Dear Mr. Darcy Part 1

Dear Mr. Darcy.

A RETELLING OF PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.

Amanda Grange.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.

I've always been fascinated by Jane Austen's novels, and by Pride and Prejudice in particular. It was started in 1796a97 and then revised a great deal before being published in 1813. It seems likely that it was originally written in epistolary form since Sense and Sensibility, started at around the same time, was first drafted in this way.

Over the years I have asked myself what new characters would be necessary to reveal the plot if the epistolary form were used, and what interesting insights those letters would reveal. I imagined the feelings of the social climbing Caroline Bingley on first discovering that her brother knew Mr Darcy of Pemberley, and Louisa Bingley's feelings towards Mr Hurst. I imagined the family who lived at Netherfield and their reasons for vacating the house, so that it was fortuitously available for Mr Bingley to rent. I imagined letters between Elizabeth and her sensible Aunt Gardiner, and letters between Elizabeth and Jane. I imagined Mr Darcy's letters to his family when his father died and his feelings when he shouldered his responsibilities to his younger sister and the Pemberley estate. And I imagined his feelings for Elizabeth, revealed in his letters to his family and friends.

When other people want to explore their ideas about Jane Austen's books, they chat with fellow Janeites or write learned articles. When I want to explore my ideas, I write novels.

I have taken the opportunity to include the futures that Jane Austen herself planned for Mary and Kitty Bennet, revealed to her family members when they asked her what became of the other Bennet girls.

So here it is, my vision of how Pride and Prejudice might have looked in its earliest incarnation, written to entertain anyone who is in love with Jane Austen and Dear Mr Darcy.

Amanda Grange.

MAY.

Mrs Reynolds to Mr Darcy Pemberley, Derbys.h.i.+re, May 25.

Dear Mr Darcy, I hope I am not doing wrong by writing to you, being only the housekeeper, but your father is very ill and I thought you would want to know. The physician says it is nothing to worry about, just his old complaint, but I think it is different this time. I am taking it upon myself to write to you, so that you may come home and see for yourself if you wish.

Respectfully yours, Mrs Reynolds.

Mr Darcy to Mrs Reynolds.

Cambridge, May 26.

Mrs Reynolds, you have done me a great kindness. I have been worried about my father ever since I left him at Easter and I am exceedingly grateful to you for your concern. I shall set out at once and I hope to be with you the day after tomorrow.

Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Mr Darcy Senior to Mr Darcy.

Pemberley, Derbys.h.i.+re, May 26.

My dearest son, I have discovered that Mrs Reynolds has written to you and I cannot find it in myself to condemn her since I believe she is right in her fears. I hope I will live to see you again but, in case you arrive too late, I will leave you this letter, so that I may say everything I wish to say.

I will begin by saying that I am very proud of you. You are everything I ever wanted in a son, for you are a true Darcy, and I can think of no higher praise than that. Remember at all times who you are and maintain a superiority of demeanour as you have a superiority of birth. Do not encourage the familiarity of the vulgar, for be warned, they will seek to bring themselves to your notice; but only a.s.sume the proper bearing and it will be enough to discourage their pretensions.

Take care of your sister, protect her from those who would ingratiate themselves with her and, as she grows older, keep her safe from fortune hunters. When the time comes, arrange a good marriage for her; a marriage to one of her equals but also to a man she loves. It is the dearest wish of my heart that she should be happy.

By that time, no doubt you will be married. Remember that the woman you favour with your hand will not only be a wife to you, she will also be a sister to Georgiana and the mistress of Pemberley. She will need to command the respect of the servants and the love of your family; she must reflect the greatness of the Darcys; she must be a gracious hostess and a model of feminine virtue; she must be a modest lady; and she must be possessed of a refined taste and true decorum. And she must be a woman you can admire, respect and esteem, as well as love.

For advice on matters of this nature I refer you to my brother's son, your cousin Philip. He, too, bears the name of Darcy, and on his shoulders, as well as on yours, will fall the responsibility of upholding the Darcy traditions and continuing the Darcy name. It is a n.o.ble calling, and one in which I know you will excel.

