Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of Pember-
ley Woods with some perturbation; and when at length they turned in at the
lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter.
The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They en-
tered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a beau-
tiful wood stretching over a wide extent.
Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired
every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for half-
a-mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence,
where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley
House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road with
some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome stone building, standing
well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills; and in
front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but
without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal nor falsely
adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which na-
ture had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted
by an awkward taste. They were all of them warm in their admiration; and
at that moment she felt that to be mistress of Pemberley might be
something!
They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and,
while examining the nearer aspect of the house, all her apprehension of
meeting its owner returned. She dreaded lest the chambermaid had been
mistaken. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the hall;
and Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to wonder at
her being where she was.
The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking elderly woman, much less
fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. They followed
her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well proportioned room, hand-
somely fitted up. Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went to a window to
enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, which they had descended,
receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object.
Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole
scene, the river, the trees scattered on its banks and the winding of the val-
ley, as far as she could trace it, with delight. As they passed into other
rooms these objects were taking different positions; but from every window
there were beauties to be seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and
their furniture suitable to the fortune of its proprietor; but Elizabeth saw,
with admiration of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine;
with less of splendour, and more real elegance, than the furniture of
Rosings.
"And of this place," thought she, "I might have been mistress! With these
rooms I might now have been familiarly acquainted! Instead of viewing
them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and welcomed
to them as visitors my uncle and aunt. But no,"—recollecting herself—"that
could never be; my uncle and aunt would have been lost to me; I should not
have been allowed to invite them."
This was a lucky recollection—it saved her from something very like
regret.
She longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master was really
absent, but had not the courage for it. At length however, the question was
asked by her uncle; and she turned away with alarm, while Mrs. Reynolds
replied that he was, adding, "But we expect him to-morrow, with a large
party of friends." How rejoiced was Elizabeth that their own journey had
not by any circumstance been delayed a day!
Her aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached and saw the
likeness of Mr. Wickham, suspended, amongst several other miniatures,
over the mantelpiece. Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how she liked it. The
housekeeper came forward, and told them it was a picture of a young gen-
tleman, the son of her late master's steward, who had been brought up by
him at his own expense. "He is now gone into the army," she added; "but I
am afraid he has turned out very wild."
Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with a smile, but Elizabeth could not
return it.
"And that," said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures, "is
my master—and very like him. It was drawn at the same time as the other—
about eight years ago."
"I have heard much of your master's fine person," said Mrs. Gardiner,
looking at the picture; "it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you can tell us
whether it is like or not."
Mrs. Reynolds respect for Elizabeth seemed to increase on this intimation
of her knowing her master.
"Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?"
Elizabeth coloured, and said: "A little."
"And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma'am?"
"Yes, very handsome."
"I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery upstairs you will
see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late master's
favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to be then. He
was very fond of them."
This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham's being among them.
Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn
when she was only eight years old.
"And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?" said Mrs. Gardiner.
"Oh! yes—the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so accom-
plished!—She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is a new in-
strument just come down for her—a present from my master; she comes
here to-morrow with him."
Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were very easy and pleasant, encouraged
her communicativeness by his questions and remarks; Mrs. Reynolds, either
by pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her master
and his sister.
"Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?"
"Not so much as I could wish, sir; but I dare say he may spend half his
time here; and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months."
"Except," thought Elizabeth, "when she goes to Ramsgate."
"If your master would marry, you might see more of him."
"Yes, sir; but I do not know when that will be. I do not know who is good
enough for him."
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled. Elizabeth could not help saying, "It is very
much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so."
"I say no more than the truth, and everybody will say that knows him,"
replied the other. Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far; and she lis-
tened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added, "I have never
known a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since
he was four years old."
This was praise, of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to her
ideas. That he was not a good-tempered man had been her firmest opinion.
Her keenest attention was awakened; she longed to hear more, and was
grateful to her uncle for saying:
"There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky
in having such a master."
"Yes, sir, I know I am. If I were to go through the world, I could not meet
with a better. But I have always observed, that they who are good-natured
when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and he was always the
sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the world."
Elizabeth almost stared at her. "Can this be Mr. Darcy?" thought she.
"His father was an excellent man," said Mrs. Gardiner.
