Pride and Prejudice and Kitties, стр. 24
Over the next week or two, the travelers passed through many remarkable towns, most notably Kennelworth (just the place, thought Elizabeth, to send Lydia if she misbehaved at Brighton).
As they neared the home of Mrs. Gardiner’s kittenhood, Elizabeth learned that Pemberley was but five miles away.
“I would so like to visit Pemberley, of all things,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “You, too, my love,” she said to Elizabeth, “must be anxious to see a place you’ve heard talked of so much. Wickham passed all his youth there.”
Elizabeth stared wide-eyed at her aunt. What should she do? She certainly had no business sniffing around Pemberley after what had passed between her and its master. Mr. Darcy might even pick up her scent! But after inquiring at the inn and learning that Darcy and his sister were not at Pemberley for the summer, she declared herself willing enough to visit the great estate.
To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.
Elizabeth ... felt that she had no business at Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She must own that she was tired of great houses; after going over so many, she really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains.
Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. “If it were merely a fine house richly furnished,” said she, “I should not care about it myself; but the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the country.”
VOLUME III
As THEY TURNED in at the lodge at Pemberley, Elizabeth jumped up on the carriage box to get a better view of the prospect before her. The woods were broad and lush; how she longed to get out for a good scratch in the dirt! But a moment later her attention was arrested by the house itself—a large, splendid dwelling on rising ground. She noticed with pleasure that the valleys, woods, and hills surrounding it were unspoiled by human improvement (or what humans call “improvement”). All was artless and natural. At that moment Elizabeth could not help reflecting that to be mistress of Pemberley would really be something!
The housekeeper was a respectable elderly cat who invited them in and gave them a tour of the house, which, Elizabeth noted with admiration, had more elegance and less ostentatious splendor than Rosings. Even the scratching posts showed more real taste (and also more use) than those at Rosings. Elizabeth supposed that was because Lady Cat preferred to use Charlotte Lucas, or whoever else might be at hand, to sharpen her claws on.
Her aunt called Elizabeth to look at a picture. Elizabeth approached and saw a handsome likeness of the whiskered Wickham.
“Ah,” said the housekeeper, “that is Mr. Wickham, the son of my late master’s top mouser. He is now gone into the army,” she added. “But I am afraid he has turned out very wild.”
I am afraid he has turned out very wild.
In contrast, the housekeeper purred audibly when she described Mr. Darcy’s virtues—his generosity with cats of lesser territory, his affection for his sister, and his kindness to every cat in his employ. This was praise indeed and placed him in a very amiable light.
“This account of Mr. Darcy,” her aunt whispered to her, “is not consistent with his behavior to poor Wickham.”
“Perhaps we may have been deceived,” replied Elizabeth.
The housekeeper pointed out with pride a window perch that Mr. Darcy had fitted up especially for his sister. And in the picture gallery, Elizabeth beheld a portrait of Mr. Darcy and gazed up at the handsome face in earnest contemplation. She had never felt so warmly towards the original as she did at that moment. Whether it was the catnip the housekeeper offered the guests that made her roll on the carpet, or the gratitude she felt when she thought of Mr. Darcy’s former regard for her, she could not tell.
When they had looked over the house, Elizabeth and the Gardiners slipped out the back door to explore the grounds. They were ambling across the broad lawn towards the river, when the master himself appeared not twenty yards away.
For a moment both Elizabeth and Darcy stood perfectly still, staring at each other. Darcy blinked first. Then, much to Elizabeth’s surprise, he greeted her and made himself most agreeable. His manner, his meows, even his arrogance seemed to have softened since their encounter at Hunsford. Elizabeth hardly knew what to attribute it to! He asked to be introduced to her aunt and uncle and they touched noses very graciously. Was this really the same Mr. Darcy who had asked for her paw in marriage with so little civility and so much insolent pride?
What can it mean? wondered Elizabeth. Is it possible that he should still love me?
Mr. Darcy trotted along beside her as they explored the grounds. He told Elizabeth of the Bingleys’ and Georgiana’s expected arrival at Pemberley the next day. He wished particularly to have the honor of introducing her to his sister.
They stood together on the lawn, waiting for Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle who were walking more slowly (Mr. Gardiner having stopped, at Mr. Darcy’s invitation, to snag a small fish in the pond). The silence becoming awkward, Elizabeth talked of Cheshire and Kennelworth, of catching moles and chasing squirrels.
The visit ended with the utmost cordiality and a lively curiosity on Elizabeth’s side to meet the sister of whom she had heard so much.
In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have little to fix the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked in quest of the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it arrested her—and she beheld a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy, with such a smile over the face, as she remembered to have some times 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