The Pemberley Chronicles

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Will you forgive me, my dear sister, if I mention this with some little trepidation, but I fear Georgiana is in danger of falling in love with Dr Grantley. I have not spoken a word of my suspicions to anyone but you, so I beg you keep this to yourself alone. Do not ask me if it is requited, dear Jane, for Dr Grantley is of an age and a level of maturity, being a year older than Darcy, that enables a man to keep his feelings to himself. Georgiana is of such a tender age, being younger than Kitty, that he may not wish to encourage her in any way. If my husband knows anything of it, he has not indicated it to me, but I am sure he will have noticed that they are together for many hours each day. Let us leave it until we meet; there may be more substance to the matter by then, or perchance there may be no more of it, since Dr Grantley returns to his College at Oxford in the Spring. I must close now but will write again when we are returned from Staffordshire. Do give our love to Bingley, and, dear Jane, I beg you please look after yourself. You are always in my thoughts.

  Yours very affectionately, Lizzie.

  On returning from Staffordshire, Elizabeth found two letters waiting for her. The first, from her father, had been expected for some time, since Mr Bennet had accepted Darcy’s invitation to visit Pemberley in the New Year. Elizabeth was overjoyed to read that he was finally coming, having ensured that Mrs Bennet was safely off to Newcastle. He asked Elizabeth to tell her husband that the coach would arrive at Lambton on Saturday afternoon, remembering that Darcy had offered to send the carriage for him.

  While I regret that I have delayed my visit to Pemberley, I think, my dear, you will agree that it was done in a good cause, for by waiting until your mother was ready to leave for Newcastle, taking her maid Sarah with her, I have spared your sister Jane the responsibility of entertaining both your mother and Mary for several weeks. I would have felt guilty had I done so and would not have enjoyed my stay with you quite as much as I intend to. As it happens, Mary is gone to Netherfield Park; Hill and John will watch over Longbourn, while I avail myself of the delights of Derbyshire in general and Pemberley in particular. Please tell your husband I am looking forward very much to burying myself in his remarkable library, of which I have such excellent reports.

  Elizabeth hurried over to find her husband and give him the news. She found him in the sitting room, reading a letter from Mr Gardiner, thanking them for their hospitality over Christmas and urging them to consider a visit to London, preferably before they went on to Netherfield in Spring. When she handed him her father’s letter, Elizabeth was delighted to see the genuine pleasure with which he read it and turning to her, said, “There you are, my dear, I knew you would soon be smiling again. I know how much you’ve been missing your father—why you’re looking better already.” Elizabeth knew he was sincere, despite the teasing tone of his voice.

  “I shall ask Hobbs to arrange for the carriage to meet him, unless you and Kitty would like to go, too.” Elizabeth considered this but decided she would prefer to wait for her father at Pemberley, with Darcy beside her. She said so, and from his approving smile, she knew it was the right thing to do.

  Tea was served and as the others helped themselves, Elizabeth took hers upstairs hoping to read the second letter she had received, in the privacy of her sitting room. She had recognised the hand; it was Charlotte’s and posted at Hunsford. Even before she opened it, Elizabeth felt a sense of gleeful anticipation; Charlotte would surely have news from Rosings where Lady Catherine must have held court during the festive season, with the Bingley sisters and Mr Collins showing appropriate respect.

  On opening it, Elizabeth read it quickly through and then re-read it as she was wont to do when she wished to savour the pleasure of a letter from a favourite source. The first few paragraphs contained sundry pieces of information relating to household matters and then there was news from the domain of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

  Charlotte wrote:

  Dear Eliza,

  You probably will not be surprised to hear that your marriage to Mr Darcy has not found favour with his aunt. She seemed to think you had done it out of spite or some determination to flout her Ladyship’s wishes. It was a judgement with which Mrs Hurst and Miss Caroline Bingley seemed ready to agree with alacrity, though it must be said that Mr Hurst did not wish to become involved. He was of the opinion that Mr Darcy “had had his eye on Miss Eliza Bennet since the day of the Netherfield Ball,” and this rather threw them all into confusion. You will be pleased, I am sure, to hear that Mr Collins and I remained staunchly aloof from any vilification of your selves and when the opportunity arose, I remarked to Miss Bingley that I was quite certain both her brother Mr Bingley and his friend Mr Darcy were considered extremely fortunate to have married two of the most handsome ladies in the county.

