Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice Sequel Bundle: 3 Reader Favorites

by Linda Berdoll

  I watched Bingley as we spoke of general matters, interested to see if he singled out any young lady for his attentions. Again, he did not. He spoke to every young lady there, he laughed and was gay, and yet there was something in his manner that was reserved, as though he held some small part of himself back.

  ‘Does your brother have a flirt in the north?’ I asked Caroline.

  ‘No. No one has taken his fancy.’

  ‘You do not think he still has feelings for Miss Bennet?’

  ‘None in the world,’ she answered decidedly.

  But I think she is wrong. I mean to watch him to make sure, but once I am convinced, I mean to speak to him and tell him that I was wrong about Jane being indifferent to him. I must mend the damage I have done.

  Monday 23rd June

  I presented Georgiana with a new parasol this morning, and I was pleased to see how much pleasure it gave her. The colour was particularly becoming to her complexion.

  As I thought this, I could not help my thoughts going to Elizabeth. Her complexion was always healthy. She liked the outdoors, and was always walking, which brightened her eyes and made her face glow.

  Where is she now? Is she at Longbourn? Does she think of me? Does she despise me, or has she forgiven me?

  Wednesday 25th June

  I am now convinced that Bingley is still in love with Jane Bennet. I have watched him for more than six weeks, and I know that the time is fast approaching when I must tell him what I have done. To take it upon myself to tell him whom he should and should not marry was an act of arrogance, and to employ the art of deceit to carry my way was impertinence of the worst kind.

  ‘You look pensive, Darcy,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam, coming up beside me. ‘Has Bingley done something to worry you?’

  ‘No. It is I who have done something to worry him.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I think I spoke to you once of a friend I had saved from a disastrous marriage. I am beginning to think I was wrong to interfere.’

  ‘It seemed to me as though you had done him a service.’

  ‘And so I thought, at the time, but he has lost his interest in young ladies since then.’

  ‘The young man was Bingley, was he not?’

  I admitted it.

  ‘He is young. He will find someone else.’

  ‘I am not so sure. At the time I thought I was acting through kindness, but I see it differently now. It was interference.’

  ‘Then you are in harmony with Miss Bennet!’

  ‘Miss Bennet?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She was of the opinion it was interference as well. Oh, never fear,’ he said, as he saw my expression. ‘I gave her no particulars, only that you had saved Bingley from a disastrous match. I did not mention the lady’s name, indeed I did not know it. You need not be afraid that she might have known the family.’

  I said nothing. Indeed, I was too horrified to speak. So Elizabeth had heard of my meddling, and she had heard of it in a congratulatory fashion, with my cousin, in all innocence, telling her how useful I had been.

  It is small wonder she had been so angry with me at the parsonage. I only wonder now that she was not even angrier. I begin to see clearly why she refused me. And to see that, through my own pride, arrogance and folly, I have lost the woman I love.

  Friday 4th July

  I am unsure how to act. If I tell Bingley that Miss Bennet is partial to him, then I may do more harm than good. It is now more than two months since I spoke to Elizabeth on the subject, and it is possible that in that time, Jane has found another young man to love. I have decided that I will not tell him of Miss Bennet’s affections, but I will encourage him to return to Netherfield after his visit to Pemberley. If she has any feelings for him, he will soon discover it.

  When Elizabeth berated me for her sister’s unhappiness I thought it a lesser charge than her berating me for Wickham’s misfortunes, but I begin to think it was not so. I now know something of what Jane suffered, having felt the pain of rejection myself. If I have caused her to feel the emptiness I have felt for the last two months then I am truly sorry.

  Monday 7th July

  ‘How quiet we are now that Mr Bingley and his sisters have gone to visit their cousin,’ said Mrs Annesley as we sat together after dinner this evening.

  ‘We will be seeing them again before long,’ said Georgiana, as she sat by the window with her needlework. ‘They are coming to Pemberley with us.’

