Old Friends and New Fancies (13 page)

Was that, then, why she had seemed not to wish to be too friendly--because it was too late? He was forced to believe it; he could indeed easily believe anything that was a proof against her consideration, her goodness of heart, that had endeavoured to save him pain. He could and did believe that he had failed to win her, but that she could have accepted Sir Walter Elliot left him for many hours stunned and incredulous. That she, with her many gifts of mind and body, her true elegance, her sensibility, her refinement of breeding, placing her in almost a different world from the vulgar pretentiousness of Sir Walter and his daughter, which in Bath had so often seemed uncongenial to her, should now actually find such a man all-sufficient, and should consent to join her life with his, was an outrage, a madness--all the more so if she had drifted into it in the way the onlookers imagined. She could not know what she was doing. Her friends--what were they about? She must be warned. Fitzwilliam impulsively strode to the door, then stopped and flung himself down with a bitter laugh at his own folly--he to be raging through all the commonplace jealousies of a rejected lover, like any boy of nineteen! What could he or anyone else do? Miss Crawford was perfectly free to choose; she had a brother, with whose knowledge she was probably acting, and there was nothing to be alleged against Sir Walter Elliot's character. Recollecting the comments he had heard that evening, Fitzwilliam was forced to the same conclusions; to acknowledging that Miss Elliot, Mary's own friend, had in all probability promoted the match; that Henry Crawford, weak and unstable where women's persuasions were concerned, had allowed himself to be drawn into the Elliot net, and that his sister, though she could have little real regard for Sir Walter, wished to settle down and, her fortune making her independent of means in her future husband, had chosen where her fancy and a title attracted her.
How mean, how sordid was the whole story! Not the least heartrending of Colonel Fitzwilliam's reflections that night was that it could not be his Mary, the true Mary who had shown herself to him for a short time, who was now taking this step, so unworthy of her best self. For the woman he knew her to be, what happiness could be in store?

GEORGIANA WAS ALONE IN the drawing-room of Mrs. Annesley's house on the following morning, practising the pianoforte, when the expected rap at the front door was heard, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was presently ushered into the room. She sprang up to welcome him, prepared for a cheerful greeting, but was unspeakably concerned at the sight of his haggard face and worn, exhausted looks, the more so because he made no attempt to account for them, but forced a smile, accepted the chair which she offered him, and endeavoured to speak as usual. Georgiana begged him to partake of some refreshment, and expressed a fear that he was ill, not daring to give utterance to her real conjecture.

"No, no, Georgiana, thank you. I will not have anything; I assure you I am not ill. I have only come to wish you good-bye, as I have changed my plans; I--I am thinking of going to Ireland."

"To Ireland!" repeated Georgiana in consternation. "Yes, I have friend who owns an estate there, and he has often invited me to come over and fish and shoot with him, so I shall start to-night, and take him by surprise, arriving early next week."
"But--to Ireland!" Georgiana could only repeat, so utterly bewildered was she. "Dear Cousin Robert, I am so sorry; I wish you need not . . . would you not go to Pemberley? Elizabeth and Darcy would so gladly receive you, or do anything--"
"I know they would; there is nothing that goodness and kindness suggest that would not occur to them, but I do not think I could go there just at present. Will you give them my love, Georgiana when you are next writing, and tell them of my movements? I will write to them from Ireland and give them my direction."
"Indeed, indeed, I will, but may I not tell them anything more? Oh, how I wish I could help you in any way," exclaimed Georgiana, anxiety showing itself so acutely in every syllable that Fitzwilliam was forced to get up to avert his face from hers, lest his self-command should be too sorely tried.
"My dear, kind little cousin, I shall always be grateful to you, even though I fear it is not in your power to help me just now. Some day, perhaps, we may speak of it; in the meantime--I have had a great disappointment, and I think I had better go away for awhile, so as to be more fit to meet my friends when I return." He came back to her, raised her up, and spoke with resolution and cheerfulness. "Come, Georgiana, do not be sad, it is not worth while. I shall probably be at Pemberley in the autumn, and we must do something then to make up for the loss of our exploration party now. Do not think of me--at least, only think of me as catching and eating a great many salmon. I hope you will have great deal of pleasure still in London. You return to the Hursts today, do you not? Will you make my excuses to Mrs. Annesley?"
During this speech Georgiana had striven to recover her composure, and she managed at the conclusion of it to look up at him with a tolerably calm face and to promise to deliver his messages. She felt convinced that he had been refused by Miss Crawford, and the situation was to her so dreadful, so far beyond repair, that it was a relief to see her cousin's courage, and to know that he did not wish to hear vain and spiritless words of consolation, words which she hardly could have been able to utter, even had he been able to listen, from the very surcharge of tender feeling that burdened her heart. Nevertheless, her sympathy was reflected in her eyes, and in the gentle voice with which she bid him adieu and wished him well. Fitzwilliam was not insensible to it. It gave him the only comfort he could have received at such a time; and pressing her hand warmly, with a very earnest "God bless you!" he quitted the room.
