Mrs Gardiner sank heavily onto a stone bench which, by good fortune, stood in their path.
“And?” she murmured at last.
“And he has given me time to consider…what am I to do?”
But Mrs Gardiner did not venture to offer any advice, and Elizabeth understood that the matter was far too serious.
“Perhaps in the autumn I shall accept,” she said simply, and held out her hand to help her aunt rise.
As they ascended the staircase at Netherfield, Mrs Gardiner whispered to Elizabeth, “All will be well!”
But no sooner had they entered the drawing-room than they discovered that the subject of conversation was still Mr Darcy; and as they had not been present before, Mr Bingley, in his usual cheerful manner, began the story anew for their benefit.
“Darcy has gone to Pemberley with Miss Darcy, and although they usually remain there until the end of August, it seems that this year they intend to return to town sooner—about the middle of the month. In this way, I am easy, for he will certainly be present at our wedding.” He cast a hasty glance at Jane, whom he had lost from sight for nearly fifteen seconds.
“And I was just telling them,” said Miss Bingley, “that I am certain Mr Darcy returns to town earlier to prepare for his marriage. I rejoiced exceedingly when I heard of the engagement. Lady Elizabeth is, indeed, a young woman worthy to be the mistress of Pemberley.”
She looked pointedly at Elizabeth as she spoke. She was, in truth, somewhat vexed that Mr Darcy was to be married; for at times she had indulged the hope that he might have felt someinterest in herself. Yet the fact that he had cared neither for Miss Elizabeth nor for her was a satisfaction which she celebrated in her own fashion—by uttering insinuations she hoped everyone would comprehend.
But no one did understand them, nor was anyone much interested in Mr Darcy’s marriage that evening; for Elizabeth was, as usual, the centre of attention. Surrounded by admiration and curiosity, she spoke with delight of the Academy and her work there, praised Mary, and described how her timid sister had changed into an active young woman who, quite unexpectedly, could now resolve disputes among the pupils and even advise the teachers upon the subjects they ought to teach.
Elizabeth seated herself beside Kitty and promised, in the hearing of all, that from the autumn her sister too should come to London to the Academy.
“We already have a class formed of young ladies of seventeen and eighteen,” she said.
Kitty’s face shone with joy, but Elizabeth added playfully, “You cannot slip out of our classrooms as easily as from Father’s library.” The company laughed, yet Kitty perfectly understood the meaning and whispered, “Believe me, I shall not disgrace you.”
And Elizabeth believed her, for she had Mary’s eyes and Jane’s smile, while the manner in which she had once mimicked Lydia was now entirely gone.
Chapter 25
Their reunited family had always been cheerful. Whenever all were gathered at dinner, generally at Longbourn, the table was scarcely large enough to contain them. They often jested that, excepting Mrs and Mr Bennet, who sat comfortably at the ends, the rest were obliged to squeeze together; and every time, Mrs Bennet promised to procure a table larger than the one made for twelve. Yet this did not prevent them from enjoying the excellent dishes she served, recounting with humour all that had lately occurred in their lives, and considering those narrow conditions a privilege—for they were all together.
The table that awaited them in the dining-room, however, was of a different kind altogether. When they assembled in the elegant apartment of Hampstead Hall, a solemn silence fell upon the company. Each had been present at stylish dinners before, but never all together; and on that evening, Mrs Robertson and Mary had spared no effort to impress. The table sparkled with the gleam of crystal glasses, while the plates, borderedwith broad lines of gold, lent an air of refinement that was nevertheless enlivened by small bouquets of flowers scattered between the dishes of hors d’œuvres already set out.
“Impressive!” said Mr Bennet, turning to Elizabeth, who had led him there. Yet it was not the beauty of the room nor the elegance of the table that moved him, but the thought that they were all present in that beautiful environment through Elizabeth’s efforts. With tenderness, he kissed her hand and guided her to the head of the table, where her place was prepared.
But the silence did not last; for they were the Bennets and the Gardiners united, and they knew well how to celebrate such an event. Mr Clinton soon appeared and seated himself, without ceremony, beside Mr Bennet. At this, Elizabeth made a sign to Mary to take the seat at the other end. Their movements were closely observed by Mr Clinton, though he continued to converse with Mr Bennet. The two young ladies complemented each other perfectly. From their cooperation, he already felt that the Academy would become something far greater than it had ever been.
“I am most obliged to you for having raised such accomplished young ladies,” he whispered to Mr Bennet, whose heart swelled with pride.
“And I am obliged to you,” replied Mr Bennet, “for having discovered them and brought them into this admirable place. I confess that, from the first moment I entered this house, I felt at home. The very air has a pleasant vibration.”
The most at ease at the table was Mr Bingley. He perceived nothing remarkable, partly because he was long accustomed to the splendour of the houses he frequented with Mr Darcy, but chiefly because he could not remove his eyes from his fiancée; all around her was but a trifling ornament to her presence.
“We shall begin, during the summer,” said Mr Clinton, “to invite the families of the young ladies who are already at the Academy, or who wish to enrol, to visit us. I desire the Academy to become a living community, and I am certain that, together with the Miss Bennets, we shall accomplish it.”
The days flew by in cheerful succession; for besides their conversations and walks, a morning of fishing or an excursion to the neighbouring towns filled their time most agreeably. Jane and Kitty, accompanied by Mr Bingley and sometimes by Mr Clinton, rode out each morning. Afterwards, they organised picnics and outdoor teas, and almost every day there was archery upon the principal lawn behind the house, upon a ground laid out expressly for such recreations.
Nor were the lawn games forgotten—battledore and shuttlecock proved exceedingly diverting for ladies and gentlemen alike. And if, during the first few days, they had all hesitated to engage in such activities, within a week, except Mr Bennet and Mr Clinton, everyone had already found a favourite pastime among those prepared. Even Mrs Bennet was sometimes seen in the morning drawing the bow, confessing that in her youth it had been her favourite sport.
But when Mr Clinton announced that he must take his leave, Mr Bennet seized the occasion to make the same declaration. Mrs Bennet was at first displeased; yet soon perceiving that, at home, they would be only the two of them, she consented to depart and spend a few quiet days at Longbourn—a circumstance she could not recollect having often occurred before.
The days became even more lively when, as Mr Clinton had intended, on several mornings the families of the young ladies arrived to partake in the amusements, most of them expressing a wish to return after such a delightful time spent in such good company.
The wedding of Jane was drawing near, though it had been postponed for a fortnight, as the church at Longbourn—where she insisted upon having the ceremony—required certain repairs, which Mr Bingley undertook himself, wishing that his bride should have a perfect wedding-day, and that the little church might be worthy of her beauty.
In that atmosphere of joyfulness, which anticipated Jane’s happiness, they all felt that nothing could disturb their peace. But they were mistaken.
