Letters from Pemberley

  Copyright © 2007 by Jane Dawkins

  Cover and internal design © 2007 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover photo: Woman Writing a Letter (oil on canvas) by Duval-Lecamus, Pierre (1790-1854) ©Musee d’Art Thomas Henry, Cherbourg, France/ Giraudon/ The Bridgeman Art Library

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  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

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  Originally published by Chicken Soup Press, Inc. (ISBN 0595276954)

  © 1999, 2003 by Jane Dawkins

  Authors Choice press, an imprint of iUniverse, Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Dawkins, Jane

  Letters from Pemberley : the first year / Jane Dawkins.

  p. cm.

  A continuation of Jane Austen’s Pride and prejudice.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4022-0906-2

  ISBN-10: 1-4022-0906-1

  1. Bennet, Elizabeth (Fictitious character)--Fiction. 2. Darcy,

  Fitzwilliam (Fictitious character)--Fiction. I. Austen, Jane,

  1775-1817. Pride and prejudice. II. Title.

  PS3554.A9458L48 2007

  813’.54--dc22

  2007007295

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Introduction

  Letters from Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy to Mrs. Charles Bingley

  Letter No. 1

  Letter No. 2

  Letter No. 3

  Letter No. 4

  Letter No. 5

  Letter No. 6

  Letter No. 7

  Letter No. 8

  Letter No. 9

  Letter No. 10

  Letter No. 11

  Letter No. 12

  Letter No. 13

  Letter No. 14

  Letter No. 15

  Letter No. 16

  Letter No. 17

  Letter No. 18

  Letter No. 19

  Letter No. 20

  Letter No. 21

  Letter No. 22

  Letter No. 23

  Letter No. 24

  Letter No. 25

  Acknowledgements

  Resources

  Jane Austen Societies

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  Dedicated with humility

  to the memory of Jane Austen

  in gratitude for countless hours

  of reading pleasure

  Introduction

  At the end of Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen thoughtfully tells us how the story continues. After all, one never wants a good book to end and yes, it is satisfying to know that Lady Catherine does eventually become reconciled with her nephew, that Kitty shows great improvement removed from her sister Lydia’s influence, that Georgiana and Elizabeth become fast friends, and so on. Indeed, Jane Austen’s letters show that she knew her characters intimately and exactly how their lives would continue after the books ended. In his book, A Memoir of Jane Austen, her nephew, James Edward Austen-Leigh writes, ‘She would, if asked, tell us many little particulars about the subsequent career of some of her people.’

  Nevertheless, despite Miss Austen’s thoughtfulness, we want more! It is a mark of her readers’ affection for her books that so many sequels to them have been written. Here is another—well, not quite.

  My own particular wondering has always been about Elizabeth’s first days at Pemberley, her bewilderment perhaps, her anxieties—the everyday of a new life as wife and mistress of Pemberley. Although she is a gentleman’s daughter (as she forcefully reminds Lady Catherine de Bourgh at the end of Pride and Prejudice), she suddenly finds herself in a very different league of wealth and privilege altogether, mistress of a large house, and surely aware that many will consider that Mr. Darcy has married beneath him. Notwithstanding the support of a loving husband, she must sometimes have felt insecure and alone and rather isolated during those early days. It was this ‘little bit (two Inches wide) of ivory…with a fine brush’ aspect of Elizabeth’s first days at Pemberley that I have attempted to explore, rather than the larger sweep of the years which follow the end of Pride and Prejudice.

  I think, too, that Elizabeth would have sorely missed her favourite sister, Jane, with whom she had such an intimate relationship, and decided that since they would probably have written to each other often and frankly, this book would take the form of a series of letters to Jane, written over the course of that first year at Pemberley.

  Rather than a sequel then, this book more closely resembles an old-fashioned patchwork quilt, where in place of the scraps of fabric reminding one of the favourite frocks or shirts whence they came, there is a line or a phrase or a sentence from one of Jane Austen’s books or letters stitched alongside the lesser scraps of my own ­manufacture. (A sequel, I think, would be a brand-new frock altogether!) Lovers of Jane Austen will relish, as I do, her wonderfully concise, witty and waspish, delicious way with words, and will recognise some of them. (Lately I re-read a book by one of Jane Austen’s nineteenth ­century heirs, or rather heiresses, and was caught by one sentence which I felt sure Mr. Darcy might have said, so have taken the liberty of including it in my patchwork, hoping Miss Austen might have agreed it was not inappropriate, and that some of my readers might have pleasure in finding it for themselves.)

  Similarly, favourite characters of mine from her other books appear in this patchwork with different names, sometimes borrowed from another of her novels or a word-play on their original name, sometimes a name associated with Jane Austen’s life. I hope the reader will enjoy identifying them.

