Pemberley (8 page)

‘It is certainly generous of Colonel Kitchiner,' said Mrs Long after a pause for reflection in which she wished the ailing and selfish Mr Long dead and buried and herself taking the air at Uplyme. ‘So you have accepted – or, my dear Mrs Bennet, will you do so soon?'

‘On no account will I accept,' said Mrs Bennet, to the further surprise of Mrs Long.

‘But Mrs Bennet, why not? You will earn the everlasting gratitude of your daughters – for I accede that it may well be almost impossible for them to find husbands. With so small a fortune to look forward to,' Mrs Long added, just in time to escape the eye of Mrs Bennet. ‘What can possible hold you back from this agreeable and sensible proposition?'

‘Perhaps,' said Mrs Bennet, ‘there is a reason, Mrs Long, why I draw back from the suggestion.'

Mrs Long looked at her friend with incredulous solicitude, but said nothing.

‘I am the mother of Mrs Darcy, of Pemberley,' said Mrs Bennet, colouring.

‘You are,' said Mrs Long, ‘and of Jane Bingley and three other girls, as we know.'

‘I cannot commit myself to a marriage without the approbation of my daughter and son-in-law. It would be most awkward. I am astonished that you do not see this, Mrs Long.'

‘But – it was you, Mrs Bennet, who announced that your mind was made up.'

‘Not at all. I asked whether you thought it ill considered to marry a soldier.'

‘But this is a colonel!' cried Mrs Long. ‘And the war is over, Mrs Bennet. I believe you must be most fatigued, in your preparations for your journey to Pemberley.'

‘Ah, my nerves, Mrs Long, have been so terribly affected since the death of Mr Bennet! And I cannot know how my Lizzy, who was quite her father's favourite, as you may recall, would ever take to my remarrying.'

‘Elizabeth would wish you well, I am sure. And she will be aware that her younger sisters will be well cared for. You worry too much, Mrs Bennet – and Elizabeth has other matters on her mind, I have no doubt, besides your matrimonial affairs.'

‘And what might they be?' enquired Mrs Bennet.

‘She is in a different time of life to yours,' was all Mrs Long would give in reply.

Mrs Bennet proceeded to complain of Mrs Long's heartlessness at approving a marriage when thirty years had passed since she had set eyes on the groom. She repeated several times that she must wait for the approval of her daughter Lizzy before committing herself to the match, when the door opened and Mr Collins was shown in.

‘Mr Collins!' said Mrs Bennet, with as much composure as she could muster.

Mr Collins bowed and presented his apologies for calling on the eve of the departure of Mrs Bennet and her daughters for Pemberley. It was seen by Mrs Long and Mrs Bennet that he clasped a small box, made of inlaid wood, in his hand.

‘It is merely a token, a Christmas wish,' said Mr Collins, bowing again and holding out the box. ‘It will not impress by its presumption, but may bring a happy memory of summer days.'

Mrs Bennet took the box and opened it. A collection of dusty rose petals and the remains of other flowers gave off a faint haze.

‘I have a cold in the nose, or I am sure I could detect the fragrance,' cried Mrs Long.

‘From the garden at Longbourn,' said Mr Collins with evident pride. ‘My dear Charlotte and I gathered them when the sun was high, on St John's Eve. Indeed, it is said of young women on midsummer eve that they have only to look in the mirror and they will see the face of their future husband. Charlotte of course had already done me the honour of becoming my wife – '

Here Kitty came in, the maid and Mary just behind her. ‘Mama, you must tell Mary there is no room in the coach for such a quantity of books. How can I put in the ball dresses I must take in the event of a ball? Where shall we sit, if the dresses are not to be crushed?'

‘A ball at Pemberley?' cried Mr Collins. ‘Indeed, there will be a ball at Pemberley. Every year on New Year's Eve. I cannot give my word, my dear Kitty, that you will find a husband as maids are wont to do at midsummer' – and here Mr Collins attempted a twinkle in the eye that sent Mary bolting from the room – ‘but I can assure you that all the young men of family in the district will be invited. Lady Catherine de Bourgh will see to that!'

‘My daughter Mrs Darcy will arrange the ball this year,' said Mrs Bennet, ‘And now – as we have so short a time until we leave …'

Mr Collins took the box from Mrs Benner's hand and made as if to pronounce a sacrament over it, ‘You will be kind enough to give this to Mrs Darcy, with my kindest regards,' said Mr Collins.

