From Longbourn to Pemberley - Spring 1811

by M-C Ranger

  ‘But Lizzy, how did you come to learn of this, to hear of the sad misadventure of Miss Darcy?’

  Elizabeth then had to tell her sister, who continued to be astounded, how she came to be aware of this terrible story. This was the delicate part of the confession: how would she explain to Jane what she had learned all while keeping to herself the role and the reasons that had compelled Fitzwilliam Darcy to involve himself in separating her sister and Charles Bingley? Elizabeth coped with it honourably; it must be said that announcing that the Master of Pemberley had asked for her hand in marriage eclipsed all the other topics she might have been asked about. This was the case when Jane learned that her sister had refused the offer, and her sympathy turned immediately to Mr. Darcy, as unbelievable as this might seem. And such was Jane’s character, always ready to show compassion for the misery of others. Elizabeth was unable to keep from smiling in the face of this candour that she had deplored such a short time ago; now she reproached herself for even having thoughts such as these. In truth, she was much obliged to admit that her sister, Charlotte, and her friend Anne Elliot had all exhibited more judgement than she herself had. And so it was with great humility that she asked her sister for advice regarding George Wickham. Should they, on their return to Longbourn, reveal the true character of the young officer? But that would require revealing the embarrassing misadventure of poor Miss Georgiana. Mr. Darcy had expressly asked that she keep this a secret, Elizabeth remembered. The troupes shall soon be leaving for Brighton, explained Jane, who had received a letter from Kitty lamenting the coming loss. If this is so, we could abstain from talking about it, as the heart of the problem shall soon be leaving Meryton. This will resolve the thorny dilemma. Indeed, Jane concluded, now persuaded that there was no need to despair, the young man in question could, with some luck, some good faith and some willingness, perhaps remedy his ways.

  *****

  ‘Look over there, Maria, in Leicester Square, it’s The Panorama by Mr. Barker.’

  ‘I am so excited by the idea of going to see it. But where is Malta, Elizabeth? You know that I am not very good in geography.’

  ‘It’s in the Mediterranean, south of Sicily. It will surely be interesting, all the more because the exhibit has been highly successful.’

  ‘You see, it’s displayed in a rotunda, which was built specifically for this purpose,’ Jane explained to the girl. One of my acquaintances, Miss Jane Fairfax, told me that she had seen the city of Dublin there.’

  ‘Had you not written to me that Miss Fairfax had long been the companion to Emily Campbell, Aunt Madeline’s niece?’ asked Elizabeth.

  ‘Yes, and she told me of having come here with Miss Campbell, who, at the time, did not know that she would be marrying a certain Mr. Dixon, whose estate is in Ireland.’

  ‘How strange fate can be! In a manner of speaking, Miss Campbell was able to see Dublin just before going there. Perhaps one of us will go to Malta one day, who knows?’ exclaimed Maria Lucas.

  At that very moment, Mr. Gardiner approached the young ladies, tickets in hand. He was accompanied by a gentleman who seemed amiable and he hastened to present him to them.

  ‘My nieces, Miss Bennet and her sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and Miss Maria Lucas. This is Mr. Louis Simond, a great traveller who spent some twenty years in America. We met one another at one of my agent’s, Mr. Biggs, who had written a letter recommending him.’

  ‘My ladies, I am enchanted to make your acquaintance. Mr. Gardiner was kind enough to take me to visit one of the warehouses, where a shipment from Ceylon was just being unloaded.’

  ‘Are you interested in tea importation, Mr. Simond? Do you not find this to be a rather surprising interest for a traveller?’ asked Maria Lucas.

  ‘It is true that this may seem surprising,’ said Louis Simond, smiling, ‘but you see, young lady, it is precisely this which interests during my journeys. I travel through a region in quest of learning of its customs and habits. I have been visiting London and its various districts for a few weeks now, and that, dear Bennet ladies, is how I met your uncle.’

  ‘Without knowing it, we found ourselves purchasing tickets at the same time,’ continued Mr. Gardiner. ‘And so I invited Mr. Simond to join us.’

  ‘It would be a great pleasure, Mr. Gardiner. However, it is not my wish to impose myself upon you and disrupt your plans or those of these young ladies.’

  Jane and Elizabeth showed themselves to be delighted at being able to speak with someone who had lived in a distant land. As for Maria, she would again have something extraordinary to recount to Sally Morris and to most pretentious Janet Long, who believed that she knew everything and who tried regularly to parade her knowledge.

  The conversation over dinner at the Gardiner’s was very animated, as the guests had truly valued what they had seen at The Panorama, in addition to enjoying the presence of Mr. Simond. He had proven to be an attentive companion whose comments had demonstrated a great deal of worldly experience and which had enlightened the visit immensely. To conclude this special day, Mr. Gardiner had brought home some tea from Ceylon, which was soon infused, whereupon the tea’s various subtleties were discussed at length. They were in London, and the weather on this evening of May 9th was mild when Elizabeth sat down at the piano to perform Allegro. While playing the first movement of Mozart’s Sonata facile, she found herself thinking of Mr. Darcy. What surprised her was that these thoughts were not the least bit unpleasant.

