'
'Edward,' said his father, 'I have given him my approval, for what it is worth. He is the kind of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse any thing, which he condescended to ask. I now give it to you, if you are resolved on having him. But let me advise you to think better of it. I know your disposition, Edward. I know that you could not be happy, unless you truly esteemed your lover; unless you looked on him as an equal. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal relationship. You could scarcely escape misery. My son, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are about.'
Edward, deeply affected, was earnest and solemn in his reply; and at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the object of his choice, by explaining the gradual change which his estimation of him had undergone, relating his absolute certainty that the gentleman's affection was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many months suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, he did conquer his father's incredulity, and reconcile him to the match.
'Well,' said he, when his son ceased speaking, 'I have no more to say. If this be the case, he deserves you. I could not have parted with you, Edward, to any one less worthy.'
To complete the favourable impression, Edward then told him what Mr. Darcy had voluntarily done for Lydia. He heard him with astonishment.
'This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And so, Darcy did every thing; made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow's debts, and got him his commission! So much the better. It will save me a world of trouble and economy. Had it been your uncle's doing, I must and would have paid him; but these violent young lovers carry every thing their own way. I shall offer to pay him to-morrow; he will rant and storm about his love for you, and there will be an end of the matter.'
He then recollected Edward's embarrassment a few days before, on his reading Mrs. Lucas's letter; and after laughing at him some time, allowed him at last to go—saying, as he quitted the room, 'If any young men come for Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure.'
Edward's mind was now relieved from a very heavy weight; and, after half an hour's quiet reflection in his own room, he was able to join the others with tolerable composure. Every thing was too recent for gaiety, but the evening passed tranquilly away; there was no longer any thing material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiarity would come in time.
When his mother went up to her dressing-room at night, he followed her, and made the important communication. Its effect was most extraordinary; for on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and unable to utter a syllable. Nor was it under many, many minutes, that she could comprehend what she heard; though not in general backward to credit what was for the advantage of her family. She began at length to recover, to fidget about in her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless herself.
'Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think! dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thought it! And is it really true? Oh! Such a charming man!—Oh, my dear Edward! pray apologise for my having disliked him so much before. I hope he will overlook it. Oh, Lord! What will become of me, if he does not! I shall go distracted.'
This was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted: and Edward, rejoicing that such an effusion was heard only by himself, soon went away. But before he had been three minutes in his own room, his mother followed him.
'I can think of nothing else!' she cried. 'He is as good a man, as you could ever wish to meet! But Edward, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of, that I may have it to-morrow.'
This was a sad omen of what his mother's behaviour to the gentleman himself might be; and Edward found, that though in the certain possession of his warmest affection, and secure of the approval of his father and sister, there was still something to be wished for. But the morrow passed off much better than he expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stood in such awe of Mr. Darcy, that she ventured not to speak to him, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark her deference for his opinion.
Edward had the satisfaction of seeing his father taking pains to get acquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured him that he was rising every hour in his esteem.
'I admire all my three sons-in-law highly,' said he. 'Wickham, perhaps, is my favourite; but I think I shall like your fellow quite as well as Jane's.'
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