Pemberley (18 page)

A silence ensued; and Elizabeth saw that Darcy, who was
thoughtful at first on hearing this, was once again exceedingly good-humoured.

‘Now there you have it, Caroline,' he said. But Elizabeth, in her display of the independence of spirit for which she had ever been known, felt, as all her own memories of recent days returned to her, the old shadows descend on her again.

‘Lizzy!' cried Mrs Bennet down the table. ‘You have been in such a reverie you have forgotten to answer dear sister Gardiner, who has been speaking to you ten minutes at least!'

Elizabeth started; and apologised to her aunt.

‘No, my dear niece, I said only that we are grateful indeed for all the comforts Mr Darcy has provided for us! Did you know that Mrs Reynolds was instructed to bring us all fresh linen, and – in the case of Colonel Kitchiner, I believe – new coat and pantaloons too. Mr Darcy has given us a visit to Pemberley which we shall not forget, dear Lizzy – and he has said to Mr Gardiner that, as soon as the snow melts, he must return and fish the stream at Pemberley.'

Elizabeth said she was delighted at the attentions shown to her family by Mr Darcy. As she said the words, though, she lapsed once more into her private world; she heard Master Roper, as he quizzed Colonel Kitchiner on the Peninsular Wars; and Lady Catherine, as she made a comment on the
grosse pièce
of the meal, a sucking pig on a great platter, with an orange stuck in its mouth. But she cared little, for it was not she who had given directions for this banquet but Mr Darcy – her own directions for a quiet Christmas evening had not touched on such grandeur.

‘I am surprised that dear Mrs Darcy permits cheese to be served in the evening,' said Miss Bingley in a high voice.

Master Roper now described in detail the battle of Borodino; and, as Elizabeth awoke and looked down the table, she saw Miss Bingley listening and talking with great animation – surprising to Elizabeth, for she had not supposed Miss Bingley to take an interest in military matters. There was a reason, though, as she
soon discovered, for Miss Bingley was teasing Mr Darcy on his activities in the campaigns; and he seemed not in the slightest displeased by this – which, Elizabeth thought, was also unexpected.

‘We chased them back to Paris,' cried Colonel Kitchiner, who had arranged his kinves and forks to represent the rout of Napoleon at the hands of the British. The Froggies were running for their lives, I give my word on it.'

‘But Mr Darcy was back and forth and running in two different directions,' said Miss Bingley slyly, ‘were not you, Darcy?'

‘He was a spy for the English,' cried Georgiana. ‘I was too young to understand at the time – my dear brother would be gone so long from Pemberley, and then he would return – and he had saved the lives of so many unfortunates, caught in the path of war!'

‘And so that is how you found the Frenchwoman,' thought Elizabeth, ‘and brought her back here to enjoy her more fully.'

‘What nonsense you talk,' said Mr Darcy, smiling. ‘I made a few visits to Deauville and Le Touquet – but I went purely for my own amusement, I can assure you. My companion Mr Charles Bingley will vouchsafe that!'

‘Sir, your reputation as a man of extraordinary courage preceded you everywhere in France,' cried Colonel Kitchiner.

A weariness overcame Elizabeth, and she stood, to signal that the ladies should accompany her from the banqueting-hall. Mr Darcy smiled at her as she did so. A week or so before, she would have delighted in seeing his approval at her capture of the exact time for the separation of the sexes after dinner. Now she cared little if each and every member of the party stayed imprisoned in the room until the Devil came to take them. She was numb to feeling; she could not return Darcy's smile; she knew only that the detestation he had for children came from his own past – and that he was prepared to cancel the estate workers' children's party on a whim, because he wanted no more young voices in the house: they recalled to him, no doubt, what could have been. She had
been chosen to come and live at Pemberley, as a man would choose a friend, a companion. He had never wanted a child with Elizabeth Bennet, and never would.

Elizabeth left Mrs Bennet in hot pursuit of Lady Catherine – who made every effort to gain her new boudoir without being perceived. She went to say good-night to Jane. Her sister slept all was quiet, and the nurse watched over the crib. Elizabeth entered her own room and closed the door.

She sat long at the dressing-table, and, much later, turned away the maid who came to prepare her for bed.

