Fitzwilliam Darcy’s Private Journal Page 3

  I know not what I crave for. However, I do know that all these attributes alone are not enough for me. I hope, I dearly hope that I will someday find a lady who will touch my soul.

  Monday, the 2nd September, 1811

  I paid a visit to Tattersall’s. I had selected a few promising mares beforehand, every one of which, however, to my bitter disappointment proved not quite up to the required standard. I had all but given up the hope of coming across anything suitable today, when towards the very closing of the sales I espied a splendid mare, just the very thing for Georgiana, which pleased me so much that I would have been happy to bid far higher. But Lady Luck was to smile upon me very kindly today and enable me to complete the purchase as satisfactorily as I could ever have wished.

  Then, I was on the point of quitting the premises, well rejoicing at the day’s work, when a voice halloed and cried out my name.

  “Thank God, Darcy!” It was Bingley, beaming sunnily, being ever his convivial self. “I have come in the hope of finding you here! So, this is where you have been hiding yourself from the world!”

  I had to laugh at his turn of phrase.

  “Do not be absurd, Bingley. I have not been hiding anywhere. What nonsense you talk!”

  “Oh, I know, but I have been in search of you this age, at least for the last two hours or so,” said he. “I have been everywhere! I enquired at White’s, Boodle’s and Watier’s. And so did I at Angelo’s, thinking that you might be crossing swords with somebody there. I even visited Gentleman Jackson’s though I do not even know why I did so, because I very well knew that the chance of finding you engaged in an indecorous bout of fisticuffs with anyone was less than infinitesimal. But I was none the wiser for all my pains about your whereabouts, and was nearly obliged to abandon the search, when, suddenly, your alluding to something about a mare for Miss Darcy the other day came back to me. It being Monday, I thought that there was a strong likelihood of your being at Tattersall’s. And here I am! Was it not an excellent piece of deduction on my part!?”

  I could not help smiling at his beaming face.

  “But, how have you fared with the sale?” he continued.

  I told him that I had fared prodigiously well, and asked him to what I owed the honour of his having been thus searching for me for an age.

  “Oh, nothing of any great moment,” he said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, “but, you do recall, do you not, what I was talking of the other day at White’s - my search for an estate? Well, as it happens, Mr Delford, my man of business, had chanced upon a certain property, and during our conversation today, he alluded to it in a totally cursory fashion. As the property in question is only for letting purposes and what I look for is one for purchase, he had had no real intention of mentioning it to me. So, his referral to it was an excellent piece of good luck. Having had quite enough of searching through properties on the market as you know, I urged him to supply me with the details of this property, thinking it might accord me some diversion. It had never crossed my mind to establish myself and my sister as tenants, but when I had read through the details, I found that the estate in question was everything that we wished for. It is called Netherfield Park. How well it sounds! It is only twenty odd miles from London, in which fact, I would wager anything, even Caroline could find no fault. It has a good number of large principal rooms. The parks are good sized, and the stables and all sorts of other points all to my satisfaction. It is indeed a great pity that it is only for letting. However, there is no doubt that I must settle somewhere sooner or later, and this is as good as any property. Well, except Pemberley, of course!”

  “Bingley, you flatter me,” I said.

  “Oh, it is no flattery,” continued Bingley. “It is not every day that one has the good fortune to chance upon a place like Pemberley, nor is it everybody that can afford a Pemberley. And one thing I do know is that I cannot wait forever hankering after a Pemberley but have to be content with what is within my reach. And if something more suitable should come my way any time in the future, I could give it serious consideration then, but till then, I can be easy in mind at last. And, here comes the point. Do you recall your promise to accompany me for the viewing? I am relying on you.”

  “Well, why, yes, I would like it more than anything. But, how come, Bingley, you needed to seek me out so urgently? We shall be in each other’s company only three days hence when we play cards with Sir John Holbrook. Surely, you could have waited till then?”

