More Letters From Pemberley (2 page)

Dear Sir,

I am obliged to you for the samples for my sitting room, and for your valued advice. I am in agreement with your suggestion of the darker yellow silk brocade for the chairs, but my preference for the draperies is the lighter of the yellow, rather than the green. I understand your concern that the effect of too much yellow may not be entirely pleasing, but can assure you that I shall like it very well.

Mr. Darcy begs me to add that he leaves for Town on 4th April and will remain at Grosvenor Street for three weeks. He trusts it may be convenient for you to wait upon him there.

I remain, my dear Sir,
E. Darcy

Humphry Repton, Esq.
Sloane Street
London

My dear Aunt Gardiner,

My beloved Sister begs me to inform you immediately of the arrival of Frederick Charles yesterday evening at eleven o’clock. Your Great-Nephew has a fine set of lungs, which he used to full effect as he announced himself to the world. We have so much cause for thankfulness: Mother and Child both safe, and Jane’s bodily suffering only slight. Mr. Bingley is as overjoyed as a new Papa ought to be, and the proud Grandmamma has declared young Frederick the handsomest, healthiest, lustiest Newborn there ever was. She insists that Charlotte’s Robert is nothing compared to Jane’s Frederick, and she will surely waste no time telling Lady Lucas as much upon her return to Longbourn.

I return to Pemberley in a week. I wish I could accompany Mr. Darcy to Town next month, but it cannot be helped. As penance for abandoning an adoring Wife, I am preparing a long list of commissions for him to undertake on my behalf.

You will perhaps be surprised to hear that my Mother received a letter last week from Lydia (addressed to her here at The Great House) in which she longs to see her Mamma, her Sisters and her expected Nephew or Niece. She entreats Mamma to intercede with her Sisters and begs an invitation for herself and her dear Wickham to visit us all. You will certainly not be surprised to learn that since they have recently moved into new lodgings, naturally incurring various, unspecified expenses, would Mamma kindly ask Lizzy to send money for their travel expenses? (Indeed, sending a carriage for them is strongly hinted at, a hint immediately ignored by the Bingleys and Darcys.)

Moreover, Lydia’s travel dress is so out of style that she has taken the liberty of ordering a new one, and feeling certain that her Sisters would not wish to be shamed by her appearance, she suggests that Jane and I share the cost. Sly, clever Lydia! In approaching our Mother, rather than addressing herself to Jane and me directly, she well knows that she is unlikely to be denied, though they will have to content themselves with travelling post.

All may yet work out well. They arrive at The Great House seven days hence, then she is to come to Pemberley (to which my Husband agrees) after Mr. Darcy has left for Town. Even Lydia accepts that it is impossible for Mr. Wickham to be received at Pemberley under any circumstances, but she gives us to understand that he will be continuing to Bath alone, returning to The Great House after two or three weeks. They will then return to Newcastle together to rejoin his regiment.

My Mother was only prevented from immediately sending for Kitty and Mary “for the very great pleasure of having my Girls together again” by the reminder that her eldest Daughter is in childbed, that her second Daughter’s confinement is imminent, and that her Husband would thus be left entirely alone at Longbourn. A tearful moment followed wherein Mamma related how lonely and unhappy she is at Longbourn with three Daughters gone. The remaining two give her no pleasure at all. I was tempted to recall that just two years ago she was unhappy at having
five
unmarried Daughters at home, but since such a recollection would have distressed her even more, I for once followed Jane’s example and said nothing.

Be assured of the love and regard of your affectionate Niece,

Lizzy

My dear Husband,

How glad I am to know that you are safely arrived at Grosvenor Street and that your journey was without incident. It was my fervent hope that this fine spring weather would accompany you to Town and I am thankful that the roads were dry and sound.

Thank you, I can think of no further commissions to add to my list. I shall, however, expect you to lay in a stock of intelligence sufficient to amuse me for a twelvemonth. Of course, gleaning such gossip for your dear Wife will entail attending dinner parties, theatre parties and all other manner of diversions and entertainments, but I trust that sacrificing your own inclination to dine at home and spend a quiet evening with a book before a good fire will not cost you
too
dearly. Should such a price be too high, however, even for a much-loved Spouse, pray content yourself with your books and the occasional company of my Uncle and Aunt Gardiner and know that your Lizzy will love you not one jot less!

