Chapter 6
Morning came bright with a dazzling sun, most unexpected for the end of March, yet bringing general delight at the Parsonage.
Even Mr Collins proposed a short excursion through the neighbourhood of Hunsford; but presently a message arrived from Rosings, obliging him to depart, though leaving behind three cheerful ladies.
While they prepared for their walk, an unlooked-for visitor appeared and paused in the middle of the parlour with such an air of astonishment that he seemed the most perplexed of all as to the reason for his own coming.
“Pray be seated, Mr Darcy,” urged Charlotte, endeavouring to lessen the oddity of the scene; yet when all were seated, instead of any return to ease, the situation grew only more singular, for no one spoke a word.
“Where is Colonel Fitzwilliam?” murmured Elizabeth at last. Charlotte looked towards her with gratitude, being quite unequal to the occasion.
“He is gone out with some comrades upon a hunting party.”
“You do not hunt, then?”
“I do, but they return not this evening, and I chose to remain behind.”
Why? Elizabeth wished to ask, yet restrained herself; the conversation was already so dull that she preferred not to prolong it.
They next spoke of the weather, of the sun, and of the unusual dryness of that spring, for which no one could account. Then, quite abruptly, Mr Darcy rose, made a few apologies, and departed, leaving the ladies even more puzzled than they had been at his arrival.
“Why did he come?” exclaimed Elizabeth. Charlotte laid a hand upon her arm, for her tone was almost indignant.
“Yes, I know,” continued Elizabeth. “I am not to be angry with any visitor from Rosings, but this visit was entirely purposeless. It was indeed worse than Miss de Bourgh’s visits, which are usually performed within her carriage—”
“Elizabeth!” cried Charlotte, displeased. “I do not understand why you speak thus. Neither Miss de Bourgh nor Mr Darcy has ever given us the least disturbance.”
“It would have been difficult to disturb us when we remained silent almost the whole time.”
Maria looked in some alarm from one to the other, for she had never before seen them disagree in earnest or quarrel otherwise than with a smile.
Yet now she felt something smouldering between them which she could not comprehend.
She wished to leave, to walk, to visit the ladies of the parish.
But even upon the road, the two continued to exchange sharp little remarks which ill accorded with Maria’s idea of their friendship.
“Let us endeavour to enjoy the sunshine,” she said timidly, placing herself between them as though to part a dangerous current of words.
To her relief, the tension subsided when, from the direction of Hunsford, Mr Clinton appeared on horseback. He dismounted and greeted them with evident pleasure.
This time, the conversation began of itself, and the awkward morning was soon forgotten, for Mr Clinton spoke of the Academy founded by his late wife, which bore her name—Margaret Clinton.
“We have twenty-five young ladies of three different ages,” he explained, “and we strive to provide instruction beyond what is usual in the common academies for girls—”
“Meaning cookery and embroidery,” interposed Elizabeth. Charlotte looked at her reproachfully, feeling that her friend still harboured a little resentment, though the cause had passed.
“Miss Bennet,” replied Mr Clinton with much gentleness, “changes are not made in a day, and young ladies such as yourself will have much to struggle against all the prejudices...yet be assured, the beginning is made, for there are those like you who desire something better.”
Elizabeth inclined her head, her tone now softened. “And who are the teachers or tutors of the young ladies?”
“We have six gentlewomen who superintend their instruction. Perhaps you will come and see us when you are next in London. I am persuaded you would value Mrs Clinton’s legacy.”
He regarded her with an air of intent observation, and again Elizabeth felt that he studied her; yet she was neither offended nor discomposed, for Mr Clinton was truly a gentleman.
Suddenly, the notion of continuing what Mrs Clinton had begun seemed engaging, even though it might imply becoming that gentleman’s wife.
She knew of young women who had married for fortune or for station.
Charlotte, whom the world already called old, had not even been asked her opinion upon marrying Mr Collins.
It struck Elizabeth as almost comic to imagine herself saying yes to Mr Clinton, merely that she might preside over a girls’ academy, which was, in truth, her secret dream.
Could she renounce love itself to pursue another kind of happiness?
Alas, she had no one with whom to share such thoughts.
In her new character of Mrs Collins, Charlotte was no longer the friend of her youth, and her advice had lost its value; too often it was shaped by Mr Collins’s way of thinking, which she seemed in great measure to have adopted.
In other households, the ladies were known to moderate the decisions of their husbands.
Yet after only two months at the Parsonage, Charlotte seemed wholly governed by her husband’s opinions, whose single object, both as a clergyman and a man, was to serve Lady Catherine.
From such a confined view, Elizabeth could derive no counsel worth receiving.
∞∞∞
That same evening, they took leave of Mr Clinton, who again invited Elizabeth to visit his Academy, now with a particular insistence that astonished her; he even wished to learn where her uncle and aunt resided.
“I would gladly remain longer,” he declared, “but I have received a letter summoning me to the Academy upon some administrative matters... You can scarcely imagine how difficult it is to conduct such an establishment where the pupils are boarded.”
Elizabeth was sincerely sorry for his departure.
He was, without doubt, the most engaging gentleman in that little society.
With Colonel Fitzwilliam, she often walked and conversed pleasantly upon light and cheerful topics, while her meetings with Mr Darcy resembled only too well his morning visit to the Parsonage.
Upon one occasion, they had spent nearly half an hour debating the meaning of near and far—Mr Darcy maintaining that Kent was close to London.
At the same time, she contended that every distance above forty miles must be accounted great.
In the days that followed, she did all in her power to avoid Mr Darcy.
When avoidance was impossible, she employed every contrivance to shorten their walks.
If at first she had fancied that Mr Darcy admired her, she was at length convinced that he did not.
How else could she explain the weariness that seemed to seize him whenever he beheld her?
Yet again, this was not a subject she could venture to discuss with Charlotte.
∞∞∞
When, after Mr Collins’s departure, Elizabeth made her reckon of the visit, she admitted that, upon the whole, the journey had not been disappointing.
She had met persons of greater and lesser interest, yet the entire society of Rosings had been worth meeting, if only to learn that the wealthy and the titled were troubled by much the same concerns as the people of Meryton or Longbourn.
And if she had found many agreeable among them, even those such as Mr Darcy or Lady Catherine, who displayed a particular pride, might at length be accepted upon the notion that pride was but a failing like any other.
Her mother gossiped without restraint, Lydia, not yet sixteen, flirted without shame, and their father was not adept at managing an estate.
Thus, faults might be enumerated without end; nobody was perfect, and at last she ceased to demand perfection even of Mr Darcy.
She only regretted that he had grown so dull towards the close of her stay that she had been led to avoid him altogether.
The true advantage of her visit had been, beyond question, her acquaintance with Mr Clinton.
His last words had left her somewhat perplexed, for he had declared, with remarkable plainness, that he would seek her out, even should she not visit his Academy.
There was something in the steadiness of his look, and in the resolution of his manner, that compelled her to consider seriously whether indeed she wished to meet him again.
She even thought of returning at once to Longbourn, that she might deprive him of the opportunity of seeing her, for she was uncertain how she might refuse his proposal of marriage.
..for of that, it could scarcely be doubted, he had been speaking.
Yet she was still determined to wait for that true love they had always dreamt of with Jane.
Her departure was approaching with swift steps. In her last letter to her aunt, she requested the carriage which Mr Gardiner had promised to send for her. She had but a few days remaining, and believed that her visit would conclude without further event...but she was mistaken.