Chapter XX

The rooms filled and the ball proceeded, and many present who were frequent visitors to Pemberley nevertheless felt that those noble rooms had never before been the setting for a more brilliant scene. Mr. Darcy received innumerable congratulations upon having at last delighted the neighbourhood by permitting his house to be seen to such advantage, and not having altogether looked forward to the evening, he surprised himself by discovering how much, with Elizabeth at his side, he could enjoy both his own pleasure in entertaining guests, which he had not previously done on so large a scale, and also the pleasure of others who were important to him, Elizabeth, Georgiana, and the Bingleys. Georgiana in particular he watched with affectionate appreciation as she moved through the crowds, handsome and stately, generally grave, but occasionally lighting up into shy animation, and far more admired than she knew or cared about.

William Price had been dancing for a second time with Kitty, and they were sitting in a corridor, on some chairs placed below a cluster of candles in a sconce projecting from the wall, when one of the candles guttered, and a few drops of hot wax fell on the edge of Kitty's chair, narrowly escaping her gown. With an exclamation of annoyance, she sprang up, withdrawing quickly from the post of danger, and looking above them, both perceived that the mischief was caused by a candle having loosened in its socket, and fallen a little to one side.

William immediately proposed that they should move to other seats, and should summon a servant to replace the candle, but Kitty was in a wild and excitable mood, and would pay no heed. Laughing and calling out that she would put it right herself in a moment, she sprang upon the chair, reaching as high as she could, and to the dismay of the onlookers, thrust her hand into the midst of the candles in order to grasp the offending one.

"Do, pray, Miss Bennet, come down!" exclaimed William, and several other persons joined their entreaties to his. "Do not try to do it; you will set your dress on fire--your sleeve is so dangerously near. Do let me help you down, lest you fall and hurt yourself."

Mrs. Jennings, who had been observing the couple during the dance, and had followed them at a little distance, now arrived in time to hear Kitty say: "Thank you, Mr. Price, but I have already done it; and all is well; I and my gown are quite safe, you see." And looking down at him with a gay, triumphant smile, she gave him both her hands, and with this assistance jumped to the ground, adding: "Now, was that not skilful of me? and if we had waited to discuss it, you would never have let me attend to it, though it was by far the best."

"I would have tried to prevent your running such risks, certainly," replied William, but his quieter tones were lost in the noisy interposition of Mrs. Jennings. "Oh, my dear Miss Bennet, now how very naughty of you! You have given poor Mr. Price quite a fright. Ah, Mr. Price, she is a sad girl, I fear, but I am glad to see Petruchio is beginning early to learn to keep her in better order. All your rehearsing in the charades will come in useful now, won't it? but I'll warrant this Katherine will be just as apt a pupil as the other." The old lady laughed heartily at Kitty's blushes, and at William's blank, uncomfortable look. "There, my dears, I won't disturb you any longer; only I hope you will both come and talk to me whenever you feel inclined."

Kitty, who had resumed her seat, was the first to break the awkward silence which followed this speech. "Mrs. Jennings is a great talker, is she not?" she said, with a laugh. "She seems able to think of nothing but those charades, and would like to make one believe that the acting was something wonderful."

"Yes," said William, after a pause. He had not sat down, but remained standing with a disconcerted air, twisting Kitty's fan about in his hands. "It is very complimentary. I wonder if--whether all the spectators were equally impressed."

"Oh, I think they were," said Kitty eagerly. "Even Darcy said some words in favour of it, and, you know, it is very hard to get any sort of praise out of him. And Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars were quite delighted. And my sister, too, Mrs. Darcy, said several times how much she liked it; she thought it so clever of Mr. Bertram to have arranged that scene."

She looked anxiously at William, and his face cleared somewhat, but he did not sit down again, and replied so absentmindedly to a few more remarks made by Kitty that when sounds of music reached them, she was quite ready to go, and walked beside him to the ball-room, thinking petulantly that Mrs. Jennings had spoilt everything by coming just then, and saying what she had; that no one liked to be hurried, or could be expected to declare himself in a crowd, and that perhaps he was vexed at having the words taken out of his mouth, as it were; altogether, the incident was thoroughly annoying.

