Old Friends and New Fancies (12 page)

He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball.

"Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number."

"Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?"

"Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible , I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates , but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath."

Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had."

"I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker."

"Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?"

Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet she did wish she knew whether that had anything to do with Cousin Robert's looking so sad and worn. Stay--that letter of Lady Catherine's which her brother had read aloud--a lady in Bath, a friend of Elizabeth's--a misunderstanding--Georgiana felt for one instant, with a thrill of fear and excitement, as though she had laid hold of the thread; and was almost glad when the stopping of the carriage obliged her to let it go, by scattering her thoughts and her bringing her back to the present moment. She reproached herself for prying into others' secrets, and pressing close to Mrs. Annesley's side, she eagerly responded to that lady's eulogies of the beautiful scene around them. The gardens were indeed looking their best in the glory of their June array, and crowds of well-dressed persons strolling gaily about added to the general sense of brilliancy and festivity.

They had taken a few turns, and Fitzwilliam had greeted several of his acquaintances, while Georgiana was beginning to think that she, too, might see someone she knew, when her attention was arrested by some comments of Mrs. Annesley's, made in a low voice, on the singular beauty of a young lady who was approaching them, escorted by two gentlemen. The lady was dark and extremely animated, and her fine eyes seemed to be glancing in the direction of their party. As the two groups slowly passed each other, Colonel Fitzwilliam's bow was acknowledged by the lady and her friends, and she half paused, as if about to speak, but passed on without doing so. Mrs. Annesley, seeing the recognition, made a laughing apology to her companion. "I beg you pardon, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I did not know you knew that lady, but really, she is such a lovely creature that one cannot help remarking on it."

"I am quite of your opinion Mrs. Annesley," returned the Colonel, and Georgiana saw that though he endeavoured to speak lightly something had happened which necessitated the exercise of a degree of self-command. "It is very obliging of you to voice sentiments which I am always wanting to put into words when I meet Miss Crawford. Although no words can exactly describe her special charm."

"It is her expression, is it not?" said Mrs. Annesley, "so full of changing life and brightness, and that vivid complexion, and graceful carriage of the head. All that one can see at a glance. And I imagine we are not in the minority in admiring her."

"No, indeed," said Fitzwilliam, "she holds quite a little court." He was interrupted by a gentleman who detained him for a moment, and the ladies walked on, Georgiana's mind full of tumultuous thoughts. She had recollected the name Crawford in a moment as being that of Elizabeth's friend to whom Lady Catherine had behaved so unkindly, but she did not like to admit her knowledge, for fear it might be painful to her cousin to have the whole chain of circumstances discussed. What they were, Georgiana could not help longing to know, but the only one that was quite clear to her was her cousin's deep admiration for this lady. Her heart went out in sympathy to him, both for his attachment and for the difficulties in his way, if difficulties there were. Did Miss Crawford perhaps not care for him? Yet she had looked as if she wanted to speak. Were there friends or relations influencing her? He had alluded to "a little court." But how could anyone separate Miss Crawford from Colonel Fitzwilliam, if she really loved him, he so noble, so kind, so true? Georgiana blushed deeply at her thoughts, perceiving the rapid pace at which they had led her on, and the somewhat inconsistent conclusion that they had reached, but their very sincerity reassured her, in the knowledge that her own love for Colonel Fitzwilliam was the sisterly love that longed to see him happily and suitably united. No idea crossed her mind of helping towards this end; she had too lowly an opinion of her own powers as a force in other person's lives; her only wish was for an opportunity of showing her sympathy towards her cousin in some practical form. In vain she tried to plan how this might be done, for she could not speak of it until he had opened his heart to her, a most unlikely thing to happen, and not at all could it be mentioned before Mrs. Annesley.

Fortune seemed to favour her, for when Colonel Fitzwilliam rejoined them, Mrs. Annesley confessed that she felt a little tired, the heat was so great, and she would like to rest a while. "But do not come with me," she added, as Fitzwilliam instantly proposed moving towards the chairs, "if you are not tired yet, it is much more amusing for you and Georgiana to walk about, and probably you would like to go nearer to the music. I will go and sit by my friend Mrs. Sackville, whom I see over there, until you are ready."

