“But you yourself have turned it,” observed Mr Darcy, now somewhat more at ease.
“Yes, for generally the manner in which a woman is regarded within her family is identical to that in which she is regarded by society. Beyond wife and mother, society desires nothing from her.”
“It is a justified reproach,” Mr Clinton conceded with elegance. “I am certain the future will bring change once men such as we shall wish women to hold a greater place in society. We return then to education, and how essential it is to the progress of mankind.”
“To answer you nevertheless,” Elizabeth concluded, “I should wish that we might have the possibility of holding occupations, of maintaining ourselves without the dowry of a father or the fortune of a husband. To me, that would be true progress.”
∞∞∞
Long after she had finished her nightly preparations, Elizabeth could not fall asleep. It had been an engaging evening, and the conversation at the whist table most instructive. She took pleasure in observing that there existed men, like her father, who would gladly have women independent and free. Yet she strongly wondered whether their discussion had indeed concerned the role of women in family and society, or whether Mr Clinton had merely sought to learn how a young lady such as herself might think of marriage. She recalled, with great distinctness, the look he had given her as soon as the whist game had ended. It was, beyond doubt, an interest he did not hesitate to reveal. Elizabeth fell asleep endeavouring to imagine her life otherwise than she had ever dreamed it with Jane—not built around a great and single love.
Chapter 6
Morning came bright with a dazzling sun, most unexpected for the end of March, yet bringing general delight at the Parsonage. Even Mr Collins proposed a short excursion through the neighbourhood of Hunsford; but presently a message arrived from Rosings, obliging him to depart, though leaving behind three cheerful ladies.
While they prepared for their walk, an unlooked-for visitor appeared and paused in the middle of the parlour with such an air of astonishment that he seemed the most perplexed of all as to the reason for his own coming.
“Pray be seated, Mr Darcy,” urged Charlotte, endeavouring to lessen the oddity of the scene; yet when all were seated, instead of any return to ease, the situation grew only more singular, for no one spoke a word.
“Where is Colonel Fitzwilliam?” murmured Elizabeth at last. Charlotte looked towards her with gratitude, being quite unequal to the occasion.
“He is gone out with some comrades upon a hunting party.”
“You do not hunt, then?”
“I do, but they return not this evening, and I chose to remain behind.”
Why? Elizabeth wished to ask, yet restrained herself; the conversation was already so dull that she preferred not to prolong it.
They next spoke of the weather, of the sun, and of the unusual dryness of that spring, for which no one could account. Then, quite abruptly, Mr Darcy rose, made a few apologies, and departed, leaving the ladies even more puzzled than they had been at his arrival.
“Why did he come?” exclaimed Elizabeth. Charlotte laid a hand upon her arm, for her tone was almost indignant.
“Yes, I know,” continued Elizabeth. “I am not to be angry with any visitor from Rosings, but this visit was entirely purposeless. It was indeed worse than Miss de Bourgh’s visits, which are usually performed within her carriage—”
“Elizabeth!” cried Charlotte, displeased. “I do not understand why you speak thus. Neither Miss de Bourgh nor Mr Darcy has ever given us the least disturbance.”
“It would have been difficult to disturb us when we remained silent almost the whole time.”
Maria looked in some alarm from one to the other, for she had never before seen them disagree in earnest or quarrel otherwise than with a smile. Yet now she felt something smouldering between them which she could not comprehend. She wished to leave, to walk, to visit the ladies of the parish. But even upon the road, the two continued to exchange sharp little remarks which ill accorded with Maria’s idea of their friendship.
“Let us endeavour to enjoy the sunshine,” she said timidly, placing herself between them as though to part a dangerous current of words.
To her relief, the tension subsided when, from the direction of Hunsford, Mr Clinton appeared on horseback. He dismounted and greeted them with evident pleasure.
This time, the conversation began of itself, and the awkward morning was soon forgotten, for Mr Clinton spoke of the Academy founded by his late wife, which bore her name—Margaret Clinton.
“We have twenty-five young ladies of three different ages,” he explained, “and we strive to provide instruction beyond what is usual in the common academies for girls—”
“Meaning cookery and embroidery,” interposed Elizabeth. Charlotte looked at her reproachfully, feeling that her friend still harboured a little resentment, though the cause had passed.
“Miss Bennet,” replied Mr Clinton with much gentleness, “changes are not made in a day, and young ladies such as yourself will have much to struggle against all the prejudices...yet be assured, the beginning is made, for there are those like you who desire something better.”
Elizabeth inclined her head, her tone now softened. “And who are the teachers or tutors of the young ladies?”
“We have six gentlewomen who superintend their instruction. Perhaps you will come and see us when you are next in London. I am persuaded you would value Mrs Clinton’s legacy.”
He regarded her with an air of intent observation, and again Elizabeth felt that he studied her; yet she was neither offended nor discomposed, for Mr Clinton was truly a gentleman. Suddenly, the notion of continuing what MrsClinton had begun seemed engaging, even though it might imply becoming that gentleman’s wife.
