Old Friends and New Fancies (6 page)

Colonel Fitzwilliam hesitated, and said he had not thought of going home just yet; but Mary interrupted him by saying: "Pray don't let us keep you, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I am sure our coach will be there now, if you would kindly inquire. Colonel Fitzwilliam was so kind as to wish to put us into our coach," she added to Elizabeth, "but it would not be worth while, just for that, to prevent him from driving home with you and Mr. Darcy."
"I will go and see, certainly," said the Colonel, moving off; "but don't wait for me, Elizabeth. I would just as soon walk back, and I will see you and Darcy at breakfast."
Darcy drew his wife's arm within his, and they made their way to Lady Catherine, who was sitting very upright in an armchair and wearing her most stern and forbidding expression. To Elizabeth's civilly-worded thanks for all the kindness and pleasure which their aunt had bestowed on her relatives during their stay, she made no reply; but when Elizabeth referred to their departure on the morrow, she started, placed her hand coldly within her niece's for a moment, and said: "Yes, you are going, I recollect. You did not consult me in the matter, but still, perhaps this year it is as well you are not staying longer."
Elizabeth was too well accustomed to her aunt's insolent speeches to seek to account for them, and turned away; while Darcy, remarking, "Yes, we have stayed as long as we care to for this year," also shook hands with his aunt, cutting her rather short in the midst of a statement that she could send no message to Georgiana, and without further delay escorted his wife downstairs.
Mary Crawford watched them from the room, and then said to Mrs. Grant: "Let us go and say good-night also, Frances. We may as well be ready--and there will be the harp to be carried down."
"Very well, my dear," returned her sister. "We shall have to take our turn, for everyone else seems to be preparing to leave at once."
They approached Lady Catherine, and when after a few minutes they reached her side, to their surprise she addressed them in a more stiff and stately manner than usual. "Ah! Miss Crawford! I was awaiting you. Will you kindly come this way?" And she preceded them towards a small library, where cardtables had been placed, but which was now deserted.
Mary was not the least apprehensive of harm, and even whispered mischievously to her sister: "Perhaps she is going to present me with a fee!" so that her astonishment was unbounded when Lady Catherine, having closed the door, turned to her and exclaimed in a voice shrill with anger, which she did not attempt to control: "As this is probably the last time we shall meet, Miss Crawford, you will allow me to inform you that I have been entirely under a misapprehension in inviting you to my house, and that I very much regret having done so." The two sisters gazed at her, both silent from surprise, and Lady Catherine made haste to continue: "I see you are on the point of asking me what reason I have for coming to this conclusion. I do not care to enter into particulars; it must be sufficient for you that facts have come to my knowledge--facts which, if you search your memory, will no doubt--"
Mary had by now found words, and she broke into Lady Catherine's speech in a voice that distress and wounded dignity caused to tremble: "I was not on the point of asking you why you propose to forbid me your house. In that matter my decision had anticipated your wishes. But I have a right to ask the meaning of this insult; even your ladyship will hardly refuse to inform me of what and by whom I am accused."
Lady Catherine drew herself up still further, and said: "I repeat that I do not care to enter into particulars. I have no wish to say anything that may be injurious to you in your future life. The facts which have come to my knowledge are facts which you must be well aware are damaging to yourself and any member of your family--only in a lesser degree to you, Mrs. Grant. I shall repeat them to no one. I only wish you to understand our acquaintance is henceforth at an end."
Mary scarcely heard the last words; she had turned to her sister, who seemed quite overwhelmed and could only say, almost indistinguishably: "That dreadful Mr. Yates! I feared--I feared--"
"Frances, dear Frances, do not give way, I implore you. Do not let her make you unhappy. What does it matter about Mr. Yates? The truth cannot harm either of us." Then, confronting Lady Catherine once more, with head proudly thrown back, she demanded: "Now, madam, in justice to my sister, if not to me, will you kindly state what Mr. Yates has told you?"
Lady Catherine, who had expected a shamefaced attitude, was unprepared for this counter-attack, and replied after some hesitation: "It is evident that you know Mr. Yates has something to tell."
