by Linda Phelps
“And you will be forced to find a new way to tease me,” cried Caroline. “Feel free to continue to praise my beauty! I rather like that.”
“You have my promise,” said William, “and now I must make my farewell. When next we meet, you will be the wife of a fine and very wealthy man.”
Caroline did not deny it. She rose and shook his hand. “Until we meet again. Mr. Longstreet, I pray you, release my hand.” He raised it to his lips and kissed it before setting it free. Caroline was about to laugh at this bit of silliness, but something in his eyes stopped her
Darcy’s Journal (en route to Pemberly)
It is pleasant to be going home. My grooms have stationed my horses every twenty miles or so, enabling me to make excellent time. The long summer hours of daylight are perfect for fast travel. I expect to be at Pemberly tomorrow, well in time for dinner. No one expects me until the day after, but I am sure my bed will be made and my meal will appear in short order. Mrs. Reynolds is a true ‘treasure’ of a housekeeper.
While riding, I had no thought of Elizabeth until I passed a farmer’s wife tending to her little garden full of flowers. She had done much to make it beautiful to anyone who passes by, roses and asters and delphinium in every colour. Somehow it reminded me of walking with Elizabeth at Rosings. We came across a patch of narcissus, just blooming in the cool spring air. Elizabeth stooped to gather a few for Mrs. Collins, but one she gave to me that I could examine its colour and freshness.
I kept that flower until it was wilted and dry, its fragrance gone forever. Yesterday I remembered that I had put it in a book to preserve it. I found the book and threw the flower away. My thoughts are now only of Caroline Bingley, who will soon be my wife.
Miss Bingley’s Journal (en route to Pemberly)
This journey begins to become rather tedious. I am fond of my brother Hurst, who rides with us in the carriage, but he does not have many words to say. He says he prefers to spend as much of the ride as possible in a state of sound sleep, for he says that then the time seems to pass more quickly. Louisa and I have exhausted the gossip about Anne Longstreet and her expected child. We have spoken of everyone we know about whom there is anything interesting to say.
I have asked Georgiana to call me by my Christian name. She seemed to think that a bit of an honour. After all we will soon be sisters, so the respect she must show me as her elder is becoming irrelevant.
Louisa and I began to recount to dear Georgiana the plots of various plays we have seen this season and in seasons past. If either Louisa or I forgot an important element of the story, the other was quick to break into the narrative and provide the missing element. We told her also of the costumes the female performers had worn, with the caveat that had she been present she would have been shocked to see ladies performing on the stage as if it were nothing. She was entirely entertained by our conversation, only occasionally drawing our attention to a scene of natural beauty through which we were passing. Her understanding of the picturesque is not what one would hope, but I suppose she has never had leisure to explore the characteristics of true natural loveliness.
Tomorrow Louisa and I will narrate the plots of some novels we have read. Dear Georgiana will be vastly entertained.
Miss Georgiana Darcy’s Journal (en route to Pemberly)
This inn is rather more comfortable than the one where we stopped last night. The dinner was nicely prepared, although the sisters did not give it high marks. They considered the vegetables to be inferior in some way to those to which they are accustomed. For myself, I thought they were well cooked and much fresher than anything we have had in town these last weeks.
Yet I wonder, will this journey never end? I do so long for a bit of quiet and privacy! The sisters feel that any moment of silence would violate a tenet of good breeding, hence their continual sociability. The first day they talked only of people they knew in town, and since I am not in familiar circumstances with many of these, it was only necessary that I interject “No!” or “I can barely believe such a thing” at intervals. It was not necessary for me to listen.
Today, however, they decided to amuse me by telling the plots of every play that they have seen in London. One sister would start to tell the story, but then without fail the other would break in. “You forgot to mention that the horse was grey,” or “The mother’s name was Agatha, not Annabella,” or “Don’t omit the part where the handkerchief is stolen by the false friend.”
This last may have been Othello, although I can’t be certain.
Tomorrow we will be in Derbyshire. The country is so lovely that even the sisters might take an interest in it. They have told me of every play they’ve seen, so what is left? I myself shall look for the first glimpse of Lambton, for then I can know we are nearly to Pemberly.
What sort of mistress will Miss Caroline be? Will she love the place as Brother and I do, or will she take greater pleasure in her elevated station and wealth?
Darcy’s horse picked up her pace as they neared Pemberly. Like her master, she was glad to see familiar sights. She knew she could expect that a stable hand would clean the dirt of the road from her and give her a bucket of water. Her stall would be carpeted with fresh straw, and she would be given an apple to eat.
Darcy shared her anticipation. It would be good to be home where he could more easily deal with some of the many items of finance that came with the management of a great estate. His mind ran through the expected harvests and the costs of transporting them to towns and cities.
He wondered if the pianoforte he had bought for Georgiana would arrive in time to be positioned and tuned before she saw it. He looked forward to a bath and a change from his dusty clothes. Mrs. Reynolds would prepare him a dinner, far superior to anything he had eaten at inns as he traveled.
His horse turned with confidence onto the road that led to the house and stables. As he rode, Darcy examined the road itself to see that it was well maintained. An occasional branch threatened to knock his hat away. He would tell the grounds keepers to remove them.