For the next dance, she saw him invite Georgiana, but she was already engaged to Mr. Bertram, and he did not ask anyone else, but stood about watching various people, and occasionally exchanging a few words with Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mrs. Bingley, who were sitting down together during the set. Kitty could see from where she was that they were trying to induce him to find another partner, but he laughingly resisted their persuasions, and continued to walk about the rooms until the dance was over, after which he stationed himself within a short distance of Miss Darcy's chair, and when a suitable interval had elapsed, he went up to her and again made his request.

Miss Darcy acceded readily, and Mr. Bertram left them with by no means as much readiness. He had scarcely moved away when William began: "Miss Darcy, should you mind not standing up for this one? I was wondering whether you would be so kind as to show me some of the pictures in the gallery upstairs, which Mr. Darcy was speaking of at dinner. You know my time is getting very short, and I should be sorry to go away without having seen them."

"With the greatest pleasure," returned Georgiana, "and indeed I shall be glad not to dance any more at present. But you should have made my brother show you the pictures, as he is a far better judge than I am. We may find him up there, as he sometimes takes his friends round on these occasions."

The picture gallery, however, proved to be empty of visitors, and they strolled through, Georgiana pointing out which were considered to be the best paintings. William passed by them rather hurriedly, looking chiefly at the family portraits, and Georgiana, observing this, conducted him to the end of the gallery, where her brother's likeness hung. William studied it for an instant, glancing at his companion as if trying to trace a resemblance, while Georgiana told him the date of the picture, and repeated that she wished they had come up before, as he would have seen it and all the others so much better in daylight.

She noticed that William hardly seemed to take in what she said, and was not altogether surprised when he turned suddenly to her and said, with scarcely concealed agitation: "Miss Darcy, you are very kind, but at this moment I cannot think of these pictures. Will you let me speak to you for a moment? I have something important to say."

"He is going to tell me he has proposed to Kitty!" flashed through Georgiana's mind, and for one instant a rush of feeling almost overwhelmed her, but controlling herself as well as she could, she said aloud: "Certainly, Mr. Price. Do say anything you wish. Will you not sit down? and I will do the same." She indicated two chairs opposite the portrait, and seated herself in one, but William remained standing, looking at her with such a deep, earnest gaze, while he tightly clasped his hands together, that he did not seem to have heard her words.

"Miss Darcy, you must forgive my presumption. It is a bad beginning to ask for forgiveness, but I know--no one better--that it is not for me to speak to you at present as I must speak. I would have waited, till my position--till I was justified--but circumstances have made it impossible to go away and wait in utter uncertainty, for an unknown future. I do not ask anything as yet, only a hearing--only that you will let me tell you how truly and devotedly I love you, and have loved you from the first moment of my seeing you."

A dreadful misgiving had passed over Georgiana at the beginning of this speech, and only consternation kept her silent till its close. She sprang up, in a horror and dismay that would scarcely find expression, and exclaimed: "Mr. Price! You to say such words to me! What _can_ you mean? What can anything mean? _You_--no, no, it is all some horrible mistake."

"No, Miss Darcy, indeed, it is no mistake," broke in William eagerly and earnestly. "Do not be so distressed, I beg you. I do not ask you to give me any definite reply, though you can guess what perfect joy it would be to have one word of hope, however slight, from your lips--but I will wait and try to earn the right to ask for more. Next year my position will have improved, and your brother will not perhaps think it quite out of the question. Nay, I implore you, dearest Miss Darcy, to hear me only this once. I did not mean to trouble you so soon, but I could not bear to go, so far away, with no prospect of seeing you again, and knowing that others might be near you, others far more eligible and desirable than myself--you would understand, I am sure, if you only knew the tithe of what I felt."

