Mrs Gardiner said nothing and even turned her eyes toward the fire, avoiding Elizabeth’s.
“I ought to have seen the situation in its true light—that is what you think, and I cannot blame you,” Elizabeth murmured, conscious that, however much Mrs Gardiner might have changed, she remained, in essence, the young lady who had married the man her father chose.
“But now that I am calm, I perceive other faults in his proposal. Beyond the disdain he showed for my family, there was something very strange in it. At no moment was it about me. He did not ask whether I liked him; he would have made me his wife without caring whether I had any feelings for him. And I cannot but declare that, in the kind of marriage I value, man and wife must feel alike—”
“Love!”
“Yes, love, admiration, respect.”
Mrs Gardiner nodded in silence with genuine admiration.
“I shall keep this proposal in secret.”
“From everyone?”
Elizabeth did not hesitate to reply, “For the present, yes!” She looked at her aunt with sudden attention and asked, “Do you think it is a wise decision?”
“There are no decisions wholly wise or wholly unwise. You must act exactly as you feel.”
“I believe I shall speak with my father. He alone would see the matter divested of passion and might offer something truly useful. Jane still suffers, and we would rather she begin to forget Mr Bingley than have him brought again before her.”
“On the other hand,” Elizabeth added in a lower tone, “however strange it may appear, I have been asked to marry.”
Long after Elizabeth had withdrawn for the night, Mrs Gardiner remained in the same place, reflecting upon their conversation. Her thoughts lingered less upon what had been said, for the events themselves were clear. They returned instead to all that had remained unspoken: the wandering glances, the half-formed expressions, the curious reserve that made her wonder what might occur should Elizabeth meet again with Fitzwilliam Darcy; after all, London was not so vast a place.
She did not like to keep secrets from her husband, but, for once, she resolved to say nothing to him, who might judge Elizabeth’s decision as deeply unwise and selfish in light of her family’s situation. It was, after all, Elizabeth’s secret—and, at the same time, it was well known how little men understand of love. She was likewise certain that Elizabeth would, in the end, speak sincerely to her father.
Chapter 2
Since she had grown up, Elizabeth secretly enjoyed having a room for herself in her uncle’s house. And indeed she awoke somewhat more at ease. The last days in Kent had been difficult to bear, between the anger left in her heart by Mr Darcy’s proposal and the increasingly cold atmosphere in Charlotte’s house. Though she had said nothing, Charlotte suspected that an unpleasant scene had passed between her and Mr Darcy. Her friend of many years, however, was concerned less with Elizabeth’s feelings than with their position with Lady Catherine, which Elizabeth might have endangered. In evident agreement with her husband, they awaited Elizabeth’s departure while insisting that her sister should remain longer.
The conversation with Mrs Gardiner had done her good, even if it had not brought much clarity, but at least it had helped her to decide that to keep certain secrets from Jane was for her sister’s benefit.
“And Charlotte?” Jane asked the next day, after Elizabeth’s detailed account of Rosings, Lady Catherine, and her two nephews. They were walking through the neighbourhood where their uncle lived, and often paused to speak withneighbours and friends, because in the ten years during which they had come there several times each year, they had become known to all.
The sun was dazzling, unusual for the middle of April, so they sat on a bench in a small park.
“Our friend Charlotte?” Elizabeth returned, in a level tone, though with a glimmer of irony in her eyes which did not escape her sister. Jane knew her too well, and words were at times unnecessary between them.
Elizabeth sighed, though without pain. “Charlotte is now Mrs Collins. With each day, she forgets what she was and becomes a copy of her husband.”
“I had expected she might change him!”
“We were mistaken. Yet, she is not to be blamed. She could not live with Mr Collins if she did not become like him.”
“How fortunate we are in our father, in our parents, after all. Mama wept and protested when Charlotte married Mr Collins, but she did not reproach us very severely when we did not marry him.”
Elizabeth kept silent since they were upon delicate ground. Their mother had reproached only her, since it had never been supposed that Jane might marrythat man, when at that time she was believed destined for thegentleman from Netherfield.
“I long to return home,” said Jane, and she appeared more serene, truly desirous of returning to Longbourn and forgetting that Mr Bingley resided in London.
“How happy Papa will be,” murmured Elizabeth tenderly, imagining him embracing them as soon as they stepped down from the carriage.
That calm moment, which seemed to enfold them both, was broken by the countenances of Mr and Mrs Gardiner, who awaited them in the drawing room.
“What has happened?” Jane asked.
Mr Gardiner cleared his throat, a sign of great disturbance, since he always found his words with ease.