Section I, Next Section
Prologue
Posted on Sunday, 16 May 2004
Lady Catherine gripped the arm of her chair and glared at Mr Collins. “Are you saying my nephew, my very own nephew, Mr Darcy, is engaged to Miss Bennet?”
Mr Collins shifted uncomfortably. “No, Miss Bennet is marrying Mr Bingley, a most respectable young gentleman. It is actually my cousin…”
“Yes, yes. I was asking after Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Of course! Miss Elizabeth Bennet. As I was about to say,” Mr Collins gaily went on, “my cousin Elizabeth is (or soon will be) engaged to your noble nephew. You prefer knowing the lady your nephew will marry.”
“Are you absolutely certain? There must be some kind of mistake.”
“Quite certain,” said Mr Collins, oblivious to Lady Catherine’s tone. “My mother says that he is gone to London on business and what business is more obliging than preparing for a marriage? My wife likes to believe that he is in love with her friend, and though I always contradict her, the Lucases insist it is true.”
Lady Catherine proceeded to tell Mr Collins exactly what she thought of the situation, the latter continuously changing colour (had anybody else been in the room they would surely have given him the name Chameleon Collins). “…but perhaps I am being too harsh on him. Perhaps he is finally being serious about his engagement to Anne and that is what took him to town. Excuse me, Mr Collins, I must go directly. I will have this report universally contradicted!”
Rosings Park, near Westerham, Kent
13th October
My dear nephew,Never was I so provoked in my life as by a letter this morning from you. It is insufferable! Guess my astonishment and vexation on reading the news – this from a dear nephew whom I thought would enter into all my feelings! Are you going to ignore the wishes of your mother and aunt? Now at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would be accomplished, in your marriage to Anne, to be prevented by a woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the family! “It taught me to hope,” you said. What is Fitzwilliam Darcy doing hoping for the affections of a woman when he already had the consent to marry one ten times her consequence? You must be sensible that as an only son and the representative of an ancient family, your conduct is most interesting to your connections. Well, whatever may be your fate, I have the comfort of knowing that I have done my utmost to save you.
Never has the noble line of Fitzwilliam been so disgraced. Have you not heard of her sister’s infamous elopement? I know it all – the marriage was a patched-up business, at the expense of her father and uncles. Furthermore I have heard Mr Collins say that the family received the young couple at Longbourn on their marriage. Is such a girl, with an obvious lack of honour and decorum (which your Elizabeth also seems to lack) to be your sister? And the son of your late father’s steward will be your brother? Our noble ancestors would be rolling in their graves. Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?
Here Darcy was glad that his aunt had never been informed of his sister’s lucky escape. How indignant would she be if she knew how close Wickham had been to becoming her nephew? Darcy was not pleased with his aunt’s letter, but he knew that he was better equipped to deal with such a letter than Georgiana. Such language would have only added to the miseries she would have faced in disappointing the brother she looked up to as a father and entering marriage with such a man. He wondered how long it would have taken for her to see Wickham’s extravagance and profligacy and realize he didn’t really love her. With this knowledge she should have had no confidence, no esteem. He could understand what Elizabeth had meant that morning in the inn (thinking about this, he had a little sympathy for his future father-in-law, especially since he knew others that through some unaccountable bias in favour of beauty found themselves the husbands of very silly women). Mr Darcy then tried to imagine what life would have been like without his sister. He did not think he could have borne a total separation from her and believed for her sake he would have had to have accepted Wickham being once more at Pemberley. At least now Wickham was now stationed in Newcastle, although Darcy had no idea how long he’d remain there.
I congratulate you on being about to receive into your family, the most accomplished coquette in England. She is poor, and may naturally seek an alliance which is advantageous to herself. You are blessed with everything the heart of mortal can most desire – splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive patronage. Her very words were “But the wife of Mr Darcy must have extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, on the whole, have no cause to repine.” It is my duty to oppose a match, which deep art only could render probable, and must in the end make wretched.I cannot help recalling her behaviour here last spring. I was at first inclined to think of her as a genteel, pretty kind of girl. But her impertinence! She is the only person who has dared to trifle with me! We found her in no way impressed with Rosings, nor in awe of our rank. Mr Collins must have been a simpleton to think her wit and vivacity would be pleasing to me (for it was not tempered by respect). You yourself witnessed the attention I payed while she was in Kent, in spite of this, but it did not seem to excite any gratitude.
It was not on your account I felt any uneasiness during your last visit, but for your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I rather suspect he had taken a fancy to Miss Bennet – you must have noticed with how much spirit and flow they conversed? It is more objectionable that she should marry the younger son of an earl, and yet I hope his pain is not so great that he is inconsolable. It would seem your Miss Bennet had no consideration for the feelings of others. Perhaps she even did this only to attract attention and cause jealousy?
When Mr Collins was first introduced to the Bennets, she must have been displaying an artificial modesty; otherwise I could not fathom the words of one who has so far been trustworthy. I had advised Mr Collins that a clergyman such as himself must marry. “Chuse properly, chuse a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a long way.” He resolved to chuse from his cousins, to make amends for his being to inherit Longbourn, which when he afterwards related his plan I agreed was very generous. Mr Collins is indifferent to fortune and would have made no demand of that nature on her father and assures me he promised Miss Elizabeth Bennet no reproach would pass his lips on that head. This match is good enough for her – Mr Collins’ hand is not unworthy and he was offering her a highly desirable establishment. His attribution of her refusal to wishing to increase his love through suspense (for she could not have missed that her friend was better qualified) seems reasonable to me and I am glad he saw through her ploy. If your current engagement had not been formed, she may never have received another offer of marriage, for her small portion must have undone any other amiable qualities she possesses. Apparently Mrs Bennet even called her daughter a very headstrong foolish girl. She is not of a disposition to do you credit in the world, and seems precisely in her proper place, at Longbourn with the Bennets.
“If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere, in which you have been brought up,” said I. Her reply was “In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting the sphere.” How insufferable that she has the presumption to aspire to this match! Who is her mother? I am sure she must be a vain, vulgar woman. Who are her uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition. One is an attorney in Meryton, and they have another in trade in London. I was extremely surprised to discover they keep a manservant. Although this must be proof they are seeking to raise themselves in the world.
Those Bennets are very artful people indeed. Miss Bennet seemed astonished when I told her she could be at no loss to understand the reason of my journey. She also denied knowledge of the report, which I know must have been industriously circulated by themselves. Mr Collins informs me they had been expecting the engagement of the eldest since November, for Mrs Bennet felt it incumbent on her to hint the possibility. Although Charles Bingley’s fortune is from trade, it is a most advantageous match for her. They are all for what they can get.
You have been unguarded in forming this hasty engagement; but you must not complete this imprudence by ratifying it, while there is much reason to fear the connection would be opposed by those friends on whom you depend. Return to your friends and all will be forgot.
Your affectionate aunt,
Catherine De Bourgh
Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly; his affection for her drew him oftener from home than any thing else could do. He delighted in going to Pemberley, especially when he was least expected.
Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time with her two elder sisters. In society so superior to what she had generally known, her improvement was great. She was not of so ungovernable a temper as Lydia; and, removed from the influence of Lydia's example, she became, by proper attention and management, less irritable, less ignorant, and less insipid. From the farther disadvantage of Lydia's society she was of course carefully kept, and though Mrs. Wickham frequently invited her to come and stay with her, with the promise of balls and young men, her father would never consent to her going.
