by Jane Austen
Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment, before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly afterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address most truly the gentleman. Mr Darcy looked just as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire—paid his compliments, with his usual reserve, to Mrs Collins, and whatever might be his feelings towards her friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth merely curtseyed to him without saying a word. She tried to ascertain his response to seeing her again, but his features remained for the most part guarded, his eyes, which were usually so expressive, remained closed off to emotion and he kept them constantly away from her gaze. Elizabeth could only deduce that he was truly regretful of what had passed between them and anxious that he should not give her the wrong impression of his level of interest in her.
Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly, but his cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and garden to Mrs Collins, sat for some time without speaking to anybody. At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to enquire of Elizabeth after the health of her family.
She answered him in the usual way, and after a moment’s pause, added, “My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never happened to see her there?”
She was perfectly sensible that he never had, but she wished to see whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between the Bingleys and Jane, and she thought he looked a little confused as he answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The subject was pursued no further, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went away. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief when they departed and deemed the unusually warm temperature in the house responsible for the heat that suffused her cheeks. The tingling sensation in an altogether different part of her body she was sure she could not account for.
Chapter Thirty-One
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s manners were very much admired at the Parsonage, and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasures of their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, before they received any invitation thither—for while there were visitors in the house, they could not be necessary. It was not till Easter-day, almost a week after the gentlemen’s arrival, that they were honoured by such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little of Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called at the Parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr Darcy they had seen only at church. Elizabeth hoped his absence was not on her account, though she could understand verily if that turned out to be the case.
The invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they joined the party in Lady Catherine’s drawing-room. Her ladyship received them civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so acceptable as when she could get nobody else. She was, in fact, almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy, much more than to any other person in the room. Elizabeth scarcely minded the deprivation of Lady Catherine’s attention, as everything the woman had to say to her was a condemnation of one form or another. Far from objecting, she was grateful for Lady Catherine’s exchanges with Darcy, as they allowed Elizabeth to observe him more closely without drawing attention upon herself.
Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see them. Anything was a welcome relief to him at Rosings, and Mrs Collins’s pretty friend had moreover caught his fancy very much. He now seated himself by her, and talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying at home, of new books and music, that Elizabeth had never been half so well entertained in that room before. They conversed with so much spirit and flow, as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine herself, as well as of Mr Darcy. His eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned towards them with a look of curiosity, and that her ladyship, after a while, shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not scruple to call out, “What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is.”
“We are speaking of music, madam,” said he, when no longer able to avoid a reply.
“Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?”
Mr Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister’s proficiency, but even when he addressed Lady Catherine directly, his gaze constantly flickered to Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam, and on each occasion a frown creased his brow as though he were deeply troubled by what he saw. Elizabeth determined it to be because he was annoyed by her presence, but she allowed herself a brief moment of vanity and considered it was because he was envious of their easy conversation and good humour.
“I am very glad to hear such a good account of her,” said Lady Catherine, “and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel if she does not practice a good deal.”
“I assure you, madam,” he replied, “that she does not need such advice. She practises very constantly.”
“So much the better. It cannot be done too much, and when I next write to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often tell young ladies that no excellence in music is to be acquired without constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that she will never play really well unless she practises more, and though Mrs Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often told her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the pianoforte in Mrs Jenkinson’s room. She would be in nobody’s way, you know, in that part of the house.”
Mr Darcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt’s ill-breeding, and made no answer.
When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of having promised to play to him, and she sat down directly to the instrument. He drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then talked, as before, to her other nephew, till the latter walked away from her, and making with his usual deliberation towards the pianoforte stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer’s countenance. Elizabeth saw what he was doing, and at the first convenient pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said, “You mean to frighten me, Mr Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”
“I shall not say you are mistaken,” he replied, “because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you, and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own.”
Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to Colonel Fitzwilliam, “Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky in meeting with a person so able to expose my real character, in a part of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit. Indeed, Mr Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire—and, give me leave to say, very impolitic too—for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out as will shock your relations to hear.”
They met one another’s eyes and Elizabeth was quite certain that Mr Darcy was recalling their tryst in his bedchamber at Netherfield and the kiss some days before it, for the occa
sions were in the forefront of her mind also.
“I am not afraid of you,” said he, smilingly.
“Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of,” cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. “I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.”
“You shall hear then—but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was at a ball—and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce, and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr Darcy, you cannot deny the fact.”
“I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party.”
“True, and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball-room. Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders.”
“Perhaps,” said Darcy, “I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction, but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.”
“Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?” said Elizabeth, still addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers?”
“I can answer your question,” said Fitzwilliam, “without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble.”
