Darcy's Diary (15 page)

I am unsure how to act. If I tell Bingley that Miss Bennet is partial to him, then I may do more harm than good. It is now more than two months since I spoke to Elizabeth on the subject, and it is possible that in that time, Jane has found another young man to love. I have decided that I will not tell him of Miss Bennet's affections, but I will encourage him to return to Netherfield after his visit to Pemberley. If she has any feelings for him, he will soon discover it.

When Elizabeth berated me for her sister's unhappiness I thought it a lesser charge than her berating me for Wickham's misfortunes, but I begin to think it was not so. I now know something of what Jane suffered, having felt the pain of rejection myself. If I have caused her to feel the emptiness I have felt for the last two months then I am truly sorry.

‘How quiet we are now that Mr Bingley and his sisters have gone to visit their cousin,' said Mrs Annesley as we sat together after dinner this evening.

‘We will be seeing them again before long,' said Georgiana, as she sat by the window with her needlework. ‘They are coming to Pemberley with us.'

‘I am looking forward to seeing Pemberley,' said Mrs Annesley. ‘I understand it is a very fine estate.'

By this gentle sentence she persuaded my sister to tell her about it, and I thought how lucky I had been to find her. She has helped Georgiana to grow in confidence, and between us we will steer my sister towards a safe and happy womanhood.

I returned to Pemberley today, as I wanted to give Mrs Reynolds news of my impending visit, and to let her know how many guests I will be bringing. I could have written, but our conversation last night filled me with a longing to see it again.

As I turned in at the lodge and rode through the park I could not help thinking: Here I could have brought Elizabeth. I rode through the wood,
following the trail upwards until I reached the top. I reined in my horse and let my eyes rest on Pemberley House, at the far side of the valley. My gaze ran over the house, its mellow stone glowing in the sunlight; on the stream in front of it; and on the wooded ridge behind.

Of all this Elizabeth could have been the mistress. But she had refused my hand. She had not allowed any considerations of position or wealth to sway her, and I honoured her for it. I did not know another woman who would have acted in such a way.

I felt again all the misery and pain of having lost her.

I rode on, descending the hill and crossing the bridge before riding to the door. As I dismounted, and stood before the house, I realized how much I would have valued her as my wife; how the liveliness of her spirits would have softened my own, and her lack of improper pride tempered mine.

I went in. I found the house well cared for, and Mrs Reynolds was pleased to know that I will be visiting with a party of friends in August.

‘It will be good to see Miss Georgiana again, sir.'

‘She is looking forward to being here. She misses Pemberley.'

If Elizabeth had accepted my hand, Georgiana would be living here again, not on her own, but with her family. She and Elizabeth would have been sisters … but I must not torture myself.

I went round the home farm with Johnson, and saw the repairs he had commissioned. He is an asset to the estate, and I am glad to have him.

When I returned to the house, Mrs Reynolds had drawn up a plan of the rooms, allotting to Bingley and his sisters their usual chambers. They will be staying with me on my return. She had also drawn up a selection of menus. I gave them my approval, and spent the evening in discussing with her some changes I would like to see in the east wing, before retiring to bed.

I returned to town, and mean to finish my business before spending the rest of the summer at Pemberley.

I was surprised to see Bingley today, when I was riding in the park.

‘I thought you were visiting your cousin,' I said to him.

‘I was, but I have come back a week early. You are right about me, you
see, I have no constancy.'

I was glad of the opening this offered me.

‘I thought, in one matter, perhaps you had,' I ventured.

‘Oh?'

He said no more, but I could see where his thoughts were tending.

‘Did I tell you I visited Rosings at Easter?' I asked. ‘I went to stay with my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.'

‘Yes, I believe I heard something of it,' said Bingley without interest. ‘I hope Lady Catherine is well?'

‘Yes, thank you. She was in good health and spirits. She had visitors staying with her, a party from Longbourn.'

He changed colour at this.

‘Longbourn? I did not know that. What were they doing in Kent?' he asked, as we turned into the park.

‘They were visiting the rectory. Perhaps you remember Mr Collins, a heavy young man who was a rector in my aunt's parish?'

‘No, I cannot think I do.'

‘He was staying at Longbourn before Christmas. He attended the ball at Netherfield, with the Bennets.'

‘Ah, now I remember. There was a rumour he was to marry Elizabeth Bennet.'

‘It was nothing but a rumour.' Thank God, I thought. ‘He did find a wife, however, and married Charlotte Lucas.'

‘The charming daughter of Sir William?' asked Bingley, turning towards me.

‘Yes.'