  Chapter VI

  In which one must agree that

  correspondence alone cannot express

  the emotions and sentiments

  experienced in this story

  At almost the same moment, at the other end of the city, Miss Georgiana Darcy, on her brother’s arm, sweetly declared that she had spent a lovely evening getting caught up in the trickery of Don Alfonso when he double-crossed Dorabella and his sister. And poor Despina, who was the instrument of this ridiculous web of intrigue! Fitzwilliam Darcy smiled at her, happy to see her finally cheerful, even if he did not really have it in his heart to laugh. He helped her into the carriage, which was awaiting them not far from the Lyceum Theatre.

  ‘You are right, that trickery was ridiculous, though it was rather funny. However, I found at times that the innuendos uttered by certain characters were not necessarily appropriate for the chaste ears of a young lady.’

  ‘Fitzwilliam, I’m no longer a child! Mr. Lorenzo Da Ponte must have had great fun writing the libretto. Everything was comical and entertaining; incidentally, it is up to everyone to speculate on the true story, is it not?’

  ‘Perhaps you are right, Georgie. I am being peevish and old-fashioned, please excuse me,’ he said, looking over Pall Mall while the carriage made its way to St. James Street.

  It was best to not end the discussion on a negative note; Georgiana was regaining her confidence and it was up to him to encourage this, particularly as he had been anxiously awaiting signs of healing.

  ‘Perhaps in real life, one could summarise everything with “I deceived, but I was deceived,” what do you think?’ he suggested, turning towards her.

  The effect was not at all what he had expected; the girl withdrew into a corner of the Berlin carriage, prostrate, with tears in her eyes. Darcy, taken aback, repeated these words to himself and understood his younger sister’s consternation.

  ‘Georgie,’ he said, moving to sit beside her and taking her hand. ‘Georgie, I was not thinking of that, please believe me. It was in no way an allusion to Ramsgate. On the contrary, I was overjoyed at the pleasure you had this evening and my wish was to make you smile again.’

  ‘Oh! It is entirely my fault, Fitzwilliam. I still react too strongly when all this comes back to me, can you excuse me?’ she stammered, accepting the handkerchief that he graciously offered her. ‘Yes, I was deceived, but I also deceived you by hiding from you that...’

  ‘Shush, Georgie, do not reproach yourself. Your youth and your trusting nature were put to the
test in the vilest of ways. I am the one who is at fault. I had promised our father that I would watch over you, and I failed.’

  ‘No, you are a marvellous big brother, and though I may relapse on occasion, I want you to know that I am feeling better and better,’ she reassured him, wiping away the last of her tears.

  He smiled tenderly at her.

  ‘So what were you thinking of when you said that?’

  ‘Bah! Nothing important,’ stated Darcy, turning to look outside.

  ‘In my opinion, “nothing important” is a relative term. I know you better than you think, Fitzwilliam!’

  He slowly turned to look at his younger sister, and for a few moments, he seemed to be giving what she had just said some serious thought. She saw this as an invitation to continue.

  ‘There is something I’d like to talk to you about. But I fear that you will not like what I am going to tell you,’ said the girl, lowering her eyes.

  ‘Come, Georgie, we had promised each other that we would be frank and not let a situation deteriorate without informing each other, hadn’t we? You can confide your secrets in me and I will attempt to respond as best as I possibly can.’

  ‘It’s just that, this is something that concerns you directly.’

  ‘Concerns me? Even better that we discuss it, if it’s worrying you,’ stated her brother, growing increasingly attentive to his sister’s words.

  ‘Well, here it is. In the fortnight since you have returned, you... you haven’t been the same. Oh! Rest assured, you continue to show me affection and kindness, but.... I find you are more melancholic; you are more.... taciturn. I was wondering if this had to do with my behaviour. Do you understand?’

  ‘Georgie,’ he said, kindly, being sure that she looked straight in his eyes, ‘Let me assure you that you having nothing to do with my periods of reflection.’

  ‘So is this due to something that happened during your stay in Kent?’ interrupted his younger sister, somewhat relieved by her brother’s response. ‘Yet in your letters, you told me your time there was very pleasant.’

  ‘I cannot deny that I am going through something difficult, but I shall soon be better. Don’t worry,’ Darcy said, trying to reassure her.

  ‘But I am worried, and it hurts me to see you like this. Can you not share some of your “reflections” with me? It will seem less of a weight for you to shoulder.’

  Lost in thought, he turned to look at the street while the carriage turned onto Piccadilly. For the first time in a very long time, he felt the need to confide in someone. He, so reserved, wondered what he could say to his younger sister to make her understand what he was experiencing without going into great detail. And opening himself up to his sister would perhaps allow her to feel worthy of being trusted, being trusted by him. He closed his eyes, and began.

  ‘You asked me, a few moments ago, why I had said, “I deceived, but I was deceived.” Well, it is because this statement touched me, personally.’

  Georgiana compassionately placed her hand on her brother’s arm, but remained silent, attentive to what he would share with her.

  ‘I have had to seriously look closely at myself ever since I returned. I was made aware of some of my manners, which were not without fault.’

