I told her, “We are sorry we’re late. Mama was afraid of leaving something behind, so she was frittering about the house most of the morning.”
Elizabeth said to our Mama, “There will be time to go back later if you fear you forgot something.”
Mama answered, “I am sorry, Elizabeth. You know how my nerves cannot abide any big changes.”
My sister told us, “Come inside and get out of the cold. I will show you to your rooms.”
We could hardly wait to see the baroque interior. What first caught my eye were the black and white checkered marble floor tiles and the great staircase which had a regally red carpet runner. We marveled at the painted hall which was decorated with murals showing scenes from the life of Julius Caesar. Along the staircase hung portraits of family members, Elizabeth told us.
Mama asked my sister to take us on a tour of the rest of the house and she readily agreed. She told the servants to take our luggage upstairs and make sure the fireplaces are lit in our bedrooms.
Elizabeth said, “Follow me. Have you ever seen the chapel? It is exquisite.”
We could hardly wait and trailed after her like eager puppies. The chapel is a baroque masterpiece. My sister told us that a priest comes to deliver Mass each Sunday and the people who live on the estate come to it, in addition to the family and guests who are visiting. The house has a music gallery, a sculpture galley, and an orangery.
Mama asked her how many rooms does the house have.
Elizabeth answered, “One hundred and twenty-six.”
“I feel sorry for the maids,” I couldn’t help but say.
Elizabeth agreed and told us that it takes a lot of work to maintain such a magnificent estate. We were surprised when she told us that the house has six libraries.
“Why so many?” I asked.
She replied, “The family prides itself on its collection of books. Darcy’s grandfather bought entire libraries from other houses.”
I love to read, so I was greatly anticipating the many hours I planned to spend in these glorious libraries. Elizabeth told us, “You two had better get dressed for dinner. We will be dining in an hour.”
Mama said, “Oh, yes. I must go to my room and get settled in. I don’t want to appear frazzled and tired-looking.”
My sister and I smiled at each other knowing that Mama is never satisfied with her looks: she has trouble accepting that fact that with her advancing years, she is no longer considered “a great beauty”.
Mama needn’t have worried about whether the gentlemen would still find her a beauty because Mr. Darcy was out of town and it would only be the three of us women dining tonight.
The opulence of the state dining room was breath-taking. In the middle of a long table was the gleaming collection of the Darcy family’s best silver: there were sparkling candelabras, salt cellars, and vases.
Mama was beside herself with excitement. “This is the most spectacular display of silver I’ve ever seen,” she gushed.
Elizabeth responded, “This is only a small part of the collection.”
“There’s more?” Mama asked, incredulously.
“Oh, yes. You shall see more when we have our dinner parties.”
To me, it seems like this ostentatious display of silver serves one primary purpose: to conspicuously dazzle guests into thinking that the Darcy’s were somehow grander than they were. I had to admit, however, that they had a splendid collection from what I could see.
I was glad that Mr. Darcy was not there since I wanted to ask my sister how she liked being “The Lady of the Manor”. She told us that she’s had trouble getting used to how formal everyone was here. Planning a dinner party was one of her least favorite things to do.
“Why?” I inquired.
Elizabeth told us that coming up with seating assignments per rank and status was one of her least favorite chores. She said, “I have to make sure that the appropriate gentlemen are paired off with ladies of the same status. Then, I have to arrange the diners in order of precedence for the formal promenade in to dinner.”
I asked, “Is it really called a ‘promenade to dinner’?”
She said, “Oh, yes. It’s very stately. Mr. Darcy’s responsibility is to escort the highest-ranking lady by the arm and I am to walk in with the highest-ranking gentleman. After the grand procession of couples enter the dining room, women and men sit in alternating seats all down the table. The man of the house sits his escort next to him on his right.”
As she was speaking, the butler, Mr. Parker, interrupted her by clearing his throat. He said, “Pardon me for interrupting, Madame, but would and your guests each like a glass of sherry?”
“That would be lovely, Parker. Thank you,” Elizabeth told him. While he was pouring the sherry, she asked him, “What wonderful meal has Cook created for us tonight?”
The butler was surprised that this lady of the manor did not know the answer since, traditionally, it is her job to go over the meals with the cook.
He said, “Cook has prepared turtle soup, a turbot of lobster with Dutch sauces, and red mullet with Cardinal sauce.”
“How scrumptious!” Mama could not help but exclaim. The butler rolled his eyes after hearing her choice of words.
The food was wonderful. I believe I shall be quite content living here at Pemberley.
1st of January 1819
Elizabeth and I made the most amazing discovery as we were going through some of our Papa’s papers. We had always wondered how the author of Pride and Prejudice knew so much intimate information about our family and it turns out that Papa had been corresponding with a Mr. Austen since their days at Harrow together. Mr. Austen apparently loved hearing all about the antics and tribulations of my family and shared this information with his daughter Jane. Papa had no idea that she was writing a book about us until after it was published. At first, he was furious with Mr. Austen for this invasion of privacy, but when he read the novel, he forgave his friend because he enjoyed it so much. How extraordinary! Why did Papa never tell us?
