She was grateful that her aunt had not pressed her about her own prospects of having a child. They had talked about it once, when Lizzie, feeling a little low in spirit, had admitted to having some anxiety about it, and Mrs Gardiner had hastened to reassure her; after all they were not as yet married a year, she’d said.
Returning to Pemberley, they found the party happily engaged in a variety of pursuits. Dr Grantley, who was shortly returning to Oxford, having completed his research in the Library, was working with Kitty, Georgiana, and Mr Jenkins the Rector, on a new program for the Children’s Choir. Choosing the right music—not too ambitious, but with more variety than their first program—was an important matter, Kitty declared. Rosamund and James had visited and asked if the choir would sing at their wedding in the Autumn. Georgiana and Kitty felt this was a huge honour and could hardly speak lucidly as their words tumbled out to express their delight at the invitation. There was so much to be done, Georgiana asked if Kitty may be allowed to stay on at Pemberley to help. Their friendship had come on apace, much to Elizabeth’s delight. Mr Jenkins declared solemnly that they could not possibly manage without Kitty, and even Dr Grantley appeared to agree that she was so “good with the children” that she was invaluable to the project. Darcy and Elizabeth could not, in the face of such unanimity, see any objection, and it was left to Mr Bennet to give the final answer.
When he was applied to for permission, Mr Bennet seemed quite bemused. “Of course, Kitty may stay. Lizzie my dear, I cannot believe she is the same silly young person to whom I had to speak so severely, so often at home,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye, “your own influence and the excellent example of your young sister-in-law have completely altered her shallow, foolish ways. No, Lizzie, Kitty is transformed—let her stay, the longer the better—if you and Mr Darcy can bear it.” Of the last condition, there was no question, so it was settled. Kitty would stay on. The smiles on all their faces attested to the popularity of the decision.
That Sunday, after Evensong, Mr Jenkins stayed to dinner. He and Kitty seemed to have a great deal to discuss, not all of it appeared to do with the choir either. On retiring to their room that night, Elizabeth could not resist asking Darcy if he had noticed their growing closeness, and he immediately smiled and said, “Of course I have, dearest, I would have had to be blind not to notice. I think we can safely say that Mr Jenkins is deeply smitten and Kitty is not entirely unaffected either.” Even though she knew he was teasing her, Elizabeth was surprised at the accuracy of his observations. She wondered how he could have failed to notice a similar situation between his sister and his friend, Dr Grantley. Indeed, he’d said nothing at all on the matter, and Lizzie did not feel she wanted to interfere.
On the subject of Kitty, however, he was even more generous in his praise than her father had been, frankly admitting that he had been too harsh in his original criticism of her, for she was then too young and her character too immature to be so judged. Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised to hear him say, “Kitty is developing into a very pleasing young person; Georgiana is very fond of her, and I am sure with a little guidance and a mature influence in her life, she will surprise us all.” So astonished was Elizabeth at this statement that she failed to seize the moment and ask if he thought Mr Jenkins would be a sufficiently mature influence, for by then he had turned and put his arms around her as if to indicate that they had talked enough of others and he was of a mind to concentrate on themselves.
J
Two days later, Dr Grantley left to return to Oxford, having said his goodbyes and thanked everyone individually, wishing them well and promising to return.
In vain did Lizzie look for any sign that he and Georgiana had reached an understanding; she found none. Having spent so much time together, perhaps, she thought, they had come to the realisation that they were not suited. After all, he was older than Darcy, and Georgiana had an almost fatherly regard for her brother. Neither was there any sign of sorrow at their parting, as one might have expected; no trace of a special friendship except when she smiled so sweetly for him as he turned and waved before entering the carriage that was to take him to meet the coach at Lambton. Elizabeth found it difficult to hide her disappointment. Darcy had not said a word; nor had Georgiana.
Writing to her Aunt Gardiner, Elizabeth expressed her bewilderment:
It is difficult to believe that after all these weeks, during which they have spent so much time together, there has not been some understanding reached between them. At first, I had thought her too young to appreciate his worth, but the more I saw them together, the more interests they seemed to share, and the more they appeared to suit one another. I am indeed disappointed, my dear Aunt, that Darcy has not spoken of it at all, and yet I am reluctant to mention it myself.