  ‘Come, that is not possible, Fitzwilliam, you are a marvellous brother!’ exclaimed Georgiana, astonished at what she was hearing.

  This was followed by a silence, during which the clip-clop of hooves on pavement and the comings and goings on the corner of Old Bond Street could be heard.

  ‘Georgie, I am not talking about the brother I am, but of the master of Pemberley, of the man who bears the Darcy name. Of the man who can, at times, be disdainful, haughty, and who shows little concern for the emotions of others. You understand, do you not?’ he asked, his voice full of emotion.

  ‘My lord! Fitzwilliam, according to you, you are arrogant and egotistical, which is far from the truth, I swear. Who could have possibly been so blind as to not see your generosity and all the attention you bestow on those around you? Who, may I ask?’

  ‘My dear little sister, it is so kind of you to come to my defence. But I assure you that, in this last little while, I seriously examined my conscience, and I must admit that the reproaches made against me were justified.’

  ‘But who?’ repeated the girl, moved by her older brother’s confession. ‘I am guessing that this happened during your stay at Aunt Catherine’s. Who could possibly have made reproaches such as these? Under what circumstances could this person have judged you so unfavourably?’

  ‘No, this person was correct, Georgie, it was my pride that...’

  ‘In my opinion, Fitzwilliam, this person is the victim of prejudices,’ interrupted Georgiana, kissing him on the cheek.

  The carriage had reached Grosvenor Square, and it was decided that a change of subject would be welcome. And thus, when John opened the door so that they could descend from the carriage, they were discussing the opening andante, which Darcy had enjoyed, as well as the oboe solo, which had deeply moved his sister with its emotional qualities. Only a discerning observer would have noticed that Miss Darcy was gripping her brother’s arm more tightly and that he had affectionately placed his large hand over her small one.

  *****

  It was when he was leaving Jackson’s on Stafford Street that Darcy ran into John Knightley. The latter enthusiastically exclaimed, ‘Fitzwilliam Darcy! What a coincidence. George gave me a letter addressed to you, and by chance, I happened upon you! How are you? And your young sister? George was worried that his letter would not reach you in time and that you were already on your way to Derbyshire.’

  ‘John, what a pleasure to meet you here! My sister and I will still be in London for a short time, as I have various matters to attend to that require my presence here. Your wife and children are fine?’

  ‘Yes, everyone is doing wonderfully, including our latest addition! An adorable little girl, whom we’ve named Emma, after her aunt.’

  ‘Congratulations! Please give Mrs. Knightley my deepest regards. And you, John, are you getting ready for a little session of boxing, perhaps?’ asked Darcy, in a light-hearted tone.

  ‘No, in fact, I’ve just come from the library,’ stated John Knightley, pointing at the door nearby. ‘I found several books that will keep everyone happy during our stay at the sea. But even if I do not go to the gymnasium, it seems apparent that you go there, or am I mistaken?’

  ‘No, you are correct. Since returning from Kent, I have come here several times. I find it helps me distance myself from the pressure that so often arises from current issues and news that is rather bleak. When one sees how things are going with respect to agriculture, the factories, the war against the Napoleonic armies, one can only wonder how things will continue.’

  If Darcy had mentioned everything that was going through his mind, he might have added that nothing was better than boxing and fencing when it came to distancing oneself from disappointment, frustration and affliction. However, he realised that the heart had its quiet reasons that the body did not; this is why the latter could surpass and stimulate itself, and above all, release tension, in full sight of everyone, something that was not, alas, the case for the heart.

  ‘It’s true, news about Wellington and the Battle of Fuentes de Onõro is slowly reaching us, and what can be said about the banknotes crisis? The act passed in the House of Commons regarding the Bank of England’s commitments is incomprehensible!’

  ‘I have never hidden the fact that I am a Tory, but I really do not stand behind the decisions made by Spencer Perceval and his government. They will lead to nothing more than risky speculation, which will not resolve public unrest.’

  ‘For this reason, Darcy, I am convinced that you will find solace in returning to your estate, far from all this chaos, although I fear that it will catch up with us in the near future,’ John Knightly pointed out, his air thoughtful.

  ‘You are right. I would like to hear George’s o
pinion regarding this.’

  ‘On that note, here is the letter he gave to me, and if I am not mistaken, it is an invitation; you will therefore be able to discuss it at leisure. And if you come through Brunswick Square, do not hesitate to stop and see us!’ John Knightley finished, warmly.

  Darcy put the letter in his inside pocket and cordially returned the greetings. This exchange was more or less delightful, both in terms of its content and its amicable tone, making Darcy’s route home more pleasant than his route to the gymnasium. At times like this, even the smallest detail of this nature made a difference.

  John Constable’s painting would be hung at Pemberley, but in the meantime, Darcy had placed it on the mantle in his library, where he admired it while sipping on brandy. He had decided to indulge himself and had purchased Landscape with Cottages. Strangely, with this purchase, the anguish he had been enduring had waned somewhat; in the end, he came to the realisation that the work that he admired reminded him of Elizabeth Bennet, which did him some good. It would be a memory, a fleeting impression; his own way of having her here at Pemberley. The sound of voices brought him back to the present.