Chapter 7
Elizabeth strolled in silence with Uncle Thomas.
He invited her for walks quite often, as besides his nephew, her company pleased him most of all.
She was mature and intelligent and had received the sort of comprehensive education that Mr Bennet had more than likely wished to give to a son.
Yet nothing had been lost. The beautiful young lady was superior to any nephew he might have had.
It was a rare pleasure to feel comfortable in another person’s company without having to fill every moment with chatter. Elizabeth liked being alone with him so much that she enjoyed both silence and conversation, and it never required effort to pass from one to the other.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I had a fascinating discussion with Jane the other day,” he replied, as though he had not heard her question.
“Oh, she told you her unhappy story?” she asked, rather astonished that her discreet and shy sister had opened her heart to someone she had known only a few weeks.
“Yes, she did, and about that property near Meryton which we saw from a distance the other day.”
“Netherfield?”
“Yes, I should like to see it more closely than we did last time.”
Elizabeth was curious, though she tried to restrain her eagerness to know more. She was certain Uncle Thomas would eventually explain himself.
“Jane also told me about a certain gentleman—”
“Mr Bingley?”
“No, a guest of Mr Bingley’s.”
This time, Elizabeth stopped in the middle of the road and turned towards him. “Why did she tell you such a thing?”
Thomas also stopped, trying to see her face from under her parasol. He had to accept that ladies knew how to manipulate that particular object very skilfully; they could hide their faces whenever they wanted.
“What could she possibly have to say about him?” Elizabeth asked, and the annoyance in her voice made the older gentleman smile. Plainly, he had already begun to uncover something regarding that gentleman, and he wondered whether even Jane understood her sister’s interest in him.
“She merely told me that you had some spirited disagreements and observed how easily you defend your opinions, whilst she cannot.”
Elizabeth lowered the parasol enough for him to see her eyes. Concealment had become useless. Her face bore traces of strong emotion, far stronger than the mere recollection of a gentleman she had once met ought to provoke. They had scarcely spoken of him, yet the effect upon her was unmistakable.
“Shall we continue our walk?” he asked, offering his arm.
Again, they walked in silence. All Jane knew about Darcy was what she remembered from the previous November and the little Elizabeth had told her after returning from Kent.
“Did you meet the gentleman again recently?” he asked at last, his tone both kind and persistent.
Elizabeth made no attempt to hide her agitation. The parasol rested upon her shoulder, leaving her face entirely visible.
“How is it that a gentleman takes such an interest in these stories?” she asked.
“You even accompany Mama on her visits. Since we grew older, Jane and I have hidden ourselves whenever she wished to take us along. Lydia and Kitty still go willingly, but we cannot endure hearing the same stories repeated endlessly.”
“Well, my dear niece, for me they are all entirely new!” He spoke with such cheerful sincerity that Elizabeth smiled.
“But why?” she insisted.
The explanation was not difficult. During all his travels in Africa, and even before them, he had lived almost exclusively amongst men.
In Africa, the separation between the lives of men and women was even greater.
They lived almost entirely apart. A man summoned a woman to him for the night, and in many cases, that was the extent of the relationship.
They neither ate together nor travelled together, and in the Islamic communities, a man often possessed more than one wife.
“I have spent most of my life with only men for company. For many years, I had scarcely any family at all, and then suddenly, about a year ago, I realised that I wished things to change again. Just as I did at twenty when I left for India in search of different experiences, and afterwards for Africa. But now, at my present age, I have decided I want this,” he said, gesturing towards the town and its people.
“Someone to call me Uncle, as you do. I wished to experience family life in good old England, with dinners and gossip and even winter. Everything feels fresh to me. Not unknown, but fresh. I enjoyed hearing the little bit of gossip about Mrs Robertson returning from Scotland with jewellery her husband could not possibly afford. I had never before considered what the price of a diamond necklace might reveal—”
He stopped abruptly, remembering that he was speaking to a young lady, but Elizabeth laughed and touched his arm lightly.