Mary was the only daughter who remained at home; and she was necessarily drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet's being quite unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to mix more with the world, but she could still moralize over every morning visit; and as she was no longer mortified by comparisons between her sisters' beauty and her own, it was suspected by her father that she submitted to the change without much reluctance.
Netherfield, October 12.
My dearest Lizzy,Please pardon my excessive delay in replying to your last. My only excuse is that I have not had a spare waking moment alone since the birth of Helena. Oh, that my dear mother had more command over herself! She can have no idea of the fatigue she causes me by her continual presence. Her fretting over poor Lydia’s condition hardly helps the situation. My Aunt Phillips has also been kind enough to visit almost every day.
Now for some delightful news – Charles has heard of an estate in a neighbouring county, but thirty miles from you, my dear sister. Surely this will excuse the liberty we are going to assume in staying at Pemberley several weeks without an invitation while Charles looks it over? Of course I will be sorry to leave the rest of my dear family, but I fear being in such close proximity is not desirable even to the easy temper of my loving husband. Please do not mention it to mother until everything is settled. You understand do you not? Can you imagine the scene? At present she believes we are shewing our daughter to my absent sister. I have heard her wonder at there being no sign of a new generation of Darcys, so certainly you may expect her arrival soon after ours.
Charles joins with me in sending our love to Mr Darcy and yourself.
Your most obliged and affectionate sister,
Jane
She will have occasion for all those attractive powers for which she is celebrated, to gain any share of my regard; and I shall certainly endeavour to guard myself against their influence, if not accompanied by something more substantial.
Lady Catherine sighed as she finished the reply to her nephew’s letters. You, my reader, may feel it is miraculous that Lady Catherine and Mr Darcy could be reconciled within twelve months. I might otherwise agree with you, but here you are forgetting that he has Lizzy to encourage and support him. And her? Well there’s the affection for her nephew and niece (for she couldn’t have a rupture with one without the other being affected), but more importantly she has things to prove and lives to stick her nose into. The woods of Pemberley had been polluted indeed, and it was her duty to minimize the impact on her family. Having had months to become resigned (well, sort of), she now felt it time to advise the obviously incompetent bride (no one so capable as Anne).
Womble,What a woman she must be! I long to see her, and shall certainly accept your kind invitation, that I may form some idea of those bewitching powers that can do so much.
Yours &c,
P.S.
Chapter 1
Being no longer the only daughter in company, Mary took full advantage of the situation by amusing herself with a book.
“You prefer reading to society, Miss Bennet?” sneered Miss Bingley, who was the first to observe Mary’s behaviour. The title of the book (Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare) amused her greatly, as she considered it to be a children’s book. “I guess you are fond of Shakespeare?”
Here another person butted in. “Shakespeare? Who does not love a play? You will all come this evening, I hope? I am pleased that we have had the chance for theatricals whilst in the country. I have been twice unlucky to have an acting party broken up. We would have been wonderful performing Lover’s Vows, would we not my dear?”
His wife turned to him with horror. “Please don’t mention that play. It only makes me think of my poor sister and Henry Crawford.”
“It cannot have been a totally unpleasant time could it? After all, we eloped.”
“I must ask you not to mention that in front of my aunt,” was Darcy’s request, as he heard her marching along the corridor.
“Nephew, what is that I hear about an elopement?” called the sharp-eared Lady Catherine, who was unfortunately closer than Darcy realized. “You do not have your wife’s youngest sister with you do you?”
“No, Lady Catherine.”
“One should never invite those who have eloped into their homes. I am most attentive about these things. As an encouragement of vice it is extremely vexing!”
“Actually, Aunt Cathy, they’re with me.” The lilting voice was coming from the opposite end of the room, from a tall figure rising from a chair.
“Percival is that you? How many times have I told you to cease calling me by that childish name? Now come and greet your aunt, my sweet boy.”
It had always been a puzzle to Darcy why Percival, the youngest Fitzwilliam, was his aunt’s favourite. He certainly didn’t flatter her any more than the rest of them did. She had even complained to colonel Fitzwilliam, that eighteen months was not often enough for her to see her youngest nephew, although that feeling was tinged a little by disgust for the guests he’d brought with him the last time. Mrs Elton and Lady Catherine did not get along at all (Mrs Elton had compared Rosings to Maple Grove and things had gone downhill from there – the only thing that saved them from being at each other’s throats was the mention of Jane Fairfax, for then they were united in the purpose of getting her well placed out). Darcy suspected that it had something to do with the transference of her admiration for the Knight of the Round Table onto his ‘namesake’, or perhaps the fact he’d been sickly as a child, just like her dear Anne. If his aunt hadn’t been under the impression there was an engagement between her sister’s child and her own, Darcy was certain she would have promoted a match between Anne and Percival instead.
After Percival had done as his aunt instructed Lady Catherine said in an audible whisper, “but really, who are your guests? I would hope that you would not bring into your father’s house anybody he would be ashamed of.”
“Aunt, may I present Mr John Yates and his wife?”
“Oh! Mr Yates? Pray give your father my regards when you see him next. I recall he was the first gentleman I danced with during my first season in town. Your wife is a very genteel, pretty kind of girl. I have the greatest curiosity about her. What was her maiden name?”
“Bertram, ma’am. She is the youngest daughter of Sir Thomas Bertram.”
“I believe he may have been an acquaintance of Sir Lewis.” Turning to Elizabeth she said “now, Miss Bennet, if you would kindly show Anne and I to our rooms.”
The Darcys exchanged a glance as Lady Catherine swept from the room.
They were all waiting. When Elizabeth had told Lady Catherine of the engagement that evening with the Fitzwilliams, Lady Catherine insisted that she and Anne would make their own way there. Elizabeth had originally viewed this as a good idea, since there were too many in their party for just two carriages. Now they were all waiting, as the earl felt his sister would make a fuss if they started before she arrived. “She’s always been like this,” he simply said.
The Fitzwilliam family was a fine family. Edward Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Ilam1, was not what you’d expect from the impression Lady Catherine gave. He was an amiable gentleman, several years older than his sister. His wife had died a number of years earlier and now he lived for his children.
There were four sons – Henry, Richard (the colonel), William and Percival. Henry and the Colonel were in their early thirties and Percival only about twenty-one or twenty two. Only William was married, to the woman Miss Bingley was trying to claim as an acquaintance. His wife, Sophia, had been sent to the same seminary in town, although a year or two older. The earl also had one daughter. Lady Emma was Jane’s age, and extremely elegant, without any superciliousness.
Elizabeth had already met them several times before and was always welcomed as an important part of the family. Mrs Bennet was delighted. “Now if only we could get one of the sons for Kitty and Mary, I’d be very well pleased.” Mr Bennet (to whom she’d whispered this) said nothing. He crossed the room, leaving Mrs Bennet to Mary’s care.
After half an hour the De Bourghs finally made an appearance. The moment Miss Anne De Bourgh and Miss Mary Bennet set eyes upon each other they felt they must have much in common. Had the play not been about to begin they would, no doubt, have had the most spirited conversation in their lives.
Gentlemen, importune me no further,
For how I firmly am resolv’d you know;
That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter,
Before I have a husband for the elder.