  “Oh Charlotte, I can wager anything, she did not like that,” said Lizzie, chuckling to herself, visualising the scene at Rosings and enjoying the discomfiture of Miss Bingley as Charlotte described it.

  More than for herself, Elizabeth found it hard to be charitable to the Bingley sisters on account of their treatment of Jane last Summer. It remained a mystery to her that their brother could be such an amiable and sincere gentleman while growing up in the company of sisters whose meanness of understanding and total selfishness of character were hard to conceal. She could not restrain her laughter when she read of Lady Catherine’s response to the failure of her nephew James Fitzwilliam to present himself at Rosings for Christmas.

  Her Ladyship appeared most put out when a message arrived on Christmas Eve, from her nephew James, elder brother of Colonel Fitzwilliam, saying he was unavoidably delayed up North and could not get back to Kent for Christmas. Mr Collins did try to discover why Lady Catherine was so particular that he should be here, but no one seemed to know.

  Elizabeth, recalling Darcy’s tale of Lady Catherine’s plans for her nephew, laughed out loud. When Darcy came in search of her, Elizabeth had reached the last page of Charlotte’s letter:

  My main reason for writing, dear Eliza, is to tell you that I am going to be at Lucas Lodge from the beginning of March until my baby is born in May and probably for a month afterwards. My dear parents have asked me to stay, and Mr Collins agrees with me that Dr Jones would engender more confidence, having attended almost all members of our family, than the physician recommended by Lady Catherine. Again, I doubt that I have pleased her Ladyship with my decision, but I am convinced I must do as I see fit.

  Elizabeth gave a cry of joy, as if she was cheering Charlotte on in her defiance, and Darcy looked on in astonishment, until she acquainted him with the reason for her satisfaction. She passed the letter to him, having read the last paragraph, in which her friend expressed a wish that Lizzie should not fail to visit her when she came to Longbourn. Elizabeth had not been unaware of Mrs Collins’ condition, having heard of it at the time of her own wedding in October, but her happiness was intensified by Charlotte’s news that she would be at Lucas Lodge—probably without her odious husband, so that a visit would bring real pleasure. “It will be almost like old times,” she said, and Mr Darcy, who had always felt some regard for the pleasant, sensible, and long-suffering Charlotte, agreed. They laughed together at the news from Rosings, especially the remark from Mr Hurst about Darcy and Elizabeth and Charlotte’s description of Lady Catherine’s aggravation at the non-appearance of her nephew.

  “She cannot have learned of his engagement to Rosamund,” said Darcy, adding that he was glad not to be at Rosings to hear her reaction.

  Finding him in this very light-hearted mood, Elizabeth pressed her request for an early visit to her sister at Netherfield, with the possibility of seeing Charlotte at the same time. It wasn’t difficult to extract a promise that when her father returned home in four weeks’ time, they would all go, probably via London. In addition, he had other, more advanced plans. “I know how much it means to you, dearest, and I have already made arrangements for our stay in London, probably for four days. I have only been waiting on Mr Bennet’s arriva
l to discover whether he would like to join us or stay here with Dr Grantley and Kitty.

  “Once we know his preference, you can make whatever arrangements you wish with Mrs Gardiner for your entertainment during the day, when Mr Gardiner and I will be busy with matters of business. Your uncle has also obtained tickets for the Opera, and we must confirm our arrangements as soon as possible,” he said.

