More Letters From Pemberley (6 page)

Dearest Husband,

Jane was brought to bed of a boy last evening, to be named George Edward. I believe he will be a fine Gentleman for he showed excellent manners in arriving in the early evening, and made a very short business of it. We are all grateful, with the sole exception of young Frederick Charles, who would prefer his Brother to be sent on his way with all haste! Now almost two, he seems to feel his position in the household to be in jeopardy. Poor little Frederick, he is finding life altogether unkind thus far! I suggested to Jane that perhaps his new Brother might bring a special present for Frederick’s birthday next month, to make amends. Needless to say, Annie, so very fond of her elder Cousin, finds his behaviour most perplexing, but is very loyal, never crying when he takes toys from her, or won’t play with her. Nurse assures me that this objectionable behaviour is perfectly normal in two- and three-year-olds, and will soon pass.

Your Daughter continues to be enamoured of her younger Sister—still her Rosebud. Nurse and I are mindful of not excluding her, and encourage Annie to help tend to Cassie. She is a happy Child; I have many a kiss in the course of the day, and many a laugh at her droll little ways. At bedtime she enquires after her Papa when she misses her goodnight kiss: When does Papa return? Will it be soon?

Lest you think I have joined the ranks of Lady Mansfield’s regiment of women who talk of nothing but their Children, I shall cease forthwith! Nor should you think that my days are so occupied that I have no time to miss my dearest Love. Quite to the contrary, I assure you. Knowing that Jane is safe, I long to be home and for your own return some three days after—if the many pleasures of London do not contrive to delay you! Mr. Bingley begs me mention that he hopes to accept your invitation to shoot at Pemberley in March. George Edward’s christening will probably take place the first week of the month and they will join us thereafter. The Daleys, too, if Margaret’s Father is well enough to be left at home. Let us hope so. While her concern for her Father is admirable, she is denied much pleasure as a consequence of her devotion to him. It would give me particular joy to have an opportunity of improving my acquaintance with that Family, but shall not indulge any expectation of it soon.

The weather here of late has been quite depressing: a little snow, much rain and howling winds. This morning, though it is really too muddy even for such a desperate walker as your Wife, I nevertheless braved the elements and took a short walk hereabouts, returning much refreshed having seen small signs of spring in the hedgerows. Are we not fortunate to have such beautiful countryside around us—how I pity you, my Dear, confined the whole day in dreary banks and offices, and a long list of commissions from an inconsiderate Wife. But no, I should not feel too sorrowful on your account when I recollect that the theatre, Almack’s, Vauxhall, and all manner of diversions lie at your feet. Enjoy them all, my Love, but think fondly on the Woman who loves you above all others, who longs for your return and the warmth of your embrace—who else, but your

Elizabeth

My dear Aunt,

Thank you for your letter, which found me at the breakfast table with a sole companion, my dear Husband.

These past weeks we have enjoyed the considerable pleasure of having for company the Bingleys and Daleys. It was a very agreeable visit. There was everything to make it so: kindness, conversation and variety. Mr. Darcy had been keen to arrange a shooting party for the Gentlemen, so we fixed on March following Mr. Darcy’s return from town and George Edward’s christening. (Jane, you should know, has made a good recovery, though still a little pale.)

While the men were at their sport, we women found time to visit all the principal walks, including your favourite, the one around the top of the park. When the weather did not allow for sport, the men played at billiards.

Mrs. Daley, Margaret, was especially welcome. I have long wanted to know her better, but her loyalty to her Father is such that she is seldom from home as he is seldom in health. (I do not recall, have you met her at Pemberley? If you have heard all this before, pray excuse me.) Such devotion to a parent in a young, married woman might indicate a more staid manner than is the reality: she is very pleasant, cheerful and interested in everything about her, and at the same time showing a thoughtful, considerate and decided turn of mind. Fortunately, her devotion extends to her doting Husband, a Gentleman I have long admired, whose patience and forbearance with their domestic situation may even exceed her own.

We had lively discussions about the new novel,
Emma,
which by chance we had both lately read. Margaret did not like it so well as
Sense and Sensibility
and
Mansfield Park
by the same authoress. I, on the other hand, detested Fanny Price (as you well know) but the adorable Emma Woodhouse, despite (or perhaps because of) her many faults is so perfectly delightful, that I even forgive the authoress her dedication to the Prince Regent. I shall welcome your opinion when you next write. Mrs. Daley, by the bye, has heard rumours that the authoress is a Miss Austen, residing in Hampshire, and also tells me that Sir Walter Scott (upon whom we were able to agree!) has written a review of
Emma
in this month’s
Quarterly Review.
Jane, who had not yet read
Emma,
disagreed vigorously with me on the simpering, virtuous Fanny Price, so you see we did not lack for spirited conversation or entertainment.

