The Pemberley Chronicles

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  “I had not met Kitty in almost a year, when I called in at Longbourn with Maria before the wedding, and I do not mind telling you, dear Eliza, I was not prepared for the remarkable change in her. She is still young and somewhat excitable, to be sure, but there is no harm in that. What is so pleasing is the change in her temper and values.”

  Elizabeth agreed, “Mr Jenkins has certainly made a change in Kitty,” she began, but Charlotte interrupted gently, “While I accept that Mr Jenkins’ influence must be taken into account, I think it is you and Jane who must take most credit. Both of you have shown her, by example, how a young woman conducts herself in the best circles of society and may enjoy the good things of life in genteel moderation, without falling into excess and impropriety.” Elizabeth coloured at these compliments from her friend but was happy to accept them all the same.

  The following day, the Gardiners came to dinner, and later in the week Rosamund Fitzwilliam called and insisted that they all come over to Rushmore Farm, which was most interesting for Charlotte, who had never before visited a horse stud. The Gardiners would not take no for an answer either, wanting Charlotte to see for herself how well they had settled into life in Derbyshire, after some twenty years in London. It was on returning from Oakleigh, on a balmy afternoon, that they found sad news waiting for them.

  An express had come from Sir William Lucas. Lady Lucas had passed away early that morning, and Charlotte was summoned to Lucas Lodge. As the tears welled up in Charlotte’s eyes and Elizabeth embraced her dear friend, Darcy went immediately to find Mrs Reynolds and organise their journey to Hertfordshire. He determined that Charlotte and her children could not travel post, unaccompanied. They would have one of his carriages, with a trusted man from Pemberley to escort them. He assumed a message had already gone to Mr Collins in Kent and no doubt he would arrive for the funeral. Everything was done to enable them to leave in time to reach Coventry before dark.

  Charlotte was overwhelmed by Darcy’s concern and generosity. As she prepared to leave, barely an hour later, he assured her they were in good hands. He said the driver had instructions to do exactly as she asked but suggested they break journey at a hostelry he recommended for its safety and comfort. Charlotte, he said, need not worry at all about arrangements, his servant would attend to all of that. Having again expressed his condolences and asked for them to be conveyed to Sir William and Maria, he reassured her, “Have no fear, Mrs Collins, you will be delivered safe and sound to Lucas Lodge,” and added, “Bingley and I will call on you and your father in a day or two.” Charlotte thanked him from the bottom of her heart, whispering in Lizzie’s ear as they said farewell, “My dear Eliza, you have a most thoughtful and generous husband. Look after him.”

  Elizabeth had already asked her to forgive her own inability to travel to the funeral, but Charlotte, in her usual calm way, waved away her apologies, “I know you cannot travel at this time, Eliza, but at least, I know that your thoughts will be with us. My mother always thought very highly of you and Jane; she hoped you would marry good men. Having seen both Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy as I have these last few weeks, I know her wishes for you have been more than fulfilled.”

  Suddenly, Elizabeth felt sad, wondering at the way their lives had changed, since they had been girls together. Charlotte was her oldest friend. Not even the tragicomic circumstances of her marriage to Mr Collins could destroy their bonds of friendship.

  When they had gone, she turned to her husband and was surprised by the expression of deep concern upon his countenance. It was at these moments, she understood fully how fortunate she was. That she could ever have thought him cruel, callous, and indifferent to the feelings of others was incomprehensible to her now. She was ashamed to acknowledge that he had been as harshly misjudged by herself, as by others whose ignorance might be their excuse. She’d had none to blame but her prejudice. The gentleness in his treatment of Charlotte in her sorrow, his compassion combined with the swift practical assistance he sought to provide, had filled Elizabeth with pride and love. She was no longer surprised, just very proud of him. Putting an arm around her, he took her upstairs. “You must rest, dearest; there is nothing more to be done. I shall send a message to Ashford suggesting to Bingley that he and I attend the funeral. We may have to leave tomorrow.” Elizabeth agreed; she was suddenly very tired and longed for a bath and bed. Her mind kept returning to Charlotte, her nurse, and two little girls, on the road to Hertfordshire and her mother’s funeral.

