Old friends and new fancies

by Sybil G. Brinton

[Chapter XXV]

To Elizabeth and Georgiana, the events of the evening seemed like a dreadful dream. Less than an hour ago they had been sitting at their occupations, as tranquil and secure as if disaster did not exist; and now the bolt had fallen, scattering them and bringing to each its message of terror and dismay. Georgiana felt as if it would be the hardest matter in the world to settle to any pretence of the ordinary life again, until news reached them from her brother; she longed to be able to be alone, to think it all over quietly, or to go to Elizabeth, to hear the result of her appeal to Miss Crawford, and instead she was obliged to establish herself in the drawing-room with Mr. Bertram, who showed no sign of wishing to go to bed, but was evidently prepared to sit up talking and drinking tea until midnight.

Georgiana took out her embroidery frame, and prepared to be as agreeable a listener as she could, for she expected Elizabeth, who had gone to Miss Crawford, would come back at any minute, and she really felt more than a common measure of gratitude to Mr. Bertram for the service he had rendered them. This gratitude she again endeavoured to express, when Mr. Bertram began discussing the heavy state of the roads, and the consequent delays to which Darcy might be subjected.

"Pray do not name it, Miss Darcy; as I said, I am only too glad to have been of the slightest assistance. It was a mere chance that I was there, for I should have returned home this week, but the open weather tempted me to stay on for a day or two longer."

"It was indeed fortunate for us, for we should have had no information until to-morrow, if we had had to wait for a letter."

Tom Bertram repeated that he "was very glad," looking into the fire in an absent-minded way that Georgiana scarcely noticed, so absorbed was she in her thoughts. She paid but little more attention when he suddenly rose, stationed himself with his back to the fire, and a little nearer her, and began to speak, apparently on the same topic, for in the first few minutes she could only gather an impression of his sharing in the events following the accident; his telling Mr. Ashley that he was a friend of Colonel Fitzwilliam's, and knew all his relatives, and would be the fittest person to bear the news to them; of Mr. Ashley's heartily agreeing, and of his haste to get home and order his carriage and start. The narrative went on, Georgiana hearing very little after Leicestershire was left behind, for her thoughts had lingered with the poor sufferer there, when, with a start, she became aware that all this was directed at her, that Mr. Bertram was trying to explain that he had welcomed the opportunity of hurrying to Pemberley, because it would doing her and her family a service, than which he could have no greater satisfaction, and because it would afford him the privilege of being in her presence once more. Georgiana, amazed and horrified, endeavoured to stop him; but Tom was not to be prevented from making a speech which he had been rehearsing for at least four hours on his journey. Some words which fell from her lips, an appeal to have some respect for this sad occasion, which she had snatched at as the argument most likely to move him, were of no avail. That he could address her at such a time he immediately pointed out to be a proof of his ardour, which merited pardon by reason of its unquenchable nature, for he had intended, he explained, to wait until he came to Desborough at the end of the month, and then to have sought an interview, but his impatience to throw himself at her feet and declare his passion would brook no delay.

Nothing could have been more distasteful to Georgiana than such sentiments. To hear the words "admiration" and "devotion" uttered by Mr. Bertram was not only an outrage upon the present hour, occupied as it was with the gravest solicitude for the life of a friend, but also upon the past, when similar words had been spoken to her by William Price. From no one else could she bear to hear them; coming from his cousin, she could almost have called them an insult. Of course, he could not know that, but it almost seemed like trading upon having placed them under an obligation to him, that he should presume to speak in a manner so repugnant to her. Too vexed to choose her words, when Mr. Bertram stopped for breath, having brought his peroration to a close by an offer in correct form of his hand and heart, she replied coldly that she was much honoured by his proposals, but it was entirely out of her power to accept them. Bertram had not expected a favourable reply on the instant, but he had hardly expected so decisive an unfavorable one. He stepped forward with outstretched hands, and an eager, "But, Miss Darcy—" to which her only response was to move haughtily away, and at that moment, to the relief of the lady and the chagrin of the gentleman, Elizabeth entered the room. Only the good manners habitual to both could have helped them to carry off the situation. Tom Bertram, checked in one of his flights of eloquence, descended to earth again with an observation on the weather, and for the next few minutes the temperature and the prospects of rain were debated with great earnestness.

Elizabeth could hardly have failed to guess what kind of interview she had interrupted, and out of compassion to Georgiana she soon recommended her to go to bed. The young girl needed no second bidding; Bertram opened the door to her with great ceremony, which was acknowledged by the slightest of bows, and she gladly sought the shelter of her room, astonished to find that it was not more than half-past nine o'clock. Could it be possible that it was barely two hours since Mr. Bertram's arrival? Would this interminable evening, with its shocks, surprises and disturbances, and yet more surprises, ever draw to a close? Georgiana was so unnerved that she sat down and shed a few tears, but a few only, for with such a real grief ever present, she could not spare much consideration for Mr. Bertram's unwelcome attack. It had been bewildering and annoying, but she was not going to worry about it. He had acted on some silly impulse, and could not possibly be serious. He scarcely knew her—a week's acquaintance, and he talked of heartfelt devotion, and expected her to be ready to listen to such nonsense! She could not conceive what had actuated him, and resented greatly that merely because he was heir to a title and fortune, and had ridden forty-five miles in a great hurry, he should suppose himself to be an acceptable suitor. Some expressions he had used, showing that he was confident of having the approval of her family, roused her special indignation. If only she had not so unluckily been alone with him—if Mrs. Grant had not gone upstairs!

Mrs. Grant! Georgiana started violently, for until that moment she had completely forgotten the association of Mr. Bertram with their two guests. She had supposed Mary's agitation to be caused merely by the news of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and now perceived that the sight of the messenger must have been painful enough apart from all else. What miserable complications had resulted from the fact that it should have been Tom Bertram, of all their acquaintance, who had happened to be hunting with the Belvoir hounds that day! But she could not wish his deed of kindness undone, nor she believed could Miss Crawford, or anyone else, whatever the present inconvenience to themselves, for everything was unimportant compared with what his coming had effected; and now, it would not matter if only he would go away again immediately. Georgiana sat meditating schemes by which she, Mary and Mrs. Grant might all avoid seeing him again, when a knock at her door was followed by the entrance of Elizabeth.

"Yes, Georgiana," Elizabeth said, smiling in response to the girl's shy glance, "Mr. Bertram has made me his confidante. I am sorry if you were upset, my dear; he seems to be afraid it was something of a surprise to you, but he hopes you will take time, and do him the honour of thinking it over."