Be affable to the poor, be kind to those in need, be a good landlord and a fair master. When anyone serves you with particular devotion, then repay it, as I have repaid the faithful stewards.h.i.+p of Mr Wickham. It was a delight to me to send his son to university, so that George might rise in the world and make his mark as a man of standing. I must now leave it to you to a.s.sist George in any way you think will be of benefit to him in the future; in particular, consider appointing him to the living of Kympton if he should go into the church. It is a valuable living with a good rectory and it will provide him with a respectable livelihood.

And now I can write no more, for I grow too weak to hold the pen. I hope that I will be spared long enough to see you again, but if not, I give you my blessing, my son, and I leave you with these words: be a good friend, be a fair man, be a tender brother, but at all times remember who you are: Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.

Your loving father, George Darcy.

JUNE.

Mr Darcy to Mr Philip Darcy.

Pemberley, Derbys.h.i.+re, June 1.

Philip, I write to you with terrible news. My father is dead. I arrived home, alerted by Mrs Reynolds, to find that he was very ill. I ran across the hall and as I climbed the staircase I thought it would never end. I reached the door of his room at last and I stopped for a moment to compose myself. The physician, hearing me, came out looking very grave. He shook his head and I had an awful moment when I thought that I was too late and that my father was already dead, so I steeled myself for the worst and went in. The room was dim and I could see nothing at first but then I made out his form on the bed. His chest was not rising and falling and as I went forward, my feet were as heavy as lead. But he turned his head and saw me and I fell to my knees at his side, taking his hand in mine, thanking G.o.d that I had returned home in time. He smiled and returned the pressure of my hand, and had time to give me his blessing before he closed his eyes and was gone.

How long I stayed there I do not know. Mrs Reynolds found me at last and helped me below. I sat in the dining parlour until the light faded and only stirred when the candles were brought in. The light falling on the miniatures over the mantelpiece roused me, and I thought how much my father had loved to see them there, often turning to the portraits of Georgiana and myself and looking at them with pride.

I cannot believe he will never see them again.

I feel empty and alone. And yet, in this empty state, I have more to do than ever before. The servants are looking to me to guide them, and not just the servants, but the tenants and the villagers, all those who rely on me and Pemberley and the Darcy name to shelter and protect them, and ensure their prosperity and well-being. They are all waiting for me to take the lead and I do not know where I am going to find the strength to do it. But I must find it, and soon, for everyone is depending on me, not least of all Georgiana.

She was very pale, poor little girl, when she heard the news. It went to my heart to see her so wan. I did what I could to comfort her but although I did my best, she needed a mother to help her, yet her mother is now long dead. To be an orphan at only eleven years old. Poor child! She is as lost as I am.

I thank G.o.d for my aunt Adelaide. She set out from c.u.mbria as soon as she heard the news and she has now taken Georgiana back to c.u.mbria, where our Fitzwilliam cousins will pet her and spoil her and do everything in their power to cheer her. I saw her depart with a pang, but I can rest in the knowledge that I have done what is best for her.

My cousin Henry came with my aunt and remained here when my aunt returned to c.u.mbria. You remember Henry Fitzwilliam, my military cousin on my mother's side, I am sure. He will be with me for the funeral but I would value your support as well. I must be dignified and give a lead to the other mourners, but at present I do not know how I am to survive it. Will you come?

Darcy.

Mr Philip Darcy to Mr Darcy.

Wilts.h.i.+re, June 2 I will come at once.

PD.

Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy.

Fitzwater Park, c.u.mbria, June 3 My dear Fitzwilliam, You will want to know how we are all getting on in c.u.mbria. Georgiana is very quiet and your uncle is shocked to see how altered she is, being so thin and pale, but we are all determined to help her out of her grief. Thank goodness it is summer and so she can go out of doors. Maud means to take her out riding this afternoon. It is a fine day and we hope the fresh air will put some colour in her cheeks. Peter has promised her one of Sheba's puppies, and although she did not appear to pay much attention to him at the time, she later asked me how many puppies there were and so I am sure the sight of them will do her good. We will take care of her and keep her with us until she is restored to her former animation.