Jane writes that she continues to make a good recovery, that our Nephew and Godson gets on well, that Mr. Bingley beams with fatherly pride. My Mother returns to Longbourn tomorrow; Lydia comes here following breakfast at The Great House. Mr. Bingley has graciously offered his carriage for the journey despite my assurance that you had ordered a carriage to be sent from here, but he insists.

A short letter announcing Georgiana’s safe arrival at Rosings came on Tuesday last. I have been in hopes of a longer letter arriving each day since, but it is probably too much to expect and yet another indication of how much I miss her. Indeed, Pemberley is far too quiet (notwithstanding Mr. Repton’s labourers) and in truth, I am heartily sick of being so long separated from my Dearest Life—today being the sixth day that you are gone from home!

These three weeks will be the longest separation we ever yet endured, but I am resolved to meet this trial with cheerful resignation. All my happiness and satisfaction in life date from the day of our betrothal, but since joy and affliction are dispensed by the same divine providence, let us trust that good sense will direct me to submit to the one as well as the other. (I fear I lack the courage to express these sentiments aloud, only in a letter am I able to open my heart without embarrassment. Is this perhaps the meaning of the saying that true intimacy thrives on separation?)

Please accept the affectionate love of a heart not so tired as the right hand belonging to it, and know that you are always in the thoughts of your loving and devoted Wife,

Elizabeth

My dear Georgiana,

Take heart! Your Brother is yet in Grosvenor Street but I feel confident he would wish me to tell you that your marriage to Colonel Fitzwilliam will be arranged and will take place according to
your
wishes. As your Aunt, Lady Catherine is naturally at liberty to make suggestions. Remember, however, that you are under
no obligation
to accept them. Do not distress yourself, my dear Sister. I know that it is against your (and the Colonel’s) easy-going, sweet temperament to contradict or disappoint others, especially members of your own family, but in this particular circumstance you are both at liberty (indeed, I would go further and say you are
obliged
) to listen to your own hearts to avoid the even greater unhappiness of disappointing your own good selves.

With your permission, I will venture a suggestion of my own: Listen to Lady Catherine’s instructions and orders, and thank her for her interest and concern without further comment or acceptance. Although my own acquaintance of your Aunt is limited, I feel certain this will suffice. Should she offer personally to see to it that such-and-such is done, I know your Brother would wish you to inform your Aunt that
he
is undertaking all arrangements for your nuptials, and that she should address herself to
him
. (As a self-acknowledged arbiter of good taste, it is strange, is it not, that Lady Catherine is not aware that the old fashion of festivity and publicity at weddings is quite gone by, and is universally condemned as showing the bad taste of former generations, but pray do not mention it.) Above all, do all in your power to keep up your spirits, my dear Georgiana, for the want of spirits is the greatest misery.

Thank you, I am in good health. Thank you, too, for your compliments to my Sister, Lydia. Be assured that Jane and her little one do very well. Young Frederick repays the affection and love constantly showered upon him with smiles and a variety of delightful gurgles. I beg you will convey my respects to Lady Catherine, my regards to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and know that I am always your loving Sister,

Elizabeth

My dear Aunt Gardiner,

How glad I am to have the very real excuse of wanting to thank you promptly for your most welcome letter, thus allowing me to withdraw to the peace of my own room with a clear conscience on this rainy morning. Lydia declares herself bored (not for the first time since she arrived here). My suggestions that she read a book from the library, re-acquaint herself with the piano in the music room, or take up some needlework from the poor-basket (since she had brought none of her own) meet with vacant stares and a toss of the head. She spends her time walking about the house and banging doors, or ringing the bell for a glass of water.

I had earlier written suggesting she might want to bring books and needlework to Pemberley, which prompted the following reply: “You distress me cruelly by your request, Lizzy. I cannot think of any books to bring with me, nor have I any idea of needing them. I come to you to be talked to, not read to, or to hear reading. I can do
that
at home!”

Married life has changed my Sister but little. The pretty, empty-headed, vain girl is a little older, but marriage has not made her any more mature or sensible: that lively personality, which was found so engaging by many, is now tempered by an unpleasing air of discontent. There is not a conversation to be had in which she does not relate how she and her dear Wickham have been ill-used by the world, how unlucky they are, how unfair everyone is. I regret to say she does not confine such thoughts to private conversations when we are alone. It is fortunate that our acquaintance is too well-mannered to betray any surprise at her indiscretions, and the servants pretend not to hear, but I feel all the embarrassment of her loose tongue.

