Old friends and new fancies

by Sybil G. Brinton

Such a letter could not all at once be realized, or recovered from. Mary Crawford tried to utter some words of thanks, but tears impeded her speech. Only when the joy burst upon her was she fully conscious of all the misery of the last few months; the light served to make the darkness more visible. Looking back upon the mists of pride, of resentfulness, and misunderstanding, from which she had emerged, it seemed almost incredible for a time that she had reached the clearer air, the sunshine of love and mutual comprehension. She longed to turn to her kind friend, to talk freely with her, over all that had seemed puzzling, and when, after a very few anxious days, better accounts from Leicestershire began to come in, and the gloom lifted, they could venture to let their minds dwell on hopeful possibilities once more. It was satisfactory that the whole situation was already known to the other members of their little party, and that Georgiana, as well as Mrs. Grant, could freely offer the affection and sympathy of a sister.

"Mrs. Darcy," said Mary one day, "I am possessed with a curiosity to know which you think worst of me for—my keeping Colonel Fitzwilliam at arm's length while in London, or my confession of weakness the other day, after the bold assertions I made when you spoke to me during our walk?"

"Indeed, I do not think ill of you for any of those things," returned Elizabeth; "they seem to me to have been most natural; but what do I think was a little bit foolish, was your allowing Sir Walter Elliot to be so attentive that the world concluded you were engaged. Your friends ought to have warned you that it might deter persons you really esteemed from approaching you."

"I was afraid you were going to say something about that!" exclaimed Miss Crawford, holding her hands to her ears in mock dismay. "I quite expect that Colonel Fitzwilliam and I shall spend some hours in violent mutual recrimination when he arrives, and that will be one of our subjects. But, seriously, Mrs. Darcy, although I know now it was unpardonably foolish, I was not conscious then of the comments that were being made. Our friendship with the Elliots had quite another aspect for me, other possibilities connected with my brother—but that will not interest you. I tolerated Sir Walter Elliot, but I never liked him, and I never thought of him as having any serious intentions, until a good-natured friend, Mrs. Palmer, called to congratulate me on my supposed engagement. By the way, she told me that her mother, Mrs. Jennings, had meant to come by with her, but had been prevented; I did not know the worthy Mrs. Jennings then, but since I have met her I have felt thankful she was not present on that occasion; it would have been rather overwhelming."

"She must have been sorry to miss such an opportunity," said Elizabeth, with a smile.

"Yes, poor Mrs. Jennings! But congratulations on a thing that has not happened are rather difficult to receive at any time, are they not? From that moment, I do assure you, I got a horrid fright, and determined to change my attitude towards Sir Walter Elliot completely. I must have been partly successful, for it precipitated things to such an extent—at all events, the result was not agreeable. It really was a wretched time! and Colonel Fitzwilliam disappeared and no one knew where or why."

Elizabeth had long realized that her cousin had not been the only sufferer in the past year, and she knew that Miss Crawford's lively manner of talking was often assumed to hide deeper emotions. She truly rejoiced that whatever fears and anxieties might have to be endured before the lovers met again, nothing could shake the foundations of their happiness.

After about ten days, Darcy's letters made it clear that the danger was past, and steady, if slow, progress might be looked for. He was, of course, quite unable to visit, and Georgiana, who had written to Mrs. Wentworth to postpone her visit, consulted Elizabeth as to whether it would be better to abandon it altogether, but Elizabeth thought that it would be unnecessary to do so, and also a pity, for Georgiana's sake, and Darcy, on being applied to give his consent to her journeying to London with the escort of two servants, as had been originally proposed.

The plan, therefore, was to stand. A date was arranged with Captain Wentworth, and on a cold windy evening of the second week in February, Mr. Darcy's carriage with Mr. Darcy's sister, drove up to the hotel in St. James's Street where her host was to meet her. The said carriage was to return through Leicestershire, for it was hoped, that, in the course of the next few days, Colonel Fitzwilliam might be well enough to be brought back in it to Pemberley.

The inclement weather, solitude, and fatigue had sent Georgiana's spirits down to a low ebb as she looked out at the wet streets, and recalled her last visit to London, under such very different circumstances. It was impossible for her not to be thinking of William Price, and the occasion when they had been together there, and wondering if he was in town at that minute. She would have liked to know that he was, even though it was so utterly improbable that they should meet, since neither of them could know what the other's movements were. Such thoughts were bad companions for Georgiana, but the arrival of Captain Wentworth, kind and cheerful as ever, and with the heartiest of welcomes, did much to disperse the gloom, and he proved such an enlivening companion on the following day that when they reached Winchester in time for a late dinner, she did not feel as bad as if she had been travelling for so many hours.