  The following day, Elizabeth decided that she would take Cassandra and Jenny and travel to Ashford Park with Darcy, where she would stay with Jane until their husbands returned from the funeral of Lady Lucas. Jane and Elizabeth had much to talk about. They were rarely apart for a week, but one sister would feel she could not possibly spend another day without seeing the other. Sometimes they visited one another; at others, they met at Oakleigh, where their beloved aunt and uncle were always overjoyed to see them.

  On this occasion, the sadness of Charlotte’s loss was softened by Jane’s news of another child. “It does mean we shall not be having our usual party at Christmas, Lizzie, but Aunt Gardiner has claimed the right to have us all at Oakleigh, because it will be Caroline’s birthday on Boxing Day!” said Jane.

  “So it will. She has grown up these last two years—why Emily still seems a baby, but young Caroline is quite the young lady,” said Elizabeth. “Can you not remember the days when she would climb into your lap and refuse to leave until you had read her a story?” Jane did remember, very well.

  “She is certainly grown up and so beautiful too, Lizzie. I do believe it was one of the reasons for our aunt and uncle deciding to leave London for the country.”

  Elizabeth was puzzled. “How do you mean?”

  “Aunt Gardiner was over here with the girls while Charlotte was with us last week. We were talking of the tall tales coming out of London these days. Lizzie, there are all sorts of stories of wild parties and loose living men and women—all encouraged by the lack of discipline at the Court. Well, it seems there was a lot of truth in some of the tales, and Lizzie, Aunt Gardiner was especially concerned about the girls.”

  Elizabeth was speechless for a while then, recovering her composure, asked, “You cannot mean that they were in any danger?”

  “Not in any physical danger, but by example. You know how it was with Kitty and Lydia and all those Officers and silly women in Meryton?” Elizabeth nodded; she certainly remembered them! “Well, it is, according to my aunt, twice as bad in London. The Prince Regent and his swell friends are forever being accused of indulging in gambling, feasting, and drunken brawls and other equally wild practices, which set a very poor example for the ordinary folk. And, Lizzie, my aunt says there is now in fashion a new continental dance they call the waltz, in which the ladies are clasped close to their partners and whirled around the room. She believes all this is more than too much for her young Caroline and Emily to endure.”

  Elizabeth smiled; she had heard of the Viennese waltz and was not entirely convinced that it would bring about the end of British civilisation. Jane was much less sanguine, “I cannot help thinking, Lizzie, that ever since the old King was declared mad and locked away, things at the Court have got much worse. On our last visit to London, we were quite embarrassed by the large numbers of rather raffish young men who attend the assemblies and parties. They have neither taste nor distinction and seem only to drink, jest, and brawl around town.” Jane warmed to her subject as her sister listened, “Mr Bingley’s friends are equally concerned. The Middletons have retired to Hampshire, the Hursts have moved to Bath permanently, and Caroline Bingley has gone with them. Now, I cannot believe they would have left London unless they felt compelled by some unpleasant circumstance, Lizzie.”

  “What does Bingley think?” asked Elizabeth, beginning to be concerned by her sister’s narration.

  “Bingley thinks the problems are caused by the lack of any leadership from the Prince Regent or the Tory government,” sa
id Jane, “He says it is time they did more than arrest people and send the poor to prison.” Elizabeth was surprised at the extent of her sister’s information. It was the first time Jane, who usually listened and said very little during similar discussions, had appeared involved and genuinely concerned. She wondered briefly what had happened to bring this about and then recalled that while she had been busy having Cassandra, Jane had been spending a great deal of time with the Gardiners, whose contacts in London were numerous and varied. It was no wonder, then, that she had all the town gossip down pat. Her anxiety was very real; she seemed like one who had floated down a pleasant stream in a frail little boat thinking herself safe in a familiar environment, until quite without warning, she becomes aware of dangerous rapids ahead. It was so unlike Jane that Elizabeth determined to talk to her Aunt Gardiner about it, to satisfy herself that she was not being unduly alarmed by rumours.

