Old Friends and New Fancies (3 page)
could be endured with patience throughout a long dinner, even by
one who could derive quiet amusement from almost any kind of
harmless absurdity; and it was with a sigh of relief that Elizabeth
heard her aunt's peremptory command that everyone should go
and put on their coats and cloaks, for she would not have her party
arrive late for the beginning of the concert.
The ladies were distributed among various coaches, while
the gentlemen walked on. Elizabeth found that her companions
were to be her cousin and Miss Anne Steele; and during the drive she had leisure to remark, with great astonishment, the evident intimacy which existed between the young women. Anne tried to draw her into their discussions; but finding Mrs. Darcy resolutely silent, she turned to Miss de Bourgh, and began to rally her on the becomingness of the gown which the latter was wearing, accompanying her remarks with many giggles, mysterious whispers and covert references to "favourite colour" and "smart uniforms" which made Elizabeth wonder that her cousin could tolerate such treatment for an instant. But poor Anne de Bourgh's nature, only half developed by reason of her ill-health and her mother's forcefulness of character, had yielded entirely to the dominating influence exercised over her by a person nearer her own age, and one who made an effort to understand and play upon her weakness. Elizabeth soon began to perceive the secret of the intimacy--Miss Steele, in her anxiety to recommend herself to the de Bourgh family, had discovered that by enlivening and flattering the daughter she might best become a person of value to the mother. Anne Steele's last words before the carriage stopped were intended to be inaudible to Elizabeth,
and put the final touch to her disgust and dislike.
"Me and Lucy will be
so
miserable if you give us up now
these grand cousins of yours are come down, Miss Anne!" Miss de Bourgh made what was for her a vehement motion
of dissent, and when they had entered the room, Elizabeth, having piloted her charges to Lady Catherine's side, found a seat for
herself as far as possible from anyone connected with the Steele
family. Her husband joined her just before the concert began,
and in the double pleasure of listening to the music and feeling
his proximity, she forgot the previous vexations of the evening. "Well, how have you been getting on?" inquired a voice
behind her, in the first pause.
"Why, Fitzwilliam!" exclaimed Darcy, glancing round, "what
business have you up at this end? You ought to be squiring the
young ladies down there by my aunt."
"Poor Robert!" said Elizabeth. "He is only off duty for half
an hour."
"That is it," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I was exhausted,
and seeing this empty chair, I forthwith occupied it. Besides, I
want to hear the harp solo in peace and quiet. I have not heard
the harp played for years, and I am exceedingly fond of it." "That is the next one, I see. Hush, now! I know this man is
going to sing out of tune. He looks like it."
"We ought to have some compensation for listening to
that," murmured Darcy, when the song was done. "I believe Mr.
Collins would have given us a better performance." "He certainly is rather like Mr. Collins," remarked Elizabeth
reflectively. "Here comes the harp--and what a lovely girl! Is
her name on the programme? Yes, Miss Crawford."
Mary Crawford, who since Dr. Grant's death had entirely
lived with her sister, Mrs. Grant, at Bath, had lost none of the
beauty and charm which had captivated the heart of Edmund
Bertram: indeed, the four years which had elapsed since then
had given her form and air more regal elegance. The knowledge
of sorrow, and regret that she had so much to injure her own
chances of happiness, had softened her nature, and now, more
gentle, womanly and sympathetic, she was in many ways a different creature from the brilliant Miss Crawford of former days.
Mrs. Grant, while loving her devotedly and rejoicing in her companionship, still grieved in secret that no suitor worthy of her dear Mary should ever have succeeded Edmund Bertram, and that no second attachment should have taken place of one which, though renounced without bitterness, had nevertheless left a deep mark upon her sister's character. In Bath their lives were full of interest, and they made many friends; but Mary always laughed at her sister's plans for her marrying, and returned the same kind of answer. "I expect so much, you know, and the chosen he must expect so little, that I doubt whether we
should ever come to terms."