The cousins accordingly found themselves together, and Georgiana, hardly knowing how to begin, but feeling no time was to be lost, broke silence again after a few minutes after a few minutes by saying timidly: "I think I have heard Elizabeth speak of Miss Crawford; you all knew her in Bath, did you not?"

"Have you indeed? That is good," exclaimed Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I had forgotten that you would know her name. Yes, we all met in Bath." He seemed about to say more, but after a pause concluded with: "Ask Elizabeth to tell you about her."

Georgiana was disappointed, but told herself that she could not have expected anything else. How could he make a confidant of her, who had shown herself unworthy of any trust.

They walked on for some little distance, until Fitzwilliam, observing two vacant seats in a group of chairs, placed close to the edge of the grass, asked Georgiana if she would like to sit down for a little before turning back. It was a charming spot, in the shade of a tree and immediately facing a large sheet of artificial water, and Georgiana willingly assented, remarking: "How fortunate that we should be able to get two chairs. They seem to be nearly all occupied."

"It is generally so; people come and sit here the whole morning when it is so fine and warm," returned Fitzwilliam, placing himself at her side, but not resuming their conversation of a few moments before. Georgiana was not content to be silent, and her cousin was wrapped in thoughts of Miss Crawford and did not dream of the anxious solicitude for him in Georgiana's heart. The other man in Mary's party, he reflected, must be her brother, Henry Crawford; there was a slight resemblance; besides, he answered to the description Mary had given of him. How well he remembered her laughing looks and tones as she uttered it: "Henry is not tall, Colonel Fitzwilliam, no, I allow him every other imaginable beauty, but he is not tall; thin, dark, rather plain; of course, to me, singularly handsome; did I not say so? Do you think you would recognize him if you saw him?" And the Colonel did see him now, for the second time, a few steps away, approaching with his sister, who walked between him and Sir Walter Elliot, as before.

Mary glanced towards Miss Darcy, and in an instant the Colonel was at her side. "How do you do, Miss Crawford? I was sorry to miss you the other morning when I called. Would you allow me to present to you my cousin, Miss Darcy? She has heard of you from her brother and sister."

Mary coloured deeply as she returned his salutation, but immediately complied with his request, pausing only to say to her brother in a low voice: "Henry, please walk on; do not wait for me." To Georgiana it was such a surprise and delight to see Miss Crawford being brought towards her, and to find a wish granted which she had scarcely dared to formulate, that instead of being exceedingly shy, as she would ordinarily have been, she forgot to think of herself, and rising and looking into Miss Crawford's lovely and expressive face, she entered fully into what she believed her cousin to be feeling towards its owner. In reality the shyness was on Mary's side, for she could not help in seeing in Colonel Fitzwilliam's action another proof of the generosity and devotion of the friend whom she had exiled from her.

A few words passed between them all three about the beauty of the day and their surroundings, then Miss Crawford, turning to Georgiana, inquired after Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. This was a subject to unloose Georgiana's tongue and drew forth animated replies, and Mary, still addressing her, made a few civil inquiries about her journey to town and the probable duration of her visit. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam who presently begged Miss Crawford to take his seat, which, after a slight demur, no other chair being within sight, she consented to do. He remained standing near them for a few moments, and then moved a little distance, thinking they might be able to talk more comfortably if left to themselves.

