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CHAPTER 43
Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of Pemberley Woods
with some perturbation; and when at length they turned in at the lodge, her spirits
were in a high flutter.
The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground.
They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a
beautiful wood stretching over a wide extent.
Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every
remarkable spot and point of view.
They gradually ascended for half-a-mile, and then found themselves at the top of a
considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by
Pemberley House, situated on the opposite
side of a valley, into which the road with some abruptness wound.
It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed
by a ridge of high *** hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance
was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance.
Its banks were neither formal nor falsely adorned.
Elizabeth was delighted.
She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had
been so little counteracted by an awkward taste.
They were all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt
that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!
They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and, while
examining the nearer aspect of the house, all her apprehension of meeting its owner
returned.
She dreaded lest the chambermaid had been mistaken.
On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the hall; and Elizabeth, as
they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to wonder at her being where she
was.
The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking elderly woman, much less fine, and more
civil, than she had any notion of finding her.
They followed her into the dining-parlour.
It was a large, well proportioned room, handsomely fitted up.
Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went to a window to enjoy its prospect.
The hill, crowned with wood, which they had descended, receiving increased abruptness
from the distance, was a beautiful object.
Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene, the
river, the trees scattered on its banks and the winding of the valley, as far as she
could trace it, with delight.
As they passed into other rooms these objects were taking different positions;
but from every window there were beauties to be seen.
The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of
its proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration of his taste, that it was
neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less
of splendour, and more real elegance, than the furniture of Rosings.
"And of this place," thought she, "I might have been mistress!
With these rooms I might now have been familiarly acquainted!
Instead of viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and
welcomed to them as visitors my uncle and aunt.
But no,"--recollecting herself--"that could never be; my uncle and aunt would have been
lost to me; I should not have been allowed to invite them."
This was a lucky recollection--it saved her from something very like regret.
She longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master was really absent, but
had not the courage for it.
At length however, the question was asked by her uncle; and she turned away with
alarm, while Mrs. Reynolds replied that he was, adding, "But we expect him to-morrow,
with a large party of friends."
How rejoiced was Elizabeth that their own journey had not by any circumstance been
delayed a day! Her aunt now called her to look at a
picture.
She approached and saw the likeness of Mr. Wickham, suspended, amongst several other
miniatures, over the mantelpiece. Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how she
liked it.
The housekeeper came forward, and told them it was a picture of a young gentleman, the
son of her late master's steward, who had been brought up by him at his own expense.
"He is now gone into the army," she added; "but I am afraid he has turned out very
wild." Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with a
smile, but Elizabeth could not return it.
"And that," said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures, "is my master--
and very like him. It was drawn at the same time as the other-
-about eight years ago."
"I have heard much of your master's fine person," said Mrs. Gardiner, looking at the
picture; "it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you can tell us whether it is
like or not."
Mrs. Reynolds respect for Elizabeth seemed to increase on this intimation of her
knowing her master. "Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?"
Elizabeth coloured, and said: "A little."
"And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma'am?"
"Yes, very handsome."
"I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery upstairs you will see a finer,
larger picture of him than this.
This room was my late master's favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they
used to be then. He was very fond of them."
This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham's being among them.
Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn when she was
only eight years old.
"And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?" said Mrs. Gardiner.
"Oh! yes--the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so accomplished!--She
plays and sings all day long.
In the next room is a new instrument just come down for her--a present from my
master; she comes here to-morrow with him."
Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were very easy and pleasant, encouraged her
communicativeness by his questions and remarks; Mrs. Reynolds, either by pride or
attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her master and his sister.
"Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?"
"Not so much as I could wish, sir; but I dare say he may spend half his time here;
and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months."
"Except," thought Elizabeth, "when she goes to Ramsgate."
"If your master would marry, you might see more of him."
"Yes, sir; but I do not know when that will be.
I do not know who is good enough for him." Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled.
Elizabeth could not help saying, "It is very much to his credit, I am sure, that
you should think so."
"I say no more than the truth, and everybody will say that knows him," replied
the other.
Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far; and she listened with increasing
astonishment as the housekeeper added, "I have never known a cross word from him in
my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old."
This was praise, of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to her ideas.
That he was not a good-tempered man had been her firmest opinion.
Her keenest attention was awakened; she longed to hear more, and was grateful to
her uncle for saying:
"There are very few people of whom so much can be said.
You are lucky in having such a master." "Yes, sir, I know I am.