Her sister would protest against this, knowing well the real
worth of the disposition which Mary hid under a careless and
sometimes cold manner; but she also knew that Mary would be
more difficult to satisfy, both as regards her own qualities and
those of her possible husband, in consequence of the better taste
she had acquired at Mansfield. This evening, Miss Crawford,
who had consented to perform solely on account of the charitable object of the concert, was out of humour with herself and all
the world. Her sister being unwell, she had been obliged to
accept an escort to the concert, the company of Sir Walter and
Miss Elliot, whom, as residents in Bath, she had known since the
time of her sister's settling there. Miss Crawford's beauty of face
and figure were exactly what would recommend Sir Walter; and
while condemning her sister as dull and unfashionable, nothing
delighted him more than to be seen in public as squire of the
charming and elegant Miss Crawford. Six months' acquaintance
had caused her, on her side, thoroughly to weary of him, and on
the few occasions when she could not avoid a meeting she
endeavoured to converse with his eldest daughter, whom she found only a degree less tiresome and empty-headed. To-night, however, there was no help for it. With them she had come, with them she must remain, unluckily placed at a distance from any of her other Bath friends, her enjoyment of the music spoiled by her companions' irrelevant chatter, her only pleasure to acquit herself creditably in the piece she had chosen to play. This, at all events, was in her power, she felt, as she ascended the platform and shook off sensations of listlessness and ennui; and she succeeded so well that the audience were roused to a display of their delight and enthusiasm, and she had to return twice to acknowledge their plaudits. Next moment she perceived, or thought she perceived, that owing to an increased crowd in the lower part of the room she could not easily get back to her seat without making a little disturbance; so she slipped into a chair in the front row, which was
allotted to the performers, thankful even for a short respite. When the interval came, she remained where she was, and,
a few minutes later, seeing the gentleman who had been the
chief promoter of the concert trying to attract her attention, she
rose unwillingly, supposing that Sir Walter Elliot had come to
claim her. What was her surprise to hear Mr. Durand say: "Lady
Catherine de Bourgh particularly wishes to know you. May I
present you to her?"
Mary felt that she had not had much choice in the matter,
but she found herself curtseying to a tall and formidable-looking
elderly lady, dressed in rich brocades, who surveyed her as if from
a great height, and said: "Allow me to tell you, Miss Crawford,
how much pleased I was with your late performance on the harp.
I have heard every harp player of note in Europe during the last
forty years, and I may say I consider you quite equal to those of the second rank. Though not a performer myself, I am quite
acquitted with the difficulties of the instrument."
Mary hardly knew whether to be more vexed or amused at
this extraordinary address, and might have been inclined
towards the former, had not Mrs. Darcy, who had seen the beginning of the incident, and hastened forward lest her aunt's insolent patronage should offend, interposed with a kindly: "We
have all been enjoying your piece so much. It must be delightful
to be able to play like that. My aunt is such a lover of music that
she cannot hide her enthusiasm."
"And why should I hide it, may I ask?" demanded Lady
Catherine. "My judgment has often been of great service to young
amateurs, among whom you might include yourself, Elizabeth" "Yes, I know," replied Elizabeth, good-humouredly. "But
Miss Crawford cannot be classed with the average amateur. May
I introduce myself, as Mr. Durand has gone away? I am Mrs.
Darcy. I saw you sitting with the Elliots, so perhaps you know a
great friend of mine, Mrs. Wentworth."
