Saturday, December 18, 1813 – Pemberley

Their company was now complete. The Gardiners and Miss Thompson – unaccompanied by her parents who had chosen to spend Christmas with their other children – had arrived yesterday. The Gardiners were accompanied by all their children and the newest Gardiner had enjoyed all the attention and fussing over that any infant of but five months is likely to encounter from his female cousins. That he was insensible of the pleasure he afforded them can only be attributed to his lack of years and did nothing to lessen the pleasure of those who attended him.

Mrs. Bennet had, in company with Mrs. Reynolds and Elizabeth, been given a tour of Pemberley that had reduced her normal volubleness to a bemused awe. That is not to say that she was bereft of speech but certainly her desire to offer suggestions as to appropriate changes to the furnishings were muted and those she did offer were greeted with amused albeit masked tolerance by the other ladies. Suffice it to say that, by the end of the day, even Mrs. Bennet's desire to view the splendours of Pemberley had been exhausted by the number of rooms that she had perforce to view. So tired was that lady, she was required to remove to her room to rest for several hours.

Mrs. Bennet was not alone in her fatigue from the day's activities. As she relaxed in the privacy of her personal sitting room, Elizabeth recalled with relief the meeting with her mother that had, only shortly before, seen that lady – perhaps for the first time – made aware of the consequences of her actions. Elizabeth, with the support of the Gardiners and her father, had spoken to her mother of her concerns about Mrs. Bennet's lack of propriety in public settings. That Mrs. Bennet was quite insensible of what constituted proper behaviour was evidenced - within minutes of Elizabeth broaching the subject - by loud exclamations and protestations denying that she had ever behaved in a way that would offend others. Recalled by Elizabeth to her behaviour at the Netherfield Ball, she disavowed that such behaviour was improper. Neither the comments of the Gardiners not those of her husband were sufficient to cause her to amend her opinion on this matter and her feelings of ill-usage only intensified in their expression the more she was importuned.

Finally, Elizabeth realized that her mother was not open to persuasion on the issue and had recourse to an ultimatum; the threat of being prevented from appearing at the ball to be held on the first day of the new year unless her behaviour was amended, rendered Mrs. Bennet speechless for several minutes. Once she reclaimed the power of expressing herself, those recriminations about to be levied at her daughter were cut short by Elizabeth's command, "Enough!"

Looking directly at her mother, Elizabeth stated clearly and slowly, "You will not be present at the Ball unless…"

Mrs. Bennet's mouth snapped shut. She had never heard any of her daughters speak so to her and she was about to chastise Elizabeth and opened her mouth to do so when she heard her daughter say, "I am mistress of this house and, if you are not prepared to accept my rules, you are not welcome here. Am…I…Understood?!"

Mrs. Bennet was too surprised at the sternness with which Elizabeth spoke to answer and so Elizabeth repeated herself, "Am…I…Understood?!"

Mrs. Bennet finally nodded and Elizabeth continued, albeit in a more moderate tone, "It is unfortunate, Mama, but my experience with the impropriety of your behaviour is such that I am not prepared to expose my guests at the ball to an exhibition which would embarrass my husband or Georgiana or the other members of my husband's family. I will not recount the many instances in which you have embarrassed Jane and myself in public, nor the damage you may have inflicted upon our reputations at various times. I will not dispute the facts with you. I am simply informing you of my concerns. However, I am prepared to offer you the opportunity to demonstrate you can behave with civility and propriety." Gathering her resolve, she continued, "Three days after Christmas we will be hosting a dinner which includes all of the Matlock family – the Earl and Countess, Lord Fitzwilliam and his wife, Lady Frances and her husband and Mr. Fitzwilliam. If you can behave properly that evening, an invitation to the ball will be extended. Again, your continued presence there will depend on your behaviour. I would add that I will expect you to behave properly between now and then." The smile she directed at her mother contained little mirth, "Consider it an opportunity to practice."

The silence in the room was tense as Mrs. Bennet sat, mouth agape, the focus of all eyes – everyone rather anticipating a familiar outburst. Elizabeth could not remember her mother as quiet until she recalled the latter's surprise when her engagement to Darcy had been revealed. Mr. Bennet broke the silence, "Mrs. Bennet, do you comprehend what Lizzy has stated? She is the Mistress of this home and has responsibilities which require her to act with a degree of propriety with which you are not familiar. She cannot have you and I and her sisters expose her and her family, the Darcys, to censure or ridicule. Do you understand?"