"Certainly, we know exactly what Mr. Yates knows," retorted Mary with spirit, "but what he may have told your ladyship is quite another matter. Will you tell us, or are you disposed to wait for the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy? A message from us would cause them to postpone their journey to-morrow."
The taunt was a well-judged one; Lady Catherine felt its truth, and anxious not to involve herself more deeply, she exclaimed: "Mr. Yates has not spoken on the subject to me; it is sufficient for me that he has told others, upon whom I can rely, the whole story of your brother's disgraced connection with that married woman, with whose dishonoured name I will not sully my lips--is that the true, or is it not? You say the truth can do you no harm."
"The fact is true," replied Mary, who had grown very white.
"Oh, Mary, Mary!" exclaimed Mrs. Grant, "let us come away now that we know the worst."
"No," answered Mary, who was retaining her calmness by a great effort, "we will not deprive Lady Catherine of the pleasure of telling all she has heard."
"And you express no contrition, you shameless, you badhearted girl?" broke out Lady Catherine, giving rein to her anger. "You think it can do you no harm to have all known of that shocking affair, which alone should make you shun the society of respectable persons, but beyond and above all that, there are your own intrigues with the two brothers of that wretched woman, one of whom you enticed away from the girl to whom he was attached, and your own flirtations here, which I will not enter into, but which I have watched taking place under my very eyes--"
"That will do, I think," said Mary, raising her hand. "You can have nothing further to say. You have insulted us in every possible manner. I only hope, Lady Catherine, that by this outrage you will consider yourself to have taken ample revenge."
"How dare you speak so to my poor sister?" demanded Mrs. Grant, wrath at last overmastering her distress. "If you only knew the real truth of the matter--if you only knew who had suffered and who was to be blamed!--God forgive you your wicked thoughts and your poisonous tongue!"
"Hush, hush, Frances!" interposed Mary, drawing her sister away. "Do not try to convince her. She is not worth it," and the two sisters left the room and walked with fairly firm steps downstairs, where they procured their cloaks, and Mrs. Grant was able, by drawing down her hood, to conceal the traces of her emotion. Mary directed a servant to bring her instrument downstairs, and they awaited it within the cloak-room. A few minutes later the servant knocked at the door, asking for Miss Crawford, and both ladies hastened forward, expecting the announcement of their coach, but Mary drew back on encountering the pale and anxious gaze of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and hearing his eager words: "I feared I had missed you--that you had gone--I searched for you through the rooms--and then I heard you were with my aunt. Is anything the matter, dear Miss Crawford? I fear there something."
"It is of no consequence, thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam," she replied, speaking with cold pride. "You are come a little too late to be of any assistance. I see the footman has brought my harp, so if you will kindly allow us to leave the house, that is the most you can do."
"I implore you not to speak so, dearest Miss Crawford," he exclaimed, though keeping his voice low on account of the persons standing round. "Is there nothing I can do, nothing I can put right? I could, I am sure, if only I knew what had happened."
Lady Catherine can best inform you of that," returned Mary in icy tones. "May I again request that you will ask for our carriage?"
"One moment only, and I will not detain you," he said hurriedly. "May I call on you to-morrow, at an early hour? Pray give me permission."
"I shall not be at home to-morrow," answered Mary, and swept proudly past him towards the front door, where a footman had just announced: "Mrs. Grant's carriage stops the way."
"Mrs. Grant!" exclaimed Colonel Fitzwilliam, placing himself beside that lady as she followed her sister, "you will allow me to come and see you? I will not torment your sister, but--you will not close your door on me without at least explaining the reason for this dreadful change?"
"Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam!" exclaimed Mrs. Grant, with difficulty controlling her agitation, "if you knew all, you would not expect me to receive you; but I cannot altogether refuse, only I must have time to reflect, to consider--and my sister must be my first care."
He could only bow and acquiesce; and he assisted her into the carriage, which immediately rolled away.

