VOLUME THREE

Chapter 1

ELIZABETH, as they drove along, watched for the first
appearance of Pemberley Woods with some perturbation;
and when at length they turned in at the lodge, her spirits
were in a high flutter.
The park was very large, and contained great variety of
ground.  They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove
for some time through a beautiful wood, stretching over a
wide extent.
Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw
and admired every remarkable spot and point of view.  They
gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves
at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased,
and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated
on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road with some
abruptness wound.  It was a large, handsome, stone building,
standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high
woody hills; -- and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial
appearance.  Its banks were neither formal, nor falsely
adorned.  Elizabeth was delighted.  She had never seen a place
for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty
had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste.  They
were all of them warm in their admiration; and at that
moment she felt, that to be mistress of Pemberley might be
something!
They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to
the door; and, while examining the nearer aspect of the house,
all her apprehensions of meeting its owner returned.  She
dreaded lest the chambermaid had been mistaken.  On applying 
to see the place, they were admitted into the hall; and
Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to
wonder at her being where she was.
The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking, elderly
woman, much less fine, and more civil, than she had any
notion of finding her.  They followed her into the dining-
parlour.  It was a large, well-proportioned room, handsomely
fitted up.  Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went to a window 
to enjoy its prospect.  The hill, crowned with wood, from
which they had descended, received increased abruptness
 from the distance, was a beautiful object.  Every disposition
of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene,
the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of
the valley, as far as she could trace it, with delight.  As they
passed into other rooms, these objects were taking different
positions; but from every window there were beauties to be
seen.  The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture
suitable to the fortune of their proprietor; but Elizabeth saw
with admiration of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor
uselessly fine; with less of splendor, 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 now have 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 enquire 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 tomorrow, 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 mantlepiece.  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 expence. -- "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's 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
up stairs 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 every body 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 was 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 subject 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 any thing 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 shewn 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 bedrooms, were all that remained to be shewn.  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 life time.
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. Reynolds was of no trifling
nature.  What praise is more valuable than the praise of an
intelligent servant?  As a brother, a landlord, a master, she
considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship! -- How much of pleasure or pain it was in his power to
bestow! -- How much of good or evil must be done by him!
Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper
was favourable to his character, and as she stood before the
canvas, on which he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon
herself, she thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of
gratitude than it had ever raised before; she remembered its
warmth, and softened its impropriety of expression.
When all of the house that was open to general inspection
had been seen, they returned down stairs, and taking leave of
the housekeeper, were consigned over to the gardener, who
met them at the hall door.
As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Elizabeth 
turned back to look again; her uncle and aunt stopped
also, and while the former was conjecturing as to the date of
the building, the owner of it himself suddenly came forward
from the road, which led behind it to the stables.
They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt
was his appearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight.
Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush.  He absolutely started, and for
a moment seemed immoveable from surprise; but shortly
recovering himself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to
Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of
perfect civility.
She had instinctively turned away; but, stopping on his
approach, received his compliments with an embarrassment
impossible to be overcome.  Had his first appearance, or his
resemblance to the picture they had just been examining, been
insufficient to assure the other two that they now saw Mr. 
Darcy, the gardener's expression of surprise, on beholding
his master, must immediately have told it.  They stood a little
aloof while he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and
confused, scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not
what answer she returned to his civil enquiries after her family.
Amazed at the alteration in his manner since they last parted,
every sentence that he uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea of the impropriety of her being found
there, recurring to her mind, the few minutes in which they
continued together, were some of the most uncomfortable of
her life.  Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he spoke,
his accent had none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated
his enquiries as to the time of her having left Longbourn, and
of her stay in Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way,
as plainly spoke the distraction of his thoughts.
At length, every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing 
a few moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took leave.
The others then joined her, and expressed their admiration
of his figure; but Elizabeth heard not a word, and, wholly
engrossed by her own feelings, followed them in silence.  She
was overpowered by shame and vexation.  Her coming there
was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the
world!  How strange must it appear to him!  In what a disgraceful light might it not strike so vain a man!  It might seem as if
she had purposely thrown herself in his way again!  Oh!  why
did she come?  or, why did he thus come a day before he was
expected?  Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they should
have been beyond the reach of his discrimination, for it was
plain that he was that moment arrived, that moment alighted
from his horse or his carriage.  She blushed again and again
over the perverseness of the meeting.  And his behaviour, so
strikingly altered, -- what could it mean?  That he should even
speak to her was amazing! -- but to speak with such civility,
to enquire after her family!  Never in her life had she seen his
manners so little dignified, never had he spoken with such
gentleness as on this unexpected meeting.  What a contrast did
it offer to his last address in Rosing's Park, when he put his
letter into her hand!  She knew not what to think, nor how to
account for it.
