Pemberley Chronicles

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Of artifice there was certainly a good deal, for both women seemed determined to make themselves, rather than Jane or Jonathan, the centre of attention. Dressing in the very latest of modish clothes and wearing hats trimmed with spectacular plumes, they might have been attending the Coronation at the Abbey, rather than a simple family christening at a country church. Jane, wearing her favourite shade of blue and a completely natural Madonna-like smile, put them all to shame. Bingley, together with most of the congregation, had eyes for none other.

  So wrote Elizabeth to her friend Charlotte Collins. Charlotte was unable to travel to Hertfordshire; she was close to being delivered of her second child. She had written, however, begging to be excused and promising to call on Jane when she came to Lucas Lodge at Christmas. Elizabeth had to inform her that her sister and brother-in-law would be gone before Christmas to their new place in Leicestershire.

  Jane has asked me, dear Charlotte, to say how much she appreciates your pretty gift and kind wishes. She hopes sincerely that you and Mr Collins will find time to visit them and stay a few days at Ashford House, preferably in April or May, when it will be very pretty with the Spring. Dear Charlotte, if I may add my own good wishes and ask you to consider coming to Pemberley as well, since we are but twenty miles from Ashford Park, it will be a pleasure to have you.

  Elizabeth’s affection for her friend remained undiminished, despite the stupidity of Mr Collins and her initial anger at Charlotte for accepting him. She was even more pleased to discover that Darcy had a very good opinion of the character and good sense of Mrs Collins, though he could not abide the pompous verbosity of her husband.

  There was also the extra affection she merited for having invited Elizabeth to stay at Hunsford two years ago, thereby providing for her an opportunity to visit Rosings and meet Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam in a social setting far removed from the tribulations of Longbourn or Meryton, which had so afflicted Mr Darcy.

  She had, on occasion, teased her husband and obtained from him a confession that he had been trying hard to put her out of his mind, when he met her again, quite unexpectedly, at Rosings. “And do tell me, were you on the verge of success?” she would ask, determined to obtain full value for her question. Darcy looked shamefaced as he admitted that he had not been succeeding at all.

  “It was not for lack of trying, my dearest Lizzie, but as you know, I was totally out of my depth. Finding you staying with Mrs Collins, so close at hand, made it a hopeless proposition.”

  “So, it is to Charlotte we owe at least some part of our present happiness?” she asked, and Darcy gladly admitted that this was indeed the case. Elizabeth also took her friend into her confidence about the child she was expecting in May, hoping Charlotte would find it an added reason for visiting Pemberley next Spring.

  Elizabeth’s parents were told after dinner, on the last evening of their stay at Netherfield Park. The uproar at Longbourn, with her father’s quiet pleasure being totally eclipsed by the jubilation of her mother, who would no doubt feel compelled to advise the entire neighbourhood of her daughter’s condition, convinced Elizabeth that she had done the right thing by concealing the news until the last possible moment.

  The wedding of Rosamund Camden and James Fitzwilliam should have been a big social event. Preparations were afoot for a celebration of some considerable significance.

  As it happened, the sudden death of the bride’s mother, a month from the appointed wedding day, caused a complete change of plan. The family decided that despite their grief at the loss of their mother, it would be better to proceed with Rosamund’s wedding. Sir Edmond, devoted as he was to his wife of some twenty-five years, could not countenance the disappointment his daughter would suffer, if she were compelled to postpone her wedding.

  A few days after the funeral, Rosamund and her father came to Pemberley to explain that there would not be the lavish wedding they had planned but only a family breakfast after the ceremony at the church, to which close friends and relations would be asked.

  Elizabeth had not known Lady Camden at all well, but her friendship with Rosamund was warm and sincere. Her grief affected Elizabeth deeply, and feeling rather helpless, she offered to assist in any way she could.

  Writing later to Jane, she explained:

  Poor Rosamund, it is the worst possible thing, to be so bereft just before her wedding. Dear Jane, it is difficult for me to know how deeply she feels the loss of her mother, since I have never been as close to Mama as Rosamund was to Lady Camden. Being the only daughter must also have made the bond stronger, and apart from myself and Georgiana, she has really no one to whom she might turn for consolation.

  Elizabeth gave Jane an account of all that had taken place. She could not resist including more praise for the generosity of her husband and his concern for the Camdens:

  It is not only his family and mine that benefit from his generous nature; it is anyone in his circle who needs his help. I had not known how often he has extended his hand to help those who live on his estate, until Mrs. Reynolds enlightened me, when I made casual mention of it while we were visiting Rushmore Farm. Dear Jane, because he speaks rarely of it, his work in helping people in need is not widely known. It is not just our sister Lydia and Wickham, however undeserving, who have recently been beneficiaries of his goodness.

  In a similar letter to her Aunt Gardiner, Elizabeth noted that she was sure she was not telling her anything she did not already know, recalling that only a year or two ago, Mr and Mrs Gardiner had recognised the nobility of Darcy’s character, long before she did.

  She wrote:

  Of course, I may plead that in my case, I had not been privy to the words and deeds that you and my uncle were able to hear and see. I cannot, however, excuse my own prejudice, which had for so long blinded me to the qualities that you were able to recognise in him, because you were sufficiently clear sighted and had not permitted your judgement to be clouded by rumour and malice.

  After the wedding, Elizabeth wrote again to her sister, expressing some degree of surprise:

  We had all had some fears for Rosamund, knowing she was sure to recall her mother at almost every moment. But truly, Jane, we need not have worried. Rosamund was calm and very composed that morning. Mr Darcy believes that James and Rosamund are well-matched and will be happily married. I am inclined to agree, though I do not have his advantage of knowing both parties since childhood.

  Jane, I know you will be very glad to hear that our dear Kitty did very well with the little Children’s Choir, which performed so beautifully, everyone remarked upon the sweetness of their singing. There was, especially, a little Welsh hymn taught to the children by Mr Jenkins, that was quite perfect. We are all very proud of Kitty, Georgiana, and the children, of course.

  Now that the wedding is over, Kitty and Mr Jenkins are to visit Longbourn, so he can be introduced to Mama. They leave tomorrow with Georgiana for London, where they will stay with Uncle and Aunt Gardiner (Kitty means to purchase some of her trousseau in London, and our aunt has kindly consented to advise her, for Kitty knows nothing of London) and then proceed with my aunt as companion to Longbourn. No doubt, Mama will make a great deal of the matter of meeting Mr Jenkins. I look forward to receiving from you, my dear sister, a complete account of the visit. While they are all away, Darcy plans that we should visit a family property in Wales. I saw one of them when we were travelling last year after our wedding, but I had not the time nor, I confess, the calmness of mind, to fully appreciate the beauty of the countryside. This time I shall do better, though I wish I could sketch and paint as Georgiana does. You will have to be satisfied with my descriptions.

  Do give our love to your husband and darling Jonathan. We look forward to seeing you all at Christmas.

  Your loving sister,

  Lizzie.

  CHAPTER NINE

  New vistas

  A DAY OR TWO BEFORE Darcy and Elizabeth set off on their journey to South Wales, a letter arrived for Darcy from Bingley
’s brother-in-law Mr Hurst. Writing from London, he advised that they—that is, Mr and Mrs Hurst and Miss Caroline Bingley—were joining a large party from Bath, where they now lived for most of the year, to travel to Paris. “Paris?” cried Elizabeth as Darcy read the letter aloud, “Why Paris?”

  “Patience, my dear Lizzie, the answer to your question follows,” said her husband and proceeded to read the letter. It said that Paris, after the defeat of Napoleon Bonaparte, was fast becoming a fashionable, cosmopolitan city, worthy of a visit by a party from England. Mr Hurst assured Mr Darcy that he had been told by many gentlemen of quality, who had recently crossed the Channel, that there were already a number of prominent members of the English and Irish aristocracy who had set up fine establishments in Paris and entertained French and visiting English persons at soirées and coffee parties. He named a couple of ladies of very high renown indeed and suggested that his wife had obtained assurances that they would be invited to their famous cultural gatherings. As Darcy read on, Elizabeth became more puzzled by the writer’s motive in penning the letter until at the penultimate paragraph, Darcy suddenly stopped and exclaimed, “Good God! He invites us to join them! Lizzie, Mr and

  Mrs Hurst would be delighted if you and I would join their party. It seems they had hoped Bingley and Jane would go, but the arrival of Jonathan has rather dashed their hopes.” Elizabeth could not believe her ears, and when he added, “What do you say, Lizzie, shall it be the salons of Paris or the valleys of Wales?” she laughed out loud.

