Chapter 44

ELIZABETH had settled it that Mr. Darcy would bring his sister to visit her the very day after her reaching Pemberley; and was, consequently, resolved not to be out of sight of the inn the whole of that morning. But her conclusion was false; for on the very morning after their own arrival at Lambton these visitors came. They had been walking about the place with some of their new friends, and were just returned to the inn to dress themselves for dining with the same family, when the sound of a carriage drew them to a window, and they saw a gentleman and lady in a curricle driving up the street. Elizabeth, immediately recognizing the livery, guessed what it meant, and imparted no small degree of surprise to her relations, by acquainting them with the honour which she expected. Her uncle and aunt were all amazement; and the embarrassment of her manner as she spoke, joined to the circumstance itself, and many of the circumstances of the preceding day, opened to them a new idea on the business. Nothing had ever suggested it before, but they now felt that there was no other way of accounting for such attentions from such a quarter than by supposing a partiality for their niece. While these newly-born notions were passing in their heads, the perturbation of Elizabeth’s feelings was every moment increasing. She was quite amazed at her own discomposure; but, amongst other causes of disquiet, she dreaded lest the partiality of the brother should have said too much in her favour; and, more than commonly anxious to please, she naturally suspected that every power of pleasing would fail her.

Elizabeth had decided that Mr. Darcy would bring his sister to visit the day after his sister reached Pemberley. So she was determined to stay within sight of the inn all that morning. But she was mistaken. The visitors came the very morning after Elizabeth and her relatives arrived at Lambton. Elizabeth, her uncle, and her aunt had been walking around the town with some new friends. They had just returned to the inn to dress for dinner with the same family. The sound of a carriage drew them to a window. They saw a gentleman and a lady driving up the street in a light, two-wheeled carriage. Elizabeth immediately recognized the servants’ uniform and guessed what the arrival meant. She greatly surprised her relatives by telling them about the visit she expected to receive. Her uncle and aunt were utterly astonished. Elizabeth’s embarrassed manner, the visit itself, and many events of the previous day suggested a new explanation. Nothing had ever suggested such an idea before. But now they felt that only a fondness for their niece could explain such attention from someone like Mr. Darcy. While these new ideas passed through their minds, Elizabeth grew more unsettled by the moment. She was quite amazed at her own nervousness. But among her other worries, she feared that her brother’s fondness might have led him to praise her too highly. More anxious than usual to please, she naturally suspected that all her ability to do so would fail her.

She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen; and as she walked up and down the room, endeavouring to compose herself, saw such looks of inquiring surprise in her uncle and aunt as made everything worse.

She stepped back from the window, afraid of being seen. As she paced the room, trying to calm herself, she noticed her uncle and aunt watching her with questioning surprise. Their looks made everything worse.

Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, and this formidable introduction took place. With astonishment did Elizabeth see that her new acquaintance was at least as much embarrassed as herself. Since her being at Lambton, she had heard that Miss Darcy was exceedingly proud; but the observation of a very few minutes convinced her that she was only exceedingly shy. She found it difficult to obtain even a word from her beyond a monosyllable.

Miss Darcy and her brother arrived, and the dreaded introduction took place. Elizabeth was astonished to see that her new acquaintance was at least as embarrassed as she was. Since arriving at Lambton, Elizabeth had heard that Miss Darcy was extremely proud. But after watching her for just a few minutes, Elizabeth was convinced that Miss Darcy was only extremely shy. Elizabeth found it difficult to get more than a one-syllable answer from her.

Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth; and, though little more than sixteen, her figure was formed, and her appearance womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother, but there was sense and good-humour in her face, and her manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle. Elizabeth, who had expected to find in her as acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been, was much relieved by discerning such different feelings.

Miss Darcy was tall and more broadly built than Elizabeth. Though barely over sixteen, she had a fully developed figure and looked womanly and graceful. She was less attractive than her brother, but her face showed intelligence and good humor. Her manners were entirely modest and gentle. Elizabeth had expected her to be as sharp and self-assured an observer as Mr. Darcy had ever been. She was greatly relieved to find Miss Darcy so different.

They had not been long together before Darcy told her that Bingley was also coming to wait on her; and she had barely time to express her satisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Bingley’s quick step was heard on the stairs, and in a moment he entered the room. All Elizabeth’s anger against him had been long done away; but had she still felt any, it could hardly have stood its ground against the unaffected cordiality with which he expressed himself on seeing her again. He inquired in a friendly, though general, way, after her family, and looked and spoke with the same good-humoured ease that he had ever done.