~Baptista, The Taming of the Shrew,
Shakespeare,
Act I Scene I
Lady Catherine turned to the middle-aged gentleman next to her, despite there having been no introduction. “Shakespeare knows what is good and proper. If everybody followed his example my nephew would not have connections to scoundrels now.”
“Indeed?”
“Mr Darcy would instead have married my daughter.”
Mr Bennet wondered if Lady Catherine realized the irony of what she was saying – Shakespeare often demonstrated marriage based on love.
No doubt Lady Catherine felt foolish when she later discovered to whom she’d been speaking, but she displayed no embarrassment. If the Bennets were the only guests at the Fitzwilliams she would have known, but as it happened she had no reason to think it could be Mr Bennet. As she had not been in contact with the Darcys, she’d had no opportunity of meeting him (he being absent – probably in the library – when she visited Longbourn). On her arrival at Pemberley she had to ensure the gowns were placed in the only correct way and thus did not see the family again until her arrival at the play.
Mrs Bennet sat wailing in her room. Elizabeth, as a good hostess, if not the dutiful daughter, was trying to comfort her mother, even though this was the last place she particularly wanted to be.
“If I had had been able to carry my point about going to Newcastle, with Mary and Kitty, this would not have happened; but poor dear Lydia had nobody to take care of her. There must have been some neglect or other, this is not the sort of thing to happen, if she had been well looked after. I always thought the north was an unfit place for her; but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor dear child!”
They had all been sitting in the drawing room (I should say one of the drawing rooms, for there were several) when the post arrived. Mrs Bennet had eagerly snatched her husband’s mail with an “At last! At last!” In just a few moments those watching noticed a change in both countenance and colour. “Oh Lydia!” was the last screech to pass her lips before she toppled over.
The letter went something like this (Mr Bennet having retrieved his letter and begun reading it aloud as servants took Mrs Bennet away):
My dear sir, ma'am and sisters,You have made me feel so welcome that I feel born to be part of your family. I only wish I could announce the good news you were expecting. It grieves me to think of the pain you must feel in hearing that yesterday Lydia was delivered of a still-born son. We feel the tragedy deeply, as we would have given up much to give any child of ours the best life we could. Lydia is so much affected by the loss that she has been given laudanum and has not yet left her bed. I have done all I can to console her. It is my belief that she'd find more comfort in the society of her loving family, as I would feel this way if I were her. I must conclude, for my wife wants me once again.
Adieu,
George Wickham
“Oh Lizzy! Why haven’t I got any grandsons?”
“I’m sure Jane and Lydia will have more children, in which case they might have a son.”
“No, no, they will not!” screamed Mrs Bennet. “You and Mr Darcy must have a son.”
“Mama.”
“Lizzy, I insist on you hearing me! You must have a son, for then he could inherit Longbourn.”
Elizabeth tried to explain once again what an entail was, that because they were not direct male descendants and because the Collins had had a male olive branch, any sons of theirs would have little chance of inheriting Longbourn. This, however, was a futile endeavour.
“It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted so in my own family, and to have neighbours who think of themselves before anybody else.”
“Mama, I can not just produce a son, and you, of all people, should realize the difficulty.”
This was not the best thing for Lizzy to have said, as it only produced more wails. “It is still very hard that our home should be entailed away from us to somebody nobody really cares about. To think I shall have to give way to Charlotte Lucas!” Lizzy decided it might be best for Jane to comfort their mother.
The letter created different feelings among the others.
Jane felt for her sister more than her sister felt for herself. Mr Bingley could only say how heartily sorry he was to hear of it. Miss Bingley felt contempt for the writer of the letter and the woman who could marry such a man.
Elizabeth wondered how bringing Lydia into regular contact with a baby would cheer her up if she were feeling so low.
Mary was determined to find some words of comfort from one of her favourite books that she could send to her sister.
Kitty was pleased at the thought of seeing her sister again, but wary of the mischief they might get into.
Mr Darcy was torn between obliging them for Elizabeth’s sake and concern for his sister.
Georgiana was curious to see Mrs Wickham, whom she now pitied.
Anne was afraid this would mean Lady Catherine would leave and she wouldn’t be able to become acquainted with her newfound friend. She wasn’t far wrong. Lady Catherine was so shocked by the thought of the pollution such a girl would give Pemberley that she told Darcy she would stay with his uncle. Since Georgiana was at home, Lady Catherine thought she’d better leave Anne to guide and protect her.
Mr Bennet was concerned for Kitty. The improvement she’d made in the past twelve months was not something he wished undone. She needed time to develop more though. He thought of last night’s play. Could that be the answer? He could not find it in his heart to restrict her society, “but surely if she doesn’t marry until Mary does, she will then be the lady she has the potential to be?” he thought.
1 Realizing I went to school with somebody surnamed Matlock put me off using it for a title. Instead I chose Ilam because it is close to the border of Derbyshire (some say Pemberley's grounds are based on those of the Hall), and it appears that there has never been an Earl there, so there is little chance of offending anybody.
Chapter 2
Posted on Monday, 24 May 2004
Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent.
26th October.
Dear Sir,
May I say how truly rejoiced I am that the breach between yourself and my honoured patroness has been healed? As a clergyman, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence, but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to be on good terms with any one with whom it had pleased her to be at variance. I flatter myself that my present overtures of good-will are highly commendable, for when I heard that her ladyship had received a letter from you I said to her “I hope my cousin’s circumstances will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive branch, for it is a shame to separate a family that is much attached.”
My dear Charlotte has told me just now that you have given a living to a newly ordained clergyman. I must apologise for having been unable to offer any assistance. At the time I had hoped to travel and see you, but could not find anybody to look after the parish and did not wish to risk Lady Catherine’s displeasure. Could you kindly give the enclosed letter to the young man?
Once again I congratulate you. I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady, your well-wisher and friend,
William Collins
Dear Sir,I must congratulate you on being so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of Mr Darcy, who may reasonably be looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in the land. He is the nephew of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish. If his behaviour to you is like her ladyship’s – all affability and condescension – he will be the sort of man whom one cannot regard with too much deference. I have no reason, I assure you, to be dissatisfied with my reception and upon the whole, I am much pleased with him.
As I understand you have only recently received ordination, I felt it was my duty, as an elder clergyman, to pass on some advyce. I do not think it of light importance that a clergyman should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards every body, especially to those connected with the family of your patron. I earnestly endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect. Mrs Darcy must surely find some delicate compliments pleasing; perhaps while she is playing the instrument you could say that her fingers are as long, creamy and soft as a duchess (while I often amuse myself with composing such compliments I wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible). These are the kind of little things that please her ladyship, and it is an attention I feel myself peculiarly bound to pay.
I have heard that you are fond of music and sing quite well. Music is a very innocent diversion and completely compatible with the profession of a clergyman. One cannot be justified in devoting too much time to music, however, as a rector has much to do. The agreement over tythes must be both beneficial to yourself and not offensive to your patron. Writing your own sermons and parish duties (I am ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies instituted by the Church of England), will leave just enough time for the care and improvement of your own dwelling. Gardening is one of my most respectable pleasures and I am certain my wife would encourage you to take such healthful exercise.
I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances to set the example of matrimony in his parish. It has added greatly to my happiness. My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of thinking. We seem to have been designed for each other. I can from the bottom of my heart most cordially wish you equal felicity in marriage.