  Elizabeth was delighted. She threw her arms around Darcy and thanked him with an enthusiasm that both surprised and delighted him. As soon as matters were decided, she intended to write to Jane and Charlotte and give them the good news. As for Mrs Gardiner, she was owed a letter, and Elizabeth decided it was going to be written without delay.

  Outside, the weather was still wintry, but in her heart, it was already Spring. This feeling of lightness flowed through into her letter:

  My dearest Aunt,

  It gives me so much joy to write with good news, and so much of it. First, my father arrives on Saturday for four weeks, having ensured that my mother has safely left for Newcastle to be with Lydia. He apologises for his tardiness in coming to us but is certain that it was in a good cause, since it preserves dear Jane and Bingley from having Mama to stay for two weeks before her journey North. I have no doubt at all that Jane and Bingley are profoundly grateful, although they are both much too polite to say so.

  My second is that Charlotte Lucas has written to say she is going to Lucas Lodge for the next three months until her baby is born. The greatest good news, dear Aunt, is Mr Collins needs must stay behind at Hunsford, since the spiritual needs of his parishioners and the wishes, nay commands, of his patron Lady Catherine must come first. Which means, when Father returns to Longbourn next month, we are to go, too. I shall be able to see Charlotte without her husband’s constant attentions and interruptions. What bliss! Can you imagine?

  We are also to stay a week with Jane and Bingley, at Netherfield Park, to which I am looking forward very much. With Mama away, Mary is with Jane at Netherfield until Papa and Kitty return.

  Speaking of Kitty, she has started to practise her piano again and is getting quite good at it. She is happy to help us out with the Children’s Choir, which has become a fixture of late. Last Sunday, the Rector— Reverend Huw Jenkins—who is Welsh and with an excellent voice himself, thanked Kitty especially for the hard work she had put in with the choir. She looked very pleased with the special attention she received. We are all agreed that the change in Kitty is very good news indeed.

  Even better news, Mr Darcy has arranged for us to come to London for four or five days. The date is not as yet set, but he will send an express to our Uncle Gardiner as soon as it is settled.

  I do look forward to London in March, so close to Easter too. I believe we are to go to the Opera with you, and I shall have to order a new gown for the occasion. Not having been to the Opera in London, any advice from you on an appropriate style will be much appreciated. I think I should also purchase a new bonnet, for daytime, if we are to go driving in Hyde Park together. Would you advise me if your milliner has something suitable? I must stop for now as Mrs Reynolds wishes me to look at the rooms they have prepared for Father. I shall write more tonight.

  Mrs Reynolds escorted Elizabeth to what they used to call “the quiet wing” of the house, since it was situated away from the main living rooms and the nurseries. The Library, accommodated in a fine room from whose windows one could look out on almost every aspect of the grounds except the woods behind the house, was elegant and inspiring, with its remarkable collection housed in a series of magnificent cabinets. Reading tables and comfortable chairs all placed to take advantage of the natural light pouring in at the windows gave the room a most welcoming atmosphere, unlike some cold and musty rooms which passed for libraries in many houses she had visited. Elizabeth was sure her father would enjoy this place. Mrs Reynolds wished to point out a special reading desk and chair that Mr Darcy had had moved into an alcove beside one of the windows overlooking the park. “The Master said it would suit Mr Bennet, Ma’am,” Mrs Reynolds explained, and when Lizzie asked where it came from, she was astonished to hear her say, “From Mr Darcy’s father’s study.” Elizabeth’s pleasure showed plainly on her face as Mrs Reynolds led her down the corridor and across the main landing to a suite of rooms comprising a bedroom of medium size with its own dressing room attached and beyond a little sitting room, complete again with its own writing desk and book case. “The Master asked that these rooms be prepared for Mr Bennet, Ma’am, but he insisted I was to ask you if you approved and if there was anything more you wanted done.”