My sister and I are dying to meet this Jane Austen person. We hope she is still alive. How could we find out? We decided to write a letter to her at the last address her father used in his correspondence with Papa. Elizabeth and I both wanted to be the one to write the letter, but I deferred to her since she is the oldest. She also has more discretion than I do. She knows that I am not very pleased about the way my character was portrayed in Pride and Prejudice.
For the rest of the morning, I cloistered myself in one of Mr. Darcy’s amazing libraries and read Pride and Prejudice. I had never finished the novel, after reading the insults to my person; but decided to give it another chance now that I am older and hopefully wiser. I must admit, there were parts in it that I absolutely adored. I love it when the characters described the attributes of an “accomplished woman”. It was agreed that this woman should have “a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, all the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address, her expressions or the word will be but half deserved.” What Mr. Darcy said made me have even more respect for him: he added, “In addition to that, she must improve her mind by extensive reading.”
As I sit here in this beautiful library containing the favorite books of many generations of the Darcy family, I cannot help but think about the difference between a man’s life and a woman’s in terms of societal expectations. I’ve read many “courtesy books” while here also. They seem so old-fashioned in this day and age. I think that there is more to a woman’s life than being an “angel in the house”, as they describe her. These widely-read courtesy books were required reading when I was growing up. They often proclaim that women must learn, by playing an instrument, singing, and dancing, the whole science of pleasing potential husbands. According to the books, a woman’s decision to marry is the most important since her chief alternatives were to be either spinsters
, governesses, or heaven forbid, ladies of the evening.
Mr. Darcy has a liberal view of a woman’s role. I’ve heard him say that the fact that Elizabeth reads books and discusses ideas with him is the prime reason why he fell in love with her. Elizabeth is so lucky to have him. I wish I could find someone like him. I would love to hear a man like Darcy tell me that I have “bewitched him body and soul”. I wish he had a brother!
I’ve often asked myself, “Do I really want to get married?” Everyone expects me to. I’ve danced with gentlemen whom I’ve found attractive, but I wonder if they would expect me to be their “angel in the house”. I’d rather move out of the confines of the parlor and seek out knowledge and broader experience. My potential husband must share my views; otherwise, we may have a very unhappy marriage indeed.
I despise narrow-minded men who say things like, “Women ought to confine themselves to making puddings, knitting stockings, playing the piano, and embroidering bags.”
I have a very kind and patient brother-in-law. The first time I met him, I thought he was too pompous and disliked him tremendously. He offended all of us sisters when he refused to dance with us, telling Mr. Bingley, “Since your sisters are engaged, there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.” When my sister Elizabeth overheard him say this, it hardened her heart against him. We were all surprised when Mr. Darcy fell in love with her and asked for her hand in marriage. My Mama was in raptures. I am grateful that Miss Austen wrote so beautifully about the love affair of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. They are indeed an extraordinary couple.
24th September 1819
I can hardly believe my life these days. I am to be presented at court!! My sister told me that everyone in high society must be “presented” at some point so that one can attend a court ball or concert. She said, “Everyone ‘in society’ attends at least one court function a year.”
My sisters and I have chosen a very special dress for my presentation. The rules are very strict about what it should look like. It must possess a train that is three yards long. Mercy! I hope I do not trip over it. I am also to wear feathers placed at the back of my head that must be high enough to be visible to His Royal Highness when I enter the room. My neck and shoulders are to be bare, no matter how cold it might be.
Upon arriving at St. James’s, I must step out of the coach and fold my train over my left arm before I am ushered into the gallery of the palace. There, I will wait until I am summoned into the Presence Chamber. When I see The Prince Regent, my train is let down and spread out behind me by the lord-in-waiting. Then, my card is presented to the attendant who announces my name to the His Royal Highness. I must curtsey until I am practically kneeling and kiss the Prince Regent’s hand. After this, I rise, curtsey again, and leave the room walking backwards, never turning my face away from him. There are so many rules to remember and so many opportunities to trip and make a fool out of myself!
My sisters and I have been practicing the entire ritual, so that I can anticipate any problems ahead of time. The part I’m dreading the most is walking backwards. Goodness! Who comes up with all these formalities?
Another reason I must be “presented” is so that I can have a “coming out” party. The party is my official introduction to fashionable society. Its purpose is to let the world know that I am available for courtship; and most importantly—so the ladies say—available for marriage.
1st of October 1819
Since I was presented at court, I have been the focus of everyone’s interest. I have officially “come out”. Mama and I have been staying with my aunt and uncle in London. It is the height of “the season”. My life here is tremendously regimented. In the morning, we are up early to go riding in Hyde Park and then we go home for breakfast. Our days are spent making calls and presenting our cards to members of society so that they will know we have arrived in town. We usually have dinner at around six or seven in the evening. Afterwards we are off to a series of balls starting at ten and going until three o’clock in the morning sometimes. It’s exhausting, if truth be told. It seems like it’s such a superficial life. Frankly, I would rather be home cloistered in the library reading.