  ‘I am looking forward to seeing Pemberley,’ said Mrs Annesley. ‘I understand it is a very fine estate.’

  By this gentle sentence she persuaded my sister to tell her about it, and I thought how lucky I had been to find her. She has helped Georgiana to grow in confidence, and between us we will steer my sister towards a safe and happy womanhood.

  Tuesday 8th July

  I returned to Pemberley today, as I wanted to give Mrs Reynolds news of my impending visit, and to let her know how many guests I will be bringing. I could have written, but our conversation last night filled me with a longing to see it again.

  As I turned in at the lodge and rode through the park I could not help thinking: Here I could have brought Elizabeth. I rode through the wood, following the trail upwards until I reached the top. I reined in my horse and let my eyes rest on Pemberley House, at the far side of the valley. My gaze ran over the house, its mellow stone glowing in the sunlight; on the stream in front of it; and on the wooded ridge behind.

  Of all this Elizabeth could have been the mistress. But she had refused my hand. She had not allowed any considerations of position or wealth to sway her, and I honoured her for it. I did not know another woman who would have acted in such a way.

  I felt again all the misery and pain of having lost her.

  I rode on, descending the hill and crossing the bridge before riding to the door. As I dismounted, and stood before the house, I realized how much I would have valued her as my wife; how the liveliness of her spirits would have softened my own, and her lack of improper pride tempered mine.

  I went in. I found the house well cared for, and Mrs Reynolds was pleased to know that I will be visiting with a party of friends in August.

  ‘It will be good to see Miss Georgiana again, sir.’

  ‘She is looking forward to being here. She misses Pemberley.’

  If Elizabeth had accepted my hand, Georgiana would be living here again, not on her own, but with her family. She and Elizabeth would have been sisters…but I must not torture myself.

  I went round the home farm with Johnson, and saw the repairs he had commissioned. He is an asset to the estate, and I am glad to have him.

  When I returned to the house, Mrs Reynolds had drawn up a plan of the rooms, allotting to Bingley and his sisters their usual chambers. They will be staying with me on my return. She had also drawn up a selection of menus. I gave them my approval, and spent the evening in discussing with her some changes I would like to see in the east wing, before retiring to bed.

  Friday 18th July

  I returned to town, and mean to finish my business before spending the rest of the summer at Pemberley.

  Saturday 19th July

  I was surprised to see Bingley today, when I was riding in the park.

  ‘I thought you were visiting your cousin,’I said to him.

  ‘I was, but I have come back a week early. You are right about me, you see, I have no constancy.’

  I was glad of the opening this offered me.

  ‘I thought, in one matter, perhaps you had,’ I ventured.

  ‘Oh?’

  He said no more, but I could see where his thoughts were tending.

  ‘Did I tell you I visited Rosings at Easter?’ I asked. ‘I went to stay with my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.’

  ‘Yes, I believe I heard something of it,’ said Bingley without interest. ‘I hope Lady Catherine is well?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. She was in good health and spirits. She had visitors stayi
ng with her, a party from Longbourn.’

  He changed colour at this.

  ‘Longbourn? I did not know that. What were they doing in Kent?’ he asked, as we turned into the park.

  ‘They were visiting the rectory. Perhaps you remember Mr Collins, a heavy young man who was a rector in my aunt’s parish?’

  ‘No, I cannot think I do.’

  ‘He was staying at Longbourn before Christmas. He attended the ball at Netherfield, with the Bennets.’

  ‘Ah, now I remember. There was a rumour he was to marry Elizabeth Bennet.’

  ‘It was nothing but a rumour.’Thank God, I thought. ‘He did find a wife, however, and married Charlotte Lucas.’

  ‘The charming daughter of Sir William?’ asked Bingley, turning towards me.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A good match,’ he said, pleased. ‘I know she wanted her own establishment. I am happy for her. Was she in good spirits when you saw her?’