  “I cannot imagine why they would choose to invite us; what motive could they possibly have?”

  “I dare not speculate upon that, Lizzie, but Hurst has obviously decided to ensure he has some company; he cannot know too many of the party from Bath. He has realised that he would be on his own, while his wife and Caroline attended all those soirées and parties, and has decided to persuade us to join them.” Elizabeth could not believe that it was a prospect her husband would appreciate.

  “How fortunate that we are already engaged to go to Wales,” she said, quietly. Darcy smiled rather mischievously and said, “My feelings exactly, my dear, I shall write at once and decline on the grounds that we are about to leave for Wales, which has, I might add, a remarkable number of County families, some excellent houses, and some of the most beautiful landscapes in the country. I cannot vouch for salons and soirées, but I can wager we shall not miss them. Do you not agree, my dear?”

  Elizabeth laughed and agreed that indeed they would not.

  When she wrote of this quite amazing occurrence to her Aunt Gardiner, Elizabeth did not fail to mention the obvious scorn that Darcy had shown for the Parisian expedition of the Hursts and Caroline Bingley, nor the delight she herself had taken in it:

  Imagine if you would, dear Aunt, Mrs Hurst and Caroline, dressed in the height of fashion, complete with plumed chapeaux, attending the salons and soirees of Lady X or Dame Y. Maybe I am unduly suspicious, but I cannot help feeling that the invitation came at the behest of the Bingley women, who must have hoped to show me up as a country girl with none of the sophistication and panache one expects of the aspiring Parisienne! I need not tell you how delighted I was when Darcy wrote to decline (not that there was any danger of our ever accepting) on account of a previous arrangement to visit Wales. I quote from his letter, “I have long wanted to show Elizabeth the very particular beauty of South Wales, including the magnificent Brecon Beacons area, which lies to the East of the property my family acquired some fifty years ago. We are both looking forward to it very much indeed.”

  By the time Mrs Gardiner received her letter, Darcy and Elizabeth had already left Pemberley, travelling through Birmingham, Worcester, and Cheltenham, where they broke journey, before crossing into Wales.

  This was now a journey of many shared pleasures, since Elizabeth was inclined to hold Darcy to his promise in his letter to Mr Hurst, to show her all the particular beauties of South Wales. They stayed at little towns and villages until they finally reached the manor house a few miles uphill from Llandovery, an old Celtic market town, which traced its history back to a Roman fort and its reputation as a commercial centre to a licence to trade granted by Richard the Third. The property that Mr Darcy’s family had acquired lay in the fertile upper Towy valley, reaching from the softly undulating pasturelands to the rocky foothills of the Cambrian mountains. An abundance of trout in the rivers and streams as well as plenty of game catered for the tastes of the gentlemen, but for Elizabeth there was no greater pleasure than walking. Although under serious orders not to overtire herself, she would spend many happy hours with her maid, an avid walker herself, exploring the woods and meadows, while Darcy attended to matters of business with his Steward.

  In Wales, too, the pressure to enclose land was growing, but on Darcy’s property, which ran cattle, produced food, and provided many men and women with good farm jobs, there was none. There was, however, another problem that was spreading rapidly through the countryside of the English Midlands and South Wales. The presence of coal in huge quantities had always meant that some areas of the country were destined to be industrialised. The demand for coal, essential to the iron and steel industry, meant increasing numbers of men, women, and children moving to the squalid little towns that clustered around the mines. Smoke, grime, and the ubiquitous slag heaps dominated the once-pretty landscapes of many parts of England and Wales, as well as the lives of the hapless people who laboured and lived there.

