More Letters From Pemberley (12 page)

And so it was. We found my Father at your side reading aloud, the sight of which brought tears to my eyes, tears of gratitude for the devotion of my family mingled with tears of sorrow for the pale figure who was my strong, vital Husband, whom I miss to the very depths of my soul.

Jane, he lives! He is awake! I can scarce believe this is not a dream, but as Mr. Brownley and Kitty and my Father all assure me it is true, I am sure I shall believe it myself before long. Please tell Annie that her dearest Papa has awoken, that he has seen the drawing she left for him, that he longs to see her. Tell her that our Family will be as before, no, better, for our near-loss will surely strengthen our love for one another. Oh, Jane, am I making sense? You will know exactly what to tell Annie and I leave it in your hands to put rightly.

But the particulars. You will want the particulars. Very early this morning, I was awoken by one of Mr. Darcy’s nurses knocking at the door, telling me to come immediately. Assuming he had taken a turn for the worse, I ran to his room before she could say another word, and you will imagine my utter astonishment when I tell you that he was sitting up in bed, eyes open, demanding to be told what was going on! (It was his turn to be astonished when he found out how long he had been lying unconscious and that he had given us all great cause for alarm.) I sent for Mr. Brownley instantly and meanwhile attempted to tell my Husband of the storm, the accident, the injuries, his horse, &c., &c. He had no recollection of any of it, but given his seeming comprehension of what I related, I was hopeful of his being of sound mind. Once Mr. Brownley arrived, he, too, was of the same opinion. We are thus reassured that after he has regained full strength (which may well be a matter of several weeks) he will be fully restored to good health. Is that not wonderful news? He was able to take a little broth, then slept for several hours—a harrowing time, for we wondered how long it might be before he woke again—was this merely an aberration? Were our hopes to be dashed? We all breathed a collective sigh of relief when he finally awoke again. (Mr. Brownley advises us to awaken him ourselves, if necessary, and to administer broth frequently to build his strength.)

I have not left his side since and write to you from the little desk I set up in this room an eternity ago. He tires easily but for a few minutes during the wakeful periods, I read from the journal I began shortly after the accident (though omit the most distressing parts which he may read for himself when he is able.)

Mrs. Reynolds brought the good news to church this morning and I ordered the bells to be rung—never have they announced gladder tidings!

A kiss for my darling Annie and my dearest love to you, precious Sister,
E.D.

Dearest Mamma,

I send this express so that you may know with all that my Husband awoke from his long slumber yesterday morning. Beyond his bodily weakness, which will improve as he is able to take more nourishment, he appears none the worse for the injuries to his head.

Kitty has undertaken to furnish the particulars, but I wanted you to receive the good news from my own hand. I feel sure you will share our great relief, and enormous gratitude for his deliverance.

We are all otherwise well. Annie is at The Great House with Jane. My Father and Kitty have been sources of great strength to me during this time of great difficulty and I have been grateful for their support and good company. Now that we are assured of Mr. Darcy’s eventual recovery, I have urged them both not to delay a planned visit to the Bingleys on the 17th. My Father will likely depart for Longbourn from The Great House, but please allow me to ask if Kitty might be permitted to return to Pemberley? It will be some time before Mr. Darcy is quite well again and Kitty’s continued presence here will be a great help and comfort to us. It would also thus be in her power to accompany Annie on her journey home. My Father has given his permission, and I hope I may depend on your gracious approbation as well, dearest Mamma.

I trust this letter will find you in restored health. Be assured, Ma’am, of the continued love and respect of your Daughter,

E.D.

My dear, dear Kitty,

I confess, your wonderful news did not greatly surprise me, but my lack of astonishment is more than compensated by my joy at your happiness. I shall hope to have the honour of meeting your Betrothed before long, though Jane intimated to me after first meeting your curate last year that he would be a worthy partner in life for you. Unlike your Sister Lizzy, Jane is never wrong in these matters and I trust her judgment implicitly. At your second meeting, Jane observed a mutual attraction and was able to further deduce that Mr. Perrot is a man of sense and good manners. Mr. Bingley, cajoled into finding out more as to his character, could find nobody willing to say a bad word against him. Quite to the contrary, wherever his name was mentioned, he was referred to as a man of integrity, who does much good in the neighbourhood without a hint of sanctimony or that superior air sometimes affected by clergymen. And now that you tell me of his love of poetry and keen sense of the ridiculous, I know I shall like my new Brother immensely!

