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- pride-and-prejudice
- text
- fine,--with less of splendour, and more real elegance, than the
furniture of Rosings.
“And of this place,” thought she, “I might have been mistress! With
these rooms I might have now been familiarly acquainted! Instead of
viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and
welcomed to them as visitors my uncle and aunt. But, no,” recollecting
herself, “that could never be; my uncle and aunt would have been lost to
me; I should not have been allowed to invite them.”
This was a lucky recollection--it saved her from something like regret.
She longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master were really
absent, but had not courage for it. At length, however, the question was
asked by her uncle; and she turned away with alarm, while Mrs. Reynolds
replied, that he was; adding, “But we expect him to-morrow, with a large
party of friends.” How rejoiced was Elizabeth that their own journey had
not by any circumstance been delayed a day!
Her aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached, and saw
the likeness of Mr. Wickham, suspended, amongst several other
miniatures, over the mantel-piece. Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how
she liked it. The housekeeper came forward, and told them it was the
picture of a young gentleman, the son of her late master’s steward, who
had been brought up by him at his own expense. “He is now gone into the
army,” she added; “but I am afraid he has turned out very wild.”
Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with a smile, but Elizabeth could not
return it.
“And that,” said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures,
“is my master--and very like him. It was drawn at the same time as the
other--about eight years ago.”
“I have heard much of your master’s fine person,” said Mrs. Gardiner,
looking at the picture; “it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you can tell
us whether it is like or not.”
Mrs. Reynolds’ respect for Elizabeth seemed to increase on this
intimation of her knowing her master.
“Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth coloured, and said, “A little.”
“And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma’am?”
“Yes, very handsome.”
“I am sure _I_ know none so handsome; but in the gallery upstairs you
will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late
master’s favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to
be then. He was very fond of them.”
This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham’s being among them.
Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn
when she was only eight years old.
“And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?” said Mr. Gardiner.
“Oh, yes--the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so
accomplished! She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is a
new instrument just come down for her--a present from my master: she
comes here to-morrow with him.”
Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were easy and pleasant, encouraged her
communicativeness by his questions and remarks: Mrs. Reynolds, either
from pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her
master and his sister.
“Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?”
“Not so much as I could wish, sir: but I dare say he may spend half his
time here; and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months.”
“Except,” thought Elizabeth, “when she goes to Ramsgate.”
“If your master would marry, you might see more of him.”
“Yes, sir; but I do not know when _that_ will be. I do not know who is
good enough for him.”
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled. Elizabeth could not help saying, “It is
very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so.”
“I say no more than the truth, and what everybody will say that knows
him,” replied the other. Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far;
and she listened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added,
“I have never had a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him
ever since he was four years old.”
This was praise of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to her
ideas. That he was not a good-tempered man had been her firmest opinion.
Her keenest attention was awakened: she longed to hear more; and was
grateful to her uncle for saying,--
“There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in
having such a master.”
“Yes, sir, I know I am. If I were to go through the world, I could not
meet with a better. But I have always observed, that they who are
good-natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and he
was always the sweetest tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the
world.”
Elizabeth almost stared at her. “Can this be Mr. Darcy?” thought she.
“His father was an excellent man,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
“Yes, ma’am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him--just
as affable to the poor.”
Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Mrs.
Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subjects
of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the
furniture in vain. Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family
prejudice, to which he attributed her excessive commendation of her
master, soon led again to the subject; and she dwelt with energy on his
many merits, as they proceeded together up the great staircase.
“He is the best landlord, and the best master,” said she, “that ever
lived. Not like the wild young men now-a-days, who think of nothing but
themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but what will
give him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never
saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle
away like other young men.”
“In what an amiable light does this place him!” thought Elizabeth.
“This fine account of him,” whispered her aunt as they walked, “is not
quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend.”
“Perhaps we might be deceived.”
“That is not very likely; our authority was too good.”
On reaching the spacious lobby above, they were shown into a very pretty
sitting-room, lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than
the apartments below; and were informed that it was but just done to
give pleasure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to the room, when
last at Pemberley.
“He is certainly a good brother,” said Elizabeth, as she walked towards
one of the windows.
Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy’s delight, when she should enter
the room. “And this is always the way with him,” she added. “Whatever
can give his sister any pleasure, is sure to be done in a moment. There
is nothing he would not do for her.”
The picture gallery, and two or three of the principal bed-rooms, were
all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings:
but Elizabeth knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been already
visible below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss
Darcy’s, in crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and
also more intelligible.
In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have
little to fix the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked on in quest
of the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it
arrested her--and she beheld a striking resemblance of Mr. Darcy, with
such a smile over the face, as she remembered to have sometimes seen,
when he looked at her. She stood several minutes before the picture, in
earnest contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the
gallery. Mrs. Reynolds informed them, that it had been taken in his
father’s lifetime.
There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth’s mind, a more gentle
sensation towards the original than she had ever felt in the height of
their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs.