Devotion
Page 27
And what of Georgiana and Amaury in all this? They seemed to have been brought no closer together by events. The Darcys remained at Pemberley, where they considered Georgiana safe from the danger of seeing her lover again; they said not a syllable of Amaury to Georgiana, nor did the Gardiners speak of Georgiana to Amaury. Every day made silence more excruciating to Georgiana. She wanted to believe in the imminence of perfect bliss, but her heart feared mischance and doubts would have clouded her spirit had she not valiantly defended whenever they materialized. Every thing seemed suspended. No one seemed able, or willing, to say whether John Marlowe, Viscount Marlowe, would be any more palatable a husband than John Amaury.
During this time Georgiana and Amaury continued their clandestine correspondence. She gave him every encouragement that she could muster to carry out their plan of elopement, but he had expectation of an auspicious change and urged that a little time and patience would see it accomplished. She however had no such dependence. Suffering under what she classified as callous and insensitive values of her family she was driven to write her disappointment in the following terms:
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My dearest Amaury,
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Are our thoughts and wishes not in perfect accord? Has our engagement become in truth a source of repentance to you? Your reluctance speaks so coldly to me. I cannot conceive that our marriage cannot take place immediately if we wish it. We need no one’s consent and we will have an income more than sufficient for our wants. What more is there to wait for? Yet you say still you shrink from any hasty action. My affection for you is implanted so deeply that I cannot change it. Have you really grown indifferent to me? Is my heart to be wasted on you for all of my life? I take leave of you, longing to see you and trusting that we shall very soon be together once more. Do not doubt my love, and give me no cause to doubt yours. Be faithful to your word.
Your own
Georgiana
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This letter made its way very sharply to his feelings. “How can you think so wretchedly of me, after all that has passed between us?” he remonstrated in reply. But he, while consistently affirming a regard for her that was as strong as her own for him, and declaring that he recognized her as his future wife, with a consistent degree of discretion refused to marry without her brother’s permission. Georgiana thought him most unreasonable and could not comprehend his scruples. The resolution of character she recognized, but not the new principles of strict integrity.
Soon however a communication was made to Amaury whose effect he could not resist. It derived not from Georgiana but Lady Metcalf, whose position in the world made her privy to a much greater extent than the Gardiners and Amaury, or the Darcys in Derbyshire, to what was being said (and written) by society. When she told Amaury a part, and by no means the worst part, of what had been relayed about Georgiana he realized, that such a predicament was impossible to endure; now at last he wrote to Georgiana concluding arrangements for them to reunite in Lambton and travel from there to Scotland.
Had any suspicion of such plans occurred to her family, action would certainly have been taken to prevent the marriage. But Georgiana’s cunning prevailed. Not a soul suspected any thing until she was several hours gone from the Lambton Arms in a post-chaise with Amaury.
With the blessing of Providence they were not frustrated in the purpose of their journey and the marriage took place in the Old Toll Booth at Lamberton, the two standing unaware in the exact position where Amaury’s parents had stood many years before. When they were named man and wife by the toll keeper it would be difficult to say which of the two was the happiest, which thought to have claimed the greater prize.
They arrived at Pemberley on a fine September day as a wedded couple. They had not hastened their return, as if anxious to relieve the fears of her family, nor had they delayed it, as if in dread of a choleric reception. They returned at exactly the fitting time. They were driven up to the door of the house, where the first person to greet them was the butler Mr. Spurgeon. “Miss Darcy, thank God you are brought safe home!” he said to her.
“Of course I am safe! But you must call me Mrs. Amaury now,” replied Georgiana proudly. “Where is your master?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are in the saloon. I will inform them that you are here.”
“Whatever for? I do not need to be announced in my own home. Come, Amaury.”
Amaury touched her arm. “Stay, Georgiana. I shall always consult your feelings, but at the present moment I do not believe that it would reflect credit either on us or on your brother and sister to intrude without permitting them to prepare themselves. Will you allow me to instruct your servant?” And with Georgiana’s not-quite-instantaneous answering pressure on his hand he nodded at the butler who rather to his surprise found himself bowing to the gentleman and walking off to do his bidding.
When a quarter of an hour later Darcy and Elizabeth received their delinquent sister and new brother, they saw what they had expected – rapturous love, certainly, but also conspicuous triumph and defiance. That was on Georgiana’s countenance. The handsome young man at her side also could not conceal his love, but it was mingled with shame and penitence.
There was silence while the younger couple approached the elder across the room – no cries of relief and joy on either side, no words of welcome called out; although Elizabeth’s and Amaury’s eyes met in a glance that affirmed their recollection of the carriage rides in the Park. At last, when the four were within reach of one another Darcy said, “You are well Georgiana? You have made us very uneasy.”
“Why would I not be well?” said Georgiana rather crossly. “I am more well than I have been forever. I am happy now, and you can do nothing to destroy my happiness.”
