Pemberley (7 page)

‘I welcome any relative of my husband's,' said Elizabeth.

She did not know how she proceeded to assist Mrs Hurst to her
room without misadventure – but this she achieved, glad to show presence of mind when it came to pulling up a sofa, and laying the invalid's foot most tenderly there.

The return of the shooting party having been delayed by a particularly fine display by Mr Gardiner – and, for all his modesty, the good man's cheeks glowed at the compliments on the number of birds he brought down – there was no time before dinner in which Elizabeth could summon Mr Darcy to her side and ask the meaning of Mrs Hurst's strange communication. He went to his room to change; and for the first time in their marriage Elizabeth hesitated by the door and then walked away rather than call for her husband to open and fly into his arms. The letter from Lady Catherine was now the denizen of Mr Darcy's room. Furthermore, the denizen was secret, for he had not divulged its existence to her. Elizabeth wondered how long the letter had been in her husband's possession, for, whatever Mrs Hurst might say, that it had arrived this morning, Elizabeth did not see by what means it could have come. No express passed the lodge, which was remote from the nearest road. No, Mr Darcy must have brought the letter with him from Pemberley. He had then elected to keep silent on the subject of the contents – to his wife at least – for, as Elizabeth thought with some bitterness, he had confided in Mrs Hurst at the most mild of promptings.

Mrs Hurst now called Elizabeth to her room; and, under the pretext of demonstrating the injury to her foot, looked closely at the new chatelaine of Pemberley. What she saw must have provided some satisfaction, for she laughed – before concealing her laughter under the pretence of pain.

‘Is not the arch of my foot exceedingly high, cousin Elizabeth? They say a high arch is a sign of breeding. I have not been able to discern the height of
your
instep, hidden beneath your gown in
such pretty slippers! You have seen enough of
my
lower extremities, dear Lizzy – now let me see yours.'

‘I have matters to attend to,' said Elizabeth, who had no intention of displaying herself in this fashion to Mrs Hurst; and she made to leave the room once more.

‘There have been exquisitely high arches in the Darcy family,' Mrs Hurst called out; ‘and they come directly from Lady Anne Darcy, so I am told. I am sorry we are not permitted to see your feet, Elizabeth – for I can think of nothing more regrettable than a flat-footed heir to Pemberley!'

In her enjoyment of this latest sally, Mrs Hurst forgot herself enough to attempt to place a foot on the ground; and, as she did so, she cried out, lost her footing altogether and subsided on the floor beside the sofa. Her calls for aid went unheeded by Elizabeth, who took time, at least, to call back up the stairs to Mr Bingley's sister, in tones both consolatory and high-spirited.

‘Lizzy! I am on the floor – am I to crawl up alone?' came the voice of Mrs Hurst as Elizabeth descended further.

‘I fear so,' the answer returned clearly. ‘For there is a saying, Mrs Hurst, that you would do well to recall as you try.'

‘And what can that be?'

‘Why, “Pride comes before a Fall”,' said Elizabeth loud and clear, and fearing nothing from the glance of a maid who came out on the landing to see where the noise was from. Then, still holding the information the sister of her husband's dearest friend had just handed to her, of the unexpected addition to the Christmas party at Pemberley, she went to the sitting-room and tried to compose her thoughts.

Her mood was soon sombre.

The existence of an heir to Pemberley, unknown to Elizabeth, produced in her a contrariety of emotions. There was no reason – of course there was not – to keep from her the facts of an entail. Indeed, there was also no reason to bring the matter to her attention, either. Any mention might have proved indelicate in the
extreme. Yet Elizabeth felt that she was precarious now, for the first time since she had plighted her troth with Mr Darcy. Was he as content as he seemed, with the love he so frequently and ardently announced to her? Was being a wife enough, for him and for Pemberley? Was she not already a failed mother?

