“It is impossible for us to know her present situation, for we know little of her at all. She visited us a few times, and we spoke of many things, yet when my husband and I tried to recall any particular aspect of her history, we found we knew nothing. It is one of the circumstances which most alarms me—her ability to converse freely upon herself and her family, and yet to disclose nothing of consequence. When Richard learnt that he must quit London, he hoped we might invite her to Pemberley, but my husband refused to have her alone, without him.”
“But where was she lodged in London?” Mary persisted, despite Elizabeth’s frowns and silent entreaties to desist.
“I do not know,” replied the countess with a sigh. “Neither in London, nor elsewhere in England, do I know of her abode—except for that northern connection which is of no value. And now my husband is gone alone, and I fear for him likewise.”
“My lady, I do not believe his lordship to be in any real danger,” Mr Gardiner said, seeking to reassure her.
“What a wretched situation! All my life, I have valued the moments when I could be alone at home; now I find the solitude intolerable. I have reckoned the days—he cannot be returned in fewer than five—and Arthur and his wife will not be here before September. My only hope is Fitzwilliam. I thank you again for having informed him.”
Mr Gardiner bowed gravely.
“And I have no one to speak with—no means of discovering more—” She broke off, and looked earnestly atElizabeth. “I wonder whether it would be too much to ask you to be my guest for a few days—only until Fitzwilliam arrives?”
Elizabeth stared in astonishment. Her reluctance to answer sprang from uncertainty whether she had truly understood the proposal. Lady Matlock mistook her silence for a polite refusal and added hastily, “No, it is too much to ask; you are here with your family—”
Elizabeth could not speak; it was more than she had ever hoped for. To be under Lady Matlock’s roof when Mr Darcy—Fitzwilliam—arrived, would be a happiness she had never dared to imagine.
Once again, Mrs Gardiner intervened. “My lady, she will certainly stay. We consent most willingly, her parents being absent, to grant it.”
“Yes, indeed,” Mr Gardiner added in his composed and kindly manner.
“Thank you; it will be only until Mr Darcy comes. And if Miss Mary would like to accompany you, she shall be most welcome. I will send the carriage in the morning, if it is convenient.”
“It is, my lady,” Elizabeth at last replied; and Mary’s smile rendered any further enquiry unnecessary. She was enchanted with this new turn of life.
∞∞∞
“It is good news that we shall not be further engaged in this affair,” observed Mr Gardiner, as the carriage bore them home.
“I would not say we are wholly disengaged, if Lizzy and Mary are to reside at Matlock House.”
“You are right, my dear; yet Lizzy will remain only three or four days.”
Or for life, Mrs Gardiner thought, watching her niece, whose expression was one of such distant contentment as to recall Jane in her happiest moments.
Mrs Gardiner had often reflected on Mr Darcy’s hesitation to renew his addresses. She had observed him with Elizabeth upon several occasions, and could draw but one conclusion: he was in love. Whenever Elizabeth entered a room, his attention was fixed upon her alone. He showed her the sunset, or spoke low in her ear in the music-room, with all the gestures of a man attached; yet there was a want of resolution, a reluctance to declare himself again. To Mrs Gardiner’s mind, there could be but one cause—his family’s disapproval of a connection beneath them. The pride of rank was an unpleasant trait, yet she admitted it was human nature. She would never have married a man greatly beneath her family’s station. In her youth, she had resolved to secure a husband who could maintain her in the style to which she had been accustomed. As she looked with affection upon Mr Gardiner, she congratulated herself on her prudence.
Perhaps Mr Darcy’s motives were not significantly different: he would seek a wife who might be received in London, respected, and able to support the life he had always led. Was this a fault? Probably not, but it was a formidable obstacle to his marrying Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. Yet the present prospect—Elizabeth’s sojourn at Matlock House—might smooth his path to marriage. If Lady Matlock approved her, friends and acquaintances would, in all likelihood, follow without question.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth did not indulge in hopes as freely as her aunt; yet, deep in her heart, she cherished a fresh one. When she left Pemberley, she had resolved against the folly of expectation. Jane’s long-drawn suffering, which had not abated after many months of waiting for Mr Bingley, stood before her as a warning. Elizabeth would not follow that example. But her heart was not so obedient; it continued to frame another ending, and she had dreamed of Mr Darcy every day and night since.
On the morning of her departure, she looked with gratitude towards her aunt. If they were fashionably apparelled, it was owing chiefly to her and to her uncle’s generosity.
“Do not forget the gown from Pemberley,” Mrs Gardiner called from her dressing-room, making Elizabeth smile. It was the first to be packed. Then they prepared Mary, who was so animated by the proceedings that they could scarcely recall the morose girl who once hid from the family to read in solitude.
Mrs Gardiner then opened a box containing some delicate ornaments. “These were my father’s gift, and are suited to young ladies such as you.” Each received a bracelet and a necklace. They had been reserved for her own daughters; yet she understood that, once Elizabeth married Mr Darcy and moved in different circles, her daughters’ fortunes might also be advanced. She loved her nieces dearly and saw no shame in such thoughts. It was a mother’s duty to do what was best for her children. At present, the essential object was to present Lizzy and Mary as young ladies of fashion. Of their behaviour, she had no concern, for both possessed irreproachable manners, and Elizabeth, when she lifted her head, looked every inch a princess.
The carriage sent for them bore the Matlock arms upon its doors, and the Gardiners watched until their nieces were lost to view amidst the crowded streets of London.
Mr Gardiner kissed his wife’s hand. “Perhaps it is time we thought of removing from this neighbourhood.”
Chapter 13
“Are you…eagerto go to Matlock House?” Mary asked hesitantly, in a low voice.
Elizabeth, with composed tone, replied, “Do not whisper, Mary Bennet.” Then, taking her sister’s hand, she said, “Eagerness, yes, disquiet, no.”