"Yes, ma'am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him—just
as affable to the poor."
Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Mrs.
Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subjects of
the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the furniture, in
vain. Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family prejudice to which
he attributed her excessive commendation of her master, soon led again to
the subject; and she dwelt with energy on his many merits as they proceed-
ed together up the great staircase.
"He is the best landlord, and the best master," said she, "that ever lived;
not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but them-
selves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but will give him a good
name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw anything of it.
To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young
men."
"In what an amiable light does this place him!" thought Elizabeth.
"This fine account of him," whispered her aunt as they walked, "is not
quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend."
"Perhaps we might be deceived."
"That is not very likely; our authority was too good."
On reaching the spacious lobby above they were shown into a very pretty
sitting-room, lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than the
apartments below; and were informed that it was but just done to give plea-
sure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to the room when last at
Pemberley.
"He is certainly a good brother," said Elizabeth, as she walked towards
one of the windows.
Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy's delight, when she should enter
the room. "And this is always the way with him," she added. "Whatever can
give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There is nothing
he would not do for her."
The picture-gallery, and two or three of the principal bedrooms, were all
that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings; but
Elizabeth knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been already visi-
ble below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss Dar-
cy's, in crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and also
more intelligible.
In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have little
to fix the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked in quest of the only face
whose features would be known to her. At last it arrested her—and she be-
held a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy, with such a smile over the face as
she remembered to have sometimes seen when he looked at her. She stood
several minutes before the picture, in earnest contemplation, and returned to
it again before they quitted the gallery. Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it
had been taken in his father's lifetime.
There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle
sensation towards the original than she had ever felt at the height of their
acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds was
of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise of an in-
telligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, she considered how
many people's happiness were in his guardianship!—how much of pleasure
or pain was it in his power to bestow!—how much of good or evil must be
done by him! Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper
was favourable to his character, and as she stood before the canvas on
which he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon herself, she thought of
his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever raised be-
fore; she remembered its warmth, and softened its impropriety of
expression.
When all of the house that was open to general inspection had been seen,
they returned downstairs, and, taking leave of the housekeeper, were con-
signed over to the gardener, who met them at the hall-door.
As they walked across the hall towards the river, Elizabeth turned back to
look again; her uncle and aunt stopped also, and while the former was con-
jecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himself suddenly
came forward from the road, which led behind it to the stables.
They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his ap-
pearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes instantly met,
and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest blush. He abso-
lutely started, and for a moment seemed immovable from surprise; but
shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to Eliza-
beth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.
She had instinctively turned away; but stopping on his approach, received
his compliments with an embarrassment impossible to be overcome. Had
his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture they had just been ex-
amining, been insufficient to assure the other two that they now saw Mr.
Darcy, the gardener's expression of surprise, on beholding his master, must
immediately have told it. They stood a little aloof while he was talking to
their niece, who, astonished and confused, scarcely dared lift her eyes to his
face, and knew not what answer she returned to his civil inquiries after her
family. Amazed at the alteration of his manner since they last parted, every
sentence that he uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea
of the impropriety of her being found there recurring to her mind, the few
minutes in which they continued were some of the most uncomfortable in
her life. Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he spoke, his accent had
none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated his inquiries as to the time of
her having left Longbourn, and of her having stayed in Derbyshire, so often,
and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the distraction of his thoughts.
At length every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a few mo-
ments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took
leave.
The others then joined her, and expressed admiration of his figure; but
Elizabeth heard not a word, and wholly engrossed by her own feelings, fol-
lowed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and vexation. Her
coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the
world! How strange it must appear to him! In what a disgraceful light might
it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if she had purposely thrown
herself in his way again! Oh! why did she come? Or, why did he thus come
a day before he was expected? Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they
should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination; for it was plain
that he was that moment arrived—that moment alighted from his horse or
his carriage. She blushed again and again over the perverseness of the meet-
ing. And his behaviour, so strikingly altered—what could it mean? That he
should even speak to her was amazing!—but to speak with such civility, to
inquire after her family! Never in her life had she seen his manners so little
dignified, never had he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected
meeting. What a contrast did it offer to his last address in Rosings Park,
when he put his letter into her hand! She knew not what to think, or how to
account for it.
