Chapter 20
“Shall we take a few turns in the garden?” asked Mrs Cooper, knowing how much Elizabeth loved walking.
The grass was still wet, and in the distance the wooded paths were probably yet muddy, but the principal gravel walks near the house were already accessible, since that fine gravel seemed to erase every trace of rain.
“I remember when I was little, every rainfall produced a calamity in the house because we ran in and out without cleaning our shoes. Poor Mama often begged Papa to lay such gravel at Longbourn,” said Elizabeth.
“Once he sent all of us to London; we believed he was merely delighted to remain alone for a few days, but when we returned every path around the house, even those stretching towards the wood, had been covered with gravel…I did not often witness scenes of affection between my parents, but I remember Mama throwing her arms about his neck, and him embracing her…Good heavens, poor Mama. In the end, I believe they loved one another.”
“They certainly loved one another. Your mother accepted his ideas about the children’s education, though she was always far more grounded in reality than he.”
“And he always thanked her through small gestures such as that gravel,” murmured Elizabeth. “I am so glad I saw them embraced that day.”
“For the wrong reasons, however,” replied Mrs Cooper with humour.
“You imagined a love story such as those in your novels, ending in marriage. Yet it is perfectly certain that your mother was married to your father by her family. And still, the love you witnessed came between them in the end. It happens sometimes that love springs after marriage, true love, not merely affection.”
“Your discourse is more subtle than Mama’s, but in the end it says exactly the same thing,” returned Elizabeth, smiling, suddenly in rather better spirits.
It was a beautiful day, and Pemberley offered her a setting in which, for a few moments, she could forget grief and anxiety.
They were not alone in the park, but had already wandered far from the others.
Miss Darcy waved to them from the terrace, though she did not join them, being engaged in conversation with the colonel.
“I perceive you already have friends amongst this group,” observed Elizabeth.
“They are people from Derby whom I already know, though I have never met them on occasions such as this. As I told you, Derby is not Meryton; it is rather a miniature London. There is no ton properly speaking, but several families from Derby and the neighbouring landowners form a separate society. Take Lady Fletcher and her husband, Sir Andrew…his rank is no higher than that of Sir William from Meryton, yet here in Derby they possess a much greater standing, and their friendship with Mr Darcy only adds to their consequence.”
“And you wished to belong to that society, this society invited to Pemberley,” said Elizabeth, without reproach, merely as an observation.
“Yes. Is that so very wrong?”
“Not in the least.”
“Call it snobbery,” replied Mrs Cooper, though with such detachment and sincerity that Elizabeth admired her exceedingly for it.
Mr Bingley’s sisters likewise wished to be amongst those belonging to the ton, but their manner had been entirely different; they appeared to believe that, at the same time, they must despise all those who did not belong to the society into which they themselves wished to enter.
“To speak honestly, all my life I dreamed of coming to Pemberley,” continued Mrs Cooper with the same sincerity, and Elizabeth, closing her parasol, took her arm.
“Elizabeth, the sun is strong; take care.”
“In summer, I was always tanned, and Mama despaired of it. There is nothing dreadful in that. Yet it is not the sun I think of now, it is Pemberley. I am glad we are here.”
“For my sake?” asked Mrs Cooper rather cunningly.
“And for mine,” answered Elizabeth with a smile. Then she pointed towards Darcy, who, from the terrace, was signalling for them to return.
“He is certainly preparing something for us,” she observed.
“My dear, I believe it would be more correct to say he is preparing something for you, because everything seems to revolve around you.”
“Do you think so?” Elizabeth looked at Mrs Cooper with vague perplexity, while Mrs Cooper, too, closed her parasol as they approached the steps. “And still I have the impression he would no longer ask me to marry him.”
Mrs Cooper paused and looked at her. A few steps more and they might be overheard from the terrace, but at that moment she wished to know more.
“Why?”
“A man who admires you behaves in a particular manner.”
“Well, but he behaves differently with you, from the way he behaves with the rest of us.”
“Differently perhaps, but with the same affection the colonel has. I believe the moment of love has passed, and only friendship remains. I feel he wishes to amuse me because of my tragedy; I feel he would like to do something tangible for me, but as a friend.”
“And you?” asked Mrs Cooper quickly.
“I? I no longer feel any resentment towards him. And I believe I could move towards friendship with him as well…just as I am with the colonel.”
“No more than that?”
But Elizabeth had already begun ascending the steps, and Darcy extended his hand to assist her; thus, their conversation ended without an answer.
“I thank you, Mrs Cooper, not allowing Miss Elizabeth to wander towards the woods or across the fields,” he remarked with a smile.
“What do you mean?” asked Mrs Cooper in confusion.
“It means you do not know everything about your relation, who, in order to shorten a journey, is capable of taking any route whatsoever, even across muddy fields, entirely indifferent to the rain.”
“I hope you do not intend to tell everybody,” returned Elizabeth, amused.
“But I wish to hear the whole story,” protested Mrs Cooper.
“That is the whole story,” replied Elizabeth. “One morning, I appeared before several exceedingly elegant ladies with the hem of my gown and my shoes covered in mud, and they looked at me with great reproach.”
“Not I!” Darcy hastened to assure her.