As his footsteps died away Georgiana sank into a chair and wept bitterly. So brief had been his visit--a few ticks of the clock had seen his arrival and his departure; and in those few moments the aspect of everything had changed. Since their last meeting Georgiana had dwelt incessantly upon his prospects of happiness, and allowed herself to think of them as being in a fair way to become realized. The difficulty which Elizabeth must have referred to, and Mr. Yates had actually hinted at, could surely be cleared away now that he and Miss Crawford had met again; and Georgiana had not been able to read cruelty or harshness in that fair face. Time only--a very short time--would be necessary, and once Miss Crawford knew Fitzwilliam as he was, the rest would follow as a matter of course: for how could any woman whom he really loved be able to resist him? So reasoned Georgiana, and the collapse of her kindly hopes brought back all her old sense of personal guilt; she, too, was partly responsible for her cousin's dire fate, for was she not one of the two women who had failed to make him happy? She who had not been able to inspire him with a real love, and Miss Crawford who could not respond to it now it was fully awakened.
The luxury of grief could not be long indulged in, for tearstained features must not be shown to her friends, nor was there leisure that day to pour out her heart in a letter to Elizabeth. Georgiana had to keep her sorrowful thoughts to herself, and fortunately it was not necessary to give any explanation of Colonel Fitzwilliam's abrupt departure from town to Mrs. Annesley; the simple statement that he had gone, leaving apologies and suitable compliments, was sufficient. With her hostesses in Grosvenor Street, however, it was a different matter, and Georgiana lacked courage to introduce the subject until a morning or two later, at breakfast, choosing the moment when the letters had just been brought in and everyone had only that remnant of attention to spare which their meal and their correspondence had not absorbed. Mr. Hurst asked a question or two, which, as his wife and sister were speaking at the same time, went so long unanswered that he quite forgot them; Louisa showed surprise and offended dignity that the Colonel had not paid a farewell call on her before leaving; while Caroline, with less pride and a great deal of curiosity, attempted at first to draw Georgiana into some admission beyond the mere mention of the fact, but remembering by happy chance to have heard the name of the friend in Ireland, and even that of his estate, she was able to her own satisfaction to convert the mysterious journey into an engagement of respectably long standing. Georgiana breathed more freely; she had dreaded Miss Bingley's cross-examination, and still so dreaded anyone guessing at her cousin's misfortune that she even deviated so far from her usual truthfulness as to say, "Yes, probably he had been intending to go all the time, as soon as the weather should be suitable."
It was the greatest comfort to feel that with Elizabeth there need be no concealment. Already a description of the meeting with Miss Crawford had travelled to Pemberley, but with none but the simplest and most obvious comment; Georgiana asked, as directed by Fitzwilliam, for more particulars connected with her new acquaintance, but until she had been openly admitted to a share in her elders' knowledge she did not like to speak of what was still mere guesswork. But now, although Elizabeth's answer had not yet been received, she felt she could write more freely; she only had been allowed a glimpse of her cousin's inmost heart, she only had witnessed his grief and had been allowed to surmise its origin; she could be the indirect means of bringing him the quick sympathy of his two best friends, and she was justified in telling her sister of all she knew and all she conjectured. "He had been refused, dear Elizabeth," ran one sentence, "it can be nothing else, and I fear it is irrevocable. Poor Cousin Robert! He feels it so terribly. Can nothing be done for him? You know her, you know them both, he is sure to tell you all. Do help him, dear Elizabeth; you always help people who are in trouble."
Her letter closed and dispatched, she experienced a feeling of relief from strain, having left her cousin's affairs in more capable hands than her own. His sad face long haunted her, but the words she had written reminded her of another person who was now probably calling upon Elizabeth for sympathy and help. Not that Kitty had been by any means forgotten, but in the silence that followed on her departure, and the new interest that had occupied the last few days, the ball and its attendant emotions had been rather pushed to one side. But Georgiana had returned to Grosvenor Street fully expecting to find a letter from Derbyshire, or intelligence of Kitty in some other form.
Her own letter to Elizabeth, concluded the morning after the ball, had contained, in addition to an account of that memorable event, a paragraph to this effect: "Kitty has something extremely interesting to tell you. I shall not spoil her pleasure by anticipating her, but only add that I believe everything is going to turn out just as happily as she would like and as we should like for her. Pray, pray, give me your opinion on this important matter as soon as you can form one. I am longing to have it." A reply to this letter was indeed awaiting her, but did not give the desired information, as Elizabeth, though anxious to hear Kitty's news, had not yet had an opportunity of seeing her, and Kitty herself had not written. She was a wretched correspondent, and the delights of the first few days with Jane and the children doubtless absorbed both head and hands. Bingley's own notes to his sisters during that week were useless. One announced his and Kitty's safe arrival, another requested the forwarding of some stockings he had left behind; was it likely that such communications would have any bearing upon an important matter like the progress of a young lady's love affair? As to Mr. Price, Georgiana knew nothing, and was prepared for anything; it was quite possible that he had been unable to wait for the shooting of Mr. Bingley's pheasants and was at that moment in Derbyshire.