  ‘Yes. She had reason to be so. Her family were paying her a visit. Her father and sister were staying with her. Sir William stayed only a week, but her sister Maria stayed with her longer.’ I paused. ‘She had another visitor, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’

  He started, but said only: ‘Yes, I believe they were friends.’After a moment he said: ‘Was she well?’

  ‘She was.’

  ‘I liked Miss Elizabeth Bennet very much. She was as lively a girl as one could ever wish to meet. And her parents, were they well?’

  ‘Yes, I believe so.’

  ‘And her…sisters?’ he asked, studiously ignoring my gaze.

  ‘They were well, although Miss Bennet I believe was not in spirits.’

  ‘No?’ he asked, torn between hope and concern.

  ‘No,’ I said firmly.

  ‘She missed her sister, perhaps. She was very fond of her, and would not want to be parted from her.’

  ‘She had been in low spirits before her sister left.’

  ‘She missed Caroline, then. They saw a great deal of each other when we were all at Netherfield, and were friends.’

  ‘Perhaps. But it is not usual for a young lady to fall into low spirits because her friend has gone.’

  ‘No.’

  He hesitated, then said: ‘What do you think, Darcy? Should I give up Netherfield?’

  ‘Is that what you wish to do?’

  ‘I am undecided. It is a fine house, and a fine country, and the company was good – though, perhaps, not what you are used to,’ he said with a trace of anxiety.

  ‘Perhaps not, but there were several people who made the neighbourhood very pleasant.’

  ‘Indeed. Sir William had been presented at St James’s.’

  ‘I was not thinking of Sir William.’

  Though I was meant to be helping my friend, I could not prevent an image of Elizabeth rising before my eyes.

  ‘I might perhaps go there for a few weeks towards the end of the summer. What do you say to that idea?’ he asked.

  ‘I think it an excellent one.’

  ‘Then I think I will go after my visit to Pemberley.’

  I said no more. I do not wish to give him too much hope, lest Jane should have put her hurt aside and become attached to one of the neighbouring young men. But if he returns to the neighbourhood, then a very little time will show them if they are meant to be together, and this time, I will not be so impertinent as to interfere.

  Sunday 3rd August

  Bingley and his sisters joined Georgiana and me soon after breakfast and we set out for Pemberley. To begin with, Caroline talked of her visit to her cousin, but then her conversation turned to flattery.

  ‘What a fine coach you have, Mr Darcy,’ she said, as it rattled through the streets. ‘Charles has nothing like it. I keep telling him he should buy something in this style.’

  ‘My dear Caroline, if I bought everything you wanted me to buy I would be bankrupt by the end of the year!’ said Bingley.

  ‘Nonsense. Every gentleman should have his coach, should he not, Mr Darcy?’ she asked.

  ‘It is certainly useful,’ I admitted.

  ‘Darcy! I relied on you to take my part! I was sure you would think it an extravagance.’

  ‘If you mean to travel a great deal, then it is cheaper than hiring a coach.’

  ‘There you are,’ said Caroline, directing a smile at me. ‘Mr Darcy agrees with me. How companionable it is when two people have but one mind. You should have squabs in just this colour, Charles,’ she said, looking at the seats.

  ‘I shall make sure they are in a completely different colour,’ he returned,‘otherwise I will not know which is my coach and which is Darcy’s.’

  ‘How comfortable it is,’ said Caroline. ‘Is it not, Georgiana?’ she asked, appealing to my sister.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Georgiana.

  ‘And how well sprung. Charles, you must make sure your coach uses just these springs.’

  ‘If I do, Darcy’s coach will be sadly uncomfortable without them.’

  ‘And you must have a writing desk built into the coach.’

  ‘I dislike writing letters when I am still, and I have no intention of doing it whilst being jolted over every rut and pothole.’

  ‘But your fellow travellers might like to write. What do you say, Georgiana? Would it not be useful?’

  ‘Yes,’ my sister ventured.