"Mr. Price," said Georgiana, signing to him with her hand to stop, and standing erect before him, "I insist that you shall cease. I will hear no more of this. You cannot be in your right mind; at all events, you will not find me so destitute of sense of honour as you think." She paused, choked with emotion at the thought of Kitty.

"Destitute of honour! when you know, Miss Darcy, that I think you the purest, loveliest, best of creatures. Forgive me if I have offended you, only tell me how I may correct it. Do I wrong in speaking to you first? I will do whatever you wish; I would not grieve you for the world."

With great effort, Georgiana collected herself sufficiently to reply: "These professions of yours amaze and horrify me. I cannot tell you whether they are more painful to me if I have to regard them as true, than if, as at present, they seem hypocritical. In any case, it is absolutely inexplicable that you should use such language to me, you who for months past have been recognized by all her friends as the admirer of my friend Miss Bennet."

The words were out, and Georgiana felt hot with shame as she uttered them, conscious that even with the need for openness on this terrible occasion, the betraying of her friend's hopes to the object of them was a shocking thing. She was so overcome as to be unable to look at William Price's horror-struck face.

"Miss Bennet! It is possible that you thought I was paying attentions to Miss Bennet? Miss Darcy, you cannot be serious. This is too frightful. I never thought of doing so, never dreamed of her expecting them, if she did expect them. Miss Bennet was always gay and cheerful--she is a charming girl, as we were excellent companions; but as for anything more--surely you could not have been deceived, whoever else was, when you alone were the subject of all my desires and hopes?"

Georgiana shrank from the task of answering such an appeal, and took hold of another part of his sentence to reply to. "She did expect them, Mr. Price, and she received enough, at all events, to mislead her most cruelly. She has thought of no one but yourself, and of meeting again here, for months past, and everything that has happened in the last week had strengthened her in her belief in your attachment. You cannot deny," continued Georgiana, her indignation rising, "that your constant association, her delight in your society, have given rise to expectation in the minds of her friends, if you dispute its existence in her own."

"No," said William, "I cannot deny that, for I had a proof of it this evening in some remarks dropped by Mrs. Jennings; but though they disturbed me momentarily, I dismissed them from my mind, as I knew she was the kind of person whose chief delight lies in teasing young people about each other, and I thought Miss Bennet, and her other friends, were too sensible to be continually entertaining such fancies."

"Fancies!" repeated Georgiana warmly. "My poor friend is completely wrapped up, heart and soul, in what you designate as a fancy."

"Indeed, I am very sorry," said William, looking utterly downcast, "very grieved and ashamed, if I have caused Miss Bennet a moment's uneasiness, though I can hardly think that others, Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy, in particular, have so completely failed to perceive--but it is useless to enter into the exact degrees of misunderstanding. I, at least, have been as thoroughly blind as a man could wish to be. What can I do, Miss Darcy, to prove to you my innocence? If I have occasioned this unfortunate error, it has been through ignorance, thoughtlessness, nothing more. Is there any one thing, any incident, you could tell me of, by which you may have been inadvertently misled?"

Georgiana's ideas were so confused, and she was altogether so agitated that at the moment she felt as if she would never be able to collect herself sufficiently to marshal her evidence, now it was required; but, luckily, as she tried to think, one episode darted into her memory, which had frequently been discussed between herself and Kitty, and had seemed to bear naturally but one interpretation. Painful though it was to bring such matters into dispute, she forced herself for Kitty's sake to say: "Did you not tell Mrs. Knightley, after the ball which took place at her house, that you had never enjoyed an evening more, and that there was one person whose presence there had been everything to you? Did you not give her to understand that you meant Miss Bennet?"