They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the
water, and every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of
ground, or a finer reach of the woods to which they were
approaching; but it was some time before Elizabeth was
sensible of any of it; and, though she answered mechanically
to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and seemed to
direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed out, she 
distinguished no part of the scene.  Her thoughts were all fixed
on that one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be,
where Mr. Darcy then was.  She longed to know what at that
moment was passing in his mind; in what manner he thought
of her, and whether, in defiance of every thing, she was still
dear to him.  Perhaps he had been civil, only because he felt
himself at ease; yet there had been that in his voice, which
was not like ease.  Whether he had felt more of pain or of
pleasure in seeing her, she could not tell, but he certainly had
not seen her with composure.
At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her
absence of mind roused her, and she felt the necessity of
appearing more like herself.
They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for
a while, ascended some of the higher grounds; whence, in
spots where the opening of the trees gave the eye power to
wander, were many charming views of the valley, the opposite
hills, with the long range of woods overspreading many, and
occasionally part of the stream.  Mr. Gardiner expressed a
wish of going round the whole Park, but feared it might be
beyond a walk.  With a triumphant smile, they were told, that
it was ten miles round.  It settled the matter; and they pursued 
the accustomed circuit; which brought them again, after
some time, in a descent among hanging woods, to the edge of
the water, in one of its narrowest parts.  They crossed it by a
simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene;
it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and
the valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for
the stream, and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood
which bordered it.  Elizabeth longed to explore its windings;
but when they had crossed the bridge, and perceived their
distance from the house, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great
walker, could go no farther, and thought only of returning to
the carriage as quickly as possible.  Her niece was, therefore,
obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house
on the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but
their progress was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom
able to indulge the taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so
much engaged in watching the occasional appearance of some
trout in the water, and talking to the man about them, that he
advanced but little.  Whilst wandering on in this slow manner,
they were again surprised, and Elizabeth's astonishment was
quite equal to what it had been at first, by the sight of Mr. 
Darcy approaching them, and at no great distance.  The walk
being here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them
to see him before they met.  Elizabeth, however astonished,
 was at least more prepared for an interview than before, and
resolved to appear and to speak with calmness, if he really
intended to meet them.  For a few moments, indeed, she felt
that he would probably strike into some other path.  This idea
lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their
view; the turning past, he was immediately before them.  With
a glance she saw, that he had lost none of his recent civility;
and, to imitate his politeness, she began, as they met, to admire
the beauty of the place; but she had not got beyond the words
"delightful," and "charming," when some unlucky recollections
obtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pemberley from her,
might be mischievously construed.  Her colour changed, and
she said no more.
Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and on her
pausing, he asked her, if she would do him the honour of
introducing him to her friends.  This was a stroke of civility
for which she was quite unprepared; and she could hardly
suppress a smile, at his being now seeking the acquaintance
of some of those very people, against whom his pride had
revolted, in his offer to herself.  "What will be his surprise,"
thought she, "when he knows who they are!  He takes them
now for people of fashion."
The introduction, however, was immediately made; and
as she named their relationship to herself, she stole a sly look
at him, to see how he bore it; and was not without the expectation 
of his decamping as fast as he could from such disgraceful
companions.  That he was surprised by the connexion was
evident; he sustained it however with fortitude, and so far
from going away, turned back with them, and entered into
conversation with Mr. Gardiner.  Elizabeth could not but be
pleased, could not but triumph.  It was consoling, that he
should know she had some relations for whom there was no
need to blush.  She listened most attentively to all that passed
between them, and gloried in every expression, every sentence
of her uncle, which marked his intelligence, his taste, or his
good manners.
The conversation soon turned upon fishing, and she heard
Mr. Darcy invite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there
as often as he chose, while he continued in the neighbourhood,
offering at the same time to supply him with fishing tackle,
and pointing out those parts of the stream where there was
usually most sport.  Mrs. Gardiner, who was walking arm in
arm with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of her wonder.
Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the
compliment must be all for herself.  Her astonishment, however, was extreme; and continually was she repeating, "Why
is he so altered?  From what can it proceed?  It cannot be for
me, it cannot be for my sake that his manners are thus softened.
My reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a change as this.
It is impossible that he should still love me."
After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front,
the two gentlemen behind, on resuming their places, after
descending to the brink of the river for the better inspection
of some curious water-plant, there chanced to be a little
alteration.  It originated in Mrs. Gardiner, who, fatigued by
the exercise of the morning, found Elizabeth's arm inadequate
to her support, and consequently preferred her husband's.
