Pemberley Chronicles

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  It was late evening when they reached the surrounding woodlands, and Elizabeth looked out as if she was making the approach for the first time, realising now how much she had come to regard it as her home. She loved the glow of the setting sun on the reddening Autumn foliage and never failed to be impressed by the first glimpse of the stone work of the house, as it came into view on the far side of the valley. She felt a deep sense of peace and well-being, which seemed to seep in from her surroundings and fill her heart and mind. As if he had read her thoughts, Darcy took her hand to help her out, smiled, and said simply, “Here we are, Lizzie; is it not good to be home?”

  “Oh, indeed, it is,” she replied, with a heartfelt sigh of relief.

  There were several letters waiting for them at Pemberley. Elizabeth, having greeted Mrs Reynolds and instructed her maid Jenny on the disposition of her luggage, hurried to her room to read hers. By the time Darcy came upstairs, she had scanned them once very quickly and was about to settle down to read them over again.

  The first letter she opened brought good news from her Aunt Gardiner. She wrote of Kitty and Mr Jenkins, whom they both had come to like very well, for his gentle humour and perfect manners:

  Were he not a clergyman, dearest Lizzie, one would have felt constrained to suggest that he had missed his calling. He is all that Kitty needs to counter balance her immaturity, and yet he seems to enjoy and value her youthful enthusiasm greatly. He could not be stopped from describing in minutest detail all the effort Kitty and Georgiana had put into the training of the Children’s Choir; their performance at the wedding of Miss Camden was no less than perfection, we are told. It certainly augurs well for their union that he is so pleased with her and she is so eager to please him.

  There was more about their shopping expeditions and Kitty’s choice of a particular shade of green for a winter gown that Mr Jenkins liked and much more. This brought a smile to Elizabeth’s lips.

  Jane’s letter, which had been written over several days, was more in the nature of jottings in a diary than a letter. She had had very little time to write about anything in detail, except for a visit from her in-laws, the Hursts and Miss Bingley, recording in somewhat incredulous words the fact that they were going to Paris!

  Just think, Lizzie, they are with a large party from Bath—retired generals and admirals mostly, who wish to see Paris after the end of Bonaparte! Can you imagine Caroline Bingley and her sister among them? They spoke of invitations to salons and soirées, but with only Mr Hurst to escort them, I cannot believe they will enjoy it very much. Indeed, Mr Bingley tells me Caroline has some French, mainly to read and sing, but not to parlais and Mrs Hurst has none at all. Lizzie, without a sound understanding of French, I confess I am confused as to how they will get on.

  Jane was clearly puzzled. Elizabeth laughed and read it all out to Darcy, who responded with a comment that it was to be hoped that there would always be a couch available at the soirées, large enough to accommodate Mr Hurst, when he fell asleep during the recitals.

  Jane also had news of Kitty:

  Kitty is expected with Aunt Gardiner tomorrow and we are to dine at Longbourn on Thursday. I shall write again to give you an account of the occasion, but from what our father has said, I imagine it will be one of Mama’s favourite days. The Lucases and the Longs are invited, and no doubt Aunt Phillips will attend. I am very glad Aunt Gardiner is to be with us.

  Jane apologised for the shortness of her letter and the scrappiness of its execution; little Jonathan had been unwell with a cold and needed her all the time, she explained. She concluded with love to both of them and wishes they were with her also. Jane’s eternally generous and kind nature would not let her say it, but her sister could sense the frustration she felt at having to shield Kitty and Mr Jenkins from the excesses of her mother, without Elizabeth beside her for support.

  Most interesting of all Elizabeth’s letters was one from Georgiana Darcy. She had spent a week with the Continis—an Italian family with whom they had become friends some years ago, in London. A talented and artistic couple, they had immediately liked Georgiana, and with her brother’s permission, she had accompanied them to the Opera and recitals of Chamber Music by an Italian maestro.