I remain, dear sir, your well-wisher and friend,
William Collins
Theodore Lucardie was humming softly as he wandered down one of the halls of Pemberley. Knowing Mrs Darcy’s relatives had arrived at Pemberley, he had entertained hopes of being admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose beauty he’d heard much; but he saw only the father during his last visit. Now Mr Bennet had asked him to give some moral instruction to Miss Catherine Bennet.
“Miss Bennet?” he called softly as he entered the library. There was a girl with her back to him sitting near the fire.
“Yes? Who is it?”
“Mr Lucardie, the rector. Hasn’t your father told you I was expected?”
“Why didn’t he introduce you himself?”
“Perhaps he felt it would be too awkward to introduce me and explain why I am here at the same time?”
“What are your intentions?”
Teddy shook his head. “He hasn’t told her anything? This will make things difficult,” he murmured. “Um, uh.” Absently, he picked up a book that was lying on a table. “Is this your book?”
“Bring it closer and I’ll see.”
As he approached she turned around and he could see her clearly. What he saw was the shock of his life. She was not the beauty he was expecting, but somebody with bad skin and unwashed hair. He supposed the rumour must have referred to Mrs Darcy’s married sisters and got jumbled somewhere along the line. She took the book and pushed her glasses further up her nose.
“This cannot be mine, it is a novel.”
“You never read novels?”
“Can you be a clergyman and have never read Fordyce’s Sermons? I was certain he had said something about it …”
“I do not know why your father sent me here. He must have been mistaken….”
“My father sent you here? Whatever for?”
“He wished me to teach you.”
“Teach me? Surely he must have meant my sister?”
“He did say he felt you had been more sensible over the past year, but compared to your sister you needed slightly more instruction.”
As Mary was puzzling over this, the door was thrown open.
“Mary! Are you reading again? Miss de Bourgh has been wanting you this half hour past….” Kitty trailed off as she noticed the gentleman standing near her sister. She didn’t know her sister had any admirers, let alone such a handsome one as this. Mary, however, hurried off as soon as she knew she was wanted.
“My apologies,” the young man said with an extravagant bow. “I seem to have made a mistake and spoken to the wrong Miss Bennet. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mr Lucardie and I am the …”
“The rector. I have heard my brother speak highly of you.”
“Your father wanted me to speak with you.”
“He did?”
“Yes. He told me he thought you were in the library….”
A fortnight later…
“Mr Womble, ma’am.”
“Welcome back Mr Womble. How is your father?”
““Thank you for asking, Mrs Darcy, he was quite well when I left Teignmouth. With such friends as you, it is no wonder I was eager to return home. Did I hear your sisters were all here, visiting?”
“Yes, sir, all my daughters, except my youngest. There was some talk of her coming down, but it was discovered that she was not yet fit for travel.”
“Mama, may I present Mr Horace Womble?”
“Are you one of Lizzy’s neighbours? It is such a comfort to see a daughter so well settled. Ten thousand a year (and very likely more!) and such charming neighbours!”
“Mama!”
“Having three daughters married and a grand-daughter is such a comfort. God has been very good to us.”
“I am glad to hear it,” he replied with more politeness than might be expected. “Where is Mr Darcy?”
“The Fitzwilliams have been so welcoming and the Colonel is particularly attentive. If a young officer of two or three thousand a year were to ask for one of my daughters, I would not say nay to him. It is a shame the regiment has left Meryton, they have left a deficiency of gentlemen.”
“Mr Darcy went to his study with his steward. You no doubt understand all that is involved in running an estate,” Elizabeth told Mr Womble, ignoring her mother.
Mrs Bennet was not put off. “My own daughter went quite a way north when her husband joined the regulars at Newcastle. It is hard to have a daughter so far from home. Mr Bennet has been rather hard-hearted in not allowing Kitty or Mary to visit their sister. I know how much she would enjoy their visit. She is more than willing to chaperone them at the frequent balls and parties, and she offered to find them good husbands.”
“Mama!”
“If I could just see them as well married, I would have nothing to wish for. Jane and Lizzy have been very kind with their invitations. You must know my youngest but one, Catherine, as she has been staying here often?”
Womble murmured in the affirmative.
“Are you fond of dancing, Mr Womble?”
“Ma, Mr Womble will be impatient to see Mr Darcy. He is sure to be weary from travel, so we mustn’t keep him all day.”
“Very well. I was just going to tell him about the ball you are hosting.”
“I have already invited him.”
“Mr Womble.”
He turned around to see Mr Bennet emerging from the library. “Mr Bennet.”
“If you are looking for Mr Darcy I saw him go towards the nearest door outside.”
“Mrs Darcy mentioned some business. Was he with his steward?”
“He was. I overheard them mention a tenant, so they must have gone to one of the farms.” After a pause he added with a wink, “So you’ve met my wife, eh?”
Womble looked surprised. “How on earth did you know? Do you eavesdrop on all conversations within the house?”
Mr Bennet laughed. “No, no. It was the expression on your face when I first saw you. My wife has that effect on people.”
“Your wife … er … Mr Bennet has your wife always been…”
“Silly? Oh yes! Now Jane and Lizzy are gone I hardly hear two words of sense spoken together.”
“What about your other daughters? Surely you are being too severe on them?”
“If you are referring to Kitty, she is uncommonly improved this last year, to be sure. If Mrs Bennet knew of a certain decision I have made no doubt you would be able to hear her screams in Lambton.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t tell me my wife wasn’t trying to marry you to one of my daughters? Since my eldest daughter’s sixteenth birthday it has been the business of her life. I feel however that it would be beneficial if Kitty were to wait until her older sister married. This would be unpopular, if it were known, to say the very least. Pray don’t mention it to my wife.”
“No sir, Mr Womble’s not here. You weren’t expected until after noon.”
“I made better time than expected. Could you tell me in which direction he went?”
“That way, sir,” pointing, “towards Pemberley.”
“Thank you. I’ll see whether I can catch up with him.”
“Very good, sir.”
Trudging along in the direction the butler had pointed he only looked up when he heard a dog bark. He was surprised to see a brown haired lady apparently playing tug-of-war with a Great Dane.
Chapter 3
Posted on Thursday, 27 May 2004
Two weeks at Pemberley had done Mary Bennet a world of good. She had a new friend and was therefore happier. Just as she encouraged her friend to improve her diet and eat more (much to the benefit of that friend’s health), so she’d been encouraged in exercise. They had made good use of the phaeton and ponies Lizzy had bought at her Aunt Gardiner’s suggestion. As the daughter of the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Anne had the advantage of an expensive lady’s maid and nothing pleased her more than to share her maid’s services with her dear friend (for what could it matter if she had two ladies to look after or only one?). Mary was also convinced to put aside her normal drab clothes for something more flattering. Although still not as beautiful as her sisters, she was less plain than she had been. She did not know it, but chasing the dog had given her colour and brought brilliancy to her eyes that would have made her mother pronounce her to be almost pretty.
“If you didn’t like your work there was no need to try and feed it to the poor dog,” a man chuckled.
Mary started, and then faced the stranger. He was a tall, dark-haired man, not unattractive. “Could you please help me get my book back? He tried to bury it and I am afraid I will never get it back.”
The man caught hold of the dog and gently took the book away. She gave a small smile in thanks and held out her hand. “Are you certain you want it back at the moment?” He began wiping the book with his handkerchief, caught a glimpse of the title and gasped. “Fordyce? I am no longer surprised! The dog has good taste.” The dog’s tail thumped as the man scratched his ears.
