From Longbourn to Pemberley - Winter 1810-1811

by M-C Ranger

  M-C Ranger

  From Longbourn

  to Pemberley

  Winter 1810-1811

  Volume 2

  Translated from French (Quebec)

  by Karen Caruana

  From Longbourn to Pemberley

  Volume 1 Autumn 1810

  Volume 2 Winter 1810-1811

  Volume 3 Spring 1811

  Volume 4 Summer 1811

  Volume 5 Autumn 1811

  This is a work of fiction based on the novels by English novelist Jane Austen.

  Most of the characters, several events and a certain number of phrases in this story are from the works of Jane Austen. Some characters, as well as all other plot twists are products of the author’s imagination. Any similarities with real persons or events are therefore unintended.

  Watercolour on the cover: copyright © 2015 JIGER

  From Longbourn to Pemberley: copyright © 2018 M-C Ranger

  Translation copyright © 2019 Karen Caruana

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Foreword

  Miss Jane Austen would most certainly still be surprised to follow Elizabeth Bennet, Fanny Price, Anne Elliot, Elinor Dashwood… in this second season, on the various paths connecting Longbourn to Pemberley.

  The winter of 1810-1811 has just begun and the celebrated ball at Netherfield Park took place a few days ago. Obviously, events have proceeded very quickly, but not necessarily to the liking of Mrs. Bennet, Caroline Bingley, or even Elizabeth Bennet. Our attention might also be drawn to the difficult circumstances experienced by other characters: who cannot help but sympathise with gentle Fanny Price or have a benevolent interest in discreet Anne Elliot? Who? We can wonder… And well, why not Fanny Dashwood or Augusta Hawkins?

  But what about the hopefuls who are the subject of all the marital chatter in this account? Let it be understood that it is exactly for this reason that we need to closely contemplate this second season that takes us from Hertfordshire to London …. but not yet to Pemberley.

  “… for everybody must now “move in a circle” to the prevalence of which rotary motion is perhaps to be attributed to the giddiness and the false steps of many...”

  (Jane Austen, Sanditon)

  Winter 1810-1811

  Chapter I

  In which we ascertain that the art of letter writing is without parallel with regards to not clearly articulating the situation whilst wishing to be clearly understood

  It was when Charles Bingley, with regret, had to return to London for certain matters that those who took his interests to heart began to conspire. All three were seated in the small parlour in Netherfield Park; Mr. Darcy was reading, and the two sisters were rather bored.

  ‘Mr. Darcy, do you not miss your dear Georgiana somewhat? While the Hertfordshire countryside might be very entertaining,’ Caroline Bingley said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, ‘I would take great pleasure in your sister’s company.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I would like to be by her side, and I will be, soon; I wrote her yesterday to inform her of my immediate return,’ he replied, without lifting his eyes from The History of England.

  ‘Particularly since, during our last visit at the end of August, she appeared to me to be rather … melancholic. I shared my observations with Louisa.’

  Darcy quickly lifted his gaze to look at her.

  ‘What is it that you wish to say, Miss Bingley?’ he asked, rather dryly.

  Could it be that she had heard about the unfortunate Ramsgate incident? No, this was impossible. Nobody, except for Richard Fitzwilliam, his cousin and Georgiana’s co-tutor, was aware of this. As for his sister, aggrieved as she was, she would never have confided in Miss Bingley. The latter, noticing the effect her words had on him, remained quiet.

  ‘Caroline had simply called my attention to a certain sadness in your sister’s gaze, a certain lack of spirit. At this age, young women are very sentimental, and even the slightest thing can affect them,’ Louise Hurst concluded, sympathetically. ‘I hope it was only temporary.’

  Relieved at this thought, Darcy’s gaze and tone softened.

  ‘You are correct, Mrs. Hurst, it is possible that my sister was hoping for more company; that is why I am planning to return to London in five or six days at the latest.’

  This comment allowed Caroline Bingley to subtly proceed towards her designs: those of distancing her brother from Miss Bennet and leaving the area. She had to do so with finesse.