  “Oh, you know what I am!” answered he. “I wished arrangements to be made for the viewing of this property as soon as possible. Once I hit upon an idea of any sort, I cannot wait. I am devilish impatient. Whatever I do has to be done in a hurry. I am impulsive, hasty, and excitable, whereas you are patient, stoical and disciplined, well, if I may say so, even to a fault! You are prudence impersonified. You possess the poise and sagacity of a man of far more mature age, Darcy! Sometimes I feel as if you were twenty-seven going on fifty! In fact, our characters are at such opposite ends of the spectrum that it is a wonder that we deal so famously together. I have a good suspicion that it is generally agreed among our friends that you have every quality which is strangely lacking in me!”

  I laughed at this. Maybe, Bingley was right. It might well be the difference in our natures that makes him even dearer to me.

  Then, he hurried away, mumbling that he would request Mr Delford’s attendance immediately.

  Thursday, the 5th September, 1811

  I had an interview with Mrs Annesley this morning. She well surpassed my expectation. I had been envisaging a tolerably genteel lady possessed with fair amount of sense and agreeableness. However, one glance was enough to convince me that she was a lady of high cultivation, and a discourse of half an hour’s duration confirmed that she was a lady of exceptional quality.

  I found that she maintained a firm belief that her charge should not be a mere figure to be taken care of as a depository of her duty, but be a figure to be nurtured as a recipient of her true affection more in the nature of that of a mother for a daughter than that of a companion for her charge. She seemed a truly gentle, abundantly loving, infinitely kind and admirably considerate sort of individual. And yet, I could see most importantly that her gentleness, love, kindness and consideration for her charge would not hinder her from knowing how to be strict, too, if and when the occasion should arise.

  Lady Ashbourne had the goodness to ask a few questions both apposite and focused, which, I confess, I could not have conceived in a million years. I was most impressed by her sagacity and was well pleased that I had had the foresight of desiring her presence at the interview.

  It was decided that Mrs Annesley should commence her office upon Michaelmas, and after a few pedestrian but truly heartfelt exchanges of goodwill, and with mutual satisfaction, I hope, we parted company.

  To my expression of profound gratitude for the crucial part she had played in this business, Lady Ashbourne replied that it was a great gratification to her feelings to have been thus able to be of service to her favourite niece. How kind indeed she is!

  In the evening, as we had promised, Sir John, a couple of Sir John’s cronies, Bingley, Addison, Lindass and I made up a table of loo, which game I acknowledge is rather frowned upon as not a little tedious and not quite hazardous enough, and is considered to be not at all the thing for White’s by most of the fashionable ton. However, we did not permit it to disconcert us, and greatly enjoyed the game.

  Bingley had very little luck as is usually the case with him.

  “Darcy, you are a lucky fellow! The goddess of good fortune seems always to smile upon you! Why does she never on me? I am utterly put out!” said he, making a great shew of being offended, but with little success. Even feigning to be ill-tempered is not an easy feat for him.

  “You ought to be thankful,” I said, “that you have seldom been blessed with good fortune in gaming. Otherwise, you might at any time have been tempted to join those who could never refrai
n from taking far too hazardous a risk for their own good, which, in all probability, would have spelt your absolute ruin.”

  Bingley laughed and said, “I will acknowledge that the danger which it might have posed to me could have been dire, but how would it fare in your case? You appear to be wholly capable of repelling all the allurement of taking more hazardous risks, in spite of being frequently a lucky winner. What makes you imagine that I could not maintain a state of stable equilibrium, when you yourself are so equal to the task?”