They had not been together long when Darcy told her that Bingley was also coming to visit her. She barely had time to express her pleasure and prepare for his visit before hearing Bingley’s quick footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, he entered the room. All Elizabeth’s anger toward him had long since faded. But even if she had still felt any anger, his warm, sincere greeting could hardly have failed to overcome it. He asked about her family in a friendly way, though without asking about anyone in particular. He looked and spoke with the same easy good humor as always.

To Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he was scarcely a less interesting personage than to herself. They had long wished to see him. The whole party before them, indeed, excited a lively attention. The suspicions which had just arisen of Mr. Darcy and their niece, directed their observation towards each with an earnest, though guarded, inquiry; and they soon drew from those inquiries the full conviction that one of them at least knew what it was to love. Of the lady’s sensations they remained a little in doubt; but that the gentleman was overflowing with admiration was evident enough.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner found him almost as interesting as she did. They had long wanted to meet him. In fact, the whole group before them held their keen interest. They had just begun to suspect something between Mr. Darcy and their niece. So they watched both closely but discreetly, looking for signs of affection. Their observations soon convinced them that at least one of the two knew what it meant to be in love. They remained a little unsure of the lady’s feelings. But the gentleman was clearly overflowing with admiration.

Elizabeth, on her side, had much to do. She wanted to ascertain the feelings of each of her visitors, she wanted to compose her own, and to make herself agreeable to all; and in the latter object, where she feared most to fail, she was most sure of success, for those to whom she endeavoured to give pleasure were pre-possessed in her favour. Bingley was ready, Georgiana was eager, and Darcy determined, to be pleased.

Elizabeth, for her part, had much to do. She wanted to understand each visitor’s feelings, calm her own, and make herself pleasant company for all. She feared failing most at pleasing everyone, yet that was where she was most certain to succeed. After all, the people she hoped to please already thought well of her. Bingley was ready to be pleased, Georgiana was eager, and Darcy was determined.

In seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturally flew to her sister; and oh! how ardently did she long to know whether any of his were directed in a like manner. Sometimes she could fancy that he talked less than on former occasions, and once or twice pleased herself with the notion that, as he looked at her, he was trying to trace a resemblance. But, though this might be imaginary, she could not be deceived as to his behaviour to Miss Darcy, who had been set up as a rival to Jane. No look appeared on either side that spoke particular regard. Nothing occurred between them that could justify the hopes of his sister. On this point she was soon satisfied; and two or three little circumstances occurred ere they parted, which, in her anxious interpretation, denoted a recollection of Jane, not untinctured by tenderness, and a wish of saying more that might lead to the mention of her, had he dared. He observed to her, at a moment when the others were talking together, and in a tone which had something of real regret, that it “was a very long time since he had had the pleasure of seeing her;” and, before she could reply, he added, “It is above eight months. We have not met since the 26th of November, when we were all dancing together at Netherfield.”

Seeing Bingley naturally made her think of her sister. And oh, how eagerly she longed to know whether he was thinking of her sister too! Sometimes she imagined he talked less than he had before. Once or twice, she pleased herself by imagining he was looking for a family resemblance as he watched her. But although she might have imagined all this, she could not mistake his behaviour towards Miss Darcy. Miss Darcy had been presented as a rival to Jane. Neither looked at the other with any special affection. Nothing happened between them to justify his sister’s hopes. She was soon satisfied on that point. Before they parted, two or three small incidents occurred that she anxiously interpreted as signs of tender memories of Jane. She also took them as signs that he wanted to say more, perhaps leading to Jane’s name, if he dared. While the others were talking together, he spoke to her in a tone of genuine regret. He remarked that it “was a very long time since he had had the pleasure of seeing her.” Before she could reply, he added, “It has been over eight months. We have not met since the 26th of November, when we were all dancing together at Netherfield.”

Elizabeth was pleased to find his memory so exact; and he afterwards took occasion to ask her, when unattended to by any of the rest, whether all her sisters were at Longbourn. There was not much in the question, nor in the preceding remark; but there was a look and a manner which gave them meaning.

Elizabeth was pleased that he remembered so accurately. Later, when no one else was paying attention, he asked her whether all her sisters were at Longbourn. Neither the question nor his earlier remark said much on its own. But his expression and manner gave both meaning.

