Pemberley (20 page)

Charlotte ended with such expressions of affection that Elizabeth stayed a long time, reading and re-reading the letter. Longbourn – where she had passed her childhood – Longbourn, which might be unbearably changed since Mr Collins had settled there. But it was still Longbourn, filled with memories of Mr Bennet and happy days. And Mrs Bennet was not at Meryton Lodge; she was in Manchester.

Elizabeth wrote to her friend and announced her arrival at Longbourn House.

Every stage in Elizabeth's journey gave her a fresh sense of freedom, and of hope. Pemberley lay behind her, very dark on a day that threatened more snow, and was already wet, so the chaise was several times stuck in the mud. But Elizabeth could reflect that the Hertfordshire mud, towards which she travelled, was of an altogether different hue from that of Derbyshire: that she would feel herself renewed by sights once so familiar and now not seen for so long; and that she would put this chapter behind her, however hard it might be – though it was too late, it was true, to laugh it off, as she might have done had she and Mr Darcy fallen out prior to the marriage instead of later.

Still, she left no outstanding debt behind her. There was no one who would cry for her, at Pemberley, even if it meant she must admit Georgiana Darcy had once seemed to her as dear as a sister. No – Georgiana was Mr Darcy's sister, not hers. She had gone to London with Miss Bingley, to meet the fashionable people Darcy had always proclaimed he despised. Aunt and uncle Gardiner would come down from Rowsley none the worse for their visit to Pemberley – though Mr Gardiner would not now get his day's fishing. Had he not said on the occasion of their first visit there that great men such as Mr Darcy were too prone to change their minds and act on whim – that he would not take the first invitation to try his line seriously, unless it were offered a second time? He had not been mistaken. The second invitation
had
come, but bad weather had stood in the way, and now there would not be another. Mr Darcy was not likely to continue his acquaintance with such as the Gardiners.

Mr Darcy had done no more than act on a whim, so Elizabeth
thought as the chaise carried her further from Pemberley. He had repented his arrogance towards Mrs Bennet; and he had used, doubtless, the excuse of business interests in London to conceal his intention of designing a house for her mother, to entertain in; but it had not been so very much more than a whim, after all. He could not know what she had deduced from Mr Gresham of his past; he was exasperated by Mrs Bennet, and no doubt by Master Roper also, and certainly by the huddle of people marooned two nights under his roof when they had not been invited for more than refreshment and a tour of the park. But was this enough to justify a departure so cruel and sudden, without informing her – leaving her at the mercy of his aunt's superiority and Miss Bingley's triumph? More and more it seemed to her that, if this was not a whim, she could not define it better. For could a single argument end a marriage – or announce an estrangement, at least, which was the effect of Mr Darcy's departure? He was bored with her and he went to London to seek happiness elsewhere: that was all.

The journey was long. But, when the lanes of Hertfordshire showed themselves, Elizabeth cried out with delight – the twist in the road, the palings of the park, all received her at Longbourn as if she had not been long gone. The chaise stopped outside the front door, after traversing the gravel sweep; and Elizabeth could even resign herself to the fact of Mr Collins's coming out on to the doorstep, instead of her father. Before she had left the chaise, he had his speech under way. Only Charlotte coming out and laughing at him to allow poor Elizabeth to alight and recover brought his list of obsequious greetings to a halt.

Elizabeth saw instantly that her cousin's manners were not altered by inheriting the house and estate where she herself had spent her childhood with her sisters. He detained her on the step some minutes, to ask details of the welfare of Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh; and then of her family. He led her – just as she thought the hall and Charlotte's sweet presence as confidante and
friend lay before her – to look at the new currant bushes he had put in behind the house, in a garden walled off from the rest – an idea he had obtained from Lady Catherine on her return from a visit to Scotland. At last, he allowed Elizabeth into the house – and repeated several times that Longbourn must appear small and humble indeed, to one accustomed to Pemberley. ‘You are more than welcome,' said Mr Collins. ‘You will find some curtains and chair covers that will surprise you – designs taken from Rosings, when my dear Charlotte and I were at the parsonage. Lady de Bourgh was kind enough to permit Charlotte to order a cretonne exactly identical to hers.'

Elizabeth admired everything she was shown; and was at last taken to her room – which, she saw with a pang, had been Mr Bennet's – and Charlotte came to offer tea and help her unpack her bag.