‘The box is for Lizzy?' said Mrs Long.

Mr Collins bowed once more. ‘My dear cousin Elizabeth will find tender memories of childhood return to her. To think' – Mr Collins turned to embrace Mrs Bennet, Mrs Long and Kitty by opening his arms wide – ‘to think how mistaken my dear Charlotte and I proved to be, when Elizabeth came as our guest to Hunsford parsonage.'

‘Mistaken?' said Mrs Bennet, drawing herself up. ‘How so?'

‘We were certain that Colonel Fitzwilliam, Lady Catherine's cousin, then a guest at Rosings, would propose marriage to Elizabeth. We found Colonel Fitzwilliam the pleasantest man.'

The maid came in and said the coach was at the door.

‘Heavens!' cried Mrs Bennet. ‘I am hardly ready at all!'

‘Mr Darcy has considerable patronage in the church,' said Mrs Long. ‘You must be glad the colonel came to nothing.'

Mrs Bennet, who showed her guests the door, kept them in the hall long enough to make strong objection to Mrs Long's remark. ‘And what is wrong with a colonel, I would like to know? There is a colonel in my own family and I hope he is good enough for my daughter Mrs Darcy.'

‘And how should that arise?' said Mrs Long as Mr Collins stood still without opening his lips.

‘Colonel Kitchiner will call on us at Pemberley, when he leaves Manchester after visiting his sister,' said Mrs Bennet on a note of triumph, for she could no longer conceal her excitement from anyone. ‘And I expect Mr and Mrs Darcy to receive him most genially.'

‘Colonel Kitchiner?' said Mr Collins, who now wore a frown across his forehead. ‘I think I have heard the name before.'

‘Very likely,' said Mrs Bennet. ‘He is received everywhere.'

Mr Collins continued to frown; and to say several times that he had heard the name before, and he thought Colonel Kitchiner had been to Rosings.

‘There you are!' said Mrs Bennet. ‘Lady Catherine, who will naturally recognise the colonel when he comes to Pemberley, will have many topics to discuss with him.'

But Mr Collins continued to frown, and to mutter; and only the imminent departure of the Bennet family, and his own necessity of pointing out that the little inlaid box must perforce contain so many fewer blooms than would have been gathered in the garden at Rosings, led to the dispersal of the company.

‘Lady Catherine will understand there is not the space for a wide variety of roses at Longbourn' were the last words of Mr Collins.

Elizabeth's spirits were much restored on her return to Pemberley from Yorkshire by Mr Darcy's admission that his ill humour at the lodge could be ascribed to the manners of Mrs Hurst, and to a burning desire to be alone with his wife, uninterrupted by the presence of others, however pleasant aunt and uncle Gardiner might be.

She had cause to remember, too, her first impressions of the man she had married; that he had a very satirical eye, and if she did not begin by being impertinent herself she should soon grow afraid of him; and she had to confess to herself that the importance and duties attached to Mr Darcy, combined with what he termed his ‘resentfulness' – that he would not change his opinion once he had taken a decision to censure someone – had quenched her own natural impertinence a good deal. Was she not her father's daughter, the daughter of Mr Bennet, whose vision of the world was that neighbours were there to be made sport of; and what was oneself other than an object of their sport? Elizabeth feared she had been too much in thrall to her husband since their marriage – and, whilst she had no desire to mock the master of Pemberley, a man she loved distractedly, she considered it now timely to give vent to her feelings on the subject of Mrs Hurst. This was made all the easier by Mr Darcy's opening up after dinner, as Georgiana sketched by the fire and Elizabeth sat at her embroidery.

‘I cannot imagine how Mrs Hurst can entertain herself so well, with so little in her head,' said Darcy – and Elizabeth could feel that he smiled at her as he spoke and that he wished to please her – for Darcy was not known to discuss the character, foibles or
otherwise, of anyone connected with so dear a friend as Charles Bingley.

‘She has Mr Hurst's snores to contend with,' said Elizabeth lightly, ‘which must be like living in a perpetual thunderstorm. No wonder she mistakes spite for wit – both come at the speed of lightning and the rumbling in the background confuses her.'

‘She will not be here for our Christmas party at least,' said Darcy.

‘Then you shall not find yourself resentful throughout the festivities,' said Elizabeth in the same light tone. ‘You will be as happy to see Charles Bingley as I shall be happy to be with Jane; and that will make up the entire party from Barlow.'

