Amanda Grange - Mr. Darcy's Diary

Your loving brother,

Fitzwilliam

It was short, but I had time for no more. I read it through, sanded it and addressed the envelope.

‘Shall you mind having another sister?’ I asked Elizabeth.

‘Not at all. I am looking forward to it. She will live with us at Pemberley?’

‘If you have no objection?’

‘None at all.’

‘She can learn a great deal from you.’

‘And I from her. She will be able to tell me all about the Pemberley traditions.’

‘You must alter anything you do not like.’

‘No, I will not alter anything. My aunt and I are already agreed, Pemberley is perfect just as it is.’

Elizabeth is delighted with Georgiana’s letter, which arrived this morning. It was well written, and in four pages expressed Georgiana’s delight at the prospect of having a sister.

Less welcome was Lady Catherine’s letter.

Fitzwilliam,

I do not call you nephew, for you are no longer a nephew of mine. I am shocked and astonished that you could stoop to offer your hand to a person of such low breeding. It is a stain on the honour and credit of the name of Darcy. She will bring you nothing but degradation and embarrassment, and she will reduce your house to a place of impertinence and vulgarity. Your children will be wild and undisciplined. Your daughters will run off with stable hands and your sons will become attorneys. You will never be received by any of your acquaintance. You will be disgraced in the eyes of the world, and will become a figure of contempt. You will bitterly regret this day. You will remember that I warned you of the consequences of such a disastrous act, but by then it will be too late. I will not end this letter by wishing you happiness, for no happiness can follow such a blighted union.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh

I dined with Elizabeth this evening, and I was surprised to find a large party there, consisting of Mrs Philips, Sir William Lucas and Mr and Mrs Collins. The unexpected appearance of the Collinses was soon explained. Lady Catherine has been rendered so exceedingly angry by our engagement that they thought it wiser to leave Kent for a time and retreat to Lucas Lodge.

Elizabeth and Charlotte had much to discuss, and whilst the two of them talked before dinner, I was left to the tender mercies of Mr Collins.

‘I was delighted to learn that you had offered your hand to my fair cousin, and that she, in her gracious and womanly wisdom, had accepted you,’ he said, beaming. ‘I now understand why she could not accept the proposal I so injudiciously made to her last autumn, when I knew nothing of the present felicitous happenings. I thought at the time that it was strange that such an amiable young woman would refuse the wholly unexceptionable hand of an estimable young man, particularly one who possessed so fine a living, and who, if I may say so, had the advantages of his calling to offer her as well as the advantages of his person. The refusal seemed inexplicable to me at the time, but I fully comprehend it now. My fair cousin had lost her heart to one who, if I may say so, is, by virtue of his standing, more worthy even than a clergyman, for he has the clergyman’s fate in his hands.’

I saw Elizabeth looking satirically at me, but I bore his conversation with composure. I might even, in time, grow to be amused by it.

‘Admirably expressed,’ said Sir William Lucas, as he joined us. He bowed to me, and then to Mr Collins, and then to me again. ‘Only such worth could resign us to the fact that you will be carrying away the brightest jewel of our county when you carry Elizabeth to Derbyshire,’ he continued with another bow. ‘I hope we will all of us meet very frequently, either at Longbourn or at St James’s.’

Fortunately we then went in to dinner, but though I was relieved from the company of Mr Collins and Sir William, I found myself seated next to Mrs Philips. She seemed too much in awe of me to say very much, but when she did speak, it was all of it very vulgar.

‘So, Mr Darcy, it is true you have ten thousand a year?’ she asked.

I looked at her quellingly.

‘I am sure it must be, for I have heard it talked of everywhere. And is Pemberley bigger than Rosings?’

When I did not reply, she asked the question again.

‘It is,’ I said.

‘And how much was the chimney-piece? Mr Collins was telling me that the chimney-piece at Rosings cost eight hundred pounds. I expect the chimney-piece at Pemberley must have cost over a thousand pounds. My sister and I were talking of it only the other day. “Depend on it,” I said,“it will have been well over a thousand pounds”.

“Very likely it cost more than twelve hundred pounds”, she returned. It is a good thing Lizzy did not marry Mr Collins, after all, though my sister was annoyed enough at the time, but what is Mr Collins to Mr Darcy? Even Lady Lucas agrees that he is nothing whatsoever. Ten thousand a year. The dresses, the carriages she will have.’

I bore her remarks as best I could, and I look forward to the day when I will have Elizabeth with me at Pemberley, free of all her relations.

I did not know that I could feel so nervous, but this morning I felt almost as nervous as the day on which I asked Elizabeth to marry me. Bingley and I went to the church together. I believe he was even more anxious than I was when we went in and took our places at the front.

The guests began to arrive. Mr Collins was the first.

His wife was not with him, for she was to be Elizabeth’s attendant. Mrs Philips followed closely after. The Lucases arrived, then a number of Elizabeth’s acquaintances. Of my own relatives there was only Colonel Fitzwilliam and my sister, Georgiana. Lady Catherine and Anne did not attend. I did not expect it, and I was relieved that aunt had decided to stay away, but I would have liked to have seen Anne, and I suspect she would have liked to see me married safely to Elizabeth.

The church filled. The guests took their seats. Bingley and I exchanged glances. We looked to the door. We looked back again. I glanced at my watch. Bingley glanced at his. He smiled nervously. I smiled reassuringly.

He nodded. I clasped my hands. And then we heard a sigh and, looking round, I beheld Elizabeth. She was walking up the aisle on her father’s arm, with Jane on his other arm. But I had no eyes for Jane. I had eyes only for Elizabeth. She looked radiant. I felt my nervousness leave me as she joined me, taking her place next to me as Jane took her place next to Bingley.

The service was simple but it touched me deeply. As Elizabeth and I exchanged vows I thought there could not have been a happier man in all England.

We left the church, and as I looked down at Elizabeth I knew she was now Mrs Darcy.

‘Mrs Darcy!’ said her mother, echoing my thoughts.

‘How well it sounds. And Mrs Bingley! Oh! If I can but see my other two daughters so well married I will have nothing left to wish for.’

We returned to Longbourn for the wedding breakfast, and then Elizabeth and I set off for a tour of the Lake District. Jane and Bingley went with us. We stopped for the night at a small inn and I am making the most of the opportunity to write my diary, for there will not be time later. I am looking forward to this evening.

After dinner, our true marriage will begin.

Today we returned to Pemberley, after our honeymoon by the lakes. Elizabeth looked well and happy. I watched her as the carriage rolled up the drive, seeing in her face her delight at her new home.