Upon this point, however, elucidation was presently forthcoming. At the dinner-table that afternoon Miss Bingley suddenly inquired: "Did I tell you, Georgiana, that we had a call from Charles's friend, Mr. Price, one day last week?"
"No," replied Georgiana, startled by such an abrupt incursion into the subject. "I had not heard. Were you at home? Did you see him?"
"Yes, we were all at home. He is an agreeable young fellow; manners a little too self-possessed, perhaps, for his age, but they are what these naval men acquire. He asked after you, rather as if he expected to find you here."
Georgiana said to herself that he wanted the latest news of Kitty, or, at all events, any he could not obtain from Mrs. Knightley, and was glad to be saved the necessity of replying aloud by Mrs. Hurst's beginning to speak. Yes, they had quite liked him; she thought of inviting him to fill a vacant place at a dinner she was giving the following week, for these young men who had travelled could always talk entertainingly enough to be worth while; but she would like to be assured of his character; she fancied he had been a good deal run after and spoilt, and certainly he was a great flirt.
Georgiana's heart swelled, and her pulse beat quick at such an accusation, while she uttered a mild but steady protest against it. Mrs. Hurst maintained her ground, but her young guest was supported by Miss Bingley, who said: "Nonsense, Louisa, you know I have told you there is really nothing in that. All these young officers, especially those who have seen service, are bound to be run after, whether they will or not. And as to his being a great flirt, we have seen him once or twice going about with a very good-looking woman, and that is all the reason we have for thinking so."
"How can you say such a thing, Caroline? Mr. Price is perfectly at liberty to go about with as many handsome women as he likes, even if their brothers are notoriously vicious, but if he is engaged to one of them--and from all we heard and saw at Emma Knightley's the other night he certainly ought to be--one has a right to expect a little more discretion."
"It is not at all certain that he is engaged to Kitty Bennet, I believe," said Caroline; "you know Emma Knightley's great schemes do not always come to anything." Georgiana was thereupon appealed to by both sisters to give a denial or confirmation of the fact alleged, and she could only say that she believed that at present he and Kitty were not engaged.
"That rather supports my opinion of him," said Mrs. Hurst. "But I shall be glad to be proved wrong. Georgiana, if you are behind the scenes, you must let us know as soon as there is anything to be told."
"And in the meantime, unless you think Mr. Price likely to injure our morals, you had better invite him to dinner," added her sister.
Georgiana felt unaccountably disturbed by this conversation. She could not bear hearing a person ill spoken of whom she had every wish and reason to like and esteem, and though she felt sure her own impressions of Mr. Price, which differed so widely from Mrs. Hurst's, were far more likely to be the correct ones, her timidity in trusting her own judgments caused her to pause and wonder whether she had been too hasty in being so impulsively delighted with him; ought she not, as Kitty's friend, to be more cautious until she had been sure that he was not going to disappoint the hopes of that friend? That he
had
raised high hopes, Georgiana knew, but even supposing Kitty's imagination had been her strong ally, his attentions, and Kitty's willing acceptance of them, had clearly been such as to expose her to remark. Georgiana sighed over the difficulties of the whole problem. She could not bring herself to believe that William Price was a flirt, though the picture of him in constant attendance upon a handsome woman who had doubtful relations, when he should have thought only of Kitty, was an unwelcome one. No one with that countenance, that frank smile and clear honest eye could surely be other than he seemed, and yet-- Georgiana had not to look far into the past to find a disappointment, as unexpected, as severe, as Mr. Price's defection could be. The persons who were apparently most attractive could often fail one most disastrously. With Miss Crawford's image on one side of her, and William Price's on the other, Georgiana felt that anything was possible, but she resolved to keep an open mind; she recollected that Kitty and Mrs. Knightley must know him more intimately than Mrs. Hurst did, and in trying to obliterate the latter's words from her mind she fell into a reverie, wherein she lived again through every joyous moment of Mrs. Knightley's ball.
During the ensuing week the long-wished-for letters arrived, but, as is usual in such cases, they fell far short of expectation. Which of us has not looked forward, some time or another, to receiving a letter which we are convinced will have an important effect upon our minds? It will clear up a mystery, give specific information, console us in affliction, or furnish the exact counsels which we need; we depend upon it for one or all of these things, and we continue to do so, even though the letter which arrives after so much anticipation is almost always inadequate. It tells us half instead of all we expected our correspondent to know, its advice has overlooked our difficulties and does not meet the case, its words of comfort are few and arid. Yet hope leads us ever on, and the envelope bearing our friend's handwriting is torn open with as much eagerness at the fiftieth crisis as at the first. Georgiana put down Elizabeth's letter with a feeling of disappointment, yet telling herself that she could not have expected anything else. Elizabeth wrote that various matters had prevented her from seeing Kitty up to that time, but that she had heard from Jane all particulars of Kitty's acquaintanceship with Mr. Price, with additional interest from having heard his name already from the Wentworths, and was inclined to entertain the most favourable hopes regarding it; it was difficult to say more without seeing the young people together, and they could only look forward to the visit in November, and trust to it to bring about the happiest results. This was the ordinary, sensible view, and Georgiana took up Kitty's letter wondering whether she was now calm enough in mind to be induced to take the same.