“And it is not so,” said Kitty, not as a question but as a conclusion; yet she did not appear greatly troubled by the idea of a marriage without love—at least not so much as Jane or Elizabeth herself.
Perhaps Lydia’s influence had brought some small advantage; Lydia viewed life in a simpler, more practical manner. To her, it signified more that a man should be handsome and love her than anything besides. The dreams of her elder sisters she considered folly.
“If anyone were to ask me, I should marry,” said Kitty simply, and with a strange determination, as though she had long considered the matter.
“But you must, of course, consult Mama and our aunts first. Even if there is not a great love, the man you marry must be respectable, must have an affection for you, and…” Elizabeth hesitated to utter the sentence her mother so often repeated; yet, in their present situation, it was too true.
“And?” insisted Kitty, eager to hear Elizabeth’s opinion to the end, which she now held in particular regard.
“And that man must have the means to secure you a comfortable life,” Elizabeth added, with some shame, yet resolved to consider that claim for her own future as well.
“Would you marry, if someone were to ask you?” Kitty enquired, not looking at her, somewhat shy, since such subjects had never before passed between them. Elizabeth coloured deeply. Her embarrassment was touched with guilt because she had once had the opportunity to marry…perhaps not in love, but certainly to an honourable man who loved her, and whom she respected. In Kent, other considerations had obscured her judgement. She had been so angry at the arrogance with which he had slighted her family, and at his share in Jane’s unhappiness; but now, three months later, and with her father’s death between them, everything appeared so altered.
“Why are you silent?” Kitty insisted, drawing her from her thoughts.
Elizabeth sighed; she would not deceive her. Falsehood was foreign to her nature, she could not pretend that she would marry without affection.
“I shall be sincere with you. I still believe in love and consider the feelings necessary for a marriage; but if an honourable and sensible man were now to ask me in marriage, I should reflect most seriously, and…”
“And?”
“And it is possible I might accept him…if I saw in his countenance that he loved me.”
Was it a falsehood? If so it was the first serious one of her life. She did not know; yet she hoped it was not. She hoped she might possess the strength to view life with somewhat less sentiment. In a curious manner, this was not an idle reflection, since not many months before Fitzwilliam Darcy had asked her to be his wife. And as she withdrew from the turmoil of those moments, and calm settled over those recollections, she found herself questioning whether love is indeed the sole condition of a happy marriage.
With this dilemma in her mind, they arrived in Derby, resolved to unravel the mystery; but in the whirl of her exceedingly warm reception, the cheerful smile of Mrs Cooper, and the two children who almost danced about her, the question faded, for life suddenly offered her something new, and for the first time since her father’s death, Elizabeth smiled with contentment, her former perplexity softened, if not resolved.
Chapter 11
“Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth and Mrs Cooper turned at the same moment towards the male voice that had addressed them, with a surprise equal to that which marked their countenances.
Who could know Elizabeth in Derby? The question did not long remain.
It was Mr Darcy.
In an instant, all was clear to Elizabeth. Derby lay in Derbyshire, where stood the delightful estate of Pemberley, Mr Darcy’s own.
“Good heavens,” thought Elizabeth, “how came I not to remember?”
Yet even had she remembered, such a meeting was so little to be expected that her astonishment, rather than diminishing, increased.
Mr Darcy removed his hat and bowed, in a manner at once assured and elegant; she remembered it with unexpected pleasure.
“Mr Darcy!” said Elizabeth at last, and curtsied, making no attempt to conceal her shock. She then turned to Mrs Cooper. “Allow me to introduce Mr Darcy.”
And that the surprise might be complete, Mrs Cooper smiled. “I know Mr Darcy. I lived until I was twenty in Lambton, which lies but a few miles from your home, Pemberley.”
“Indeed, Pemberley is but a few miles from Lambton, and we often go there. Pray excuse me, I do not recall our acquaintance,” he replied.
Elizabeth wondered whether he were discomposed or merely embarrassed by the meeting, since he appeared as reserved as she remembered him in Kent.
“I do not believe we were ever formally introduced, but Pemberley is a place which all have visited at least once. It is superb.”
“Thank you,” said Darcy, bowing again. “Do you reside here at present?” he asked, looking at her, yet soon turning his eyes towards Elizabeth.
“Yes, but a few houses further on,” Mrs Cooper answered, indicating with a discreet gesture a house upon the street, one of the most elegant in Derby.