We are all so proud of you and the way you are bearing your bereavement. Your father would be very proud of you, too. It gives you some comfort, I hope, to know that your family are all thinking of you.

Your loving aunt, Adelaide.

Mr Darcy to Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam.

Pemberley, Derbys.h.i.+re, June 4.

You will never know what a help your letter has been to me. To know that Georgiana is safely with her cousins and looking forward to choosing a new puppy helps me to bear what has to be borne.

The funeral is now over, thank G.o.d. Henry and Philip were with me and were a great support to me, walking one on either side of me as we set out on our melancholy journey behind the coffin.

As we set off down the drive I thought of nothing but my father: the day he set me on my first pony; the day he taught me to fish; the look of pride on his face when I started school; the advice he gave me when I came of age; and the last sad but treasured memory of him taking my hand and giving me his blessing as he died.

As we left the grounds and turned onto the road, I was comforted by the sight which met my eyes, for the road was lined with people, their heads bowed and hats removed, all gathered to pay their last respects. They fell in quietly behind us as we pa.s.sed, and, as we walked, more and more people joined the procession-all silent, but giving me strength by their presence and by the obvious love they had felt for Papa.

By the time we reached the church, the procession stretched back as far as the eye could see. The church was soon full, and those who could not find room inside waited peacefully outside. I heard their voices murmuring the responses, coming through the open door with quiet feeling. Mr Light gave an inspiring sermon and my father was finally laid to rest with all the dignity of his position, and all the love of his family, and all the regard of his fellow men. And as the earth fell on the coffin, I said good-bye.

We turned away, and as we did so, I felt an unexpected lightening of my gloom. For the first time I felt that I could bear the loss and that I could take my father's place as the master of Pemberley.

In some way I feel his spirit is still with me. I have his words to guide me, and the letter he left me to sustain me, and I know that I am fortunate to have them, and that I was fortunate to have him as my father.

By the time we returned to Pemberley, Mrs Reynolds had prepared a hot meal for all the mourners. Our neighbours gave me their condolences and remembered the many happy times they had had with my father, whilst the kitchens and stables overflowed with everyone from the neighbouring villages who had followed my father to his last resting place, and who each had a tale to tell of his kindness and generosity.

And now it is over and life must go on. Henry is to return to his regiment but Philip has agreed to stay with me until the end of the month and help me with all the affairs that need to be set in order. And when I have seen to the most pressing business, I will be ready to bring Georgiana back to Pemberley.

Your affectionate nephew, Fitzwilliam.

Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy Fitzwater Park, c.u.mbria, June 20.

My dear Fitzwilliam, We have been thinking of you constantly over the last few weeks and we were all glad to hear you speak so movingly of the funeral, and to learn of your own dignified part in the affair. It is never easy to lose a parent and it is even harder when you are only two and twenty. I am glad Philip is with you. Having lost his own father when he was young, he will be able to help you through this difficult time.

I am sure that Philip will be able to help you with all your matters of business, too, but should you need any further help with your affairs, your uncle has commanded me to say that you may call upon him at any time.

Georgiana's spirits are much improved and she has lost her sad, pinched look. We took her to Ullswater a few days ago and had a picnic by the lake, which she must have enjoyed, because when Peter gave her a puppy-a beautiful golden b.i.t.c.h-she named it Ullswater. Her reason was that the puppy's eyes were like liquid, which reminded her of the lake. But Sam the groom set her giggling by saying that it was a very good name, as the puppy was "ullus watering" something! She tried to stifle her giggles, of course, thinking them not very ladylike, especially at such a time, but we were all so happy to see her laughing that we did not mind in the least. She is blossoming in our fresh c.u.mbrian air, and-thank goodness!-our c.u.mbrian suns.h.i.+ne. Your uncle was remarking only the other day that Georgiana must have brought it with her, for we have never seen such a summer and our usual rain has been held at bay.