  There were tears in her eyes as Lizzie looked around the rooms, and so overwhelmed was she by the generosity and kindness of her husband, she failed to hide them from Mrs Reynolds. The housekeeper spoke gently and with understanding, “It is very like the Master, Ma’am, as you would know, he is kindness itself and nothing is too good or too much trouble for a friend. He said Mr Bennet was a learned and well-read gentleman, with a partiality for a quiet atmosphere, Ma’am. So this was the right room for him, being so close to the Library too.”

  Elizabeth agreed, “He is right, my father’s favourite room is the library.”

  Mrs Reynolds smiled. “Mr Darcy said as much, Ma’am. He is a good judge of people.”

  Recalling her father’s impression of Darcy, an impression largely fostered by her own uninformed and prejudiced views, Elizabeth’s tears fell, coursing down her cheeks, and only the sound of footsteps, unmistakably those of Mr Darcy, saved her from further embarrassment.

  Mrs Reynolds moved into the corridor as Darcy entered the room and seeing Elizabeth, said, “There you are, my dear, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “I’ve just been showing Mrs Darcy the rooms we have made ready for Mr Bennet, sir,” Mrs Reynolds said by way of explanation, and as Darcy turned to thank her, she slipped away, leaving them together.

  He asked at once, “What do you think, Lizzie? Do you approve?” He seemed eager to have her approval, as he had been when they first met in the grounds of Pemberley last summer. Then seeing her tears, he was immediately concerned, “Dearest, are you not pleased? Is anything amiss?”

  “Oh no no, not at all, it’s so kind of you to go to all this trouble,” she said, and as he took her hands, she wept and had to be comforted.

  “You like it then?” He was keen to please her.

  “Yes indeed, it’s perfect. My father will love the library and this beautiful room.”

  “That was my intention, and I hoped you would agree. I felt your father made his library a haven from the ups and downs of domestic life and I thought he would like a similar atmosphere here. Should he care for company, he needs only to walk downstairs, and he would be just outside the main living room.” By this time, Elizabeth had recovered her composure and smiled at his eagerness to convince her.

  “Dearest, he will love it, it’s exactly the way he likes it. My father, as you know, is not the most sociable of people; he enjoys good books and his own company. I must thank you most sincerely for your concern for his comfort.”

  That night, Elizabeth finished her letter to Mrs Gardiner. She wrote of the arrangements Mr Darcy had made for her father’s visit:

  Unlike my uncle, with whom Darcy struck up an easy friendship from their very first meeting, as you will remember, my father has been a difficult person for him to get acquainted with, and it was not made easier by the terrible business of Lydia and Wickham.

  Darcy, who is a very loving brother, takes his responsibilities as a guardian very seriously, and being extremely careful of his young sister could not understand the easygoing attitude of my parents to Lydia’s behaviour. Now, however, he is so transformed, so anxious to make up for any hurt he may have caused, that he is kind and generous to a fault. I must be the most fortunate creature in the world, dear Aunt, do you know of any other?

  J

  On Saturday morning, Mr Bennet arrived at Pemberley, the carriage having calle
d for him after breakfast at the inn at Lambton. Elizabeth waited for him with Darcy and Kitty at her side. She was conscious of the fact that it was the first time her father was visiting Pemberley and indeed the first time since their wedding that Mr Darcy and she were to welcome him together.

  In spite of the wintry cold, Pemberley looked splendid against the sky, and Lizzie hoped her father, whose good taste in art and writing had influenced her own appreciation, would notice the elegance of line and proportion that characterised the handsome house. She was not disappointed. No sooner had he alighted and embraced his daughters—Lizzie twice and Kitty with special mention on how well she looked—than he turned to Darcy, who greeted him most warmly and welcomed him to Pemberley. Mr Bennet responded with genuine enthusiasm. “This is indeed a fine place you have here, Mr Darcy; there are not too many places I have seen which manage to avoid looking bleak and cold in Winter; Pemberley certainly does that. The park with those stands of evergreen trees looks much less bleak than some of the bare grounds I saw on my way here.” Darcy was clearly pleased and, as he ushered him indoors, explained that the park and grounds at Pemberley had been lovingly designed by his late mother.