Elizabeth resolved to put these ideas at the back of her mind; and for the sake of her aunt and uncle Gardiner – the latter beaming throughout the meal at the sincere flattery paid him by Mr Hurst and Mr Darcy – she was at her most light-hearted and charming. Darcy, too, threw her such a succession of amorous looks, quickly stifled always for fear of interception but detectable by Elizabeth, that she soon wondered at her feelings earlier. There could be little doubt that the reason for Darcy's reticence on the subject of Master Roper was similar to her own some time before at Pemberley, when she had found herself asking for the favour of Mrs Bennet and her sisters' company at Christmas. Darcy might feel that a strange young man as a late addition to the party would cause a constraint for Elizabeth with her own family. And that Lady Catherine had demanded he be invited! Darcy would know Elizabeth had guessed at the animosity of his aunt towards her: from her meeting with Lady Catherine at Longbourn and the extreme insolence of the latter in asking direct questions as to her intentions regarding Mr Darcy as a possible husband, there could be little doubt about the extent of her disapproval of the new Mrs Darcy. And Darcy must know, though it had never been said between them, that Elizabeth had also guessed at the content of some of the previous letters from Lady Catherine to her nephew. That they were abusive of her to the utmost degree she doubted not at all. She loved Darcy for noting her sense of dread at Lady Catherine's impending arrival to stay at Pemberley for the first time since their marriage. He had clearly decided to save the information that his aunt had taken the liberty of inviting their young cousin, for their return to Pemberley from the lodge. It was a measure of his good will and happy humour that he had forgiven
Lady Catherine – who had had to cease her abusiveness on the subject of Mrs Darcy in order to be allowed to Pemberley once more – and this same feeling of good will lay behind his decision to keep the news of Master Roper from Elizabeth.

Mrs Hurst and Mrs Gardiner were engaged in a discussion on the merits of some of the contemporary painters in England. ‘I cannot see why Mr Darcy delays in having your niece's portrait done! I can only wish Sir Joshua Reynolds were still alive and able to paint at Pemberley! What a fine picture he would have made of Lizzy!'

As Mrs Gardiner made no reply to this, Mrs Hurst continued: ‘I have heard the paints he used are most unreliable. Mrs Fisher tells me she has faded already!'

Again, Mrs Gardiner could think of no response to this. Both Elizabeth and Darcy had heard the exchange and they smiled at each other the length of the table. Elizabeth knew Darcy was keen for a portrait of her, but she had so far desisted, on grounds that she had better things to do than pose in order to gratify her own vanity.

‘Dear Jane, as you may know, Mrs Gardiner, has agreed to a portrait. My brother Charles Bingley is quite delighted! Jane will wear a white dress with green ornaments, she tells me.'

‘I know green to be Jane's favourite colour,' Mrs Gardiner responded with warmth.

‘She will wait until after the birth of their second child,' said Mrs Hurst. ‘She will be painted with the children, I have no doubt; and Mr Bingley too, if he wishes it.'

‘It will be a fine picture,' said Mrs Gardiner.

‘Oh yes,' cried Mrs Hurst, for the table was quiet now, Mr Gardiner and Mr Hurst having exhausted the topic of the merits of blackcock versus tufted grouse. ‘It is always so much better for the lady of a house to pose with her children around her – and the house in the background, that cannot be bettered as a composition,
for it says in so many words that the continuity of the line is assured and the estate will remain within the family!'

Mr Darcy rose at this, scowling dreadfully. Too late, Elizabeth rose also, so the ladies could leave the dining-room to the gentlemen; and, as she rose, she felt the pitying eyes of Mrs Hurst on her. From a family such as the Bennets, where five daughters and Mrs Bennet had seldom, if ever, left the dining-room to Mr Bennet alone – for he preferred the library and would often go in there to escape the prattling of his younger daughters at table – it was particularly hard for Elizabeth to gauge the exact moment of needful departure for the ladies. Several times at Pemberley she had felt the eyes of Mr Darcy on her, and had wondered at the intensity of his scrutiny, only to realise with shame that the hour was late and there were wives and daughters still at table who should long ago have left the men to their port.

Once away from the dining-room, Elizabeth led her aunt and Mrs Hurst with as much composure as she could muster to her boudoir. Tea was brought in; and Mrs Hurst declared herself very well satisfied with her visit to Mr Darcy's Yorkshire estates.

‘He was here as a young boy a good deal,' said Mrs Hurst, ‘so my brother tells me. It may explain the love he has for the
picturesque
' – and here she darted another glance at Elizabeth. ‘A perfect place for a child, do not you agree, Mrs Gardiner, and such a pity the place is so little used!'