Mrs. Bennet reluctantly nodded and Elizabeth sought to appease her slightly, "Mama, Kitty and Mary have both improved greatly by their exposure to more refined society. There will be a number of very eligible young men attending this ball but those men will be more willing to court a young woman with only a small dowry if they can be assured of the propriety of her behaviour and that of her family."

She paused and considered her mother further, "Do you understand what I am offering?"

Mrs. Bennet was oddly thoughtful, "If I behave properly at the dinner with the Matlocks, I can attend the ball."

"That is so."

Mrs. Gardiner interjected, "I will be sitting beside you, Fran, and will help." At Mrs. Bennet's nod, her husband said, "I will be with you also. Now I can see that Lizzy is quite tired and we should allow her to rest."

Mrs. Bennet looked at her second oldest daughter reflectively, saying "Yes, indeed. I admit to being quite exhausted myself." With which she accepted the arm offered by her husband and bustled out of the room followed by the Gardiners, who sent a final commiserating look at Elizabeth before closing the door behind themselves.

Elizabeth had not been left alone for long as her husband, discerning the departure of her company, had quickly joined her. Fully aware of the purpose of the meeting, his raised eyebrow and quizzical look only elicited a tired chuckle from Elizabeth, "All is well, my love. My mother has accepted – most reluctantly I must admit – that she must curb her behaviour. I hope to see an improvement but I will not waver in my determination on this."

"Elizabeth, I would not have you become estranged from your mother over this. I am sure we can all tolerate a little foolishness."

Elizabeth simply shook her head, "The thought that Kitty and Mary could attract more eligible suitors seemed to catch her fancy. Let us hope it is enough. Between Aunt Madeline and father, I hope we can moderate her effusions." With a quick glance at her husband who was hovering and looking at her with an expression she had long ago had come to recognize as desire, she murmured, "Enough of Mama. I would like my tall, handsome husband to…." Before she could finish the thought she had been picked up by Darcy and was being carried to his bedchamber. Thoughts of her mother and her behaviour were banished rapidly and replaced more pleasurably by the loving attentions of a husband.

Tuesday, December 21, 1813 – Pemberley

Mr. Bennet was surprised to receive a letter as Reynolds distributed the post that morning. Putting aside thoughts of his breakfast for a moment, he considered the letter. He recognized the hand that had written it and was undecided whether he wished to disturb his meal by reading it immediately. With some regret he filled his cup with coffee and opened the letter.

Dear Papa,

This may be the hardest letter I have ever written. Before I write any more I would ask for your forgiveness for being such a burden and hurtful to you and my sisters. I know I can never absolve myself of the pain and distress I have caused but I ask for it anyway.

I have been a selfish being all my life. I know that Lizzy, Jane and you have tried to give me good principles and to teach me how to behave in a proper manner but I would not listen. I thought you all fools and could see no reason for your strictures. I was the fool and the price I paid is heavy.

I am with child who will, I am told, be born around June of next year. I have been blessed with a good man as its father. How good I knew not when I met him and it is only as we became acquainted in our travels that I came to esteem and respect him. As I learned to do so my wish to garner his good opinion increased. He has always treated me with kindness and respect. Now I believe I can hope for his esteem as well. He knows of my past and my mistakes. I told him all before we left London. By that time I knew his goodness well enough to not want to burden him with my past should he wish to not bear it. I told him all and he has never spoken of it since and has told me to remember it not.

My thoughts, however, would not leave me in peace. The minister of our local church saw, I suspect, my distress and, gentle soul that he is, did not press me to reveal my problem. He suggested that if I felt I had wronged someone that perhaps asking for their forgiveness would alleviate my distress. This I must do and feel I must also share my past with you if only to help you understand my resolve for my future behaviour as well as to ask for forgiveness from you and my sisters.

