Mr. Darcy's Decision: A Sequel to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Introduction
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Copyright Page
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INTRODUCTION
This continuation of Pride and Prejudice alludes to both Jane Austen’s original story and the popular British television adaptation of the work (starring Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle). Its intention is to entertain those who wish to know what happened to Darcy and Elizabeth after their marriage, and how the lives of those around these favorite characters unfolded.
CHAPTER 1
“Pride,” observed Mary, who prided herself upon the solidity of her reflections,“is a very common failing I believe.”
Though it may not be universally acknowledged, it is a truth that the creation of one man’s pleasure is oft the reason for another’s grief. Amongst others, this truth is well fixed.
On first coming into Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy was a single man, he possessed a large fortune and, although he may very well have overlooked the fact, these two defining features dictated that he was in want of nothing more than a wife.
When he married Elizabeth Bennet in the autumn of 1812, it was the cause of a great flow of feelings.The bride and groom were elated, the intricacies of both their natures entwined so naturally now that recollection of any previous dislike of each other was avoided by the pair and discouraged in others. Oh, what a disagreeable and thoroughly inconvenient facility memory, particularly a good one, could be. Elizabeth often pondered on the sharpness and clarity with which acquaintances could summon up each detail of the past and, despite one’s blushes and discomfort, warm up stale moments of embarrassment to be offered around for refreshment.
“To think, Miss Eliza, how thoroughly objectionable you once found the fellow,” remarked Sir William Lucas, the father of her dear friend Charlotte, on hearing news of Elizabeth’s engagement. How she, Elizabeth, had tried to argue, struggled to affirm the faults as all her own and contrived to persuade all cynics of her true affection for Darcy. Her elevation in status from country girl to mistress of Pemberley had the effect, she often felt, of giving others the idea that she had married first for money and second for love. That she should be so misunderstood! What mercenary, feeble minds could think that she could fall in love with fortune? Oh! Such blindness was unforgivable.They had only to look at Darcy to understand her better, for how could she not love him and had not she begun, just a little, to love him before she had found the good sense even to like him.
It was unacceptable to her that others could make the mistake she once had in misunderstanding him. For in every way that his appearance was pleasing Fitzwilliam Darcy was in equal part a genuine spirit. Elizabeth could have designed him no better. He was as handsome as he was good, he stood as tall in stature as he did in sound judgment and his particular tenderness, of which she was the only recipient, astonished her, took her breath away and warmed her heart. No one could think, if they only knew the value of his affections, that the price for her soul could have been paid in pounds. Even ten thousand of them a year was too small a fee for a heart that had proved so hard to win as Elizabeth’s. But think thus skeptical minds will and Mrs. Darcy—how strange and thrilling that new title—wished sometimes that the only fortune she had gained was that of her husband’s love.
But she adored Pemberley; the house so much a reflection of its master; the exact formality of its architecture and the natural freedom of its grounds in every way depicted him. The trees, the streams, and the very earth were steeped in memories of the boy he had been, the air itself seemed to have soaked in the potent essence of his being so that even in his absence a sense of him could be felt. In his presence, the house and the parkland came alive but appeared rested.All was reassuringly safe under his governing eye. It was there, in the grounds that had formed the picturesque backdrop to his boyhood, that Fitzwilliam Darcy had introduced himself again as the man he had become. It was under the old oak that Pemberley first saw its master place a gentle kiss on his wife’s cheek; by the stream she had coaxed his laughter from somewhere deep within and gradually Elizabeth’s own ready laughter had filled the fine rooms. United they were, Elizabeth and Darcy, by love, undeniably, and by being, in equal part, complicated, intelligent creatures who, they both conceded, were well suited, if only because there was no one else who could tolerate either of them so well as they did each other!
It is, however, folly to assume that perfect ingredients make for pictures of perfection.Where the united couple was at first reserved and subtle in any outward show of feeling, the fervor of the bride’s mother provided ample compensation. Fervor of such enormity is best avoided if it cannot be extinguished and in certain cases, where there appears that little would be gained by attempting to induce composure, evasion of the enthusiast is advised.
Mrs. Bennet’s fickleness was never more sharply evident than during this time of excitement. Fortunately, the two faces of her nature never met head on for she might have been humiliated to be put in mind of her former uncharitable opinions of her daughter’s new husband. Six weeks after the wedding had taken place, she was still in the habit of regaling her acquaintances with every detail of how it was she who had first considered Mr. Darcy to be a suitable match for her Lizzy. Although, as she said once in mixed company, “Lizzy did not appear so fond of him in the first instance. I scarcely dare to mention it but I feel I can claim some small credit for maintaining his interest in her. You know, I have always had a genuine affection for the dear man. Indeed, my goodwill was very well received.”