The house, after sending up the sounds of people retiring for the night – doors closed, shutters were drawn together, footsteps sounded on the floors below – lay deep in stillness, punctured only once by the high voice of a small child, woken suddenly from a dream. Still she sat on, unable to bear her solitary reflection any longer, and turned on her dressing-table stool to face the door. For she heard Darcy's step now. It was unmistakable: firm, measured, but without assertion, the step of one who has trodden every inch of the house since he first learned to walk, and belonged there as unassailably as the pictures on the walls and the druggets of fine carpet which betrayed his coming.

Elizabeth saw the handle of the door turn, and she went to meet him. She could not admit him – her feeling ran too high for that and she could not deny him admittance either; so she found, though she hardly knew what she did, that she took the key from the door and, as she went out, locked the door behind her.

Darcy, whose mood was genial in the extreme, looked for a moment puzzled; then, going down on his knees, he looked up at her and spoke part in earnest, part in jest.

‘My loveliest Elizabeth, what are you thinking of tonight? Are we to sleep in an attic, to savour the novelty of it? Shall we abandon Pemberley and fly secretly abroad, leaving our guests to rule the roost?'

Abroad, thought Elizabeth bitterly; and she was unable to resist
asking Mr Darcy if by ‘abroad' he meant France. ‘The French are no doubt most dear to you,' she said; and was surprised, herself, to find her eyes fill with tears. ‘Your Frenchwoman has very probably a sister there, to whom you can pay your addresses.'

‘What?' cried Mr Darcy, who had risen to his full height and no longer smiled.

‘You cannot deny the existence of such a woman in your life,' said Elizabeth, ‘nor of a child. I must know more of it.'

Darcy's face darkened and he stepped forward, so that the couple, if anyone had spied them there from a distance, would have given the impression that an amicable conversation was in progress. ‘Elizabeth, there has never been another woman in my life. Not a Frenchwoman' – he tried to smile once more, but this he failed to accomplish, for it was clear he was wounded by her allegations – ‘nor a Dutchwoman, nor any other kind of woman, I give you my word! What is all this farrago of nonsense, I pray you tell me at once?'

Elizabeth did not wish to implicate the young librarian, who, as it seemed to her, had supplied this information, so she said nothing. Her heart beat uncomfortably; she did not dare look up at Darcy; but she did not entirely believe him either, for she detected a note of falsity in his voice that she had never heard before.

‘Well?' said Mr Darcy, more calmly. ‘Do we go in to your bedchamber, or do we go to separate quarters? The decision is yours, my dear Elizabeth.'

There was an impetuosity in Elizabeth which could not be checked; the mention of separate quarters set off a chain of reactions over which she found she had no control. She must speak – and speak she did, though Darcy's face became every minute colder and harder, and he stepped back from her in surprise and disdain.

‘How dare Lady Catherine take it upon herself to demand a boudoir exclusively for herself and Miss Bingley?' cried Elizabeth.
‘And poor Georgiana, too, who has fallen into their clutches? Am I not the one to tell Mrs Reynolds where we shall go after dinner? Am I to be disregarded entirely?'

‘You forget, Madam,' said Darcy, with an ominous speed of return, ‘that my aunt is driven to extraordinary measures this year at Pemberley.'

‘And what might they be?' cried Elizabeth, colouring up.

‘Lady Catherine is not accustomed to share meals or drawing-rooms with such as Mrs Bennet,' came the reply. ‘Nor should my sister be forced to sit with Mr Wickham. My aunt is aware, of course, that my love for you overcame the scruples I felt on the occasion of my first proposal of marriage to you, at Hunsford parsonage. She wishes to remain within the family, and respects that love. But she is not enamoured of you, sweet Elizabeth, as I am' – and here Mr Darcy came close and
was
smiling – ‘so it cannot be anticipated that she will tolerate your mother to quite the same extent that I do!'

All this was spoken partly in playful spirit. Elizabeth, who had turned pale, now stood with her arms outstretched behind her, against the door.

‘And now, at last, do we go to bed?' said Mr Darcy.

‘No! I am patronised enough! My mother shall not be insulted by you and your detestable aunt any longer!'

‘My dear Elizabeth, you put me in mind of the theatricals we were used to stage here when my sister was a child,' said Mr Darcy with a twinkle. ‘Sweetest, loveliest Eliza, will you not let me in?'