  Like others, my love of Jane Austen’s books led me to an interest in her life and times. It is from this interest that real life persons such as Henry Raeburn and Humphry Repton appear in my patchwork, along with contemporary ideas on architecture and gardening and art. Mr. Darcy has always struck me as a forward-looking, modern man who, mindful of the responsibilities of his heritage would, I think, have been interested in new farming techniques to improve the land on his vast estates and would have wanted to leave his own mark on Pemberley for future generations.

  As I have tinkered with my patchwork, rearranging, adding, subtracting, putting back again—all with the greatest of ease thanks to modern technology—I have thought often of Jane Austen with her pen and paper and wondered how she managed when she had a better thought and then a better one again. Knowing how arduous a task continual re-writing would be (and well aware of the cost of paper) perhaps she only put pen to paper after she had first honed her wonderful prose to perfection in her head. One day I hope to see some of her original manuscripts to get an inkling of how that brilliant mind worked.

  Some readers may take issue with me for setting this book in the year 1813. My defense is that although Jane Austen wrote Pride and Prejudice in 1796 and 1797 (then titled First Impressions and probably in th
e form of an exchange of letters) she revised it extensively before it was finally published in 1813, so that in my mind Pride and Prejudice ends at the close of 1812.

  And this is probably the place to say that although I have tried to be historically correct (or approximate), I am no expert on either the period or Miss Austen: this book’s only purpose is to entertain. If the reader is as entertained in reading it as I have been in writing it, I shall be satisfied. The more I find out about Jane Austen, her works and the society in which she lived, the more I want to know; it is a never-ending fascination.

  Jane Dawkins

  Key West, Florida

  Letters from

  Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy

  to

  Mrs. Charles Bingley

  3rd February 1813

  to

  8th December 1813

  Letter No. 1

  Pemberley

  Wednesday, 3d February, 1813

  My dear Jane,

  Can it really be only several weeks since our joyful nuptials and tearful farewells? There have been so many changes, so much that is new since then that it all seems a lifetime ago.

  I write to you from the comfort of my sitting room, which formerly belonged to Lady Anne, Mr. Darcy’s ­mother. A pretty room, not overly furnished, with a little writing desk which is very much to my liking. Mr. Darcy has instructed me to make whatever changes I want to this room and to my private apartment, insisting they should be exactly to my liking and taste. Perhaps when I truly feel that Pemberley is home I shall, but for the time being I am happy to leave things as they are in their faded, comfortable elegance. Nevertheless, the honour of my dear Husband’s gesture in giving me this particular room for my own is not lost upon me, and already I spend a great deal of time here when Mr. Darcy has business to attend to. The pleasing view from the window is an added attraction, the more so since I understand it was one of Lady Anne’s favourite prospects. Even at this time of year there is a stark kind of beauty to Pemberley’s surroundings and ­yesterday’s snowfall has given the austere winter landscape a magical aspect, which is all the more pleasing from where I sit in my comfortable room in the warmth of a good fire.

  We agreed to spend the first weeks here quietly and alone so that I can become accustomed to my new life out of the glare of the notice of the neighbourhood, who are naturally anxious to inspect the new mistress of Pemberley. Although tact prevents him saying as much to me, Mr. Darcy cannot be unconscious of the fact that some of his acquaintance will consider that he has married beneath himself. Perhaps he feels that his wife will be better able to hold her own in the face of any resentment, real or ­imagined, once she feels settled at Pemberley and begins to think of it as her home. Had we been able to actually discuss the matter I would have agreed with him wholeheartedly and thanked him from the bottom of my heart for his generous consideration of my comfort, but it is yet too delicate a subject to embark upon.

  Notwithstanding our mutual desire for this quiet time, Mr. Darcy felt an obligation to order the church bells to be rung and to arrange a wedding celebration for his servants and tenants. This took place a week ago. Jane, I had not an idea that so many people were under Mr. Darcy’s protection, and was quite astonished at his knowing so many particulars about them all—the names of children, a wife’s recovery from illness, the addition of a barn, the success or failure of a crop. My heart swelled with pride as I saw not only the ease with which he conversed with everyone and accepted their congratulations, but also the respect and admiration in which my dear Husband is held by one and all. I recollected my surprise when, on showing us Pemberley last August, the housekeeper had declared Mr. Darcy ‘the best landlord and the best master that ever lived.’ At the time I had thought this excessive commendation, but I begin to see that she spoke only the truth. (Your own sweet nature would not wish me to say so, yet I must acknowledge that you alone, dear Jane, will not share my astonishment: you, who from the very beginning of our acquaintance with Mr. Darcy defended his character.)

  The servants’ hall was decorated with evergreens and ribbons and looked very festive. Mr. Darcy had engaged musicians and he and I led the first dance to much applause, though we had the good sense to remove ourselves early that the revelers might better enjoy themselves unencumbered by our presence, and so the dancing continued until ten o’clock, followed by supper.