“I beg your pardon?” Mary wondered where this man had come from. “One cannot be too guarded to the undeserving of the other sex,” she repeated silently to herself for the hundredth time. Was he a servant? He did not appear to be, but she had believed she’d already met the gentlemen of the neighbourhood, so who was he? He seemed fairly harmless, but one could never tell. “What is your meaning?” she asked coldly. She was prepared to give a lecture if necessary.
“If you were to read Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman you would understand me. Although I do not entirely agree with her, she does have some interesting arguments on some matters such as this. What a shame I can’t introduce you to my sister – I am afraid she has influenced me overly much.”
“Oh! Is she your sister?”
“Oh dear! Did I imply she was? I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to.”
She raised her eyebrow at him. “Then why should I wish to be introduced to your sister? Is her name well known? She is not one of those radicals, is she?”
“Not at all! She is happily married to a clergyman in Shropshire – a curate.”
Mary had no idea what to say in reply to this. In the end she simply took the book, curtseyed and walked away.
After staring after her for a few moments he looked about to take his bearings. A young man was talking earnestly to a middle-aged gentleman, moving up the slope towards him. It took them a few seconds to notice him.
“…This would be unpopular, if it were known, to say the very least. Pray don’t mention it to my wife.”
“Shrewsbury!” the young man exclaimed with pleasure. “I didn’t expect you to arrive until tomorrow or this afternoon at the earliest.” He turned to the older gentleman. “Mr Bennet, may I introduce Mr Patrick Shrewsbury?”
Mr Bennet shook hands with him and then hurried away. “You must wish to catch up and I would only be in your way. Good day, Mr Womble. Mr Shrewsbury, I hope you enjoy your time in the neighbourhood.”
“Womble, how did you find your father?”
“He was quite well when I departed Teignmouth, I’m glad to say. He may be in Bath by now – he had been considering trying the waters, since it is a little late for sea bathing now. Shrewsbury, I cannot express how grieved I was to hear of your loss. Even after this time, it remains a little of a shock.”
“My family appreciated your condolences.”
“Your brother is still at Oakview?”
“Yes. He manages as best he can, but you may imagine how difficult it is.”
“Certainly. Are you still going to take orders?”
“Unfortunately I cannot – circumstances have altered so much as to make it impossible.”
“What will you do instead?”
“I do not know. Everything seems equally out of reach.”
“Why so hopeless?”
“You know I have never had any intention to learn medicine and our state of affairs restricts me from going to town, where I might otherwise study law. I am too old for the Navy and my mother does not wish me to go into the Army. She says that I am not fashioned for it. What other options are open to me? Where could I possibly find suitable employment?”
“If you are keen to study law, I do not doubt Miss Bingley would say the son-in-law of Mr Bennet would find no difficulties.”
“You told me he had an estate in Hertfordshire, but it was entailed away. Who is Miss Bingley and why would she believe he could do anything to help me?”
“She is Miss Darcy’s friend, whom it would appear had been hoping she would be mistress of Pemberley. Although she pays every arrear of civility to Mrs Darcy, when I have chanced to be alone with her she has mentioned how low the Bennet family is. Mr Philips, the attorney in Meryton, is his brother-in-law. Perhaps he has need of a new clerk?”
“You’d give your Kitty up?”
“Not for the world.” They both laughed.
Shrewsbury nudged his friend. “Have you spoken to her and got her father’s consent yet?”
“Having been recently arrived myself, I have not had the opportunity.”
“Why, of course. I cannot doubt your reception when the time comes…”
“That cannot be. Her father has just informed me he will not part with her (he says for her own benefit) until her sister marries. I cannot tell if he sees too little or too much.”
“Now I understand! You need to make a match for the other Miss Bennet?”
“Or wait an eternity.”
“Nobody expects Miss Bennet to marry early?”
“I have never heard her described as a beauty.”
“Beauty isn’t everything.” Patrick had seen many beautiful women who were cruel, immoral or merely silly. The girl he’d just seen revolted him less than they did. She was not striking, but pretty enough he decided. At any rate, he’d also seen a lot worse.
“From most reports she is accomplished, but if I bias you, you probably won’t thank me. I am not acquainted with her myself, but Miss Bingley calls her a shrew.”
“Not that bad, surely? I will have to meet this Miss Bennet for myself.”
Occasionally, when the noise indoors became too much, Miss Mary Bennet would take her book and wander the grounds of Pemberley. This morning Mary was so engrossed in her book that she did not realise that she had left the property until she heard somebody calling.
“Good morning, Ma’am.”
She looked up and saw a man sitting on a bench. “You!”
“Why, yes! I certainly hope it’s me…”
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve been burying a copy of Fordyce’s sermons.”
It was at this stage she noticed that he was carrying a shovel and that he was wearing dirty, old clothes. “So he’s a gardener after all,” she thought.
Patrick noticed Mary give him the once over, absorbing his dress and smiled. “I could have some fun with this,” he decided.
“May I ask the same question of you, ma’am?”
“What?” She was affronted by his impertinence.
“If you are walking to town, you are heading in the wrong direction.”
She looked about and realized she didn’t know where she was.
“So I was wondering whether you were lost, because I cannot imagine a young lady like you would call upon Mr Womble unchaperoned.”
“Mr Womble?”
“Yes. I have been planting some fruit trees for him. Would you like to see? Plums and Moor Parks… I am a little concerned about the latter – perhaps it is a little far north for apricots.2 But then, they were a gift from his guest and I dare say that they will be moved to the hothouse if they don’t thrive.”
“I did not know that he had any guests.”
“Mr Shrewsbury arrived yesterday. He’s a most agreeable gentleman, by all accounts. I’ve had a great deal of conversation with him. He seems a genius – he knows as much about gardens as I do.”
“Shrewsbury!”
Mary and Patrick turned around. Patrick immediately bowed to his old friend. “I have planted those trees, sir.”
Womble flashed a curious look at his friend. Shrewsbury made a concealed gesture towards Mary and winked. Womble nodded. “Thank you. I was hoping to meet Mr Shrewsbury here.”
“He was waiting for you for some time.”
“It doesn’t matter. Who is this young lady?”
“I gather she is lost.”
“And you have been regaling her with talk about gardening? Fie on you!”
“Oh, no! I was telling her about Mr Shrewsbury…”
Womble turned to Mary. “If you are going to the ball at Pemberley, no doubt you’ll see us both there. In the mean time, we must figure out how you can get home – your family may be worried about you. Will you come to the house for refreshments? And then you may make use of my carriage…”
Mary was slightly embarrassed by all this. “Thank you, sir. I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble. If you could direct me to the road, I am sure I could find my own way back from there.”
2 An English gardening site (http://www.backyardgardener.com/plants/index.html), recommended planting these trees in November. Another source (http://www.pemberley.com/bin/archives/regarc1.pl?read=370) says that Moor Park apricots can be grown up to the Trent River, but any further north and they need to be put in a greenhouse. This depends on how you define north of the river. If you follow the curve of the river, Derbyshire is north, but if it is referring to the latitude of the most northerly point it is south.
Chapter 4
Posted on Wednesday, 2 June 2004
Kitty nudged Georgiana and Miss de Bourgh. “Mary’s admirer is good-looking, is he not?” she whispered.
“Her admirer?” and “I have never heard her mention any gentlemen,” were the replies she received.