"You are staying with your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?" asked Miss Crawford, when he was out of earshot.
"No," replied Georgiana, "my aunt is not in town. For the moment I am with my old governess, Mrs. Annesley, but I am really on a visit to some other friends, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley."
"I see; and your cousin is with you there just now?" Mary pursued.
"Oh, no, no, no," said Georgiana, smiling, "no, he has been living in town by himself for some time. You have not happened to meet him since you were in London?"
Mary answered that she had met Colonel Fitzwilliam once or twice, but murmured something about thinking he and the Darcys were all like one family. Georgiana assented to this.
"He is indeed like one of ourselves; my brother and sister are devoted to him, and he is the oldest friend I have," she replied. "After my own brother, he is the kindest and best person I have ever met. People do not know for a long time how good he is, because he is so modest and retiring."
Georgiana was conscious that she was perhaps transgressing the bounds of good taste in this vehement praise; but she did not care what Miss Crawford thought of her, so long as she would think well of her cousin. At all events it appeared that Miss Crawford was not offended, for she smiled faintly and said: "He is fortunate in having you and Mrs. Darcy for his advocates."
"It is just the same," said Georgiana eagerly, "with whoever speaks of him. His friends are all devoted to him, and he is so staunch to them, whatever they do; he never changes, or fails them when they want him."
"I think I know one who would not fail
him,
Miss Darcy," said Miss Crawford, still smiling; "but, indeed," she added, as Georgiana turned away her head, "I am sure you are quite right in all you say. Who should know Colonel Fitzwilliam well, if not his old friends? And I know myself that he is even loyal to them when he is angry with them, which is the great test."
Georgiana could heartily agree, though without understanding Mary's allusion. Their talk drifted to other subjects, in the midst of which the Colonel returned and tried to interest Miss Crawford in some such plan as he had suggested to her sister. Mary said "it was kind of him," "it would be pleasant," without pledging herself to anything; and replied, "Pray do," when he asked if he might call to talk it over; but it appeared that she and her sister were so full of engagements that it was doubtful if they would be at home any morning before the end of that week. By this time she had risen, and appeared anxious to return to her friends. Mr. Crawford, indeed, was seen approaching, so Colonel Fitzwilliam could only bow his adieux, while promising himself the pleasure of calling early in the following week, for though he would have liked to make Henry Crawford's acquaintance for himself, he did not wish to be responsible for introducing him to Georgiana. She, on her part, only perceived that Miss Crawford was taking leave, and she pressed the hand that her new friend extended to her, saying in a low voice: "It has been such a pleasure--I hope I shall see you again."
"Indeed, I hope we may meet; I should like it," responded Mary cordially. "You go about so much that I have no doubt we shall. Pray remember me to your sister and Mr. Darcy."
Georgiana promised, and turned away with Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she ventured to say to her companion nothing more than a few shy words of appreciation of Miss Crawford's beauty and charm.
"I am so glad you like her," he replied. "I thought that you would, though it never occurred to me that we were likely to meet her here. Elizabeth talked of inviting her to Pemberley, and I hope some day she will. If we can get up a water party, Georgiana, you must come to it. Do you think you could persuade Mrs. Annesley to bring you?"
"Indeed I am sure I could, if I am still with her. But I go back to Grosvenor Street on Saturday afternoon, you know."
"Well, we must contrive it somehow; I doubt if Miss Bingley would care much for such simple pleasures."
Georgiana laughed, regarding a river party as a very distinguished and elaborate form of entertainment. Their progress towards Mrs. Annesley was slow, as Colonel Fitzwilliam was frequently accosted by some friend or other, one of whom stopped him to call out: "Do not forget that you are going with us to see Siddons in
Macbeth
on Friday night."
"Are you, Cousin Robert? How I envy you!" said Georgiana, as they passed on. "We have tickets to see her next week in
King John;
but I hear Lady Macbeth is her finest part."
"I am ashamed to say that I have never witnessed any of her performances as yet," replied Fitzwilliam; "I hardly know how I have missed them, but it behooves me to make up for lost time. I shall come round on Saturday morning and harrow your feelings with a description of the play."
"Do, please, and then I can write to Elizabeth about it. How much I shall have to tell her this week; about my coming to this beautiful place and meeting Miss Crawford."