At the next turn he reined the horse to look with satisfaction on the house itself. It was his, to be left to the sons he and Caroline would have. He pictured her seated on the great lawn that led to the lake, surrounded by them and perhaps a pretty little daughter or two. She would have tea brought to share with her children rather than dismissing them to their nursery. She would love them as his own mother had loved him when he was small.
Then, without him willing it to do so, the image of Caroline faded away, and it was Elizabeth who sat on the lawn, surrounded by their children. It was she who called to the children to come have a sandwich and a piece of cake. Her voice was musical and full of love and laughter.
This picture came so easily to him that he took alarm. “I will not think of her again,” he promised the horse, and shook his head to bring it to its usual rational state. “That is over. I cannot have her and it does no good to for me to think of her as she would be had she accepted my offer. Caroline will be the perfect mistress for Pemberly. Doubtless some of the furnishings have gone out of fashion. She will know how to repair that.”
Darcy rode the horse to the stable, then dismounted and followed it to its stall, giving the groom instructions for cooling her. Then he turned to go to his house, and saw –Elizabeth!
For the briefest moment he thought he had again lost the iron control he kept on his imagination, but within seconds he saw that it was she. Their eyes met. He felt the blood rise to his head. She co-loured and turned away.
Darcy had only time to realize that she was accompanied by a well dressed older couple. She took a step toward them. She would leave if he did not speak to her! “Miss Bennet,” he said. He was aware that the dust from the road coated his clothes and face.
Elizabeth turned to face him, looking not at him, but somewhere over his shoulder. In his shock, Darcy could scarcely bring the accustomed words of greeting to his lips. At last he said, “I am delighted to see you.” She
looked at him doubtfully, surely remembering, as he did, their last exchange at Rosings Park.
“Thank you, sir,” said she. “It is a pleasure to see you.”
By degrees they were able to discuss the beauty of the day, the health of members of their families, and the health of other common acquaintances from their days at Netherfield. He inquired about sights she had seen during her travels, but in an abstracted way. He could no more attend to what he heard than Elizabeth could to what she said.
At length, every idea failed him. He stood for a moment, then turned and said, “If you will excuse me,” and entered the house. He watched through a window as the gardener guided Elizabeth and her companions onto a path in a wood. They would surely be gone for some time. He knew the pride this gardener had in this land. He would allow no detail to go unnoticed.
Darcy bathed and changed into fresh clothes and then hurried down stairs. With relief he saw that the carriage which had brought Elizabeth sat empty, exactly where he had seen it before. The group was still somewhere on the grounds of Pemberly. He paced from the house to the lake and back again awaiting their return. At length he saw them at the little bridge. Their distance from him was considerable. They would not soon be back at the house.
Darcy repeated to himself everything he wished to say to Elizabeth. Would she recognize that he had heeded much of her criticism? “I must show no sign of pride,” he reminded himself. “I must be civil.” The group progressed slowly toward the house. They seemed to pause every minute so that the man could watch the water and converse with the gardener. At length he could wait no longer and set out to meet them on the path.
Elizabeth had regained much of her poise. She began as they met to admire the beauty of the place. “It is charming,” said she. “We have had a delightful walk.”
“I am happy you have seen it,” said Darcy. “May I ask to be introduced to your companions?”
“With pleasure,” said Elizabeth. She led him to the couple. “Mr. Darcy, my aunt and uncle Gardiner.”. Darcy remembered a spring evening at the Rosings Park rectory. Unwillingly he recalled a passage from the letter he had written to her upon her rejection of his hand.
“The situation of your mother’s family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison to that total want of propriety so frequently betrayed by herself and your sisters…”
Now he met the brother of Mrs. Bennet and his wife. He had believed that the entire family, excepting only Elizabeth and Jane, was ill bred. Here was an exceptionally attractive couple who greeted him with good nature but without fulsome praise. Aware that Elizabeth was watching him, he summoned every bit of civility he had rehearsed since their quarrel. He was willing to welcome the couple for Elizabeth’s sake, but he soon realized that their presence was pleasing in itself. Certainly there was nothing shameful in the bearing of this man and woman.
The conversation turned upon fishing, and learning of Mr. Gardiner’s fondness for the sport, Darcy invited him to come fish whenever he wished, offering to supply him with fishing tackle and pointing out those paths on the stream where one was most likely to meet with success. While walking to the bank of the river, he and Elizabeth drew ahead of the other couple. Once they were at a distance where they could not be overheard, Elizabeth spoke. “Mr. Darcy, I wish you to know that we were assured that you were absent from Pemberly. Your house keeper too told us you were not expected until tomorrow or we would surely not have presumed on your privacy in this manner.”
Darcy, sensing her embarrassment, kept himself from saying how extremely welcome she was at his home. “I came ahead of the party with whom I was traveling. They will join me tomorrow, and among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with you, Mr. Bingley and his sisters.” Elizabeth nodded but did not speak. Perhaps she remembered the last time Bingley’s name had been mentioned between them. “Among them,” Darcy continued, “there is one other person who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?”
