Lady Catherine de Bourgh has expressed her approval of the match, much to my relief, and has generously offered to host the wedding breakfast when they marry next Spring.
I am not sure that I should accept. I feel quite strongly that my daughter should be married from my home. But there is the matter of Lady Catherine's continuing kindness and generosity to her.
It may seem ungracious to refuse, and I am anxious not to upset her ladyship. She has been excessively solicitous and good to Catherine, since the death of Mr Collins.
Dear Eliza, I am very keen to discuss this question with you and have the benefit of your opinion.
Catherine and I look forward to seeing you and Mr Darcy on Saturday.
Yours etc.
Charlotte Collins.
Mr Darcy came into the room just as she had finished the letter, and Elizabeth was so excited telling him Charlotte's news and discussing his Aunt Catherine's amazing generosity that she quite forgot about her second letter.
Darcy was of the opinion that Charlotte should have no compunction in accepting Lady Catherine's offer to host her daughter's wedding at Rosings. "Lady Catherine is very attached to Miss Collins--and since her own daughter is, sadly, an invalid with little or no chance of being married, this is probably an opportunity for her to play a role she has always coveted," he declared. Elizabeth was inclined to agree.
"It is not as if Lucas Lodge is available to Charlotte," she said. "With the deterioration of her relationship with her sister-in-law since Sir William's death, I cannot imagine she would want to approach her."
"Indeed not," said Darcy, "and since they are to continue to live at Hunsford, they may as well be married there." The logic of this argument was so clear that Elizabeth resolved to use it to set Charlotte's mind at rest when she arrived at Pemberley.
On returning to her sitting room, Elizabeth found her second letter, unopened and lying on the floor where it had fallen.
She could not recognise the unfamiliar handwriting, which was quite strange, though not ill-educated. It was also well sealed, in the manner of a confidential communication. When she had it open, the contents--two closely written pages--puzzled her even more. Turning quickly to the last page, she checked the signature, which made no sense at all, since she knew no one by that name.
However, on reading the letter, Elizabeth was so astonished at the news it contained that she had to read it over again.
The writer, a Mrs Brewerton from Norwich, was writing, she claimed, on behalf of Mrs Lydia Wickham, who was too distraught to put pen to paper.
The writer, identifying herself as "a neighbour and family friend of the Wickhams," wrote that Mr Wickham had been seriously injured in an attack upon him by a former officer of his regiment. Though she seemed reluctant to give any details, it appeared that the assailant had borne a grudge, which he had carried with him for some years, and on meeting
While Mrs Brewerton appeared to be quite sympathetic towards Lydia and her children, she did not seem to waste any of her concern on Wickham himself, leaving the impression that the punishment meted out to him may have been well deserved.
We are all very shocked and sorry for poor Mrs Wickham, who is quite bereft. I have taken the liberty of writing to you, Mrs Darcy, because I am aware she has no parents to help her and only fair weather friends, who may buzz around her socially, but are unlikely to be of much help at such a time as this.
Wrote Mrs Brewerton, who seemed particularly well informed about the state of the Wickhams' domestic and financial affairs.
Elizabeth sighed. No doubt, she thought, Lydia, with her usual lack of discretion, must have regaled her neighbour with all the details.
Shocked and embarrassed, for she had a fair notion of the reason for the attack on Wickham, she hurried out to find Darcy. When she found him in the gallery, she also found herself somewhat tongue-tied and had to be satisfied with handing him Mrs Brewerton's letter with very little explanation-- so mortified was she by the situation.
Darcy had to read the letter through twice before the full import of the words sank in.
Watching him, Elizabeth saw expressions of bewilderment, anger, and exasperation chase each other across his countenance. The look of resignation that finally settled upon it suggested that nothing he heard about the Wickhams surprised him any more.
When he finally handed it back to her, Elizabeth asked, reluctantly, if there was anything that could be done.
Darcy shrugged his shoulders, and replied, "Probably not, and even if there were, intervention by us may not be welcome. Wickham has always had a degree of arrogance quite out of proportion to his capacity. He may well resent an offer of assistance. In any event, we do not know who his assailant was and how the attack came about."
