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Letters from
Longbourn
The day broke over
the forests and glens of Pemberley to witness its owner striding
across a field. Fitzwilliam Darcy was agitated - rest was impossible
- and needed to conquer his highly emotional state. All his life
Darcy had hid his innermost feelings from a cold and uncaring
world, a world that looked upon him and saw only a bank-book,
not a man. Was there one woman in England who would see him for
who he was, and not what he was? Just when he thought
he might have to broaden his search to Scotland, he had found
her in Herefordshire - and lost her in Kent.
But now he had a
second chance. Darcy had taken Miss Elizabeth's criticisms to
heart; he had made amends. He had tried to repair things between
Miss Bennet and Bingley. And now she was here. What good
fortune! Darcy vowed to do everything in his power to show proofs
of his improvements.
Yet, what could
he expect? She had rejected him utterly. Was there any hope for
him now? She did not seem unhappy to meet him again, after the
initial shock. And the way she and Georgiana got on was all and
more than he had dreamed. The look they had shared the day before…
Dare he hope again? He wrestled with the temptation to ride to
Lambton immediately and propose a second time.
Darcy sat on an
old wooden footbridge over a small stream and berated himself.
No, he could not so inflict himself on her until he was more
certain of her feelings. It was his inability to truly gage her
thoughts that led to the fiasco at Hunsford. What pride and arrogance!
He blushed at the memory.
He looked about
his grand estate. Here I am home; here I can be myself. Father
would be embarrassed to see what I have become - prideful and
aloof. But school and Town were so different. The demands upon
me - the lack of principles, of morals. Oh, Father, I wish I
had been better prepared.
He shook his head.
Look at me. I, who claim to abhor disguise of any sort, have
been wearing a mask for years! Outside of Pemberley, only my
family and a few choice friends know who I really am. And not
all of my family; I have been standoffish with Aunt Catherine
for ages.
He looked over at
the pond he had suggested for today's picnic. Yes, Bingley had
a grand idea. There Miss Elizabeth will see the real Fitzwilliam
Darcy. This will be the best picnic ever held in Derbyshire!
A creaking of the
boards drew his attention. Hmmm…must have this bridge
repaired. I will have a word with the steward tomorrow about
it. Darcy stood and returned to the house for breakfast.
~~~~}+{~~~~
"Oh!"
Elizabeth cried as she sat up in bed.
"Lizzy, what
is it?" asked her sister, who shared her bed.
Elizabeth looked
about the room, reassuring herself that she was in Lambton. "A…a
passing dream, Jane; nothing more."
"It must have
been a mighty dream to awaken you in such a manner." Jane
sat up. "Come; share this vision with me."
Elizabeth blushed.
How can I tell her of my dream? "Jane, do not ask
me to, I beg you."
"You have always
shared your dreams with me before. Come, it will settle you.
Now, was it a nightmare?"
In her mortification,
Elizabeth was able to assure her that she did not have a nightmare.
"Well, that
is well. But you know that nightmares never come true. Your dream
was a pleasant one?"
Oh Lord! "It was not unpleasant."
"Good. That
is often a harbinger of the future."
That's what I
was afraid of.
"So, what was
the dream about?"
"Jane, it was
a silly nothing. I can hardly remember it. What is the o'clock?"
Jane was distracted
by the question. "I do not know, but I smell food from downstairs."
"Then let us
prepare for breakfast." With that Elizabeth threw off the
covers and went into the dressing room to begin her toilette.
She was glad of the escape; for how could she tell her most innocent
sister of her dream: Elizabeth, in a bedroom at Pemberley, being
very agreeably ravaged by Mr. Darcy?
~~~~}+{~~~~
"I do not understand
what the fuss is all about!"
"Caroline,
for the last time, I must ask you to be civil!"
"Charles, please,
I mean nothing about sweet Jane, I assure you - but a picnic?
How…common!"
Darcy strode into
the breakfast room, adjusting his cravat. "What is 'common',
Miss Bingley?"