“Dear Uncle, we are not na?ve girls any longer. I know something of the world, and I think my sisters do as well, in one way or another. Perhaps, excepting Mary, who knows a great deal but cannot always connect her knowledge to real life. Whilst Lydia…well, Lydia is perhaps too interested in such things.”
“I am relieved,” Thomas replied. “In your company, it is easy to forget that you are my great-niece. You possess every indication of becoming a remarkable lady. I have great expectations for you.”
“Thank you, Uncle. I have never been much impressed by compliments, but coming from you—”
“It is not a compliment, Elizabeth. It is the foundation of a plan regarding you, young ladies. I wish to know each of you properly, your natures and your expectations of life. So now you must tell me more about the gentleman you met again in Kent.”
“Apart from Aunt Gardiner, nobody knows what happened,” she whispered.
“A very good reason to suspect it was more than a simple acquaintance.”
Elizabeth remained silent, and he watched her carefully.
“It was more, was it not?”
“It belongs to the past.”
“Elizabeth, I met you only a month ago, yet I suspect your usual self is considerably more radiant. In Jane’s case, it was easy enough to perceive the suffering of a lost attachment: absent eyes, sudden sadness, no attempt to conceal her feelings.
In your case, however, I believe you try very hard to hide. ”
“How can you see things so clearly?”
“I am old, my dear, and throughout my life I have enjoyed observing human nature, particularly the signs most people ignore or dismiss as unimportant. A single revealing word in an otherwise meaningless conversation, sudden sadness at the mention of a certain subject, even a tear shed when nobody believes herself observed.”
“And you noticed all this in me?”
“Yes, whilst those around you remained unaware of your suffering. Why do you conceal what happened in Kent from your family?”
“Because it is mortifying,” she answered. “That gentleman, Fitzwilliam Darcy, comes from a wealthy family on his father’s side and a noble one on his mother’s. His maternal grandfather was an earl.”
“Not quite the royal family,” Thomas observed with mild indifference.
“No, but when we first met at Netherfield, he behaved as though it were.”
“I see. Though I imagine there must be many gentlemen less contemptuous waiting for you to notice them.”
“Yes and no. Still, he was the only one who truly challenged me instead of merely paying compliments.”
Thomas concealed his smile with some difficulty. His niece was plainly one of those women who desired something more than admiration.
“We disliked one another in the beginning, but then, when we met again in Kent unexpectedly, he proposed.”
“Oh!”
“You are surprised!”
“Yes, I admit I am. It is so much more than Jane’s incipient relationship that caused her so much pain. I thought your story would be similar to hers. I was wrong.”
“Well, it is hardly much of a relationship either. We disliked one another, and then in Kent he came to my cousin Mr Collins’s house—”
“The parsonage.”
“Yes, the parsonage, and proposed in such a manner that instead of love, he inspired fury and resentment.”
“Strange. What could he possibly have said that was so wrong?”
“First of all, I learned from his cousin, who was also in Kent, that he advised Mr Bingley not to continue his attachment to Jane!” Elizabeth expected disapproval, but her uncle’s face showed only curiosity. “You approve!” she exclaimed, perplexed.
“No, certainly not. I strongly disapprove of such advice. Yet at the same time, a man should not require guidance in matters of love. One may seek advice in business, but love belongs solely to one’s own heart and judgement.”
“Are you saying that Mr Darcy’s role in Jane’s suffering was less serious than I believed?”
“I do not intend either to excuse Mr Darcy or to defend Mr Bingley’s weakness. Had he truly loved her, no force in the world would have carried him away from her.”
“I see. You are not the first gentleman to say so. Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Darcy’s cousin, said almost exactly the same thing. But that was not all. Whilst proposing to me, Mr Darcy continually criticised my family.”
“He told you he possessed strong feelings for you, but not for your relations. That is not entirely unheard of, though I agree it is an unfortunate manner in which to declare oneself. Still, he must have loved you greatly to overcome those objections and propose; and let us be fair, far more than Mr Bingley succeeded in loving Jane. I hope you agree.”
“You are remarkably lenient towards this gentleman, dear uncle,” murmured Elizabeth, slightly troubled and uncertain whether to approve or disapprove of her uncle’s position.