The Pemberley Chronicles (48 page)

Jonathan and Amelia-Jane were married and settled in the area he hoped to represent. He had been persuaded to stand in Fitzwilliam's seat in the election of 1838, which was expected to see the rise of Mr Peel's new Conservatives.

Writing to Jane, who was spending some time in London with her daughter Emma, Elizabeth commented:

Dear Jane, We are all agreed, that Jonathan will make a particularly good candidate; he seems to enjoy making speeches, and his Amelia-Jane is very good at playing the aspiring member's wife. He is intelligent and handsome; she is charming and dutiful. Colonel Fitzwilliam predicts that they will make a formidable couple at Westminster.

Charlotte has always been a practical woman, able to see an opportunity and use it, without appearing mean or grasping. She has obviously bequeathed the same useful quality to her daughters. All of the Collins girls have made the best of any favourable opportunities that have come their way.

You will be pleased to know, dear Jane, that the Tates--Anthony and Rebecca--have made a firm friend of Emily, whose work for the school and the hospital has gained her an enviable reputation for service in the community. Their newspapers readily promote the many good causes she has espoused; it is clearly a mutually beneficial association. As for the Reverend James Courtney, who has renewed his pleasant association with the parish of Kympton, he seems to find time to assist with many of the projects undertaken by Emily and Caroline in the parish. Our dear aunt is exceedingly pleased and still hopeful. She is right, of course. He is a good man, and Emily deserves someone like him. Richard is particularly appreciative of his pastoral care among the poor and the sick, who are flocking to the hospital at Littleford, in increasing numbers.

Do give my fondest love to Emma and tell her I would like very much to see her beautiful house in London, of which you have sent us such a charming description in your letter. Unfortunately, Julian is too little to travel to London yet, so I must wait patiently until later in the year, to visit my dearest niece. Darcy and I hope to see you and Bingley soon; do not stay away too long.

Your loving sister,
Lizzie.

For Elizabeth and Darcy too, life had been returning to normal. Their pride and satisfaction in their daughter were matched now by delight in their son. That Julian would ever replace William was unthinkable. His bright presence had been etched into their lives, and his memory could never be replaced by any other child, however delightful. Nevertheless, they were grateful for the simple joys that Julian brought them. He broke the long silences and filled the empty corners that might otherwise have held only sorrow. Now, Pemberley had another child's voice echoing down its corridors and flowing out into its sunlit gardens, helping to lift the pall of grief that had descended upon the house.

Later that year they purchased "Woodlands," having received what both Darcy and Mr Gardiner declared was an excellent offer. Elizabeth agreed that the farm was worth keeping in the family; it was after all the place where her heart had started to heal. Not surprisingly, it came to be known in the family as "Lizzie's Farm" and was the venue for many happy family gatherings.

J

But it was in the Autumn of 1837 that the marriage of Cassandra Darcy to Dr Richard Gardiner finally restored some of the magic that had fled from Pemberley, on that fateful evening, some three years ago. It was a very special wedding. There was universal agreement on that score, nowhere more than in the hearts of the two families, thus united.

The Darcys and the Gardiners found their greatest joy in the union of their two beloved children. Richard and Cassandra, having loved each other deeply for many years, had proved themselves by their constancy, their unselfishness, and their shining example of service to their families and community. Now, they were ready to make that best of all possible unions, a marriage of both hearts and minds.

Once again, Shakespeare's lines were spoken, "Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds," as they were married by Dr Grantley at Pemberley, on a day very much like the one on which Darcy and Elizabeth had been wed almost twenty-five years before.

As if to compensate for the dread filled memory of the day on which they became engaged, a day forever blighted by the deaths of William and Edward, their wedding day had a special brightness, like a peal of bells across the land, heralding a perfect morning. As the wedded couple left the church and insisted on walking, rather than riding in a carriage, down the drive from the church, through the assembled party of family, friends, and wellwishers, their happiness seemed to spread like ripples on the water, out into the churchyard and across the grounds of Pemberley.

Standing with their parents on the steps of Pemberley House, before they went in for the splendid wedding breakfast, Richard and Cassandra knew they were part of a great tradition, one they respected and served gladly. Mr Darcy's pride in his beautiful daughter was matched only by the regard and affection he felt for Richard. Had he chosen a son-in-law himself, he would not have found one he could have loved better. Elizabeth, sustained by the love of her husband and family, looked with singular happiness upon her daughter and son-in-law, seeing in them a new generation, to whom Pemberley, with its fine traditions, may be safely entrusted.

J

Some weeks later, Elizabeth was writing to her Aunt Gardiner, who was holidaying in France with Emily. Legal requirements of Paul's will had necessitated a visit to the farm she had inherited, and Emily had felt it afforded an ideal opportunity to take her parents with her.

Having given her aunt all the usual domestic news, Elizabeth found herself in a reflective mood. Only with Jane and her aunt could she be as open with her innermost thoughts. She wrote:

You will recall, dear Aunt, how highly we regarded Pemberley, when we first visited here in that summer many years ago? It was the very pinnacle of perfection. I shall never forget my first impressions of a place so special, it stood like Camelot in a romantic park, on the far side of a glistening lake, a haven from reality, where vulgarity and evil would not dare intrude upon those so fortunate as to reside here.

