More Letters From Pemberley (5 page)

Dearest Jane,

London is very drab indeed. All is grey and damp and foggy with not even the winter fair on the Thames to lift the spirits—for the first time anyone can recall, the river is not frozen over, but we find plenty to amuse ourselves. Last Thursday, being an unusually fine day, we took the opportunity for some fresh air and drove out to some nearby villages: Kensington, Chelsea and Knightsbridge, which reminded me how much I look forward to returning to our own countryside. That same evening, we visited the Vauxhall Gardens. I don’t recall that you were ever there so I must describe them to you: they comprise a series of gravel walks lined with trees and shrubbery, some quite secluded with names such as Dark Walk and Lovers’ Walk, and throughout waterfalls and caves and marble statues. A central square is surrounded by pavilions and rotundas, all dedicated to the arts, in addition to a sizeable concert hall and picture gallery. Most fascinating of all, though, is the lighting. Mr. Darcy had already told me of the new gas lighting, which he has in mind to install at Pemberley one day, and this was his main interest in coming to Vauxhall. Jane, you would not believe it—more than one thousand lamps, we are told, all concealed in the trees and reflected in revolving mirrors, as well as chandeliers and lanterns. It is an astonishing sight, which would require another entire page to describe, but I shall leave the rest for you to discover for yourself. The Prince Regent was not in attendance that evening, having entertained a large party there just two days prior, we were told. I was only a little disappointed at the news—a
very
little.

We dine with my Uncle and Aunt Gardiner again tomorrow, after which we go together to Covent Garden. My Aunt and I have made several shopping expeditions when the weather has permitted; when not, we are perfectly content to sit at home with our work, where we are also far better situated for my Aunt to admire her Great-niece. We have also been reading Byron’s
Corsair
together, so you see how happily we get on.

Mr. Darcy has also been busily occupied, not only with business matters, but also visits to his tailor, Mr. Weston in Bond Street; his hatter at Lock’s; and his wine merchant at Berry’s. My Aunt and I vastly prefer to occupy ourselves at Gunter’s in Berkeley Square (in our opinion the best confectioners in London). By the time I leave town, we hope to have sampled most of their delicious wares and I have in mind to bring a large box of our favourites for you to enjoy. I shall insist on them securing the box tightly with many complicated knots to prevent your Sister from the temptation of sampling the contents anew!

Ever yours,
Lizzy

My dear Jane,

I have so many matters to discuss that my paper will hardly hold it all. Little matters they are to be sure, but highly important nonetheless.

A letter from Mr. Collins this morning that Charlotte is safely delivered of a Daughter, to be named Catherine Maria. Mr. Collins expounds at length on the civility and generosity of his patroness, to whom he applied for the honour of naming her thus. That Lady Catherine should permit
his
Daughter to bear
her
name is a compliment of the highest order, he continues, for which he and his dear Charlotte feel appropriately humble and grateful and privileged. (I dare say some practical benefits may also ensue, do you not think? Lady C. has further honoured the Collinses by allowing her sickly Daughter to be Godmother.) Poor little Catherine, with such a name she will have much to live up to. Better she should have been named for Charlotte, but she is at least blessed with a Mother of abundant good sense to guide her through the pitfalls that will surely await the namesake of Lady Catherine de Bourgh!

My second piece of news is that this coming December promises the arrival of a Sister or Brother for Annie! Mr. Darcy is overjoyed at the prospect of an addition to our family; I am overjoyed that thus far I am in good health with no sign of the dizziness and nausea that I well remember at this stage with Annie—in fact, should the weather remain fair this afternoon, I have in mind to gather cowslips. Their delicious scent is one of the greatest pleasures Nature has to bestow, and cowslip wine in winter is a fond remembrance of the joys of spring.