“That young man,” Kitty surreptitiously pointed him out, “has been trying to catch her eye.”
“I suppose he is handsome.”
“I prefer the blond gentleman over there.”
“Mr Womble, Miss de Bourgh?”
“Is that his name? We’ve never been introduced.”
“Look! Mary has spotted her friend and is heading towards him.”
“Surely you must be mistaken about any friendship between them? It looks as though they are quarrelling.”
In a few minutes Mary joined the group, looking slightly annoyed. “I have given him a set-down.”
“Who?” “Why?”
“I do not understand why Lizzy would invite Mr Womble’s gardener.”
“His gardener? He doesn’t look like a gardener.” They all looked amazed.
Georgiana defended her sister. “Are you sure he’s a gardener? Elizabeth did send another invitation to Briar Hill, but that was for his guest…”
“Mr Shrewsbury?” Mary started blushing. It was all so clear now. Why, she silently wondered now, would Mr Womble’s gardener have been wandering in Darcy’s grounds? It would not have boded well for his character and yet he had not shown any viciousness of conduct.
At that moment Womble and Shrewsbury approached. Mary looked at her feet. “Miss Catherine Bennet, it would give me great pleasure if you would dance the next with me.”
“I am afraid you are too late, Mr Womble, I will be dancing with Mr Lucardie.” She hesitated a moment, as an idea struck her. “Allow me to suggest another partner …”
“Miss Darcy?”
“No, she is dancing with her cousin. Let me introduce you to Miss de Bourgh. I know she is not engaged.”
The introduction was rapidly made, much to Anne’s delight. He merely bowed and said, “It would be my honour.” Shrewsbury poked him. “Forgive me, I am being remiss. My friend, Mr Shrewsbury, wishes to know you and your friends.”
Now that he did know them, he applied to Mary for a dance. She looked at him in surprise. “Me, sir? You want to dance with me?”
“Why not? I cannot dance without a partner and you would be spirited, I imagine.”
Mary’s embarrassment was of such an acute nature that did not allow for much conversation. She could do nothing but gaze distractedly about her. There are few sensible gentlemen who would bear this behaviour from their partner for an entire set without doing anything to remedy the situation. Mr Shrewsbury could not, at any rate. After several unsuccessful attempts of introducing a topic that would lead to anything but a very short reply, he remarked, “I confess I was mistaken in my impression of you.” This produced one of the desired objects, for she looked at him with a greater interest in what was passing. Reading the enquiry in her eyes, he continued, “If our acquaintance continued long in this manner, I should be disappointed indeed…”
Mary was completely taken aback. This was not what she had anticipated. Although the men were not usually gallant towards her, she had never met with a lack of civility. If she were the sort of girl prone to crying, she suspected that this might be one of the occasions when she would.
“Surprise…. blah, blah, blah…. every attempt at conversation repulsed… blah, blah, blah… If it would not be improper for me to say it, I would say that we had more to say for ourselves before we were introduced!”
Now Mary was attending entirely, she regretted that she had not heard more. It was not clear to her whether he thought she was not chatty enough or whether he was upbraiding her for comments of earlier in the evening. She supposed she had not given a very good idea of herself and began apologizing profusely.
“It does not bear thinking about – compared with me you are blameless.”
She looked incredulous. “Am I?”
“Why, yes! Since I had done nothing previously to overcome your impression of me, I could be accused of trifling with you.” In fact, he reflected guiltily, having done the opposite, his accusation of himself was apt and just. He began speaking again before she could draw the same conclusion. “You are not convinced? You would be easier, perhaps, if I named some conditions under which I could forgive what has passed?”
“If you like. What are they?”
“Unless I am able to laugh at… mumble…” (Mary did not comprehend) “… whenever I like, I do wish the subject to be dropped. It is beginning to weary me.”
“And?”
“And,” his eyes and mouth spoke of an irrepressible mirth, “you must acknowledge the truth of what I told you yesterday.”
She smiled. “That you have had a great deal of conversation with yourself?”
He laughed. “Are you teasing me Miss Bennet? I think we are going to be good friends…”
“Percival, what time did the ball finish last night?”
“Three o’clock.”
“Did you look out for my dear Anne as I asked?”
“She really did not require looking out for. She stayed up until at least midnight and appeared quite well. She even danced several times.”
“She danced?! Who could be so foolish to dance with her in her delicate state? Don’t tell me my nephew allowed her to dance at his wife’s ball?”
“Oh Darcy danced with her himself once,” (Lady Catherine looked pleased at this news), “as did all my brothers…”
“Still, I must ask Anne not to do it again…”
“Oh! don’t do that, Aunt Cathy.” Lady Catherine flashed him a reproachful look. “It would be such a shame to lose the pleasure of watching her. Why did you let me think that her health prevented her from attaining perfection?” he smirked. “Had I known she excelled as much at dancing I might have asked her myself.”
“Really?”
Percival put on a perfectly straight face. “Oh yes! Now what was the compliment I heard somebody had given her? Ah yes! Mr Womble…”
“Womble?”
“Mr Horace Womble. Heir to Briar Hill, he manages the estate, as his father is an invalid. The family inherited it from a distant cousin, I believe, so you would not know them. He had the honour of dancing with dear Anne twice.” Secretly he thought that it was lucky for her that she came during Miss Bingley’s visit and Miss Kitty Bennet was engaged for those dances.
“Any relation to the Wimbledon family?”
“No.”
A wish had been expressed for an outing for the young people in a couple of days. They were to visit Dove Dale, as several in the party had not seen that celebrated beauty. A downpour on the planned day of the expedition meant it was delayed until the week following the ball.
After spending a happy morning wandering the banks of the Dove, they sat down to partake of the cold provisions. There were three small groups: Mr and Mrs Yates with Lady Emma, Mr and Mrs William Fitzwilliam; Colonel Fitzwilliam, Percy, Elizabeth and Georgiana; and Kitty, Mary, Anne, Mr Lucardie, Mr Shrewsbury and Mr Womble (Miss Bingley had declined the excursion and Darcy had business with his eldest cousin elsewhere).
Percy was complaining about his aunt. “If Lady Catherine stays much longer, I may disappear to London.”
“What has she done that has upset you so much? The rest of the family is not affected in the same way.”
“She has been talking to me about matrimony…”
“Has she never mentioned it to you, Colonel?”
“Being the least handsome of the family, I fear she never held out much hope for me.”
Percy looked offended. “I am serious. ‘Percival,’ said she, ‘a young man like you must marry. Remember that you are a member of an ancient and noble family and that your actions will be of the utmost interest to your connections.’ And so she continued for half an hour together.” He took something out of his pocketbook. “This piece of paper contains a list of suitable spouses, to whom Lady Catherine would give her approval. Am I to have no choice in the time, place and person I am to wed?”
The Colonel laughed. “Darcy has set an example she does not want you to follow. As her favourite nephew marrying to her displeasure would be even more of an offence in you. A younger son of an earl cannot marry where they like…”
“…unless they like women of great fortune?” asked Elizabeth, meeting the Colonel’s eyes in reminiscence.
“What is the asking price of a younger son?”
“Unless the elder brother is sickly, not above fifty thousand pounds.”
“But since you’re the youngest,” the colonel teased his brother, “I would not ask above thirty.”
“Georgie could be my wife, if that were true.” He knelt at her feet with a wicked smile. “Fair lady, if you do not agree to marry me, you will condemn me to an awful, undeserved fate.”