  Later, however, when she had spoken with her aunt and uncle, who came over from Oakleigh Manor to dinner, Elizabeth herself began to be convinced of the reasons for their uneasiness and Jane’s fears. She learned that young women and girls—some not twelve years old—were being attracted into the city by promises of everything from humble jobs in domestic service to excitement, romance, and ultimate fame and fortune among the ranks of the Regency bucks in the Prince Regent’s entourage. “Believe me, Lizzie, foolish young women are coming to London, hoping to be picked up to become some toff ’s mistress!” said her aunt.

  “I cannot believe it, Aunt. How has this come about?” she was somewhat sceptical. Her aunt was severe in her condemnation.

  “You need only look at the dissolute and self-indulgent life of the Prince Regent and his courtiers to understand what is happening. Where there is no example for young people to follow, you will get chaos, and that is what we are seeing in London today.” Mr Gardiner was no less indignant, “Is it not a shocking thing, my dear Lizzie, that the nation that fought and twice defeated Bonaparte, seems to have lost direction and principle? The Regent and his courtiers are only interested in their own pleasure; they waste more money in a day than would feed a family for a month. Our government seems bewildered, unable to provide any solutions to our problems, and the men in business seek only greater and greater profit. Greed, dear Lizzie, is a terrible God!” A thought occurred to Elizabeth, and she asked her uncle if he had been in touch with Colonel Fitzwilliam and made him aware of what was happening.

  “Certainly, why Colonel Fitzwilliam, when he returns, will be a full partner in our business enterprise. I’ve kept him well-informed” said Mr Gardiner.

  “And do you know when he expects to be back in England?”

  “Indeed I do. He wrote last week to say he would be here for Christmas, for Caroline’s birthday, and of course, for Miss Darcy’s wedding in the New Year. The colonel agrees with me as does Mr Bingley, Britain needs some new leaders and new laws to reform our system.”

  Elizabeth nodded sagely and smiled. A vital piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place. Her uncle must have been the Colonel’s chief source of information. Mr Bennet had often said that his brother-in-law was a “good Whig” because being in trade, he could not possibly be a Tory! But not even her father had suggested that Mr Gardiner might be a Reformist, yet it now transpired that he was probably encouraging Fitzwilliam to join the Reform Group and stand for Parliament.

  For a young woman who had spent most of her life totally disinclined to pay any attention to matters political, Elizabeth found herself getting very interested indeed. She felt she would be looking forward to the return of Colonel Fitzwilliam with much greater interest than she was a week or two ago. She couldn’t wait to tell her husband about it.

  Mr Darcy and Bingley returned from Lady Lucas’ funeral with letters of thanks from Sir William, Charlotte, and the rest of the family and a special invitation to Jane and Elizabeth to stay at Lucas Lodge, when they came to Hertfordshire for Kitty’s wedding in July. Jane wondered whether her parents would be offended if they did not stay at Longbourn but changed her mind immediately on hearing that the Wickhams were expected to stay there.

  Returning the following day to Pemberley, Elizabeth could barely wait to get upstairs, before she began to relate the events of the previous day and the information she had gained from Mr Gardiner, especially his news about Fitzwilliam’s political leanings. She had expected Darcy to be very surprised, but to her great disappointment, he appeared to be very well-informed himself. “You forget, my darling Lizzie, Mr Gardiner is as much a partner of mine as he is of Bingley’s and yes, Fitzwilliam’s too. He has kept us all informed. He has extensive contacts in the city and in business circles; he also lived in the heart of London’s commercial district for twenty years—he knows it better than any of us. Do you recall the week Mr Gardiner and I spent on business in London and at Oakleigh, while you remained at Netherfield with Jane?” Elizabeth nodded, recalling that Darcy had returned almost certain that her uncle would purchase Oakleigh Manor. “Well, it was then he first told me why he was so keen to leave London. It was not just your aunt’s desire to return to the county she grew up in. They were both growing increasingly uncomfortable with the environment in the city—the poverty, the large numbers of people who were coming into the city aimlessly, the lack of discipline at Court and among the hordes of camp followers of the Prince Regent. Believe me, Elizabeth, he was seriously concerned for the safety of his family and the poor example it set for the children.”