Lastly, Mrs. Reynolds, who was sorry to hear about your cook’s ailing feet, begs me to write these recipes, which she assures me will give certain relief:

1. To assuage the raging pain of a Corn by instant application.

Take equal parts of a roasted onion and soft soap, beat them up together, and apply them to the corn in a linen rag by way of a poultice.

2. Corn Plaister

Take one ounce of turpentine, half an ounce of red lead, one ounce of frankincense, half a pound of white rosin, one pint of Florence oil; boil these ingredients in a pipkin, and keep stirring them over a slow fire with an elder stick until it turns black; then turn it out to harden for use. It must be applied by spreading it on a piece of leather oiled all over, and then put to the corn. Wearing it constantly for some time will effectually eradicate the corn.

Do you recall Mrs. Hill concocting some similar potion when our Mother was so afflicted?

If Mr. Darcy were not presently discussing with Barford such pressing matters of business as the prices of wheat, barley and sheep, I know he would wish me to send his compliments.

My mention of Mr. Darcy’s steward reminds me to tell you that I paid another visit to Mrs. Barford yesterday. It is now almost a full year that her youngest Child died, yet her grief consumes her still.

The boy was scarce three years, so she is fortunate in being unburdened by long
years
of happy memories of him, and has three other Children besides. I reminded her (kindly, I hope) that her good Husband has great need of her, as do the other Children, and she would do well to rouse herself on their account and set her sorrow aside. I have no doubt you would have put it better, but Barford is a good, hardworking man upon whom my Husband places great reliance. It pains me to see him looking so sad, and I feel certain that if his good Lady made an attempt to greet him with a smile when he returns home, he would reap the benefit of it.

And so, my dear Jane, another glorious day beckons. This dry, warm spell must be heaven-sent for your strawberries. May we expect a large crop this year?

With love,
Lizzy

My dear, dear Eleanor,

You sly fox! I should scold you severely for having kept me in ignorance for so long about your sea captain, but I am too full of joy for you. My heartiest, sincerest congratulations on your betrothal. That your relationship has withstood the severe test of several years’ separation is surely the best illustration of the steadfastness of your regard for one other and certainly an indication of loving and rewarding years ahead. I like your Captain already: to have waited for you for so long shows a steady, patient temperament and an appreciation of the treasure that is you, dear Eleanor. Mr. Darcy joins me in wishing you many years of happiness.

You only allude to the reasons for your former separation and, naturally, they are of no consequence now, yet my heart tells me that those years were surely not without great pain and suffering. Since I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance (may I say, friendship?) you have never once given any indication of the loneliness and sorrow you must surely have felt at times. How brave you have been, all the while keeping your own counsel, with not even a loving Sister to confide in! I have always held you in high esteem; my admiration for your fortitude and character is now boundless.

You also make passing mention of the jealousy of your Sister and the indifference of your Father, so I shall allow myself the presumption of saying that I feel certain you will rise above such pettiness, as you doubtless have had to do many times in the past. Let no feelings of hurt at their treatment of you be allowed to mar your joy! They who have contributed so little to your happiness in the past are hardly deserving of any consideration in your future.

No, I have not had news of Lady Ashton Dennis for some time. Now that she spends most of her time in Bath and moves in circles in which we have small or no acquaintance, we have too little in common to sustain a regular correspondence. One thing we do share is a love of good poetry, and now and then we exchange views on something or other we have lately read which the other might also enjoy. Her approval of your Betrothed can only add a measure to your joy and my own, since she is a woman of good taste and opinion.

How very fitting that just now your Captain has got the appointment which he has long been desirous of having! That you are to live on board ship is such an exciting prospect, my single regret being that we shall not see you and meet your Captain before you set sail for the Bahamas. Such an adventure for you! Shall you like being on the high seas? I questioned Mr. Darcy on the wisdom of setting sail at this time of year. He assures me that as your voyage progresses, you will be sailing towards very fair weather and will likely escape winter entirely—what joy! I have since found the Bahamas on the globe–such a long, long way from Bath! Pray, write often about life aboard ship and in the tropics. Your friend in land-locked Derbyshire looks forward to your reports with the greatest interest. Please know that our good wishes go with you.

