Chapter 23
“You look exceedingly handsome,” Darcy whispered to Elizabeth as he assisted her into her seat at table. Mrs Cooper, seated at the head of it, concealed a smile. Quite unintentionally, she had overheard him, or rather observed his lips. The expression upon his countenance revealed everything.
“Are you attempting to make me forget the first opinion you expressed so clearly at the Meryton assembly?” asked Elizabeth, though her voice betrayed little beyond amusement.
He looked at her attentively before replying. He seemed anxious to discover whether her words were merely ironical or still touched with resentment.
But her face reassured him, or rather her eyes, which met his openly.
“Will you ever forgive me for those words?”
“Probably not,” she smiled, and though they were only two words, they affected him more than he cared to admit.
He had asked the question as though the friendship or understanding between them were to continue indefinitely, and she had not protested.
Their friendship, it seemed, might continue in her view as well.
“Eternity is a severe punishment, Miss Elizabeth. Could I do anything to shorten the period of my atonement?”
“I shall consider it, Mr Darcy,” she promised.
The old skirmish between them might continue, but at present it was marked by irony, perhaps even sarcasm; it had become almost a game.
Elizabeth’s face, however, suddenly clouded. Only moments before, everything between them had appeared easy and harmonious, and he could not understand the change.
“I am not seeking punishment, pray do not imagine it,” she said.
She hesitated before continuing, but then, perceiving the concern upon his countenance, confessed with sincerity, “I sit here with all of you at this table, and I begin to forget. Then, almost immediately, I remember again, and I feel terribly guilty.”
Darcy, struck by her sincerity, recollected with pain that he, too, had once endured the same struggle.
“When my mother died, I was not much younger than you are now, and for months I lived with the guilt of being able to smile, or ride, or do anything at all whilst she no longer existed.”
Elizabeth sighed softly, grateful for his understanding.
“But my life continued and…yes, I forgot her. That is to say, the sharpness of the grief transformed itself into beautiful memories of her. Then I was obliged to assist my father almost immediately. He remained entirely paralysed by sorrow.”
“It is much the same with me. Mama is somewhat better, but I have a duty towards them. That is what I wished to say when we met in the street, though in a very awkward and angry manner, to show you that I had come to Derby only because I hoped to be of some use to them…without realising that you did not know my father had died. It seemed to me that I ought to justify myself to you, that you ought to know I was there to work.”
But their conversation could no longer continue.
Dinner had begun in earnest, and as so often happens, they were obliged to become part of the general current around them.
The company was cheerful, the food good, and with genuine relief, Elizabeth observed the difference between that evening and the dining room at Rosings.
“How do you like Derbyshire, Miss Bennet?” asked Mrs Russell.
“A wonderful region. Derby, compared with a market town like Meryton, is sophisticated and busy. I was impressed to discover that you have circulating libraries, theatres, and almost every day, some concerts in the parks.”
“When it does not rain,” said Lady Fletcher with a smile, “for lately it seems autumn has arrived instead of summer.”
“When it rains, I shall invite you to Pemberley,” said Darcy.
“Invite us to Pemberley when the weather is fair, so we may fish or hunt,” replied Sir Andrew.
“I invite you to Pemberley in any weather,” answered Darcy cheerfully.
“Though on the other hand, the twelfth of August has arrived, and we have organised nothing yet,” continued Sir Andrew.
“You are right,” said the colonel, who had arrived in the region exactly on the twelfth of August.
“What happens on the twelfth of August?” asked Elizabeth, and those around the table laughed with great good humour.
“Grouse shooting traditionally begins on the twelfth of August, Miss Bennet. It is one of the important events of the sporting season. Gentlemen travel north especially for it, particularly towards the moors.”
“And Derbyshire is well known for its moors,” said the colonel. “People from London have already begun to appear.”
“It is a pity travelling between regions remains so difficult,” said someone. “Imagine accomplishing in one day what now requires three from London.”
“We should be much poorer,” exclaimed Mr Russell. “Our wives would go to London every month in search of new gowns.”
“Mr Russell!” cried Lady Fletcher with amused reproach. “Do we complain when you disappear for days upon the moors?”