The Children, too, had great fun. One morning Annie and Frederick Charles were taken by their Fathers to the stables where they had such a time with the horses, squealing with excitement and laughter as they were hoisted upon their mounts and walked around the courtyard. Young Frederick appears to have accepted that his Brother is here to stay and is of a better disposition than when I last saw him. The two youngest Cousins eat and sleep and gurgle and cry and smile as well or better than other Infants, and are naturally a source of delight and wonder to their doting Mothers.

I trust this finds you and my Uncle and Cousins in good health.

Affectionately,
E.D.

My dear Charlotte,

I was very glad of your letter this morning, for Annie keeping to her bed with a cold, which she generously gifted to her Father, has made us rather dull. Annie is most trying in her misery and refuses to understand why she may not see her Sister. Nurse and I attempt to entertain her with books, dolls and games, but none of these find favour for long. Otherwise, I am as well as one can expect to be in weather which deprives one of exercise; we have nothing but ceaseless rain and insufferable mud to complain of. Thankfully, the weather is my sole complaint for the hay was already brought in and the house has been fragrant with the scent of jams and jellies. The rain will swell the apples, no doubt, which may be of more importance to the world in general, but I selfishly long for a dry summer day to take myself on a long walk, with the reward of an incomparable view of the Peaks, of which I shall never tire, at the end of it.

Yes, I fear Mr. Collins’s intelligence is correct, though I regret that the unfortunate circumstance has been made so public. I know not the extent of Mr. Collins’ knowledge, but I have no secrets from you, dear Charlotte, and shall lay before you the whole, sorry story, leaving it to your discretion how much or how little of the following you feel obliged to share with others.

In a letter to Jane in April last, Lydia complained that she and Wickham, having had a miserable winter and spring (in part due to the cold weather but mostly due to pressing bills and debts) were in very low spirits and, needing to get away from the everyday tedium of the north, had in mind to set out for Bath, which they felt would restore them in every way. My Mother, having received a similar letter and agreeing wholeheartedly with the scheme, had hopes of improving upon it by persuading my Father to join them there. He, however, could not be prevailed upon, no matter how loudly and often she railed that his Wife’s health and nerves were in pressing need of Bath’s restorative waters. Chagrined, she sent Lydia a sum of money (without my Father’s knowledge) to assist with their expenses, whereupon Lydia ordered new clothes, whose cost exceeded by several pounds the sum my Mother had sent, thereby adding to the burden of their debts.

She then applied to Jane for assistance, who despite her reservations about the wisdom of the whole venture, was forthcoming and sent money, cautioning, however, that it might be wiser to use these funds to clear their debts and pay their bills; and further suggesting (dear Jane!) that they might save the expense of travelling to Bath by coming to stay at The Great House. For her trouble and generosity Jane received neither acknowledgement nor thanks.

Nothing further was heard from them until the beginning of June when Jane received a letter from Lydia, postmarked in Bath, that Wickham, having at first won a great deal of money at the gambling tables, proceeded then to lose it, and more besides (for which, Lydia insisted, some disreputable officers were at fault—certainly not her Husband). Now they found themselves in such deeply compromising circumstances that the very real threat of debtors’ prison lay before them!

Jane at once put the whole business before her Husband. The situation being beyond the scope of Mr. Bingley’s experience, they directly (and most unwillingly, having some limited knowledge of Mr. Darcy’s past dealings with Mr. Wickham) applied to Mr. Darcy for advice. His immediate thought was to do nothing at all—a spell in debtors’ prison at Bath might prove to be of more lasting benefit to the Wickhams than the waters, but upon reflection, and seeing our discomfort at the prospect of a Sister imprisoned, he undertook to engage the services of an attorney of his acquaintance in Bath, who might ascertain the extent and sum of these debts.

In due course, Mr. Tarnlow sent Mr. Darcy a long list (some three pages, closely written) of debtors with varying sums of money against their names. As he read, my Husband’s face grew darker and darker with anger.

“Lizzy, were it not for you and your Sister Jane, I should not put forth one penny to satisfy these debts. They are a selfish, worthless couple, who do not deserve the effort and money it will take to sort out their costly muddles—and you know as well as I, Lizzy, they won’t even thank us for our trouble, and will take it as their due! This will be the second time I have come to Wickham’s aid and somehow I must make sure it is the last.”