  ‘Five or six days… Do you remember, Mr. Darcy, the last time we dined at your estate, that Charles was the only one able to cheer up Georgiana?’

  ‘It’s true,’ confirmed Louisa Hurst, partaking in her sister’s game. ‘Charles is so pleasant, and nobody can make people happy the way he does!’

  ‘If only he were here, we could tell him of this and I’m certain that it would be his pleasure to distract Georgiana,’ added Caroline Bingley. ‘After all, London is not that distant…’

  Darcy looked at each of the sisters and then smiled, knowingly. How could he not have understood earlier?!

  ‘Of course, it is not easy to leave a region as charming as this, where the people are so endearing,’ added Louisa Hurst, ‘but the happiness of your sister, Mr. Darcy, is more important than considerations such as this. Are you not of the same opinion, Caroline?’

  ‘Absolutely. I even believe that it is our duty to return to see Charles and share our concerns with him. He can only approve of our decision to reunite with him when he learns that this could make Miss Darcy happy. After all, Hertfordshire can wait a while.’

  ‘There is so little happening here that, in my opinion, we will miss nothing of importance if we are away for a month or two.’

  ‘You are right, Louisa. Unless, Mr. Darcy, there is some provincial attraction anchoring you to this part of the country… if that is the case, we will, naturally, remain here.’

  Fitzwilliam Darcy, who did not interfere with this theatrical exchange of which he was the primary concern, no longer had the option of replying. However, he did not disclose that he had perfectly understood the hints made by Caroline Bingley. On the contrary, because he had already made his decision, he turned the focus to Jane Bennet, much to the surprise of the two sisters.

  ‘Miss Bennet is a charming young woman, but, during the ball, I had the opportunity to observe her at leisure, and I did not notice in her the same eagerness as that exhibited by your brother. But perhaps I am erroneous in my analysis of her sentiments, what do you think?’

  ‘I believe that you are right. Charles can be a romantic at times. He believes himself to be head over heels in love, whereas the object of his affections, while extremely pleasant, is only obeying the contrivances of an unscrupulous mother and willing to do anything to achieve her objectives.’

  ‘Unscrupulous and willing to do anything to achieve her objectives,’ that is exactly what the Pemberley heir was thinking while looking intently at Miss Bingley.

  ‘Jane is so meek,’ Louisa was inclined to add, to attenuate her sister’s biting comments, ‘and Mrs. Bennet is able to manipulate her at her will, and poor Charles is completely blinded.’

  ‘Furthermore,’ added Caroline Bingley, relieved that she was no longer subject to her interlocutor’s piercing gaze, ‘your idea of going to see dear Georgiana suits us wholeheartedly, Mr. Darcy.’

  Thus it was decided, and all that remained was for Miss Darcy and Charles Bingley to sincerely thank this triumvirate for the honesty, frankness and transparency of its attentions. Naturally, Miss Bingley took it upon herself to inform the primary party concer
ned. Here is what the perfumed letter in Caroline Bingley’s elegant handwriting disclosed to the hapless Jane Bennet:

  … I do not pretend to regret anything I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my dearest friend; but we will hope, at some future period, to enjoy many returns of the delightful intercourse we have known, and in the meanwhile may lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most unreserved correspondence...

  Mr. Darcy would probably have approved of these lines without too much reservation. Would he have endorsed those to follow? We shall never know, for he was unaware of the contents of the letter, as he never saw it. Let us listen to the eldest of the Bennet sisters read it aloud, and we will understand why Caroline Bingley remained extremely discrete as to the contents of the letter and why the hopes of Jane were shattered because its author was so talented in the art of letter writing.

  … I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something more interesting, from the hope we dare to entertain of her being hereafter our sister…

  And further on:

  …My brother admires her greatly already…

  And, finally:

  …and a sister’s partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman’s heart…

  No matter how hard Elizabeth tried to convince her sister that Charles Bingley loved her, Jane could not believe that Miss Bingley, or anyone else, could be so manipulative and lie to her thus.

