Dear Mr. Darcy: A Retelling of Pride and Prejudice Page 2
We are all so proud of you and the way you are bearing your bereavement. Your father would be very proud of you, too. It gives you some comfort, I hope, to know that your family are all thinking of you.
Your loving aunt,
Adelaide
Mr Darcy to Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam
Pemberley, Derbyshire, June 4
You will never know what a help your letter has been to me. To know that Georgiana is safely with her cousins and looking forward to choosing a new puppy helps me to bear what has to be borne.
The funeral is now over, thank God. Henry and Philip were with me and were a great support to me, walking one on either side of me as we set out on our melancholy journey behind the coffin.
As we set off down the drive I thought of nothing but my father: the day he set me on my first pony; the day he taught me to fish; the look of pride on his face when I started school; the advice he gave me when I came of age; and the last sad but treasured memory of him taking my hand and giving me his blessing as he died.
As we left the grounds and turned onto the road, I was comforted by the sight which met my eyes, for the road was lined with people, their heads bowed and hats removed, all gathered to pay their last respects. They fell in quietly behind us as we passed, and, as we walked, more and more people joined the procession—all silent, but giving me strength by their presence and by the obvious love they had felt for Papa.
By the time we reached the church, the procession stretched back as far as the eye could see. The church was soon full, and those who could not find room inside waited peacefully outside. I heard their voices murmuring the responses, coming through the open door with quiet feeling. Mr Light gave an inspiring sermon and my father was finally laid to rest with all the dignity of his position, and all the love of his family, and all the regard of his fellow men. And as the earth fell on the coffin, I said good-bye.
We turned away, and as we did so, I felt an unexpected lightening of my gloom. For the first time I felt that I could bear the loss and that I could take my father’s place as the master of Pemberley.
In some way I feel his spirit is still with me. I have his words to guide me, and the letter he left me to sustain me, and I know that I am fortunate to have them, and that I was fortunate to have him as my father.
By the time we returned to Pemberley, Mrs Reynolds had prepared a hot meal for all the mourners. Our neighbours gave me their condolences and remembered the many happy times they had had with my father, whilst the kitchens and stables overflowed with everyone from the neighbouring villages who had followed my father to his last resting place, and who each had a tale to tell of his kindness and generosity.
And now it is over and life must go on. Henry is to return to his regiment but Philip has agreed to stay with me until the end of the month and help me with all the affairs that need to be set in order. And when I have seen to the most pressing business, I will be ready to bring Georgiana back to Pemberley.
Your affectionate nephew,
Fitzwilliam
Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy
Fitzwater Park, Cumbria,
June 20
My dear Fitzwilliam,
We have been thinking of you constantly over the last few weeks and we were all glad to hear you speak so movingly of the funeral, and to learn of your own dignified part in the affair. It is never easy to lose a parent and it is even harder when you are only two and twenty. I am glad Philip is with you. Having lost his own father when he was young, he will be able to help you through this difficult time.
I am sure that Philip will be able to help you with all your matters of business, too, but should you need any further help with your affairs, your uncle has commanded me to say that you may call upon him at any time.
Georgiana’s spirits are much improved and she has lost her sad, pinched look. We took her to Ullswater a few days ago and had a picnic by the lake, which she must have enjoyed, because when Peter gave her a puppy—a beautiful golden bitch—she named it Ullswater. Her reason was that the puppy’s eyes were like liquid, which reminded her of the lake. But Sam the groom set her giggling by saying that it was a very good name, as the puppy was “ullus watering” something! She tried to stifle her giggles, of course, thinking them not very ladylike, especially at such a time, but we were all so happy to see her laughing that we did not mind in the least. She is blossoming in our fresh Cumbrian air, and—thank goodness!—our Cumbrian sunshine. Your uncle was remarking only the other day that Georgiana must have brought it with her, for we have never seen such a summer and our usual rain has been held at bay.
Your cousin Maud is taking Georgiana riding again tomorrow and if the weather continues fine, we are going on another picnic on Saturday.
Your loving aunt,
Adelaide
Mr Darcy to Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam
Darcy House, London, June 26
Ullswater! How I would love to see Georgiana laughing again; even hearing about it does me good! I must confess, though, that I am concerned about her future; not the next few weeks or even months, but the next few years. I cannot always be at Pemberley and I do not want her to be alone in such a great house. I am thinking of sending her to school, so that she will have constant company and other girls of her own age to mix with. Let me know what you think of the idea; I would value a woman’s opinion. Ullswater would have the run of the estate whilst she was away, with the other Pemberley dogs, and be there to welcome her on every return.
Please thank my uncle for his offer of assistance but I believe we have things well in hand. The only matter that troubled me was the matter of my father’s godson, George Wickham—I dare say you will remember him—because, in my father’s will, he spoke of me giving the living of Kympton to George when the present incumbent dies. This I would willingly do, were it not for the fact that George is not suited to the church. My father saw George’s charm and his ease of manner, because that is what George took care to show him, but George has a darker side and I have had ample opportunity to see it during our time at university together.
