Chapter 13
DISTINCTIONS IN CONNUBIAL FELICITY
Pemberley
To Jane,
Be not alarmed by the apprehension of this letter containing any mention of those events which transpired at Netherfield.
I have no wish to dwell upon them, and since you have offered neither explanation nor apology, I must assume neither do you.
Nevertheless, we cannot continue to ignore one another, else family occasions will become impossible, and our husbands’ friendship will suffer.
Moreover, I miss you, Jane, and I worry for you.
If we can exchange letters without animosity, perhaps in time we shall be able to meet again as friends and forget these few difficult months.
With the sincerest hope of achieving such an end, here is my beginning.
Darcy and I have been back at Pemberley for three weeks now.
He indulges me almost every morning by walking out with me, and the countryside hereabouts is growing dearer to me by the day.
The view from the rise behind the house has become my favourite in all the world, though the one from Oakham Mount shall forever retain a special place in my heart.
We are to dine tomorrow evening with our neighbour, Mr Peterson. He is shortly to be married to Miss Hawes, whom I have met twice now and like very well. I hope we shall see much of them and believe they will make charming neighbours.
I imagine it is much the same for you as it is for me, being thrown into new circles.
Quite apart from becoming acquainted with all of Mr Bingley’s friends, with Charlotte and me gone, your own circle is depleted to fewer people your own age.
I heard from Kitty, though, that Marianne Etheridge has returned from London.
Have you had opportunity to see much of her?
12th November
Mrs Ferguson, whom I met in London but whose husband’s estate is in Dumfriesshire, has written to invite us to their Twelfth Night Ball.
I should have loved to go, but apart from being quite unequal to the journey, we shall have a houseful of guests of our own to entertain.
There will be Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and the children, of course, then Lord Matlock, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mrs Sinclair and, I have recently been informed, Lord and Lady Ashby.
Lastly, Lady Catherine, Mr and Mrs Montgomery and their son, Master Jonathan, will join us from Kent.
I hope especially, despite all our differences, to make their Christmas enjoyable since it is likely to be Lady Catherine’s last. Indeed, I believe that is why Lord Matlock insisted Lord and Lady Ashby join the party.
I own I am a little daunted by the prospect of being hostess to so many, but anticipate it nonetheless. To have such a gathering, such a mix of characters, it ought to be entertaining at the very least!
18th November
I am a little forlorn today. Mrs Annesley, Georgiana’s companion of above a year, has given us notice. I shall be sorry to see her go, but we shall not replace her for, barring the weeks of my confinement, I ought to be able to act as companion whenever Georgiana requires it.
Just as she is leaving us, we must begin the search for a monthly nurse and nursery maid.
I should be happy to employ one person to fill both positions, but though it seems a sensible economy to me, it has been impossible to achieve.
Have you been required to appoint any new servants as yet?
I should be grateful to hear how you went about it.
25th November
I have given much more time to practising the pianoforte since I arrived, and my playing is at last beginning to reflect my efforts.
Even better, when Georgiana and I play together, we have perfected the art of arranging the pieces so that her proficiency disguises my weaker talent.
We played a duet for Darcy after dinner yesterday, and he seemed genuinely delighted with our performance.
Whether we receive such generous praise from a less partial audience remains to be seen.
I do not doubt that some of my imminent guests will prove suitably severe critics.
27th November
This letter has taken too long to write, but I confess, sending it is a daunting prospect.
I dread that you will receive my news unwillingly and reply in bitterness.
I dread more that you will not reply at all.
Regardless, you can hardly respond to a letter that has not been sent; thus, I have at long last summoned the courage to post it.
I hope you and Bingley are in excellent health and wish you both a very merry first Christmas together.
Yours in love and hope,
Lizzy
Monday 7 December 1812, Hertfordshire
It was several years since Jane had been in company with Marianne Etheridge, and she was surprised by how little the woman had altered.
She had gained none of society’s graces, despite her time in Town, and had returned home after two Seasons still plump, awkward, and single.