MR. AND MRS. DARCY were dismayed at the haggard aspect of their cousin when he joined them at breakfast the next morning. He looked like a man who had not slept, and whose wakefulness had some distressing cause. To their inquiries he replied by giving as brief and quiet an account as he could of the incident of the preceding evening. Elizabeth exclaimed with consternation when he described Miss Crawford's manner to him at the door, but refrained from making any comment until he had related how he had gone in search of his aunt, to obtain, if possible, an explanation from her. He had had to wait some time, until all but one or two of the guests had gone and he could be alone with her, but she had been most difficult to talk to on the subject; when reproached with her treatment of Miss Crawford and Mrs. Grant, she had admitted that perhaps she did speak rather severely to Miss Crawford, but the latter's attitude had annoyed her; that everything she had said was fully justified, and she was perfectly convinced that Miss Crawford was a most undesirable person, and one she should never have had in her house. "Good heavens! can such things be said without impunity?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam replied that he hoped he had controlled his temper, but it had been no easy matter. His aunt would not even substitute her charges, and only referred to the shocking conduct of Miss Crawford and her brother towards a family called Bertram, adding that though this information had only just come to her ears, she believed that in London it was common property. Needless to say, her nephew's assurances that whatever the brother might have done Miss Crawford herself was absolutely innocent of any wrongdoing whatever, had not the slightest effect. Neither was she able to perceive that upon no basis but a shred of vulgar gossip she had done a vile thing in attacking and defaming two guests under her own roof.

"That made her more enraged than ever," continued Colonel Fitzwilliam; "she said it was not vulgar gossip, but a well-founded fact; and though she evidently was under a promise not to reveal the source of her knowledge, the word Ferrars slipped out once, so I was assured of what in fact I had guessed before, namely, to whom we owe this whole abominable affair."

"It is most deplorable," said Darcy gravely. "We can never regret it enough. I am sorry for you, Fitzwilliam, and still more sorry for Mrs. Grant and her sister, but I do not see that there is anything to be done, beyond apologies from all who are in any way connected with my aunt. It must be talked of as little as possible, for Miss Crawford's sake. The Ferrars will do their mischievous part; and it must be the duty of her friends to take it for granted and ignore it; there is a modicum of truth in the story, I suppose?"

Fitzwilliam, but Elizabeth interposed eagerly: "I can tell you all there is to know. I heard the story, if you can call it so, from Anne Wentworth only the other day: but I did not mention it again, for there is no use in reviving these things. It is true that Miss Crawford's brother ran away with Mrs. Rushworth, who had been Miss Bertram. He had treated her very badly before her marriage, gaining her affections and then showing her he did not intend to marry her. Mary Crawford had been on terms of friendship with the whole family, and one of the brothers, a young Bertram, had paid her attention. Naturally, the scandal of the divorce separated the two families; and I suppose ill-natured people can find some reason why Mary should be blamed for it, but I know of none."

"How came Mrs. Wentworth to be acquainted with these events?" asked Darcy. Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed to pay little heed; he rose from the table, leaving his untasted breakfast.

"Because they have a great friend, a naval officer, young Lieutenant Price, who is also connected with the Bertrams; his sister married one of the sons. In fact, she was adopted by the family as a child, and would naturally know all its affairs. I suppose the Ferrars got their information from that Mr. Yates who was there last night; I do not know anything about him, but I will ask Anne Wentworth."

"You know my advice, which is, as little said as possible," was Darcy's reply; and he crossed to the window, to lay his hand on his cousin's shoulder, and say warmly: "Do not take it too much to heart, my dear fellow. On reflection, Miss Crawford, when she is a little less upset, will see that you are not to blame, and Mrs. Grant, who is evidently a sensible woman, will take the right line when she has had time to think things over."

"I wish we could stay another day or two, to do some good in this miserable business," exclaimed Elizabeth. "We might even now put off starting."

