More Letters From Pemberley (4 page)

You are too kind, my dear Aunt. To take it upon yourself to assist Georgiana in the purchase of wedding clothes is more than generous. I must include my Uncle, too, for his own generosity in sparing you for this undertaking.

To own the truth, we were all mightily relieved to have your offer: Miss Bingley wrote a long letter of congratulation on Annie’s birth, adding that since I would be unable to accompany Georgiana to town for wedding clothes, and knowing that she (Miss B.) would be more likely than I to know the best shops, she would willingly cut short her stay with friends in Sussex to put herself at G.’s disposal. Until that moment, while we might well have given a passing thought to wedding clothes, it was ever a subject for later discussion and consequently dismissed from our minds. A birth, an Infant and latterly a christening have filled our days, and now the calendar informs us that later is now! Thank you again, dear Aunt, for your forethought. For her part, Georgiana did not wish to put herself forward lest she should appear avaricious. Silly goose!

As you might expect, Mr. Darcy has made a most generous allowance for wedding clothes, so there is no need for either you or Georgiana to concern yourselves on that score. G. and I have begun a list of commissions: shoes, stockings, gloves, hats, feathers and trimmings, morning and visiting dresses, cloaks, shawls, wraps, riding habits, ball gowns. (The mantua-maker here makes her wedding gown, but Georgiana will need to purchase ivory buttons for it from William & Son.) Should this long list alarm you, dear Aunt, you are, of course, at liberty to amend it as you see fit, and as your time and energy allow.

A commission from Mr. Darcy, if you please: He requests, nay insists, that you both pay a visit to Bourgeois Amick & Sons in the Haymarket. There, you and Georgiana are to purchase the finest scent of your choice with his best compliments. (I am also to add that arrangements have already been made for these items to be charged to Mr. D.’s account.)

I blush at my own impudence, yet cannot resist asking that
if
you should pass by Lackington’s, would you purchase a copy of a new Scottish novel,
Waverley,
for me? The author remains anonymous, but by all accounts it is a great success. Lady Ashton Dennis tells me that Byron’s
Lara
is to be published this month and I should dearly love a copy if it does not put you to too much trouble.

How dearly I wish that I, too, could be of the party. What a merry time we would have, the three of us. Instead, Georgiana has been charged to write me daily of your doings; I want to know every particular so that I may be properly envious!

I shall now write Miss Bingley that she should remain happily in Sussex.

With my best love, as always,
Lizzy

My dear Aunt,

I have had not a moment’s time to write, or you should not have been left so long in ignorance of all the particulars of Georgiana’s wedding to Colonel Fitzwilliam. I hasten to make amends.

The day dawned clear and temperate; the bride and groom were as nervous as they ought to be; the bride’s handsome Brother was by turns bursting with pride and deeply affected by the honour of giving his only Sister in marriage to his Cousin and dear friend. The bride’s dress was of snow-white muslin, and over it a fine silk shawl, white, shot with primrose, and all over embossed with white satin flowers. The delicate yellow tints were most becoming to her fair hair and sunny, clear complexion, though her natural sweet modesty was the most graceful ornament to her beauty.

Dear Georgiana, in never seeking admiration, she will always find it. Some lines of George Crabbe came to me as I observed her:

Her air, her manners, all who saw admir’d;

Courteous though coy, and gentle though retired

The joy of youth and health her eyes displayed,

And ease of heart her every look conveyed.

I ought to say something about the bridegroom, though he is but a secondary figure on these occasions and rarely mentioned in reports of weddings. But since he plays an important role in the proceedings, I shall give him his due and tell you that the Colonel cut a very fine figure indeed in his dress uniform.

Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh honoured us with their presence, arriving at Pemberley (unannounced) just three days before. Knowing that they planned to attend—Lady C. finally having informed my Husband of her intention—I had had rooms prepared three weeks prior and aired daily since. Mr. Darcy and I had anyhow resolved not to be put out by anything her Ladyship might say or do, so it was of little matter. She lost little time in inspecting Mr. Repton’s alterations and additions, opined that I should regret the particular shade of yellow chosen for my sitting room draperies—they will quickly fade—and declared the new servants’ wing an error in judgment and taste. The new conservatory left her quite speechless, I am told, a rare event I am sorry not to have witnessed. Thankfully, she stopped short of declaring Pemberley “ruined,” yet that was the unspoken sentiment. My Husband, I am proud to say, while tested beyond the limits of endurance by Lady C.’s lectures on good taste and style, exercised great forbearance and restraint. Towards myself, Lady Catherine was as polite as good manners dictated and I am indebted to her for choosing to ignore me for the most part.

Your Great-Niece, subjected to similar close inspection was, regrettably, found much wanting in disposition. Her merry eyes and ready smiles are evidently not desirable traits in an Infant of five months, and prompted her Ladyship to remark, that “All Children are by nature evil, Mrs. Darcy. Prudent parents must check their naughty passions in any way they have in their power and force them into decent and proper behaviour.” My poor, poor Charlotte! How she must daily suffer! Our Daughter’s failings notwithstanding, Lady Catherine did deem her fit to receive a very fine brooch with which to mark her birth.

You will recall that Lady Catherine had very decided ideas about her Niece’s nuptials. It was hardly surprising, therefore, that she was overheard to declare the occasion a “very dull affair: very little white satin, very few lace veils; a most pitiful business,” yet I can assure you that for all other parties concerned, who do not share her Ladyship’s taste for finery and parade, the simplicity of the nuptials added a real elegance to the occasion.

I had, at last, the opportunity to meet Colonel Fitzwilliam’s Father and found him a fine, genial man of good sense, not at all like his Sister, Lady Catherine (to whom he paid scant attention). Mr. Darcy remembers him and his Mother, Lady Anne, being much alike in temperament, favouring their own Father in disposition.

As a special surprise, Mr. Darcy arranged for Mrs. Annesley (G.’s former companion) to attend the wedding—my Husband’s thoughtfulness never ceases to astonish me, and in this instance he was well rewarded by the warmth of their embraces and their obvious affection for one another. Many tenants, villagers, farm workers and others crowded outside the church for a glimpse of the bride, shouting blessings and good wishes, and Mr. Darcy made sure that everyone at Pemberley could celebrate the occasion in style by arranging festivities in the new servants’ wing, complete with music for dancing.

The newly-weds prudently decided to postpone a wedding journey to the Continent. While Napoleon is safely imprisoned at Elba for the moment, rumours abound that he has plans to escape. Moreover, the Colonel would not wish to be far from his regiment in these uncertain times. So they are spending their first weeks as Man and Wife in their new house, happily engaged in domestic rather than cultural pursuits.

Now we find ourselves quite alone again, but by no means repining (though, of course, Georgiana is sorely missed). We shall join the Bingleys for the Christmas festivities. Mr. Darcy keenly looks forward to good sport; Jane and I will be perfectly satisfied with our own company and Children. I shall endeavour not to mind
too
greatly the want of a favourite Aunt to complete our party, and content myself with the happy thought that we shall see each other in London in the New Year. Meanwhile, let me thank you again for your part in making the occasion of Georgiana’s wedding such a joyous one for all of us. Your absence was keenly felt by many, not least by your devoted Niece,

Elizabeth

My dear Jane,

I should have written long before and beg forgiveness for causing you such concern. We are safely arrived in London following an arduous journey (from which I hasten to assure you we are all now fully recovered.) With many apologies for my shameful neglect (and in part to excuse it) let me lay before you the particulars of our journey here, although there are parts which I would prefer to forget entirely. In saying thus much, I know I may rely on your confidentiality; indeed, I would prefer even Mr. Bingley not to be apprised of
every
detail, but must leave that to your discretion, which I trust implicitly.

