Old friends and new fancies

by Sybil G. Brinton

The same subject absorbed the attention of the two ladies she had just left. Mrs. Jennings could not refrain from recounting to her hostess the conjecture she had instantly founded upon her knowledge of Mr. Bertram's existence; and though Mrs. Ferrars was well acquainted with her friend's flights of imagination, she had no positive arguments to array against this one, and was obliged to content herself with urging Mrs. Jennings to let no hint drop of her suspicions until something should occur to confirm them, as it would be so painful for both the young people. Mrs. Jennings promised caution, at the same time being evidently unwilling to relinquish an idea that pleased her so much, and Mrs. Ferrars perceived that it would be necessary to repeat the warnings very often before the following evening, when her friend and her husband would go to the Pemberley ball without her, as she dreaded over-fatigue; on the first evening, the occasion of the charades, she intended to be present, and hoped to be able to control and check Mrs. Jennings's remarks, should they threaten to become embarrassing. Knowing her intense and freely-expressed interest in her fellow-creatures, Mrs. Jennings's friends would have been glad to bargain for not more than one love affair to be in progress at one time under her eyes!

The arrival of the party from Desborough could not fail to bring, even to dignified Pemberley, a pleasant sense of bustle and excitement; and in the first flood of greetings, introductions, and inquiries, Elizabeth and her husband were only aware of a generally agreeable impression of Mr. Bingley's two young guests; of Tom Bertram, good-looking, fashionable, easy and talkative, and of William Price, with his shorter, sturdier figure, fine open countenance, and manners which, with no want of animation, yet attracted by their quiet simplicity. Even in the short time since the two sets of friends had been parted, a great deal seemed to have happened which must be talked over. Bingley wished to narrate, to anyone who would listen to him, the wonderful achievements of his shooting-party yesterday, who had accounted for an incredible number of pheasants; Mr. Bertram had taken possession of Georgiana, in order to propound to her at great length a scheme for altering and improving several of the charade scenes; and William Price, who was somehow established on a settee by Kitty, was telling her how far he had succeeded in the task she had bequeathed to him, of endeavouring to teach Mrs. Bingley's parrot to talk. The whole party were comfortably disposed round the drawing-room fire, and looked like remaining there until it was time to dress for dinner; but Tom Bertram, not satisfied with explaining, wished to demonstrate, and presently asked if he might see the acting-room, after which he was not long in requesting the presence of his whole company there, to see if they understood their movements and positions on the new stage. Kitty had undertaken to show him all their preparations, and had carried off William Price with her, and Bingley followed, with many good-humoured grumblings, summoning his sister, who was not anxious to break off conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam, in the course of which she was examining him closely as to his reasons for quitting London so abruptly in the summer. It was necessary, however, to assert her position as leading lady, so she joined the others, Georgiana slipping in with her, and watching for opportunities to make herself useful, while in the intervals she put the final stitches in a head-dress for Kitty. Mrs. Bingley was allowed to excuse herself, pleading fatigue, and the presence of a sufficiently large number of persons at this informal rehearsal, a reason fully justified by the bursts of laughter and sounds of prolonged argument which occasionally penetrated through the folding doors.

When, after a hasty toilet, the actors returned to the saloon, the dinner guests had already arrived. Kitty was so distressingly conscious of the confidences she had so freely given, that she kept in the background while the two young men were being introduced to Mrs. Jennings, and avoided meeting her eye. Mrs. Jennings shook hands with them both warmly, and congratulated them upon having discovered such a delightful form of amusement for themselves and the young ladies as acting charades, these long evenings.

"Madam," returned Tom Bertram, with a bow, "let us hope that the amusement will not be entirely on the side of the performers, since the hard work is not the exclusive share of the spectators."

"Oh, law, Mr. Bertram, you quite mistake me; as to amusement, I can assure you it will be the greatest treat to me and Mrs. Ferrars; but you must admit that the hard work is not just the sort a young fellow gets soon tired of, is it, now?"

"You think so, because you cannot see behind the scenes, Mrs. Jennings," interposed William Price, assuming an air of solemnity; "I do not imagine my cousin would care to have command of a troupe of actors, such as we are, for long together; you have no conception of what amount of trouble we give him, I mean, the unruly ones."

Mrs. Jennings highly appreciated the allusion which she supposed these words to contain, and tapping William on the arm with her fan, she exclaimed: "Ay, ay, Mr. Price, I understand you, but you and Mr. Bertram will have the whip-hand by and by, and then you can get some of your own back."

"I am sure Mr. Bertram is an excellent stage-manager," said Mrs. Ferrars, who had not heard all that passed, but judged by Mr. Price's puzzled look, and Mrs. Jennings's laughter, that it was time to intervene; "I cannot think how you have been able to work up your charades and be ready for an audience within so short a time."

"It can only be proved that the charades are sufficiently worked up, when we see whether the audience are sufficiently perplexed by them," said Bingley. "If you guess the words at once, we shall feel that we have utterly failed."

"Do not overestimate our intellects, my dear Bingley," said his host. "As Mrs. Jennings says, these charades are sport to you, and as a natural consequence they are presumably death to us."