Twenty years and more of marriage had made Mr. Bennet so accustomed to his wife’s capricious tendencies as to respond with no thoughts other than to vex her and he countered his lady’s assertions in his irrevocably distinct style. “Indeed my dear, Mr. Darcy’s admiration and respect for you very near exceed his affection for our own dear Lizzy. Considering the intensity of his feelings for you I am incredulous of the fact that the entire winter has passed and you have, as yet, not received a formal invitation to Pemberley. The Gardiners, of course, have the benefit of every luxury there.”
Mrs. Bennet’s countenance was not so agreeable now. How loathsome the reminder of her exclusion from Darcy’s estate was and how widely known it was that her brother and his wife and their four children had been most graciously favored. Indeed, they had taken almost permanent residency at Pemberley upon the master’s insistence. This was a blissful existence for Mrs. Gardiner and her young family. She was a woman incapable of c
onceiving that even Heaven could be more beautiful than Derbyshire and, as was her lifetime’s habit, delighted in repeated sentimental reminiscences about the nearby village of Lambton where she had spent an idyllic childhood. She and her husband rarely returned to their address of Gracechurch Street in Cheapside, London, when they did it was in order to attend, firsthand and only with eager thoughts of their departure, to Mr. Gardiner’s matters of business.
Mr. Gardiner now had the chance of fishing to his contentment in the streams and lakes on the Pemberley estate, a pastime that had always gladdened him when he had the opportunity of enjoying it. The Gardiners, in similarity to Mrs. Bennet, also professed that their part in the romantic attachment of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had been instrumental.There the similarity ended though for there was truth as a base for the aunt and uncle’s proclamations. For had it not been entirely due to them that their niece had been persuaded to visit Pemberley during their respite in Derbyshire? Mercifully the unflawed manners of Elizabeth’s Aunt and Uncle Gardiner dictated that they were only ever boastful of their achievements in each other’s company.Theirs was a quiet sort of pride.
The youngest Bennet sister Lydia, whose own marriage to George Wickham had only recently preceded her two sisters’ unions, was delighted, outwardly only, that Lizzy should have secured so handsome a husband. But young Mrs. George Wickham was inwardly rankled by an increasing awareness, despite her naivety, of her sister’s good fortune. Elizabeth had indeed married extremely well. Lydia’s own husband’s expertly fashioned gentleman-like manners and good features were little recompense when compared to Darcy’s recommendations in appearance, fortune, and status. Of the latter two attributes, George Wickham was noticeably bereft. Young Mrs. Wickham’s displeasure was further fueled by the absolute belief, despite all history suggesting the opposite, that Elizabeth truly adored her love in a way that was only equaled by Darcy’s undoubted worship, in turn, of her.
It was with reluctance that Lydia renounced her conceited declaration of being the only married Bennet sister so soon after her own nuptials had taken place. To have been obliged to relinquish the brief position of superiority that this afforded her over all four of her siblings caused a good degree of dissatisfaction for her. Lydia’s disposition was partly inherited from her mother and had, in part, been honed by the woman. Misdemeanors, her own, were quickly forgot and she made no reference during reflection to the scandals and improprieties that surrounded her alliance with George Wickham.
She was, as ever, inconsistent in her beliefs and maintained her frivolous outlook on life.With her husband’s regiment quartered in Newcastle she relied upon the post as a means to keep contact with her family, but she did not write often. Unless she could relate tales that would affirm her popularity and promote her hunger for enjoyment then she did not see fit to pick up a pen. She had made a couple of brief visits to both Netherfield and Pemberley whilst Wickham spent some leisure time in Brighton and London. He was as audacious as ever he had been in his attitudes and thought nothing of encouraging his wife to appeal to Elizabeth and Darcy to suggest that their position might be used to the advantage of securing him a respected situation in society. Congenial though they were, neither Mr. nor Mrs. Darcy saw fit to acknowledge the request.
It is disappointing but not at all surprising to learn that not everyone took pleasure in Elizabeth’s ascent in standing to mistress of Pemberley. It was particularly well accounted and widely known that Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was woeful and inconsolable about the union. It had meant the destruction of her hopes, and her dreams, that her own daughter Anne would one day be united with Darcy. The enormity of Lady Catherine’s fury remained constant and her undisguised disdain for Elizabeth and the Bennet family in general was unyielding.That the name of de Bourgh and her personal social standing might risk being marred by what she judged to be an afflicted connection was insupportable to her and she declared quite publicly never to visit Pemberley despite her nephew’s attempt at reconciliation.
“That is if they should deem to insult me with another of their invitations, or intensify their offense with any expectation of being received at Rosings Park.”
Poor Anne de Bourgh remained, by demand as much as by any real malady, as infirm physically as ever she had been, she displayed very credible symptoms of anguish over Darcy’s having been purloined from her by one so insignificant as Elizabeth Bennet, but the magnitude of her torment never once matched the magnitude of her mother’s.