  “Your nature is totally dissimilar to mine,” I replied. “I have not the easiness of your temper. I am much more inclined to be guarded than you in any situation. The easiness of your temper, the ductility of your disposition, the congeniality of your nature, would all combine to render you much more likely than me to fall prey to some callous, seasoned gamesters, who would stop at nothing for the furtherance of their own inclinations and greed, who would have no sympathy for whatever predicament you might be thrown into, and who would have absolutely no qualm about divesting you of the last penny that you possess. I grant that you are appropriately circumspect now. But that is because you have gathered from your experience that your luck would not hold. However, had you been so fortunate as to achieve a much desired degree of success at the dawn of your gaming career, you could easily have been persuaded that there was nothing to obtrude upon your path to becoming a most successful gamester. The blessing of real good fortune for you, Bingley, was that severe lesson which you received on that first occasion. As a child once burnt would be afraid of fire, so you are afraid of playing deep and never go beyond the compass of your comfort sphere.”

  “Do you know, gentlemen, I think that Darcy is absolutely right!” Bingley cried. “He is a formidable fellow, endowed with far superior ability to penetrate into people’s characters to anybody I know. His power of deduction and logic, his insight into human nature are absolutely awe inspiring. I am so thankful that he is my friend. I would not say this in a loud voice, and I trust that it will not go any farther, but I do declare that he is the last person I would want as my enemy! As he is, he is a capital friend, and he takes prodigious good care of me. Where would I be indeed without him!?”

  We all laughed aloud in concert at this speech of his.

  Bingley is quite right, though. I feel as if he were the younger brother that I never had, and I confess that I do sometimes feel oddly protective of him.

  After the card party had dispersed, Bingley and I had time to have a little conversation in the saloon. He was in good spirits. He had had it from his man of business that the agent for Netherfield Park had intimated that he would be most happy to receive Bingley and me on this Monday coming. So we made an arrangement to the effect that we would depart at the earliest opportunity after breakfast on Monday morning.

  Tuesday, the 10th September, 1811

  Yesterday, Bingley and I visited Netherfield. His chaise and four traversed the distance in a leisurely pace, but still conveyed us there in good time.

  Upon arriving in the vicinity of Netherfield, we found ourselves before the appointed time by the extent of above two hours. We thought it expedient that we should first secure some rooms at an inn for staying the night. We come across a town called Meryton nearby. It was a town of an indifferent size, but the inn that we found there seemed adequate. After all, what could one expect to find in an inconsequential country market town?

  Then, the appointed hour arrived and we were met by a Mr Morris, the owner’s agent, an astute, able looking man of middle age.

  In such cases, it is not prudent to shew one’s willingness too profusely and readily. One ought to leave the other party unsure of one’s intentions, keep them in suspense with regard to the degree of one’s approval. However, Bingley’s enthusiasm was such that it was above my capacity to keep it under regulation.

  As for the house itself, it was a very good one, and the building in immaculate order.

  The main door commanded the imposing stairway, and as one stood in the commodious hall, one could feel the attractive loftiness of the ceiling. The formal drawing room and the dining room were spacious and beautifully decorated, if not with opulence, then with taste, and the informal drawing room, the morning room and the breakfast parlour were also of ample sizes. The Men’s domain - the library, the billiard room, the smoking room and the gun room - was as good as one could wish. Across the length of the south front on the upper floor stretched a handsome long gallery, where, I would assume, the ladies of the house would enjoy taking a turn during inclement weather.

  Outside, the parks were well kept and of good sizes. And as a matter of course, the liberty of a manor is operative in the contractual terms of the lease.

  Bingley was in raptures. Though I had serious doubts regarding the level of refinement found in the residents of such rural confined parts, when he asked for my verdict, I held my peace. As for myself, I could never abide vulgarities or lack of culture in people. However, being well acquainted with Bingley’s easy temper, I knew that he would find anybody and everybody perfectly pleasant and above criticism.

  Thus, Bingley agreed terms with Mr Morris immediately, and was much pleased in the knowledge that he was now master of Netherfield Park.

  When we repaired to the inn for the night, he was most profuse in his praise for everything that we had seen in Netherfield, for Mr Morris and even for the inn and its food. This was exactly how I had predicted his reaction would be. Now nothing was more perfect in Bingley’s eyes than anything connected to Netherfield and the area surrounding it.