Elizabeth, by way of reply, unlocked the door to the bedchamber, walked in and closed the door again, with no little vigour. As she did so, she saw Darcy's face and saw on it an expression of hurt pride that made her for an instant regret the spontaneity of her action. But it was too late; she could not forgive him; and she turned the key in the lock from inside. She went to her bed, and for a long time lay silent, until Darcy's
footsteps were heard to go away. Then she wept, from sheer sadness – that the proof of Darcy's lack of real respect and affection for her was now, from the ease with which he delivered insults to her mother, only too plain to see.

The following day saw the departure of the Gardiner party for Rowsley; and of Colonel Kitchiner, escorted by Charles Bingley to the main road to wait for the Manchester state-coach. Elizabeth made her farewells with every outward show of calm; and repeated many times that she looked forward as much as the rest to the ball at New Year's Eve; and Mr Darcy, who was as genial as a host who bids farewell to uninvited guests can be expected to be, did not linger in the hall when they were gone – as would otherwise have been his wont – to talk and jest with his wife. He went directly to the steward's house, across the park, to see to the management of his estates; and left instructions with Mrs Reynolds that he departed himself that night for London, to see to his interests there at Holland Park.

‘London!' cried Mrs Bennet, on receiving this news, as the rest did, on going up to the long gallery after the carriage carrying the Gardiners and Wickhams had gone out of sight. ‘Good gracious, Elizabeth! Does he not take you with him?'

‘I trust Mr Darcy can see to his properties in London without taking his wife every time with him,' replied Elizabeth in a faint voice – for it was as much as she could do to remain calm after the shock of this news. ‘He has often said he is much needed in London; and I saw that this morning brought mail; no doubt he did not find the time to tell us all at leisure of his plans.'

‘Mail there was indeed,' said Lady de Bourgh.

‘I believe there is a fine new opera opened in London,' said Miss Bingley – who was not slow to understand that something was
amiss between Mr and Mrs Darcy – and to show she was glad of it. ‘And urgent business at Boulestin's after, I dare say.'

‘Oh, how I wish I could go to London,' cried Georgiana, showing her seventeen years in the sudden yearning in her voice. ‘It will be dull here, without Darcy, and the ball will be nothing without him.'

‘There will be no ball,' said Lady Catherine. ‘My nephew found time to inform me of his decision to leave for London and not to hold the Pemberley ball this year – even if he did not find time to tell dear cousin Elizabeth.'

‘Excuse me, Madam,' cried Mrs Bennet, who felt the need to protect her daughter – as Elizabeth saw, much to her discomfiture. ‘I am sure there is a good reason for Mr Darcy's failing to tell dear Lizzy. She is always slow at her toilet in the morning – that is it and with the press of people leaving for Rowsley and Yorkshire and the rest, he was unable to find a minute alone with her.'

‘Mama, please …' said Elizabeth.

Her thoughts were in a spin, and Mrs Bennet's efforts made it all the worse. For she recalled, with such violent freshness of memory that it could have been but a day before, how she had hated Darcy when she had first seen him! – how Charles Bingley had described his friend as the most dreadful of beings, when bored on a Sunday evening with nothing to do at Pemberley! She saw now that every evening was become a Sunday evening to him, and that he saw his marriage as a farce. His pride meant that one occasion of her flinching from him – and who would not, when he had so blatantly expressed sympathy with his aunt on the matter of her boudoir, not to mention the secrets lately implied by Mr Gresham? – had him turning away from her and going all the way to London to be as far from her as possible!

To add insult to injury, he had told his aunt, and not her! Oh, it was too much!
He
had not changed, when they exchanged vows:
his
pride was as evident as when they had first met, at Netherfield!
But then why should it be thought that, when two people went to live happily ever after, they
would
do so, unless they understood themselves and each other better? And Mr Darcy – why, he had not even tried!

Elizabeth was mortified to feel tears prick her eyes; and to receive an amused glance from Miss Bingley.

‘It is to be considered fortunate that there will be no ball this year at Pemberley,' said Lady Catherine in sepulchral tones. ‘For we would have found ourselves in the invidious position of welcoming under this august roof an unprincipled scoundrel – two of them, indeed!'