“My love,” said Amaury, taking both her hands in his and speaking with unbounded affection, “let us be both kind and generous in our happiness. What else can be of true advantage to us?” Turning to his new relations he said, “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, I have faults enough, that I know it will take long to establish your good opinion of me, but allow me to assure you of two things. The first is that Georgiana’s welfare on our journey was the object of my most assiduous care and that she is in the best of health. The second is that I would never have entertained any design of marrying her privately if I had not believed, both sincerely in my heart and on the most rational evidence, that it was best for her. Know that Georgiana herself is totally devoid of reproach in our elopement, and that the insistence all originated on my side. I have been meticulously promised by three of the most respected counsel in England (for in such a vital matter I would not rely on a single statement) that my claim to the viscountcy and estate is incontestable and that I will publicly be acknowledged as Viscount Marlowe within a year at the very latest. I would not have married Georgiana, with or without your approval, under any other condition than that of holding a title and estate proper to her birth rank. Perhaps you will say I should have judged better than to take her away from Pemberley without your consent, but on the most conscientious deliberation I concluded that for the sake of her reputation it was imperative to marry as soon as possible, for only our prompt union would protect her from increasingly malicious gossip. But even with such an urgent motive, it was with extreme compunction that I took a step that must have greatly alarmed you. That I have offended against you, however necessarily, is deeply painful to me; I apologize with all humility and hope in time to obtain your forgiveness.”
Here was an audacious speech from the man who in his selfishness had first plotted to gain Georgiana’s hand and fortune, then injured her name, and finally secretly wed her in the teeth of all her family’s unambiguous opposition! This thought did cross the minds of Darcy and Elizabeth, but only superficially, for they wished to avoid a futile review of the past, and Amaury’s openness was so winning, his words so sincerely spoken and his attitude so completely expressive of his contrition,
that almost in spite of themselves his new brother and sister began to feel that Georgiana’s match was not quite the unmitigated disaster they had believed it, and were moved towards clemency. There was that about John Amaury, which unerringly attracted the partiality of those he sought to influence. And as a further inducement to goodwill they could not avoid seeing and appreciating the charms of his person, the refinement of his address, the intelligence in his eye. If his courtship of Georgiana could have been conducted in a sanctioned manner he could not have failed to win their approbation as her consort.
The new husband and wife stood before the Darcys and waited to hear whether they would be received into the family.
Darcy and Elizabeth looked at each other, taking guidance and perhaps strength. The elopement had been a bitter pill to swallow, and the Darcys’ displeasure was both just and reasonable. Their resistance to the request for pardon ought to be commensurate with the crime. But there is another school of thought, that mercy and understanding ought to be dispensed in the measures of love. Darcy and Elizabeth despite all that had passed loved Georgiana very dearly and on the basis of five minutes’ acquaintance they also found themselves prepared to learn to love John Amaury.
“You are welcome at Pemberley,” said Darcy, “and Elizabeth and I hope that you find as much felicity in your marriage as we in ours.” Her brother and sister both then embraced Georgiana, and Darcy offered his hand to Amaury. And thus Georgiana’s marriage did not divide her from her family. That is not to say that all of the Darcys’ concerns were immediately assuaged, for when Elizabeth found herself alone with Georgiana later that day she took the opportunity of asking, “I hope you did not marry a bad man in the hope of making him good?” Georgiana replied, “No. I married a good man in the hope of showing the world that they are mistaken in condemning him as bad.”
By rapid stages the Darcys and the Amaurys advanced in the favourable evaluation of one another; the Darcys’ memory of Amaury’s previous life decreased and their esteem increased until they held him in very high affection, equally regarding and respecting him. The Gardiners had forgiven Amaury for marrying Georgiana without leave even before he had actually done so, for there was nothing that could have pleased them more than bringing him into their family connexion. Earlier therefore than anyone could have anticipated the entire family was wholly reconciled. Elizabeth said to Georgiana, “You have hoped we would grow to love him as a brother, and I may tell you that we now see no more blemish in his heart than we do in his countenance.”
This was all that had been lacking to make Georgiana and Amaury the happiest couple in the world; and of a marriage so well provided with blessings your imagination must supply the rest.
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EPILOGUE
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Mr. Collins was persuaded by Lady Catherine de Bourgh to change the title of his novel to “Lætitia; or Vice Rebuk’d” and to alter some of the details that closely identified the Bennet family – not, of course, for the sake of the Bennets, but for the sake of Lady Catherine who had so inexplicably (to her) become entangled with them. It may be that “persuasion” is not the appropriate word to use when referring to Lady Catherine’s methods of molding the world to her will, and that Mr. Collins will smart for some time from her coaxing.
Once Charlotte Collins was made to understand the nature of her husband’s activities in his room, for having little interest in what he did in his room as long as he stayed in it she had merely supposed him to be very slow at writing sermons, she gave him every possible encouragement in his literary endeavours, urged that a four-volume novel was by no means beyond his abilities, and very often at breakfast suggested a theme for an epic poem. Sonnets she absolutely scorned for their brevity.