“There are no shops upon the moors, Lady Fletcher. Believe me when I say that we have no need to travel more quickly,” declared Sir Andrew.
“But perhaps that time will come whether we wish it or not,” said Elizabeth, and everyone turned towards her with surprise.
“You believe so? But how?”
“My father said that soon the Lake Lock Railway, which was built to transport coal from the mines, would be extended between towns.”
“How?” asked Mrs Cooper with genuine interest, for among those seated at the table, she alone managed her fortune entirely herself and was interested in every innovation.
“They are so-called wagons, though in truth merely several open carriages joined together, with special wheels which move upon rails.”
“But the rails themselves must be installed,” said Mr Russell. “Horrible. Can you imagine the country scarred and disfigured by such monstrosities? Far better the carriage…and more economical besides.”
Darcy said nothing. He felt her vivid presence beside him, as though she carried a restless energy within herself. She was interested in everything, and perhaps only then did he fully understand the extent of her loss. Her father had been to her far more than merely a parent.
The discussion concerning those railways continued with much contradiction, but she fell silent and turned towards him as if she knew what he was thinking.
“I should have liked you to know my father.”
And he inclined his head with evident feeling.
“So should I.”
“Speaking of hunting and new gowns…Darcy has a surprise for you,” said the colonel in a joking tone, and Elizabeth and Darcy turned towards him as though awakened from a reverie, astonished to find the outer world unchanged, though they themselves somehow rather different.
Darcy hesitated; he needed a moment to remember the day, Pemberley, and the surprise as Elizabeth’s eyes troubled him.
“Yes, indeed. Though I had intended to announce it at dessert, that it might sound the sweeter,” Darcy replied lightly.
“Still, this moment will do equally well. You perhaps do not know that the fifteenth of August is also the feast of Saint Mary the Virgin. Our grandmother Darcy’s name was Mary, and she preferred to be celebrated on the fifteenth of August rather than on her birthday.
She was a handsome woman and a little of a coquette, and had probably decided that if she did not celebrate her birthday she would never grow old. ”
He spoke the last words while looking at Elizabeth, and though it was natural for a gentleman addressing the table to look towards everyone present, the colonel smiled to himself with satisfaction; it was perfectly evident to him that general stories were addressed to the company, whilst those concerning family were meant for Miss Elizabeth alone.
His cousin, so determined not to marry, was betrayed by that inner self in which nothing had yet been settled.
“My mother was very close to her, an affectionate and quite rare relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, and after she organised the first fifteenth-of-August ball for Mary Darcy, it became a tradition…unfortunately interrupted when my mother died.”
Darcy glanced once more at Elizabeth, hoping he had not troubled her with a memory about his long-gone mother. But Elizabeth’s eyes remained clear, and the faint smile upon her face told him she had liked the story.
“The hunting season begins as well…what better occasion could there be for us to gather together and celebrate both…events?”
“Hunting on Friday, the ball on Saturday,” said Miss Darcy cheerfully, plainly delighted by the prospect of the ball, for she had been too young to remember the old tradition, and she had never seen a true ball in Pemberley.
“Precisely,” her brother replied with a smile. “We invite you to Pemberley from Thursday onwards, and I believe such a programme will suit everyone.”
“Without doubt,” said Lady Fletcher, particularly pleased, for she had often thought how delightful a ball at Pemberley would be, though none had taken place since her marriage to Sir Andrew.
“I hope you have no other engagements,” added Miss Darcy, already entirely at ease in her role as hostess of such occasions.
“And if we have, they shall be postponed,” declared Sir Andrew decisively, agreeing for all around the table, sure he was followed by all present. “Let us drink, then, to Granny Mary!” he added, raising his wineglass.
“Thank Heaven she cannot hear you calling her Granny,” said Darcy with comic alarm.
“She was an extraordinary woman,” he told Elizabeth quietly, taking advantage of the lively conversations now spreading around the table. “I should have liked you to know her.”
He hesitated for a moment, then resolved to continue.
“And my mother as well.”
Elizabeth coloured slightly before answering softly, “So should I.”