They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and
every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer reach of
the woods to which they were approaching; but it was some time before
Elizabeth was sensible of any of it; and, though she answered mechanically
to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and seemed to direct her eyes
to such objects as they pointed out, she distinguished no part of the scene.
Her thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of Pemberley House, which-
ever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then was. She longed to know what at the
moment was passing in his mind—in what manner he thought of her, and
whether, in defiance of everything, she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had
been civil only because he felt himself at ease; yet there had been that in his
voice which was not like ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or of plea-
sure in seeing her she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with
composure.
At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of
mind aroused her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself.
They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while, as-
cended some of the higher grounds; when, in spots where the opening of the
trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of the val-
ley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading many,
and occasionally part of the stream. Mr. Gardiner expressed a wish of going
round the whole park, but feared it might be beyond a walk. With a tri-
umphant smile they were told that it was ten miles round. It settled the mat-
ter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; which brought them again, af-
ter some time, in a descent among hanging woods, to the edge of the water,
and one of its narrowest parts. They crossed it by a simple bridge, in char-
acter with the general air of the scene; it was a spot less adorned than any
they had yet visited; and the valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed
room only for the stream, and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-
wood which bordered it. Elizabeth longed to explore its windings; but when
they had crossed the bridge, and perceived their distance from the house,
Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and thought
only of returning to the carriage as quickly as possible. Her niece was,
therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house on
the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their progress was
slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to indulge the taste, was very
fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching the occasional ap-
pearance of some trout in the water, and talking to the man about them, that
he advanced but little. Whilst wandering on in this slow manner, they were
again surprised, and Elizabeth's astonishment was quite equal to what it had
been at first, by the sight of Mr. Darcy approaching them, and at no great
distance. The walk here being here less sheltered than on the other side, al-
lowed them to see him before they met. Elizabeth, however astonished, was
at least more prepared for an interview than before, and resolved to appear
and to speak with calmness, if he really intended to meet them. For a few
moments, indeed, she felt that he would probably strike into some other
path. The idea lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their
view; the turning past, he was immediately before them. With a glance, she
saw that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate his polite-
ness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place; but she had
not got beyond the words "delightful," and "charming," when some unlucky
recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pemberley from her
might be mischievously construed. Her colour changed, and she said no
more.
Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and on her pausing, he asked
her if she would do him the honour of introducing him to her friends. This
was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared; and she could
hardly suppress a smile at his being now seeking the acquaintance of some
of those very people against whom his pride had revolted in his offer to her-
self. "What will be his surprise," thought she, "when he knows who they
are? He takes them now for people of fashion."
The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she named
their relationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore
it, and was not without the expectation of his decamping as fast as he could
from such disgraceful companions. That he was surprised by the connection
was evident; he sustained it, however, with fortitude, and so far from going
away, turned his back with them, and entered into conversation with Mr.
Gardiner. Elizabeth could not but be pleased, could not but triumph. It was
consoling that he should know she had some relations for whom there was
no need to blush. She listened most attentively to all that passed between
them, and gloried in every expression, every sentence of her uncle, which
marked his intelligence, his taste, or his good manners.
The conversation soon turned upon fishing; and she heard Mr. Darcy in-
vite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there as often as he chose while he
continued in the neighbourhood, offering at the same time to supply him
with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of the stream where there
was usually most sport. Mrs. Gardiner, who was walking arm-in-arm with
Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of wonder. Elizabeth said nothing, but
it gratified her exceedingly; the compliment must be all for herself. Her as-
tonishment, however, was extreme, and continually was she repeating,
"Why is he so altered? From what can it proceed? It cannot be for me—it
cannot be for my sake that his manners are thus softened. My reproofs at
Hunsford could not work such a change as this. It is impossible that he
should still love me."