Whatever Anne de Bourgh’s thoughts on being successively jilted by Fitzwilliam Darcy, Colonel James Fitzwilliam and Thomas Marlowe, they have not been recorded, and she continued to drive her pony phaeton about Hunsford parish. The feelings of her mother were diverse: clearly it was a fortunate escape that her daughter had not married a penniless rake who had not even a title to screen his humiliation; yet the title and estate that had been Thomas Marlowe’s were annexed by her own niece Georgiana Darcy, who ought to have shown greater reverence for Lady Catherine’s rank and fortune; and while Lord Marlowe had been engaged to Anne, Lady Catherine’s bête noire, Mrs. Bennet, had somehow inveigled him into eloping with her follower, a destitute girl of the neighbourhood. She scarcely knew how to react. However a letter from Penelope Harrington that poured out to her the young lady’s gratitude and esteem influenced Lady Catherine to invite her to Rosings for a week’s visit – for looking about herself, she had seen no one among her relations or friends who could supply the comfort and balm her spirit required at this moment – and in the course of that autumnal visit a bond of real tenderness between them was forged. The week turned into four, and at the end of them Lady Catherine asked Pen to accompany her to Bath, where she planned to take up residence in Camden-place from the beginning of the New Year. I need hardly say that Pen accepted this invitation with delight.
Mrs. Bennet was convinced that if Pen had eloped with Thomas Marlowe when given the opportunity she not only would have obtained a husband through Mrs. Bennet’s offices but Marlowe would have remained Viscount Marlowe and owner of the Surrey estate. She could barely contain herself on the subject. She was quite unable to see Pen without experiencing violent irritation and assuring her each time that she was done with her. “I take no pleasure in talking to you, when because of your perverseness you not only squandered the certainty of a good marriage, but a very fine and civil gentleman has lost everything to a half-caste brother who was born out of wedlock. It is very hard, when I think of it. But I suppose every one else is to be thwarted as long as you may have your own way.” She was so vehemently misguided on such a number of points that no body could see any possibility of correcting her, so they left her to rail uninterrupted. As Pen had transferred her allegiance to Lady Catherine by this time she was not very much disturbed by Mrs. Bennet’s fulminations.
Mrs. Hurst rapidly after being informed of Lady Mallinger’s engagement to Sir John Thorn recognized and freely admitted that she had been entirely wrong in her estimation of him, was mortified by her former rudeness to him, and took pains to get to know him and to do justice to the superiority of his mind and character. This, of course, is unmitigated nonsense. In fact her discontentment with her sister’s choice of husband continued uncurbed for a prodigious period. However once having been positively assured that society thought no less of her sister for marrying Sir John, and seeing that the couple were welcomed everywhere, her prejudices abated a little and her ideas revolved towards country houses suitable for Sir John and Lady Thorn, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, well equipped with fireplaces and within easy travelling distance of town. She suffered a little when in contact with Sir John, but probably it did her no great harm.
The reader may perhaps feel, that I have treated Lady Mallinger, née Caroline Bingley, with more kindness than she deserved; but if we treat everyone according to their desserts, who among us will escape whipping? Restored to all that they had believed lost, Sir John and Lady Thorn were perhaps happier in their re-union than in their first-projected union, more confident in knowledge of each other’s character, more accommodating, and more affectionate. Between them every unpleasant circumstance of the past was by mutual consent forgotten, and any fortuitous reminder only increased their attachment. Lady Thorn immediately set about paying off every debt of consideration and civility that she owed to her husband and would soon have been his creditor in that regard had he shown less determination to match her efforts. Lady Thorn was, naturally, required to live in Man
chester for the greater portion of each year. She undertook this duty gladly, remaining at her husband’s side and making no effort to escape the dirty streets and atmosphere except in his company. Her London airs and graces had little currency in her new home and she had the wisdom, or perhaps the snobbery, not to try to elevate the tone of her new neighbours. Instead she threw herself into comprehending her husband’s business thoroughly, and although (in spite of her celebrated antecedents in trade) there never arrived a time when she would have not run have it into the ground within a year if he had died and left it to her management, she was a wonderful source of strength to him. Sir John and Lady Thorn held a regular salon at which merchants, manufacturers, engineers, architects and inventors were received and although most of them had grating accents and badly cut coats, Lady Thorn forgave their defects when she discovered how much she was admired at these gatherings for her ability to listen intelligently, as well as her handsome countenance and graceful form. Thus she did “retrace the laughing part of life with another” as Lord Byron had wished for her.
Lord Byron’s residence that year on Lake Geneva is better known for matters other than the drowning of Sir Henry Mallinger, to wit, inspiring the creation of two novels of the kind which I promised at the commencement of this one would be inflicted on no reader; and shocking the sensibilities of both the English and the Swiss, for he had left his wife and child in England and was joined in Switzerland by two other gentlemen, one of whom had also left his wife and young children, and two young ladies who were not married to any of the gentlemen.10 When fall arrived Lord Byron left the Villa Diodati and migrated to Venice, where he continued to lead an irregular life.