Perhaps, I should really mind my own business and stop worrying, but as you know, Georgiana has had one unfortunate disappointment when she was but fifteen, and I would have been very happy to see her settled with someone worthy of her, as Dr Grantley undoubtedly is. However, there is nothing for it, now he is gone back to Oxford, and we are not likely to see him for several months.
For myself, I shall concentrate on the journey to Netherfield and Longbourn and hope all goes well with dear Jane and Charlotte too. I had forgotten that Lydia will be having her baby very soon; we must pray for a safe birth in her case as well. Concerning Kitty, I hope to have some news soon. We are due to leave for Longbourn with my father, and it is reasonable to suppose that Mr Jenkins may want to declare himself prior to Papa’s departure.
Two weeks later, on the afternoon before they were to leave for Longbourn with Mr Bennet, Kitty approached Elizabeth in her sitting room. She was remarkably calm for Kitty, though a little flushed, and her hands were held tightly together. Elizabeth knew at once that some moment of truth was about to be revealed. She guessed that Mr Jenkins may have proposed. She was right. He had indeed, that morning, as they walked back from church, and Kitty had accepted him. Elizabeth was pleased for Kitty but astonished at the insouciance with which she had gone through it. She held out her hands, but Kitty, instead of grasping them, wrung her own and said, “But Lizzie, do you think Papa will consent? He has been so angry with me ever since Lydia and Wickham . . .” Her voice trailed away, and Elizabeth put her arms around her.
“Kitty, of course he will, if Mr Jenkins asks him, and you are both quite sure it is what you really want. Why should he not?”
“Oh. I don’t know, I’ve told Huw—Mr Jenkins everything, even Lydia’s foolish behaviour, and he said it did not matter, he loves me, Lizzie!” Elizabeth felt genuine concern for her young sister, realising how little time their parents had spent with their children, preparing them for the vicissitudes of life and love! Their mother, apart from her obsession with marrying them off to eligible, preferably rich, men, had done little to advise them of the pitfalls along the road to matrimony. Their father, concentrating solely on keeping them fairly wellprovided for in a material sense, had shown little interest in his daughters.
Jane and Elizabeth had been fortunate enough to develop an intimate and rewarding relationship with their aunt, Mrs Gardiner, but the others had no one of equal sensibility or maturity to turn to and were largely left to their own devices. Realising that it was necessary to reassure Kitty quickly, Elizabeth spoke soothingly and vaguely of their father’s being no longer angry but quite well-disposed towards her. Kitty then asked if it was all right for Mr Jenkins to approach Mr Bennet, while he was at Pemberley. Unsure of the etiquette, they had been reluctant to do anything that might offend anyone at all. Elizabeth was certain Mr Darcy would not mind, but wanted to be sure. She urged Kitty not to worry, dried her tears, and left to find her husband.
Meanwhile, Darcy, who was beginning to wonder why his wife was so late dressing for dinner, was surprised to see her but not at all surprised by her news. In fact, he informed Elizabeth that Mr Jenkins had already confided in him and been assured of his blessing and support, should
he and Kitty succeed in obtaining Mr Bennet’s consent. “What did you say?” she asked, pleasantly surprised at this new turn of events.
“I had to be certain that they were quite firm in their decision; I was assured they were, and I agreed that if they could wait until after Christmas to be married, I would have the Rectory renovated for them and would increase the Rector’s stipend, by an agreed amount each year, so he could more comfortably support his wife.” Elizabeth’s delight was indescribable, and she could not wait to tell Kitty the news. Kitty was astonished, “Mr Darcy said that?” and when Elizabeth nodded, “Oh Lizzie, he is a wonderful man; Mr Jenkins thinks so. I’ve always been a little afraid of him, but oh dear, I do think the same now.”