Mr. Darcy assures me that with Wickham an officer with the regulars, their income ought to be sufficient for them to live as they please if they are careful. Of course, they seldom are. As might be expected, Mr. Wickham is as full of easy charm and compliments as ever. All that was uncomfortable in our first meeting at The Great House soon passed away, leaving only the interesting charm of remembering former Meryton acquaintances. He departed for Bath much sooner than planned, staying at The Great House barely one week. Thus, he remains in Bath with a party of fellow officers an entire month. Lydia professes not to mind, indeed, one might almost imagine that she encouraged his change of plan. She assures us that her dear Wickham is in great need of rest and that the change of scene and the air at Bath will do him a power of good. She also hinted that perhaps his luck at the gaming tables might change for the better. His
adieux
were not long; and they would have been yet shorter, had he not been frequently detained by the urgent entreaties of his fair one that he should go. At length, however, he drew on his gloves with leisurely care and set off with a happy air of real conceit and affected indifference.

I need hardly mention that Georgiana was not of the party which welcomed the Wickhams at The Great House. Indeed, she and Colonel Fitzwilliam have been at Rosings for two weeks and will stay a fortnight longer. It will be in her power to bring me first-hand news of Charlotte, whom she visits often, no doubt in order to escape Lady Catherine, who has been issuing instructions as to the only suitable arrangements to be made for Georgiana’s marriage in November. Not surprisingly, Georgiana desires the simplest, quietest of ceremonies. Lady Catherine, feeling all the importance of Miss Darcy, daughter of Lady Anne, marrying the youngest son of an Earl, has a very different occasion in mind. In taking this strong, personal interest in Georgiana’s nuptials, we must assume that Lady Catherine in fact intends to witness them. (Upon Georgiana’s betrothal, my Husband wrote his Aunt a most conciliatory letter, to which he has yet to receive the honour of a reply.)

I should have mentioned this earlier (forgive me) but pray, do not fret that you will not be at my side while I am in child-bed. I, too, had presumed my Mother intended to remain with me at Pemberley where, incidentally, she could have prolonged her pleasure in Lydia’s company by another fortnight. Yet Mama professed an urgent need—indeed, it was her duty—to return to Longbourn and my Father, having been absent far too long. I cannot help wondering whether other reasons persuaded her to return so urgently: my Mother continues to feel herself intimidated by Mr. Darcy, and to stay under his roof for several weeks without the support of Jane or Kitty, or even my Father, was an intolerable prospect. But I beg you not to concern yourself, my dear Aunt. I am in good health and spirits, though it would hardly be truthful if I said I was without anxiety or fear. However, I have faith that all will turn out well. One knows, of course, the uncertainty of all this, but we must think the best and hope the best.

We left Jane last Saturday in good spirits and restored health. It gives me such pleasure to see her and Mr. Bingley so happy. Frederick Charles is a strong infant with (as I mentioned previously) such a fine set of lungs, it is hard to believe he is the offspring of such soft-spoken parents. I confess to feeling a little envious and pray that Mr. Darcy and I will be as fortunate as the Bingleys.

A letter from Kitty just now arrived: Mamma is safely at Longbourn, but the journey has left her nerves in a poor state. My Mother remains exhausted following her anxiety over Jane’s confinement and is urging Papa to take her to the seaside for several weeks at the very least this summer if he wishes to see her restored to her former self. She gave him to understand that, but for her very real concern for her Husband’s health and happiness, she would—indeed, should—have stayed until Lizzy’s confinement—yet her duty to her Husband outweighed every other concern, even a Mother’s natural wish to be at her Daughter’s side. Kitty adds that my Father was unmoved by this rare outpouring of spousal affection, and retired to his library forthwith. It is fortunate that my Mother’s indifferent health did not prevent her calling upon Lady Lucas immediately following some restorative refreshment urged on her by Hill. Poor Kitty! Jane and I are resolved to have her with us as often as our Mother can do without her. It is too bad that she must be at my Mother’s beck and call in the absence of any other diversions.

You cannot write too often. Bless you.
E.D.