Elizabeth coloured anew. “You are right. I had never meant to speak of it. I did not suppose I should ever meet Mr Darcy again.”
So he had been right!thought Mrs Gardiner with renewed admiration for her husband’s discernment.
“I might have been mistress here...in Pemberley,” Elizabeth murmured, her voice faltering with a feeling she strove in vain to conceal from her aunt.
“What is this you say, Elizabeth Bennet?” cried Mrs Gardiner, her tone so sharpened by astonishment that several birds took flight from the neighbouring trees. Surveying the serenity and grandeur that surrounded them, Mrs Gardiner could scarcely believe that any young woman should have declined such an offer.
“Did the gentleman—did Mr Darcy—proposed to you?”
Elizabeth gave a silent nod, unable for some moments to speak. Her aunt was plainly astound. How could such an event have passed without the knowledge of the family? Elizabeth was not one to dissemble. Though not given to idle chatter like Lydia, she was equally far from being reserved.
“You must tell me, my dear. It is not well to carry such a weight alone. Your confidence will be safe with me, and perhaps, in sharing it, you may find some clearness or comfort.”
Elizabeth had always trusted her aunt as a confidante, and with good cause. Mrs Gardiner did not judge hastily, but listened and advised with thoughtful affection. Yet this matter—that mortifying proposal at the Hunsford Parsonage and her horrible retort—was something Elizabeth had long wished to forget. It was the moment she despised most in her life; at first, she had hated Mr Darcy, but afterwards her own conduct had tormented her once she read his letter.
She had thought of revealing the incident to Jane. However, she had resolved instead to conceal it—not because she wanted to forget Mr Darcy, but because she could not bear to recall the humiliating particulars of that scene. It took only half a day of travelling from Kent to London for her to understand that she despised theproposal,not the man.
Strange as it appeared, the very gentleman who had once insulted her family and occasioned Jane’s unhappiness was the man she had come to love. When the first edge of her resentment wore away, she understood with painful clearness that she had overthrown her own happiness—and that she was unlikely ever to see him again.
Jane’s attempts to meet Mr Bingley in London had failed, despite the presence of his sisters in town. What hope then for Elizabeth, whose life was confined to Longbourn and Gracechurch Street? Mr Darcy belonged to another world—one of titles, wealth, and extensive estates. The Gardiners’ society, by contrast, was composed of merchants and traders.
During the journey from Hunsford to London, Elizabeth had mourned in silence. She did not lament the loss of fortune—her thoughts never dwelt upon what she might have enjoyed as Mrs Darcy—but she grieved for the man himself. Only when she stood before Pemberley did she fully feel what she had refused.
Two days earlier, during a tour of the house under the direction of its housekeeper, she had allowed herself a fanciful moment: she had pictured herself its mistress, moving through the rooms she now saw as a visitor. From the gallery, she had looked down upon the parlour below, and in her fancy had seen her husband awaiting her there.
And then, quite suddenly, he had been truly there. At first, she could scarcely believe it. The shock was such that she nearly lost her senses. She had never before been obliged to steady herself by grasping a piece of furniture. Ashamed and shaken, her first impulse was to leave at once. But Mr Darcy had not appeared displeased. Far from it—he had smiled and spoken with a civility that astonished her and the Gardiners alike.
They departed quickly, and Elizabeth had believed the meeting to be the end of it. Perhaps, she thought, he showed such politeness to all his guests. But when he called at theirlodgings in Lambton the following morning, the gloom in her heart gave way to a frail hope.
“In Kent,” Elizabeth continued, with some agitation, “Colonel Fitzwilliam told me that Mr Darcy had persuaded Mr Bingley not to return to Netherfield. He, with Mr Bingley’s sisters, had been the cause of Jane’s sorrow. I was angry and meant to reproach him. Yet when we met, he prevented me. He made me an offer before I had even the chance to express my displeasure—and I answered him most horribly.”
“Hush now,” said Mrs Gardiner, glancing towards the gentlemen who were approaching along the riverbank. “Forget it. Forget Kent, and forgive him. And if your heart retains at leastaffection,then you must show it. With dignity, with composure…but show it. I am persuaded he hopes as much. Trust me, my dearest.”
It was all she could say before the happy anglers approached and overwhelmed the ladies with fishing stories and laughter.
Mr Bingley sought once more to speak with Elizabeth. Still, Mrs Gardiner, ever observant, prevented him with gentle firmness, and the poor gentleman could do nothing but accept her company. Mr Gardiner resumed a discourse with Sir Rupert on the subject of trade in the county, and Elizabeth, somewhat to her own surprise, found herself walking beside Mr Darcy.
Her heart beat quickly, though she strove to conceal her agitation. She could only hope that he would not perceive the depth of her feelings.Affection?she thought, her expression softening.It is love. Entire, irrevocable love.
They walked in silence for several minutes, a silence that grew increasingly oppressive as her aunt’s words returned to her:Show him your regard.
“I thank you, Mr Darcy,” she said at last, “for the pleasure you have afforded my uncle. He is devoted to fishing, and in London, he has little chance for such diversions.”
Ordinarily, she enjoyed hiding behind her parasol. Yet at that moment, she regretted that it hid his face from her view.
“You cannot conceive how much he has enjoyed himself. He has already made friends amongst our neighbours. Before long, I dare say you shall see Gardiner watermills placed about the landscape of Derbyshire.”
“There was a larger party, then?” she asked, encouraged.
“Yes, indeed.” After a pause, he added, almost too quickly, “We fished in a pond about a mile distant. We can go in the morning if you want to see it.”
“I should like that from all my heart, I adore the water in all forms,” she answered, and the gentleman beside her smiled, charmed by her sincerity. Elizabeth Bennet always spoke from her heart, even when her heart was full of anger. But Kent was far removed from their peaceful walk upon the lawns of Pemberley.
“That must mean that you are fond of the sea,” he said, secretly pleased; for indeed, to him also, the sea was a place of peculiar delight.
“I have seldom seen it, yet never have I stood upon the shore where the waves break. How greatly should I have liked to feel them strike me lightly—”
“Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy laughed, “that small spirit of adventure might have cost you more than a pair of wet shoes. Oftentimes the sea appears calm and the waves gentle, when suddenly an unexpected gust shatters them with force, and—”
