My aunt then called to me – she has come across some miniatures, one of which bore a resemblance to Mr. Wickham. The housekeeper came forward, and told us, “he is now gone into the army, but I am afraid he has turned out very wild.”
. What reason did Mrs. Reynolds have to lie about Wickham? She has corroborated Darcy’s story in one sentence. My heart sank; I at once Wickham had lied to me. It was true therefore I had reproached Darcy on previous occasions for his behaviour without just cause.
She pointed to another one of the miniatures. It was a portrait of Mr. Darcy. My aunt asked me if it bore a likeness to the original. I replied it did, and then the housekeeper asked me, “And do you not think him a very handsome gentleman, Ma’am?”
We began to discuss whether Darcy would marry in the future, when Mrs. Reynolds declared, “I do not know when that will be. I do not know who is good enough for him.”
I thought this perhaps going a bit far in praising him, but the woman read my countenance and said, “I say no more than the truth…I have never heard a cross word from him in all my life, and I have known him since he was four.” I grew more and more astonished as she detailed the benevolence of Darcy as a master, landlord, friend and brother.
Impressed as I was, my aunt voiced her thoughts thus, “Perhaps we might be deceived.” But I knew otherwise- I said simply,
“That is not likely, our authority is too good.”
Further on in our tour, in the picture gallery, I came upon a portrait of Mr. Darcy himself. It was a sight to be seen surely, and I never felt more gentle sensation towards the original. The smile he bore was one I recognised, the one I saw when he looked at me.
I then began to reflect…everything his housekeeper had told us was entirely favourable. Was this really the haughty, arrogant Darcy I had known? Indeed the impression garnered bore such striking contrast to some of Darcy’s previous behaviour, that I when I thought of his sentiment toward some I felt an even warmer gratitude.
We were just walking round to the front of the house, when the owner of the grand house suddenly came from behind the stables. We both blushed deeply at once. He reminded silent and completely still for a moment, and then regained his composure and spoke to me with perfect civility.
My aunt and uncle stood apart from us, watching as I spoke with my head down, astonished and confused. Why had he come? We had been told that he would not be at Pemberley, as he was in town. Surely he would think that I was simply perusing his mansion that I might see what I could have owned. He enquired after my family, the time I had left Longbourn, my stay in Derbyshire, and so on. Eventually, he could not find the words to make any more conversation; and after several tense moments, he walked away.
Oh why, why, why? Why had I come to Pemberley, I thought. My face glowed with shame and mortification. What would his opinion of me be now? If we had only come ten minutes later, I could have avoided him, and the disgrace which had been brought on me…
We then entered into a walk beside the stream, and although my aunt and uncle pointed out many beautiful things which caught their attention, I could not appreciate them, for my mind was so full of thoughts about Darcy. I thought perhaps that he was civil to me because, despite all that had happened, he still regarded me with some affection. But my humility led to believe that he had only behaved thus as he felt himself at ease in Pemberley.
We were about to leave, when Mr. Darcy approached us again. I began to praise Pemberley, but then I perceived that my remarks might be misconstrued. So I said no more.
He then asked my quietly if I might introduce him to my friends. This was a display of friendliness which I had not been expecting.