Georgiana, on hearing this, laid down her sketchpad and came over to the sofa where Elizabeth plied her needle, and put her arms around her neck.

‘Oh, Lizzy, can you forgive me?' And, rising, she ran over to Darcy's high-backed chair and perched on a stool at his feet. ‘As I walked along the road to the village today – '

‘Yes, Georgiana,' said Darcy, whose difference of more than ten years in age seemed all the more pronounced for Georgiana's sudden affectation of childishness. ‘What have you done now? You have brought a new little kitten into the house and daren't tell Eliza of it, is that it?'

‘Oh no, Darcy. I saw Miss Bingley walking down the road.'

‘Miss Bingley?' It was Elizabeth's turn to make the interrogation.

‘Her phaeton had a wheel loose and was at the black-smith's.'

‘But what is Miss Bingley doing here at all?' Elizabeth said; and then saw Darcy's brow darken, for she had not spoken kindly.

‘Why, she stays with Charles and Jane,' cried Georgiana. ‘She came to Pemberley to revisit the scene of her happiest days – so she informed me. You said, Elizabeth, that she was likely to come north for the season.'

‘It was mentioned, yes,' Elizabeth allowed.

‘So what harm is there in all this?' asked Darcy; and he gently indicated to his sister that she return to her seat by the fire. ‘Are we all to tremble because Caroline Bingley visits her brother and takes a ride in the phaeton in the direction of Pemberley?'

‘No, Darcy – I knew you would think nothing of it. I invited Miss Bingley – dear Caroline – to stay over Christmas. That is all I have to tell you, and' – this said defiantly in the silence which ensued – ‘at least Miss Bingley is not like her sister, Mrs Hurst.'

‘No, much worse,' said Elizabeth; ‘and I do think, Georgiana, that you could apply to me before you issue invitations for Christmas.' She rose, cheeks burning, and said something to the effect that it was time to go to bed.

‘No, no, my sweet Eliza!' cried Darcy, who appeared determined to recapture the good humour of the earlier part of the evening. ‘We shall certainly not end on this note!' And he rose also, to clasp Elizabeth by the hand and draw her to his side. ‘We shall play a new game to tide us over the coming season,' said he. ‘Georgiana, do you have your card and colours?'

‘What am I to do with them?' demanded his sister, still refusing to look at Elizabeth.

‘We'll have a game of Pemberley,' said Elizabeth laughing, for she had divined Mr Darcy's intentions. ‘You may start with a fine card of my mother, Mrs Bennet.'

‘And do not neglect an excellent likeness of my aunt, Lady Catherine,' put in Mr Darcy.

‘And Miss de Bourgh and Miss Kitty Bennet together …'

But, as Darcy and Elizabeth laughed and stood close in the long gallery, they found themselves, when next they turned towards the fire, alone together. Georgiana, scattering her pad and colours, had fled to her room.

‘She was not invited, even, to make a likeness of Wickham,' said Darcy gravely – and, for all the touch of cruelty that might be found in the remark, Elizabeth could not keep herself from showing her appreciation of it with a smile and an embrace. For was
not Wickham – banished from Pemberley and from the patronage of Mr Darcy so many years ago, only to attempt to seduce Miss Georgiana Darcy for her thirty thousand pounds – was not Wickham, who continued his scandalous career by eloping with Elizabeth's own sister Lydia, one of the chief components of Elizabeth's dread of the coming Christmas party? He would be at Rowsley, after all, with his wife and family – and many a night had Elizabeth lain awake and thought of the unpleasantness for poor Georgiana in all this.

‘And now we will need a playing card of Miss Bingley too,' said Elizabeth softly, as they mounted the stairs and a footman came after them to extinguish the lights.

But Mr Darcy said there was no need to design a card of Miss Bingley, for he had no desire to play with her at all.

The next day was the last before the arrival of the guests at Pemberley. Elizabeth found herself increasingly grateful for the spirit of love and complicity that reigned between herself and Darcy; indeed, she owned that she had feared she would not be able to manage the occasion without the support and understanding given so freely by him, and that Christmas had seemed to her, in Yorkshire, too great a mountain to scale. Because she was accustomed to the company of Georgiana, Elizabeth confided her thoughts to her, as they walked through the park; and perhaps, distracted as she was, it took longer than it would naturally have done for her to note the silence of Miss Darcy on this and all other subjects. They stopped by a bower built by a stream, and sat down to rest, and still Elizabeth voiced her preoccupations concerning the coming season.