Distress and surprise were clearly shown on William's countenance. He began to speak, hesitated, and broke off, and then resumed: "I know what you mean, but it is all too bewildering. Surely Mrs. Knightley did not tell you that? I never spoke or thought of Miss Bennet in that connection. Except that I had some pleasant dances with her, she might not have existed for me that evening. I recollect telling Mrs. Knightley what a delightful evening I had had, and it was she who suggested that one person's presence had contributed more to it than any other. I could do nothing but agree with her, as I thought she had noticed my instant and intense admiration of you. It was so evident to me, that I supposed it was to others. I thought of no one else but you. When Mr. Bingley invited me to stay with him, I was doubtful if I could accept, but directly he said that you lived in the same neighbourhood, I determined that nothing should prevent my coming. Do you recollect anything else, Miss Darcy, our meeting at the Hursts', and Captain Wentworth saying that you believed sailors to be fickle, which made me so uneasy until I persuaded myself that you did not mean it? Oh, do not shake your head, continue to misbelieve it, I entreat you. And in these last few days, if events have happened to throw me more with Miss Bennet than with yourself, it has not been my doing, or my wish. I implore you to be convinced of this, and to accept my assurances of my unswerving loyalty and devotion towards you."

It was impossible for Georgiana not to be moved by these words, though she had tried to check their passionate flow, and had remained where she was, leaning on a chair, solely because her trembling limbs would hardly support her. Now, however, summoning all her courage, and strengthening herself with thoughts of Kitty, she spoke in a tolerably firm voice. "Mr. Price, I must believe that this unhappy mistake has been made unintentionally, since you say so, but the wretchedness it has caused will not be so easily cleared away. The assurances of your loyalty should not be made to me, you owe them to Miss Bennet and her only."

She could get no further, for she was interrupted by William with a vehemence exceeding any that he had shown before. "Miss Bennet! Except as your friend, and as a lady for whom I have a great liking and respect, Miss Bennet is nothing to me, and never could be. Oh, Miss Darcy, you do not yet understand me. Can you forget Miss Bennet for one moment, and tell me if, apart from all that, there would be the slightest hope for me at some future time? the least chance of your having some faith in me, to enable me to strive to win you as I long to do?"

He had made an error, and saw it before he had finished his sentence. "Forget Miss Bennet?" repeated Georgiana, with a flash of angry pride, as she walked away from him. "I do not think you understand _me_, Mr. Price. When I have desired a friend's happiness so long, I cannot lightly see it thrown away, and never, never would I seek it for my own if it was to be at the expense of hers."

William, on hearing this, made a quick pace forward to intercept her, and, turning, so that they stood face to face, he asked in quieter, but not less ardent tones: "Only one word more, Miss Darcy. Forgive me for what I said, but tell me this. You spoke of happiness. Did you mean that it might be happiness to you, if all this were cleared up? Did you mean that I might be able to make you happy, and that there was any possibility of your ever coming to feel for me even the smallest part of what I feel for you?"

Georgiana, trembling, almost weeping, her anger not subsided, but other sensations surging strongly up, brought herself to look for one moment into the eyes of glowing entreaty bent upon hers. With almost a sob, she broke away from him, exclaiming: "No, no; it is of no use to ask me. Do not talk to me in such a way--I must not--I will not listen--I cannot bear it," and fairly ran out of the gallery.

William stood stunned and motionless for some minutes. At last he roused himself, with a deep sigh, from the contemplation of his ruined hopes, and strove to think of what he ought to do next. While desiring nothing so much as solitude and quiet, he remembered that Georgiana would not have gone straight back to the ball-room, and for the two of them to be absent would give rise to remark. To protect Georgiana was an instinct, and it gave him a ray of satisfaction in the midst of his perplexity and misery to remind himself that though she had refused his love, she now knew of its existence, and whatever misapprehension there might be as to the past, she would perceive what influence guided his actions in the future. He slowly descended the stairs, so bewildered still as scarcely to be conscious of what was going on around him; rehearsing their conversation and thinking too late of things he might have said, which would perhaps have been of some service to his cause. A crowd of persons were streaming into the hall from the ball-room, the second dance since he and Georgiana went upstairs having just ended, and supper being now talked of. He mingled with the rest, and presently manoeuvred himself into a place near Mrs. Bingley, who was now sitting with Mr. Ferrars, and greeted him with a pleasant smile.

