12. Chapter 12
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
21 April, 1838
Dear Fitzwilliam,
I have arrived safely at Longbourn and things are as we expected. My father is hiding in his bookroom. He looks so much older since I saw him last year. He is three and seventy years old, but he has always seemed so young in my mind.
Mary is managing admirably and runs the house with efficiency and prudence. I was surprised my mother allowed her to take over its management when she did, but I suppose she was tired of bothering with it. She has been mistress of the estate for nearly fifty years now.
Now for the news you are waiting for. Forgive me for keeping you in suspense. My mother is truly ill this time. She has not left her rooms in nearly a fortnight, and she sleeps most of the time. The doctor is unsure of what ails her, but he said he has seen similar things before. Everything that can be done for her comfort has been done. There is no way of knowing how long she will linger like this. It could be days, it could even be months.
For the time being, I am settling in to wait it out. If she recovers, I will join you and the children in Town. If she does not, I will send for you.
I know Elinor is in the middle of her season and the timing is not ideal, but these things never are. I have written to Lady Victoria to ask for her assistance and she has said she is more than happy to escort Elinor about as much as our daughter can withstand. Victoria might be my favorite of your cousins, but do not tell Richard I said so.
I will likely continue on here for some weeks, so do not wait on me to enjoy yourselves. My mother might yet recover—she has done so before.
I love you dearly, my husband. Try to enjoy the season as much as you are able.
Your wife,
Elizabeth
Darcy House, London
24 April, 1838
My Dear Wife,
I am sorry you are sitting vigil at your mother’s bedside—it is a difficult and heartbreaking position and one I wish I could spare you from. I have asked for a crate of fruit to be sent to Longbourn as well as your father’s favorite wine. Mrs. Landers has made up a hamper of your favorites, including plenty of that chocolate you love in the morning, and will send it with Joseph, who has volunteered to deliver everything to Longbourn.
He will likely stay on with you all—he feels things deeply and he has a great affection for your mother.
Have your other sisters arrived? I am glad to hear that Mary has found her place at last. I remember being surprised five years ago when you told me she would assume the management of Longbourn, but it sounds like it has been good for the both of them. Do you suppose your mother was feeling ill even then? I know she has never felt particularly healthy, but she has always seemed robust to me until the last few years. It could have merely been age making itself known.
Elinor is enjoying her season. I know you would like to be here with her, and I am sure she would prefer it as well, but she is not as engaged as we had thought she would be. She seems to have an aversion for large parties and noisome people. I cannot say I am surprised—she is remarkably like me in other ways, but I would wish her to have more ease in society than I have had. She is much as she was in the Little Season. She has her close friends whom she enjoys spending time with, and she pays little heed to the hangers-on who would try to curry her favor.
Suitors have their eye on her, as we knew they would. Lord Danbury has let it be known he would like to make an offer if I am amenable. I have told him I would not consider approving a marriage until she is twenty, or nearly so, and told him she was only now eighteen. He was dismayed, but thanked me for the honesty. I saw him at a party at my cousins making love to Leticia Cromwell, so I gather he has moved on well enough.
I am glad we waited for her to be eighteen to come out and have decided to wait even longer for her to marry. She will have this year and next to meet people and see what the Ton is about, and the following year she can begin looking more seriously, though I would be happy to have her with us always. The boys are all terribly protective of her. Jack glares at anyone who comes near her, and Joseph is often a statue at her side. If Thomas were not away at university, I am certain he would be just as bad.
Young Charlie Bingley is more like your sister than his father, which means he has yet to fall in love with anyone—a mercy I am supremely grateful for—and he and Elinor are often found in the same group of friends. I had wondered if a romance would spring up between them and I was more than a little concerned. You know how I feel about cousins marrying. But when I mentioned it to her, she was utterly disgusted and told me she looks on him as a brother and the idea is abhorrent to her. You should have seen her face! You would have had a great laugh.
Bennet is doing well, and thankfully no one seems to have caught his eye, though he is greatly sought after, as we knew he would be. I can hear you now, saying that with my looks and your charm, how could he be anything but? But I must disagree with you and say that even without charm or good looks, a firstborn son with a wealthy estate is always desirable.
Frederick and Richard are doing well in school. Bennet stopped to visit them on his way to Town. They still pull their old trick of trading places with one another, but one of the other students tired of it and shaved a section of hair just above Richard’s ear clean off, and now everyone can tell which is which. Bennet informed me that Rich tried to convince Fred to do the same on his hair, but F refused. I am glad to see they can have differing opinions at least some of the time.
I do wonder how they will fare once they are out of university and need to find wives and begin families of their own. I suppose it is too much to hope for a pair of twin sisters to marry them? It could be ideal, though I imagine their children would be nearly identical.
I am musing, as I do when I am tired and missing my wife. I know we have been separated less than a fortnight, but I miss you nonetheless.
Take care of yourself, my dear. I will find time soon to come and visit for a day or two.
All my love,
FD
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
27 April, 1838
My Dear Husband,
Your words are a balm to my weary soul. As is the hamper Cook prepared. Please give her my heartfelt thanks—it is much appreciated.