Elizabeth now heard of Charlotte's happiness, and her expectations of motherhood. ‘I shall be so well appointed here, at Longbourn! The upper floor shall be for myself and the baby – I have put pictures and prints up there for the sweet creature to look on pretty things as soon as he is born – although I hope' – and here Charlotte blushed – ‘I do hope for a daughter, Elizabeth!'

Elizabeth said she knew Charlotte would make an excellent mother. If she noted to herself that Mrs Collins had placed herself in future upstairs with the child, rather than in the nuptial chamber with Mr Collins, she did not remark on it.

‘But I feel ashamed,' cried Charlotte. ‘I boast of my happiness. Now I want to hear of yours! Your Mama has been round here, speaking of the jewels and carriages your marriage to Mr Darcy has brought you! And joy also, I hope, dear Lizzy, for you do deserve it, you know! We have had a letter from Mrs Bennet' – here Charlotte's voice dropped, and she looked attentively at the carpet by the side of her chair. ‘Is she entirely well? She appears … overwrought. But I dare say it was the excitement of visiting Pemberley.'

‘Yes, I dare say,' said Elizabeth.

‘She spoke to Mrs Long – I know this is indiscreet, but you will find that Meryton has not changed – of becoming engaged to a major in the army. Is this true?'

‘A colonel,' Elizabeth corrected her friend, before recalling that Mr Kitchiner was nothing of the kind. ‘But I do not think anything will come of it, Charlotte.'

‘Tell me of life with Mr Darcy,' Charlotte cried. ‘I cannot wait! You are the envy of all the country, you know, Lizzy!'

Elizabeth told the story; and Charlotte's face grew ever more grave as she heard it.

‘A Frenchwoman? Living in the village with his child? I do not believe it! It cannot be true!'

Elizabeth spoke of Mr Gresham's credentials and sincerity in such a way as to leave no doubt in the mind of her friend.

‘But what will you do, Eliza? What will become of you?'

Elizabeth replied that she would go to teach children: ‘I am good with children, I earnestly believe,' she said simply, ‘even if I am barren – '

‘Oh, do not say that, Lizzy!'

‘I intend to devote my life to the education of children who have not been favoured by circumstances.'

‘Mrs Darcy a teacher! Mrs Darcy a governess! Impossible!' cried Charlotte.

‘It is not impossible at all, my dear Charlotte. I have written to a Mrs Wood in London, a good friend of my aunt Gardiner; and I shall go there from here. I have the name of a good woman who cares for orphans in Hackney; and my work may well take me for years at a stretch out of England.'

‘Oh, this is dreadful,' said Charlotte, who now began to weep.

Elizabeth said gently that she did not find it dreadful at all. ‘What would be unimaginable would be to spend another minute of my life with a man so detestable, so filled with a monstrous pride and insolence, as Mr Darcy.'

‘Oh, I never thought to hear this!' cried Charlotte.

Elizabeth embraced her friend and suggested they go into Meryton after she had changed her clothes and bathed – ‘for we did enjoy walking there together, Charlotte, did we not, when we were young?'

‘Yes, yes – we shall go today, for tomorrow the doctor comes to me at Longbourn. I would so like you with me, for my own comfort, Lizzy!'

‘Does not Mr Collins attend you?' said Elizabeth.

‘Oh, he will, Lizzy, if I ask him! But he tells Dr Carr at such length of the difficult birth that was had by Lady de Bourgh with her daughter Anne – and which her ladyship had intimated to him, but without giving any particular, of course, that I am barely looked at at all!'

‘Then we shall go to Meryton today,' said Elizabeth. And she rose, to continue with unpacking her bag and making ready for the trip.

‘My mother will be overjoyed to see you!' cried Charlotte. ‘She wishes to hear everything of life at Pemberley!' Here Charlotte paused and looked downcast.

‘And how is Sir William?' enquired Elizabeth, for she wished to help Charlotte out of her awkwardness. ‘Your father is in as good health as Lady Lucas, I trust?'

‘Certainly,' said Charlotte. ‘Indeed, he is recently returned from the court of St James, and he reported that he spoke with Mr Darcy there. We thought you must be in London,' she added, before falling silent once more.