Caroline looked
up at Darcy and saw nothing that comforted her. His outburst
from the evening before still rang in her ears: "for
it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest
women of my acquaintance." She had hoped it was hyperbole,
but as she took in his dress with a practiced eye she realized
that he meant every word he said. Mr. Darcy, always factitious
in his dress, had put in extra care today. In a fine green coat
with bluff trousers, he cut an imposing figure. She knew in her
heart that he had not dressed for Miss Bingley, but for Miss
Bennet. Curses upon that name! Caroline Bingley's slim
hopes were fading fast. Only a miracle could save her now. Might
it rain?
"How is the
weather today, brother?" asked Georgiana, coving up the
unfortunate silence.
"A fine sunny
day, Georgiana. Perfect for a picnic." This last bit to
Miss Bingley.
I believe I will
be ill now… thought
Caroline.
~~~~}+{~~~~
It was generally
assumed that Jane Bennet was possessed of the most pacific temperament
in the world; and it could be safely said that most people were
correct on that score. At least given the evidence the lady in
question chose to present to humanity. In actuality, Jane was
as prone to fits of agitation as the next female. She simply
kept her more passionate emotions to herself.
Jane placid demeanor
was in grave danger of cracking this day as she dressed for what
she expected to be a momentous picnic at Pemerbley. For it was
obvious to her that Charles Bingley still held some admiration
for her. This fact would have been pleasing to most unmarried
ladies. Mr. Bingley was handsome, kind, deferential, amusing,
thoughtful, and was in possession of five thousand a year. Jane
was not immune to Mr. Bingley's charms, and her mother would
never let her forget his fortune.
Last spring, Jane
had made the choice of rejecting Mr. Bingley's suit, using the
strongest words Jane had ever used in her life. Such words must
destroy any tender feelings that had existed. She could only
account for his present kindness as part and parcel of the gentleman's
character. It could not be that Mr. Bingley felt anymore for
her than he felt for her sister, Elizabeth. To wish for, expect
any more, would be ridiculous; impossible.
Jane sighed. It
was obvious to her that Elizabeth was coming to an acceptance
of Mr. Darcy's most marked regard. Should she desire it, she
could be mistress of Pemberley before Christmas. Elizabeth, who
never went looking for her heart's desire, would soon achieve
it: a marriage of love to a handsome, clever and intelligent
man. His improved manners were due to Elizabeth's reproofs, she
was sure, and what could show true regard more than that? The
man was violently in love with her.
And Mr. Bingley?
He said he had begun improvements to his estate at Netherfield.
She had no reason to doubt him. But had he truly changed? Was
it only his idea? Or did his friend advise him to see to his
farms? She did not know and could not ask.
Not that it meant
a hill of beans. Jane had killed any love Charles Bingley might
have had for her. She must have - no regard could withstand her
most hateful words. It was a shame, really.
For Jane was still
in love with him.
~~~~}+{~~~~
Charles Bingley
was nervous as he checked his pocket watch for the third time
this hour. He was to see his sweet Jane again, and he did not
want to ruin it.
He glanced at the
newspaper in front of him, but it could not hold his attention.
Hurst was reading the racing results with great interest. Darcy
was reviewing his correspondence. Georgiana had persuaded Caroline
and Louisa to help with the preparations for the picnic. Charles
was not fooled by his sisters' compliance - but as he had made
it clear from the evening before, he would brook no foolishness
from either of them.
He looked at his
great friend. Yes, he had forgiven him his interference, but
he had not forgotten it. What was more devastating was Jane's
refusal: One cannot live on love. He had to credit the
lady's insight; it was his duty to provide for his family, and
he had done a poor job of it. It was time to be a man, and by
Heaven, Charles Bingley would be his own master!
He just hoped he
was doing it right.
He longed to ask
for Darcy's advice. Even Hurst had to admit that Pemberley was
the best managed estate they had ever visited. There might be
a better place than Pemberley, but they never heard of it. However,
Charles could not ask. He had to learn it the hard way; make
mistakes; take chances.