After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front, the two gen-
tlemen behind, on resuming their places, after descending to the brink of the
river for the better inspection of some curious water-plant, there chanced to
be a little alteration. It originated in Mrs. Gardiner, who, fatigued by the ex-
ercise of the morning, found Elizabeth's arm inadequate to her support, and
consequently preferred her husband's. Mr. Darcy took her place by her
niece, and they walked on together. After a short silence, the lady first
spoke. She wished him to know that she had been assured of his absence
before she came to the place, and accordingly began by observing, that his
arrival had been very unexpected—"for your housekeeper," she added, "in-
formed us that you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed,
before we left Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately ex-
pected in the country." He acknowledged the truth of it all, and said that
business with his steward had occasioned his coming forward a few hours
before the rest of the party with whom he had been travelling. "They will
join me early to-morrow," he continued, "and among them are some who
will claim an acquaintance with you—Mr. Bingley and his sisters."
Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow. Her thoughts were instantly dri-
ven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's name had been the last mentioned
between them; and, if she might judge by his complexion, his mind was not
very differently engaged.
"There is also one other person in the party," he continued after a pause,
"who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow me, or
do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your
stay at Lambton?"
The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was too great for
her to know in what manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt that
whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her must
be the work of her brother, and, without looking farther, it was satisfactory;
it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made him think really
ill of her.
They now walked on in silence, each of them deep in thought. Elizabeth
was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered and pleased.
His wish of introducing his sister to her was a compliment of the highest
kind. They soon outstripped the others, and when they had reached the car-
riage, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a mile behind.
He then asked her to walk into the house—but she declared herself not
tired, and they stood together on the lawn. At such a time much might have
been said, and silence was very awkward. She wanted to talk, but there
seemed to be an embargo on every subject. At last she recollected that she
had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dove Dale with great
perseverance. Yet time and her aunt moved slowly—and her patience and
her ideas were nearly worn our before the tete-a-tete was over. On Mr. and
Mrs. Gardiner's coming up they were all pressed to go into the house and
take some refreshment; but this was declined, and they parted on each side
with utmost politeness. Mr. Darcy handed the ladies into the carriage; and
when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him walking slowly towards the house.
The observations of her uncle and aunt now began; and each of them pro-
nounced him to be infinitely superior to anything they had expected. "He is
perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming," said her uncle.
"There is something a little stately in him, to be sure," replied her aunt,
"but it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming. I can now say with the
housekeeper, that though some people may call him proud, I have seen
nothing of it."
"I was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us. It was more than
civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such attention.
His acquaintance with Elizabeth was very trifling."
"To be sure, Lizzy," said her aunt, "he is not so handsome as Wickham;
or, rather, he has not Wickham's countenance, for his features are perfectly
good. But how came you to tell me that he was so disagreeable?"
Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could; said that she had liked
him better when they had met in Kent than before, and that she had never
seen him so pleasant as this morning.
"But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities," replied her
uncle. "Your great men often are; and therefore I shall not take him at his
word, as he might change his mind another day, and warn me off his
grounds."
Elizabeth felt that they had entirely misunderstood his character, but said
nothing.
"From what we have seen of him," continued Mrs. Gardiner, "I really
should not have thought that he could have behaved in so cruel a way by
anybody as he has done by poor Wickham. He has not an ill-natured look.
On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when he
speaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance that would not
give one an unfavourable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, the good lady
who showed us his house did give him a most flaming character! I could
hardly help laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a liberal master, I suppose,
and that in the eye of a servant comprehends every virtue."
Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say something in vindication of his
behaviour to Wickham; and therefore gave them to understand, in as guard-
ed a manner as she could, that by what she had heard from his relations in
Kent, his actions were capable of a very different construction; and that his
character was by no means so faulty, nor Wickham's so amiable, as they had
been considered in Hertfordshire. In confirmation of this, she related the
particulars of all the pecuniary transactions in which they had been connect-
ed, without actually naming her authority, but stating it to be such as might
be relied on.
Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned; but as they were now ap-
proaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave way to the
charm of recollection; and she was too much engaged in pointing out to her
husband all the interesting spots in its environs to think of anything else.
Fatigued as she had been by the morning's walk they had no sooner dined
than she set off again in quest of her former acquaintance, and the evening
was spent in the satisfactions of a intercourse renewed after many years'
discontinuance.
The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave Elizabeth
much attention for any of these new friends; and she could do nothing but
think, and think with wonder, of Mr. Darcy's civility, and, above all, of his
wishing her to be acquainted with his sister.