Georgiana thought her cousin looked happier when they were driving home than she had yet seen him look in London, and they discussed the details of a plan to go to Hampton Court and dine there, which seemed to contain all the elements of perfect bliss. Fitzwilliam was indeed experiencing greater peace of mind than he had done since he parted from Mary in Bath, though for what reason he could scarcely explain to himself. Her manner had been merely that of courtesy, and had not contained a hint of the old friendliness; and Sir Walter Elliot had had been, as ever, at her elbow. Yet Fitzwilliam felt that each interview he could obtain opened the way towards her a little more, and he had resolved to press straight onward, letting no such obstacles arise as he had formed an effectual barrier between them in Bath, but, rather, making use of every incident that occurred, such as Georgiana's accidental presence and the ensuing introduction, to bring himself nearer to her.
He was keeping this object ever in view when he joined his friends at the theatre a few evenings later, and in glancing round the house after the first act, observed Miss Crawford with several other persons in a box at some distance from him. He immediately began to consider the possibility of going up to speak to her, although unacquainted with the hostess, for Mrs. Grant was not there, and he conjectured that the party were in the charge of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot, by the manner in which that lady and gentleman rose to welcome a visitor who had just entered the box. Fitzwilliam determined to obtain an introduction through some friend, and for this purpose to go up to the box during the third interval, which was the longest of the evening.
The second interval, however, was destined to produce something of a disconcerting nature. Fitzwilliam was conversing with the wife of his friend, General Stuart, whose guest he was, and learning from her the names and other particulars of many of the persons present, for she had long lived in London and had a wide acquaintance. She was reckoned to be a lively companion, though the information she gave, and her manner of imparting it were, the one so positive and the other so vigorous, that her hearers were tempted frequently to forget, until after they had assimilated it, that she might have spoken without the best authority. She had chanced to notice the people in the Elliots' box, and she drew Colonel Fitzwilliam's rather unwilling attention to them. He did not wish to discuss, or hear discussed, the Crawfords or their friends, and implied at once that several of them were known to him. Mrs. Stuart was all interest, and inquired if it was that charming Miss Crawford that he knew, and, if so, whether he could explain why it was that she was going to marry that insufferable old coxcomb, Sir Walter Elliot, Colonel Fitzwilliam replied, concealing his apprehension as best he could, that he did not know that she was; he had never heard it.
"Then you are the only one in the population of London who has not heard it, my dear Colonel. Why, where have you been, to be out of the way of such a piece of news? At least fifty people have told me, and of course all of them have it straight from the most reliable source. It is hard to believe that such a beautiful creature should throw herself away like that on a foolish, impecunious old fellow who is old enough to be her father, and has nothing in the world but his title and his tailor to recommend him. I cannot comprehend why girls do these things; one can only suppose that she is tired of the single life and wants a suitable settlement."
"I am almost sure there must be some mistake, Mrs. Stuart," interposed Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I saw Miss Crawford the only lately, and she--there was nothing said about her engagement." He stopped, feeling how very lame such a refutation was, unsupported by any testimony.
"Nonsense, my dear sir. You have been living in your books, or you would have heard of it. Do you see that short, stout young man over there? He is a Mr. John Thorpe, and he was speaking of it at our house the other evening, and asserted positively that he had heard it mentioned in Bath months ago."
"I am quite certain that Miss Crawford was not engaged when she was in Bath," was all Colonel Fitzwilliam would permit himself to say.
"Well, you are very uncivil, I must say; you had better obtain someone else's assurance if you will not accept mine. Though anyone can see how it has come about; naturally the Elliots have pushed it forward to the utmost of their power. Sir Walter wants a pretty wife, and as he cannot support one out of that vanished fortune of his, he must choose one who has enough for both. And Miss Elliot would like to establish a connection between the families for the sake of a certain Mr. Henry Crawford, who is still unmarried--he is a rake, of course, but she does not mind that. You know which he is?--the dark young man standing up at the back of the box."
Colonel Fitzwilliam was so excessively disturbed and irritated by this conversation, which he had endeavoured to check by saying: "You must be quite satisfied now, Mrs. Stuart, with the answers you have provided to your own question," that the rising of the curtain was a great relief; he could sit silent, inattentive to the play, wrapped in his own anxious thoughts. Mrs. Stuart's was certainly not the last word on this terribly important matter, for he felt he must hear the facts from some other quarter before he could credit them. The fine scene of Banquo's murder was played, as far as he was concerned, to deaf ears, and his eyes continually sought the box above, where he could just see Mary's white cloak, and Sir Walter's fashionable attire always, it seemed, in proximity to it. The instant the curtain fell again he rose from his seat and made the best of his way towards the exit, but so many gentlemen were leaving their seats at the same time that he found himself in a crowd where it was impossible to progress at any great rate of speed. At this moment he heard his name pronounced behind him, and looking round, he recognized two friends, former brother officers of his own, who had remained seated near the end of one of the rows.