At least the steward
seemed to know what he was doing. The fields were in far better
shape than Charles had hoped. New tenants were already applying
for land. Netherfield wasn't much, but they would get the most
out of it. Should they prove successful, Bingley might consider
a larger place in the future.
No, Charles Bingley's
luck was changing. How fortunate that just as he was looking
for a new steward, the very man knocked at his door in London!
This was a sign! He would be the man he was supposed to be! He
would earn Miss Bennet's regard - he would!
It was not known
if Bingley's confidence would have survived had he known that
his new steward came to his door by way of Pemberley and Matlock.
The sound of Darcy
placing down his quill stirred Bingley out of his ruminations.
"Are you done there, Darcy?"
"Yes; let me
seal this letter and I am at your disposal."
Within a quarter-hour
the two gentlemen were on their way to the stable, and thence
to Lambton.
~~~~}+{~~~~
The Bennet girls
were nervously preparing for the picnic planned by Miss Darcy.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner looked upon them with open affection and
amusement.
"Wife, I believe
we are in the way."
"I must agree
with you, Mr. Gardiner. What is your advice?"
"Perhaps we
may step over to the church down the street. Did you not wish
to speak to the rector?"
Mrs. Gardiner nodded.
"Indeed I did - I wished to look up some old family records.
Girls, we shall be back within the hour. We will be in good time
for your outing, never fear." With that the pair took their
leave of their nieces.
They had just completed
their preparations as two letters came in; they were both from
Longbourn. One had been addressed poorly and had only arrived
at it true destination in concert with the second. The one mis-sent
must be first attended to; it had been written five days ago.
Jane partook to read aloud as Elizabeth attended. The beginning
contained an account of all their little parties and engagements,
with such news as the country afforded; but the latter half,
which was dated a day later, and written in evident agitation,
gave more important intelligence. It was to this effect:
Since writing
the above, dearest sisters, something has occurred of a most
unexpected nature; but I am afraid of alarming you - be assured
that we are all well. What I have to say relates to Lydia. An
express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to
bed, from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was gone off
to Scotland with one of his officers; to own the truth, with
Wickham! I must own to it that I am not very much surprised -
Lydia has written to me of her affection for that gentleman.
Yet I am very, very sorry; so imprudent an action on both sides!
Why not gain my father's consent? But I am willing to hope the
best. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe them, but
this step (and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart.
In fact it is rather romantic! Our poor mother is sadly grieved.
My father bears it better. They were off Saturday night about
twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed 'till yesterday
morning at eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear
sisters, they must have passed within ten miles of us. Colonel
Forster gives us reason to expect him here soon. Lydia left a
few lines for his wife, informing her of their intention. I must
conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid
you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know what I
have written.
Without allowing
herself or Elizabeth time for consideration, and scarcely knowing
what she felt, Jane, on finishing this letter, instantly seized
the other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as
follows - it had been written a day later than the conclusion
of the first:
Dearest sisters,
I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you,
and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as an elopement between Mr.
Wickham and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be
assured it has taken place, for there is but too much reason
to fear they are not gone to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday,
having left Brighton the day before, not many hours after the
express. Though Lydia's short letter to Mrs. F. gave them to
understand that they were going to Gretna Green, something was
dropped by Denny expressing his belief that W. never intended
to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which was repeated to
Colonel F., who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from B.
intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham,
but no farther; for on entering that place they removed into
a hackney-coach and dismissed the chaise that brought them from
Epsom. All that is known after this is that they were seen to
continue the London road. I know not what to think - I thought
W. as the most agreeable gentleman! After making every possible
enquiry on that side London, Colonel F. came on into Hertfordshire,
anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns
in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success; no such people
had been seen to pass through. With the kindest concern he came
on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner
most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him
and Mrs. F., but no one can throw any blame on them.
Our distress,
my dear sisters, is very great. My father and mother believe
the worst, but I cannot think so ill of him. Many circumstances
might make it more eligible for them to be married privately
in town than to pursue their first plan; and even if he could
form such a design against a young woman of Lydia's connections,
which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to everything?