Miss Crawford was about to enter gladly into the subject of
Mrs. Wentworth, when Lady Catherine interposed, and in a few
minutes, before Mary had quite realized what was happening,
she found herself giving the assurance that Mrs. Grant would be
delighted to receive a visit from Lady Catherine and Mrs. Darcy,
and that she herself would be present at Lady Catherine's reception in Pulteney Street in a fortnight's time. She hardly knew
how it had all come about, and she found herself wondering, as
she was led back to her seat by Sir Walter Elliot, whether it was
Lady Catherine's domineering manner, or Mrs. Darcy's kind
looks, that she had yielded to so easily. The Elliots were eager with their questions. What? she did not know that that was Lady Catherine de Bourgh? Everyone knew Lady Catherine, she came to Bath every year--a very well-preserved old lady, must be quite sixty and does not look more than forty-eight--people of property--large estate in Kent--"an acquaintance quite worth following up, my dear Miss Crawford; of course
we,
with our already large circle of friends, could not attempt to include persons who only come here for a short time; otherwise we should have been very happy to have visited Lady Catherine."
THE DARCYS FOUND PLENTY to enjoy during their stay in Bath, as after dutifully allotting part of the day to a call on Lady Catherine, or to joining her at the Lower Rooms, they were free to make their own engagements, and passed a good deal of their time with Lord and Lady Portinscale, Mr. Morland and the Wentworths, Colonel Fitzwilliam invariably forming one of the party. James Morland, the Portinscales' youngest guest, had favourably impressed them from the first, being a young man of sense, education and good address. The experience he had gained from his somewhat unfortunate friendship with the Thorpe family, followed by his closer acquaintance with the Tilneys, had been an incalculable benefit to him in helping to form his character and in teaching him what are the qualities in a friend which win sincere love and respect. Hard work, resolution and regret for his own follies, and the encouragement and kindness he had received from his relations, had combined to put Isabella Thorpe out of his head, and to recuperate a heart he had thought blighted over for ever. He had within the last few weeks been obliged to resign the curacy he had held since his ordination, on account of the ill effects of the air of the valley on his health; and was now earnestly hoping to grow strong enough to resume work in some other part of the country, as he had, of course, resolved upon remaining a bachelor all his life, and making his church and parish suffice in place of domestic joys. His somewhat diffident manner in the society of men so much older than himself as Mr. Darcy and Captain Wentworth did him no disservice with them; and before they had known the particulars of his history for many days, Mr. Darcy was meditating upon the possibility of giving him material assistance in his career.
In the meantime, Elizabeth, independently of Lady Catherine, had exchanged calls with Mrs. Grant, whom she found anxious to be friendly, more anxious, indeed, than Mary, who, while appreciating Mrs. Darcy's kindness and charm, greatly disliked the patronizing manners of the mistress of Rosings Park. A few days after the concert the sisters spent a morning in Mrs. Darcy's sitting-room. Elizabeth had never neglected her study of the pianoforte or of singing, and as Mary, at the earnest request of her hostess, had brought her harp, the pleasure of the whole party, sometimes in conversation, sometimes in music, was ensured.
"Colonel Fitzwilliam is very fond of music, is he not?" Mrs. Grant said to Mrs. Darcy, glancing across the room to where the Colonel and her sister were engaged in animated discussion of the latest importations from German composers. "He really does like it, does not praise it out of mere politeness?"
"My dear Mrs. Grant! He is the most enthusiastic amateur I know. I often tell my husband that he would never had fallen in love with me if Colonel Fitzwilliam and I not struck up a friendship over music, which made him think there was more in me than he had perceived before. He himself is not such a good judge of it, but my cousin was greatly struck with your sister's playing the other night, and it really is appreciation from him."
"I am so glad: it will be a pleasure to Mary to meet him. Excuse my asking--I cannot quite understand--does he live with you or with your aunt?"
"With neither; he is our guest when we are in Bath, and he stays a great deal with us in the country; but he has rooms in London, and, I think, honestly prefers town as a residence, but that he is so fond of my husband and all his belongings."
There was a pause, and then Elizabeth added, a sudden thought having flashed through her mind: "He is an excellent man; it is impossible for us to think more highly of anyone than we do of him; but he labours under what he considers to be an insuperable disadvantage--he is a younger son, and therefore not much blessed with this world's goods."