Impatient of the delay, he nevertheless went to them and remained a few minutes in talk, finding that one of his friends, Captain Ross, was lame and had difficulty moving along the narrow gangways. They were presently joined by a Mr. Palmer, whom Fitzwilliam knew as a man of few words, reserved, and of almost unamiable temper, but thoroughly trustworthy, and too little interested in his neighbours' affairs to be possessed of any superfluous knowledge concerning them.
Fitzwilliam had a slight acquaintance with him, and after a little consideration he asked him, as if casually: "Do you know anything of Sir Walter Elliot, Palmer?"
"As much as I want to," was the reply. "A stupid fellow. If he were framed and glazed he would be a good deal more useful than he now is, I consider."
Captain Ross laughingly agreed with him, claiming some knowledge of Sir Walter Elliot himself, and calling on his hearers to witness the inequality of human justice, when such a man as that could find a young and charming wife.
"Is it true then," asked Fitzwilliam, summoning all his fortitude, "that Sir Walter Elliot is going to be married?"
"Perfectly true," rejoined Captain Ross and his companion, "and you know to whom--that lady in the box with him now."
Colonel Fitzwilliam had no need to look; it was enough to know that the worst he dreaded was about to befall. His friends seemed to notice nothing in his agitated manner of asking "Are you sure?" in such haste were they to pour out their information.
"Yes, it has been talked of for a long time, but is quite settled now. I was in the club last night when Elliot was having supper there, and he told us all to drink to his health to-day, for he would be the happiest man in the world. So that party up there is doubtless celebrating the betrothal."
"Besides, do you not recollect," added Captain Ross, "that when I met Miss Elliot the other night she told me her father would probably have some legal business to arrange, when Mr. Crawford returned from Paris, and then, she hoped, would come the announcement of a happy event? Crawford is there now, you see."
"The legal business in this case may include a settlement to be made on Elliot himself," laughed the other officer. "Can you understand people advertising their affairs so freely beforehand? He must have had reason to feel pretty confident. Well, I shall always think it a great shame. Miss Crawford is much too good for him, but it is not the first time she has played with a man in this way, and now, I suppose she finds herself too much involved to draw back, or Elliot has been sharp enough to make sure of her, unlike that dilatory young Bertram."
"Why, yes, besides being presumably a better bargain than a mere country parson," added Captain Ross. "I imagine they will live at Kellynch. When I last saw Wentworth he told me his sister, the tenant, was just leaving."
Fitzwilliam felt as if he could not bear more of this, but, making a great effort, he turned once more to Mr. Palmer and asked if he thought the rumour to be true. Mr. Palmer looked at him in some surprise.
"Yes, certainly, why not? There is not the slightest reason to doubt it. We have the evidence of our eyes and the word of one of the principal parties. My wife and her mother are going to call to-morrow and offer their congratulations."
Colonel Fitzwilliam hardly knew how he got away, what his three friends thought of him, or what General Stuart, whom he had met outside the lobby, could comprehend of his excuses for his abrupt departure. He only knew that he could not return to his place, watching the woman who possessed his whole heart in the company of the lover to whom she had promised herself. He must be alone, in the darkness and silence, to brace himself to endure the shock of what he had heard and realize all that would follow from it. He hastened through the streets, and shut himself up in his rooms, conscious only that this was a defeat, not a mere repulse such as he had received at Bath, but a defeat the completeness and finality of which admitted no rally on the losing side. Long he paced his room, struggling to fight down the anguish of his mind and to see clearly through his utter wretchedness what had happened and how. Even in the midst of his sufferings it was not difficult for him to piece together all the items of his knowledge into a connected whole. She had wearied of him at Bath; that must have been the beginning of it; he had not been able to gain her affection in a sufficient degree for it to be proof against Lady Catherine's attack. That catastrophe had swept him, equally with his cousins, away from whatever place he had held in Mary Crawford's esteem; and when he met her again in London, and could resume his efforts to recover that place, it was already occupied.