  Georgiana wrote enthusiastically of galleries visited and a particularly beautiful performance of “The Magic Flute” which she had attended with the Continis, only to find Dr Grantley in the audience:

  Signora Contini invited him to join us in their box, and afterwards he came to supper at Portman Square, and it was quite remarkable how much he knew of Mozart and the Opera. Dr Grantley is in London to attend a Synod of the Church, which he has explained to me is the Parliament of the Church of England. They have long discussions and make important decisions about the Church, he says. He is therefore very busy all day, but Signor and Signora Contini have invited him to dine with us again at the end of the week on the day before we are due to return to Pemberley. For that evening, Signora Contini has engaged a String Quartet, and she suggests that I might join them in a performance of a Piano quintet, the music only recently received from Paris. It is very beautiful, and while I do not know if I shall succeed, I intend to practice every day to master it. Dr Grantley is very sure that I shall, but then he is always very kind.

  There was no mistaking the affectionate tone of her letter, and Elizabeth wondered if it was not time to talk to her young sister-in-law about Dr Grantley.

  Meanwhile, Darcy’s silence on the subject puzzled her. She passed the letter to him and watched as he read it. A slight smile was all he permitted himself as he handed it back to her. “Georgiana seems to be enjoying herself in London,” she remarked, hoping to draw him out.

  “She always does,” he said. “The Continis are very fond of her; they lost a young daughter some years ago and treat Georgiana as if she were their own. Signora Contini is a singer of some renown, and her husband is a very keen patron of the arts. It means my sister is well-placed to see and hear some remarkable performances when she is with them.”

  This did not satisfy Lizzie at all. She was not looking for a dissertation on the Continis and the Arts rather for some insight into Darcy’s thinking on the subject of Dr Grantley and Georgiana. She tried again, using a different opening, “What a coincidence that they should meet Dr Grantley at the Opera.” This time Darcy put down his own letter, smiled, and shook his head.

  “You must do better than that, my dear; I know you wish to talk about them, but until there is something to speak of, I have nothing to say.” He was smiling, but his expression gave nothing away.

  “Oh you are vexing,” she cried and then, deciding that she was going to play the same game, “Ah well, I suppose I shall have to wait to hear it from Georgiana, when she returns.” Elizabeth was certain that Darcy had noticed the growing friendship between his sister and his dearest friend. She was impatient to discover his thoughts, but she had too much respect for him to pry—knowing he would tell her when he was ready. But her patience was wearing thin.

  Elizabeth awoke the next morning before the sun had climbed above the wooded hills behind the house. Darcy had risen and was out riding, as he did most mornings before breakfast. Looking out over the park, she was sure she could see him with his groom in the distance, but so deep were the shadows in that part of the park, that she could not be certain. Her husband’s dressing room afforded a clearer view of the path leading from the woods. Elizabeth went through the unlocked door to the window, beside which stood his desk. His manservant had obviously been and laid out his clothes; beside them, fallen to the floor, was a letter, two pages of fine white paper, closely written in perfect copperplate. Before she realised what she was doing, Elizabeth had picked it up and unfolded it to reveal the writer’s name. When she saw who it was, she stood still as if rooted to the spot. The letter was from Dr Grantley; it was dated from London—just three days ago. Elizabeth recalled immediately that it had been written some twenty-four hours after Georgiana’s letter to her.Why
had Darcy not revealed its contents to her? Elizabeth was very confused, and against every one of her normal instincts except that of curiosity alone, against her better judgement, she read quickly, her cheeks burning, fearful lest a servant should come in and find her.

  What she read only confirmed her own observations. Dr Grantley was deeply in love with Georgiana but had not approached her until he was sure of his own feelings and her brother’s judgment. Having met her again in London, he was convinced of his own inability to go on seeing her without revealing his feelings and attempting to discover if they were welcome and perhaps returned. Yet, he wanted Darcy’s permission to do so. “Oh why do you all need his permission?” Lizzie almost cried out loud—recalling Bingley and Jane, “Why do you not follow your heart?” Reading on, she found the reason. Dr Grantley was aware of the cruel episode involving Wickham, which had so nearly wrecked Georgiana’s life. Darcy had confided in him at the time, and he did not wish to do anything that would cause either Georgiana or Darcy any pain or hurt. Elizabeth soon understood why Darcy had said nothing to her. Dr Grantley begged him to treat the entire matter in confidence, until it was resolved.