  Elizabeth had remarked upon the freshness of the air in the Towy valley, but her husband had looked rather sombre and responded that there was no knowing how long it would last. Finding him somewhat melancholy one evening, Elizabeth asked if she may share his thoughts. Immediately contrite at having shut her out, he was keen to explain, “I’m sorry, dearest, it is not that I do not wish to share my concerns with you; it is more a matter of my inability to understand them myself. We have spent several days here, enjoying the magnificence of the Welsh landscape, and yet all the time the threat of an expanding coal industry hangs over it. There seems to be an irresistible power in the hands of those who own these mines. They control the government and are able to roll over the objections of any local landholders.” Elizabeth was shocked at his sense of helplessness.

  “But surely, there are no plans for mines here?”

  “Not just now, but I am told the Lord—— has been making inquiries; should he succeed in securing mining rights on the slopes above the river, there would be very little we could do. The slag heaps would cover the hillsides, and the streams would be choked with run-off from the mines.” He sounded so unhappy that Elizabeth said nothing for a few minutes; then, wanting to console him, she sighed and said,

  “At least, they cannot touch Pemberley.” He smiled and took her hand, “Yes, they can never get their hands on Pemberley, but Lizzie, this is more than just a question of Pemberley and my family; it is a matter of England’s heritage; this landscape is all we have. To despoil it is to destroy our children’s inheritance. I am determined to see that this valley is not destroyed, if I can possibly help it.”

  Elizabeth wrote to Jane and again to her aunt—quiet, serious letters from the heart:

  There is so much beauty here and yet, so much ugliness, lying in wait to tear it all apart for profit. Every day, we see places of spectacular beauty, but because they are within reach of coal miners, they seem doomed to become part of the great black mass that is spreading across the land. Darcy is very depressed at the way the countryside is being despoiled and vows he will do something about it.

  On the last night they spent at Llandeilo, they dined with the family of Sir Tristram Williams, who had been a friend of Darcy’s father and whose mother was related to his aunt, Lady Catherine. They talked of the unhappy state of England’s rural people. Darcy had heard a number of alarming reports of action by desperate labourers and miners who were being thrown out of work by greedy mine and factory owners, cutting their losses in the face of a deepening
recession. Sir Tristram’s son, a lad not yet eighteen home on vacation from College, railed against the “do-nothing government” and determined that he would join the Reform Party and enter Parliament, since that was the only way to stop their mendacity.

  He surprised them even more with his support for his older sister, Jessica, who declared that women should have the vote, because, “We would then elect some of the right people to the Parliament at Westminster, not just landlords and mill-owners, whose only interest is in increasing their own wealth. England needs some Reformers,” she said.

  “I shall be one of them, and I shall teach the slavers and spoilers a lesson,” declared her brother, fiercely.

  David’s parents indulged him and smiled at his fiery sentiments, but Darcy said later that he wished he had been as keenly aware as David, with as much determination to right the wrongs that he could see around him. “Unfortunately, when I was young David’s age, I was too satisfied with my own life to even think about the problems of others. I see now that the selfish lives we led, ill prepared us to recognise our real enemies.” Elizabeth protested, “Darcy, I will not have you say that. You are not selfish; indeed you are quite the least selfish man I know.”

  “That, my dearest, is because I have, thanks in no small measure to you, learned my lesson. A little late, perhaps, but it is well-learned,” he replied. “I promise you, Lizzie, I will do everything I can to teach our children their duty, not just to their family and friends but to all those who share this land with us.” Elizabeth was able by now to recognise determination in his voice. She knew he meant every word.

  Leaving Wales, they stopped at an inn, where, to their horror, they learned of a dreadful accident which had cost several travellers their lives, when a coach had overturned, throwing its passengers into a gorge. Despite the best efforts of engineers and road builders all over England, many roads were still quite hazardous. Elizabeth was depressed by the bad news and longed to be back at Pemberley—her safe haven of stability in an increasingly changeable world.