Pride and Prejudice

CHAPTER XLIV.

The morning after reaching Lambton, while walking with the Gardiners, a carriage drew them to the window. Elizabeth recognized the livery and told her astonished uncle and aunt of the expected honour. The Gardiners now suspected what had never before occurred: that Darcy’s attentions sprang from partiality for their niece. Elizabeth, flustered, dreaded Georgiana might say too much in her favour.

When Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, Elizabeth was relieved to find the young lady’s reputation for pride masked only extreme shyness. Miss Darcy was sixteen, and though less handsome than her brother, possessed sense, good humour, and unassuming gentleness. Her embarrassment matched Elizabeth’s.

Bingley entered, dissolving any remaining anger in his unaffected cordiality. Their observation of all three visitors, especially Darcy, convinced the Gardiners he overflowed with admiration. Elizabeth caught hope in small incidents, such as Bingley’s regretful remark that it was above eight months since they had danced at Netherfield. Whenever she glimpsed Darcy, she was struck by an expression of general complaisance utterly free of hauteur, even toward the relations he had once disdained; the change from Hunsford was so great she could hardly hide her astonishment.

When the visitors rose, Darcy called on his sister to invite the Gardiners and Miss Bennet to dine at Pemberley. Miss Darcy, unaccustomed to giving invitations, complied; Mrs. Gardiner accepted for two days hence.

That evening Elizabeth lay awake two hours examining her feelings. Hatred had vanished; she was almost ashamed of ever having felt dislike. The respect created by his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had become friendlier after the testimony she had heard. Above all was gratitude—not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive her rejection and for seeking on this accidental meeting to preserve the acquaintance. She respected, esteemed, and was grateful to him, and felt real interest in his welfare. The only question she could not answer was how far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself.

It was settled they should call on Miss Darcy the following morning, and Mr. Gardiner, his fishing renewed, set off early.

CHAPTER XLV.

Georgiana received them in the saloon with Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, and Mrs. Annesley. Georgiana’s reception was civil but painfully shy; the Bingley sisters offered only cold courtesy. Silence was broken only by Mrs. Annesley, a genteel, agreeable woman whose good breeding far exceeded the others’. Miss Bingley watched Elizabeth closely, especially when she tried to speak to Georgiana, and after a quarter of an hour of silence received a cold inquiry after her family’s health, which she answered with equal indifference.

While they ate cold meats, cake, and the finest fruits, Darcy entered, having left Mr. Gardiner and the other gentlemen at the river on learning the ladies were visiting Georgiana. Elizabeth had but a moment before believed her wishes to predominate; now she began to regret he came. She resolved to be perfectly at ease, for she saw the suspicions of the whole party were awakened and scarcely an eye did not watch his behaviour. In no countenance was attentive curiosity so strongly marked as in Miss Bingley’s, in spite of her smiles.

He was anxious for his sister and Elizabeth to become acquainted and forwarded every attempt at conversation. Miss Bingley, vexed, said with sneering civility, “Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the ––shire militia removed from Meryton? They must be a great loss to your family.”

In Darcy’s presence she dared not mention Wickham’s name, but Elizabeth understood the allusion, and the recollections gave her a moment’s distress. She answered in a disengaged tone, and an involuntary glance showed Darcy with heightened complexion, earnestly looking at her, and his sister overcome with confusion. Miss Bingley had not known of Georgiana’s meditated elopement; Darcy had been particularly anxious to conceal it, both for his friend’s sake and from that very wish Elizabeth had long ago attributed to him, of their becoming hereafter her own.

Elizabeth’s collected behaviour soon quieted his emotion. When Darcy attended them to the carriage, Miss Bingley vented her feelings in criticisms of Elizabeth’s person, behaviour, and dress; Georgiana would not join her, her brother’s recommendation having insured her favour. On Darcy’s return, Miss Bingley repeated her criticisms: “How very ill Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy. She is grown so brown and coarse!” Darcy replied coolly that he perceived no alteration except her being rather tanned—“no miraculous consequence of travelling in the summer.” Miss Bingley continued her catalogue of imagined defects until Darcy could contain himself no longer.

“Yes,” he replied, “but that was only when I first knew her; for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”

He went away, and Miss Bingley was left with all the satisfaction of having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself. On the way back to Lambton, Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth talked of all that had occurred except what had particularly interested them both—his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit, of everything but himself, though each was longing for the other to begin.