‘A good match,' he said, pleased. ‘I know she wanted her own establishment. I am happy for her. Was she in good spirits when you saw her?'

‘Yes. She had reason to be so. Her family were paying her a visit. Her father and sister were staying with her. Sir William stayed only a week, but her sister Maria stayed with her longer.' I paused. ‘She had another visitor, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.'

He started, but said only: ‘Yes, I believe they were friends.' After a moment he said: ‘Was she well?'

‘She was.'

‘I liked Miss Elizabeth Bennet very much. She was as lively a girl as one could ever wish to meet. And her parents, were they well?'

‘Yes, I believe so.'

‘And her … sisters?' he asked, studiously ignoring my gaze.

‘They were well, although Miss Bennet I believe was not in spirits.'

‘No?' he asked, torn between hope and concern.

‘No,' I said firmly.

‘She missed her sister, perhaps. She was very fond of her, and would not want to be parted from her.'

‘She had been in low spirits before her sister left.'

‘She missed Caroline, then. They saw a great deal of each other when we were all at Netherfield, and were friends.'

‘Perhaps. But it is not usual for a young lady to fall into low spirits because her friend has gone.'

‘No.'

He hesitated, then said: ‘What do you think Darcy? Should I give up Netherfield?'

‘Is that what you wish to do?'

‘I am undecided. It is a fine house, and a fine country, and the company was good – though, perhaps, not what you are used to,' he said with a trace of anxiety.

‘Perhaps not, but there were several people who made the neighbourhood very pleasant.'

‘Indeed. Sir William had been presented at St James's.'

‘I was not thinking of Sir William.'

Though I was meant to be helping my friend, I could not prevent an image of Elizabeth rising before my eyes.

‘I might perhaps go there for a few weeks towards the end of the summer. What do you say you to that idea?' he asked.

‘I think it an excellent one.'

‘Then I think I will go after my visit to Pemberley.'

I said no more. I do not wish to give him too much hope, lest Jane should have put her hurt aside and become attached to one of the neighbouring young men. But if he returns to the neighbourhood, then a very little time will show them if they are meant to be together, and this time, I will not be so impertinent as to interfere.

Bingley and his sisters joined Georgiana and me soon after breakfast and we set out for Pemberley. To begin with, Caroline talked of her visit to her cousin, but then her conversation turned to flattery.

‘What a fine coach you have, Mr Darcy,' she said, as it rattled through the streets. ‘Charles has nothing like it. I keep telling him he should buy something in this style.'

‘My dear Caroline, if I bought everything you wanted me to buy I would be bankrupt by the end of the year!' said Bingley.

‘Nonsense. Every gentleman should have his coach, should he not, Mr Darcy?' she asked.

‘It is certainly useful,' I admitted.

‘Darcy! I relied on you to take my part! I was sure you would think it an extravagance.'

‘If you mean to travel a great deal, then it is cheaper than hiring a coach.'

‘There you are,' said Caroline, directing a smile at me. ‘Mr Darcy agrees with me. How companionable it is when two people have but one mind. You should have squabs in just this colour, Charles,' she said, looking at the seats.

‘I shall make sure they are in a completely different colour,' he returned, ‘otherwise I will not know which is my coach and which is Darcy's.'

‘How comfortable it is,' said Caroline. ‘Is it not, Georgiana?' she asked, appealing to my sister.

‘Yes, it is,' said Georgiana.

‘And how well sprung. Charles, you must make sure your coach uses just these springs.'

‘If I do, Darcy's coach will be sadly uncomfortable without them.'

‘And you must have a writing desk built into the coach.'

‘I dislike writing letters when I am still, and I have no intention of doing it whilst being jolted over every rut and pothole.'

‘But your fellow travellers might like to write. What do you say, Georgiana? Would it not be useful?'

‘Yes,' my sister ventured.

‘There you are, Charles. Georgiana thinks it would be useful, and not only for writing, I am sure. It would also be useful for sketching. How is your sketching progressing?' she asked Georgiana.

‘Well, I thank you.'

‘My sister gave me a sketch of Hyde Park only last week,' I said.

‘And was it prettily done?' Caroline asked.

‘It was very well done indeed,' I said with a warm smile.

‘I remember my own schooldays. How I loved to sketch! You must let me see the picture, Georgiana.'

‘I left it in London,' my sister said.

‘No matter. I will see it the next time we meet.'

We travelled in easy stages and stopped for the night at the Black Bull. It is a respectable hostelry. The food is good and the rooms comfortable. I have told my man to wake me early. I have some letters to write before we travel on.

I cannot believe it. I have seen Elizabeth. I scarce know what I am writing. It was so strange.