As to money, my love, do not trouble yourself too much, and do not use the lack of money as an excuse to delay your nuptials for too long. While your portion is, sadly, small, I feel certain that Mr. Perrot’s prospects must be good, given his intelligence and personable character. With you as his Wife and helpmeet, he will have the confidence, support and the will to make his way in the world. You also have the benefit of your Sisters’ connections and Family and I feel certain both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy will wish to assist Mr. Perrot’s advancement if they are able.

Shall you be married from The Great House, or from Longbourn? Though you say a long engagement is planned, Miss Annie is anxious to know the particulars. Never having attended a wedding, the news that her beloved Godmother will be married is of very particular interest. Weddings have become a subject of great curiosity since your letter and she has taken to wearing daisy chains in her hair and around her neck, fancying herself very smart—the long-suffering Parsley is similarly bedecked. His role in the proceedings is unclear, but so long as he can continue to sleep undisturbed, he appears content to play whatever part is required.

How very convenient for Mr. Perrot that my Father spared him the inconvenience of a journey to Longbourn to ask for your hand! What news Papa will have when he returns home! (By the bye, my Mother did not reply to my letter requesting that you be allowed to stay longer—perhaps she wrote to you directly? On the assumption that she gave her approbation (in any case, Papa has already agreed) pray do not feel obliged to return to Pemberley on my behalf. Nothing would please me more than that you and Mr. Perrot should come here, but I fear Mr. Darcy is not yet well enough to receive company, so we must postpone that pleasure.

Dear Kitty, I wish you great joy. If you are fortunate to have even half the happiness Jane and I have found in our marriages, you will be a happy woman, and you deserve nothing less.

Kindly present my best compliments to Mr. Perrot, whose acquaintance I look forward to making.

Ever yours,
Lizzy

Dear Lady Ashton Dennis,

How very kind of you to send me “Endymion!” The first words alone brought tears to my eyes:

A thing of beauty is a joy forever:

Its loveliness increases; it will never

Pass into nothingness; but still will keep

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep

Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

I was naturally put in mind of my darling Cassie; Mr. Keats’ sentiments gave me great ease. And later:

… and did give

My eyes at once to death: but ’twas to live,

To take in draughts of life from the gold fount

Of kind and passionate looks; to count, and count

The moments, by some greedy help that seem’d

A second self, that each might be redeem’d

And plunder’d of its load of blessedness.

Since the dark days of Mr. Darcy’s accident and his subsequent delivery, I am determined to take in large, daily draughts of life, and to count and count the moments. Mr. Keats immediately joins Cowper and Byron among my favourites and I shall look forward to his future works with great anticipation.

I thank you, too, for your enquiries after my Husband’s health. He makes great progress, is able to walk unaided a little further each day, the arm no longer gives him pain and has mended well, and the headaches he suffered upon first awakening have all but gone. His strength increases daily and he has a good appetite.

His disposition, however, is sadly another matter. It is probably natural for a man of his temperament to resent this enforced dependence, but it is quite disconcerting that he should be so ill-tempered; his low spirits often lead him to be curt and sometimes uncivil to those who love him most. Mr. Brownley assures me this is to be expected and will pass once he is strong enough to carry out the normal daily round once more. Let us hope it may be soon. I see the look in Annie’s eye as she approaches her Father to sense his mood. I would not wish her to become afraid of him.

I have said far too much. Forgive my ill-manners in unburdening my heart to you—my pen ran away of its own accord and knew not when to stop. I pondered whether to begin this letter afresh, but then recalled dear Eleanor saying how grateful she often was for being able to confide in you unreservedly and without fear. In trusting
her
good judgment I feel confident of
your
discretion.

I have not had the pleasure of a letter from Eleanor these past several months, so am delighted to hear from you that she is in good health in the Bahamas. Twins! What a surprise she must have gotten! Please give her my heartiest congratulations when you next write.

