CHAPTER 43 Letters
The Wickhams left after only two nights at Longbourn. Thankfully there was no more mention of them staying at Pemberley or even Netherfield. The renovations at Purvis Lodge proceeded steadily, and Mrs. Bennet continued to receive calls from her closest friends. Weeks went by.
One morning, Elizabeth walked along the path to Oakham Mount, thinking of the last time she was here - with him.
Darcy was gone now, having left for Pemberley not long after the Wickhams left for Newcastle.
He had initially asked her if he should offer to take the Wickhams northward and she’d immediately rejected the idea.
“You have done more than enough, Darcy, and you need not do anymore. Allow them to fend for themselves now, for it is time they stopped depending on others.”
She thought at first that she’d been too harsh, but fortunately he did not seem to mind, and only thanked her for her advice with that irresistible grin of his.
She missed him and thought of him everyday. He had sent a short letter as soon as he arrived at Pemberley but had only written a longer missive a few days later. She was on her way to Oakham mount now, to read it once more.
She walked slowly through the trees, taking measured steps and looking about every once in a while.
Though it was late spring, the day seemed more like summertime.
It felt bittersweet to be walking here - a place she’d always loved, knowing that she would be leaving it in the not too distant future.
Still, she would appreciate it while she could and attempt to think only about the current pleasure it gave her.
She gained the summit and walked to the flat rock overlooking the valley.
She pulled out a handful of strawberries from her pocket and began to eat them.
They were small and not fully ripe, but she enjoyed their tartness, eating each one slowly as she looked out towards the farmlands below.
She had sat here with him not long ago but resisted the urge to lament his absence.
Instead she thought about her father - the other gentleman whose company she missed.
Elizabeth realised that this time with only her family, in the place where she’d grown up, was the best chance she had to say her farewells to him.
He had not been the best landlord and had taken only minimal care of his estate, choosing instead to spend most of his time in the solitude of his library.
He had not bothered to check the behaviour of his younger daughters and instead left that to his wife, Jane and herself.
These were his faults and she had always been aware of them.
He was not perfect. But he was her father and had loved her.
He’d instilled in her a love of books and a tendency to see the humorous side of life.
They’d laughed together at the whims and inconsistencies of their neighbours.
He had cultivated her intelligence and keen mind and loved her as the son he never had.
She saw this more clearly now - both his faults and shining qualities.
Without him she would not have been the impertinent young lady that Darcy had fallen in love with.
Indeed, those two gentlemen were more alike than she’d initially thought them to be - both being intelligent and well-informed.
But, whereas Darcy was responsible to a fault, her father performed his duties to a minimal degree.
She never knew what he’d told her mother the day he died.
But it seemed to Elizabeth that he had apologised for not being there when she needed him.
And Fanny Bennet seemed to be a better person for this - having both her fears and her efforts at last validated by her husband.
It was a pity, thought Elizabeth, that he had only been able to make these confessions on the day he passed.
But she supposed that it was precisely his impending demise that had motivated him to be so honest. Thankfully, it had not been wasted.
Fanny was a better mother now, and had lately been spending more time with both Kitty and Mary.
She began to take her sisters in hand and teach them about running a household.
She also began to spend time arranging Mary’s hair and listening to her when she played the instrument.
She encouraged Kitty’s hobby of sketching, and even gave Lydia some practical advice on how to run a household on a fixed budget.
Lydia had not wished to listen at first but Fanny had made certain she took notes and tried to impress upon her that being a wife was not only about dressing prettily and hosting dinner parties but also about keeping a household running with a limited amount of funds.
She and Jane also spent more time with their sisters - Jane, showing them how to make various medicinal herbs in the stillroom; and Elizabeth, reading and discussing books with them in the library.
Thus, Mary and Kitty learned how to make cherry bark tea and eucalyptus pastes while also learning to discuss, “The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.” She and Jane became better at estate management since it now fell upon them to meet with the steward and discuss their tenants’ concerns.
Her days passed with a nostalgic purposefulness and she realised how much she had grown from the girl of the previous year.
She no longer ran from Longbourn to avoid its chaos, but instead took solace in how much closer she and her remaining sisters had become during their time of mourning.
Once done with the strawberries, she wiped her hands on a handkerchief and pulled out Darcy’s most recent letter. She was done with her duties for the day and would allow herself the pleasure of reading it again.
Pemberley, Derbyshire
May 1812
My love,
I am happy to be home again, but have nevertheless found Pemberley strangely empty without you.
I know you have never been here, yet I cannot help but think of you every time I enter a certain room, or a certain part of the garden, or notice a particularly lovely view from a certain part of the property.
In spirit - for me - you are already here.
I can see you sitting with me in the library, bent over a book in the evening, the firelight casting a golden glow to your dark hair.
I can see you looking up from your book to ask me some trivial question and your eyebrows furrowing as you concentrate on my response.
I can see you strolling through the garden, trailing your fingers along the rose petals and bending to sniff their scent.
I can see you at the writing desk that was once my mother’s, quill in hand, perched over the inkwell, and contemplating what you shall write next.
Georgiana and I were alone here for the past six years, and it seemed adequate - then.
But it isn’t so any longer. For you have already made an indelible imprint here which I cannot forget and cannot stop thinking of.
It seems to me that the life I led before was tepid, colourless and lonely compared to the life I can imagine having with you.
Another five months then we shall be married. But the days are slow to pass. Perhaps I shall head south soon so I can see you again (although it has been less than a week since I arrived.) What foolishness has entered my brain!
I hope you are well, my love, and that you are taking pleasure in the company of your family and your walks along those familiar paths.
I think of you everyday and look forward to the time when we shall be together - when we can walk these paths I now walk alone and know we shall never again be separated.
Yours forever,
Darcy
*****
Darcy stood at the window of his study and smiled.
He had not seen Elizabeth in weeks and the arrival of her letter was a tremendous boost to his spirits.
He was delighted to find that she was as playful with her written word as she was with her speech.
And he had never enjoyed a letter more. It was one good thing, at least, that came from their separation - the fact that she now wrote to him.
He had already read her letter twice but decided to read it a third time.
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
June 1812
My dearest,
I am smiling as I write this, imagining myself at Pemberley, writing a letter as I am doing now and having you beside me. I look forward to that time, but shall endeavour to enjoy this present moment, knowing that you shall be, for many years, in my future.
I went on a walk today to Oakham Mount and re-read your letter for the seventh time.
Yes, I have read your letter seven times!
(And shall likely read it many more times in the coming days…
and years.) I have been enjoying the beauties of Hertfordshire, the gently rolling hills and the balmy summer days, knowing that soon, I will no longer live here.
But that does not concern me in the least, for I will have other hills to walk through - further north, and likely steeper - and shall walk through them with you.