I have spoken to the family solicitors about the matter and they have reassured me that my father’s will only requested that George be given the living, rather than stipulating that it should be so. It has set my mind at rest on the subject, particularly since I now think more poorly of George than ever. I invited him to the funeral but I had no reply until this morning, when he claimed my letter had gone astray. Since his own letter was clearly a thinly veiled request for money, I told him that my father had left him the sum of one thousand pounds, and I arranged for the amount to be sent to him at once, but I cannot forgive him for not attending the funeral.
He thinks no more of his own father than he did of mine. Old Mr Wickham has been ill for some time and is not likely to live for more than a few months, and yet George never visits him, even though I have repeatedly asked him to. It will be a sad day for the Darcy family and a sad day for Pemberley when old Mr Wickham dies.
I will join you at Fitzwater Park as soon as I have finished with business in London, and then I must take Georgiana home to Pemberley. I cannot thank you enough for taking care of her, and for restoring her to health and happiness.
Your affectionate nephew,
Fitzwilliam
JULY
Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy
Fitzwater Park, Cumbria, July 3
School is a good idea; I will write to all my friends and find out which they think the best for her. She will not need to go at once, however, and we are hoping you will leave her here with us until the end of August at least. When you have finished with your business affairs, then why not spend a few weeks in Cumbria with us before taking Georgiana back to Pemberley?
You need not worry about her education in the meantime, for we are not neglecting it, I assure you. She is playing the pianoforte every day, she sings and dances with her cousins, she sketches and paints and sews, and when she is not
doing any of these things she is training Ullswater, who is eager to please and who follows her everywhere. It is charming to see the two of them together.
Your uncle and cousins send their best wishes, and I am
Your loving aunt,
Adelaide
AUGUST
Mr Darcy to Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam
Darcy House, London, August 1
Thank you for your list of schools; I mean to visit them all. I will be glad of the occupation, for it will help to banish the low moods that come over me from time to time as I think of my father and everything I have lost. But Philip has been a great help to me, and so have all my friends and acquaintances—the ladies in particular.
When they knew I was visiting schools in order to choose one for Georgiana, they all had something to say on the matter; indeed, they all expressed themselves ready and willing to help with Georgiana in any way they could. I never knew that such noble sentiments lurked beneath the surface of so many beauties, for it seems they are all longing to have a sister! If I were inclined to vanity I should think it was my fine person that attracted them, for I hear myself described so everywhere I go, but I suspect that if my fortune dwindled to ten pounds a year, instead of ten thousand a year, my figure would be held to be nothing out of the ordinary.
However, I have been thinking of matrimony, I must admit. I never intended to marry until I was thirty, but now that I am the last of my line I think I owe it to Pemberley not to wait so long, for I find myself worrying about what will happen if I were to die without a child.
The estate is not entailed and so I can leave it where I will, and I have left it to Georgiana. If anything happens to me, I know that she will be well provided for and that she will not have to leave her family home. But the estate would be a heavy burden to her, being so young, and would have to be left in the care of a steward. If Mr Wickham were healthy, then I would not be so concerned: he served my father well, and the estate would be safe in his hands. But his health is precarious and I fear he will not live much longer. Besides, when Georgiana marries she will take her husband’s name and the Darcy name in Derbyshire will die out. And so if I can find a suitable wife I believe I will wed.
I have been looking about me but no one satisfies me. My aunt Lady Catherine has often said that she and my mother betrothed Anne and myself when we were in our cradles, but that is a long time ago and I am persuaded that Anne likes the idea no more than I do. I cannot believe that Lady Catherine is serious in expecting us to carry out the wishes of our mothers, which were formed when we were no more than a few months old.
My father gave a lot of thought to the matter of my marriage and wrote about it at length in his final letter to me, and I owe it to myself, as well as to Pemberley, to take his words to heart. My wife will not only have to be my companion for life, she will also have to be the mistress of Pemberley and a sister to Georgiana, and I have found no one worthy of any of those roles.
Philip understands. As the head of his household he has similar duties, although even he is not in such a precarious situation. He has brothers who are only a few years younger than himself to inherit if he should die without a son, and they would be fully able to run the estate, whereas I do not have such a luxury.
Perhaps you can introduce me to some young ladies in Cumbria. I am sure you must know someone you think might suit me and I hope to join you there next week. Henry intends to travel with me. Now that Spain has made peace with France, he has a brief period of leave. I hope it is not a signal that the coalition is going to collapse. I do not want to see Europe ravaged by more wars, but I fear it is inevitable. We expect to be with you by Wednesday. I am looking forward to seeing you all again, particularly Georgiana. I have missed her.
I am enclosing a note for Georgiana with this letter.
