Pemberley Shades. D. A.Bonavia-Hunt

him of tastes and pursuits he could no longer indulge, and that the commiseration his state excited in his mother and sisters, so far from soothing him, served only to augment his wretchedness and weaken his self-command. When you have read thus far I know you will not blame me for pressing him to come to Pemberley and remain as our guest for as long as he chooses. He had not previously heard that I was married, and professed to be greatly surprised at the news, whereupon I told him that when he saw you he would no longer wonder. To conclude, I know that between us we shall find the means to rescue him from his present dejection of spirits and restore him to a happier frame of mind.

      “And now to turn to Mr. Acworth. I find it difficult to express in few words what I think of this man, or perhaps it would be truer to say that I am at a loss to know what I do think. As you will recall, I was prepossessed in his favour by the good report I had of him formerly, the truth of which there was no reason to doubt since it came from those who had no motive for deception. Everyone at Mentmore spoke of him with praise and affection. Having now for the first time seen him in the flesh, I cannot say that he pleases me; but it may be that the discrepancy between the creature formed of my imagination and the actual man accounts for my disappointment. It will not do to give way to first unfavourable impressions, for he may prove to be one of those men who never do themselves justice before strangers. We must not judge him, therefore, until closer acquaintance has revealed more of his character.

      “Having conceded this much, I can speak the more frankly. I have always flattered myself on being able to form a tolerably correct estimate of a person at a first meeting, particularly when it has for its purpose some business which demands candour on both sides. Mr. Acworth had a great deal to say, he spoke well and his sentiments were all that they should be, yet I found myself at every turn questioning his sincerity. Methought he did protest too much. Even if he had anything to gain in the pecuniary sense by exchanging the living of Mentmore for that of Pemberley, there could be no disgrace in avowing it; but he laboured the point that all he desired was a change of scene and a new direction to his thoughts. This is self-evident, and need only have been touched upon, instead of which he was copious in self-disclosure. That perhaps, Elizabeth, is at the bottom of my distrust. I cannot comprehend how he could speak of his inmost feelings to a man he had never seen before and can know next to nothing of, as he did to me.

      “At a second interview which took place, this time at my house, although he had previously expressed the strongest desire to come to Pemberley, he begged that any decision affecting permanent residence might remain in suspense for at least six weeks. My original intention had been to allow a fortnight at most, on consideration of all the evils which a longer delay might produce, and had I consulted my own inclination it would have been strictly to adhere to it. But his request, though inconvenient, could not be judged unreasonable, and I agreed to a period of what might be called mutual probation, not to be extended beyond the six weeks desired, and terminable on his side beforehand on any new circumstance arising. In this I was moved as much by a sense of obligation to his brother who had approached me in the name of friendship, as by his own unhappy situation. Whether I have acted wisely in my own interest time will show. Expediency might point to another course, but on the whole my conscience approves what I have done.

      “Well, now I have written out all my mind to you, and feel the clearer for it. Could I have acted otherwise? At the worst some time will have been gained, for I shall not in the meanwhile give over enquiries in other quarters. Acworth will, of course, stay with us for the present, and you will have ample opportunities of studying his character in all its intricacy. It is doubtless as complicated as you could wish; but that will be all in its favour, for, it will spur you on to solve the riddle, if such there be.”

      The remainder of the letter dealt with purely personal matters. At the end Darcy had added this postscript:

      “Stephen Acworth bears a striking facial resemblance to his father, the late Lord Egbury. That may be the reason why I do not take to him.”

      Having read all that her husband had written, Elizabeth knew not what to think except that uncertainty must continue—no very happy reflection. Francis Wakeford she was thoroughly disposed to welcome warmly. His character and disposition as portrayed by Darcy left no room for doubt and she was eager to play her part in his restoration to health and better spirits. With regard to Stephen Acworth she was sensible of the misgivings imparted by Darcy, but also felt a lively curiosity. She knew her husband’s mind too well to suppose for a moment that the several impressions made upon him by this man had not been long and carefully pondered before being committed to paper. He strove always to be generous, rather than exact and impartial in his estimate of any person, the more so as he knew himself prone to dislike a new acquaintance upon sight. Yet that he should have gone to the interview with Stephen Acworth, prepossessed in his favour, prepared to be cordial, and came away dissatisfied was extraordinary upon any supposition save that of good reason. Her second reading of certain phrases in no way varied this conclusion. Such sentences as—“I find myself questioning his sincerity at every turn—he was copious in self-disclosure”—could admit of only one interpretation.

      The rest of the day was full of those occupations and engagements which hinder recollection. As on every Tuesday, soup and dumplings were dispensed to the sick and aged poor of Pemberley, and a cluster of men, women and children stood at a back door waiting for their empty basins to be replenished. Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, and Baxter, the butler, were in attendance; Elizabeth moved among the people, talking to them, ascertaining their needs and their difficulties. Young as she was, and of a sphere beyond their knowledge, the villagers had discovered that however freely they spoke of their troubles, she never rebuked them, but understood immediately whatever they wished to say, even though words failed them. And when Mrs. Stone, a widow with a large family of children, said, “I ask your pardon, ma’am, but Miss Robinson have told my Rachel as she is to go into service with Mrs. Bridges at Kympton,” she comprehended without questioning that the poor woman was begging that Rachel should not go to Mrs. Bridges, but should be taken into service at the Great House where she herself had been a serving-maid. This indeed was what Mrs. Stone and the fourteen-year-old Rachel did hope for. Mrs. Bridges had the reputation of being a very harsh, strict mistress, but how could they gainsay Miss Robinson? When Elizabeth promised to speak to Miss Robinson herself, informing her that she considered she had a prior claim to Rachel’s services, the poor woman could hardly express all her gratitude and went away overjoyed.

      This fresh instance of Miss Robinson’s highhandedness made Elizabeth extremely indignant. That, as the late rector’s eldest daughter, she should have assumed the airs and authority of a patroness during the many years Pemberley had been without a mistress was to be understood, though deplored; but that she should continue to give the law to the parishioners, when she no longer had any standing but that of sufferance, was intolerable. Mrs. Darcy determined to act in such a way that Miss Robinson should no longer remain under any misapprehension of her intention to put an end to this state of affairs.

      When all the people had gone away she had some conversation with Mrs. Reynolds about Rachel Stone.

      “You wish her to be taken into the house, ma’am?” said the housekeeper. “Her mother was an excellent needlewoman and could act maid when required. I hear Rachel is good with her needle, good for her age, that is, and she could be put to work in the linen-room.”

      There was something in Mrs. Reynold’s aspect that spoke disapprobation, and Elizabeth said at once, “What else do you know of the girl?”

      “Well, ma’am, no harm exactly. She is a fine well-grown girl of her age, and looks older and behaves older than she is. It is a pity, ma’am, that the children have no father. Sarah Stone is what I would call weak with them. Rachel must learn to mind her manners when she comes here.”

      “I dare say she will do tolerably well under proper guidance,” said her mistress. It was thus settled that Rachel Stone was to enter service at Pemberley House as a serving-maid.

      Elizabeth awoke next morning with a sense of the liveliest expectation. Never before during the whole three and a half years of their married life had she and Darcy been separated for so long, and on this day of his return, the hours which must elapse before he came seemed insupportably slow. It struck her that he might arrive