Annie, now four, is quite the little Lady. She has learned almost wholly of her own accord the alphabet and the figures, and reads and spells and recites nursery rhymes for our amusement. Our lessons together are very pleasant and we have today finished a second page of three-letter words. For a treat, her Papa will take her on his lap, and together they find all the o’s or any other letter on a page in a magazine or book.

While I am heartily glad that life in Bath is so much to your liking, I am sorry that
your
pleasure denies me
mine!
Your visits hereabouts have become all too rare and I miss our talks about books and poetry.

Be assured that your thoughtfulness in sending the Keats’ verses is sincerely appreciated by your Friend,

Elizabeth Darcy

My dear Mrs. Daley—Margaret, if I may …

Would that any words of mine could offer any real comfort to you on the death of your esteemed Father. Each death in our lives is a personal, lonely experience, and the loss of so kind and affectionate a Parent must be deeply hurtful, more especially as your constant residence with him has given you the more intimate knowledge of his virtues. The raw, burning grief that envelops us as a consequence will not be ignored and while the head whispers that the loved one’s passing was a release from worldly ills, the soul aches with a sorrow no balm can assuage.

Yet I can tell you that the red-hot fire of grief will pass. After Cassie’s death, I would become very angry when people insisted on telling me this for I did not believe it, not for one moment. The heavy stone that was my heart, the grief, the tears, the loneliness had so completely taken over that they were my whole being, never to depart. Indeed, I did not wish them to depart, but time has a strange way of healing, finally leaving one free to resume one’s life, to laugh again and live again without guilt and without dishonour to the departed. In time I hope you, too, will find that to do so is to honour your Father. He would not wish it otherwise, I feel certain.

For my part, I shall remember your dear Father as a good, kind man, who was surely an excellent Father, for he could not otherwise have had a Daughter so loving and solicitous and mindful of his welfare. I hope you will be comforted by the consideration of the little enjoyment he was able to have from the world for some time past, and of the small degree of pain attending his last hours.

I shall not press you to write, but when you are equal to it I hope we shall receive from you as good an account of Mr. Daley and yourself as can be expected in these early days of sorrow.

Yours ever,
Elizabeth Darcy

Dearest Jane,

I have so many things to acquaint you with that I know not where to start … Well, let me begin with the shortest of my announcements: Expect another Nephew or Niece this coming November! Annie professed her delight at first, but with all the innocence of a Child, asked if her new Brother or Sister was going to die like Cassie. She asks the same question thrice daily at least, and whenever it arises, her Papa and I, abetted by Nurse, take as much time as is required to reassure her. We do not wish this fear to be perpetuated and encourage her to love her new Sibling every bit as much as she did her Sister.

Speaking of her Sister, you know that it has long been my wish to make a lasting memorial to Cassie—we have spoken of it so often—and I believe that I have finally come upon the perfect answer (be patient, I shall come to the details in due course, but allow me first to indulge my peregrinations).

While Mr. Darcy was lying unconscious, I had an abundance of time for thinking, and one day when I was feeling particularly low in spirits, I scolded myself out of self-pity by making a list of the material blessings I am privy to each and every day here at Pemberley, not even counting the further benefit I derive from the surrounding villages and farms which form part of the estate:

One large mansion (so large that I am not even aware exactly how many rooms there are, but at least 50)

Stables and horses

Mews with carriages of various kinds

Fish ponds

Duck ponds

Trout streams

Flower gardens

Vegetable gardens

Walled gardens

Orchards

Beehives

Dairy

Piggery

Lumber mill

Corn mills

Ice house

Greenhouses

Fernery

Woods

&c., &c., &c.