Mrs Cooper sincerely wondered whether the young lady beside her truly understood what was passing in the mind of the gentleman before them, who appeared very far from desiring only her friendship.
Miss Darcy and the colonel joined them, and soon a cheerful circle formed upon the terrace with those guests who still remained, even if several couples had already departed.
“I had wished to take you through the woods to the hunting lodge, but my servants inform me that the road is not yet passable. We shall do so another day,” said Darcy, glancing around him. However, everyone appeared willing to agree to whatever plan he proposed.
“Mrs Cooper and Miss Elizabeth are at Pemberley for the first time; perhaps they would wish to see the house,” suggested Miss Darcy, eager to act as hostess.
“There will be time enough for that also,” replied Darcy kindly, looking towards his sister. “Now, I propose something even our oldest friends have not yet seen. My mother’s collection of miniatures.”
“From Mama’s parlour?” asked Miss Darcy in surprise.
“Precisely.”
Everyone perceived the astonishment upon the young girl’s face, because she had not yet learned to conceal her feelings.
It was indeed unusual, because though Pemberley itself might be visited, and probably had been many times by those present, the private apartments remained closed; and Lady Anne’s rooms were even more carefully preserved, as Darcy had wished to keep everything exactly as it had been in her lifetime, but only for themselves.
“My mother possessed a remarkable collection of miniatures and designed several display cabinets to store them in sight. For a long time, however, we were unwilling to alter anything in those rooms. Now the collection has finally been arranged within those cabinets, and I believe the time has come for others to see it.”
He invited them all to follow him, but the colonel approached Elizabeth and whispered, “The story has been slightly altered. The cabinets arrived a long time ago and were stored here until…a few days ago.”
That was all he said, but both Elizabeth and Mrs Cooper understood perfectly, as well as the intention behind it.
They entered the room with the reverence due to a place long untouched by daily life.
Everything appeared as though Lady Anne had departed only a day or two earlier.
Some changes, however, had certainly been made, even if her sofas and writing table remained, most of the other furniture had been removed and replaced with graceful, elegant display cabinets whose simplicity only heightened the beauty of the objects within.
There were miniatures from all parts of the world, from ancient Greece to China, passing through Egypt.
“Mama noted carefully what each object was and where it came from. One day we shall probably add labels as well, but presently there is pleasure enough in seeing them simply as they are.”
“And where did she keep them before?” asked Elizabeth with genuine curiosity, as she had first paused before the portrait of Lady Anne holding Georgiana in her arms, with Darcy beside her, a boy of perhaps thirteen.
“Everywhere,” he answered with a smile. “She had little tables and shelves covered with them. The pieces she loved most remained upon the upper shelves—Greece, China…”
The gentlemen, less interested, looked briefly before departing with the colonel, but the ladies remained. They would gladly have learned more, though for the present all the details were contained in a handsome notebook which Darcy showed them.
They admired small alabaster urns carved with classical figures, delicate Sevres porcelain vases, tiny bronze statuettes representing Greek muses and Roman gods, a pair of Wedgwood jasper urns in pale blue and white, Chinese porcelain figures, crystal scent bottles with silver stoppers, several small clocks, delicate Dresden shepherdesses, and even a collection of polished shells, minerals, and cameos.
“Yet as long as our mother lived, this was never a static collection, for above all else she loved making people happy and delighting them with gifts. I believe she genuinely loved her miniatures, but in time many were given to relatives and friends, while at the same time everyone wished to contribute to her collection.”
“That is unusual,” observed Mrs Cooper.
“Lady Anne was an unusual lady, full of beauty, charm, and generosity,” remarked Lady Fletcher, who had known her well, being the daughter of one of Lady Anne’s closest friends.
“Which do you like best?” murmured Darcy, observing Elizabeth’s interest; and she, serious now, looked again before pointing towards the clocks.
“I have a weakness for clocks, though I like all the objects, the collection as a whole. How did she begin collecting them?”
“It is rather an amusing story,” he replied.
Georgiana looked towards him in surprise, because she herself did not know it.
“Some of these objects were brought back through the Grand Tour tradition of the Darcy family. Not merely from my father’s travels, but from those of all the men of the family who undertook such journeys.
Most were scattered rather carelessly throughout the rooms or the library, until my mother gathered them together.
Once she saw them assembled, the idea of a collection occurred to her. ”
“Did you make the Grand Tour?” asked Elizabeth.
“No.” Suddenly, sadness seemed to surround him. “My mother died and time for such adventures passed.”
Elizabeth felt his pain so close to her own. They looked deeply at one another, for words were unnecessary.
“Thank you,” said Darcy.
“For what?” she wished to know.
“For liking my sister and for being touched by my mother’s presence lingering still within this house, regardless of how disagreeable I might be to you.”
“You are not disagreeable to me,” she answered rather softly.
“I am no longer so, perhaps.”
“Yes. What occurred at Longbourn erased the past; I told the colonel the same thing. It made me understand the futility of anger and resentment.”
“For that I thank you. For allowing me to present my family to you as we truly are. Beside them, I hope I too may be seen differently.”
“May I ask the same of you? Would you be willing to do it?”
“Put me to the test,” he replied as they entered the drawing room together.