Pemberley (16 page)

For all the instructions she had given to be woken with news of Jane, Elizabeth's first understanding of her sister's ordeal came from Mrs Bennet.

‘I told Mrs Reynolds to see you were not disturbed,' said she in triumph, ‘for you do seem fatigued, my dear Lizzy, and I am in agreement with Miss Bingley – your looks are going fast – good heavens, when a young woman gives birth so many times, as I fear poor Jane will, she may be counted on to be worn out at thirty but you have not even started yet!'

‘How is Jane?' said Elizabeth, who found herself pinioned by the weight of her mother at the foot of the bed, and unable to move.

‘She has been delivered of a boy!' said Mrs Bennet, producing and then wiping a tear from her eye. ‘And I do not wonder, Lizzy, that you show no sign of doing the same! Is it an accident that Mr Darcy finds himself called away on business? Do you wish for Master Roper to inherit Pemberley, all because you lack the desire to please? What amusement do you make for him here, that will keep him at home and interested in you?'

Elizabeth could not reply that the presence of her mother was likely to have brought about the instant attention to the filling of a parsonage some miles away that had become apparent to Mr Darcy; so she said nothing.

‘You should be a great deal more agreeable,' said Mrs Bennet. ‘Often you do not smile at all – or you tease him in a most impudent manner. I would not be surprised if Mr Darcy stayed away and did not come back in time for the Pemberley ball! For you
will call for reels and the like and pay no respect to the traditions of the occasion – as Lady de Bourgh said only last night, you have not enquired once as to how
she
managed the ball. She does not know what the neighbours will think if it is all over the place, as she knows it will be if left in your hands.'

‘Mama, what nonsense! How can a ball be all over the place, when it will take place in the ballroom at Pemberley?' said Elizabeth, laughing. ‘But I must go to Jane now – I am so happy for her.'

‘It was feared that it would be a breech birth,' said Mrs Bennet with great solemnity. ‘But the infant righted itself at the last moment. Dr Mason said poor Jane would have been in the greatest danger otherwise.'

‘And Charles? He is overjoyed, I have no doubt.'

‘Oh, I think a man will always be glad to have a son, Lizzy. I know your poor father was disappointed five times, and my accouchements were made none the easier for me at the sight of his long face, I can assure you!'

Elizabeth here thought of Mr Bennet, and of the love she and her father had had between them; and she thought with compassion of her mother, also: for had not the marriage of Mr Bennet and Mrs Bennet deteriorated so sadly, and had not Mrs Bennet been the constant target of his wit, she would most certainly have suffered from less vacuous a nature than was now the case.

‘Mrs Reynolds tells me there is news from Matlock,' said Mrs Bennet, as Elizabeth dressed quickly for her visit to her sister. ‘The roads are clearer than was thought, and Mr Darcy comes at any time to spend Christmas with us.'

‘Why did you not tell me before?' cried Elizabeth, who was ashamed to find the old joy at the prospect of seeing Darcy outweighed her happiness at the birth of Jane's child. ‘I was anxious for him,' she added, as Mrs Bennet looked up at her with pursed lips.

‘Then you must show it, dear Lizzy – fly to him now – look, I see him come down through the park. I do hope his horse will not stumble in the snow.'

Elizabeth ran to the window. Mr Darcy did indeed approach, but he was still some distance away, and relief at his safety was soon supplanted by an urgent desire to kiss Jane and compliment her on the birth, before he was at the west entrance to Pemberley.

‘Lizzy, before you go' – and here Mrs Bennet restrained her daughter with a hand flung on to Elizabeth's arm and fastening there – ‘do tell me that you approve my new friend.' Mrs Bennet batted her eyelashes exceedingly as she said this; and Elizabeth, confused with so short a night's sleep, succeeded by joyous news of Jane, and Darcy's return, professed herself unable to capture her mother's meaning.

‘Colonel Kitchiner, my dear Lizzy! You know he asks me to be his wife!'

‘This is not the time,' said Elizabeth distractedly. ‘Surely, Mama, we can speak of it later!'

‘You care so little for the future of Kitty and Mary!' cried Mrs Bennet. ‘Kitty may not find so delightful a husband as George Wickham – if she finds one at all; and I have no hopes whatever for Mary! Do you know she is all the time in the library with young Master Roper reading and talking of books – and I can see no prospect of her meeting anyone who will give her a dance at the ball!'

‘Do not let us think of the ball now, Mama,' said Elizabeth.