Elizabeth was silent, not knowing how to respond, as he went on, "However, it seems to me your sister Lydia and her children may need some help while he spends the next few weeks in bed!"
Elizabeth, who over the years had never failed to marvel at Darcy's generosity to the undeserving and frequently ungrateful Wickhams, wondered aloud how she could help Lydia--especially in view of the celebrations at Pemberley, which would occupy most of her time.
Darcy was quick to reassure her, "You need not worry about it, Lizzie. I shall send young Hobbs over to Norwich with some money. Perhaps you could write a note in reply to this Mrs Brewerton and one to Lydia, which he could take with him.
"I shall ask Hobbs to make some discreet enquiries about the circumstances of this assault. Wickham may well have brought it upon himself--he has always had a reckless streak. I cannot believe it was entirely unprovoked."
Elizabeth hastened to agree and thanked him for what he proposed to do. "I'm sure you are right. Wickham has probably failed to pay a debt or outraged this man in some way," she said.
"Whatever the cause, Lydia and the children cannot be left to the charity of neighbours," he said and went away to find Hobbs, having both agreed that they would not speak of this matter to anyone but Jane and the Gardiners.
Later that night, as they prepared for bed, Elizabeth thanked her husband again. "It is truly kind of you to help them, dearest; I am sure they do not deserve it."
Darcy sighed, "I know they do not, my dear, but the children are hardly to blame for the stupidity of their parents. Moreover, whatever I do is for you, Lizzie, for your peace of mind; you know that to be true, do you not?"
"I certainly do, but I know also that your generous heart discounts the hurt that you have suffered at the hands of this wilful, incorrigible couple, and you continue to help them. I am grateful and I, too, worry about her children, I do not deny it; but Darcy, I am so ashamed..." Her voice broke, and she wept.
He would not let her continue, putting his arms around her. He was very gentle but firm. "My dear Lizzie, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Wickham and Lydia are as far removed from you as they could possibly be. You are not responsible for them and need never apologise on their behalf. I cannot forget
that it was my reluctance to speak out and expose his true character that permitted Wickham to present himself to you and all of your acquaintances in Hertfordshire as he did. Had I done what I should have and the truth were known, your sister's disastrous elopement may never have happened."
With her knowledge of Lydia, Elizabeth was not quite so sure, but said nothing as he continued.
"While I have no desire whatsoever to meet Wickham, and will avoid any dealings with him, I shall do whatever I can to help your sister and her children. I realise that they would be in a parlous state indeed without some help from her family. He appears to remain as wasteful and feckless as he always was, and her lack of understanding compounds their problems.
"Lizzie, I have spoken of this to your uncle, Mr Gardiner, and he agrees with me. Indeed, he helps Lydia quite regularly," he said, hoping to comfort and reassure her. As she had often done in the past, she accepted his judgement and was content.
The following day, on a mild Autumn morning, the Bingleys arrived, early as usual. While the gentlemen were out talking to Darcy's manager, Mr Grantham, Elizabeth took Jane upstairs and showed her Mrs Brewerton's letter.
Jane was even more shocked than her sister had been.
"Oh! Lizzie, how could he be so reckless, so lacking in self-control?" she cried, even as she agreed that some help had to be sent to Lydia and the children. Jane would, as she had done many times before, send Lydia some money out of her own income.
When Elizabeth explained what Darcy had done, she praised his generosity. "Lizzie, to think that for a while we actually believed all the vicious lies that Mr Wickham told about Darcy--and yet he is such a good man. We must surely have been blind!"
Elizabeth had the grace to blush even after all these years.
"We were--at least I was, Jane, blinded by prejudice and my desire to believe what Wickham, who was flattering me at every turn, was saying about Mr Darcy, who had hurt my vanity. I well recall that you were never so quick to condemn him."
Jane would not let her sister blame herself alone, reminding her that all of Meryton had been taken in by Wickham's guile.
As they wandered downstairs and out into the garden, where a large marquee was being erected on the west lawn, Jane took a letter out of her reticule and thrust it into Elizabeth's hand.