With Lizzie’s having reassured Kitty that it was quite proper for Mr Jenkins to approach her father after dinner when he retired to the library, the sisters embraced and went downstairs. Kitty went directly to her brother-inlaw and thanked him. He smiled and wished her every happiness. Darcy was painfully aware that he had misjudged Kitty, whose fault had been her youth. A lack of direction from her parents and the wrong example from her sister Lydia had placed her temporarily in jeopardy. Observing her over the last few months, it had become clear to him that Kitty, removed from the influence of Lydia, was a totally different young woman—gentler, quieter, and more thoughtful. He was pleased to acknowledge this to himself and his wife, as he had done the night before.
Shortly afterwards, Mr Jenkins approached Elizabeth and apologised for not having sought her approval first. Elizabeth assured him that she did not feel in the least offended, since Kitty was eighteen and well able to make up her own mind. However, she added that she was pleased with her sister’s decision and wished them happiness. Mr Jenkins was clearly pleased with this reply. He then spent the rest of the evening deep in conversation with Kitty.
After dinner, Mr Bennet retired to the library, forewarned by Elizabeth to expect Mr Jenkins. “If it’s about Kitty, my dear, I have to say I’m delighted. He seems a thoroughly respectable and sensible young man; so long as he knows that Kitty has no fortune of her own.” Elizabeth remarked that she didn’t think he had any illusions on that score and enlightened her father about Mr Darcy’s part in the matter. He was thoughtful for a moment, then breaking into a smile said, “Good God, Lizzie, what will your mother say when she finds out I’ve given Kitty away, while she was in Newcastle?”
Mr Jenkins went into the library and came out very soon after with a message for Kitty; her father wanted to see them both. Kitty was still apprehensive, but Mr Bennet, seeing her tears, told her she was a good girl and deserved a good husband. He added he was confident that Mr Jenkins would look after her better than her father had done these eighteen years. Before Kitty could protest, he waved them away. “Remember, my dear, that your sisters Jane and Lizzie are your dearest friends and your best examples. If you must thank anyone for your present happiness, you should thank them.”
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Mr Bennet, Mr Darcy, and Elizabeth left for Longbourn the following morning. They had left a day earlier than expected, so they might look at the property in Leicestershire and call in at the Gardiners,’ in London.
There were a few tears, but no real sorrow at this farewell. Kitty and Georgiana seemed already like sisters—being of an age when young women are fond of confiding in each other—they looked forward to spending plenty of time together. Elizabeth had already informed Mrs Reynolds of Kitty’s engagement to Mr Jenkins. She was not surprised to learn that the staff at Pemberley had anticipated it for some time. Mrs Reynolds promised to take good care of both young ladies. Mrs Annesley, who had been away visiting friends, had returned, so they left the girls in excellent hands.
The stability and certainty of Pemberley and all it stood for had given Elizabeth the kind of confidence she appreciated; just as marriage to Darcy had given her the emotional fulfilment she had yearned for all her life. When, as a young woman, she had contemplated matrimony, she had often doubted if her dream of a passionate relationship could be realised. It had made her wary, even distrustful of suitors. Yet, in the warmth and generosity of Darcy’s love, Elizabeth had found complete contentment.
Writing later to her Aunt Gardiner, Elizabeth recalled the moment as a point in her life with Darcy, when every feeling came together:
It is not that I ever doubted the correctness of my decision, but that I had gone through so many turbulent emotions in my relationship with him in the course of one year, that I was unable at first to sort out my true feelings. But, today, as we drove away from Pemberley, I knew the strength and goodness of my husband and the love we shared was at the very centre of all those feelings and it would travel with us, no matter where we went, or what fate befell us. I know you will understand, dear Aunt, because you have enjoyed the blessing of a good marriage. I pray that what I feel now is the foundation of a similar state for Darcy and myself.
The letter was posted in London, surprising her aunt when it arrived a day after they had been at Gracechurch Street themselves, but on reading it, Mrs Gardiner understood exactly why it had been written.