Felicitations from the Collins household were sent to Elizabeth and Darcy with more than a little misgiving. While Charlotte Collins was all gladness, and had no reason to be otherwise, her husband was not so easily persuaded to put forward any heartfelt and genuine blessings to the Darcys. Mr. Collins could not comfortably accept that the previous November Elizabeth Bennet had refused, with untoward obstinacy, to become his wife. There was little recompense to be had after this violent rejection so he contented himself with drawing a picture of Elizabeth as a hard-hearted and difficult girl.As a means to restore his own composure he became entirely persuaded that she would most certainly end a spinster. If he, Mr. Collins, a respectable clergyman, with all his well-contrived charms and affable ways, could not win her regard then it was a certainty, he decided, that no one would.
He had also boasted the advantage of being the sole beneficiary of her family home of Longbourn. But even the glittering prizes of the entailment and the relief and stability the circumstances would have afforded her family were not enticement enough for Elizabeth to betroth herself to him. It had taken Mr. Collins a shockingly short time to steady himself from Elizabeth’s rebuff and his former smugness was reinstated with astounding velocity once his offer of marriage to Charlotte Lucas had been accepted. The foundations of Charlotte’s friendship with Lizzy had the required strength to withstand such a blow. It is true to say that Elizabeth found it an uncomfortable thought that she had no entitlement to her own home whilst her friend had acquired certain rights in connection with her husband. But, as was Lizzy’s nature, she wished them well and what had once been the very important question of the entailment soon became a matter of little consequence to her after her own worthy marriage. Her concerns, indeed her astonishment, on hearing of Charlotte’s engagement came from her own inability to see any desirability in Mr. Collins herself. But she understood that Charlotte was practical before being sentimental and knew only too well that her friend could be satisfied with a marriage state that offered security and respectability even if there was very little else besides to recommend it.
Charlotte Collins was devout to be sure, she made as honorable a wife to a clergyman as could ever be wished for. In addition, she was able to enjoy Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s patronage, though not quite so ardently as did her husband. She soon found herself resignedly content with life at the rectory at Hunsford and accepted, in the grateful way of a woman quite reconciled to not being in love, that the garden, ecclesiastical duties, and their patroness’s demands kept her husband fully occupied.They lived in reasonable style, savoring the social enhancements created by their connection to the high ranks of the de Bourgh family, and had the reassurance that their future was by no means undesigned. Their contentment, however, was short-lived; Lady Catherine’s wrath was unbearable and all beneficent attentions to Mr. Collins were withdrawn once Elizabeth’s engagement to Mr. Darcy became widely known. Lady Catherine’s previous views of Mr. Collins and his wife were dramatically altered by her rage. Her belief that the undesirable Bennet family, including those members of it so distantly associated as Mr. Collins, posed a very real threat to all that was good and principled became more fixed.William Collins and his wife fled Hunsford but as a result of their hasty escape to Lucas Lodge in Hertfordshire an unusual friendship was born.
Familial loyalties dictated that it should fall to the Lucases and the Bennets to each play a part in assisting the rejected clergyman and his wife. Sir William Lucas arranged a carriage—Mr.
Collins’s own much boasted of equipage being too modest for the task of his complete removal. Mrs. Bennet sent Mary to help. Her choice was limited as she now had three daughters married and taken from Longbourn and, although fanciful in nature herself, she deemed Kitty too fragile in composure to be numb to Lady Catherine’s vitriol and derision, so concluded that Mary’s plain looks and predisposition for moralizing and reflection would be least likely to cause offense. And so it was that Mary Bennet, viewing the task as an important personal crusade, accompanied Sir William Lucas and his daughter Maria to Rosings Park.
Lady Catherine would agree to no conversation with either Mr. or Mrs. Collins. Mary, much to her own astonishment, was the appointed mediator, her first undertaking being the examination of an inventory, provided by Lady Catherine, stating quite clearly a brief list of items that were permitted to depart from Hunsford, and an extensive catalogue of those which must be seen to remain. By this means Mary Bennet had assisted in ridding Lady Catherine of the unwanted clergyman and his wife and had therefore inadvertently begun, tentatively at first, a process of redemption.
Lady Catherine, finding herself noticeably afflicted with weakness due to the disagreeable nature of recent events, conceded against her better judgment but in deference to her poor health, to permit Miss Mary Bennet, and the inventory that had been placed in her care, to be brought to Rosings Park. Once informed of the invitation Mary Bennet, seeing the clear implications of such a privilege, set off on the short journey across the lane from the Hunsford Parsonage where she had thus far been accommodated. The completed inventory, which emphasized the importance of the Collinses leaving Hunsford exactly as they had found it, was now complete and to be conveying it to Rosings Park when most everyone else in the world was denied access to the place allowed Mary to indulge in a good deal of self congratulation. But the girl’s expanded mood was soon diminished by her finding Lady Catherine de Bourgh to be a most disconcerting woman to be face to face with. Her discomfort was not made easier when, having been subjected to a more prolonged inspection than the inventory, she was obliged to hear out the woman’s misgivings.