Chapter 14 #5
Her glance was so full of meaning that he could not pretend to misunderstand it. The consciousness of what he had once said to her made it impossible for him to attempt, as once he might, to escape into coldness.
When the tour was over the ladies were shown to the pretty sitting-room upstairs which he placed at their disposal. Darcy remained in the saloon, ostensibly to speak to Mrs. Reynolds about the dinner hour. In truth, he needed a few moments to compose himself.
He had expected embarrassment, perhaps constraint. He had not expected this sense of rightness, of ease. It was as if some long-absent piece of his life had quietly slotted into its place, and yet he dared not touch it for fear of dislodging it again.
Mrs. Littlewood seized the opportunity to speak. She had set down her cup. Her hands were folded, but her eyes were very much awake.
“Well, Master Fitzwilliam?” she said.
“Well, Mrs. Littlewood?” he returned, with an attempt at lightness.
“You have done a mighty fine thing,” she said, after a moment’s scrutiny, “and no mistake.”
“I am not aware—”
“You pretend not to know my meaning,” she said, with a snort which no other person in the world could have permitted themselves in his presence.
“I am an old woman, sir, not a blind one. I have seen every sort of visitor pass through this house, from great ladies with feathers enough to frighten the footmen, down to poor cousins that came more for the beef than the company. I never yet saw you give yourself so much stir for any of them as you have done for these two young ladies.”
“I am obliged to Miss Bennet and Miss Mary for doing my sister so much credit,” he answered, more stiffly than he intended. “They deserve my attention.”
“They deserve a deal more than attention,” said Mrs. Littlewood bluntly.
“Miss Elizabeth in particular. She walks into these rooms as if she has always belonged in them, and looks at every thing as if she loved it. Pemberley sits better upon her than it does upon half the people born to such houses.”
He did not trust himself to reply. Mrs. Littlewood went on, more quietly.
“I watched you when we came to the door,” she said.
“I know the way you have of holding yourself in when your heart is touched. You had it when your mother died, and again when your father was taken. You have it now, only the look in your face is different. Less shut up, more…hopeful, if I may say so.”
“Mrs. Littlewood,” he said, with an effort, “you are presuming a great deal upon an old acquaintance.”
“I am presuming upon your heart,” she answered.
“You think I do not see how you look to her before you speak, how you wait on her step, how you consider every little comfort she could want. You may be able to hide such things from strangers. You cannot hide them from the woman who wiped your nose and boxed your ears when you told lies about your copy-book.”
Despite himself, he smiled.
“You are determined to make me ridiculous,” he said.
“I am determined you shall be happy,” she retorted.
“I have seen you do your duty, and do it well, till I have been proud enough to burst. I have not seen you much pleased with your lot. Now there is a chance of it. That young lady has wit enough to match yours and feeling enough to soften you. She is not afraid of you, yet she respects you. If you let this slip out of your hands for want of courage, I shall say you are a greater fool than ever I thought you.”
His composure deserted him for a moment. He turned away to the window.
“You talk as if everything depended upon me,” he said. “You forget that Miss Elizabeth may have no such …feeling.”
Mrs. Littlewood’s voice softened.
“I forget nothing,” she replied. “I saw her face when she first looked upon the house. There was more in it than admiration of stone and water. She watched for you, sir, the moment she crossed the threshold. She listened when Mrs. Reynolds spoke of your father as if it mattered more to her than to the rest. She is not indifferent.”
The possibility, which he had hardly dared to name even to himself, seemed, under Mrs. Littlewood’s plain statement, less like a delusion.
“What would you have me do?” he said at last.
“Do?” Mrs. Littlewood repeated. “Why, the same as you would expect from any man worthy to be master here. Be honest, be humble, and do not lose time. You must mend your courage. If you mean to ask her to share Pemberley, ask her and do not leave her to suppose she is nothing to you but a guest.”
“You speak as if it were a simple thing,” he said. “You did not see how officiously I ordered her father’s household about, nor how steadily she has taken my attentions for mere gratitude. You do not know how far I am from deserving that she should see them as anything more.”
Mrs. Littlewood’s eyes, for all their shrewdness, were kind.
“I know that a woman who had no feeling for you would not be here,” she said.
“I know that a man who is afraid of being refused is oftener lost through his hesitation not his faults. The rest is in God’s hands – and Miss Elizabeth’s.
Get on with it, as you used to say when you wanted me to hurry your bread and honey. ”
Darcy drew a long breath. “You have grown more dictatorial with age, Mrs. Littlewood,” he said.
“I have grown more anxious to see you settled,” she answered. “You are not getting any younger, Master Fitzwilliam. Neither am I. I should like to see Pemberley in the hands of a mistress I can love, and you with a son of your own, before I go where I shall hear no more of your foolishness.”
He bowed to her then, more gravely “If I am fortunate enough to bring that about,” he said, “you may claim the merit of having urged a coward.”
“I shall claim only the pleasure of seeing you smile as you did when you were ten,” she replied.
Voices sounded in the passage. The light tread he had already learnt to distinguish drew nearer. Mrs. Littlewood, with the tact of a woman who had spent her life in doorways and nurseries, withdrew to her chair by the fire.
Georgiana re-entered with Elizabeth and Mary. If there was any alteration in his manner, no one but Mrs. Littlewood perceived it. She nodded once, to herself, as if a private verdict had been confirmed.
“Well,” she murmured for his ears alone, “now we shall see if the boy has the sense to deserve what Providence has put under his nose.”