As ever,
E.D.

A hasty note, my dear Jane, to accompany these apples. Mr. Darcy is sending Barford on business which will bring him within five miles of The Great House, and this season’s apple crop is so bountiful that we are glad of the opportunity to share a bushel or two with you, knowing that your own orchards are yet too young to provide much fruit.

Life at Pemberley and the home farm has been busy of late: I am also sending you two flitches of ham and some newly-bottled gooseberries and damsons. Poor Barford must sorely regret my having overheard him talking to my Husband about his journey, for he is also making a similar delivery to Mrs. Harville (a former schoolfellow of Aunt Gardiner’s whose acquaintance I first made when we drove that first time to The Great House on your behalf—Mrs. H. resides in one of the villages along the way, the name of which I forget and must find before Barford sets out. Perhaps you have already met her?)

I hope these lines find you in good health and spirits, and that Frederick is quite recovered from his cold. I shall close now and scribble a note to Mrs. Harville.

Ever yours,
E.D.

I am heartily ashamed of myself, my dear Charlotte, that it has taken me so long to thank you for your good wishes on the birth of Cassandra Jane, who in four days will be four weeks old. I could offer the excuse that my recovery from child-bed has been slow, that I have been left weak and listless, but you will remember how much pride I take in my honesty and forthrightness (not always to my credit, let it be said) so I must tell you immediately that I am well-recovered, in good health and heart, and that my Daughter thrives. Let me also admit that my neglect of a favourite correspondent is due entirely to an indulgence in the happy state in which I find myself. Indeed, against custom and advice, I insisted upon leaving my bed after only one week, despite the entreaties of Mr. Brownley, abetted by my Husband. The prospect of spending another week abed when I felt so well was too hard to bear.

Annie is quite delighted with her Sister, though persists in calling her Rosebud, the name of her favourite doll. Cassie appears to consider this a great compliment and has made no objection thus far. Indeed, Cassie does resemble a doll, a tiny pink doll. She was a little smaller than Annie at birth, but arrived with the same mop of brown curls and long brown eyelashes. (With time, I am hopeful of growing rather more reasonable about my Children’s beauty, but you will agree with me, I am sure, Charlotte, that Mothers ought to be allowed to crow over their Infants without fear of the accusation of partiality!)

My Mother’s letter on the arrival of Cassandra Jane more closely resembles a letter of condolence than one of congratulation. She hopes I am not too cast down at the birth of another girl and begs me to keep up my spirits. Her fervent wish is that I should not suffer her fate and be “burdened” with girls. Further, she prays that Mr. Darcy will not think less of his Wife for not producing an Heir. It is no use telling her that my Husband finds his Daughters a source of unending delight, that he is inordinately proud of them and plans to engage Mr. Thomas Lawrence to paint a family portrait as soon as convenient. It is profoundly irksome that one’s own Mother does not share the blessing of the birth of a
healthy Child.
From Lady Catherine I expect little other than criticism—but let us leave it there, I shall not waste more good paper and ink on such a vexing matter.

Your own family news is wonderfully diverting and your description of Mr. Collins playing on the floor with young Robert at marbles is such that I might have been in the room myself. Are we not fortunate to have such happy, healthy Children?

Here, too, the weather has been bleak and miserable, but though there are few opportunities to be outdoors, we do not want for amusement. If nothing else, Miss Annie’s attempts at dancing are most entertaining. She would not be half so funny if she did not take herself quite so seriously!

Dear Charlotte, in making light of my shortcomings as a correspondent, I would not wish you to think this a reflection of my regard for your friendship. You are so often in my thoughts and I treasure your letters almost as much as your affection. There are few people who own as much of my heart as you. I am resolved to mend my ways as I grow tired of having to apologise every time I put pen to paper.

As ever,
Lizzy