Old Friends and New Fancies (34 page)

ABOUT FIVE WEEKS AFTER he had posted his letter to Mrs. Wentworth, William Price was walking along Wigmore Street, on his way to the Yates's house in Cavendish Square. It was a cold, foggy evening in March, and the murky gloom of the wet streets, which the oil lamps at intervals rather emphasized than relieved, seemed to William to be a fit surrounding for anyone in his dreary frame of mind. He could not wish the letter unwritten; it was better not to see Georgiana as long as there was the barrier between them raised by what she had told him in November, that she had never thought of caring for him, believing that he returned Kitty's affection. And yet it was too hard a task not to wish to see her again, since he was leaving England the following day on a voyage which would last for many months. He had no longer any fear of his cousin's rivalry, for during his last visit to Mansfield Tom Bertram had replied, with great coolness, when anxiously interrogated, that on the occasion of his going to Pemberley with the news of Colonel Fitzwilliam's accident, he had come to the conclusion that he and Miss Darcy would not suit. But even if by some dispensation of Providence she had not married anyone else in the course of a year, how could the situation be sufficiently elucidated to set William free ever to address her again?

During the three months that had elapsed since the Pemberley ball his simple and straightforward nature had wrestled with the most difficult problem he had ever been called upon to face. The great events of his life--the various steps in his career, his sister's marriage, his father's death, and the providing for the family, had all come in the natural order of things, and for him the right line of conduct, as of feeling, had been at the same time the obvious one. And so he had supposed it would be when it came to affairs of the heart. If a man fell in love, he would try to win the affection of the woman he had chosen, and ask her to marry him; and if she did not care for him enough, he must either give it up, or wait awhile before making another effort. But to be refused, because another woman happened to have fallen in love with him! William had accepted his dismissal at the time in sheer bewilderment; but the more he thought it over, the more inadequate the reason seemed for separating him and Georgiana. She had not absolutely said that it was impossible to care for him; she had only refused to listen to him or talk of it, which was only natural if she thought him in honour bound to Kitty; but William's conscience was perfectly clear towards Kitty, and he tormented himself incessantly with the thought of all that he might have done towards gaining Georgiana's affection, during the weeks that they were together, had it not been for this wretched misunderstanding. She had taken it all as intended for Kitty; why had they not seen the truth? Kitty might have seen, everyone might have seen, everyone was deserving of blame, except Georgiana. One moment William was marvelling that anyone could have misunderstood what to him was the simplest, most natural thing in the world, and the next had dropped back with despair into the thought: "She might have cared, if she had only known. And now she will not even have forgiven me for making Miss Kitty unhappy, and I have no chance of setting that right."

"It is just like a ship that has run aground on a sandbank in the fog," mused William. "You can't do anything until it has cleared--at least, I can't. If she had refused me out and out, I would have gone down to Winchester and had another good try--a fellow who has only three months on shore to every nine at sea deserves that, I think--but I can't face her again as long as I can imagine her saying to herself, 'What about my poor Kitty?' Oh, what a blind fool I was, and how I wasted those ten days!"

He was so deep in thought that in crossing a side street he almost ran into a gentleman who was going towards Portman Square. Recognition followed on the mutual apologies, and Mr. Knightley exclaimed: "Why, William! I am glad to see you again--if it can be called seeing in this atmosphere; I thought you were gone."

"No, sir, but I sail to-morrow from Portsmouth: the
Medusa,
you know. They altered our destination at the last minute."
"And what is it to be?"
"Nova Scotia first, sir; we are taking out a draft to increase the garrison there."
"Lucky fellow that you are; you will have seen the whole world in a year or two. I'm afraid it sounds like a long absence this time, but you never mind that, do you?"
"Well, sir--" William hesitated, then looked up with a frank smile--"it won't be any good, but for once in a way I wish I could get to a home station for a bit."
Mr. Knightley waited, but perceiving that he was not to hear any more, said kindly: "Unless you are in a great hurry, come in and say good-bye to Mrs. Knightley; she would be sorry to miss you, especially as you are so near."