  We also talked about the forthcoming dinner party at Lord Wyeford’s, to which both of us had received an invitation. Lord Wyeford, who is one of my godparents, was the most intimate amongst my father’s friends, and I respect and love him as my second father. He regards me as his own son, too, and takes great interest in my welfare. Every time I am in his presence, he sees fit to urge me to take a wife, pronouncing his belief that it is my duty. This is the one piece of advice of his that I find not entirely easy to accept with complete complaisance.

  Friday, the 13th September, 1811

  Lady Wyeford’s dinner party last night.

  I had prearranged to make my way first, well before the stipulated hour for the dinner, to Grosvenor Street, where Bingley has a temporary residence in his brother-in-law’s place, and then for us to proceed together from thence to Wyeford House in Grosvenor Square.

  When we reached Wyeford House, we were shewn up the stairs to the drawing room, where we found the majority of the guests already gathered and making polite conversation.

  Upon seeing me enter the drawing room, Lord Wyeford gave me a fatherly nod. However, I was well aware that nothing would deter him from seeking an opportunity to pounce upon me with yet another lecture on the subject of matrimony sometime during the course of the evening.

  The gathering was only a small affair, of not more than a score of guests. To my astonishment, Lady Grafton was among those invited, and she vouchsafed me a gracious smile, to which I returned a distant bow.

  Not long afterwards, the dinner was announced. Lady Wyeford had the old Earl of Lynton escort her down to the dining room, and the rest of us followed en masse. Lady Grafton took a seat between Bingley and me. With ease and elegance, she engaged us in conversation. It was a sumptuous dinner. Everybody congratulated the hostess and poured forth eulogia upon the quality of the dishes.

  At the conclusion of the dinner, as the final covers were removed and the ladies rose to withdraw to the drawing room and we men stood up, Lady Grafton leant slightly towards me and whispered in a barely audible voice.

  “You ought to know, Darcy, I accepted this invitation because I had heard that you would be of the party.”

  The distinct fragrance of Lady Grafton’s exquisite parfum, which arose as her dress swept the back of my chair, brought memories flooding back, which would have caused me great anguish in those younger days, but now I was only conscious of a v
ery faint stirring of emotion akin to nostalgia.

  When the ladies were gone, the port was passed around and we talked. Lord Wyeford during the first quarter hour executed his office as the host with admirable aplomb, then, he came round to the chair next to me, and embarked upon an assault on me with, “Now, Fitzwilliam, my boy!” I knew what was in store for me.

  “Have you decided to go into matrimony like a good man as I bade you?”

  Upon my remarking to his lordship that that was the one subject on which I, however much I wished it, could not comply with his behest, his lordship answered that it was incumbent on me to marry and prolong my lineage, that it had been my father’s foremost wish and that for me to fail in it would be a most lamentable piece of filial impiety.

  I assured his lordship that I fully intended to do my duty when I met with a lady of my heart’s desire, but that I had not yet had the happiness of encountering any such lady, and begged him to bear with me until such time came.

  “Fiddlesticks!” was his lordship’s rejoinder. “You just chuse one of the young ladies whom I have introduced to you, and have done with it! The nonsensical things that you talk of - love and esteem - such things, depend upon it, will accrue of their own accord once you get married! So many delectable girls I have put your way, all of whom, you will own, have been diamonds of the first water and refined in every respect, and yet, you have shewn no inclination whatsoever towards them. You are a capital boy in any other matter. You indulge and humour me in any whim of mine. But in this, you defy me with mulish stubbornness. I know not what I am to do with you. Well, however, I shall not despair. As even a drip drop of water will accumulate and gain force, eventually wearing out the mighty rock, so will my as yet ineffectual supplications one day take effect, permeating into your obstinate skull. Your better judgement will see the wisdom of my advice in the end.”