Mr. Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on
together.  After lence, the lady first spoke.  She wished
him to know that she had been assured of his absence before
she came to the place, and accordingly began by observing,
that his arrival had been very unexpected -- "for your 
housekeeper," she added, "informed us that you would certainly
not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before we left Bakewell, 
we understood that you were not immediately expected
in the country."  He acknowledged the truth of it all; and said
that business with his steward had occasioned his coming
forward a few hours before the rest of the party with
whom he had been travelling.  "They will join me early 
to-morrow," he continued, "and among them are some who
will claim an acquaintance with you, -- Mr. Bingley and his
sisters."
Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow.  Her thoughts
were instantly driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's
name had been last mentioned between them; and if she might
judge from his complexion, his mind was not very differently
engaged.
"There is also one other person in the party," he continued
after a pause, "who more particularly wishes to be known to
you, -- Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce
my sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?"
The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it
was too great for her to know in what manner she acceded to
it.  She immediately felt that whatever desire Miss Darcy
might have of being acquainted with her, must be the work
of her brother, and without looking farther, it was satisfactory; 
it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not
made him think really ill of her.
"They now walked on in silence; each of them deep in
thought.  Elizabeth was not comfortable; that was impossible;
but she was flattered and pleased.  His wish of introducing his
sister to her, was a compliment of the highest kind.  They soon
outstripped the others, and when they had reached the carriage, 
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a mile behind.
He then asked her to walk into the house -- but she declared
herself not tired, and they stood together on the lawn.  At such
a time, much might have been said, and silence was very
awkward.  She wanted to talk, but there seemed an embargo
on every subject.  At last she recollected that she had been
travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dove Dale with
great perseverance.  Yet time and her aunt moved slowly --
and her patience and her ideas were nearly worn out before
the tete-a-tete was over.  On Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's coming
up, they were all pressed to go into the house and take some
refreshment; but this was declined, and they parted on each
side with the utmost politeness.  Mr. Darcy handed the ladies
into the carriage, and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him
walking slowly towards the house.
The observations of her uncle and aunt now began; and
each of them pronounced him to be infinitely superior to any
thing they had expected.  "He is perfectly well behaved, polite,
and unassuming," said her uncle.
"There is something a little stately in him to be sure," replied
her aunt, "but it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming.
I can now say with the housekeeper, that though some people
may call him proud, I have seen nothing of it."
"I was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us.
It was more than civil; it was really attentive; and ther as
no necessity for such attention.  His acquaintance with Elizabeth was very trifling."
"To be sure, Lizzy," said her aunt, "he is not so handsome
as Wickham; or rather he has not Wickham's countenance,
for his features are perfectly good.  But how came you to tell
us that he was so disagreeable?"
Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could; said that
she had liked him better when they met in Kent than before,
and that she had never seen him so pleasant as this morning.
"But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities,"
replied her uncle.  "Your great men often are; and therefore
I shall not take him at his word about fishing, as he might
change his mind another day, and warn me off his grounds."
Elizabeth felt that they had entirely mistaken his character,
but said nothing.
"From what we have seen of him," continued Mrs. 
Gardiner, "I really should not have thought that he could
have behaved in so cruel a way by any body, as he has
done by poor Wickham, He has not an ill-natured look.
On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his
mouth when he speaks.  And there is something of dignity
in his countenance, that would not give one an unfavourable
idea of his heart.  But to be sure, the good lady who shewed
us the house, did give him a most flaming character!  I could
hardly help laughing aloud sometimes.  But he is a liberal
master, I suppose, and that in the eye of a servant comprehends
every virtue."
Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say something in
vindication of his behaviour to Wickham; and therefore gave
them to understand, in as guarded a manner as she could, that
by what she had heard from his relations in Kent, his actions
were capable of a very different construction; and that his
character was by no means so faulty, nor Wickham's so
amiable, as they had been considered in Hertfordshire.  In
confirmation of this, she related the particulars of all the
pecuniary transactions in which they had been connected,
without actually naming her authority, but stating it to be
 such as might be relied on.
Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned; but as they
were now approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every
idea gave way to the charm of recollection; and she was too
much engaged in pointing out to her husband all the interesting 
spots in its environs, to think of any thing else.  Fatigued
as she had been by the morning's walk, they had no sooner
dined than she set off again in quest of her former acquaintance, 
and the evening was spent in the satisfactions of an
intercourse renewed after many years discontinuance.
The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave
Elizabeth much attention for any of these new friends; and
 she could do nothing but think, and think with wonder, of
Mr. Darcy's civility, and above all, of his wishing her to be
acquainted with his sister.