It was polite of her to call, however, and were it not for Elizabeth’s unsolicited and presumptuous counsel on how she might broaden her circle of acquaintance by seeking just such an audience, Jane might have been better pleased that she had.
“How are you finding it here at Netherfield?” Marianne enquired. “Is it strange to be away from Longbourn?”
“I am not so very far away, but it is refreshing to be mistress of my own house.” When Marianne made no reply, Jane continued, “And you? Do you find Meryton much changed since you went away?”
“Very little, for which I am excessively grateful. I have never been suited to London society. I am only sorry it took me so long to convince the rest of the world of that fact.”
Jane nodded. “As my very good friend Lady Ashby says, a woman ought to be sensible of her station.”
“Indeed.” Marianne looked at the clock. “Pray, tell me, how does Lizzy? Her marriage is quite the talk of the town.”
“Curious, then, that you feel the need to ask me about it,” Jane replied before thinking, unprepared for the mention of her sister. She hastily affected a laugh to disguise her bitterness and added, “But she is at Pemberley and means to stay there for Christmas, I understand.”
“One does not wonder why. I am sure that will be delightful.”
Jane knew of at least one person who would not agree.
In her most recent letter, Lady Ashby had expressed her dismay at having been summoned to Pemberley and joked of being made to sit down with the tenants for a “Christmas meal served with a garnish of gaucherie and a second course of impudence.” Jane felt the vast compliment of her ladyship’s admission of envy for her own, humbler arrangements.
Rather than speak any more of Elizabeth, she enquired as to the Etheridges’ plans for Christmas, which they discussed until the clock struck the hour, and Marianne all but leapt from her chair, insisting she would not outstay her welcome, and left.
Jane would not have objected if the visit had lasted longer, for she was expecting no other callers that day and was rather offended by Marianne’s resolve to go.
She consoled herself with Lady Ashby’s assurances that, contrary to what Elizabeth might think, it was not for her to associate with a woman who had been slighted by the rest of society.
Pemberley
18th December
To Miss Mary Bennet,
I thank you most sincerely for your last letter.
Life at Longbourn sounds very lively. Until recently, I should have said Pemberley was quite different, but that has not been the case these past four-and-twenty hours.
All but two of our guests have now arrived for Christmas, and yesterday there was such a commotion!
I have not seen my brother so cross for quite some time—but I am ahead of myself. Allow me to explain.
My aunt, Lady Catherine, arrived yesterday.
I was shocked to see how frail she has grown.
She was scarcely able to walk into the house, even with assistance.
Whilst everybody was fussing over her, attempting to get her indoors and make her comfortable, your cousin Anna ran into the hall without looking and knocked her ladyship’s cane from her grip.
I was very sorry for her, for she had been an angel until then and chose such an unfortunate moment for a spell of mischief.
The cane fell across her ear and made her scream until she was snatched up by her father and carried off to the nursery.
It was then that Lady Catherine discovered the Gardiners were staying at Pemberley for Christmas.
I should never have thought, from that first sight of her, that she would have the energy for such a tirade as she then gave!
I am ashamed to say she was very unkind to your aunt and uncle and demanded they leave.
When my brother insisted none of his guests would be leaving, she turned her anger upon him and Lizzy.
Lizzy bore it with impossible civility, but Brother was not nearly so forbearing, and there was a terrible scene.
In the end, when nobody would yield to her demands, my aunt attempted to leave instead but was too weak to walk back to the door and almost fell.
Mr Montgomery and my cousin Fitzwilliam were obliged to escort her against her will to her room, where Lord Matlock (her brother) instructed her to remain until she could “recall in which trunk she had packed away all her dignity!”
Be assured, I have spent some time with Anna since, and she is quite recovered from her fright and the trifling injury to her ear.
Lady Catherine will not so rapidly overcome her wounded pride, I fear.
Lizzy, however, spent an hour with her last night—truly, Mary, your sister is fearless—and whatever she said seems to have persuaded her ladyship against leaving.