My time with Wickham I am sure you know. As well, I am sure that there was a period of 6 weeks or more between Wickham's desertion and my arrival at the home where I was sheltered. Wickham left me at a brothel where I was told I could work or leave. I left penniless and lost and attempted to reach my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner's; however, I was accosted by a man while trying to find a hackney cab and used most foully by him. I was lost, confused, hurt and tired. I could not believe that my aunt and uncle would now accept me into their house. I was forced – and this pains me still – to sell myself to eat. That I did not become diseased is something I cannot fathom even today. God must have been watching over me despite my actions. I was with child but due to my illness, lost the babe. I cannot regret that loss. I could not have provided a decent home for a child – I was one myself. That I was able to stumble into the home where I was eventually found and then be recovered by Mr. Darcy only makes my gratitude greater.

It has taken me many months to understand all that I have done and the reasons for it and the consequences that attend my behaviour. That I am with child now has forced me to consider how I wish that child to be brought up. My husband is such a man as will not permit our child to behave as I did. For this I am most thankful and, as the mother, will do whatever is required to ensure that my daughter, should I have one, is not another Lydia Bennet.

I would wish you to share this letter only with Lizzy and Jane and their husbands. I have sent a separate note to Mama telling her that I am with child and the particulars of our life here. I am sure that it will please her.

For you and my sisters, be comforted that we are well; that I respect and esteem my husband; and that we are building a fine living here in Canada. The war with the United States may have proven a blessing for us since many families were frightened away by the violence. James was able to purchase an excellent farm with a good home for a decent cost. We are improving the property and should be able to live quite well. I have much to learn to be a proper wife – our mother did us no favour by neglecting our instruction – but we have hired an elderly woman who is teaching me all she knows. I have no cause to repine and James seems content with my efforts. I am indeed most fortunate.

I would wish to hear from you and my sisters if you and they could bear to write me. I know I have never been a good correspondent but in this as much else, I am determined to improve.

Your daughter,

Lydia Simpson

He folded the letter and placed it beside his setting before walking to the sideboard to fill his plate with food. For some reason his appetite, healthy when he entered the room, had diminished. The reason he knew well. His guilt over his failure as a father had never borne on him so heavily and sharing Lydia's letter with his other daughters would only add to that burden. That Elizabeth already thought poorly of his past laxity, he had long suspected. Sharing this letter could not but lower him further in her esteem. Nevertheless, it could not be avoided.

When his meal was finished, he went in search of his daughters. Elizabeth was to be found in the study, with her husband, working on the household accounts. Once apprised of the letter, Elizabeth was quick to sent notes to Jane and the Gardiners to join them there and within a quarter hour they all had assembled. With little ceremony Mr. Bennet handed the letter to Elizabeth and, at the request of others, she read it aloud.

Reactions to the recital were mixed and the letter was quickly sought by Jane and Mrs. Gardiner for their closer perusal. The distress that the three women shared was obvious to them all and even Mr. Gardiner and Darcy could not – not did they try to do so – mask their sadness, although both had suspected much of what Lydia had revealed about the previously unexplained portion of her stay in London. Darcy expressed some surprise that he had not heard from James Simpson but allowed that a letter could be expected soon. As he admitted to Elizabeth later, the possibility of acquiring land near where the Simpsons were located appeared promising and he could, if purchases were made, appoint or arrange for Simpson to have the management of them. That, at some point in the future, they might visit the Simpsons if such purchases were made, was implicitly understood between them.

After reading her sister's letter once more, Elizabeth stated her intention of responding directly, an endeavour which both Jane and Mrs. Gardiner agreed to emulate. Mr. Bennet was led to understand that he should do so also and he knew, if he were to be honest with himself, that he must acknowledge his own failures to his daughter and seek her forgiveness. It would not, he admitted, be an easy letter to write but it must be done.