Beyond a casual inquiry as to whether he had seen Kitty, she asked him no questions, and before long he found himself introduced to a young lady, and directed to find a place for her at one of the supper tables. What he talked of he did not know, and the rest of the evening passed in the same dreamlike manner. In his desire to attract no special attention, he chatted and laughed and danced, and was persuaded that he did so as gaily as before, but he could not keep his thoughts from wandering to Georgiana, whom he had seen returning, looking very pale, about a quarter of an hour after they had parted, or to Kitty, whose eyes continually and anxiously sought his. It was far more painful for him to see her than Georgiana, whom of course he held blameless, even for her hard words; Kitty he vaguely felt to be in part responsible for the whole trouble, and though bitterly reproaching himself for folly and blindness, he could not bring himself to go near her, to speak to her, or dance with her again, when such a construction had been put upon all their previous intercourse.

Angry at the pain he was giving her, and driven to despair at the sight of Georgiana's pale cheeks, he found the length of the evening almost unendurable, and the only relief he obtained was in going to Mr. Bingley, and asking him to fix as early as possible an hour for their start on the following morning, for it would be necessary for him and his cousin to be well on their long journey towards Mansfield by the afternoon. It had been already arranged that the three gentlemen should return to Desborough independently of Mrs. and Miss Bingley, who were to remain at Pemberley for another day or two to recover from the fatigues of the ball. Mr. Bingley good-naturedly agreed, judging that the young people had decided that it would be better to make their adieux the night before, rather than come down early to a painful scene of parting at the prosaic breakfast-table, so he went away to consult Darcy, and send out orders to the stables. This done, William felt more comfortable; inaction was intolerable to him, and he would have removed himself from the house at once if he could have done so, since to relieve her of a presence which had become embarrassing and distasteful to her was the only thing he could now do for Georgiana.

She had, as he anticipated, sought the refuge of her own room when she fled from the gallery; but even there the old habits of self-command and consideration for others prevailed over the longing to give way to her grief and distress of the mind. She knew she must not allow herself the luxury of a burst of tears, nor even a little quiet thought, in order to realize what had occurred, and decide what, if anything, she should say to Kitty. No, there was no time for that, there would be plenty of opportunity soon, to readjust their view of recent events, and all that they meant to Kitty and herself. Shaken and unnerved by the shock of William Price's declaration, Georgiana shrank from immediately facing its consequences. She could only take a few moments in which to compose herself and endeavour to smooth away the traces of emotion. That she must see him again was a dreadful thought, but it would be a far worse ordeal to have to encounter Kitty's inquiries and lamentations on the following day, and the surprise of Elizabeth and Jane. Georgiana dared not let herself think of all this, when this horrible evening was not yet over. She hastily bathed her face, and opening the windows wide, leaned out for a few minutes, for the night air to cool her throbbing temples, and went down at last, feeling as if her countenance must betray to every observer the secret of what had happened.

She took refuge at once by the side of Elizabeth, who made room for her with a smile, and did not fail to notice her aspect. As soon as she was at liberty, she asked Georgiana if she was very tired, and took care that she was provided with some refreshment. Georgiana owned to a good deal of fatigue, but declared that she should sleep it off, and Elizabeth, who thought her lassitude partly attributable to some worry about Kitty, told her that she might slip away to bed as soon as she chose, and that Kitty must not come into her room for one of their long conversations; they must wait till to-morrow to talk over the ball. Poor Georgiana assented with a grateful glance, but had difficulty in restraining her tears, as she thought how little Elizabeth dreamt that interview with Kitty could be a thing to be dreaded, not welcomed.

After supper, she could not, for fear of making herself conspicuous, avoid one or two invitations to dance; but she was truly glad when Colonel Fitzwilliam, on a hint from Elizabeth, approached her, and said: "Let me take you to a seat in the library, Georgiana. I fear you are tired, and you will be able to rest quietly there, and not say one word to me unless you please--we are old enough friends for that, I should think."