She had hardly finished speaking when the door opened to admit two ladies, whom she recognized as her aunt's latest protegees.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Anne Steele, before she was fairly in the room; "quite a cosy little musical party, I declare! Lord! what a pity we have interrupted the music? We wouldn't have if we'd have known! And here we've run all the way upstairs--"
Lucy managed to silence her sister, and began a kind of tour of the room, making formal greetings to everyone she knew, and pausing in so pointed a way before Mrs. Grant and Mary, that Elizabeth, with great reluctance, was obliged to introduce Mrs. Robert Ferrars and Miss Steele. This accomplished, Lucy's errand was allowed to be divulged.
"We are driving out with Lady Catherine in the barouche landau, and she called here in passing, to say if Colonel Fitzwilliam was in she would like him to come too and make a fourth," she explained, with assistance from Anne. "We are not going far," she added for the benefit of the company in general; "only to Monkton Combe and back before dinner. Poor Miss de Bourgh is so very unwell to-day she did not feel inclined to drive out; and my sister and I just happened to be calling in Pulteney Street as Lady Catherine was starting out, so she was so very kind as to bring us along."
"It is fortunate," said Elizabeth smilingly, "that my aunt was able to secure your companionship; for, as I have visitors, I am not sure that I could spare my cousin this morning." She glanced at Fitzwilliam, who was impatiently waiting for an opportunity to answer. "No, certainly not. I am much obliged, but I am not able to come to-day."
Miss Steele's manner suffered from a diminution of sprightliness, even while she urged on the Colonel the necessity of taking advantage of the fine weather; but Darcy quietly interposed with: "Is my aunt's carriage at the door?" Lucy was obliged to admit that it was.
"Shall we go and make your excuses then, Fitzwilliam," he continued, "if our guests will kindly excuse us for a moment? Will you give Mrs. Ferrars your arm? Mrs. Ferrars, I greatly regret not being able to detain you, but I know it would not be kind, as my aunt has such a dislike to be kept waiting, especially in the open street."
The result of this was, that without quite knowing how it happened, Lucy and her sister found themselves in the hall again almost as soon as the waiter showed them up; were in the carriage, and driving away, the apologies of the gentlemen having been graciously accepted, and Mr. Darcy was saying to his friend as they returned: "The only way with these people is firmness; you are much too gentle."
"I don't feel particularly gentle after that interruption," replied the other, "though you got me out of it very well. My aunt seems to have a special grudge against me this time. I suppose she is working off her irritation; well, rather on me than on your sister."
"I do not believe it is that," answered Darcy; "she is, and always was, a tool in the hands of unscrupulous flatterers. If it were worthwhile, Elizabeth and I would rush to the rescue; but there is sure to be a tremendous explosion before long; they will all quarrel violently, she will come and tell us that they are ungrateful vipers, or something like that, and next year it will begin all over again with someone else."
Catherine mind?"
"No, he has got off with a whole skin this time," replied her
husband, "or rather, not quite a whole one, for he has had to pledge
himself to join the expedition to Clifton to-morrow instead." "I had forgotten that expedition to Clifton," Elizabeth
exclaimed in dismay; "I wish it would rain! But if it did, we
should only have to go another day. Mr. Morland, have you been
to Clifton? Oh, do say it will be quite new to you! You can't? Is
there no one who has never been there? My aunt makes up a
party every year, for her newest friends, and we always do the
same things and make the same remarks."
Elizabeth's forecast created much amusement, and Miss
Crawford said: "Everything I hear beforehand of Lady Catherine is very alarming to a stranger like myself. I shall have to have caught a bad cold before her reception next week, for I shall not
have the courage to appear and play."
"Oh, no, Miss Crawford, you must appear," said Darcy. "We
are all too bad, with our jokes about her, for really she means to
be very kind. But we have got into shocking ways since my wife
married into the family."