Our first day from Pemberley, the weather was fair and dry and remained so the entire way to Longbourn, which we reached in excellent time. We stayed but two nights and set out for London early on the 7th. We were not on the road long before the sky darkened and snow began to fall, lightly at first, then the wind gusted in an instant, turning pretty flakes into a blinding storm of whirling snow. Mr. Darcy, whose mood had darkened with the weather, instructed Thompson to stop at the next inn where we would wait until the storm abated. Not five minutes later we heard a loud crack and were pitched over into a ditch! Having first ensured that we were all unhurt, Mr. Darcy and Thompson unhitched the horses which were frightened but otherwise unscathed, thankfully. The horses were then hitched behind the second carriage in some fashion and we set out again to find an inn and send help and fresh horses back to Thompson, who was left to guard our carriage. Annie, who was with Nurse in the second carriage, slept through the whole commotion, bless her heart, and the only sounds to be heard were the muffled steps of the horses. Mr. Darcy was by now in the blackest of moods and I was glad to finally hear that young Thompson (Thompson’s son) saw lights ahead. Never was I so pleased to see a warm fire!

Once he had arranged rooms and ordered dinner for us all, Mr. Darcy went with young Thompson to settle the horses and make arrangements with the landlord to collect Thompson, our belongings, and have the carriage repaired. Our own valises being still with the carriage, I had nothing to do but see that Nurse and Annie were comfortable, and rest until Mr. Darcy returned. I was rudely awakened by the loud slamming of a door to see Mr. Darcy standing before me.

“Mrs. Darcy,” he railed, “I do hope you are well aware that none of this would have happened if I had not been so foolish as to acquiesce to
your
insistence that we travel to London now rather than wait until late March as had been
my
wish. Also against my wishes,
you
insisted on our Daughter accompanying us—imagine if
she
had been in the carriage that overturned! Now here we are—heaven alone knows where—and heaven alone knows how long we may be stranded in this, this . . . place!

“And while you have been resting comfortably, I wonder if you have considered the welfare of the horses, the expense and time which will be incurred to repair the carriage? It is insupportable, Madam! In indulging your whims, I find myself in the abhorrent position of depending on persons completely unknown to me to rescue my family and servants from an unnecessary predicament which could, indeed, should have been avoided.”

Before I had a chance to reply (though I was so shocked at this outburst as to be rendered quite speechless) he turned on his heel and quitted the room. Jane, I knew not what to think. These were the harshest words I had ever heard from his lips and for a moment wondered if I had awoken from a bad dream.

How long I sat there, I know not. Mr. Darcy’s words rang in my head over and over again. I revisited conversations we had had previously about travelling at this time. Yes, he had wanted to leave later, but agreed with me that we should not deprive my Mother sight of her Grand-daughter for too much longer, adding that travel can be just as hazardous in March with muddy, slippery roads. So it was that we spent the Christmas festivities at Longbourn. Much as I tried, I could not recollect a single instance of my insisting on anything with which I had been charged. Was I deceiving myself? Had I abused his kind, generous nature to such base purpose so often that he finally lost control of his temper? What had I done and how was I to make amends? My attempts to solve the conundrum succeeded only in bringing on a severe headache, yet somehow I managed to tidy myself, dress for dinner and attend to Annie’s needs, the while hoping my demeanour might deceive the Nurse into thinking that nothing was amiss, though it was difficult to imagine that she had not heard at least part of Mr. Darcy’s invective.

It was now time for dinner and I descended the stairs with some trepidation. Willpower alone permitted me to keep my composure as the landlord presented Mr. Darcy’s apologies for his absence.

“’E insisted on goin’ back out with the men, Ma’am. Said ’e ’ad t’be sure ’is man was safe. Said for me t’pack up food’n drink for all and to stop ’ere and look after ’is fam’ly and ’orses, Ma’am. I told ’im ’tweren’t right a Gentleman like ’im goin’ out in a storm like this, but ’e insisted, Ma’am. A right fine Gentleman that, Ma’am, if yer don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

With that, he escorted me to the table where I was to dine alone. I may have graced the table with my presence, but my appetite had long taken flight. Nevertheless, so as not to appear ungracious, I did my best to eat the substantial meal set before me and drank a little wine to steady my nerves for I knew not what was yet to come. A brisk walk after dinner would have been just the thing, but snow was still falling steadily, so I retired instead to my chamber with a book, fooling myself that I might actually read! Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps the exertions of the day, but I fell asleep. When I finally awoke, it took a little time to recall where I was, then the day’s events slowly seeped into my consciousness as my heart slowly sank with the remembrance.