"No, Elizabeth, we could hardly do that, and it would not be advisable," said Darcy, with decision. "None of us could make my aunt's peace with these ladies; and if we have to make our own, as well as Robert his, we can do it better by letter. By the way, Robert, how do you stand with my aunt?"

"We parted in anger, I fear," replied Fitzwilliam; "it was inevitable, after the argument we had had. It is immaterial to me; she knows now that I am an advocate for Miss Crawford, and she will consequently not expect to see me again."

"In spite of what you say, Darcy, I do think we might do some good," Elizabeth interrupted. "Let us countermand the carriage. We can easily tell the landlord we wish to keep these rooms till Monday."

Fitzwilliam begged his cousins not to put themselves to such an inconvenience on his account; and Darcy being also unwilling to change his plans at the moment when the carriages were driving to the door Elizabeth was obliged to give up the idea, which she did with greater reluctance through feeling that had she not persuaded Miss Crawford to go to Lady Catherine's reception, this disaster would not have occurred. Revolving in her mind plans for the future, when all the parties concerned should be removed from the influences at work in Bath, she continued her preparations for departure; and when all was ready, and the luggage placed on the vehicles, she walked downstairs with Colonel Fitzwilliam, speaking words of consolation and encouragement to him, promising to write to Miss Crawford from their first stopping-place, and urging him to wait patiently and not be deterred by Mary's being reluctant to see him again for some time after her very painful experience. He promised not to give up hope, but feared that this might cause him to lose the ground he had gained.

"You are very good, Elizabeth," he said, as they shook hands. "Whatever happiness comes out of this I shall owe to you. But it is beyond what I can expect. There never was much reason why she should look at me, and now, if she connects me with this wretched affair, there is less than ever."

Elizabeth once more earnestly begged him to take a more cheerful view, and immediately afterwards she and Darcy started their long journey northwards; and their cousin, having exchanged a few words with James Morland, who had walked round to the hotel a few moments earlier to take leave of his friends, returned to his own rooms and to the thought of Mary Crawford, which, indeed, was never absent from him. His eagerness to be with her once more was only exceeded by his desire to protect her fair name against the danger which threatened it; and in spite of Darcy's advice he came to the conclusion, after long thought, that he was justified in going first to the Ferrars's and then, if necessary, to Mr. Yates, to demand that whoever was responsible for the calumny should retract it. He did not wish to pose as Mary's champion until she had given him the right to take a warmer interest in her than he might yet assert; but as he could not in any case have failed to be aware of the insult last night, and as he was at the same time Miss Crawford's friend and Lady Catherine's nephew, he felt that he could do no less than endeavour to right the wrong himself, having been unsuccessful in an appeal to his aunt, which seemed the most direct.

He accordingly repaired at once to the Ferrars's lodgings, the address of which had been given to him by Anne Steele on one of the many occasions on which she had begged him to call there--a request hitherto ignored; and as soon as he was shown into the room he perceived that his two errands would be accomplished in one, as Mr. Yates was sitting with the Ferrars and Miss Steele. Fitzwilliam would neither shake hands nor take the offered seat, and addressing himself to Ferrars and Mr. Yates, he requested, in a tone as calm and deliberate as he could make it, that they would immediately and unreservedly withdraw all the accusations they had brought against Miss Crawford, and would furthermore go to Lady Catherine and make to her the same complete denial of their previous statements. He was careful to utter Miss Crawford's name as seldom as possible, and refrained from demanding an apology to be made to her personally, as he felt the greatest delicacy about appearing to act on her behalf, and could judge also that it was not the unkind talk, but the insult from her hostess, that had given her such deep offence. He found his present task an easier one than he had expected; and had his heart been lighter, he could have derived amusement from witnessing the kind of turmoil which his words immediately created amongst his hearers. Neither Robert Ferrars nor Mr. Yates was of a quarrelsome disposition; they were alike in living only for trifles, and in being of an idle, careless, gossiping nature, tolerably good-humoured when it did not interfere with their pleasure or comfort. At that moment the matter of greatest importance to them was to set themselves right with this extremely distinguished gentleman, who came to them with an air of such authority; and they hastened with the utmost zeal to assure and protest, to deny, regret or explain away whatever might have happened to annoy any friend of his.