There were but few persons in the large library, at one end of which a table had been set out, where servants dispensed tea and coffee during the evening, and the cousins placed themselves on a leather-covered couch near the fire at the opposite end. True to his undertaking, Colonel Fitzwilliam remained silent after he had established his cousin in comfort, and screened the blaze from her face; but after a few minutes, Georgiana roused herself, thinking anything better than being left to her own reflections, and suddenly recollecting a thing that she had intended to tell Elizabeth, had she been able to see her alone during the day, and deciding that there could be no harm in communicating it to Colonel Fitzwilliam herself, she mentioned having learnt the fact of Mr. Bertram's acquaintance with Miss Crawford, and asked if her cousin happened to know it.

He admitted himself informed, but expressed interest, as he himself had not discussed it with Mr. Bertram.

Georgiana therefore ventured to give him Mr. Bertram's description of her, and pointed out rather timidly that it seemed to agree entirely with what they already knew and had heard.

"Yes," said Colonel Fitzwilliam thoughtfully; and after a pause, he added: "I am glad he spoke so well of her--glad she had an advocate in him, for, as you may have gathered from what he dropped with regard to her brother, it would not be surprising if the Bertram family were a little prejudiced against all the Crawfords. I am glad that he, at least, has the manliness to award blame only where blame is due."

Georgiana listened attentively, half expecting that her cousin would go on to explain the nature of the prejudice against the Crawfords, which had clearly done Miss Crawford so much harm; but he did not, so after a little she hazarded the remark: "He did not seem to know anything about her of late years, so I thought it useless to ask about her marriage."

"You were right; it would have been useless," said the Colonel. "Elizabeth, I know, troubles herself a good deal about not having heard any particulars, but doubtless the world will be informed all in good time, and when there is any news, one may expect it will penetrate even to Derbyshire." He smiled as he spoke, but it was not a cheerful smile, and his voice had the ring of something very like bitterness. Georgiana's heart ached for him; she felt that never before had she known what a disappointment could be.

Colonel Fitzwilliam talked of other things, until they were interrupted by Tom Bertram, who came hurrying in search of them to ask Miss Darcy to dance with him again. "Miss Darcy--so sorry you are tired, but you positively must allow me just these two. People are beginning to go, actually! and, you know, when that happens, a ball always begins to lose some of its spirit. Besides, who knows when we shall have another such a delightful evening as this again? I have been telling Mr. and Mrs. Bingley I can never sufficiently thank them for having brought me here." Georgiana suffered him to lead her to the dance, and to go on talking, for she was quite unequal to arguing with him. At the conclusion of the two dances, Elizabeth, who had been watching her, came up and asked her if she would not like to retire at once, and fortified by this permission, Georgiana turned to say good-night to her partner, whose protests against her disappearance were as strong as the polite Tom Bertram could make them.

"Why, Miss Darcy, if you remove yourself, the ball may as well break up; and it is really cruel to make me say good-night, when it is good-bye as well."

"Is it? Do you start so early to-morrow? I am very sorry," said Georgiana, with an effort at the cordiality which seemed expected of her.

"We do, indeed; some wild idea of my cousin's, I fancy, that it will take us all day to get to Mansfield, even going round Desborough to meet the curricle. It will not; but Mr. Bingley has just informed me that William wishes to start not a moment later than eight, and you ladies, I fear, are not likely to be on the scene at such an unearthly hour?"

"No, indeed," said Elizabeth, "after such dissipations as charades and a ball, it will be remarkable if any of us are able to leave our rooms for a week. You do not realize what quiet people we are here ordinarily, Mr. Bertram." She chatted on, and under cover of it, Georgiana managed to say a brief adieu and glide away. Could she avoid seeing Mr. Price again? No! he was standing by the foot of the stairs; he seemed to be watching for her; there was no escape. Her head was averted, and her foot placed on the lowest step, when he started forward, and not offering to shake hands, but in a low voice and a look of intense earnestness, he said: "May I say good-bye to you, Miss Darcy?"

Georgiana hardly knew if her "Good-bye, Mr. Price," was audible; but he bowed, and stepped back, his eyes following her as she went up the stairs.