Do you not recall how you and my uncle teased me about Pemberley? I seem to remember that you were absolutely certain that the Mistress of Pemberley would be no one known to any of us. How often have we enjoyed recalling those words; Darcy particularly likes my uncle's remark about the "Master of Pemberley being a disagreeable fellow." I do not dare reveal that I was in complete agreement with that sentiment at the time! Seriously, though, to me then and when I first came to Pemberley as Mr Darcy's wife, it represented an escape from the ugliness, the embarrassment of Meryton society--a refuge from the petty irritations that so beset us at Longbourn.

Well, dear Aunt, will you be very surprised to learn that my impressions of Pemberley have undergone a significant change over the years? I do not mean to suggest that its great beauty or its appeal have in any way altered, or that my appreciation of them has diminished, but that I have found here not a refuge, but a different reality, which I have learned to enjoy.

I have learned from my husband that the reality of Pemberley requires a level of involvement and responsibility. It is the heart of his commitment to this place and all the people who live and work here. I have found too, that I no longer fear the memories of our dear William, which surround us here. They are a part of our lives now. When you return to England, you must come to Pemberley and let me show you how well I have gathered up the pieces of my life. I warrant, you will be proud of your niece.

While it had not been easy, Elizabeth acknowledged that she and Darcy had learnt to live with their memories, just as they had learnt and in many private moments expressed sincerely to each other the folly of the arrogance and pride, which had caused so much hurt and almost cost them a lifetime of shared happiness.

Pemberley, for all its grace and prosperity, could never promise them freedom from sorrow or disappointment. It did, however, promise a place of peace and beauty, a home like few others, where Elizabeth, Darcy, and their family had given and received great love, happiness, loyalty, and friendship, in full measure. Here too, they had found the strength to survive great suffering.

Surely, these were rich blessings, indeed.
E
ND OF
P
ART
T
WO

An epilogue...

My dearest Becky,

As I stand by my window, and look out over the park at Pemberley-- dear, beautiful Pemberley, my home for so many years--it is truly difficult to believe that tomorrow, I shall go from this beloved place. Yet that is what I shall do, going first to my parents' home at Lambton and then, on Saturday morning, to the village church at Kympton to be married to James Courtney. I know you will all be there to see me take my marriage vows and wish me happiness.

Dear Becky, I feel as if a whole life, not just a chapter, is ending for me. My life as part of this wonderful family, with whom I have shared so much, is over, and I am moving on. Though, as the wife of the curate at Kympton, I shall still be a part of this community, I shall no longer be at the heart of it, for Pemberley and its people are really the great, strong heart of our community.

I know I shall weep tonight, when Mr Darcy and my cousin Lizzie drive me over to Lambton and say goodbye. Much as I love my own family, I have shared less of the joy and agony of life with them than I have with Elizabeth, Mr Darcy, and Cassandra, and they have shared my pain and sorrow as no one else has done.

I have been, dearest Becky, a most fortunate creature, for it has been a privilege and a joy to have been in the circle of this family at Pemberley, entrusted with the confidences of these people whom I dearly love. Through my personal and intimate position at Pemberley, I was able to chronicle their lives and mine, as well as their joys and sorrows. The stories of the Pemberley Chronicles are theirs, not mine. I have not attempted to embroider and colour the facts. I have merely observed people and noted incidents as they happened. As you will see from my journals, which I have sent to you, together with the chronicles, I have made my observations, but I do not sit in judgement over those whose lives I have shared. All this and the rest of the material I have gathered together over many years, I am sending you for safe keeping. The reason is that I have decided, as the wife of the curate of Kympton, who may be privy to private material about the lives of many people, it would not be seemly that I continue these chronicles.

The same constraint would not apply to you, since writing is your profession. So, if at some future date, you feel inclined to continue the labour of love I started, you must feel free to use any or all of my material. All I ask is that you remember that these are the stories of real people, whom I loved dearly, and that you tell them with a modicum of affection and understanding. I had hoped to place the manuscript of the completed chronicles in the family's collection at Pemberley, and to this end I had obtained permission from Mr and Mrs Darcy. Since we spoke last Sunday, I have written to them, acquainting them with my intention of passing all this material on to you.

Dearest Becky, I owe you a debt of gratitude for your help and friendship, especially in those terrible months after Paul's death. I know we shall see a good deal more of each other once I am married to James Courtney and settled at Kympton, for there is much work to be done in our parish. But, dear Becky, then I shall no longer be "little Emily," as I have been to many of you, but Mrs Courtney, the curate's wife. There lies the difference. Thank you again and God bless you.

Your loving friend,
Emily
Pemberley House. October 1840.

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Postscript

Emily Courtney, nee Gardiner, formerly widow of Monsieur Paul Antoine, married the Reverend James Courtney, curate of Kympton, in 1840. She led a long and happy life, devoted to her husband and children--Elizabeth, William, and Jessica, all of whom grew up to be talented and distinguished members of the community.