Old Friends and New Fancies (28 page)

"Anyone would be ill after what I have been through," lamented Kitty; "I shall never be happy again. Why does he not care for me? Did he tell you why not, Georgiana? What have I done, or what has Mrs. Jennings done? Something must have happened to offend him, for he changed all in one minute."

"I do not believe anything happened to offend him, Kitty," returned Georgiana. "As he has gone away now and did not do what he all thought he would do, is it not best to assume that he does not care in the way we hoped for, and try to forget about it, and not mind too much? Dear Kitty, I am deeply grieved for you: it has been my fault, more than anyone's, and you are right to reproach me; I can never forgive myself for having led you into the mistake."

"But you are not answering me, Georgiana," cried Kitty, with the petulance of an invalid; "of course, I know he does not care, and has gone away, but I want to know why he has gone. If it is not for anything I have done, he might come back."

Georgiana was silent, and held her down; she shrank still from telling Kitty that he would not come back. Kitty began again impatiently. "It is foolish of you to talk about reproaching yourself. It is not more your fault than anyone else's; not so much as Mrs. Jennings's, but if he spoke to you about it at all, he must have said something, have given some hint. Did he talk to you, Georgiana? You have not told me that yet."

Georgiana gave up what hopes she had had of concealing from Kitty what would make the disappointment far more thorough, and crushing, and as gently as possible managed to convey the fact of William's confession of attachment to herself. She was obliged to say it several times, and in language of unmistakable clearness, before Kitty could grasp her meaning; and even then, as she sat crouched on the ground, her face averted and her cheeks burning with shame, Kitty, who had drawn her hand away, gazed at her in mingled horror and incredulity. In the course of these three days, the notion that Miss Kitty Bennet was
not
the object of William Price's preference had at length penetrated the mind of that young lady, but that her friend should be the chosen one was a thing altogether past comprehension, and the first idea that occurred to her was that there must have been treachery to herself somewhere. Kitty's changes of mood lately had been punctuated by bursts of tears, and this was no exception to the rule, though they were now tears of mortification. Her first angry impulse was to pour out words of blame, accusing Georgiana of not being satisfied with the attentions of Mr. Bertram, but requiring those of his cousin too. Georgiana disdained to reply to such a taunt, but it needed all her patience, all her tenderness, to persuade Kitty out of her bitter frame of mind, and to endeavour to heal the wound to the poor girl's vanity, which had indeed all through been more deeply involved than her affections, little though she realized it. Combined with a love of importance, and the encouragement given by her friends, it had carried her on a wave of excitement through the past months, and had helped to fix her hopes more firmly on William Price than any knowledge of his character, any real congeniality in their natures could have done. But she could not be aware of all this, and there was no immediate comprehension to make the disappointment less acute.

It certainly was consoling to feel that everyone else must have been to blame, that everybody had been equally deceived; that even Georgiana herself had been taken by surprise, and was now heaping upon herself the severest reproaches, while she implored Kitty's forgiveness--not, Kitty discerned in a puzzled way, for having received Mr. Price's proposals, but for having helped to foster the deception which had reacted so cruelly upon her friend. Above all, it would have been a relief, having discovered that Mr. Price must have acted atrociously, to say so, and the more Kitty thought of it, the more she resented his conduct. But Georgiana would not admit this; she would only allow that it was all utterly inexplicable, but that they could not judge fairly of Mr. Price, not being able to see his point of view, and that if that was clear to them, she was sure that he would be found to have acted honestly all the way through.

Kitty immediately suspected that Georgiana had been won round to the said point of view, and began to question her closely as to what had passed between them; but Georgiana indignantly repudiated the suggestion, and assured Kitty, in a manner that forbade further discussion, that she had decidedly refused Mr. Price, refused even to listen to him, and had not the slightest expectation of ever seeing or hearing from him again. She added, that she had refrained from telling Elizabeth, or any of the others, about Mr. Price's offer, and thought it would be best if Kitty decided to do the same, to which, as she had expected, Kitty willingly agreed.

Nothing, in fact, could have suited Kitty better, in the circumstances, than a compact of silence. At the end of their long conversation, when Georgiana left her, by far the more exhausted in spirits of the two, she had begun to have some of the sensations of an injured heroine, and it was much more satisfactory to consider herself badly treated--to have been jilted, to all intents and purposes, than if it came to be known that she had been all the time in love with the wrong man, in which case her position would be shorn of much of its dignity. Her sisters' sympathy was very acceptable to her, and when Jane invited her to return with her to Desborough for a time, she gladly promised to do so, knowing that it would not at first be at all comfortable to remain with Georgiana, the one person who knew the whole story. It was therefore arranged that Jane and Miss Bingley should defer their journey for two days more, when it was hoped she would be quite equal to travelling with them.

The only drawback to the plan, as far as she was concerned, was Miss Bingley's presence for another fortnight at Desborough. That lady had not troubled herself to make any conjectures with regard to William Price's departure, but frankly told Jane and Georgiana that it was exactly what she had expected. She at least had never been misled; she had never supposed Mr. Price to be in love with Miss Bennet or anyone else. She could not imagine why they had all persuaded themselves of it. Nothing was clearer than that he was a young man quite heart-whole. Jane protested, but Georgiana made no comment, only begging her friend privately not to refer to the subject in Kitty's hearing.