Hearing about the busy nothings of Town is exactly the distraction I needed. I am not surprised at all that Bennet is highly prized. Besides being the firstborn and heir, he is a lovely young man, and I do not think I am too biased in thinking so. He has my humor, which I flatter myself is one of my better qualities, and his father’s good looks, which would be enough on their own to draw the ladies’ eyes. It certainly was for you not so long ago.
I shall not go on about how handsome you are because I know how uncomfortable it makes you, but it is true nonetheless. I hope all this attention does not go to Bennet’s head. I want him to remain the kind and thoughtful young man he is and not become some dandy with an inflated sense of self-importance. I do so hope he finds a kind young lady to marry when the time is right. In case you are wondering, I do not believe that time is now, nor any time soon. He should be older, more experienced when he marries. I do not want him to regret his choice or the things he will not do once he becomes a husband and father.
Sweet Elinor! I know she is not as fond of society as I am, but I had not thought her as disinclined to it as you are. Perhaps I am wrong. Town is its own beast regardless. Even I find it exhausting! One is simply not meant to attend so many parties in the same day. It is not natural.
Let her enjoy this next week—I know she has a few engagements she is looking forward to—and then please bring the children to Longbourn on Thursday. I told Elinor in my last letter that I would require her here shortly and she did not seem displeased by the notion. Perhaps she is hoping for a respite. I too remember how she was tired of the Little Season after only three weeks and wished to return home.
I am not anxious for her to wed and move away, so I am glad you and the boys are frightening away all the hopeful suitors. I know I am going on about the children—it is easier than facing the difficulties here.
Oh, Fitzwilliam! My mother is not improving.
She is only awake for an hour or two each day, and it is all we can do to get her to take a little nourishment. I cannot think she will last long in such a situation. If there are any changes in the next two days, I will write, but otherwise, can you bring the children to say their farewells? I know they were never particularly close to my mother, but she is their grandmother, and it is such a close distance to London. It is the right thing to do, though I am sorry to cut short their fun in Town.
Please come Thursday, though I will send word if you are needed sooner.
Thank you for being a stalwart presence I may lean on. It means more to me than you know. I love you, dearest.
Your wife,
Elizabeth
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
29 April, 1838
Fitzwilliam,
Things have taken a turn for the worse. Please come quickly and bring the children.
Elizabeth
Darcy House, London
29 April, 1838
My Dear Wife,
I am sorry to hear about your mother. I know you have not had the easiest relationship, but she is your mother and this must therefore be difficult. I am with you in spirit, my love, and soon I will be with you in body as well.
We have attended all the most important events. There is a concert tomorrow Elinor had hoped to see, but we may leave the following morning. We will be with you Tuesday afternoon.
Bennet was the toast of a ball this evening, though I do not think he realized it. He and Charlie arrived at the Walters ball just as the supper set was beginning and somehow, they were cajoled into dancing by the hostess. They ended up with a pair of cousins—I can only imagine the hostess found this privately amusing—and soon the tongues were wagging. Charlie was with Minerva Hutton, a petite girl I know no ill of, though she did seem rather dull. Bennet was with her cousin, Adelaide Hutton, who may be the tallest woman I have ever seen, the poor dear. I imagine that is why she was paired with Bennet; I cannot fault her aunt for arranging matters thusly. I believe she is a nice enough young lady, and Bennet laughed and smiled a great deal during their dance, so mayhap they will become friends.
Regardless, the dances set tongues wagging and Victoria told me there is hope he will call on her. I have advised him not to do so—it would only raise expectations he cannot fulfill. He only looked at me thoughtfully, which makes me wonder if he is considering marriage more than we thought he was. He is full young to take such a step, so I hope he is not, but if he is considering such a thing, I would rather he speak to me of it than keep it to himself.
I will find a moment to have a private word with him tomorrow.
My dear, your note has just arrived. It is late, but we will be on the road in the morning. I will likely place this letter into your hands myself.
Hold fast, my love. We are coming.
FD
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
4 May, 1838
My Dear Fitzwilliam,
You are residing in the same house with me, so it is not necessary that I write to you, but I wished to tell you how much I have appreciated your presence these last days. You have been everything I needed you to be and more, and I do not know what I would do without you. The steadiness that I have always loved in you has been in high demand, and you have risen to the occasion brilliantly. You are an exemplary husband and son-in-law and I thank you for all you have done for me and the Bennet family.
Life is unpredictable, and things do not always go the way we have planned them, but I would not trade the life I have lived with you for any other, for I cannot think of one that would suit me better.
We have just buried my mother, and you have held my hand whenever I have needed you. You have assisted my father with the solicitor and the formal arrangements. Even Mary has benefitted from your presence! I saw you giving her your handkerchief when hers was wet through, and the way she leaned on your arm when you led her back to the house. You were the perfect brother to her.
You have written letters and been an example of everything a gentleman should be for the boys. When I saw Fred and Rich writing letters next to you in my father’s bookrooom, I could barely withhold my tears. You are teaching our children so well, my love, through your example and your wisdom, and they are learning to be the kind of men a mother will be proud of. They are learning to be like you.
I wish your own mother could have seen how very well you turned out. I know she would be fair to bursting with pride over you.
You are wonderful, my love, and as we have seen, life is uncertain. It is important to me that you know how very much I treasure you. Come what may, I am blessed to be living this beautiful, unexpected adventure of a life with you. I love you with all my heart.
Your wife,
Elizabeth