We were returning to Pemberley, Bingley, his sisters, Mr Hurst, Georgiana and I, when we stopped for lunch at an inn. The day was hot and the ladies were tired. They did not wish to travel further, and indeed I had told my housekeeper we would not arrive until tomorrow. But I was restless. I decided to go ahead, meaning to see Johnson and put some of the estate business out of the way before my guests arrived.

I rode on to Pemberley. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I enjoyed the ride. I was just leaving the stables and walking round to the front of the house when I stopped short. I wondered if I was hallucinating. The day was hot, and I wondered if I had caught the sun. For there in front of me was a figure I knew well. It was Elizabeth.

She was walking across the lawn to the river, in the company of two people whom I did not know. At that moment she turned to look back. She saw me. I stood rooted to the spot. We were within twenty yards of each other. There was no question of avoiding her, even had I wished it. Our eyes met and I saw her blush. I felt my own countenance grow hot.

At last I recovered myself. I advanced towards the party. She had instinctively turned away, but stopping on my approach, she received my compliments with great embarrassment. I felt for her, and would have made it easier for her if I could.

As I spoke to her I could not help wondering what she was doing there. To be at Pemberley! It seemed so strange, and yet at the same time so right.

‘I hope you are well?' I asked.

‘Yes, thank you,' she said, flushing, and unable to meet my gaze.

‘And your family?'

As soon as I said it I saw her flush more deeply, and I felt an answering flush cross my face. I had no right to ask after her family, having abused them so roundly to her face, but she answered me civilly enough.

‘They are well, thank you.'

‘How long ago did you quit Longbourn?'

‘Almost a month'

‘You have been travelling?'

‘Yes.'

‘You are enjoying it, I hope?'

‘Yes.'

I repeated myself thrice more, asking her if she had enjoyed herself, until I felt it was better if I remain silent, since I could think of nothing sensible to say. After a few moments I recollected myself and took my leave.

To find Elizabeth, here, at Pemberley! And to find her willing to talk to me. She had been embarrassed, but she had not turned away. She had answered every question with more civility than I deserved.

What was she thinking? I wondered. Was she pleased to have met me? Mortified? Indifferent? No, not that last. She had blushed when I approached. She had been angry, perhaps, but not indifferent.

The thought gave me hope.

I went into the house, but instead of making for the steward's room I found myself going into the drawing-room.

She had not been at ease, that much was clear, and I had done nothing to help her. I had been so overcome with surprise, and a range of other emotions I dare not put a name to, that I had been incoherent.

A gentleman would have set her at ease. A gentleman would have made her feel at home. A gentleman would have asked to be introduced to her companions. How far below this mark I had fallen! I resolved to mend matters at once.

Going out into the grounds, I enquired of one of the gardeners which way the visitors had gone, and set off after them.

I saw them down by the river. I approached. Never had a walk seemed so long. Would she be pleased to see me? I hoped, at least, she would not be displeased.

I came upon her. She began speaking at once, with something more of ease than previously.

‘Mr Darcy. You have a delightful estate here. The house is charming, and the grounds are very pleasant.'

She seemed about to go on, then coloured. I believe we both thought
the same:
the house could now be hers, if she had accepted my hand
.

To help her over her distress, I said; ‘Will you do me the honour of introducing me to your friends?'

She looked surprised, then smiled. There was a trace of mischief in it, and as soon as I saw it, I realized how much I had missed her.

‘Mr Darcy, may I introduce my aunt and uncle, Mr and Mrs Gardiner,' she said.

I understood the cause of her mischievous smile at once. These were the very relatives I had railed against, and yet I had been wrong to despise them. They were not the low connections I had been fearing. Indeed, before she had introduced them I had taken them to be people of fashion.

‘We were just returning to the house,' said Mr Gardiner. ‘The walk has tired my wife.'

‘Allow me to walk back with you.'

We fell into step.

‘You have a fine estate here, Mr Darcy.'

‘Thank you. I believe it to be one of the finest in England – but then I am partial!'

Mr and Mrs Gardiner laughed.

‘Your man has been showing me the trout in the river,' said Mr Gardiner.

‘Do you enjoy fishing?'

‘Yes, when I have the opportunity.'

‘Then you must fish here as often as you choose.'

‘That is very kind of you, but I have not brought my tackle.'

‘There is plenty here. You must use it when you come.' I stopped. ‘That is a good stretch of the river,' I said, pointing out one of the best stretches for trout.

I saw Elizabeth and her aunt exchange glances, and I could not help but notice Elizabeth's look of astonishment. Did she think me incapable of being polite? Perhaps. I had given little evidence of it in Hertfordshire.