The day arrived, Mr. Bingley's carriage again drove to the door, and the three ladies took their seats in it, Kitty's farewell glance being given towards the spot where she had last seen William Price. With their going, the whole episode seemed to be finally closed, and Georgiana turned to re-enter the house, and to take up the duties of a life which, in one short week, seemed to have been robbed of almost all its brightness. She had been making an unsuccessful struggle against low spirits, ever since the ill-omened day of the ball, and being unable to dismiss, had tried hard to account for, the strange sense of depression, of loneliness, and loss, which assailed her continually. It was not only sorrow for Kitty's disappointment, or regret for her own share in it, nor was it the estrangement that had arisen between them; no, it was not a vision of Kitty that so constantly obtruded itself upon her thoughts, but of a very different person, one whose ardent looks and words insisted on being remembered, whose voice she seemed to hear again pleading for what she dared not give. Every detail of their conversation in the gallery crowded upon Georgiana's memory, once she had made her confession to Kitty, and would admit these thoughts; they would not be denied, as she had denied him a hearing, but came back to her with a vivid clearness and an irresistible appeal.

She remembered how he had described the beginnings and the growth of his attachment to her, and looking back over the course of their acquaintance, countless incidents stood out, to verify all he had said. When no longer viewed through Kitty's illusions, every one of their meetings and conversations was seen in its true light, consolidating their friendship, giving each an insight into the other's character. Why was it such a joy, though an indescribably painful one, to recall these things, to live again through the moments spent in the gallery? Georgiana's heart answered her, and she felt that the answer must always have been there, though she had only just awakened to it. It was a joy because everything connected with William Price must be a joy to her, himself, his nobleness, his true worth, and the knowledge that he cared for her, but it was pain, because, sweet though it was to hear what he had to tell her, it was a disloyalty to her friend to listen, the friend whose life had perhaps been spoilt by their mistake. How could she ever think of being happy as long as that friend suffered? For despite her grief at the thought that she had lost him for ever, that she had refused his love and he would never know now that she loved him in return, yet Georgiana felt that she could not have acted differently. Even had she known at the moment he spoke, what he was to her, she could not have been so traitorous as to take what Kitty longed for, from under her very eyes; and she was glad that Kitty did not guess at the extent of the sacrifice.

THE DEPARTURE OF THE ladies for Desborough left a small party at Pemberley, for several days previously Colonel Fitzwilliam had gone with his horses to Leicestershire, and good accounts of the hunting prospects had been received from him. The Darcys were not, however, to remain for long alone, for the arrival of Mrs. Garret and Miss Crawford had been fixed for a date early in the following week. Elizabeth delayed no further in preparing Georgiana for their visit, and at same time communicated to her the fact which she had learnt from Mrs. Wentworth, of Miss Crawford's not being engaged to Sir Walter Elliot. Georgiana listened with the greatest interest, and joined warmly in the expression of Elizabeth's hopes that Colonel Fitzwilliam might yet be made happy, although for the present there was nothing to be done but to try to make Miss Crawford feel at home and comfortable among them all.

"I shall confine my efforts solely to that," said Elizabeth laughingly. "It would be useless as well as dangerous to attempt any further matchmaking until we know the extent of feeling on
both
sides, for that want of that knowledge has made us singularly unsuccessful lately, has it not, Georgiana?"

Georgiana assented but could not smile; for just then only the tragical side of unrequited love was turned towards her. A brief letter of thanks had been received by his hostess from William Price, saying all that was necessary in a matter simple and sincere, and closing with a message of "greetings and remembrance to all your family." Georgiana's cheeks burned as she handed it back, and she was glad to turn away, and take her little niece upon her lap, while Darcy, glancing over the letter, said: "He seems an agreeable, manly young fellow, from what I saw of him; I should be sorry to think he would treat a girl ill."

"A girl's fancy does not always keep pace with commonsense, in such a case as the one you speak of," said his wife. "And as I told you, I do not think Kitty was very wisely counselled from the first."

"Probably not," said Darcy, "a young man at his age and in his profession is likely to flutter the dovecotes quite unconsciously. But there was something so frank and pleasing about him that one would wish to believe him thoroughly estimable."

Georgiana, through the little one's chatter, heard these words with delight; that William Price should have gained her brother's good opinion was a source of rejoicing, even though that advantage might now avail him nothing.

Miss Crawford looked very thin and ill when she arrived, and the first part of her visit passed very quietly. She spent the chief of her time in her own rooms, descending only to join the family at dinner and during the evening, and when not talking to Elizabeth, seemed to find her greatest pleasure in listening to Georgiana's music. Mrs. Grant watched over her with unremitting solicitude, but by no means treated her as a sick person, evidently desiring that she should rouse herself, take an interest in things around her, and make whatever exertion she felt equal to. The tranquility of the life exactly suited her, and before many days an improvement in her health and spirits became noticeable. She was able to take drives in the mildest part of the day, or go for short walks through the pleasure grounds when the frosts of December came in, and the mornings were bright and invigorating. The beauty of the country around, the healthiness of the air, and the quiet kindness of her host and hostess, gradually had their effect upon a troubled mind and a weakened body; and Colonel Fitzwilliam's name was barely mentioned, Lady Catherine de Bourgh's never.

One morning, when Georgiana and Mrs. Grant had walked down to the Rectory, Elizabeth was sitting with her guest, and with the view of entertaining her, gave her a description of the charades, not omitting the energetic part played by Mr. Bertram in organizing them. Mary's colour changed a little on first hearing his name, but she gave all her attention to the recital, and it was not until some minutes later, when silence had fallen between them, that she said suddenly: "I wonder if Mr. Bertram or Mr. Price spoke of me to you Mrs. Darcy. Were you aware that I knew them both?"