"On the contrary, I think I have educated you all admirably." "You are a privileged person, you see," said Colonel
Fitzwilliam. "Miss Crawford, will you do us the kindness of playing again? I want to reap the advantage of the present moment,
as the reception is a long way off."
The lady acceded with willingness, and at the conclusion of
her piece Colonel Fitzwilliam sat down near her and found himself soon conversing with more ease and enjoyment than he had
done for many months. Their talk was only of the most ordinary
subjects; but the Colonel's simplicity and culture appealed to the
best that was in Mary, and he found in her a ready sympathy, felt
rather than expressed. His views of London life--so pleasant, so
stimulating for the greater part of the year, but the country was
better for a permanent home--exactly coincided with Mary's;
and almost to her surprise, she heard herself vehemently asserting
that town might be the place to make friends, but the country
was the place to enjoy them. "You are a lover of country sports?"
questioned the Colonel; "of riding and driving?" Mary answered
enthusiastically, though repressing a sigh at the recollection of
her first riding lessons. Did she ride at Bath? He could recommend her some good livery stables. His cousin, Mrs. Darcy, did
not care for it, else some agreeable plans might have been made. Meantime, the conversation was quite as animated in the
other group. James Morland was asking if the ladies were those
whom General Tilney and his son had lately met at dinner in
Pulteney Street.
"Yes, you are right," replied Elizabeth. "Did you hear of that
dinner-party?"
"Lady Portinscale told me. I should not otherwise have
known, for I don't see mush of the General and Captain Tilney,"
James Morland answered with a smile.
"I thought Eleanor told me all was forgiven?"
"Catherine is, but her relations do not pass the censor. Still,
it does not matter in the least, so long as he is kind to her, and I
think I may say he is."
"I suppose he is often at the Portinscales'?" observed
Elizabeth.
"Fairly often, but Lord Portinscale contrives that he does not
stay too long; he thinks it worries Eleanor, and, as you know, she is
anxious to take care of herself and go in thoroughly for the cure." "Dear Eleanor! I am so devoted to her."
"Yes, indeed, one would be; she is the kindest friend anyone
could possibly have. Do you know, Mrs. Darcy, they insist on my
having a sitting-room to myself, where I can read undisturbed, or
I can spend my time with them, just as I like."
"That is a nice arrangement; and you are better for coming
to Bath?"
"Yes, a great deal better. I should be able to get to work in a
very short time now, if only" (rather mournfully), "some work
could be found."
"I am sure it can, if you are patient," said Elizabeth kindly.
"The very thing one wants often drops upon one unexpectedly. Do you know our part of the world at all? You must come and pay us a visit some time; the Derbyshire air is splendidly bracing, and
would benefit you."
Morland said all that was proper, and Elizabeth, who had
been trying unsuccessfully to catch her husband's eye, continued: "We are fortunate in our Rector at home, and even more
fortunate in his wife; they have just come to Pemberley, and
oddly enough, they are related to these very people of whom we
have been talking, but as different from them as possible." "Indeed! the Ferrars, or Steele--I have not made them out
yet--"
'Mr. Edward Ferrars, our Rector, is a brother of Mr. Robert
Ferrars, husband of the lady in blue. It is rather difficult to keep
Mrs. Robert Ferrars off the subject when she is with us, as she
seems to think it establishes a sort of connection, although they
don't visit their relations."
"Perhaps they will do so now," said Morland, with a slight
smile. "It is your own parish that you mentioned?"
"Yes, it is a fair-sized village that has grown up round the
house, or, rather, round a much older house that formerly stood
on the site, It is such beautiful country, Mr. Morland! You really
must see it."
Mrs. Grant came towards Elizabeth to take leave, and they
stood chatting together while Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss
Crawford rose and joined them.
"To-morrow, then, at eleven o'clock, you are sure suits you?"
the gentleman was saying. "Mrs. Grant, your sister has been so
kind as to say that, with your permission, I may be her escort on
a ride, if a horse can be found that suits her."