Meryton on a winter's afternoon was just as Elizabeth recalled it. She was struck by the differences between a southern town and a small town in Derbyshire, such as Matlock. And, even as she went along, she found herself back in Derbyshire again, living her new life with Darcy and going to visit her sister Jane.

But it was not to be: Meryton it was. After a look at the milliner's – for Charlotte was set on a hat – the friends stopped at Lady Lucas's, to take a dish of tea.

‘We have all missed you here, dear Mrs Darcy,' said Charlotte's mother, as she offered them seats by a hospitable fire. ‘But we know your position at Pemberley is such that you cannot easily be spared.'

Elizabeth coloured and said nothing; Charlotte stared intently into the fire.

‘I received a letter from your dear Mama only yesterday,' continued Lady Lucas. ‘She did not know you intended to visit Longbourn, I suppose?'

Elizabeth said it was indeed true that Mrs Bennet had left Pemberley before she had decided to come south.

‘And you did not think to tell her!' said Lady Lucas. ‘Well, married daughters must keep themselves to themselves – I am fortunate that Charlotte still confides in me as if there had never been a marriage with Mr Collins!'

I am not surprised, thought Elizabeth. To confide in Mr Collins would be quite unthinkable.

‘At least she will be most pleasantly surprised, when she comes to Meryton Lodge, to find you so near,' said Lady Lucas.

‘Does she come soon?' said Elizabeth, who tried to hide her alarm.

‘Indeed she must be on her way,' cried Lady Lucas, ‘for she brings news of such a happy development. I am sure you know it, dear Mrs Darcy, but Mrs Bennet has sworn me to secrecy.'

At this moment Sir William Lucas came in. He was followed by Mrs Long, who had seen Elizabeth in the street with Charlotte and could contain herself no further.

Sir William Lucas greeted Elizabeth by bowing low, and remarking that he had lately been at court and seen Mr Darcy there.

Elizabeth could think of nothing to reply to this, so she said nothing. Sir William talked of the court of St James's so frequently, she wondered if he would not haunt it after he was dead. This state, she was sorry to admit, she sincerely wished him in as he continued with his well-worn pleasantries; and, in order to calm the feelings that were stirred up in her by mention of Mr Darcy, she pleaded a headache and said she would like to go back to the house and lie down.

‘My dear Lizzy,' said Charlotte, full of concern, ‘you do look rather pale. We will get Papa's carriage to take us back – it is too far to walk.'

Elizabeth was about to demur when Mrs Long asked – with a certain slyness – how Mrs Bennet had enjoyed her seasonal visit to Pemberley. ‘I believe she expected a visit from a cousin of yours, Mrs Darcy – a cousin of both of yours, I should say. She was most intrigued to meet him – I wonder if he came!'

‘Oh, he did,' cried Lady Lucas. ‘I have it here in Mrs Bennet's letter. A Colonel Kitchiner! I always did imagine that a woman so good-looking and agreeable as Mrs Bennet would find a husband when she had not been widowed long.'

Here Lady Lucas stopped, on seeing Elizabeth, and recalled her affection for her late father; and it became clear to her also that
Mrs Darcy had actually been present when Mrs Bennet's new suitor had appeared at Pemberley.

‘So, how is this Colonel Kitchiner?' said Lady Lucas. ‘If I may be so bold as to ask you, Mrs Darcy?'

Elizabeth was provoked by the ill-breeding shown in this manner of question, and rose abruptly.

‘Mrs Darcy, do not leave,' said Mrs Long. ‘I have the temerity to ask if your mother Mrs Bennet handed to you a small token made for you as a Christmas offering.'

Elizabeth said she regretted she had no recollection at all of being handed anything that came from Mrs Long.

‘Oh, it was merely a trifle,' said Mrs Long, who eyed Elizabeth sharply and decided against continuing with this line of conversation. ‘Something small – I made it according to a pattern that came down from my mother-in-law' – she could nevertheless not prevent herself from running on: ‘Charlotte, it will do perfectly for you!'

‘I cannot think what it can be,' said Charlotte smiling.

‘For the baby,' said Lady Lucas, ‘was it not, Mrs Long? I recollect you making a perfect little smock and giving it to Mrs Bennet.'

Here Lady Lucas and Mrs Long did not look into each other's eyes and a silence fell. Shortly after, Mrs Long took her leave.