CHAPTER SIX
Family matters
E
LIZABETH WAS EXCITED BY the prospect of seeing the property in Leicestershire, if only because it was close enough to Pemberley to make for regular visiting. Both Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were well
aware of the close and affectionate bond that existed between their wives. That the current distance between them distressed both Jane and her sister was wellappreciated. Jane’s husband had promised at an early date to seek a resolution to this situation, by moving from Netherfield Park, when the lease expired, to a house he intended to purchase for their family home. That he had requested Darcy’s help in finding a suitable place was an indication of the value he placed on his friend’s taste and judgement as well as his determination to acquire the best property his money could buy.
Elizabeth was unfamiliar with Leicestershire and depended upon Darcy to draw her attention to places of interest. A county rich in historic places— Roman antiquities, Norman churches, ruins of medieval castles and abbeys, and the site of the battle of Bosworth Field—all lay within a short distance of each other. Farmers working the fields might well turn up artefacts from any of these periods of history. Leicestershire was closer to the hub of English history than either Hertfordshire—where Elizabeth had lived most of her life, or Derbyshire—where she expected she would spend the rest of it. Mr Bennet asked about Oakham Castle, which was a site he remembered visiting many years ago, and Elizabeth was surprised at the amount of information Darcy was able to provide about this example of 12th century Norman architecture.
As they crossed the river and the ancient Roman Road that ran North into Nottinghamshire, the rocky outcrops or “scarps” jutted out from the softer pastures that supported good herds of cattle and sheep. The landscape was very different from anything Elizabeth had known, being at once harsher and more interesting than the gentle fields and woodlands of the South, but in her opinion, less majestic than the celebrated beauty of the Peak, Matlock, and Dovedale, which she had enjoyed on her tour of Derbyshire last Summer.
Passing through the village of Ashfordby, the road to Melton-Mowbray branched away to the North, and they gradually climbed out on to a long ridge which afforded an excellent view of the entire valley to the Southeast as well as the rising scarps and sandstone caps to the North.
Situated on gently rising land, surrounded by attractive woods and an ample park of some two hundred acres, which included a farm and an orchard, was Ashford House. Though it had none of the breathtaking impact of Pemberley, Elizabeth was immediately attracted to the house and its environs. A large place, initially of Jacobean design, complete with arched windows and steeply pitched roofs—Ashford House, bathed as it was in Summer sunlight, with a fine collection of trees throwing dappled shadows on the lawn, was the very picture of an English country house. The slopes behind it were wellwooded, and
the rising steeple of an old Norman church emerged in the middle distance, against a clear blue sky. Elizabeth was charmed.
Darcy dampened her enthusiasm somewhat by suggesting that while it might look very good on the outside, where nature had played its part well, the previous tenants may not have been as kind to the interior. But, in this he was only proved to have been cautious, as usual, because the manservant who admitted them informed them that the master had instructed that everything was to be in readiness for Mr Darcy’s visit, and so it was; the interior was impeccable.
From the warm and welcoming hall to the gracious library, sitting and drawing rooms, and excellent dining room overlooking a rose garden, the house spoke of care and comfort. Everything she saw, the handsome fireplaces, fine hangings and furniture, and several elegant bedrooms, convinced Elizabeth of the rightness of Darcy’s judgement. She could see Jane here. She turned to Darcy and smiled when he asked, “What do you think, my dear, would it suit?”
She replied, without hesitation, “Perfectly well, I shall have no trouble recommending this place to Jane; it’s beautiful.”
Darcy permitted himself a satisfied smile, as Mr Bennet joined in to praise his judgement. “There can be no doubt, if as you say, Bingley wishes to purchase a place, this property would be an excellent choice,” he said.
They spent an hour or so looking out of windows, admiring the aspect— North towards the wooded ridge, or sloping away to the meadows, and a fast tumbling stream to the East. A useful little dairy and a hothouse for nurturing fruit and green vegetables in the cold seasons both added to the desirability of the property. Finally, Lizzie had to be dragged away from the spacious kitchen and pantry that looked out on a perfect kitchen garden, so they could make good time on their journey to London.
The Pemberley Chronicles Page 9