  “And have you spoken of it since?” she asked.

  “Yes, we have spoken of it often. He knows that I have never enjoyed spending much time in London. All that frantic merrymaking and drinking is not to my taste. It hasn’t affected me because I don’t live there, but I agree with him, it’s destroying the heart of London society. I must admit, I had no idea that he was so committed to the Reformists. That is new, but I suppose it is the next step. Fitzwilliam is obviously keen, and if your uncle supports him, they may succeed in getting him elected. We have not discussed Fitzwilliam’s intentions, but I do know that Mr Gardiner knows of several others—especially men in trade and commerce, who appear to be interested in working for reform. So, my dearest Lizzie, we may well have an ‘Honourable Gentleman’ in the family soon.”

  He had lightened the mood with his remark, but it was quite obvious that Darcy was taking Mr Gardiner’s views quite seriously. He had a good deal of respect for both of them and valued their judgement. Elizabeth knew that Darcy’s own tastes had never run to the foppishness and snobbery that seemed to obsess the fashionable classes in the city. He had abjured the competitive class conflict that was now a national pastime among the rich and, as he said, “buried himself in Derbyshire” for most of the year, travelling up to London for business or special occasions and then staying only for short periods at Portman Square. After their marriage, it had been much the same. While she enjoyed the occasional excursion to the capital, there was little to attract and keep her there, especially now that the Gardiners had moved to the country. Of one thing Elizabeth was certain: Fitzwilliam’s return was going to be the start of a very interesting period for all of them.

  Kitty Bennet was married at Longbourn to the Reverend Huw Jenkins on a fine day in July, with a gentle breeze rendering the warm sun more temperate and dappled shadows softening the harsh mid-Summer’s light. While she had neither Jane’s elegance and classical beauty nor Elizabeth’s striking dark colouring and lively charm, Kitty made a very pretty bride. She had a youthful, delicate air and made a charming picture, with her two bridesmaids—Caroline and Emily Gardiner, who were well-practised at following their cousins up the aisle. There were many in church that day who remembered them from the wedding of Jane and Elizabeth, a few years ago, and some of them remarked on how grown up and beautiful young Miss Caroline Gardiner looked on this occasion. Sitting next to her sister, Jane whispered, “Oh Lizzie, isn’t Caroline beautiful?” While Emily still had a childlike quality, her sister at fourteen was very
much a young lady. Tall for her age, slim, and very graceful, Caroline was more remarked upon than the bride. Her parents were very proud indeed, not just of their daughter’s beauty, but of the poise and decorum that marked her behaviour at all times.

  Particularly striking was the contrast with the still silly and immature Lydia Wickham, who in spite of being a mother of two little boys, was unable to resist the temptation to flaunt herself and flirt with every man in sight, while her husband wandered around seemingly indifferent to the behaviour of his wife. It seemed that Wickham was quite bored with his wife and did not care who knew it. He appeared a good deal more at ease with other men’s wives, those who put up with his ingratiating smiles and compliments, at least.

  By the end of the wedding breakfast, Elizabeth was getting very tired of hearing her mother proclaim the virtues of “Lydia’s boys.” Lydia loved it, and Wickham merely basked in the attention as if he was the object of it all. It seemed three years of marriage had added nothing worthwhile to either of their characters. Jane and Elizabeth, who had the protection of their husbands, were relieved that he did not try to join them at the table or afterwards, when they were seeing the wedded pair off on their journey to Bristol.

  Mrs Gardiner, however, had noticed that he appeared to pay special attention to young Caroline and was quick to approach them and, in her daughter’s presence, pointedly asked after his wife and sons. Unabashed, Wickham immediately turned on his charm for Mrs Gardiner’s benefit—launching into a paean of praise for Lydia and the boys, who he assured her were the delight of their lives. Having seen their behaviour at Longbourn over the last twenty-four hours, where they were alternately indifferent or indulgent towards their children, Mrs Gardiner found his hypocrisy breathtaking but said nothing.