“I would be honoured, sir,” said Elizabeth. Her eyes surveyed the grounds of Pemberly and she did not see him smile.
Darcy’s Journal (Pemberly)
Although I cannot guess what forces have been at work, I most heartily thank them. When I left the stable I found myself face to face with Elizabeth! At first I could not believe what I was seeing, but once I took a breath and a step, there was no doubt. It was she, here at Pemberly! I could not at that time begin to imagine how this meeting had come about, but she soon told me she was touring the area with an aunt and uncle, that they had come here after being assured that I was not in residence, and that she apologized for her presence. Indeed I was not expected until tomorrow, but came on ahead to conduct business with my steward before my guests should arrive. Suppose I had not done so! Elizabeth would have come and gone and I never knowing of it.
At length I met her aunt and uncle Gardiner, and a fine-looking, well bred couple they are. I have invited the Mr. Gardiner to come to fish any time he pleases. They stay at the inn at Lambton, which is only four miles from here. I begged them to come into the house for some refreshment, but they would not.
I choose to believe that Elizabeth showed no sign of her previous dislike. On the contrary, she seemed reticent, a quality she has never before displayed to me. Her easy manners were at no time on display. I expect she was too surprised to see me to resume their practice. It is very likely both of us were remembering our last conversation at Rosings Park. I made every effort to demonstrate that I am no longer the prideful, arrogant man whose hand she refused. I have asked permission to introduce my sister to her. “There is a person who most particularly wishes to be known to you,” I said. This is not strictly true. Georgiana has never heard so much as Elizabeth’s name, but I will easily convince her to share my delight.
I can now only try to sleep while I wait for the morrow and a chance to be again with Elizabeth.
Miss Bingley’s Journal (Pemberly)
I cannot express my delight upon coming to Pemberly. Darcy will need several days to display it all to me. What I have seen is a series of perfect rooms with exquisite furnishings, each with windows revealing a view of great symmetry and beauty. My own quarters are elegant and comfortable, much finer than Louisa’s The maid assigned to them tells me that dear Darcy wrote ahead to make sure these rooms are ready for me. He would have me stay nowhere else. Could any woman hope for a more thoughtful husband?
He has taken dear Georgiana off to call upon friends. I could see that she wished to protest; we have been here no more than two hours, but in the end she agreed, taking time only to change from her traveling clothes while Darcy ordered fresh horses for the carriage. Now that I have seen the new dress she wears, I am convinced its style reflects what she has learned from me about fashion.
These three days apart from dear Darcy while we traveled seemed long. Even now I wait impatiently to see him in the drawing room and at dinner, where I will have the place of honour as his hostess. I pray I become accustomed to such tributes to the point that they will be customary once we are married.
Mistress of Pemberly! I will be mistress of Pemberly.
Miss Georgiana Darcy’s Journal (Pemberly)
How wonderful to be home after all these months! The weather and countryside were at the peak of beauty as we traveled, but I found it impossible to sit in quiet admiration in the carriage when we entered the road that leads to the house. For once the sisters were silent except when turning from side to side to point at the woods and the lake and the grounds leading up to the house. I need not mention that they found all to be ‘delightful!’ Even Mr. Hurst came awake to see at what sort of place he was about to stay.
However, my joy at being once again at Pemberly was almost lost when Brother insisted that we must leave immediately to call on friends. I am happy I did not argue, for once we were in the carriage, he confided that the friends include
d “a young woman I met when I stayed at Netherfield”. “Is it Elizabeth Bennet?” asked I, which question seemed to surprise him. “How do you know of her?” he asked. I smiled and said, “I think you do not remember how many times have mentioned her in a letter to me.” “I am sure I never did,” said Brother, but I promised to show him that very letter once we were back in town. “I have told her that you particularly wanted to make her acquaintance,” said he. “And indeed I do,” said I. I did not tell him that I know that Mr. Bingley has a particular interest in her. How unpleasant it would be if the two friends had a falling out over the affections of this Elizabeth!
“But is she not a particular friend of the sisters?” I asked this innocently, for I would not burden Brother with the knowledge that the sisters have no respect for “Lizzy” But there is still a mystery? Why did not Mr. Bingley go to his home in Hertfordshire so as to be able to call on her? Are these two dearest men rivals for her hand? Perhaps I have read too many novels.
Brother acts with the same impetuosity that I displayed during the time I was in love with W. For a moment I feared Miss Elizabeth Bennet might be a female W. a fortune hunter, but then what is Caroline Bingley if not that? I did hope that Miss Bennet would not be another Caroline Bingley. I planned to greet her with my most amiable smile, one I have exercised constantly since the sisters came into my life.
But Miss Bennet was nothing like Miss Bingley. First, I noticed that her smile seemed sincere. Although she has known Brother much longer than she has known me, she did not treat him in a familiar manner. She turned the conversation to music once she discovered my interest. I stayed very silent, answering her questions and sometimes venturing a remark, but in truth I was thinking of the future. Miss Bennet has her own kind of good looks, unlike those of Miss Bingley. Her dress was not too elegant for her station or her surroundings. Her aunt and uncle, with whom she is traveling, seem to be both amiable and respectable.