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As they drove to the Gardiners’ door, Jack was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival. When they entered the passage, he was there to welcome them, and Elliot, looking earnestly at his face, was pleased to see it as healthful and lovely as ever. They embraced one another, both overjoyed to be together once more.
On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls, whose eagerness for their cousin’s appearance would not allow them to wait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen him for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower.
All was joy and kindness.
The day passed most pleasantly away. The morning in bustle and shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres. Elliot was happy and later that evening he contrived to sit by his favoured uncle so he could catch up on all the London news. Their first item to be discussed was Jack, and Elliot was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to his inquiries, that though Jack was embracing all London had to offer, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, to hope that they would not continue long. Mr. Robert Gardiner also gave Elliot the particulars of a visit from Caroline Bingley to Gracechurch Street, which was far from being successful and had convinced Jack to give up the acquaintance entirely.
“It was quite proper for me to be there,” Mr. Gardiner said. “But I was at a loss to understand why she had even visited. She was almost rude!”
Elliot was both pleased and saddened to hear that. Pleased to have the odious Caroline Bingley out of their lives but sad that Jack’s final connection to Mr. Bingley was now decidedly severed. They also discussed Mr. Wickham’s pursuit of the newly fortuned Miss King, and Mr. Gardiner was unsurprised to hear of it.
“I should be sorry to think our friend mercenary,” he said. “But I wonder if there is a difference in mercenary and prudent motives in the end? Where does discretion end, and avarice begin?”
“The talk in Meryton is that he only showed interest in her once she inherited her fortune,” Elliot said slowly.
“Is that not always the way?” Mr. Gardiner asked.
“Yes, but it does lessen my opinion of him,” Elliot said. “Though I am not sure my opinion was very favourable anyway towards the end. Mr. Wickham seemed to be quite shallow.”
“Many men are,” Mr. Gardiner said.
“I fear I am beginning to have a very poor opinion of young men in general,” Elliot said. “Myself and Jack not included!”
Mr. Gardiner laughed. “Take care, Elliot, those words savour strongly of disappointment.”
Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, Elliot had the unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany his uncles in a tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer. “We have not determined how far it shall carry us but, perhaps, to the Lakes.”
No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elliot, his acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful, and he left for Hunsford the next day in excellent spirits. He enjoyed the drive through the English countryside, taking in the sights. Sir William did as well and when they left the high road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in eager search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view. They reached a long, winding road and soon realised that Rosings Park was their boundary on one side. Elliot’s smile dimmed slightly at the recollection of all that he had heard of its inhabitants, and he had to make a concerted effort to put that smile back in place.
He managed it by the time the Parsonage came into view, the garden sloping to the road, the house standing in it, surrounded by beautiful greenery which declared spring was well on its way. Mr. Collins and Charlie appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at the small gate which led by a short gravel walk to the house. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing at the sight of each other. Charlie welcomed his friend with the liveliest pleasure, and Elliot did the same.
Mr. Collins gave one of his formal little bows before detaining Elliot at the gate to hear and satisfy his inquiries after all the family. It was curious but Elliot believed those inquiries to be genuine and he therefore entered the parsonage satisfied with this marriage and his friend’s and cousin’s happiness.
They were then taken into the house where they were given a tour of its splendours, and it was a splendid little house, full of neat furniture and interesting treasures. After sitting long enough to be given refreshments, to admire every article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to the fender, and then to give an account of their journey, and of all that had happened in London, Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the garden. It was large and well laid out, and to the cultivation of which he attended himself. To work in this garden was one of his most respectable pleasures, he said, and Elliot grinned when Charlie talked of the healthfulness of the exercise and that he encouraged his husband to spend as much time outdoors as possible.
“We have only a small collection of animals,” Mr. Collins said. “But my husband has taken them under his wing and the chickens have never laid so many eggs, the goats never produced so much milk, and the pigs are fatter than I have ever seen them!”
He led them through the gardens, pointing out every view, numbering the fields in every direction and even the trees in the most distant clump. But of all the views which his garden, or which the country or kingdom could boast, none were to be compared with the prospect of Rosings, afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered the park nearly opposite the front of his house.
It was a handsome modern building, well situated on rising ground. Elliot took a moment to admire it, given everything he knew about the occupants. Darcy’s aunt…how often did he visit her, if at all?
“Mr. Darcy rarely visits Rosings,” Charlie said, picking up on Elliot’s thoughts as he had always done. He took Elliot’s arm and walked with him to the boundary of the garden. “The last time was more than twelvemonth ago.”
“I wonder why,” Elliot asked.
Charlie shrugged. “He is a busy man.”
“Not too busy to spend many months idling in Netherfield with Mr. Bingley!”
“I think Mr. Bingley was a special case though,” Charlie said with a laugh. “Their friendship being so long and so lasting.”
“Like our own,” Elliot said, and Charlie smiled.
“I have missed you, Elliot.”
“And I you.”
Their friendship had indeed been a long one, and Elliot was well pleased to see that a distance of miles and months had not changed it.