  Georgiana will join us from London in ten days and it is agreed that together we will begin visiting and carrying out those necessary social duties which will probably give little pleasure to either of us. Mr. Darcy and Georgiana are both uneasy and shy in social situations outside the family, and their circle is therefore small, so at least I shall be spared the agony of close inspection by a multitude! But it will be a trial of sorts for all three of us: Mr. Darcy will be anxious for his acquaintance to approve of his wife, and for his wife’s approval of his acquaintance; Miss Darcy will be anxious to please her Brother by pleasing me; I, of course, am anxious to please Mr. Darcy by pleasing his acquaintance! What a circle of anxiety, one which I will laugh myself out of sooner or later, I am sure, though I fear that it is too early to begin teasing my dear Husband and Sister out of their share.

  Yet I shall not scruple to confess to you, my dearest Sister, that amid all this elegance, and notwithstanding the affectionate heart of my Husband and our real happiness in each other, there are days when I feel quite heartsick: for your company most of all, but also for Longbourn and our quiet, ordered family life—even Mamma’s nerves provoke a certain nostalgia! The enormity of Pemberley, beautiful as it is, and the responsibilities of being its mistress sometimes threaten to overwhelm, but my courage, so far at least, has risen to the occasion. I flatter myself that nobody but myself, and now you, knows my worries and uncertainties, least of all my dear Husband, whom I would not wish to cause pain and who, as you see, does everything in his power to please me.

  No, you will think me an ungrateful creature, so let me hasten to add that everyone here at Pemberley makes great efforts to make the newly-minted Mrs. Darcy (how strange that still sounds!) welcome, showing extraordinary kindness beyond that which duty would require. If they do have any doubt of my competence and fitness for the role of mistress of Pemberley, they are good enough to keep it to themselves.

  The housekeeper, the very capable Mrs. Reynolds, has been kindness itself. (On my fateful first visit here with my Uncle and Aunt Gardiner last August, it was she who showed us the house, neither of us suspecting, of course, that we should meet again under very different circumstances less than twelve months later.) Mrs. Reynolds has been at Pemberley since Mr. Darcy was four years old and appears to have sincere affection, pride and respect for the family. Although she has carried out her duties more or less alone since the death of Lady Anne, she very tactfully seeks my advice and instructions on matters which we both know she is more than competent to handle herself. Indeed, if I hesitate in venturing an opinion she will diplomatically suggest the right thing to do, then thank me as if it had been my own original thought—a valuable ally and teacher, whose respect I hope to earn in time. It occurs to me just now that I must be making progress; lately I find myself looking forward to, rather than dreading my daily conferences with Mrs. Reynolds. In the bewildering first days here I fancied I should as soon prefer a daily audience with Lady Catherine de Bourgh than have the good Mrs. Reynolds witness any shortcomings I might reveal!

  Far above all in these early, uncertain days at Pemberley, my dear Husband’s affectionate heart and generous consideration of my feelings on entering his home have been a tower of strength. On the afternoon of our arrival, for instance, which happened to be a sunny, if cold day, Mr. Darcy, perhaps sensing my feelings of trepidation at that moment, suggested a walk and retraced our steps along the very same path by the river, up through the woods and back across the bridge that we had taken that August day with the Gardiners. The familiarity of the circuit and Mr. Darcy’s kindness in
suggesting it were a great comfort to me. His sensitivity to my feelings on becoming mistress of Pemberley is just another example of his affectionate heart, and might very well astonish some of our Longbourn and Meryton acquaintance, more used to an air of selfish indifference.

  The estate takes much of his time (actually demanding more of it than he has lately been giving), but he sees that we spend as much time as possible together. We take ever greater pleasure in each other’s company, deepening our understanding and affection for one another. Our walks around Pemberley are some of my most precious times, even if the weather is yet too cold to walk very far. Mr. Darcy has a deep attachment to the woods and grounds hereabouts and knows them well. He takes great delight in pointing out the spot where he once fell in the stream as a boy, or a favourite tree he and Wickham used to climb, or a good spot for nutting. During these rambles, our conversation often turns to the earliest days of our acquaintance and our first impressions of one another, and our amazement (still) and gratitude that things have turned out so happily. That such painful memories can now provoke smiles is a wonder, is it not?

  When the weather does not permit a walk outdoors, we take one indoors, perhaps along the gallery, where I am becoming slowly acquainted with the all too many Darcys whose likenesses hang there. Or Mr. Darcy might take me to one or other of the many rooms at Pemberley to point out, relate the history, or recollect a fond memory of some object perhaps, or painting, or piece of furniture. By ­sharing his knowledge or pleasure in it, he seeks to impart its familiarity to me. I could not wish for a more attentive, loving Husband, whose dearest wish seems to be that his wife should grow to love Pemberley as much as he himself does.

  And so, my dear Jane, please be assured that I am happy with my new life. Your generosity will, I hope, allow me the luxury of sharing with you my small anxieties and insecurities, knowing you will not give more weight to them than they deserve—we both know that I will be laughing at them (and myself) before long. Until then, it is a great relief and comfort to be able to write to you in the open, frank manner in which we have always communicated.