It was not often that she could turn her eyes on Mr. Darcy himself; but whenever she did catch a glimpse she saw an expression of general complaisance, and in all that he said, she heard an accent so far removed from hauteur or disdain of his companions, as convinced her that the improvement of manners which she had yesterday witnessed, however temporary its existence might prove, had at least outlived one day. When she saw him thus seeking the acquaintance, and courting the good opinion of people with whom any intercourse a few months ago would have been a disgrace; when she saw him thus civil, not only to herself, but to the very relations whom he had openly disdained, and recollected their last lively scene in Hunsford Parsonage, the difference, the change was so great, and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she could hardly restrain her astonishment from being visible. Never, even in the company of his dear friends at Netherfield, or his dignified relations at Rosings, had she seen him so desirous to please, so free from self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now, when no importance could result from the success of his endeavours, and when even the acquaintance of those to whom his attentions were addressed, would draw down the ridicule and censure of the ladies both of Netherfield and Rosings.

She could not often look directly at Mr. Darcy, but whenever she caught a glimpse, he looked pleasant and agreeable. In everything he said, his tone was far removed from arrogance or contempt for his companions. She was convinced that the improvement in his manners she had noticed yesterday had lasted at least another day. How much longer the improvement might last remained uncertain. Now he was seeking the acquaintance and good opinion of people he would have been ashamed to associate with a few months ago. He was polite not only to her, but also to the very relatives he had openly scorned. As she watched him, she remembered their last heated encounter at Hunsford Parsonage. The change was so great, and struck her so strongly, that she could hardly keep her astonishment from showing. She had never seen him so eager to please, so free from self-importance or stiff reserve. He had never behaved this way even with his dear friends at Netherfield or his distinguished relatives at Rosings. Yet now, his efforts could bring him no social advantage, even if they succeeded. Simply knowing the people he was treating so attentively would bring him ridicule and criticism from the ladies of both Netherfield and Rosings.

Their visitors stayed with them above half an hour; and when they arose to depart, Mr. Darcy called on his sister to join him in expressing their wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and Miss Bennet, to dinner at Pemberley, before they left the country. Miss Darcy, though with a diffidence which marked her little in the habit of giving invitations, readily obeyed. Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece, desirous of knowing how she, whom the invitation most concerned, felt disposed as to its acceptance, but Elizabeth had turned away her head. Presuming, however, that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment than any dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond of society, a perfect willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage for her attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on.

Their visitors stayed for more than half an hour. As they rose to leave, Mr. Darcy asked his sister to join him in inviting their hosts to dinner. They hoped Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Bennet would dine at Pemberley before leaving the area. Miss Darcy readily agreed, though her shyness showed how little practice she had at giving invitations. Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece, wanting to know whether she, the person most concerned, wished to accept. But Elizabeth had turned her head away. Mrs. Gardiner assumed, however, that this deliberate avoidance showed temporary embarrassment rather than any dislike of the invitation. Her husband, who enjoyed company, also seemed perfectly willing to accept. So she ventured to accept on Elizabeth’s behalf, and they settled on the day after next.

Bingley expressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing Elizabeth again, having still a great deal to say to her, and many inquiries to make after all their Hertfordshire friends. Elizabeth, construing all this into a wish of hearing her speak of her sister, was pleased; and on this account, as well as some others, found herself, when their visitors left them, capable of considering the last half hour with some satisfaction, though while it was passing the enjoyment of it had been little. Eager to be alone, and fearful of inquiries or hints from her uncle and aunt, she stayed with them only long enough to hear their favourable opinion of Bingley, and then hurried away to dress.

Bingley said he was delighted to be sure of seeing Elizabeth again. He still had a great deal to say to her and many questions about all their Hertfordshire friends. Elizabeth took all this to mean he wanted to hear her talk about her sister, and she was pleased. For this reason, and some others, she could look back on the last half hour with some satisfaction once their visitors left. Yet she had found little enjoyment in the visit itself. She was eager to be alone and feared questions or hints from her uncle and aunt. So she stayed only long enough to hear their favourable opinion of Bingley, then hurried away to dress.

But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s curiosity; it was not their wish to force her communication. It was evident that she was much better acquainted with Mr. Darcy than they had before any idea of; it was evident that he was very much in love with her. They saw much to interest, but nothing to justify inquiry.

But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s curiosity. They had no wish to pressure her into sharing anything. Clearly, she knew Mr. Darcy much better than they had ever imagined. Clearly, he was very much in love with her. They found much to interest them, but nothing that justified asking questions.