- Impossible. I grieve to find, however, that Colonel F. is not
disposed to depend upon their marriage; he shook his head when
I expressed my hopes, and said he feared W. was not a man to
be trusted. My poor mother is really ill and keeps her room.
Could she exert herself it would be better, but this is not to
be expected; and as to my father, I never in my life saw him
so affected. He is angry with me for having concealed their attachment;
but it was a matter of confidence - what choice did I have? I
am truly glad, Jane and Lizzy, that you have been spared something
of these distressing scenes; but now, as the first shock is over,
shall I own that I long for your return? Adieu.
I take up my
pen again to do what I have just told you I would not, but circumstances
are such, that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to come
here as soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so well
that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something
more to ask of the former. My father is going to London with
Colonel Forster instantly, to try to discover her. What he means
to do, I am sure I know not; but his excessive distress will
not allow him to pursue any measure in the best and safest way,
and Colonel Forster is obliged to be at Brighton again tomorrow
evening. I think my uncle's advice and assistance would be everything
in the world; he will immediately comprehend what I must feel,
and I rely upon his goodness.
"Oh! where,
where is my uncle?" cried Elizabeth, darting from her seat
as Jane finished the letter, in eagerness to find him without
losing a moment of the time so precious. As she reached the door,
Jane close on her heels, it was opened by a servant, and Mr.
Darcy and Mr. Bingley appeared, early for their appointment.
Her pale face and impetuous manner made the gentlemen start,
and before either could recover himself enough to speak, she,
in whose mind every idea was superseded by Lydia's situation,
hastily exclaimed, "I beg your pardon, but I must leave
you! I must find Mr. Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot
be delayed; I have not a moment to lose!"
"Good God!
What is the matter?'' cried Darcy, with more feeling than politeness.
Bingley stepped
forward. "We will not detain you a minute, but let me, or
Darcy, or let the servant go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner! You
are not well enough - you cannot go yourself - or you, Miss Bennet.''
Elizabeth hesitated,
but her knees trembled under her, and she felt how little would
be gained by her attempting to pursue them. Calling back the
servant, therefore, she commissioned him, though in so breathless
an accent as made her almost unintelligible, to fetch his master
and mistress home instantly.
On the servant quitting
the room, Elizabeth sat down, unable to support herself, and
looking so miserably ill that it was impossible for Darcy to
leave her, or to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness
and commiseration, "Let me call your maid. Is there nothing
you could take, to give you present relief? A glass of wine;
- shall I get you one? You are very ill.''
"No, I thank
you;'' she replied, endeavoring to recover herself. "There
is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well. I am only distressed
by some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn.''
She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes
could not speak another word. Darcy, in wretched suspense, could
only say something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her
in compassionate silence.
Jane too was overcome
with emotion, but it was she who recovered first, and spoke while
a troubled Bingley attempted to comfort her. "We have just
had a letter from Kitty, with such dreadful news. It cannot be
concealed from anyone. My youngest sister has left all her friends
- has eloped - has thrown herself into the power of…of Mr.
Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton."
Elizabeth cried,
"You know him too well to doubt the rest! She has no money,
no connections, nothing that can tempt him to - she is lost forever.''
Bingley was in open-mouthed amazement; Darcy was fixed in astonishment.
"When I consider," she added, in a yet more agitated
voice, "that I might have prevented it! I who knew what
he was! Had I but explained some part of it only - some part
of what I learnt - to my own family! Had his character been known,
this could not have happened! But it is all…all too late
now…"
"I am grieved,
indeed," cried Darcy, a knife stabbing into his heart; "grieved
- shocked. But is it certain, absolutely certain?" Damn
that Wickham!
"Oh yes! They
left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced almost
to London, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to Scotland."
"And what has
been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?" asked
Bingley.
Jane looked up.
"My father is gone to London; and Kitty has written to beg
my uncle's immediate assistance. We shall be off, I hope, in
half an hour."
Elizabeth shook
her head. "But nothing can be done; I know very well that
nothing can be done! How is such a man to be worked on? How are
they even to be discovered?" Her voice started to crack.