By the time I had added to this list the many people who daily make Pemberley—and my life—run so efficiently and smoothly, I felt like a spoiled Child. Barford had previously opened my eyes when we reviewed estate affairs together during Mr. Darcy’s indisposition (how quickly I had forgotten my own awe and astonishment (just five years ago!) at the sheer size of Pemberley, and the numbers of people required to properly manage such a household and estate as this). Unlike my own Husband, I had previously not given more than a passing thought to the people whose very existence depended upon the whims of the Darcy Family. No, I had been much too busy with my own affairs, now and then smugly distributing patched clothing to the poor and baskets of food at Christmas. How often and easily I have remarked how thankful I am for my blessings, without really knowing what those many blessings were! Even my own grief at my Daughter’s death and my Husband’s accident clouded my eyes to the many Families who suffer unkind blows of fate, but because of their situations in life cannot permit themselves the luxury of withdrawing from the world with their sorrow if they are to put food on the table and keep a roof above their heads.

Since that time I have been resolved upon doing something worthwhile for the benefit of not only estate workers and their Families, but also others less fortunate than I. At last, I have come up with a scheme which pleases me exceedingly. Last week, I laid it before Mr. Darcy for the first time, who, you should know, was as impressed with my secrecy as he was with my plan. Together we refined it and here, in short, is what we propose:

A free school is to be set up in Lambton, to be named the Cassandra Darcy School, for all Children up to age 11 years. For Children older than 11, who have the inclination and ability to further their studies, we shall set up scholarships that they may attend other fine schools in Derbyshire without fear of burdening their Families with the costs of their education.

Barford (whom I had previously sworn to secrecy and consulted as to a possible suitable building for my purpose) thinks he knows the perfect place on the outskirts of the village, a former inn on the old coach road which has been empty for some years. Since it belongs to the Pemberley estate, all that was required was Mr. Darcy’s consent—freely and generously given, I may say.

Moreover—and this was Mr. Darcy’s idea—the outbuildings can be easily converted into a lending library for all, which will be called the Cassandra Darcy Memorial Library. Jane, what do you say? I long for your opinion! Will not these schemes be a fitting memorial for our darling Girl? Most people hereabouts find themselves in Lambton during the week on some business or other, so it is the very spot for a lending library. Both the school and library will be properly set up with a board of governors, or whatever is required (Mr. Darcy will instruct his attorney) and Sir Richard Mansfield has indicated already that he would be delighted to serve in some capacity or other. I have no doubt we shall have no difficulty in persuading others to join us.

The only problem we envisage is convincing villagers and tenants of the wisdom of sending their Children to our school when they might be useful at home or in the fields, especially those who fear their Children knowing more than they do themselves. Mr. Darcy, however, feels certain that a few words from him, or one of his agents, will persuade any reluctant Parents.

In part with that in mind, I have further plans to hold weekly reading and writing classes for the adults, perhaps at the library. I have enlisted the help of the Vicar’s Wife, who was at first puzzled by the notion of educating them, wondering aloud whether it might not be safer to leave them in ignorance. Reason at last prevailed and she is now such a keen advocate of the classes that she speaks of them as if the idea were her very own. I am more than pleased to allow her the credit, especially since she has undertaken to find the proper teaching primers, and not least because her Husband will be a valuable ally from the pulpit.

Lastly, there is to be a soup kitchen to feed the poor, also at Lambton, which is so usefully situated. I spoke about this to Margaret Daley recently (have I mentioned that the Daleys are to remove to Mr. Daley’s estate at Weldon? While Margaret’s Father was still living, they had resided at his house, which will now be sold. I know I have not told you that a Daley Heir/ess is expected in October, for I was only just informed myself.) Anyhow, now that they will be living even closer to us, the Daleys have offered to underwrite both the establishment and weekly costs of the soup kitchen as a memorial to her Father. Is that not delightful, Jane? (I have to admit to noticing a certain irony when I recollect that her Father was a very finicky eater indeed!) In their enthusiasm, the Daleys have even improved upon our plan, and the soup kitchen will encompass a scheme to take food to the sick.

Dear Jane, using my grief to good purpose is a feeling as intoxicating as any wine. I have been quite giddy with joy and anticipation ever since I first summoned the courage to lay before my Husband all that I have just related. Death has not triumphed over us, but has been the means of creating something new, something wonderful, something we shall take great pride in—my dear Daughter will live as long as the school and library stand.

I must now gather up young Annie, who, like her Mother, is anxious to be outdoors on this glorious May morning.

Ever yours,
Elizabeth