Page 85 of Pride, Prejudice & Wicked Pleasure

Lizzy’s thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more than the last; and the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not long enough to determine her feelings towards one in that mansion She lay awake two whole hours endeavouring to make them out. She certainly did not hate him. No, hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him. The respect created by the conviction of his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some time ceased to be repugnant to her feeling. It was now heightened into somewhat of a friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly in his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, there was a motive within her of goodwill which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude; gratitude, not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent on making her known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so much pride exciting not only astonishment but gratitude—for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed; and as such its impression on her was of a sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not be exactly defined. She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him, she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it would be for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which her fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on her the renewal of his addresses.

It had been settled in the evening between the aunt and the niece, that such a striking civility as Miss Darcy's in coming to see them on the very day of her arrival at Pemberley, for she had reached it only to a late breakfast, ought to be imitated, though it could not be equalled, by some exertion of politeness on their side; and, consequently, that it would be highly expedient to wait on her at Pemberley the following morning. They were, therefore, to go. Lizzy was pleased; though when she asked herself the reason, she had very little to say in reply.

Mr. Gardiner left them soon after breakfast. The fishing scheme had been renewed the day before, and a positive engagement made of his meeting some of the gentlemen at Pemberley before noon.

*****

Convinced as Lizzy now was that Miss Bingley's dislike of her had originated in jealousy, she could not help feeling how unwelcome her appearance at Pemberley must be to her, and was curious to know with how much civility on that lady's side the acquaintance would now be renewed.

On reaching the house, they were shown through the hall into the saloon, whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high woody hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts which were scattered over the intermediate lawn.

In this house they were received by Miss Darcy, who was sitting there with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in London. Georgiana's reception of them was very civil, but attended with all the embarrassment which, though proceeding from shyness and the fear of doing wrong, would easily give to those who felt themselves inferior the belief of her being proud and reserved. Mrs. Gardiner and her niece, however, did her justice, and pitied her.

By Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley they were noticed only by a curtsey; and, on their being seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must always be, succeeded for a few moments. It was first broken by Mrs. Annesley, a genteel, agreeable-looking woman, whose endeavour to introduce some kind of discourse proved her to be more truly well-bred than either of the others; and between her and Mrs. Gardiner, with occasional help from Lizzy, the conversation was carried on. Miss Darcy looked as if she wished for courage enough to join in it; and sometimes did venture a short sentence when there was least danger of its being heard.

Lizzy soon saw that she was herself closely watched by Miss Bingley, and that she could not speak a word, especially to Miss Darcy, without calling her attention. This observation would not have prevented her from trying to talk to the latter, had they not been seated at an inconvenient distance; but she was not sorry to be spared the necessity of saying much. Her own thoughts were employing her. She expected every moment that some of the gentlemen would enter the room. She wished, she feared that the master of the house might be amongst them; and whether she wished or feared it most, she could scarcely determine. After sitting in this manner a quarter of an hour without hearing Miss Bingley's voice, Lizzy was roused by receiving from her a cold inquiry after the health of her family. She answered with equal indifference and brevity, and the other said no more.

The next variation which their visit afforded was produced by the entrance of servants with cold meat, cake, and a variety of all the finest fruits in season; but this did not take place till after many a significant look and smile from Mrs. Annesley to Miss Darcy had been given, to remind her of her post. There was now employment for the whole party—for though they could not all talk, they could all eat; and the beautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches soon collected them round the table. In the center was a vase of exquisite lilies. The pollen, however, seemed to agitate Miss Darcy, who sneezed twice and had to draw out her handkerchief.

“What a lovely piece of linen,” Mrs. Gardiner remarked.

“Thank you,” Miss Darcy replied.

“Such remarkable embroidery.”

Lizzy looked over and felt the blood drain from her face.

“The late Mrs. Darcy had a flare with needlepoint,” Mrs. Annesley supplied. “This particular handkerchief she embroidered only two, one for each of her children.”

Frozen, Lizzy neglected the half-chewed grape in her mouth. As it slipped down her throat, she started to cough. She reached quickly for a drink. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley frowned as if she had choked on purpose.

“My dear, are you all right?” Mrs. Gardiner cried.

Lizzy nodded, but nothing could be further from the truth. She had recognized that handkerchief. Mrs. Annesley had clearly stated only two such handkerchiefs existed. Miss Darcy had been one recipient.

And now Lizzy knew the other.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Darcy had been some time with Mr. Gardiner, who, with two or three other gentlemen from the house, was engaged by the river, and had left him only upon learning that the ladies of the family intended a visit to Georgiana that morning. When he entered the saloon, he was alarmed to see Miss Elizabeth looking so pale. She met his eyes only briefly. In an attempt to draw her gaze, he endeavoured the warmest greeting he could but received only the eye of suspicion from Caroline. Had something transpired in his absence? he wondered. Had one of the Bingley sisters been uncivil? Their disdain of the Bennets was no secret to him.

Upon his appearance, Georgiana exerted herself to talk much more. Anxious to make Miss Elizabeth at ease and eager for the two to become better acquainted, he forwarded as much as possible every attempt at conversation on either side. Miss Elizabeth was friendly enough in her response but continued to avoid his gaze.

Caroline, however, grew increasingly attentive and took the first opportunity to say with sneering civility, “Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the militia removed from Meryton? They must be a great loss to your family.”

His colour rose. Caroline would not dare mention Wickham’s name before him. She knew nothing of Georgiana’s mediated elopement or she would not have dared approach any mention of that corps. To no creature had he revealed his sister’s past except to Miss Elizabeth, whom he earnestly looked upon.

Miss Elizabeth appeared distressed at first, but answered in a tolerably detached tone, “You are correct, Miss Bingley, in that the militia is no longer in Meryton.”

Her collected behaviour quieted his emotion. Miss Bingley appeared more vexed than ever and Georgiana returned to her customary reticence. If Miss Elizabeth experienced a return of her previous enmity, she might have answered in a manner to anguish him. She had the wit to accomplish it, but, as he suspected, she had too much decency to betray his confidence or desire to injure his sister, an innocent party. Nonetheless, he could not help but notice her continued agitation. Even her hand shook.

“How do you like the fruit?” he asked point-blank when he could no longer stay his impatience to understand what had put her in such a fragile state. Perhaps the food did not agree with her.

“The fruit is fine,” she murmured.

He had no wish to call further attention upon her if she were ill, and to his great reluctance, he allowed the visit to come to an end. He had no wish to prolong her misery if she were unwell, but her attitude toward him alone was changed from yesterday. He saw the women to their carriage and had the pleasure of handing Miss Elizabeth into the vehicle, but his touch seemed to alarm her, so much so that she tripped upon the steps. He caught her. The feel of her gave him a rush and caused his heart to pound. He held her a second longer than necessary to secure her footing. Her face turned red. A little too hastily, she retreated into the carriage. He had never seen her so flustered.

Still concerned for her welfare and perplexed by her deportment, he was in no mood for Caroline’s criticisms when he returned to the saloon.