Your affectionate nephew,
Fitzwilliam
Mr Darcy to Georgiana Darcy
Darcy House, London, August 1
Dearest Georgiana,
I will be joining you in Cumbria next week and I will be staying with you for the summer and then bringing you home with me. Your bedroom has been newly decorated with a blue paper and there is a basket for Ullswater, though I hope you have trained her not to water everything! I have missed you and I am looking forward to seeing you again.
Your affectionate brother,
Fitzwilliam
Colonel Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy
Fitzwilliam House, London,
August 5
A note in haste. I am sending this by hand as I will not be able to travel to Cumbria with you after all. I have been called back to my regiment and by the time you receive this I will already be on the Continent. I will not conceal from you that things look bleak. There are rumours that more countries are set to make peace with France, and if that happens, I believe that only England will have the stomach, and the purse, for further opposition. Give my love to my family and tell Georgiana that I am looking forward to seeing her when I return to England.
By the way, I saw your friend George Wickham this morning. He was rolling out of a tavern at ten o’clock, drunk. He presented a sorry spectacle, lurching from one side of the road to the other. He is young yet, and there is a chance he will mend his ways before he is very much older, but it is lucky your father left it to you to decide if George should hold the living, for otherwise he would bring the church, the neighbourhood and the living—as well as himself—into disrepute.
Your cousin,
Henry
SEPTEMBER
Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam
Darcy House, London,
September 25
I am sending this letter in care of your regiment and I hope it finds you, wherever you might be. I am beginning to wonder whether we will ever see peace on the Continent again. I thank God we are protected by the English Channel and that our navy keeps us safe, although I hear that the government are intending to repair and strengthen our coastal defences as a precaution against invasion.
Georgiana is now at school, where she is happily established. She was sorry not to see you and is looking forward to your next meeting. She will be much grown by the time you return. She has lost the sad, pinched look she had when Papa passed away, largely thanks to your mother. I am exceedingly grateful for it. I thought at one time that she would never recover, but all things pass and she is happy again.
I am not surprised by what you tell me of George Wickham. I have seen him several times in London myself. On the first occasion he tried to speak to me, but as he was under the impression there were three of me, he did not know which one to address and so he contented himself with falling over instead. On the last occasion, he was too busy with his women to notice me. Unless he changes, I doubt if he will even want the living. He has not shown any interest in the church, and I do not think he has any intention of becoming ordained.
You will be welcome at Pemberley when you return. Send a letter to announce your arrival if there is time or, if not, come anyway.
Your cousin,
Darcy
NOVEMBER
Mr Wickham to Mr Darcy
The Red Lion Inn, London,
November 6
My dear Darcy,
I owe you a letter! It must be nearly six months since I received your last. I neglected to thank you for the one thousand pounds, for which I must apologise. I would have done so when I saw you in London, but you did not see me and I could not get away from my friends, so I am repairing the omission now. I must thank you, too, for paying for my father’s funeral expenses and settling the small debts I had at the time. I hear you have appointed a new estate manager. I only hope he may be half the man my father was, God rest his soul.
I have been giving some thought to my future and I have decided not to go into the church, and so I have decided to relinquish all claim to the living your father so generously promised me. I hope you will now be able to bestow it elsewhere.
You will not
think it unreasonable of me to ask for some kind of pecuniary advantage instead of the living. I mean to go into the law, and as you are aware, the interest on one thousand pounds—the sum your father generously left me—does not go very far. Your honoured father, I am sure, would have wanted me to have something in lieu of the living, and a further sum of money would be useful to me. Three thousand pounds should pay for my studies.
Your very great friend,
George
Mr Darcy to Mr Wickham
Pemberley, Derbyshire,
November 8
I am very pleased you have decided not to go into the church. I am also pleased you have decided to study for the law. I will send you three thousand pounds as soon as you resign all claims to the living.
Yours,
Darcy
Mr Wickham to Mr Darcy
The Red Lion Inn, London,
November 17
Thank you for the three thousand pounds in return for my forfeit of the living. You may be certain I will put it to good use. I will make your revered father proud of me.
Your very great friend,
George
MAY
Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Gardiner
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
May 6
Dear Aunt,
I am writing to thank you for the bonnet you sent me for my birthday, which I think is adorable and which is the envy of my friends. I have already worn it, you will be pleased to know. It adorned my head this morning on a walk into Meryton, where it was much admired. How lucky I am to have an aunt who lives in the capital and who can send me the latest styles! Thank you again for such a welcome gift.
I am being very much spoilt and I am having an enjoyable day. Jane has given me a new fan, which she painted herself, and Mary copied an extract from Fordyce’s Sermons in her best handwriting and then framed it. She presented it to me ‘with the hope that it would guide me through the Torrents and Turmoils of a Woman’s Life’; Kitty gave me a handkerchief, and Lydia said that she would have given me a new pair of dancing slippers, but she had already spent her allowance. I had a new pair of boots from Papa, for my others were worn through. Mama gave me a new gown, in the hope it would help me to catch a husband, and said, sighing, ‘Eighteen years old and still unwed! It is a sad day, Lizzy, a very sad day indeed.’