  ‘There you are, Charles. Georgiana thinks it would be useful, and not only for writing, I am sure. It would also be useful for sketching. How is your sketching progressing?’ she asked Georgiana.

  ‘Well, I thank you.’

  ‘My sister gave me a sketch of Hyde Park only last week,’ I said.

  ‘And was it prettily done?’ Caroline asked.

  ‘It was very well done indeed,’ I said with a warm smile.

  ‘I remember my own schooldays. How I loved to sketch! You must let me see the picture, Georgiana.’

  ‘I left it in London,’ my sister said.

  ‘No matter. I will see it the next time we meet.’

  We travelled in easy stages and stopped for the night at the Black Bull. It is a respectable hostelry. The food is good and the rooms comfortable. I have told my man to wake me early. I have some letters to write before we travel on.

  Tuesday 5th August

  I cannot believe it. I have seen Elizabeth. I scarce know what I am writing. It was so strange.

  We were returning to Pemberley, Bingley, his sisters, Mr Hurst, Georgiana and I, when we stopped for lunch at an inn. The day was hot and the ladies were tired. They did not wish to travel further, and indeed I had told my housekeeper we would not arrive until tomorrow. But I was restless. I decided to go ahead, meaning to see Johnson and put some of the estate business out of the way before my guests arrived.

  I rode on to Pemberley. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I enjoyed the ride. I was just leaving the stables and walking round to the front of the house when I stopped short. I wondered if I was hallucinating. The day was hot, and I wondered if I had caught the sun. For there in front of me was a figure I knew well. It was Elizabeth.

  She was walking across the lawn to the river, in the company of two people whom I did not know. At that moment she turned to look back. She saw me. I stood rooted to the spot. We were within twenty yards of each other. There was no question of avoiding her, even had I wished it. Our eyes met and I saw her blush. I felt my own countenance grow hot.

  At last I recovered myself. I advanced towards the party. She had instinctively turned away, but stopping on my approach, she received my compliments with great embarrassment. I felt for her, and would have made it easier for her if I could.

  As I spoke to her I could not help wondering what she was doing there. To be at Pemberley! It seemed so strange, and yet at the same time so right.

  ‘I hope you are well?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, flushing, and unable to meet my gaze.

  ‘And your family?’

  As soon as
I said it I saw her flush more deeply, and I felt an answering flush cross my face. I had no right to ask after her family, having abused them so roundly to her face, but she answered me civilly enough.

  ‘They are well, thank you.’

  ‘How long ago did you quit Longbourn?’

  ‘Almost a month.’

  ‘You have been travelling?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You are enjoying it, I hope?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I repeated myself thrice more, asking her if she had enjoyed herself, until I felt it was better if I remain silent, since I could think of nothing sensible to say. After a few moments I recollected myself and took my leave.

  To find Elizabeth, here, at Pemberley! And to find her willing to talk to me. She had been embarrassed, but she had not turned away. She had answered every question with more civility than I deserved.

  What was she thinking? I wondered. Was she pleased to have met me? Mortified? Indifferent? No, not that last. She had blushed when I approached. She had been angry, perhaps, but not indifferent.

  The thought gave me hope.

  I went into the house, but instead of making for the steward’s room I found myself going into the drawingroom.

  She had not been at ease, that much was clear, and I had done nothing to help her. I had been so overcome with surprise, and a range of other emotions I dare not put a name to, that I had been incoherent.

  A gentleman would have set her at ease. A gentleman would have made her feel at home. A gentleman would have asked to be introduced to her companions. How far below this mark I had fallen! I resolved to mend matters at once.

  Going out into the grounds, I enquired of one of the gardeners which way the visitors had gone, and set off after them.

  I saw them down by the river. I approached. Never had a walk seemed so long. Would she be pleased to see me? I hoped, at least, she would not be displeased.

  I came upon her. She began speaking at once, with something more of ease than previously.

  ‘Mr Darcy. You have a delightful estate here. The house is charming, and the grounds are very pleasant.’