I could not help looking at her, though I talked to her uncle. Her face, her eyes, her mouth, all held me. I thought she looked well, and though she seemed embarrassed, I saw no hostility in her expression.

After a little time, Mrs Gardiner took her husband's arm, and I was left to walk by Elizabeth.

‘I did not know you would be here,' she began at once. ‘My aunt had a fancy to see Pemberley. She lived in the neighbourhood when she was a girl. But we were told you would not return until tomorrow.'

So she had discovered that, and had only come on the understanding she would not see me. My spirits sank, but rose again as I realized that
fate had played into my hands. If I had not decided to tend to my estate business, I would be with Georgiana at the inn, instead of here with Elizabeth.

‘That was my intention, but a matter to be settled with my steward brought me here a few hours before my companions. They will join me early tomorrow, and among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with you – Mr Bingley and his sisters.'

I could not help but think of all that had passed between us on the subject of Bingley, and I guessed her thoughts tended in the same direction. I wondered whether I should say something; give her some indication of my change of sentiment; but I did not know how to begin.

Instead, I said: ‘Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?'

‘I would like that very much.'

There was a warmth in her voice, and in the smile that accompanied it, that greatly relieved my fears.

We walked on in silence, but more easily than before. The air was not so tense, and there was, if not ease between us, at least no more embarrassment.

We reached the carriage. Her aunt and uncle were some way behind.

‘Will you come into the house? Would you like some refreshment?'

‘No, thank you,' she said. ‘I must wait for my aunt and uncle.'

I was disappointed, but I did not press her.

I tried to think of something to say. I wanted to tell her how wrong I had been. She, too, looked as though she wished to speak, but what she wanted to say I did not know.

At last she began, but it was only to say: ‘Derbyshire is a beautiful county.'

‘Have you seen much of it?'

‘Yes. We have been to Matlock and Dove Dale.'

‘They are well worth seeing.'

My conversation was inane. Hers was little better. There was so much that lay unspoken between us, but now was not the time. Perhaps, in a few days, when we came to know each other better again …

Her aunt and uncle drew closer. I invited them in for refreshment, but they declined. I handed the ladies into the carriage and it drove away. I watched it for as long as I could without my regard seeming particular, and then walked slowly into the house.

I had not said any of the things I wanted to say, but the knowledge that I would be seeing Elizabeth again sustained me.

My spirits felt lighter than they had done for a very long time.

I was out of bed very early. I could not sleep. I looked for Georgiana and at last she arrived, with Bingley and his sisters. I greeted them warmly, and then telling Georgiana I wished to show her a new specimen of tree in the grounds I invited her for a walk. She went with me readily. When we were some distance from the house I said: ‘Georgiana, there is someone I would like you to meet.'

She looked at me enquiringly.

‘When I was in Hertfordshire last autumn, I met a young lady by the name of Elizabeth Bennet. I liked her very much.'

Georgiana looked surprised, then pleased.

‘She is visiting Derbyshire, and she is staying at a nearby inn. If you are not too tired, I would like to take you to meet her this morning.'

I knew that it was sudden, but now that I had found Elizabeth again, I could not wait to introduce her to my sister.

‘No, I am not too tired. I would like to meet her.'

We returned to the house. Caroline and Louisa were upstairs, and Georgiana followed them, promising to come down when she had washed the grime of travelling from her hands and face, and when she had changed her gown.

Bingley was in the library.

‘There is someone I think you will like to see, staying nearby,' I said.

‘Oh?' He looked up.

‘Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She is travelling with her aunt and uncle. By chance, they visited the house yesterday, just as I arrived. I said I would visit her this morning. I will be taking Georgiana with me, and I thought you might like to come.'

He looked surprised, but said: ‘Of course, Darcy. I would like to see her again.' He hesitated, then said: ‘Might it be better if I do not ask after her sister? Or would that seem particular?'

‘I think you should certainly ask after her.'

He smiled, and I was pleased with the turn events had taken.

Georgiana returned to the room. I ordered the curricle to be brought round and we drove to Lambton, with Bingley following on horseback. I hoped Elizabeth would not have gone out. I caught a glimpse of her at the window and was reassured.

I believe I was as nervous as Georgiana when we were admitted. Elizabeth seemed embarrassed, but no sooner had I introduced Georgiana than she regained her composure. Between the two of them there seemed a genuine warmth. Georgiana was shy, and spoke in no more than monosyllables at first, but Elizabeth persevered, asking her questions and gently
leading her to speak. Georgiana grew easier in her manner, and before long they were sitting together.