Saturday, December 25, 1813 – Pemberley

It was a boisterous company to be sure. As Elizabeth looked down the dining table to her husband, she could more easily than ever recognize traces of his discomfort with her family, particularly her mother. In contradiction to most seating arrangements, she had seated her mother next to her, with Mrs. Gardiner on her other side and Jane across the table. Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Bennet sat on Darcy's either side with Georgiana, Mary, Kitty and Miss Thompson seated next to each of them, respectively. It was a surprisingly comfortable group and if the volume of chatter was somewhat louder than was customary due to her mother's rather piercing voice, none seemed to take it too much amiss. There were at least three separate conversations taking place at any time and anyone not seated at the table would most assuredly not be able to separate the various threads. Since she could see no signs of distress on any countenance, Elizabeth was not disposed to worry over the matter. Her mother was currently engaged with Jane and Mrs. Gardiner to the exclusion of any topic other than Jane's approaching confinement. That Mrs. Bennet would not be allowed to attend her daughter during the birth had not been vouchsafed to her as yet – it was agreed that this news could wait until the need arose – and the matron was quite happy to consider the soon-to-be arrival of her first grandchild. That pleasure would not be denied her since Jane planned to remain at Pemberley until Elizabeth's confinement. Thus the plans for the Bennet's to depart immediately after the ball were altered and the Bennets would now return with the Gardiners following the arrival of Jane's baby.

As Elizabeth looked down the table, she could not help but recall the dreariness of the previous Christmas. Notwithstanding the company of the Gardiners, there had been little joy in their lives then. Looking at her husband engaged in a serious but obviously absorbing conversation with her father, she was surprised to see him glance up at her quickly as though her own gaze had called him. Her smile was answered by one of his own before he once more let her father demand his attention. Feeling her sister's hand on her arm, she heard Jane murmur, "You are so very lucky Lizzy. He is a very good man."

"Oh Jane, I know that very well indeed. I am…we are singularly blessed in our husbands. Now, if we could only get yours back home, all would be well."

"I admit I miss him greatly. I had hoped he might return before the babe is born but that seems unlikely now. I will simply have to trust in God to keep him safe for me and our child."

"That he will, I have no doubts whatsoever." Elizabeth paused and deliberately tried to turn the conversations to a more pleasant direction. "I must thank you and Kitty for your assistance in decorating the house. I wished to add or merge such of our traditions to those of Pemberley that would be most attractive. I admit to being surprised" and here Elizabeth nodded at Kitty, "at how valuable Kitty's eye for design and colour would turn out to be. Mrs. Reynolds was most impressed and delighted with all of our efforts I assure you."

Kitty, having overheard the latter part of Elizabeth's commendation, blushed becomingly and was quick to declaim any particular contribution. Her efforts were, however, defeated by the praise of Georgiana, Mary and Jane and she was eventually forced to accept the praise which only increased her embarrassment. To spare further damage to Kitty's countenance, Elizabeth encouraged the conversation to meander to other topics.

The next day, following church services, Elizabeth, Darcy and Georgiana removed to the ballroom where the Boxing Day ritual was to be enacted. Mrs. Reynolds, Elizabeth and Georgiana had spent much of the previous fortnight preparing boxes containing gifts and food for their tenants and gifts for the Pemberley staff. This ritual was held every year although in recent times the presence of the Darcy family had been sporadic and a Mistress had not presided for fifteen years or more. Elizabeth could see Mrs. Reynolds' pleasure and pride in the occasion; her smile could barely be contained as she watched the Darcys engage with their tenants and servants. That the latter were happy with the attentions paid them Mrs. Reynolds had no doubt and she had observed more than a few glances of approval directed at Elizabeth; her being obviously with child and thus ensuring the continuation of the Darcy presence was a matter of much satisfaction.

As Elizabeth moved amongst the crowd, she was grateful for the presence of her sister and husband who could recall to her the names of those she met. Indeed, she had met and greeted all of the tenants previously but some she knew but little. Finally, she found a moment to herself and rested by a table still partly laden with food and drink unconsciously placing her hand on her expanding stomach. The ripple she felt caught her by surprise. She had become accustomed to the flutterings of the babe but never had she felt his presence so tangibly and he was continuing to be active. Looking up, she sought her husband's eye and found him across the room already gazing at her with some concern. Her smile and slight beckoning motion drew him to her and within seconds he was beside her asking, "Are you tired? Georgiana and I can remain should you need to rest."

"I am not tired. I felt the babe!"

At her husband's look of incomprehension, she took his hand and placed it on her stomach. The babe remained lively and her husband's delight was obvious as, for the first time, he could feel the life moving in her body. He whispered, "Tis a Christmas present a day late but well worth the wait."