  I ask it only because, whatever happens, I cannot break with you and your family. Darcy, you are such precious friends, that I should be desolated to lose you—should your sister not accept me. If that should happen, or you should feel that I am too old for her or have some other objection to my suit, it would be a terrible loss, but so much worse if it meant that I could not continue our friendship, because my affections and my disappointment were too widely known and spoken of. I have no right to ask this of you, Darcy, but because we have been as brothers for many years, I hope it will not be too difficult for you to agree.

  Elizabeth hurriedly folded up the letter and left it as she had found it. The rest, what she could recall of it, simply spoke of his love for Georgiana and asked Darcy’s permission to propose marriage to her. There was a further paragraph containing a proposal for a trust to be set up, so the considerable income from her inheritance should be saved for her future use, but Elizabeth wanted to know nothing more. She ran back to her room and washed her burning cheeks with cool water. Jenny came in with her tea and informed her that Mr Darcy had sent a servant to Lambton, with an urgent packet for the mail, to go immediately to London.

  Elizabeth tried to appear unconcerned, “It was probably a business matter for Mr Gardiner,” she said, knowing full well it was Darcy’s response to Dr Grantley.

  She did not know how she would get through the day; Georgiana was due home the following evening. Poor Elizabeth, she had never meant to deceive him, yet there was no reasonable way to tell her husband what she had done and avoid his censure. How could she compromise the trust they shared? What possible excuse could she offer and be forgiven? Feeling wretched and unhappy, she feigned a headache and retired to her room, drawing the blinds and urging her maid to make her excuses. She had no appetite for breakfast. She was sure Mrs Reynolds and Darcy would put the appropriate construction upon it, recalling she was weary from the long journey home. Before she went to bed, she bathed her face again and prayed that Darcy would be late returning from his ride around the grounds.

  Some hours later, she awoke to find him sitting beside her, worried that she had been taken ill and anxious to know if he should send for the doctor. Elizabeth immediately sat up and feeling a little unsteady, was glad of his arm to help her out of bed. Having reassured himself that she was not in need of a doctor, he sent for Jenny. On coming downstairs later, Elizabeth found her husband waiting for her in the morning room. She suggested in a bright but not very convincing voice that she should ask for some tea, and though Darcy did not demur, it was quite clear that he was preoccupied.

  After tea, he took her arm and led her out into the gentle Autumn sunlight on the terrace and closed the doors leading from the house. There, to her amazement, he apologised to her. He told her he was sorry he had been rather short with her the day before; he had not intended to hurt her feelings or refuse to answer her questions; he had been protecting the confidences of another. Today, he had taken action that enabled him to be more forthcoming.

  Elizabeth was by now even more confused. With the dubious advantage of having read Dr Grantley’s letter, she had no idea how it was now possible for him to talk about it to her, without breaking a confidence. Worse still, she could not reveal her own knowledge without totally losing his trust. While all these wretched thoughts whirled through her mind, Darcy took out two heavily folded letters—one she recognised as Dr Grantley’s, and the other was in his own hand and on his personal notepaper. He passed them to her in the order in which they were to be read. Sitting down, Elizabeth read again, slowly and carefully this time, the letter she had raced through that morning. Then, without saying a word, she reached out for the other and read it through. It was obviously a copy of the letter he had sent to London; in it, Darcy not merely gave his friend his blessing but came as close as he possibly could to giving him hope of success. Darcy reassured Dr Grantley of his good opinion, his love, and his best wishes for the fulfilment of his friend’s dearest wish.