Kitty, meanwhile, informed us of the uproar at Longbourn. In desperation I suppose, Lydia had applied to my Mother for money, begging her to intercede with my Father and send funds for their relief. Once again, Mamma’s attempts to get him to rush off to Bath proved fruitless, and she took to her room. By now my Father was fully to blame for the disaster—had they been at Bath with the Wickhams, this could never have happened. First Brighton, now Bath, and her poor, poor Lydia, all alone and at the mercy of scurrilous ne’er-do-wells with no one to take her part, &c., &c. Moreover, by my Mother’s reckoning, Mr. Darcy was also at fault, if you please—he should have immediately set out for Bath to settle the business. With his connections and money the whole matter would have been over in a trice! It appears that only Jane and Mr. Bingley were quite blameless.

The outcome of the sorry affair was that, through Mr. Tarnlow, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy shared the expense of settling all outstanding bills and debts, saving Mr. Wickham not only from debtors’ prison, but also from the embarrassment of losing his commission. There was, however, a proviso in the agreement which Mr. Wickham was required to sign: that henceforth his pay and any other income will be sent directly to Mr. Tarnlow, from which Mr. T. will settle their bills, pay their rent and send them a small spending allowance sufficient for their daily needs. Wickham has also undertaken not to borrow money. Should it be discovered that debts have been incurred of which Mr. Tarnlow was not apprised and which he feels are unwarranted, the Colonel of W.’s regiment will be immediately notified and may take whatever steps he feels necessary to safeguard the honour of the regiment. Wickham’s Colonel has been made fully aware of these arrangements and of the circumstances which led to them. It is further stipulated that this is the last time either Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley will come to his aid.

Oh, Charlotte, how thankful I am that they yet have no Children, innocents who would surely suffer from the selfish acts of their Parents! When Lydia was here following Annie’s birth, I distinctly recall her saying, “Thank goodness we have not yet been blessed with Children. We are having so much fun that we should have no time for them if we did.”

We must now pray that in coming so close to the misery of a debtors’ prison, they have seen the inevitable consequences of continuing to live their previous, foolish lives and will mend their ways. I wish I could believe it.

How time flies—your Robert William three; little Catherine Maria a year old already, Annie two last month, and Cassie seven months. Lest I forget: as promised, I have written Aunt Gardiner that you would be much obliged for the pattern of the jacket and trousers, or whatever it is, that boys wear when they are first put into breeches. I have asked that she send it to you directly. I suppose that since Lady C. had no boys, this is a subject upon which she has no valuable advice to share?

As ever, my dear Friend,
E.D.

My dear Jane,

Pray, sit down. You will hardly believe what I am about to relate. Indeed, I can scarce believe it myself. Where to begin? Now, do not alarm yourself; there is no bad news. Not at all. No, no, it is good news, but of such a surprising nature that I am still recovering from the shock of it all. Such a to-do!

Forgive me, I am flustered and not in a proper state of mind. So, let me just state simply (for you would never guess)—our Sister, Mary, is engaged to be married! Her betrothed is a Mr. Dudley Digweed, a clerk in Uncle Philips’ law office in Meryton, with “excellent prospects,” she writes. (Mr. Digweed’s prospects will surely improve even further and faster with this alliance to his employer’s family? Of course, I do not mean to suggest that his reasons for marrying Mary are purely practical in nature, so do not trouble yourself to scold me.)

Regrettably, Mary writes little more about Mr. Digweed than I have already related—no mention of his age, height, looks, character, income—merely adding that he shares her interest in music, and understands and respects the importance of her studies, which he insists she must continue after they are wed. I dare say we must be patient and hope that Kitty will furnish the particulars. However, I think we may safely assume that the Gentleman, as well as musical and studious in character, is also
impetuous
and
thrifty
, for Mary writes that a short engagement is planned (the banns are to be read next month). A wedding journey following the ceremony is not foreseen, and the wedding itself will be as simple as possible. Further, excessive frivolous expenditure is to be avoided at all costs. (This last direction must have pleased our Father immensely, do you not think?) A postscript adds that she expects neither of us to attend the marriage ceremony, but
should
we feel inclined to mark the occasion, a monetary gift would be most suitable.

By the bye, Mary asked me to relate these tidings to you (though our Mother, she added, admonished her severely for her ill-manners in doing so—rightly insisting that the occasion demanded individual announcements, especially to one’s own Sisters. Further, if she insisted upon only one announcement for the two of us, it should properly be addressed to you as the Eldest). Upon consideration, however, Mary decided that since she now has even less time to spare than previously, and since your two
Boys
must be more tiresome and demanding than my two
Girls,
I would naturally have more time at my disposal to write!

Well, now that I have now done my Sisterly duty, I suppose I can retire to my sofa for the rest of the day.

Ever yours,
E.D.