Page 8 of Near Pemberley

“So we thought,” her aunt replied. “You had not led us to expect such manners.” She shook her head. “I must do him justice. I have rarely met with a gentleman more desirous of making himself agreeable. He showed us every attention and appeared perfectly at ease in doing so.”

Elizabeth was silent.

“His conduct towards Mr. Wickham is now placed in a very different light. Perhaps, Lizzy, he had other motives than jealousy in denying him the living. After what we learnt about him from the housekeeper, I would not be surprised. We were too hasty in our judgement.”

Elizabeth felt all the force of her previous righteousness. She regretted the quickness of her tongue.

But what struck her most was that Mr. Darcy could behave with such civility towards strangers. She could not easily reconcile this account with her former impressions, and yet she could not doubt the testimony of those who had witnessed it. “And he remained with you long?” she asked, after a moment.

“For some time,” said Mr. Gardiner. “Long enough to show us that we had formed a very imperfect judgement of him… There was something else I liked in him,” said Mr. Gardiner thoughtfully. “He did not seem a man trying to impress us. Indeed, I believe he forgot entirely that there was anything to be gained by doing so.”

Elizabeth lowered her eyes. She had no answer to make.

Nor was silence any refuge; for in that silence every word she had heard seemed to arrange itself against her former certainty. She had refused to see Pemberley, and yet Pemberley had found its way to her all the same – not in stone, timber, or prospect, but in the testimony of those whose judgement she trusted.

Mrs. Gardiner took up her glass, set it down again, and then said, with an air of recollection, “There was one circumstance more, Lizzy, though I am not certain whether I ought to mention it.”

Elizabeth looked up quickly. “What circumstance?”

Her aunt hesitated only a moment.

“Your uncle mentioned that we had a niece with us in Lambton.”

Elizabeth’s colour changed.

“Yes,” said Mr. Gardiner. “It seemed natural enough. He had asked whether we were long in the neighbourhood, and whether we had come far. I was on the point of saying that our niece was Miss Elizabeth Bennet…”

Elizabeth bent her attention suddenly to the table before her. She felt her heart give one painful, foolish bound.

“And did you say so?”

“No,” said Mrs. Gardiner gently. “At that instant, Mrs. Reynolds reminded us that we had still the library to see, and Mr. Darcy took his leave of us with great politeness.”

Elizabeth’s eyes lifted before she could prevent them. “And he seemed in haste to go?”

“Not in haste,” said Mrs. Gardiner thoughtfully. “Only recalled, perhaps, to what was proper. He appeared attentive to the last.”

For one uncomfortable moment, Elizabeth wondered whether such ease was only possible because she no longer occupied any place in his thoughts.

Elizabeth lowered her gaze again. This was worse. Had he been cold, indifferent, or even impatient, she might have known what to think. However, his consideration left too much room for imagination.

Elizabeth looked down at her plate, though she could not have said what was upon it. The room seemed, for a moment, to have grown both louder and more distant. Voices from a neighbouring table reached her without meaning; the scrape of a chair, the opening of a door, the clink of glass – all were strangely distinct, and yet none seemed to belong to the present moment.

“So, he does not know,” she said at last.

“No,” replied her uncle. “My dear wife, afterwards, reminded me that it would have been very impolitic to mention your name, when you had so plainly wished to avoid being named.”

“I thought it better if I did not speak,” Mrs. Gardiner added. “You had not wished to go, my dear, and I could not tell whether you would thank us for carrying your name where you had refused to carry yourself. I hope we did not disappoint you.”

Elizabeth attempted to smile. “No, not at all.”

Mrs. Gardiner regarded her for a moment with a gentler expression than before. “I am not certain of that,” she said. “From what we saw of him, I should not suppose he would have been much discomposed.”

Elizabeth fidgeted with her glass.

“Indeed,” her aunt added, “he appeared particularly desirous of being agreeable. I cannot think he would have been otherwise than pleased to see you again.”

Elizabeth lowered her gaze, and for a moment, made no reply. The idea, once suggested, struck her with more force than she cared to admit.