  ‘No, Lizzy, to believe that he loves me, I have to assume that everyone conducts themselves unkindly and this thought makes me disconsolate. On the contrary, I am not the least bit ashamed to acknowledge that I was incorrect and that I should have known that a young man such as Charles Bingley would choose a wife from a circle more elevated than the one in which he has been moving these past weeks.’

  *****

  It should come as no great surprise to learn that Jane Bennet was not the only one to reach this conclusion; the same could be said of Fitzwilliam Darcy. The master of Pemberley repeated to himself over and over that he could only select a wife from a social circle that was worthy of his rank, something that clearly did not apply to the places they had frequented for the last while. And why was he repeating this to himself between two sips of brandy? Because, ever since he had returned to London, his thoughts persisted in remaining in Hertfordshire, recalling the effect of beautiful eyes in the countenance of a pretty woman. He, so accustomed to eluding the machinations of ambitious mothers, to weaving his way between the charming traps set by shrewd young women, had not seen it coming! He had found her merely tolerable, no less; she had boldly scrutinized him, had refused to dance with him – and this was the first time that a young woman had refused anything from him – then had enjoyed provoking him, laughing somewhat at his reactions. She could not have known, when she mocked him in front of Frank Churchill, that he had found her captivating, vexatious, admittedly! But captivating. Her spirited retorts and the fact that she did not at all concur with everything that he said – like all the Caroline Bingleys of the world – had impressed him. After he had admitted this to himself, he observed her whenever the opportunity arose: at the pianoforte, charming her audience; with the youngest, applauding their endeavours; in her circle of friends, listening and discussing in the most pleasing manner. And despite Caroline Bingley’s biting remarks, ever since he had eluded her and had disclosed his thoughts to her, nothing could change his sentiments, not even the scheming to distance his friend from Netherfield Park. In fact, the more he thought of Charles Bingley, the more this troubled him. But this was a different affair, or at least this is what he attempted to convince himself of, seated in his library, with a glass of brandy and the pamphlet by Thomas Paine, which he would have liked to have been able to concentrate on, as Agrarian Justice was a subject that touched him personally – as did Elizabeth Bennet.

  *****

  Longbourn, the 10th of December, 1810

  My dear Cousin,

  You can be certain that we were most touched by your heartfelt letter of thanks. The fact that your patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was satisfied with your choice of fiancée filled me with joy; nothing is worth more than the counsel of a shrewd person; naturally, that is what I always say to Mrs. Bennet when she seeks my advice. In fact, I received your request to stay with us in the days prior to your marriage and I ask myself if it would not first be desirable to obtain the consent of Her Ladyship, so as not to incur her disapproval. After all, we have, living under our roof, five young women who could, despite themselves, disrupt the tranquillity of a man of the cloth ready to take a woman for his wife. If I can be of counsel, my Cousin, may I suggest that, rather than risking the discontent of your patroness, and, if ever your visit to Longbourn should provoke it, do not hesitate to change your plans…

  ‘Mr. Bennet! Mr. Bennet!’ his wife cried, rushing into the room after knocking, without first waiting to be asked to enter, she was so distraught. ‘Is what our daughters informed me of true?’

  ‘Your daughters learn of so many things, my dear, that I am incapable of separating fact from fiction. It all depends on who the news is from,’ answered her husband, smiling slightly.

  But Fanny Bennet had not the least desire to laugh. In any case, she did not grasp her husband’s peculiar sense of humour. By all accounts, it was better thus; this is what any sensible person having the privilege of knowing the residents of Longbourn would have thought. She slumped more than sat in the first available chair and repeated her question. Seeing her so discountenanced, Mr. Bennet concluded that it was pertaining to the request from his cousin, which, the day before, had been the subject of discussion between his two eldest daughters.

  ‘Indeed, dear Mr. Collins would like to stay here for the duration of the four or five days prior to his marriage.’