If I were to go through the world, I could not meet with a better.
But I have always observed, that they who are good-natured when children, are good-
natured when they grow up; and he was always the sweetest-tempered, most
generous-hearted boy in the world."
Elizabeth almost stared at her. "Can this be Mr. Darcy?" thought she.
"His father was an excellent man," said Mrs. Gardiner.
"Yes, ma'am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him--just as affable
to the poor." Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and
was impatient for more.
Mrs. Reynolds could interest her on no other point.
She related the subjects of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price
of the furniture, in vain.
Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family prejudice to which he attributed her
excessive commendation of her master, soon led again to the subject; and she dwelt
with energy on his many merits as they proceeded together up the great staircase.
"He is the best landlord, and the best master," said she, "that ever lived; not
like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but themselves.
There is not one of his tenants or servants but will give him a good name.
Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw anything of it.
To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men."
"In what an amiable light does this place him!" thought Elizabeth.
"This fine account of him," whispered her aunt as they walked, "is not quite
consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend."
"Perhaps we might be deceived."
"That is not very likely; our authority was too good."
On reaching the spacious lobby above they were shown into a very pretty sitting-room,
lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than the apartments below; and
were informed that it was but just done to
give pleasure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to the room when last at
Pemberley.
"He is certainly a good brother," said Elizabeth, as she walked towards one of the
windows. Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy's
delight, when she should enter the room.
"And this is always the way with him," she added.
"Whatever can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment.
There is nothing he would not do for her."
The picture-gallery, and two or three of the principal bedrooms, were all that
remained to be shown.
In the former were many good paintings; but Elizabeth knew nothing of the art; and from
such as had been already visible below, she had willingly turned to look at some
drawings of Miss Darcy's, in crayons, whose
subjects were usually more interesting, and also more intelligible.
In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have little to
fix the attention of a stranger.
Elizabeth walked in quest of the only face whose features would be known to her.
At last it arrested her--and she beheld a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy, with
such a smile over the face as she remembered to have sometimes seen when he
looked at her.
She stood several minutes before the picture, in earnest contemplation, and
returned to it again before they quitted the gallery.
Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father's lifetime.
There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle sensation
towards the original than she had ever felt at the height of their acquaintance.
The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds was of no trifling nature.
What praise is more valuable than the praise of an intelligent servant?
As a brother, a landlord, a master, she considered how many people's happiness were
in his guardianship!--how much of pleasure or pain was it in his power to bestow!--how
much of good or evil must be done by him!
Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his
character, and as she stood before the canvas on which he was represented, and
fixed his eyes upon herself, she thought of
his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever raised before;
she remembered its warmth, and softened its impropriety of expression.
When all of the house that was open to general inspection had been seen, they
returned downstairs, and, taking leave of the housekeeper, were consigned over to the
gardener, who met them at the hall-door.
As they walked across the hall towards the river, Elizabeth turned back to look again;
her uncle and aunt stopped also, and while the former was conjecturing as to the date
of the building, the owner of it himself
suddenly came forward from the road, which led behind it to the stables.
They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his appearance,
that it was impossible to avoid his sight.
Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest
blush.
He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immovable from surprise; but shortly
recovering himself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in
terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.
She had instinctively turned away; but stopping on his approach, received his
compliments with an embarrassment impossible to be overcome.
Had his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture they had just
been examining, been insufficient to assure the other two that they now saw Mr. Darcy,
the gardener's expression of surprise, on
beholding his master, must immediately have told it.
They stood a little aloof while he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and
confused, scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answer she
returned to his civil inquiries after her family.
Amazed at the alteration of his manner since they last parted, every sentence that
he uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea of the
impropriety of her being found there
recurring to her mind, the few minutes in which they continued were some of the most
uncomfortable in her life.
Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he spoke, his accent had none of its usual
sedateness; and he repeated his inquiries as to the time of her having left
Longbourn, and of her having stayed in
Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the distraction of
his thoughts.
At length every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a few moments without
saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took leave.
The others then joined her, and expressed admiration of his figure; but Elizabeth
heard not a word, and wholly engrossed by her own feelings, followed them in silence.
She was overpowered by shame and vexation.
Her coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the world!
How strange it must appear to him! In what a disgraceful light might it not
strike so vain a man!
It might seem as if she had purposely thrown herself in his way again!
Oh! why did she come? Or, why did he thus come a day before he
was expected?
Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his
discrimination; for it was plain that he was that moment arrived--that moment
alighted from his horse or his carriage.
She blushed again and again over the perverseness of the meeting.
And his behaviour, so strikingly altered-- what could it mean?
That he should even speak to her was amazing!--but to speak with such civility,
to inquire after her family!
Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, never had he spoken
with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting.
What a contrast did it offer to his last address in Rosings Park, when he put his
letter into her hand! She knew not what to think, or how to
account for it.
They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and every step was
bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer reach of the woods to which they
were approaching; but it was some time
before Elizabeth was sensible of any of it; and, though she answered mechanically to
the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and seemed to direct her eyes to such
objects as they pointed out, she distinguished no part of the scene.
Her thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might
be, where Mr. Darcy then was.
She longed to know what at the moment was passing in his mind--in what manner he
thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything, she was still dear to him.
Perhaps he had been civil only because he felt himself at ease; yet there had been
that in his voice which was not like ease.
Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing her she could not tell,
but he certainly had not seen her with composure.
At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of mind aroused
her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself.
They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while, ascended some of
the higher grounds; when, in spots where the opening of the trees gave the eye power
to wander, were many charming views of the
valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading many, and
occasionally part of the stream.
Mr. Gardiner expressed a wish of going round the whole park, but feared it might
be beyond a walk. With a triumphant smile they were told that
it was ten miles round.
It settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; which brought them
again, after some time, in a descent among hanging woods, to the edge of the water,
and one of its narrowest parts.
They crossed it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the
scene; it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the valley, here
contracted into a glen, allowed room only
for the stream, and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it.
Elizabeth longed to explore its windings; but when they had crossed the bridge, and
perceived their distance from the house, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great walker,
could go no farther, and thought only of
returning to the carriage as quickly as possible.
Her niece was, therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the
house on the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their progress
was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom
able to indulge the taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in
watching the occasional appearance of some trout in the water, and talking to the man
about them, that he advanced but little.
Whilst wandering on in this slow manner, they were again surprised, and Elizabeth's
astonishment was quite equal to what it had been at first, by the sight of Mr. Darcy
approaching them, and at no great distance.
The walk being here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him
before they met.
Elizabeth, however astonished, was at least more prepared for an interview than before,
and resolved to appear and to speak with calmness, if he really intended to meet
them.
For a few moments, indeed, she felt that he would probably strike into some other path.
The idea lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their view; the turning
past, he was immediately before them.
With a glance, she saw that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to
imitate his politeness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place; but
she had not got beyond the words
"delightful," and "charming," when some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she
fancied that praise of Pemberley from her might be mischievously construed.
Her colour changed, and she said no more.
Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and on her pausing, he asked her if she
would do him the honour of introducing him to her friends.
This was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared; and she could hardly
suppress a smile at his being now seeking the acquaintance of some of those very
people against whom his pride had revolted in his offer to herself.
"What will be his surprise," thought she, "when he knows who they are?
He takes them now for people of fashion."
The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she named their relationship
to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore it, and was not without the
expectation of his decamping as fast as he
could from such disgraceful companions.
That he was surprised by the connection was evident; he sustained it, however, with
fortitude, and so far from going away, turned his back with them, and entered into
conversation with Mr. Gardiner.
Elizabeth could not but be pleased, could not but triumph.
It was consoling that he should know she had some relations for whom there was no
need to blush.
She listened most attentively to all that passed between them, and gloried in every
expression, every sentence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence, his taste,
or his good manners.
The conversation soon turned upon fishing; and she heard Mr. Darcy invite him, with
the greatest civility, to fish there as often as he chose while he continued in the
neighbourhood, offering at the same time to
supply him with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of the stream
where there was usually most sport.
Mrs. Gardiner, who was walking arm-in-arm with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive
of wonder.
Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the compliment must be all
for herself.
Her astonishment, however, was extreme, and continually was she repeating, "Why is he
so altered? From what can it proceed?
It cannot be for me--it cannot be for my sake that his manners are thus softened.
My reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a change as this.
It is impossible that he should still love me."
After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front, the two gentlemen
behind, on resuming their places, after descending to the brink of the river for
the better inspection of some curious
water-plant, there chanced to be a little alteration.
It originated in Mrs. Gardiner, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning,
found Elizabeth's arm inadequate to her support, and consequently preferred her
husband's.
Mr. Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on together.