‘Colonel Kitchiner wishes to provide for the girls. I would have thought that, as their sister and as mistress of Pemberley, you would ask of Mr Darcy one small kindness – which I know would encourage Colonel Kitchiner to proceed, as I know is his intention, with his proposal of marriage.'

Elizabeth now left the room, her mother hastening after her. ‘Lizzy, there is no need to run! The baby Bingley will not go away!
No – all I ask, my dear daughter, is that you consider the chapel at Pemberley – '

‘The chapel?' said Elizabeth, stopping in her tracks. ‘Whatever do you mean, Mama?'

‘Lady Catherine informed me of the existence of a chapel here, Elizabeth. I did not divulge to her the reason for my enquiry, for I know approval must be obtained first from Mr Darcy – for our nuptials – so that Colonel Kitchiner and I may become man and wife here at Pemberley!'

Elizabeth would have laughed, but for the look on her mother's face. Of course there was no question of this taking place here. Her mirth, suppressed as it was, turned to anger. She knew not how she gained Jane's room, for she ran, with Mrs Bennet calling plaintively after her, and it was only after several minutes that she could rejoice in the quiet glory of her sister, and embrace her, and peer in at the sleeping child.

Mrs Bennet gained the hall, as Elizabeth and Jane smiled and spoke in whispers, and handed each other and Charles Bingley the infant to hold. Little Emily Bingley ran in with a nurse, to meet her brother, and time passed so happily that Mr Darcy had dismounted and walked in the door to Pemberley House before Elizabeth thought to run down the stairs to greet him.

Mrs Bennet was there before her, however. ‘My dear Mr Darcy,' she called out to her son-in-law, ‘there are glad tidings! A son is born at Pemberley!'

The following hour was taken up with talk of the weather. Shortly after Mr Darcy's return, the snow resumed falling, with deeper drifts, and wilder flurries, than before; and the roads impassable, so that the Christmas service at the village church could not be reached by the Pemberley party. The carriage, prepared for the Gardiners and Wickhams, had to go back to the stables. The phaeton would have been of no use at all.

Elizabeth could find no time to be alone with her husband, on account of the diverse plans and cancellation of plans which must take place, in view of the threat of the Gardiner party's being stuck here, perhaps indefinitely. She could see he was in an exceedingly ill humour; but this was hardly surprising; for Mr Wickham followed Mr Darcy around with a false and obsequious manner, reminiscing when it was least wanted on aspects of their shared past, and talking of Mr Darcy's late father with a familiarity that was odious to him. Lydia, also, who hoped for an allowance greater than the one already generously granted by her brother-in-law to her family, took pains to praise everything at Pemberley so that Elizabeth did not know where to look, in shame.

‘Oh, Darcy, I declare I have never seen such furniture as you have at Pemberley! Why, it is truly magnificent! I believe that, if Wickham and I had a dining-table and chairs half as fine as these, there would be an offer from a wealthy merchant to have us as his advisers. You know, to guide him in manners and furnishings and the like!'

‘Hush, Lydia,' cried Mr Wickham, who failed to see the extent of his host's displeasure, and cornered him neatly at the far end of the long gallery. ‘Darcy, I hear you seek an incumbent for the
parsonage at Matlock. Will you not consider me for the place? Truly, I have led an exemplary life for many years now.'

‘You should see Wickham go down on his knees and pray each night,' cried Lydia in an insincere voice.

Mr Darcy made no reply to this. Going from the long gallery to a drawing-room – and Elizabeth was sadly aware that she followed him as the rest did, as a subject might in hope of an audience with a rarely glimpsed king – Mr Darcy saw his aunt at her embroidery, and stopped to ask if the snowstorm had affected her repose on the preceding evening. Lady Catherine replied that the storm had left her undisturbed; but that other events had caused her to suffer a sleepless night.

‘We will speak later,' said Darcy gravely; and walked on, stopping suddenly as a crowd of small children – comprising the Wickhams and Emily Bingley – swept down the long gallery from the far end., whooping and crying as if in imitation of native warfare.

‘Darcy, we should speak now,' said Lady Catherine, rising.

Elizabeth was mortified in the extreme to see her husband and his aunt go into an ante-room and close the door. She now bitterly reflected that she had no sense any longer of her responsibilities. Where was the trust and affection between master and mistress of Pemberley that was the only hope of the continuance of a family party there without anger and resentment? ‘Darcy chooses to call off the entertainment for the children that was so near to my heart, on which I worked and planned for so long. Now he consults Lady de Bourgh, as to what to do with my poor aunt and uncle Gardiner, who had no wish to find themselves living on his charity, for they are proud, good people. But then, he has to put up with Wickham as his brother now. I do not wonder that he turns from me and talks to his aunt. And he returns to find a baby just born here. Oh, it is not to be thought of! Jane should never have come, so near her time! It was Mama's selfish want of her and now we are all exposed to Mama's foolish ways.'