  ‘Oh! Mr. Bennet, I do not wish to accommodate this odious person! No more than I wish to see the eldest of the Lucas children! I no longer wish to hear about this horrid entail; I sense that my nerves can stand it no more!’

  ‘Calm yourself, my dear, creating a commotion will achieve nothing. If it brings you peace of mind, I am currently writing a reply and I dare hope that certain arguments in my missive may cause him to take a different approach,’ her husband said, reassuringly.

  Then, having walked around his desk, he courteously asked his wife to leave the library so that he could finish his letter in peace.

  ‘The thought that Charlotte Lucas will one day be the mistress of this house and that I will have to leave to cede my position to her is something I find intolerable,’ she uttered plaintively, while crossing the threshold.

  ‘My dear, dismiss these sombre thoughts … and let us rather flatter ourselves with the hope that I shall be the one to follow you.’

  This was uttered impassively by Mr. Bennet and, benefitting from the bewilderment of his tender half, he gently closed the door behind her. Mrs. Hill had barely enough time to hasten to her mistress when Mrs. Bennet collapsed into an armchair which was most conveniently located there, while issuing a long wail. This was normally the sign for a finely balanced state of discomposure, this scene having been repeated numerous times over the course of some twenty years.

  Rest assured that Mrs. Bennet did not have to subject herself to the presence of Mr. Collins. He was invited to stay at Lucas Lodge, where he treated his new family to all the agony of his conceit and all the obsequiousness of which he was capable – and that was no small matter. However, in hindsight, he did leave something at Longbourn; and that which he left, he gave to Mary Bennet. It is important to remember that she was more than inclined to listen to him and to ask him questions. Alas, while she had attracted his attention several times, it was never for the much-anticipated reason. When he noticed that she so obviously manifested an interest in his remarks, he puffed up with pride and looked for
a way in which to thank her for her admiration, while remaining irreproachable in his behaviour as a recently engaged reverend. He presented her with a small journal and a long discourse. Far from boring her, he managed, unwittingly, to provide her with some solace to soothe the deception she was undoubtedly feeling. This is how Mary resolved the burden of her sentiments and the future of her actions, in the first lines she wrote in her little journal.

  Longbourn, the 30th of November 1810

  Dear diary,

  Firstly, I would like to remember, for my entire life, how I started that which, I hope, shall become a daily habit, much like my piano practice.

  I do not wish to elaborate on certain circumstances that occurred here at Longbourn since the first visit by our cousin Mr. Collins. A young woman of almost nineteen years of age must be capable of accepting that God has made decisions for her and even see these circumstances as a trial that has been placed on the path leading to accomplishment and one that must be overcome.

  Indeed, I believe that I am able to say that this diary will help me become accomplished, even more so, because I procured this idea through Mr. Collins himself. I therefore see this as no more than a gift from the heavens!

  Shortly before his departure, he came to see me just as I was concluding my practising of a nocturne by John Field. ‘Miss Mary,’ he said to me, ‘did you know that my great-great aunt Jane Collins was the wife of reverend Samuel Woodforde?’ I was not aware of this, but I immediately showed my interest, as he was holding in his hand this little journal in which I am presently writing. He then explained to me that the Woodfordes had kept personal diaries for several generations, and kept them still. As an example, he told me of Reverend James Woodforde, deceased in 1803, who had kept a diary for forty-five years! I was most impressed and curious to learn more; I thus asked him how he had come to know this. He told me that, from time to time, he met with the granddaughter of his relative, Anna Maria Woodforde, who also kept a diary, and that he believed that I could do the same, as I was so mature. I was flattered – my hope is that I am not exhibiting vanity in saying so – by his compliment. When he presented me with the journal, he confessed that he was happy to be able to present this to me as a gift. However, he imposed one condition: I was to use the Sermons by Reverend Fordyce as a guide regarding morals, because, he concluded, ‘the virtue of a young woman is that which is most important’. It really was not difficult for me to comply with his request.