Pemberley Shades. D. A.Bonavia-Hunt

forget that the Vernons are dining with us tomorrow.”

      “No, I had not forgotten. Unless anything unforeseen occurs to prevent me, I shall travel the following day.”

      “Let us hope that Mr. Collins in the meantime does not arrive in person to throw himself at your feet, or that Lord Egbury has not discovered another and healthier locality for his brother.”

      “As to Mr. Collins, I shall forestall him by replying at once. Lord Egbury’s ideas and wishes I can by no means influence, but I do remember of him that once he took a notion into his head, it was not easily dislodged.”

      “Has it struck you,” asked Elizabeth, “that a man whose reason is staggering is not in a fit state to take up the burden of a parish?”

      “That is my principal reason for wishing to see him. Egbury may have exaggerated his condition, however. There is a passage in his letter which interests me very much, coming from him. He says—here it is—‘I feel sure that my poor brother would have a great deal in common with yourself. He has suffered much at Mentmore from having no one to converse with on the sort of subjects he prefers. Unlike the rest of us he is a greater reader.’”

      “That does quite unconsciously convey the character of Stephen Acworth,” she said, “for it implies a comparison with yourself. It is both a compliment and a recommendation. I do not think Lord Egbury can be quite so stupid as you make him out.”

      Darcy smiled and made some light rejoinder from which Elizabeth inferred that he regarded that matter as virtually settled. It was unlike his usual cautiousness which often held him in long and anxious debate upon a question before coming to a final decision, and she who was impatient of all such deliberation was the more relieved and pleased. The uncertainty to which he had alluded had gone on far too long, and was already showing evil effects. Miss Robinson had begun to scheme and plot to continue at the Parsonage, and Mr. Mortimer was becoming tiresome to Georgiana. Elizabeth’s enjoyment of her lot was therefore no longer unqualified, and she wished for it to be restored with the least possible delay. She desired, in fact, as we all do, to be forever perfectly happy.

      CHAPTER III.

       Table of Contents

      Nothing occurred to prevent or put off Darcy’s departure for London on the day appointed. Mr. Collins made no untoward appearance, nor was Lord Egbury visited by second thoughts on the desirability of Derbyshire as a place of residence for his brother. The last commissions given and the final adieus said, Elizabeth saw his carriage go off and disappear among the trees with a sense of being deserted for those particular pleasures which cannot be enjoyed in the country. For though he was gone on business, it could not fully engross his time. At this season all the theaters were open; Mrs. Siddons was playing at Drury Lane; there were concerts to be heard, and exhibitions of pictures to be seen.

      The days passed and Sunday came. Elizabeth and Georgiana drove in customary state to church and occupied their seats in the family gallery. The service over, Mr. Mortimer hurriedly doffed his surplice and hastened to the church door to meet Mrs. and Miss Darcy. It had become established that he spent the interval between the morning and afternoon services at Pemberley House, but Darcy’s absence created a doubt in his mind as to Mrs. Darcy’s wishes, and after the usual civilities had passed, he ventured upon a question which should resolve it. Elizabeth assured him that she looked for his returning with them, whereupon his countenance cleared and he thanked her with visible relief and gratification.

      The young man was at this time in the full mood of his enjoyment of an unrequited passion. He kept his eyes most perseveringly fixed on Georgiana whenever he was not obliged to direct them upon someone else, and listened with bated breath to the least word that fell from her lips; while Georgiana as perseveringly ignored his glances and maintained a gravity and stiffness of manner towards him as far removed from complaisance as any young woman could contrive. In so gentle a creature, ever anxious to avoid giving pain, it was the more remarkable and spoke either a general determination against love, or a special aversion for the gentleman.

      The Miss Robinsons, next to the Family in consequence, had now come out of church and must be spoken to. Elizabeth walked beside Miss Robinson down the path towards the lych-gate, where the Pemberley carriage was drawn up. Georgiana, Miss Sophia Robinson and Mr. Mortimer came behind, while the lesser residents, farmers, tradespeople and villagers streamed through the porch in their wake and spread out over the churchyard to wait until the equipage had driven off. Elizabeth acknowledged the salutations of the people who stood nearest her as she passed them, and having satisfied Miss Robinson’s curiosity concerning Darcy’s absence from church, and parried a question as to the nature of the business that had taken him to London, she entered the carriage. Georgiana and Mortimer followed her.

      The drive back to the house passed without very much being said beyond observations on the fineness of the weather and the forwardness of the season. Mortimer was too much engaged in watching for a sign of relenting on the part of Georgiana to ask any questions of his own about Darcy’s journey; but while they sat in the dining-parlour eating their cold meat, Elizabeth thought it only fair to give him a hint of what was impending. He took it very quietly, without evincing surprise, and if his ingenuous countenance clouded a little, it was probably owing to the reflection that he would soon no longer come riding over to Pemberley so frequently as in the past month or two. His involuntary glance round the room showed what he was thinking.

      Elizabeth went on to give the account of Mr. Stephen Acworth she had received from Darcy. Mortimer listened dejectedly, no doubt comparing her summary of super-excellent attainments with his own shortcomings.

      “I knew Darcy would be uncommon hard to please,” he said at length. “He is all for scholarship. He likes a man who can string together Latin tags by the dozen.”

      “I am sure that is not at all my brother’s idea of scholarship,” said Georgiana very decidedly. “He says that a man of real learning never displays it in that manner.”

      This was Georgiana’s sole contribution to the conversation. After she had uttered it she cast down her eyes and appeared lost in thought. Mortimer looked dumbfounded. Elizabeth laughed and said immediately, “Mr. Darcy would never inflict too learned a theologian upon us, nor at least one who could not bring himself down to the level of our less instructed understandings; for we poor females, though without Latin or Greek, have also souls to be saved.”

      “Oh, certainly,” said Mortimer very seriously. “What is wanted at Pemberley is a quiet gentleman-like man who is not too clever, but clever enough. I daresay that with all his learning this Mr. Acworth will not set himself up too much above the rest of us.”

      After the meal was over and there was no further necessity for remaining at the table, Georgiana escaped to her own apartment and Elizabeth, maintaining the custom when Darcy was at home, went out with Mortimer on a tour of the gardens and stables. Mortimer admired everything he saw, but especially the horses.

      “I shouldn’t wonder if Darcy has not some of the best horses in the country. Why don’t he breed for racing? I should in his place.”

      “He has no interest in the sport.”

      “I daresay not. His mind is set on higher matters. You know, Mrs. Darcy, he used to be held up to us as a model of what a young man should be, and we didn’t much like it. But he is vastly changed since he married; you wouldn’t know him for the same. That is one of the effects of having a wife, I suppose.”

      “And what do you suppose are the effects of having a wife?” enquired Elizabeth, unable to refrain from drawing him out for her own amusement.

      “If I am to speak for myself, I think it would do me a great deal of good. You can see without my telling you that I am an awkward, backward sort of man, and though you may not believe it, I often feel at a horrid disadvantage in the presence of ladies. True, I am not uncomfortable with you, for you know how to put a man at his ease. But with others! Sometimes I have not a word to say for myself,