Your cousin Maud is taking Georgiana riding again tomorrow and if the weather continues fine, we are going on another picnic on Sat.u.r.day.

Your loving aunt, Adelaide.

Mr Darcy to Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam.

Darcy House, London, June 26.

Ullswater! How I would love to see Georgiana laughing again; even hearing about it does me good! I must confess, though, that I am concerned about her future; not the next few weeks or even months, but the next few years. I cannot always be at Pemberley and I do not want her to be alone in such a great house. I am thinking of sending her to school, so that she will have constant company and other girls of her own age to mix with. Let me know what you think of the idea; I would value a woman's opinion. Ullswater would have the run of the estate whilst she was away, with the other Pemberley dogs, and be there to welcome her on every return.

Please thank my uncle for his offer of a.s.sistance but I believe we have things well in hand. The only matter that troubled me was the matter of my father's G.o.dson, George Wickham-I dare say you will remember him-because, in my father's will, he spoke of me giving the living of Kympton to George when the present inc.u.mbent dies. This I would willingly do, were it not for the fact that George is not suited to the church. My father saw George's charm and his ease of manner, because that is what George took care to show him, but George has a darker side and I have had ample opportunity to see it during our time at university together.

I have spoken to the family solicitors about the matter and they have rea.s.sured me that my father's will only requested that George be given the living, rather than stipulating that it should be so. It has set my mind at rest on the subject, particularly since I now think more poorly of George than ever. I invited him to the funeral but I had no reply until this morning, when he claimed my letter had gone astray. Since his own letter was clearly a thinly veiled request for money, I told him that my father had left him the sum of one thousand pounds, and I arranged for the amount to be sent to him at once, but I cannot forgive him for not attending the funeral.

He thinks no more of his own father than he did of mine. Old Mr Wickham has been ill for some time and is not likely to live for more than a few months, and yet George never visits him, even though I have repeatedly asked him to. It will be a sad day for the Darcy family and a sad day for Pemberley when old Mr Wickham dies.

I will join you at Fitzwater Park as soon as I have finished with business in London, and then I must take Georgiana home to Pemberley. I cannot thank you enough for taking care of her, and for restoring her to health and happiness.

Your affectionate nephew, Fitzwilliam.

JULY.

Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy.

Fitzwater Park, c.u.mbria, July 3.

School is a good idea; I will write to all my friends and find out which they think the best for her. She will not need to go at once, however, and we are hoping you will leave her here with us until the end of August at least. When you have finished with your business affairs, then why not spend a few weeks in c.u.mbria with us before taking Georgiana back to Pemberley?

You need not worry about her education in the meantime, for we are not neglecting it, I a.s.sure you. She is playing the pianoforte every day, she sings and dances with her cousins, she sketches and paints and sews, and when she is not doing any of these things she is training Ullswater, who is eager to please and who follows her everywhere. It is charming to see the two of them together.

Your uncle and cousins send their best wishes, and I am Your loving aunt, Adelaide.

AUGUST.

Mr Darcy to Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam.

Darcy House, London, August 1.

Thank you for your list of schools; I mean to visit them all. I will be glad of the occupation, for it will help to banish the low moods that come over me from time to time as I think of my father and everything I have lost. But Philip has been a great help to me, and so have all my friends and acquaintances-the ladies in particular.

When they knew I was visiting schools in order to choose one for Georgiana, they all had something to say on the matter; indeed, they all expressed themselves ready and willing to help with Georgiana in any way they could. I never knew that such n.o.ble sentiments lurked beneath the surface of so many beauties, for it seems they are all longing to have a sister! If I were inclined to vanity I should think it was my fine person that attracted them, for I hear myself described so everywhere I go, but I suspect that if my fortune dwindled to ten pounds a year, instead of ten thousand a year, my figure would be held to be nothing out of the ordinary.

However, I have been thinking of matrimony, I must admit. I never intended to marry until I was thirty, but now that I am the last of my line I think I owe it to Pemberley not to wait so long, for I find myself worrying about what will happen if I were to die without a child.