Robert Ferrars, who, beyond listening eagerly to the story, had had nothing to do with the affair, was not long in discovering that his wife and her sister were really responsible for the mischief; and both he and Mr. Yates bitterly reproached the ladies for having broken their promise and carried Mr. Yates's information to Lady Catherine. Anne Steele's composure was not proof against this attack, especially in the presence of her admired Colonel Fitzwilliam, and she found a burst of tears the most convenient resource, but Lucy defended herself with spirit, and declared that she had only told Lady Catherine what it was right for her to know, as certainly her ladyship would not wish to receive Miss Crawford if half of what Mr. Yates had said was true. This produced a renewed flood of eloquence from Mr. Yates, who denied in the handsomest manner having said anything to Miss Crawford's disadvantage, and wound up by boldly asserting that she was a lady for whom he had the greatest respect; that she could not help the faults of her brother, and that as for Edmund Bertram, everyone considered that it was
he
who had treated her badly, "hanging round her always and never making her an offer--we none of us knew what he could be at."

Colonel Fitzwilliam intimated that he did not wish to know any of these particulars; that he was come simply because he had learnt that Lady Catherine, in consequence of what she had heard, had been led to treat her guests with great injustice-- injustice was the strongest word he would allow himself to use-- and that, for everyone's sake, it was highly necessary for her mind to be disabused of all false impressions. Mr. Yates, when it was made clear to him, professed himself perfectly ready to go to Lady Catherine and give her what he termed the true facts, and he heartily supported Colonel Fitzwilliam in the latter's request that Mr. Ferrars should accompany him. Mr. Ferrars looked from his friend to his wife, extremely ruffled and uncomfortable; Lucy was reduced to such a state of anger that she could scarcely speak; but Mr. Yates speedily recovered his usual state of easy
insouciance
and volubility, and was the only one of the party able to walk with Colonel Fitzwilliam to the door and usher him out with many bows and smiles and promises to wait on him in the course of a day or two to tell him the result of his forthcoming interview. Mr. Yates was not a man who could long be disconcerted by anything; and he probably looked forward to his scene with Lady Catherine as one in which he could play a leading part.

Colonel Fitzwilliam walked away, smiling for a moment at the thought of the storm of mutual recrimination that was going on in the room he had just left; he feared that what he had achieved would be of little use, for his aunt would be much more desirous of believing the first version than the second. Everything depended now upon the effect of his own influence upon Mary and her sister--upon whether he could succeed in atoning to them to any extent for what they had suffered. He greatly distrusted his own powers, and walked to their house in the deepest dejection of spirits.

The servant said the ladies were at home, and he waited for some time in the drawing-room. Mrs. Grant's countenance, when at last she appeared, was not such as to reassure him. She did not ask him to sit down, and remained herself standing at a little distance while she explained, briefly and formally, that her sister was not at all well, and was unable to receive visitors. Colonel Fitzwilliam's heart sank at this confirmation of his worst fears. He hastened to reply that he knew he could not have expected her to be willing to see any member of his family after what had happened the night before, but that he brought the sincerest, most heartfelt apologies on his own behalf and that of his cousins. He was only too sensible that nothing he could say could obliterate the memory of the treatment to which Mrs. Grant and her sister had been subjected, but he had been endeavouring to right the wrong, and hoped that "when Lady Catherine should be brought to acknowledge--"

Mrs. Grant here interrupted him. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, I must tell you plainly that it is not of the slightest use to mention that lady's name to my sister or myself. I know you mean very kindly, but the harm is done now, and nothing Lady Catherine can do or say can repair it. I do not wish to go into the whole matter, it is too unspeakably painful; but if you had been aware of the language she used towards us, you would see that it is not a thing which can ever be forgotten--I had almost said forgiven."