William readily turned back, for apart from the kindness of the Knightleys, their house had a special attraction for him; and when a few minutes later they entered the drawing-room, his thoughts flew back to the moment when he had first seen Georgiana: she had been standing by that very chair, that velvet screen had been the background to the lovely figure in the white ball-dress. It was necessary to put such thoughts as these resolutely away, and give his attention to Mrs. Knightley, whom they found alone, reading some letters which had just arrived by the country post. She greeted William cordially, without any surprise at seeing him still in England; it was always a little difficult for Emma to realize that people had important affairs of their own; and that they should have had any existence apart from that which she had chosen to imagine for them constituted the surprise. Therefore she looked earnestly and inquiringly at William as he sat down, and made so long a pause that he began to wonder what he was expected to say, until Mr. Knightley came in from the hall, where he had been ordering the servant to bring in lamps, and explained the circumstances of William's call. It was then Emma's turn to be astonished: "Going to sea, again Captain Price? That is indeed a sad thing; I thought you were going to settle in England for a time; your friends have seen nothing of you."
"There's no such thing as settling in England for a sailor, Mrs. Knightley," returned William, trying to speak cheerily; "at least, not at twenty-four. And I have been home for a long time now; the North Sea cruise this winter counts for nothing, you know."
"The North Sea!" repeated Emma, still more overwhelmed. "I thought you were with your mother, or in Derbyshire."
"Oh, no," replied William, in as indifferent a tone as he could. "I have not been to Derbyshire since the middle of November. We were at Copenhagen for three weeks, the rest of the time moving about, and I have just come from spending a week at Mansfield."
Emma was then almost speechless with disappointment. Mr. Knightley, regretful, but amused, drew his chair up to the fire and began asking about William's plans, which were to leave London on the following morning by the twelve o'clock coach, thus allowing ample time to reach Portsmouth and bestow himself and his baggage on board before the ship sailed at seven in the evening. Mr. Knightley inquired what would happen if he arrived too late, but William could hardly picture the consequences of such a breach of discipline. He had never known it to happen; he supposed the culprit would be court-martialled, and probably degraded three years; he imagined that no circumstances could possibly be allowed to extenuate so grievous a crime. Mr. Knightley suggested that a breakdown of the coach or other conveyance might cause inevitable delay, and William's answer to this was that one took the risk of these things in putting off one's return to the very last day of one's leave; some accident, of course, might occur, but in general, those officers who were not obliged to be on board earlier spent every moment of their leave of absence on shore.
"I probably should have gone back yesterday, however," he added, "but the mother of a friend of mine, Cooper, who is on board the
Queen Charlotte
at Southampton, is very ill in London, and he cannot come to see her, so he asked me to call at the house and bring him the latest reports. I was returning from there when I met you this evening. I intended going earlier in the day, but I am glad now that I was prevented from doing so."
"Emma, my dear," said Mr. Knightley, "you are not appreciating our friend's pretty speeches." Emma started, smiled, then tried to rouse herself and say something to William in the nature of cordial good wishes for his voyage, and in moving her chair, the letters she had been reading fell from her knee to the floor. William, as he picked them up, reflected that probably something in their contents was occupying Mrs. Knightley's mind; and he was beginning to think about making his adieux, when Mr. Knightley continued, speaking to his wife: "Have you any interesting news there, as a parting gift for a traveler?"
"No, I think not," replied Emma. "This is from Mrs. Weston, but there is nothing but Highbury gossip in it, which Captain Price would not--and this other one I have not read; I thought it was Harriet's writing. No!" holding it up to a candle, "it is not, after all. It is--well--I can hardly--it looks like--in fact, I believe it is from Kitty Bennet."
"Indeed!" said Mr. Knightley, and added, after a momentary pause: "We have not heard anything of her for a great while."