Of Mr. Darcy it was now a matter of anxiety to think well; and, as far as their acquaintance reached, there was no fault to find. They could not be untouched by his politeness; and had they drawn his character from their own feelings and his servant’s report, without any reference to any other account, the circle in Hertfordshire to which he was known would not have recognized it for Mr. Darcy. There was now an interest, however, in believing the housekeeper; and they soon became sensible that the authority of a servant, who had known him since he was four years old, and whose own manners indicated respectability, was not to be hastily rejected. Neither had anything occurred in the intelligence of their Lambton friends that could materially lessen its weight. They had nothing to accuse him of but pride; pride he probably had, and if not, it would certainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small market town where the family did not visit. It was acknowledged, however, that he was a liberal man, and did much good among the poor.

They were now anxious to think well of Mr. Darcy. And from what they had seen of him, they could find no fault. His politeness could not fail to impress them. Suppose they had judged him only by their own feelings and his servant’s account, ignoring everything else they had heard. Their picture of him would have been unrecognizable to the people who knew him in Hertfordshire. Now, however, they had a reason to want to believe the housekeeper. They soon realized that her account should not be dismissed lightly. She had known him since he was four, and her own manners showed her to be respectable. Nor had their friends in Lambton told them anything that could seriously weaken her account. Those friends accused him of nothing but pride. He probably was proud. But even if he was not, people in a small market town would certainly think so when his family never visited. Still, they acknowledged that he was generous and did much good among the poor.

With respect to Wickham, the travellers soon found that he was not held there in much estimation; for though the chief of his concerns with the son of his patron were imperfectly understood, it was yet a well-known fact that, on his quitting Derbyshire, he had left many debts behind him, which Mr. Darcy afterwards discharged.

As for Wickham, the travellers soon found that he was not highly regarded there. For although his dealings with his patron’s son were not fully understood, his unpaid debts were well known. He had left many debts behind when he left Derbyshire, and Mr. Darcy had later paid them off.

As for Elizabeth, her 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; and 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, that could be so called. 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 feelings; and 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 good-will 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 excited 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 the renewal of his addresses.

As for Elizabeth, her thoughts returned to Pemberley even more that evening than the night before. Although the evening seemed long as it passed, it was not long enough to settle her feelings toward one person there. She lay awake for two whole hours, trying to understand those feelings. She certainly did not hate him. No, her hatred had disappeared long ago. For almost as long, she had been ashamed of ever feeling anything that could be called dislike for him. Recognizing his good qualities had made her respect him, though she had resisted that respect at first. For some time now, however, respecting him had no longer gone against her feelings. What she had heard yesterday spoke strongly in his favor and showed his character in such a kind light. Her respect had therefore grown into something warmer. But beyond respect and esteem, she had another reason for feeling goodwill toward him, one she could not ignore. It was gratitude. She was grateful not merely because he had once loved her, but because he still loved her enough to forgive her. He had forgiven all her irritability and bitterness when she rejected him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her refusal. She had been convinced he would avoid her as his greatest enemy. Yet at this chance meeting, he seemed especially eager to keep up their acquaintance. He made no improper display of affection and showed no unusual behavior when only the two of them were concerned. Yet he was seeking her friends’ good opinion and was determined to introduce her to his sister. Such a change in so proud a man inspired not only astonishment but gratitude. The change must come from love, passionate love. Seen in that light, the feelings his change stirred in her were worth encouraging. They were by no means unpleasant, though she could not define them exactly. She respected him, valued him, felt grateful to him, and took a genuine interest in his happiness. She only needed to discover how much she wanted his happiness to depend on her. She also wondered how far encouraging him to propose again would make them both happy. She imagined she still had the power to bring about another proposal.

It had been settled in the evening, between the aunt and niece, that such a striking civility as Miss Darcy’s, in coming to 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. Elizabeth was pleased; though when she asked herself the reason, she had very little to say in reply.

That evening, the aunt and niece had agreed that they ought to return Miss Darcy’s remarkable courtesy. Miss Darcy had visited them on the very day she arrived at Pemberley, having arrived only for a late breakfast. Though they could not equal her courtesy, they ought to make some effort to be polite in return. They had therefore agreed that visiting her at Pemberley the next morning would be a very good idea. So they were to go. Elizabeth was pleased, though when she asked herself why, she could find very little to say.

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 by noon.

Mr. Gardiner left them soon after breakfast. The plan to go fishing had been revived the day before. He had firmly agreed to meet some of the gentlemen at Pemberley by noon.