“Are the men yet safely returned, Landlord?” I enquired.

“Not yet, Ma’am,” said he, “but don’t ’e worry. They’ll be along presently, I reckons. The snow stopped about an hour ago and the sky’s clearing nicely.”

And so it was, with more and more stars to be seen as the clouds gradually cleared and the moon shone forth on the white landscape. Had my heart not been so heavy, it would have been a wondrous night, the sort of night my Husband and I had often enjoyed together at Pemberley, our arms wrapped around each other against the cold air. Jane, you can imagine that my spirits were at a very low ebb as I made my way back to my chamber. I lay in bed listening for sounds of his return, not expecting to sleep, but the next I knew it was morning and a maid arrived with hot water. “Mornin’, Ma’am,” she greeted me.

“Tell me, did the rescue party return? Is everyone safe?” I asked.

“Aye, Ma’am. They’re all safe and sound, God be praised. ’Twas late by the time they got back ’ere, mind. An’ now the snow’s stopped, the wheelwright and ’is men’ll be able to fix up your carriage in no time, I’ll be bound.”

She turned to leave, then turned back. “Silly me, I almost forgot. Yer ’usband said to give ’ee this as soon as you was awake,” and handed me a letter. “Oh, and, if you please, Ma’am, the Gent’man says to send word when it’ll be convenient for ’im to come up.”

After she left, I looked at the letter several times wondering at its contents and, fearing a continuation of his last outburst, took a deep breath, tore it open and read (Jane, I beg you, at the very least, please keep this part to yourself):

“Elizabeth, my dearest Wife, can you ever forgive me for such ill-mannered behaviour? My outburst was so out of character—I hope we may agree on that—that I frightened myself exceedingly. Heaven alone knows how it must have affected you! When the storm began, my only thought was of the hazards which might lie before us and how foolish I had been to endanger the lives of not only the two dearest people to me in the world, but also our servants and horses. As the carriage overturned, I imagined you crushed to death and our Daughter in the following carriage meeting a similar fate. Indeed, even though that carriage was unharmed, seeing her fast asleep–for that brief, horrible moment, I imagined her dead.

“It will not surprise me if you cannot believe that my fury was directed only at myself—not at you, nor as a consequence of any actions of yours. It is nevertheless the truth. After the calamitous events of the day, my increasing anxiety led to a spleen filled to overflowing and able to take no more—so it was vented on you, something for which I am utterly ashamed. How could I have wounded the most important and dearest treasure of my life? In hurting you, I have hurt myself one-hundred-fold, diminishing my entire being. My only excuse is that the vehemence of my anger was brought about by the unbearable notion of harming, or losing you and our Daughter through my own gross stupidity and lack of control over our circumstances. I hope you will find it in your heart, dearest Lizzy, to forgive your most abject and loving Husband.”

Jane, can you possibly imagine my relief? As I was reading his letter a second time (or was it a third or fourth?) a knock at the door announced Mr. Darcy’s arrival. There was no need for words: my smiling face, wet with tears, and outstretched arms told him he was heartily forgiven; the warmth and ardour of his loving embrace confirmed that we would be as before, ’tho perhaps a little wiser and more appreciative of the blessings we enjoy.

I shall dwell no more on this most unhappy episode, except to say that we were obliged to stay at the inn three full days before the carriage was ready. We took full advantage of this unexpected leisure and enjoyed many walks into the surrounding country, complimenting Mother Nature on her snowy beauty as we went, and thanking her for the brilliant sunshine which showed her to best advantage.

Dear Jane, I shall write again soon. Be assured that your commission for Mr. Steele’s Lavender Water causes no inconvenience.

Affectionately,
Lizzy