Everyone’s attention is focused on me and my finding a suitable husband. They say that if a girl does not get married after three seasons, it is hopeless. She’ll definitely be considered a permanent spinster if she hasn’t married by thirty. I’m starting to feel like I’m letting everyone down. I don’t want to rush into marriage. I’m hoping that I can find someone like Mr. Darcy. I want to marry for love and not as a social obligation. I would love to hear someone say to me how ardently they admire and love me, as Mr. Darcy had when he proposed to my sister.
I made a social misstep whilst here. I decided that I wanted to go for a walk by myself, just for a bit of fresh air, and a chance to enjoy nature. When I returned, my aunt was quite displeased with me. She told me that an unmarried girl does not walk alone and should always be accompanied by another lady, a man, or servant. There are so many silly rules. I’ve also learned that I mustn’t wear pearls or diamonds in the morning. How ridiculous it all is! When I am attending a ball, I mustn’t dance with the same partner for more than three songs. I can’t wait to get back to Pemberley!!
14th of October 1819
Today is my 24th birthday and I have some most exciting news! I am in love!! His name is Ashley Butler. I met him last week at a ball and it was love at first sight. He is very handsome and exotic. Why do I use the term “exotic”? Because he is a foreigner from across the seas. He is from America. He lives in the State of Virginia. I had to consult my uncle’s atlas to see where that State lies. I discovered that it is on the east coast between North Carolina and Maryland. I love to say the names of those faraway places aloud: they sound so romantic. He is here in London visiting his cousin who is in the House of Lords. All the ladies wanted to dance with him at the ball where we met. He has impeccable manners and we all simply adore his American accent. He is the first American I’ve ever met. I long to go to his country to see what his plantation looks like. Could I live permanently in America? I wonder. It would mean leaving all my friends and family behind and perhaps never seeing them again. That would be most difficult indeed. However, I long for a change in scenery. I am ready for an exciting adventure in a new land.
Well, I am perhaps being premature. After all, we have barely met. This afternoon we went to an exhibit at the Royal Academy and I was pleased to find that he admired all the paintings that I did. We especially like the landscapes by Mr. Turner. Tonight, he has invited me to see “The Rivals”, a comedy by Sheridan. Everyone is raving about how brilliantly funny it is.
I want to wear a dazzling outfit that will make me stand out from the crowd. Unfortunately, I don’t have enough time to have one made, but my aunt has loaned me one of her exquisite gowns and some of her jewels. I must admit that the dress fits me like a glove and has given me curves that I never knew I had.
He picked me up in a barouche and we arrived at the theater like royalty. (At least it felt that way in my imagination). He told me that I looked stunning. No one has ever called me that before. We both enjoyed “The Rivals” and laughed at all the ways that Mrs. Malaprop misused the English language with hilarious results. He helped me board his coach afterwards and we journeyed to the gardens at Vauxhall. I tried to remember some of the funny words Mrs. Malaprop had used incorrectly. I imitated her saying, “She’s as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile.” He laughed at my imitation and added another funny line from the comedy saying, “He is the very pineapple of politeness.” It sounds silly now; but you had to be there. I loved his sense of humor.
We took a lovely moonlit walk among the gardens. It started raining and we had to dash inside the coach that was waiting for us. My aunt’s beautiful dress was soaked. We sought shelter inside the coach and the driver gave us a fur lined blanket to put over ourselves. Ashley gently and seductively unbu
ttoned one of my gloves to kiss my hand and I was in raptures. If he had wanted to defile me right then, I am ashamed to say that I would have been his most willing victim. He brought my hand to his lips and said, “I realize that we haven’t known each other very long, but I feel a real connection with you that I haven’t felt with any other woman.”
“I feel the same way you do,” I earnestly responded.
“Would it be too forward and gauche of me to ask for your hand in marriage?”
My heart did summersaults upon hearing this question. I told him, “No. It wouldn’t be gauche at all. I would love to be your wife.”
He sighed with relief and gave me a small box to open. When I saw what he had given me, I was breathless. It was a beautiful diamond ring which he then placed on my left finger.
He took me in his arms and fervently kissed me. After a few moments, he pulled away and asked, “Will it bother you to leave the country of your birth?”
“Not if it meant being joyfully happy with you for the rest of my life.”
“Things are very different in America. You may not find the luxuries you are accustomed to here in London.”
“I’m not a native of London,” I protested. “I come from the country and my family was actually quite poor before my sisters married rich husbands.”
“There is something I need to make clear to you,” he continued.
“By all means,” I continued. “Just say it.”
“I live on a plantation and I own thirty slaves that help me run the estate.”
“I was going to ask you about that,” I admitted. “Are you kind to them?”
“As much as I can be. I don’t work with the ones in the fields. I have an overseer to do that.”
“I hope he doesn’t whip them,” I felt compelled to say.
The Forgotten Sister Page 2