“Undeserved?”
The laughter of the group lasted for several minutes.
In talking of all they had seen that morning, the conversation of the larger group naturally turned towards travel.
Mr Lucardie addressed himself to Mr Womble. “I’m a poor man who has not been in the world much. I wish to hear about your experiences. I believe you have been on the grand tour?”
“A number of years ago…”
“Did you see much?”
“I traveled through…”
“And brought back many fine treasures?”
“I suppose you could say so. If you are interested you may come at any time and see my souvenirs.”
“Thank you, but at this moment I’m content to look upon the jewel in front of me.”
Kitty blushed and mumbled something inaudible. Mary sighed and rolled her eyes.
Chapter 5
Posted on Wednesday, 9 June 2004
The dining room was quiet, on the eve of the Yates’ departure, when Mr Yates addressed Bingley. “Tell me about the estate you were looking into purchasing.”
Bingley was startled. “Er,” was the only sound that passed his lips.
Mrs Bennet was excited. “Are you purchasing Netherfield?”
“An estate, Charles? Louisa and I despaired of it! We always thought it a shame that father did not make a purchase.” Miss Bingley threw a strange look at Lizzy and Jane. “But I would suggest you to make your purchase in this neighbourhood.” Her eyes flickered to Mr Womble. “There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire.”
Four people tried to compose themselves behind their napkins: Darcy and Womble choking, Lizzy and Mr Shrewsbury hiding grins.
Yates, blind to Bingley’s danger and senseless to his wife’s nudges, began inquiring about its location. Mr Bingley, forced to answer, looked hopelessly at his wife as they waited for Mrs Bennet’s reaction.
She appeared on the brink of apoplexy. “How shall I bear being more than ten miles from my dear Jane?”
“But she is within thirty miles of us.”
“What is that to me? Oh Jane!” sobbed Mrs Bennet.
“I might like her advice.”
Lady Catherine’s judgement of her nephew’s wife was confirmed. She was just beginning to share her expertise, when Lizzy interrupted her.
“I do not need that kind of advice. I am quite capable of running my own affairs.” She turned again to her mother. “If I was to have a child, Jane would be such a comfort to me…”
“Good gracious! Who would have thought it! My sweetest Lizzy! Is it really true? A baby? I am so pleased – so happy.”
“There goes our peace for the next few months,” Darcy reflected silently.
After the congratulations had flowed forth from all (from Lady Catherine begrudgingly), Percival surprised them all. “I myself am expecting to soon hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet.”
In the stunned silence Lady Catherine cast dirty looks at the Yates, convinced that they’d led her dear, innocent boy astray.
“It will give me great pleasure to present both my cousins with their very own puppy.”
“Play something by Bach, Mary. Perhaps that piece I gave you?”
“There are few people with taste equal to Anne’s!” Lady Catherine proudly declared.
The elevation of Miss Bingley’s nose indicated that her opinion differed.
Although other composers were more popular at this time, neither Shrewsbury nor Womble disliked this melody, usually. As the music progressed, Patrick looked to see how his friend bore this rendition – the air in which it was played made him cringe inwardly. However, they both made an effort to keep their composure and listen politely.
Miss Bingley seemingly did not feel herself bound to pay the same civilities. With obvious derision she whispered in an audible voice to Lady Catherine. “Imagine! To be always going first. How ill-bred! Dear Georgiana is much more accomplished, but she puts herself before the poor dear.”
Mary, who had just begun another song, pretended not to hear. Patrick, however, was not fooled and thought he could detect some discomfort.
Lady Catherine piped up with her usual comments. “Miss Bennet, you would not play amiss if you practiced more, and if you had the services of a London master. As I have told your sister several times you will never play really well unless you practice a great deal. It can never be done enough.”
Patrick deemed this the last straw. “Miss Bennet,” he said with some pity, “you look tired. You must not over-exert yourself. Take my seat and I will pour you some wine.”
Miss Bingley took a step towards the piano and then turned to Georgiana. “Will you oblige us?”
“In front of all these people?” Elizabeth squeezed Georgiana’s hand encouragingly. “No, thank you. I would much rather hear you play.” (If the truth was told, the poor dear was probably more afraid of playing before her formidable aunt than anything else at that moment.)
I wish I could say that Lady Catherine commented on Miss Bingley’s playing and recommended she practice more, but I’m afraid I can’t. At the end of a song Kitty requested something more lively.
“Do not you feel a great inclination, Mrs Darcy, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?” Mr Darcy smiled mischievously.
Elizabeth laughed. “Should I answer that question as before?”
Such a suggestion of dancing was irresistible to the young in the party and so it was that Miss Bingley had the mortification of seeing her current and former quarry dancing whilst she was trapped at the piano.
Mr Shrewsbury was reading quietly to Mary in one corner.
But you who seek to give and merit fame,
And justly bear a critic's noble name,
Be sure your self and your own reach to know,
How far your genius, taste, and learning go;
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.
“That was some of Alexander Pope’s Essay on Criticism.”3
Mary reflected on the poem for a moment and asked, “Won’t you read the rest?”
“No, you can read it for yourself.” A pause. “You have not left your room for four days?!”
“I have also been in the music room and here, in the library, to fetch some books.”
“But nobody has seen you.”
“Everybody else is so busy with their own concerns that I doubt they could have missed me.”
“I have been looking for you, to suggest some books for you to read.”
“Give me a list and I will take them with me.”
“Stay! I have more I wish to say. If you think of nobody else, think of your friend. You cannot think so little of your friendship to imagine that she could be happy with you locking yourself away? Apart from her cousin and yourself, she speaks very little to anybody.”
Mary looked guiltily towards Anne. Shrewsbury lowered his voice and asked her, “This is not for her mother’s sake, is it?” There was something in the way she squirmed in the seat that suggested it was, despite the fact she made no answer. “The mischief of a Lady!” he sighed, hoping Mary would have the discretion not to tell her friend. “I do not see that she is always correct…”
“No.”
“I am inclined to agree with Hugh Blair. ‘Genius may be greatly improved by art and study; but by them alone it cannot be acquired.’4”
He cursed himself, for criticizing her, but she did not seem insulted so he supposed she was thinking of Lady Catherine. He decided he’d change tack, so he wouldn’t fall into the trap of giving offence.
“I have often observed, that those who derive pleasure from the music itself, from the action and not the perfection of their performance, are the ones that are listened to with greatest pleasure. Those that pursue music for other reasons, whether they mistakenly see it as a means to an end or are forced to it by another, do not do as well. It is not always the case, of course, but I feel that praise is better bestowed on those who make an attempt because of a love of what they do than somebody who merely goes through the motions or worse still puts on airs, when they may only play half so well.”
After several minutes of silence, he encouraged her to join the others.
Whilst Shrewsbury had been talking to Mary he had found, on the occasions he had happened to glance at the others, a most amusing spectacle in the opposite corner. Miss Bingley had been continuously picking up and putting her book down again, or trying to peer over at Womble’s book. She had chosen the largest volume in the library and every time he lifted his eyes from his book she’d pretend to read, probably in the hopes of impressing him.
Unfortunately for Miss Bingley, the book was very heavy and equally wearisome. Instead of being struck by her cleverness, he gave her a look of contempt. She began to doubt that he possessed the same views on female accomplishments as Darcy. Or perhaps he was just annoyed that her comments and questions prevented his progress through his book. That must be it! His book was sure to be more interesting than hers.