After a short silence, the lady first spoke.
She wished him to know that she had been assured of his absence before she came to
the place, and accordingly began by observing, that his arrival had been very
unexpected--"for your housekeeper," she
added, "informed us that you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and
indeed, before we left Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately
expected in the country."
He acknowledged the truth of it all, and said that business with his steward had
occasioned his coming forward a few hours before the rest of the party with whom he
had been travelling.
"They will join me early to-morrow," he continued, "and among them are some who
will claim an acquaintance with you--Mr. Bingley and his sisters."
Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow.
Her thoughts were instantly driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's name had been
the last mentioned between them; and, if she might judge by his complexion, his mind
was not very differently engaged.
"There is also one other person in the party," he continued after a pause, "who
more particularly wishes to be known to you.
Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance
during your stay at Lambton?"
The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was too great for her to
know in what manner she acceded to it.
She immediately felt that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted
with her must be the work of her brother, and, without looking farther, it was
satisfactory; it was gratifying to know
that his resentment had not made him think really ill of her.
They now walked on in silence, each of them deep in thought.
Elizabeth was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered and
pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to her
was a compliment of the highest kind.
They soon outstripped the others, and when they had reached the carriage, Mr. and Mrs.
Gardiner were half a quarter of a mile behind.
He then asked her to walk into the house-- but she declared herself not tired, and
they stood together on the lawn. At such a time much might have been said,
and silence was very awkward.
She wanted to talk, but there seemed to be an embargo on every subject.
At last she recollected that she had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and
Dove Dale with great perseverance.
Yet time and her aunt moved slowly--and her patience and her ideas were nearly worn our
before the tete-a-tete was over.
On Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's coming up they were all pressed to go into the house and
take some refreshment; but this was declined, and they parted on each side with
utmost politeness.
Mr. Darcy handed the ladies into the carriage; and when it drove off, Elizabeth
saw him walking slowly towards the house.
The observations of her uncle and aunt now began; and each of them pronounced him to
be infinitely superior to anything they had expected.
"He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming," said her uncle.
"There is something a little stately in him, to be sure," replied her aunt, "but it
is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming.
I can now say with the housekeeper, that though some people may call him proud, I
have seen nothing of it." "I was never more surprised than by his
behaviour to us.
It was more than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for
such attention. His acquaintance with Elizabeth was very
trifling."
"To be sure, Lizzy," said her aunt, "he is not so handsome as Wickham; or, rather, he
has not Wickham's countenance, for his features are perfectly good.
But how came you to tell me that he was so disagreeable?"
Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could; said that she had liked him better
when they had met in Kent than before, and that she had never seen him so pleasant as
this morning.
"But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities," replied her uncle.
"Your great men often are; and therefore I shall not take him at his word, as he might
change his mind another day, and warn me off his grounds."
Elizabeth felt that they had entirely misunderstood his character, but said
nothing.
"From what we have seen of him," continued Mrs. Gardiner, "I really should not have
thought that he could have behaved in so cruel a way by anybody as he has done by
poor Wickham.
He has not an ill-natured look. On the contrary, there is something
pleasing about his mouth when he speaks.
And there is something of dignity in his countenance that would not give one an
unfavourable idea of his heart.
But, to be sure, the good lady who showed us his house did give him a most flaming
character! I could hardly help laughing aloud
sometimes.
But he is a liberal master, I suppose, and that in the eye of a servant comprehends
every virtue."
Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say something in vindication of his
behaviour to Wickham; and therefore gave them to understand, in as guarded a manner
as she could, that by what she had heard
from his relations in Kent, his actions were capable of a very different
construction; and that his character was by no means so faulty, nor Wickham's so
amiable, as they had been considered in Hertfordshire.
In confirmation of this, she related the particulars of all the pecuniary
transactions in which they had been connected, without actually naming her
authority, but stating it to be such as might be relied on.
Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned; but as they were now approaching the scene
of her former pleasures, every idea gave way to the charm of recollection; and she
was too much engaged in pointing out to her
husband all the interesting spots in its environs to think of anything else.
Fatigued as she had been by the morning's walk they had no sooner dined than she set
off again in quest of her former acquaintance, and the evening was spent in
the satisfactions of a intercourse renewed after many years' discontinuance.
The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave Elizabeth much attention
for any of these new friends; and she could do nothing but think, and think with
wonder, of Mr. Darcy's civility, and, above
all, of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister.