Fitzwilliam Darcy’s Private Journal Read online

After a conversation over a glass of capital brandy, which was as usual desultory as the baronet had a way of ever meandering from one subject to another, we removed ourselves to the gaming-room. I at once saw, at the ‘hazard’ table, the Duke of Argyll, Lord Foley, Lord Sefton and Talbot at play with others making up a table of seven.

  “The stake must be very high indeed there. How many lives belonging to the scions of the English nobility have been devastated, at times even resulting in suicides, because of the fortunes lost at these gaming tables?” were my funereal reflections.

  At another, at a much less hazardous card table, I recognised Lord Lindass, Addison and Bellamy. Then, among those of the onlookers, I descried Bingley.

  He at once became aware of my presence in the room, and his amicable face burgeoned into a wide smile.

  “Well, I declare! It is Darcy!” he gave an excited cry, and saluted me with the customary good-humoured flourish of his hand. Then, he immediately left the table and strode towards the baronet and me. “Good Heavens, Darcy! It is really you!” continued he, giving me the jolliest of smiles, a hearty hug, and a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Upon my word, I am prodigiously glad that you are at last returned! I must own that I quite despaired of you! Sir John and I were saying only this morning that we feared London had lost its charm and power to detain you! Were we not, Sir John!?”

  Sir John said that they indeed had been, and that I was a deuced culpable fellow to have disappeared without a word to my friends, which he declared was most certainly a Brobdingnagian crime if he had ever known one. Then, he reminded me of the promise that I should join him at a card table some later date, which, he added, it went without saying would be joined by Bingley as well. As Sir John was to be away from Town for a few days, we fixed the time for the purpose upon the fifth of September, and the baronet took leave of us.

  “Come, Darcy! Let us be seated somewhere and talk over a glass of whatever drink you fancy!” said Bingley, as we watched the bumbling figure of the baronet retreating.

  I returned to the saloon with Bingley. We sat down this time nearer to the Bow Window, which now stood empty, the former occupants having gone. No sooner had we established ourselves in respective chairs than Bingley opened conversation.

  “So, Darcy, old fellow, how have you been? Sir John was absolutely right, you know! You are a deuced culpable fellow! You suddenly disappeared at the beginning of July and have been neither seen nor heard of this age until now. It put us all in a puzzle. I would not go so far as to say that anybody has been worried about you or anything of the sort, for everybody knows that you are a deuced capable fellow who can take care of himself deuced well. All the same, however, it put me a trifle in a miff, if you must know,” said he without, however, even the smallest sign of being really put out.

  Bingley is such a capital fellow. I truly delight in his company and have always been thankful for my good fortune to have gained his friendship. The goodness, openness and chearfulness of his disposition are ever-soothing balm to my nature which is often remarked by many of my friends to have a decided tendency to brood.

  However, nothing could have induced me to divulge to anybody the sacred secret of my sister, and of course, it was utterly improper as well as impossible to take even Bingley into my confidence. Therefore, I could do nothing but be vague about the business if not actually resort to total falsehood.

  “I do beg your pardon, Bingley, but I meant neither slight nor neglect,” I, thus, opened my explanation. “I was obliged to leave London suddenly on some urgent, though trifling, business, and I saw no occasion whatsoever to announce my departure to you or to anybody else, as I deemed it a mere day’s concern and had absolutely no notion that so much time would be requisite. However, the matter took an unexpected turn after I arrived, and I was forced to acknowledge that there was no returning to the capital as expeditiously as I had anticipated. You might think it very unconscionable of me not to have made some communication to you then, but in all honestly, I was easy in my mind upon the assumption that you as well as the others were too busily engaged in the late season activities to mind my absence in any manner.”

  “Well, Darcy, if you put it that way, you were absolutely right,” said he. “I confess that I have been rather unexpectedly preoccupied after a certain Miss Amelia Stanhope was introduced to me at Lady Reading’s soiree.”

  I could not help smiling.

  “Darcy, you smile that mildly-amused, wry smile of yours. I know what you are thinking. You are wondering what has become of Miss Cecilia Bunton, or Lady Daphne St Ives, or Miss Isabella Wallace, or indeed Miss Rosaline Crowe, all of whose beauty I used to extol to the skies. But, Darcy, this Miss Amelia Stanhope, I declare, is really an angel!”

  Bingley is a man of a decided turn for ladies, although, of course, nobody can be further from being a rakehell than he. On the contrary, he is too open, honest and ingenuous to behave in a man-of-the-world fashion, and he wears his heart too much upon his sleeve. He falls ever so often in and out of love that I have genuinely lost count of how many ladies he has declared to me to be angels.

  “When you see her with your own eyes at some ball or party, Darcy, you will, I am totally persuaded, find her utterly divine, too!”

  Thus, Bingley eulogised Miss Amelia Stanhope and our conversation continued in much the same vein until its closure. I was truly relieved that his attention was completely occupied elsewhere, and that I was spared the necessity of evading his questions regarding my absence.

  I returned to Portman Square a little after six o’clock, and telling Wiseman that I would be in my cabinet if he needed me, I retired there to while away the time till my aunt’s arrival. At about a quarter past eight, I was just finishing the above entry to the diary, when her ladyship was announced. Wiseman informed me that Georgiana was returned with her ladyship, and waiting for my joining them in the East Parlour.

  I bade Wiseman tell Lady Ashbourne that I would be along in just a few minutes, and entered the last few lines of the above passage in the diary before returning it to the writing box. I, then, left my cabinet and hurried down to the East Parlour.

  My aunt and Georgiana seemed to be engaged in chearful confabulation while they awaited my appearance. I at once remarked to my utmost satisfaction that Georgiana looked well and appeared to have regained almost full measure of her former radiance.

  Upon my entering the parlour, she leapt from the chair and ran towards me. Putting my arms around her, I laughed and teazed her.

  “Why, Georgiana, you are like a small child! Lady Ashbourne would not countenance such puerile behaviour in you.”

  She blushed a little, but still smiling, nestled into my chest.

  The face of the indulgent aunt beamed.

  “Oh, if she cannot be allowed to be a child in your presence, Darcy,” said her ladyship, “where else can she be? Let her be. She should enjoy it while she can. She will be out within the next couple of years, and once she is out, she will have no choice but to grow up and leave her childhood behind.”

  “Yes, it is as you say, Lady Ashbourne,” I replied. “But first of all, I must thank you. There is no doubt that you have taken excellent care of my sister. Her spirits appear to be greatly recovered and she seems like a different girl from what she was in early July. I hope she behaved well while she was under your protection?”

  “Oh! She is a model child, Darcy,” said her ladyship. “Her nature is so sweet and gentle, and her carriage proper and decorous. I wish my granddaughters would take her example and conduct themselves in a little more ladylike manner. Frederica, as I believe, is but a year younger than Georgiana… or are they of the same age? Yes, I do believe they are! And yet, Frederica is still such a tomboy, and seems bent on behaving in a fashion utterly unbecoming for a lady. Only the other day, I caught her scampering around in the Drawing Room of Ashbourne House with her younger siblings, and with her dog to crown it all! It is one thing to make merry, but it is quite another to act in an
indecorous hoydenish way.”

  I told her ladyship that Frederica was an uncommonly good girl, flawlessly-behaved when necessary, and that there was no occasion whatsoever to worry about her.

  “However, it is not for this that I desired to see you, Darcy,” said she. “I postponed presenting myself on purpose so that I could have a little conversation with you upon the subject which we had been talking of before you went away, to wit, the subject regarding the procurement of a companion for Georgiana. I have found a perfect lady for the office. Her name is Mrs Annesley, and her credentials are impeccable. She is a quondam companion to Lady Hinton’s daughter, Lady Emma. I believe that she was with them for above six years, but Lady Emma has married recently and Mrs Annesley, as I understand, is now seeking another position. Lady Hinton says that she considers herself the most fortunate of mamas to have found such a capital lady for her Emma, which is no mean recommendation, as I can indeed vouch that her ladyship is not, by any stretch of the imagination, the easiest person to please or satisfy. So what is your opinion? If you are so minded, Darcy, I could have deliberations with Lady Hinton and make due arrangements so that you could receive Mrs Annesley for an interview, and if you so wish, I could be present too.”