Emma could not help glancing towards William Price, but her glance told her nothing, for he sat perfectly passive, looking at no one, with perhaps a trifle deeper tinge of colour in his cheeks. The pause threatened to grow embarrassing, so she began to open the letter, hurriedly saying: "Miss Bennet seems still to be in Derbyshire. I should have thought she would have returned home before this."
"You stayed at Pemberley, did you not, William, as well as at Mr. Bingley's?" inquired Mr. Knightley.
"Yes," said William. "Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were so kind as to invite me there with the rest, for their ball. What a beautiful place it is! Even at that time of year one was struck with it."
"And you have not seen any of them since, I conclude, as you have been abroad," proceeded Mr. Knightley.
William was replying in the negative, when stopped by an exclamation from Mrs. Knightley, who was reading the letter with every sign of astonishment. "George!" she cried, "what do you think has happened? You will never guess! It is perfectly amazing! I can hardly believe it myself. Well--!" as she turned over a page, "if she had not told me herself, I could never--was there ever anything so unexpected?"
"We shall know better when you have told us what this astounding news is, my dear," said her husband. "Has Miss Bennett become engaged to be married, by any chance?"
"How could you have guessed it?" exclaimed Mrs. Knightley, dropping the letter to gaze at him. "It is the very last thing I should have thought of. Oh, Captain Price!" remembering her visitor in some confusion. "But I am sure you might know it, as she does not say it is private."
"The reason I guessed it," said Mr. Knightley, smiling, "is because no other intelligence causes quite the same amount of excitement, as you must admit, Emma. May we hear some more particulars, now that we have got over the first shock?" Mr. Knightley was talking partly in order to spare his young friend, thinking it just possible that the news of Kitty's engagement might not be very welcome to the young man.
William, however, was leaning forward with an expression of eager interest, and Mrs. Knightley, looking at her letter, went on: "She is engaged to a Mr. James Morland, the rector of the parish in which Mr. and Mrs. Bingley live. He is quite young--only appointed last year--she met him first when she went down there in June--perfectly charming--the most agreeable man she has ever met--does not disapprove of dancing--Mr. Bingley and her sister so delighted--a lovely old house--so near to dear Jane--exquisitely happy--she is going home directly, and hopes to come to town and see me."
William could contain himself no longer. He sprang up, looked at the clock, took a few quick steps through the room, then, coming back, he abruptly asked: "Is this really true, Mrs. Knightley?"
"Quite true, Captain Price, I am afraid--at least, I mean there can be no doubt of it; in fact, they are going to be married in June, she says. I assure you, I had not the slightest suspicion. I have only heard the gentleman's name once or twice, no more. It is so odd, so inexplicable--"
Mr. Knightley could not forbear smiling at his wife's perplexity, for he perceived that for some reason or other William was in no need of commiseration, and, indeed, could hardly wait for Mrs. Knightley to finish. Holding out his hand, he said: "Pray give Miss Bennet my congratulations, and a thousand good wishes for her happiness. I fear I must not stay longer now, so will say good-bye, Mrs. Knightley, with many thanks for all your kindness--I am indeed grateful for all you have done for me."
"But Captain Price, you are not going already?" exclaimed Emma, now completely bewildered. "Do not, I beg, let me drive you away, we will not talk about anything disagreeable. We were just going to have dinner; it is late to-night on account of Mr. Knightley's having had to go out, and I hoped you would have stayed to dine with us."
Mr. Knightley seconded the invitation, but William unhesitatingly declined. "You are very good, but I must not delay so long. It is only six, and I think I can catch the eight o'clock coach, if I hurry, as my things are nearly packed."
"The eight o'clock coach?" repeated Mr. Knightley, helping his guest into his coat when it became evident that he was determined to go. "I thought you said you were not returning until tomorrow morning."
"Yes, I did, but I find now that I shall have to go to Winchester; I shall just have time; it is the most fortunate thing that could have happened."
"It is not very fortunate for us," said Emma. "But you surely will not attempt to get to Winchester to-night?"