The hour wound on, but tonight the gentlemen did not come away from their port, and Mrs Gardiner, declaring herself fatigued by the fresh air of the moors, said she was going up to bed. Mrs Hurst wished to do likewise; and aunt and niece assisted her up the stairs. Announcing that she would see the doctor tomorrow when he came, but there had really been no need to send for him, for she was famous for mending, even on the hunting field, so very much faster after a fall than anyone else, Mrs Hurst went into her room and closed the door.

Mrs Gardiner, with the warmest expressions of love and gratitude for the delightful visit that she and uncle Gardiner were enjoying, kissed Elizabeth and went to her room.

Elizabeth lay a long time awake in bed, before her eyes closed and she entered a fitful sleep. Several times she awoke – but Mr Darcy did not come.

Mrs Bennet's concerns, on the last day of preparation before going north to Derbyshire, were with the contents of a letter she had received from a distant cousin on her father's side, Colonel Kitchiner. As neither Kitty, who was much taken up with the future possibility of there being a regiment stationed at Rowsley or thereabouts, nor Mary, who complained already that she would not be able to find her way round the library at Pemberley, was in a fit state to hear Mrs Bennet's confidences on the matter, Mrs Long was summoned for the last time to Meryton Lodge and offered tea.

‘My dear Mrs Bennet,' said Mrs Long, ‘how can you find time to entertain visitors when all your thoughts must be with your daughter, and her condition? With Jane, I mean' – for Mrs Bennet shifted in her chair and made to tuck away a letter at this. ‘There must be news of a very significant nature,' Mrs Long permitted herself, ‘and I can only hope that your journey north will not be adversely affected.'

‘Not at all!' cried Mrs Bennet, opening out the letter and folding it again. ‘Unexpected certainly – but, I have to say, not entirely untimely. It is from my cousin, Colonel Kitchiner.'

Mrs Long allowed that she had never heard tell of Colonel Kitchiner.

‘That is very probable. He has been away at war and is now retired at Uplyme. A most entrancing spot, as I know well. For I went there – with poor Mr Bennet – on the occasion of Lydia's going to Weymouth, if you remember.'

‘A most unfortunate occasion,' said Mrs Long. ‘It is to be
hoped there are no soldiers to be found in Derbyshire – for Kitty has every appearance of going the same way as her sister.'

‘Lydia is married,' said Mrs Bennet simply, but not without reflecting that her friend's candour had greatly increased since the death of Mr Bennet. ‘And I may say that I have intentions of a similar nature. Can there be anything ill-considered in marrying a soldier?'

Mrs Long was as startled as her friend had intended her to be. ‘Mrs Bennet, do you mean this? I pray you, recollect yourself.'

At this moment the maid came in and the tea was removed. Mrs Bennet offered a cordial, which was accepted, and the maid withdrew.

‘Colonel Kitchiner writes that he hopes to renew my acquaintance when he visits his sister – a cousin of mine as she must be – who lives in Manchester. He goes north in a few days' time and spends Christmas with her there.'

‘Indeed,' cried Mrs Long, ‘but I fail to see that you must feel yourself obliged to enter the matrimonial state because of this. Mr Bennet has been dead no more than nine months.'

‘Mr Bennet would approve greatly,' Mrs Bennet replied with a stiffness of manner which was not conducive to Mrs Long's continuing this train of thought. ‘You will recall that Longbourn was entailed into the male line.'

‘Certainly,' said Mrs Long, ‘it would be unusual in the extreme were anyone in the neighbourhood to fail to recall this. But your son-in-law, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, has settled you here most comfortably at Meryton Lodge.'

‘For my lifetime only,' said Mrs Bennet, this time in a low tone.

‘But for how much longer after that would you require it?' cried Mrs Long, who went on to profess herself baffled by Mrs Bennet today.

‘My father, who was an attorney in Meryton, as you well know, my dear Mrs Long, was unable to leave me more than four thousand pounds. His partner, the father of Colonel Kitchiner,
was enabled to do likewise for his son. Colonel Kitchiner's idea and I may say it is not entirely unappealing – is for a joining of these fortunes; and he has even had the foresight to suggest that my unmarried daughters, his ‘young cousins', as he delightfully terms it, should come into the sum of eight thousand pounds at his demise – as well as his house in Uplyme. For' – and here Mrs Bennet wiped a tear from her eye – ‘for at my death they will scarcely be able to count on Meryton Lodge.'