  I told her ladyship that I was most fervently so minded, and would accept gratefully her offer to be in attendance at the possible forthcoming interview with Mrs Annesley.

  It is my belief that a thing of this nature is far better orchestrated by a female than a male, and although I wished to be one of the party at the interview myself, I felt that my aunt’s presence would not be so welcome as indispensable.

  Her ladyship seemed amply gratified by my ready appreciation of her kind office, and with a promise that she would lose no time in talking to Lady Hinton, she departed.

  Tuesday, 27th August, 1811

  I paid a visit to White’s in the evening and met Bingley again. I joined him on the sofa. Very unlike his usual self, he had a look of slight fatigue, and, though it was barely perceptible and could hardly be so termed, there was something of querulousness about his brows.

  “Is anything amiss, Bingley?” I asked, a little surprised.

  “Ah, Darcy! No, nothing is the matter, really. Only… Well, do you recall my telling you before you left London that, ever since I had reached my majority, I had been meaning to purchase an estate, which my father had not lived to do?”

  I nodded assent and he continued.

  “Well, I have been all this age looking for a suitable property. But, alas, Darcy, I had absolutely no notion that the task would prove to be such a damned bothersome undertaking! It has, if you must know, thrust my nose so far out of joint! I would never have embarked upon such a deuced tiresome venture, had I but had even the slightest suspicion what an onerous ordeal I would have to go through - all the rigmarole of looking through each and every advantage and disadvantage of this and that property! I am, as you know, far from a fastidious fellow, but my sisters are devilish difficult to please! Of all the people living in this world, Darcy, sisters are the most irksome, exacting and meddlesome creatures! I defy anybody to deny it!”

  I laughed at this.

  “Darcy, you laugh, but it is no laughing matter to me,” said he. “They have such strict notions of their own about what one’s house should and should not be that I doubt that I will ever find anything that would gain their approval. There is a great catalogue of things they would insist upon.”

  I asked him what they were.

  “The situation of the manor, the distance from the nearest principal city, the sizes of the nearby towns and villages, the sizes of the parks and what is in them, the direction that the house faces, the number of principal rooms… and so on and on and on, the list goes on forever! And they even try to poke their meddling, damned irksome noses into matters concerning the stables and such, despite the fact that they normally do not shew even the slightest interest in horseflesh! Moreover, if Caroline is in a fair way to be contented, Louisa will raise objections, and if Louisa shows some sign towards approving, it is Caroline’s turn to be most recalcitrant. In all honesty I would not care a smidgen about anything, and in my estimation any property is the same. Had it been left to my own devices, Darcy, I will have you know that I would certainly have taken in a trice the first property that had come my way without the smallest quibble!”

  “Yes, I can well imagine that you would have done so,” I said, “and I can only say that it was fortunate that your sisters were there to prevent you from making a hasty and foolish decision to the great regret and woe of all concerned afterwards.”

  “Well, Darcy, if you put it that way, you are probably right. But someday, I will have to make up my mind without heeding my sisters’ remonstrations or disapprovals. And, that puts a notion in my mind, Darcy. Well, will you… do you think that you could come along with me to look at the place and help me decide, if and when something suitable is put my way? You know how high a regard I have on the strength and soundness of your judgement.”

  “I would be glad to if I could be of any help to you,” I said, and just then, our discourse came to an end with the arrival of some of our friends.

  Friday, the 30th August, 1811

  I dined with Bingley today for the first time in two months. We went to Watier’s. The food was of an excellent quality, as unparalleled as it is reputed to be. Over the long dinner at the club we conversed. The subjects of our discourse were as diverse as the viands proffered to us upon the dining table.

  We talked about his search for an estate, about our respective sisters and about our friends. We talked about shooting, hunting and fishing, and such subjects as gaieties of the ton - balls, dinner parties and card parties - were touched upon, too.

  Then, we talked about horseflesh. Bingley expressed a wish, though not a pressing one, to purchase a team of good carriage horses, preferably Cleveland Bays, sometime in the future, possibly during the winter months when Tattersall’s have more frequent sales. I talked about my plan of procuring a suitable mare for Georgiana, which I consider should be my immediate concern. She is soon to be sixteen years old. It is not before time that she were provided with a proper sized horse rather than the pony that she has been favouring since she was ten years old.

  And as a matter of course, our discourse at one time veered towards Miss Amelia Stanhope, the lady who is the current object of Bingley’s adoration. I found that he had had the honour of standing up with her for two dances on one occasion, had had the felicity of conversing with her on two separate occasions, and that, twice or thrice, while taking the air with her chaperon in her phaeton in Hyde Park and London streets, she had had the goodness to be so condescending as to acknowledge his presence, granting him the blissful opportunity to bow to her.

  “Darcy! I was the happiest man alive!” he ejaculated, brimming with admiration for this lady. “By the by, Darcy, you are a strangest fellow!” continued he. “During these few years I have had the happiness of knowing you, I have never heard you mention a lady’s name in any significant fashion, nor have I ever detected even the slightest partiality towards any lady. Surely, you must have been in love a few times during that time. How can you be so poised and stoical as to be able to guard your secrets so well?”

  I told Bingley that I had never been attached seriously to a lady before, which statement, I must acknowledge, was not entirely true.

  There was a time when I believed myself passionately in love. I was not yet into my majority, nor yet even twenty. Countess Dowager Grafton, the widow of the late fifth Earl of Grafton, took great interest in me. Lady Grafton was still a young lady, no older than twenty-five, in spite of the appellation of ‘Dowager’. She was the most fashionable, the most glamorous and the most acclaimed beauty of the day. She was as witty, piquant and clever as she was beautiful, prepossessing and fascinating. She was seductive and sensuous, and what was more, she was dangerous.

  I was callow in those days. I was immensely flattered. W
hat did a young man barely out of university know about the world of amour? I was swept away by the inflated sense of consequence that I was the chosen one by a lady so illustrious, so captivating and so sought-after. I was engulfed by the overwhelming wave of so far totally unknown carnal passion. I knew not that her faculty, as we made love to each other, remained as sharp, clear, and as coolly undisturbed as a crisp winter’s morning, and that her heart was totally unaffected by any tender emotions or sentiments, whereas mine were in an almost delirious state as if I were in desperate fever.

  My impassioned declaration of love she laughed aside, and pronounced that what we had was nothing but a cursory liaison, hardly to be termed as an ‘affaire de coeur’, and that I should not dwell on such nonsensical romantic notions.

  Our liaison lasted not very many months, at the end of which she became tired of me, and as far as I understood, went on to the next prey, as a vampire would discard a dried up victim without a moment of compassion. I felt as if I were going insane. My own self seemed in my own eyes intolerably and disgustingly immature and pathetic. I had many and many a disturbed night. It was inevitable that the depression of my spirits should come to be noted by my father in the end. I confessed to him everything. To my surprise, he did not become in the least astonished or appalled. He caressed my shoulders and assured me that it was a most natural path for a boy to tread to become a man. Oh, how I was consoled by those words of my father’s!

  It is well over seven years since then, and Lady Grafton is still cutting as ravishing a figure in society as formerly. Of course, it is indeed a very long time since my heart ceased to be hers, and although our paths often meet, I have become so inured and immune to her existence that I feel strangely indifferent to her allurement, oddly detached from her charm. The only emotion that I now have is a pang of pity for my younger self. But nonetheless, I have not met any lady who could surpass the erstwhile image of the lady whose charm and allurement once captivated my imagination so much. The young ladies whom I have had the honour of being acquainted with have all seemed so insipid, so devoid of spirits, though I grant that there are many who not only are handsome but also excel in many fields of accomplishments considered requisite for a lady.