"Riding? She will enjoy that," said Mrs. Grant, with
momentary surprise. "She has not ridden for a long time. We
have never tried to get her a horse in Bath."
It seemed that the whole thing had been thought out--all
difficulties could be got over, Colonel Fitzwilliam assured her, if
she would trust her sister to him for an hour or two; and Mary
having expressed a proper amount of amiability and approbation, the arrangement was confirmed.
"But what about your engagement--the day at Clifton?"
Mrs. Grant unluckily remembered, in the midst of the adieux.
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked as if he were determined to forget
the existence of such a place; Mr. Darcy reproached himself for
having furthered the scheme; and Miss Crawford immediately
said: "Oh, pray do not give that up on my account. We can ride
another day, if we care about it."
"Not at all, Miss Crawford. Excuse me, but I should not
think of giving up our plan. It is not at all necessary for me to go
to Clifton."
"It would not be fair to make you break a prior engagement.
No, let us put it off from to-morrow," was the lady's response. Elizabeth interposed with, "If you and Miss Crawford went
out a little earlier, you could still be at Clifton in time for dinner, Robert, which would quite satisfy my aunt."
Darcy joined his advice to his wife's; and as a matter can
generally be easily arranged by a number of people who are all in
favour of it, the ride was fixed for ten o'clock, and the ladies took
their departure among many promises of meeting again. James
Morland shortly afterwards left, Colonel Fitzwilliam accompanying him as far as his road lay in the direction of the livery stables; and Elizabeth sat down to write letters, but she had not got very far before a new idea struck her which must immediately be acted upon. "Darcy," she exclaimed, rising and going to her husband, who was occupied with the newspaper, "can you listen to me? I want to help Mr. Morland in some way. I was thinking about it this morning while I was talking to him. He ought to have work to do, and he is such a good young fellow. Could you not make
him Mr. Ferrars's curate, or something?"
Darcy smiled at his wife's earnestness. "You will be surprised
to hear, my dear, that I had already thought of helping him." "You had? How good of you. You can do it better than anyone else. He will be an object worthy of your interest." "But though I had considered the question of the curacy, I had
dismissed it as unsatisfactory. Mr. Ferrars does not want a curate,
and Mr. Morland does want a living. I do not know if I told you
that I heard before I went away that the old Rector of Kympton
was likely to resign. If so, I shall have a living to present." "And did you think of Mr. Morland? How delightful that
would be. The very thing for him."
"We must not say anything about it at present, for I cannot
hurry the old man out; but I expect to hear in the course of a
month."
"I am sure you can bring it about successfully. How well
everything is going to-day! Some dreadful catastrophe is sure to
happen soon."
"What else has gone well?"
"Why, Robert's getting on so excellently with Miss
Crawford. She is such a thoroughly nice woman, and it is certain
to do Robert good."
"I would not think too much about that, Lizzy. Robert gets on
well with all nice women, and as to Miss Crawford, I should say she
is accustomed to receiving a considerable amount of admiration." "Nonsense! You shall not spoil my pleasure in it. Why should
they not be friends and nothing more? I took care to do him a
good turn too; I told Mrs. Grant the thing I could about him,
namely, that he is not well off. I knew he would tell them himself,
and make the most of it, in that disparaging way he has, as if it
were a great blot on his character, or some serious personal defect.
He has become so diffident the last few months that I have no
patience with him! He does not value himself properly, and
causes people to undervalue him."
"One cannot say that diffidence is a fault of Miss Crawford's
other admirer, Sir Walter Elliot."
"No, the tiresome, dressed-up doll! She is so sensible, that I
cannot understand her having those people for her friends." "Perhaps she has no choice. Possibly the acquaintance was of
their seeking; she may have made a mistake. Who knows? Even
the wisest of us may sometimes be mistaken in our estimates of
one another, may we not, Elizabeth?"