"Lizzie, I am very sorry, but Emma will not be able to join us this evening. She is very disappointed, but it seems Mr Wilson cannot make the time--he is too busy with Parliamentary business to get away."
Hurt and surprised, Elizabeth opened and read the letter, written in Emma's pretty round hand.
My dearest Mama
, she wrote:
I am uncertain if Mr Wilson will be free to accompany us to Pemberley for Julian's birthday party; he has urgent business at Westminster, and since he will not hear of my travelling alone--even with my maid--I may not be able to attend, either.
Please do make my excuses to dear Aunt Lizzie and apologise to Richard and Cassy for me. I am truly sorry to miss little Lizzie's christening on Sunday!
I had been looking forward to it so much, but I'm afraid I cannot see a way in which it can be done--unless I were to disguise myself as a post boy and hide away on the mail coach! I jest, of course, but only to hide my disappointment. Victoria and Stephanie are disappointed too.
I hope you will enjoy yourselves hugely. I shall be thinking of you every minute of the day and wishing I were there with you.
Your loving daughter,
Emma.
"Dearest Jane, I can see there is something wrong. What have you been keeping from me? Is Emma not happy in her marriage?"
At first, Jane seemed unable to speak. She was silent, but though there were no words, her eyes spoke volumes--showing pain and hurt.
Elizabeth took her aside, into a quiet grove, where they were well protected from interruption, and sat her down.
"Now Jane, I cannot bear to see you so unhappy and continue in ignorance. I must know if our dear Emma has a problem. Please, tell me what is wrong? Can we help in any way?"
Jane's eyes were filled with tears, and when her sister embraced her, the pent up feelings, the fears and anxieties, which she had shared with no one, not even her beloved Bingley, poured out.
As Elizabeth listened, unable at first to say a word so stunned was she by what she was hearing, Jane told of her daughter's unhappy marriage.
It seemed that Mr David Wilson had turned out to be both a jealous, domineering husband and an ambitious politician--a combination devoutly to be avoided.
As Jane told it, Emma had not been married long before she had felt the weight of both conditions; and yet, she had said nothing for years. "Lizzie, I cannot tell you how much I have suffered since she has told me what her life is like. She is careful not to let him find out that she speaks of it to me, lest he should become so enraged that he would forbid her to visit us. I cannot even speak of it to Bingley because Emma does not want her father to know. It would kill him to discover how unhappy she is.
"Yet, I have known since last Easter when she came to us while her husband was away in Europe. Lizzie, she would be totally miserable were it not for her two girls. Victoria and Stephanie are her only consolation. She lives for them."
Jane could hide her grief no longer. "Oh Lizzie," she sobbed, "I cannot think why this should have happened to our dear, beautiful Emma."
Elizabeth could hardly believe her ears. Even as she tried to console her sister, she could not understand how she could have hidden her sorrow and that of her daughter all these months.
The sound of a carriage coming up the drive heralded the arrival of more guests, and the sisters had to postpone the rest of their discussion. Moving towards the house, they saw it was Richard and Cassandra, with their children. Elizabeth hurried towards them and Jane, following slowly, could not help envying their joy.
Seeing the delight on all their faces as they alighted and embraced Darcy and Elizabeth and watching the carefree children run out onto the lawn almost broke her heart as she remembered her daughter, alone in London but for her two little girls and a houseful of servants.
Once everyone had exchanged greetings--some twice over--Cassandra and Richard brought their two boys, Edward and Darcy, over to meet Jane. They were both lively and affectionate children.
"We felt Elizabeth Jane was a little too young to come to the party tonight," Cassy explained, promising that her little daughter would be ready to appear at her christening tomorrow.
Richard was clearly proud of his two sons. Jane expressed surprise at how much they had grown since their last meeting. They were certainly good looking and well behaved children, and their parents beamed with pleasure as Jane hugged them both. Seeing their happiness, Jane fought to hold back her tears.
Why, she wondered, had her Emma not married someone safe and kind like Richard, instead of the ambitious Mr David Wilson. It had been considered a great match, at the time.