  He added:

  Based upon every indication I have had and keeping in mind that young ladies cannot always be expected to tell their older brothers everything, I feel I am able, Francis, to assure you that Georgiana has the very highest regard for you. Her most recent letter to Elizabeth, after your meeting in London, contains a degree of affection and esteem she has never before expressed for anyone. I am convinced she loves you, though whether she knows how well or how deeply, I cannot speculate. That, I am sure, you will discover soon enough. Elizabeth and I will look forward to seeing both of you on Sunday at Pemberley, with, I hope and trust, some good tidings. Since writing this, I will have shown Elizabeth your letter and my reply. I have not spoken of it to her or any one else until now, but I know you above all others will understand the need for me to tell my wife, for there are no secrets between us. I know she shares my good opinion of you and will wish you success. God bless you both until we meet,

  Yours etc,

  Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  When Elizabeth had finished reading, she handed Darcy both letters. He had expected her to be full of questions, but she turned very quietly and embraced him, letting him hold her as tears filled her eyes. Conveniently, Darcy attributed her emotional response to the state of her health as well as her affection and love for Georgiana. “You do approve then?” he asked, a little uncertainty in his voice.

  “Of course I do,” she cried, smiling for the very first time that morning. “I have been so anxious for her, seeing her falling in love with him, not knowing how he felt nor how you would respond, unable to say a word to protect her from disappointment if things had not turned out right. Yet I knew that he would surely speak to you first, and when you said nothing to me, I was afraid it would all come to nothing. My anxiety was for dear Georgiana, I was not prying or wanting to gossip.” Darcy hushed her at once, “Of course not; I never thought for a moment that you were. Yet, as you could see from his letter, Francis had begged me not to speak of his love to anyone, lest it all came to nothing in the end. He had the same concerns. But as you can also see, as soon as I was able, I wrote to him and told him that you had to know—I could not keep it from you, my dearest Elizabeth. You do understand, do you not?” She smiled, accepting everything; glad that her small sum of guilt could now be repaid tenfold with love and trust.

  On the following day, preparations were afoot for the return of Georgiana. Her favourite rooms were opened up and aired, and all was in readiness. When the carriage turned into the drive, Elizabeth, watching from an upstairs window, smiled and turned to her husband, “It is settled for certain, they are both here.” Darcy agreed that it was unlikely that they would have undertaken the journey from London together, had Dr Grantley been refused. When they alighted and he helped her out, the expression of sweet contentment on her face told the story. Mrs Annesley was no s
ooner out of the carriage than she whispered in Mrs Reynold’s ear, “They are engaged,” which caused such a joyous reaction as to bring tears to her eyes. She was seeing her little girl grown up, and it was too much for the usually dignified Mrs Reynolds.

  Georgiana embraced her brother and thanked him before turning to Elizabeth and hugging her close. “I shall tell you everything, Lizzie,” she promised. For the moment, there was enough happiness around to warm all their hearts.

  After dinner, while Georgiana and Dr Grantley repaired to the music room, Darcy explained to Elizabeth what arrangements were proposed to be put in place for Georgiana. Dr Grantley had been ignorant of the extent of her private fortune until very recently. This had given him pause, not wishing to be thought some kind of fortune hunter—but having consulted his lawyers, he had suggested to Darcy that a trust be set up to protect her inheritance and preserve its income, for the sole use of herself and any children they may have. Having a good income of his own, he believed Georgiana’s interests would be best served by retaining her current guardians—Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam—as trustees.

  Darcy, though not for a moment would he have questioned the motives of his dearest friend, was delighted, because it would clearly mark him as a man apart from the fortune hunters, against whom he had always been vigilant on his sister’s behalf. “Have you no reservations about the difference in their ages?” asked his wife. It was a matter she had been anxious to discuss, but Darcy showed no such concern, saying only that he felt Georgiana needed the strength and security of a man she could trust and depend upon, knowing his declared love was a mature and genuine emotion.