"I…I have not the smallest h…hope. It is every
way h…horrible!" Darcy shook his head in silent acquiescence.
"When my eyes were opened to his real character. Oh! had
I known what I ought, what I dared, to do! But I knew not - I
was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched, mistake!"
"Elizabeth!"
cried Jane. "It is not your fault alone! I too should have
revealed him to our family and acquaintances. It is my fault
as much as anyone else's! But I…I never thought someone
could be so…bad…" She broke down and left Bingley's
side to move to her sister, and Elizabeth, with tears in her
own eyes, tried to console her.
Darcy made no answer.
He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was walking up and down the
room in earnest meditation; his brow contracted; his air gloomy.
Elizabeth soon observed
and instantly understood it. Her power was sinking; every thing
must sink under such a proof of family weakness, such an assurance
of the deepest disgrace. She should neither wonder nor condemn,
but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing consolatory
to her bosom, afforded no palliation of her distress. It was,
on the contrary, exactly calculated to make her understand her
own wishes; and never had she so honestly felt that she could
have loved him, as now, when all love must be vain. Her heart
was breaking into a million pieces.
"Damn and blast!"
shouted Bingley, startling the room. "I will not have it!
Miss Bennet; Miss Elizabeth - do not fret! Come Darcy - we shall
set this to rights!" With that he dashed out of the room.
Jane stood up in shock. Darcy looked after his friend, grimaced
and turned to the ladies.
"Please excuse
my friend's outburst. I am afraid you have long desired our absence;
we have nothing to plead in excuse of our stay, but real, though
unavailing, concern. Would to heaven that any thing could be
either said on my part that might offer consolation to such distress!
But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely
to ask for your thanks, Miss Elizabeth; or yours, Miss Bennet.
This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister's having
the pleasure of picnicking with you at Pemberley today.''
"Oh, yes,"
replied Jane. "Be so kind as to apologize for us to Miss
Darcy. Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal
the unhappy truth as long as it is possible. I know it cannot
be long.''
He readily assured
them both of his secrecy - again expressed his sorrow for her
distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present
reason to hope, and, leaving his compliments for her relations,
with only one serious, earnest, look to Elizabeth, turned to
go away.
Jane cried out after
him, "Mr. Darcy!" He turned. "You are going after
them, are you not? After Mr. Wickham and my sister?"
Darcy struggled
with his voice, but he could not deceive her. "Yes…yes,
I am."
Elizabeth was shocked.
"No! This is impossible! You would so debase yourself…you
would deal with that…person? After what he has done to you
and yours? You cannot!" As if an invisible sting pulled
her, she moved to him.
Darcy turned to
her. "This is my fault, Miss Elizabeth. Had not my
abominable pride held my tongue, I should have let the world
know of Wickham's true character. In my arrogance I considered
my family's comfort superior to the well being of my neighbors,
no matter how many yeomen's daughters were ruined. And now another
innocent has fallen to the charms of that reprobate! I must make
amends."
"This is not
your doing, sir!"
"I think it
is. I must try to help your sister."
She looked at him
in amazement, tears still running down her lovely face. "You
will do this thing - this wonderful thing - for my family? After
what I said to you in Kent?"
Darcy's face twisted
in pain. "What did you say that I did not deserve? 'If
I had behaved in a more gentleman-like manner'; you cannot
know how those words are burned into me. I have tried to learn
from my mistakes, to do better, to be the man my parents taught
me to be. You have properly humbled me, Miss Elizabeth. This
incident proves that I have failed in my responsibility to my
fellow man.
"I…I would
not give you false hopes…but I - Bingley and I - will do
what we can. Please do not distress yourself. While my heart
hurts for you and your family, which I respect so much, there
is nothing untoward in my intended actions. I seek no reward
or see to make you feel in any way indebted to me. I look for
nothing for myself. I do this because duty demands this of me."
A tear-stained Elizabeth
looked Darcy in the eyes. "Find them, and I am yours."
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