“I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,” said Darcy, “of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”
“My fingers,” said Elizabeth, “do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women’s do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault—because I will not take the trouble of practicing. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman’s of superior execution.”
Darcy smiled and said, “You are perfectly right. You have employed your time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you can think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers.”
Here they were interrupted by Lady Catherine, who called out to know what they were talking of. Elizabeth immediately began playing again. Lady Catherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, said to Darcy, “Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss if she practiced more, and could have the advantage of a London master. She has a very good notion of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne’s. Anne would have been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn.”
Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his cousin’s praise, but neither at that moment nor at any other could she discern any symptom of love, and from the whole of his behaviour to Miss de Bourgh she derived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that he might have been just as likely to marry her, had she been his relation.
Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Elizabeth’s performance, mixing with them many instructions on execution and taste. Elizabeth received them with all the forbearance of civility, and, at the request of the gentlemen, remained at the instrument till her ladyship’s carriage was ready to take them all home.
Though they had not a single moment alone together at Lady Catherine’s, Mr Darcy stayed in Elizabeth’s company until her departure. His conversation was polite and his manner infinitely more pleasing than it had been on their last encounter. Privately, Elizabeth cursed his turnaround in behaviour, because it was easier to speak ill of someone with a harsh and hostile disposition. His closeness, instead of provoking feelings of ire, had the opposite effect. Elizabeth found herself quite charmed by him, and when she retired that evening to her chamber, her thoughts of him were of a positively carnal nature. They started with his kiss, which she knew from experience was very agreeable. Her recollections of his hands gliding up her thigh caused her breathing to quicken. And as she imagined him removing her clothing, her mind conjured the image of him lying on top of her, holding her hands in one of his own so that she was unable to move, and entering her with a force and passion he was undoubtedly capable of.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Elizabeth was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane while Mrs Collins and Maria were gone on business into the village, when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a visitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to be Lady Catherine, and under that apprehension was putting away her half-finished letter that she might escape all impertinent questions, when the door opened, and, to her very great surprise, Mr Darcy, and Mr Darcy only, entered the room. He looked more handsome than ever and Elizabeth blushed when she remembered the clandestine thoughts she had indulged in the previous night.
He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologised for his intrusion by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies were to be within. It was the first time they had been alone together since Netherfield and Elizabeth wondered if Darcy would make mention of it. She thought she could bear anything but his admission of regret.
They then sat down, and when her enquiries after Rosings were made, seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. Though he tried to disguise it, Mr Darcy appeared as uncomfortable with the situation as Elizabeth. While she observed him she imagined his hands, roaming over her body, caressing her with firm strokes, and she quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks suffuse with heat. It was absolutely necessary, therefore, to think of something, and in this emergence recollecting when she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and feeling curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty departure, she observed, “How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr Darcy! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr Bingley to see you all after him so soon, for, if I recollect right, he went but the day before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?”
“Perfectly so, I thank you.”
She found that she was to receive no other answer, and, after a short pause added, “I think I have understood that Mr Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?”
“I have never heard him say so, but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in the future. He has many friends, and is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing.”
“If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep it or quit it on the same principle.”
“I should not be surprised,” said Darcy, “if he were to give it up as soon as any eligible purchase offers.”
Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his friend, and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the trouble of finding a subject to him.
He took the hint, and soon began with, “This seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr Collins first came to Hunsford.”
“I believe she did—and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object.”
“Mr Collins appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a wife.”
“Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding—though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a prudential light it is certainly a very good match for her.”
“It must be very agreeable for her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends.”
“An easy distan
ce, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles.”
“And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day’s journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance.”
“I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match,” cried Elizabeth. “I should never have said Mrs Collins was settled near her family.”
“It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.”
As he spoke there was a sort of smile which Elizabeth fancied she understood. He must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and Netherfield, and she blushed as she answered, “I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expenses of travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here. Mr and Mrs Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow of frequent journeys—and I am persuaded my friend would not call herself near her family under less than half the present distance.”
Mr Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, “You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn.”
“I…”
Darcy cut off Elizabeth’s words. “Do you think we ought to discuss our last encounter at Netherfield?”
Elizabeth was at a loss, and hoping Darcy would abandon the subject and save them both the embarrassment, said, “I am not quite sure I understand your meaning.”
“You understand perfectly well.” There was fire in his eyes when she next met his gaze, and, drawing his chair closer, he took Elizabeth’s hand in his. “Do you mean to tell me you did not enjoy what I did to you? For all the world it appeared as though you did. Tell me, have you thought about it often? Have you desired it to happen again?”
