The agitation of his mind began gradually to subside. Anne was a gentle presence—amiable, considerate, and discreet. She read much, and when she spoke with Mrs Jenkinson, they often did so in low tones to avoid disturbing him.
They reached Pemberley on a day of steady rain. He regretted that his bride could not first see it under the sun, when its beauty was at its height; but she would have ample time to discover its charms. Pemberley was admirable in every seasonand in every light. He loved it equally in sunshine, in snow, and in rain.
He thought of his parents and wondered whether their marriage had been founded upon passion or upon that deep and steady friendship which had been so evident to all who knew them.
Because of the rain, the servants assembled to receive them in the great hall. He felt a profound sense of satisfaction upon returning home. As he looked around, he observed every familiar detail and then presented the household to their new mistress. Once again, he was pleased with her manner. She greeted each of them with a gentle smile and a few kind words. Mrs Reynolds, the housekeeper, introduced the three maids, who appeared even more timid than their mistress.
And at last he found himself alone in his library. He could close his eyes, stretch himself upon the sofa, and reflect upon all that had passed during that remarkable summer.
Chapter 16
Charles and Jane attended the wedding with the greatest pleasure. Hand in hand, they recalled with animation the moment, three months earlier, when they had stood before the clergyman, answering the solemn questions of the marriage service.
“I hope they will be as happy as we are,” Jane said to Elizabeth a few days later, as they sat alone in the parlour at Netherfield, enjoying a quiet afternoon after Jane’s return from London.
She was eager to relate every particular; but, to her astonishment, Elizabeth suddenly burst into tears. It was something Jane had never witnessed before. Fortunately, Bingley was absent, having gone to St Albans to escort some friends back to Netherfield.
Jane could not understand what had occasioned such distress. She looked at her sister with wide eyes, for in former times Elizabeth had always been the one to comfort and support her.
“What has happened, my dear?” she said at last, more alarmed than curious.
Elizabeth struggled to compose herself, and in a voice faint and unsteady—so unlike her usual manner—she told Jane the whole history.
“Mr Darcy asked me to marry him this spring, at Hunsford.”
Jane gasped and pressed her hand to her bosom; she seemed on the point of fainting. Fortunately, she was seated. Then she exclaimed, with sudden warmth, “Marry? Mr Darcy proposed to you—and you refused him?”
The answer needed no explanation: Elizabeth was seated at Netherfield Park, while Mr Darcy was on his wedding journey with Anne de Bourgh.
Yet, as she looked at her sister, Jane made an effort to restrain her feelings. Elizabeth was unhappy and required only kindness and tenderness.
“My dear Lizzy, I am so very sorry! Tell me everything; perhaps speaking may relieve you.” But even as she said it, she knew it was not true; she remembered too well that nothing had relieved her own sorrow after Bingley’s departure the previous autumn.
Elizabeth still hesitated to reveal all, but at last she yielded. Jane was now happily married, and nothing could injure her happiness—not even…Darcy.
Had she been able, she might almost have smiled; even in such a moment, she remained careful of Darcy’s character.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, in the course of an unguarded conversation, told me that Mr Darcy had advised a friend not to pursue an attachment with a certain lady.”
Jane nodded quietly. “Yes, I know. When Charles proposed, he told me everything; we agreed that there should be no secrets between us.”
Elizabeth looked at her in astonishment.
“Charles was not even angry. He believed it had been his duty to examine his own feelings. And I entirely agree with him. He reflected, and when he was certain that he loved me, he returned.”
Elizabeth regarded her as though she had never truly known her before.
“He might never have come back,” Elizabeth said at last.
“Yes—if he had not loved me enough, or had not been prepared to act as a man and as a husband.”
It was as simple as that. No great upheaval, no violent struggle—only a gentle and reasonable man, willing to acknowledge his own uncertainty.
And Elizabeth’s pain became almost intolerable.
“I refused Mr Darcy’s proposal because I was angry—angry that he had interfered with your happiness.”
“No!” Jane cried. “Why would you do such a thing?”