Miss Bingley yawned. “Won’t you read something to us?” she asked Mr Womble.
Anne eagerly held out the book she’d been reading. Miss Bingley grabbed it and read the title “Elegant Extracts? Yes, that would be suitable.” Perhaps it would not do to appear too intelligent, if Mr Womble’s opinions of the female sex were the opposite of Darcy’s.
“Only if Mr Lucardie and the Miss Bennets have no objections.” Mr Shrewsbury coughed. “And Shrewsbury,” added Womble.
All murmured their agreement, except Kitty. “You’ll get no response from Kitty,” said Mr Lucardie, “she’s reading the novel I gave her.” Mr Womble sat back thoughtfully.
“I’m surprised, Mr Lucardie, at your recommending novels to my sister. You know what Fordyce says about them.”
“Ah, but Fordyce admits he has never read them, you may recall,” Mr Shrewsbury replied. “He is in no position, therefore, to judge their merits.”
“Did I not see you reading Evelina the other day, Miss Bennet?” quizzed Mr Lucardie.
“I… I…”
“Don’t deny it – allow me to present the book I found on a seat in the conservatory – Evelina.” He produced the volume with a flourish. “Let us read the inscription. Miss M. Bennet is neatly printed on the first page. It is yours!”
Everybody laughed.
“So Fordyce is not the be-all and end-all with Miss Bennet,” said Lucardie, slyly.
Kitty suddenly giggled. “Do you remember Mr Collins reading Fordyce to us? The solemnity! I was thankful for Lydia’s interruption. It relieved us of spending an entire evening in boredom.”
“It was abominably rude of her,” declared Mary.
Kitty turned to Anne. “Would you agree with me, Miss de Bourgh, that he is rather an odd clergyman? I feel wretched for you, when I think of listening to his sermons every week.”
Anne did not know what to say and looked distressed. Seeing this, Mr Lucardie took the opportunity to tease Kitty. “What do you think of me? I imagine my company must be irksome, in light of what you have said.”
“Nonsense…”
“I thought as much!” he exclaimed, looking insulted.
“Conversations with you are entertaining and enlightening.”
“But as a clergyman…”
“As a clergyman?”
“You seemed to imply that we are dull creatures, not worth listening to.”
“Not all clergymen, just Mr Collins.”
“What is the difference?”
“Your sermons are better worth listening to…”
3If you want to read it, it can be found at http://eir.library.utoronto.ca/rpo/display/poet263.html. If you want a synopsis of the entire essay, it is there under each part.
4From Blair’s lectures on rhetoric.
Chapter 6
Posted on Wednesday, 23 June 2004
Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent.
5th February.
My dear Miss de Bourgh,I cannot express how delighted Charlotte and I were to hear your news. I hope you will be very happy, although of course, it is he who is benefiting in every way. A man who connects himself with the de Bourgh family is fortunate indeed.
As you are aware I am ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England. Life could hold no felicity greater than to join the hand of Miss Anne de Bourgh to Mr Wobbly in holy matrimony. I am all anticipation. Let me know when I may announce the banns, which I have been eagerly rehearsing with Mrs Collins, although she keeps telling me that Mr Wobbly’s name is Womble. One cannot impress upon the congregation enough the importance of the occasion.
I remain your humble and obedient servant,
Wm Collins
“May I take a turn with you?”
Mary was startled to discover Mr Shrewsbury on the walk with her. “I never knew you intended to visit.”
“Would you have run away faster if you had?”
Mary laughed. “No, I would have suggested we all come out.”
“I believe your sister is more agreeably engaged. She and Lucardie were having an animated discussion in the stables when I passed.”
“Dear me! That sounds almost clandestine.”
“Perhaps you feel you should reconsider this walk with me? We will return to the house at once, if that is the case.”
“Do you not wish to walk?”
“Very much, but I would not wish to impeach your honour,” he replied with some mirth. “If a lady is not allowed to say farewell to a visitor, I wonder what people would say about us wandering about in these secluded woods? Do you not feel in any danger?”
“No, indeed,” she cried, laughing. “This is an unintentional meeting. It cannot be improper unless we meet frequently, by design.”
“Does this mean I am not to accept any more invitations from Mrs Darcy? That is meeting by design.”
She smiled and shook her head. “On those occasions there are other people present.”
“Which is why you wished everybody to come with us. After all, there is safety in numbers. Aren’t you fortunate that I am an honest gentleman, that wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of you?”
“What can you mean by that? Is Mr Lucardie not what he seems?” enquired an alarmed Mary.
“Please don’t be alarmed on that account, for that was never my intention. Your father respects him and I trust his judgment.”
This relieved Mary somewhat, for it seemed less likely that Kitty would be a second Lydia. “My father sought his company for the benefit it may do Kitty.”
They walked silently for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts, before he stopped and turned to her. “Miss Bennet, I have something particular to ask of you.”
Mary looked at him intently. Was he about to ask what she thought he was?
“I have been speaking with your father and all has been settled…”
She turned away, blushing.
“…in a month’s time I am to become one of your uncle Philip’s clerks.”
Shrewsbury must have caught Mary’s crestfallen look for he then asked, “Do you not approve?”
“It is not my place to approve or disapprove,” she said coldly. “Was that your question?”
“No. Miss Bennet, my income will not be large, but I was wondering whether you would assist me in finding a home.”
“Very well,” Mary sighed. “Ewing Cottage is a small home half a mile from town. Purvis Lodge is a little larger, but the attics are terrible, according to my mother.” Mary rattled off a list of several more properties.
“But which would you prefer to live in? A house is nothing without a lady’s stamp.”
“If you think that way I wonder you do not seek a wife.”
“Perhaps I do, but an occasion has not yet arisen to make my feelings known.”
Mary glanced sadly at him. “She must be a charming lady. I hope she will accept you, Mr Shrewsbury.”
“As do I. Do you think I would be accepted in the neighbourhood?”
“The majority of people would find you agreeable, I am sure.”
“It is not the majority I am interested in. I should be sorry if you wished me away,” he said with some significance.
“You will always be welcome at Longbourn.”
“At Longbourn only?”
“And in your own home, but I cannot visit you there.”
“Could you live there? I would like to be more than friends…”
Mary gasped, and slapped him. The impudence of the man to suggest such a thing so brazenly! Did he really think she would sacrifice her honour to his feelings?
“Why did you slap me?” enquired Shrewsbury, sounding injured. “If the answer is no, you only need say.”
“I won’t be your mistress!”
“My dear Mary, who said anything about mistresses?”
“How else may I live with you?”
Shrewsbury laughed. “You might live with me as my wife.”
La! What a good joke! My sister Kitty married to a boring old clergyman? I know it must be Mary! It’s exactly the thing she would do! Wickham and me agree she will never have any fun.Don’t waste your time persuading her that Mr Shrewsbury is more interesting (how could my uncle’s clerk be exciting?). Come and see me instead! There will be balls and parties every night! I promise I will get you a good husband from among the officers. Can you imagine Maria Lucas’s face? What a lark! You’ll be the envy of Meryton!
Only, you must ask Jane or Lizzy for some more money, if you come. Wickham says we’ll need it if we are to hold a ball of our own.
Your affectionate sister,
LydiaP.S. Wickham asks about the living. He would be very disappointed if it is the Kympton one. That’s the one he was to have!