So thought Elizabeth, her mind in turmoil; and seeing Darcy come out of the ante-room with a face like thunder, and Lady Catherine very straight and tall behind him she did for a moment think of running from the house and away altogether.

This impulse, however, could not have been carried through even if she had wished it, for the figure of Colonel Kitchiner now appeared at the head of the stairs and advanced to join the assembled company, each member of which was now struck dumb at the realisation that Mr Darcy had not the slightest idea who this gentleman might be.

‘Ah, Colonel,' cried Mrs Bennet – but then stood as silent as the others as Darcy turned his eye on the uninvited guest.

Certainly Colonel Kitchiner did not cut a dash. His apparel, stained from the excesses of the dinner table and the port of the night before, was unkempt in the extreme; and, walking as he did with a sideways limp, on account of his wooden leg, he gave an air of being escaped from a house for the insane. It was noted that his eye glittered and his jowls moved at great velocity, in his desire to make himself known to his host. Master Thomas Roper followed him at a short distance.

‘Mr Darcy,' said Colonel Kitchiner, coming forward and attempting a bow which all but swept him off his feet, ‘it is my very great pleasure to make your acquaintance!'

Here Darcy did turn to Elizabeth. She saw not a gleam of amusement in his eye; she saw him as an offshoot of his aunt: icy, arrogant, proud. And her spirit rose in her, to say in as cool a tone as she could find that she wished to present ‘Colonel Kitchiner, a cousin, visiting from Manchester; and snowbound here like the rest.'

Darcy did not hold out his hand. Lady Catherine, with an awful expression, returned to her chair; and Master Roper commenced a lecture on the campaigns in the Peninsular Wars in which the colonel had participated; along with a full description of artillery and musketry deployed.

Colonel Kitchiner was not to be deflected by Master Roper's intervention. He came closer to Mr Darcy – who now stood up by the window, looking out impatiently at the falling snow which kept all the party under his roof, and spoke right into his face as if addressing a person devoid of hearing.

‘We are connected, Mr Darcy, I believe. The Mortimer Moores, of Devon, had Salway House; and a Miss Darcy was married from there to Mr Mortimer, my great-uncle, on my mother's side. Yes, indeed.'

‘So we are related twice over!' cried Mrs Bennet, coming up to Mr Darcy with as great impunity as Colonel Kitchiner had done. ‘We are cousins all along! Lizzy, do you hear that?'

Mr Darcy showing no sign whatever of having heard this, the party then dispersed. The weather made any expedition outside imprudent; rooms were opened up that were not customarily in use, and fires lit – for Lady Catherine, as became clear, had requested of her nephew that new apartments be made available to her, Miss de Bourgh and Miss Bingley alone. On discovering this arrangement, Elizabeth's cheeks burned; but what could she do? She could only wish herself swallowed up and a million miles under the ground, rather than endure the meal to which they would all go in at four o'clock.

The house now contained all the different members of a family which did not yet in itself exist. Thus thought Elizabeth, for the shrieks of the children were audible still; and the disapproval of Darcy's aunt seemed to look down on her from the portraits on the walls and miniatures set out on the tables. Pemberley had become a shrine to the lasting qualities of a name and a fortune and an estate, and it did not care for diversions, only for continuance. And this, Elizabeth thought at last and bitterly, she could not provide. The benign features of the late Mr Darcy, as he appeared to Elizabeth's gaze in the higher gallery, which was quiet now with the dispersal of the ill-assorted group to their separate quarters, asked that she give Pemberley the means to live on, in comfort, without disruption, in a straight line from himself and his son. The more distant portraits, of Jacobean Darcys, and of boys and girls in lace collars and with spaniels at their side, from the ancient line to which Lady Catherine and the late Lady Anne belonged, asked as well this one simple thing: if Darcy, in his life span, was no more than steward of Pemberley, its acres, outlying farms, villages and churches, then was it superfluous to ask of his wife that she provide an heir? Was Mrs Bennet, even, right in thinking the attitude of Elizabeth the reason for her barrenness? Was it not true that, in her joy and relish at her time in this paradise alone with Darcy, she had given little thought to her duties, as mother of the future of Pemberley?