"No, but I shall get as far as Guilford, in all probability. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Knightley, I am shockingly ill-mannered; what must you be thinking of me? Do overlook it just this once; nothing but the most urgent affairs would carry me away from here so much sooner than I had intended."
His smile and winning manner were irresistible, and Emma was obliged to let him go, saying she would expect to hear all about the urgent affairs some day. William seemed to get to the front door in two strides, and was fumbling with the lock before his host could reach him, with offers of refreshment, which he would not stay to accept. Mr. Knightley shook hands with him, saying kindly: "Well, William, I am sorry you had to run away, especially as we shall not see you for so long. Besides, it is really too cruel, after having whetted our curiosity by this mysterious change of plan."
"Oh, sir, I know it is too bad--if I only had a little more time--but it is the sailing to-morrow that is the very mischief-- if you knew, you would understand that my only chance is to go now, as quickly as I can. I will write and tell you how I get on. Please make my apologies to Mrs. Knightley."
"The only thing Mrs. Knightley will not forgive is your having no dinner to-night. Yes, indeed, we shall look forward to hearing. Good-bye, and good luck be with you."
The good luck had begun already, William thought, as he plunged into the streets, which no longer appeared dark and foggy, since the aspect of the whole world had changed to him in the last few minutes. Was it not the most extraordinary stroke of good fortune which had led him to meet Mr. Knightley that evening? He had not intended to call, for he had believed them to be at their house in the country, and he would have heard nothing, and would have passed through Winchester the next day, within a mile of Georgiana, without knowing that he was free! A day later--the horror of it was almost too great to contemplate--would have been too late, too late to speak or write, even if anyone had troubled to send him the information. Mrs. Knightley herself had not suspected that Miss Bennet's engagement was a matter of such stupendous importance to him. William did not trouble to think of what she had suspected, his only idea being to make his way to Georgiana with all speed. He must see her before he sailed--that was the pressing necessity; everything else would right itself. What if he did not find her? If she were ill, or out of the house, or gone home again? Every kind of apprehension sprang up in his mind, to be reasoned away or fought down by vigorous action. His impatience was so great that he hardly knew how he got through the journey, beginning with the hasty drive to the coach office, the finding there was a seat still vacant, booking it, and tramping about till the time of starting; the innumerable frets and delays along the road; the arrival at Guilford, the bespeaking of a post-chaise, and descending before daylight the next morning to claim it; the hurried breakfast at Farnham, and the last interminable twenty miles, until the moment when he drove down the long hill into Winchester and heard the Cathedral clock striking eleven.
Leaving his portmanteaux at the "George," he walked straight to the Wentworths's house, which he knew well from previous visits, and was shown into a room where Captain and Mrs. Wentworth sat together. His early appearance created some surprise and excessive pleasure; they were totally unsuspicious of its real cause, and concluded only that he had reconsidered his refusal. His eager inquiry as to whether Miss Darcy were still with them, and whether he could see her, aroused a momentary fear that he had brought bad news for her, but it speedily became evident that he was on quite a different errand.
"Oho, William, you sly fellow, so it is Miss Darcy you are come to see?" exclaimed Captain Wentworth. "Well, we congratulate you upon your good sense, do we not, Anne? But why in the world did you not come down weeks ago, when you had the chance?"
William avoided answering this, and as his friends still did not understand the urgency of the case, he was obliged again to go through the particulars of the
Medusa,
and Portsmouth, and seven o'clock. Now, indeed, were the precious moments not to be wasted; Anne left the room, but returned directly, saying: "Captain Price, I am very sorry, but I find Miss Darcy has gone out. She talked of wishing to do some errands in the town, but I did not know she had already started. What is to be done?"
William was quite clear that there was only one thing to be done, namely, to go in search of Miss Darcy, and asked which shops she was likely to have visited. Mrs. Wentworth named one or two, and called after him as he was hurrying away, to suggest that if he was not successful in finding her in either, it was possible she might, as the day was so fine, have gone to finish her walk in the grounds of Wolvesey Palace, a favourite spot of hers for a stroll. Armed with information William was gone on the instant.