To be certain, I will stay another day, then stop in London as we had discussed before returning to Pemberley. Your father will arrive with Jack at the end of the week and we will get him outfitted properly. I think he will do well at university. I still think it is something of a miracle that he is so like your father after having lived the first thirteen years of his life with Wickham, but I am proud to call him my nephew.
I am including Bennet’s letter here. I still cannot believe our boy is old enough for Eton! Time has gone quickly, has it not?
I miss you greatly and I wish you were here with me now. You know I sleep poorly on my own. Perhaps we should have found a way to make the journey together, though how we could have both been away from the children so long I do not know.
Please know that I miss you dearly, in every conceivable way, and that I look forward to our reunion eagerly.
All my love,
FD
Pemberley, Derbyshire
8 September, 1830
My Dear Husband,
It is probably just as well I did not accompany you, for I am certain I would have been a blubbering mess. I will not disgrace myself by telling you how many times I have cried over the fact that my first child has gone off to school and I will not see him for many months, but suffice it to say it is an embarrassing number.
Elinor is already missing her brother, but it is not enough to stop her from attempting to ride his gelding. James sent word of what she was about and I hurried to the stables to stop her. She is tall for her age, but not nearly tall enough to manage such a beast!
Do you think we shall recognize Bennet when we see him for the winter holiday? He has been growing so rapidly of late. Why do boys go away at such a crucial age? Surely waiting another year or two would be much more sensible.
I found Matilda curled up in his bed yesterday. She misses him already, the poor dear. I have suggested her brothers come for a visit this autumn and that seemed to cheer her. Jane will arrive this afternoon with Jenny and Beatrice. That should go some way to mollifying her.
I have had a letter from Lydia. It was as nonsensical as all her letters are, but she seems to have a suitor. Captain Danvers made a bit of money at sea and if my sister is to be believed, he is enamored of her. When you see my father, could you please get the truth of the matter? I know it would be a relief to my parents were she to leave Longbourn, but at least she is where we may keep an eye on her.
My dear, I have at times thought you overly strict with the children and desired a lighter hand, but seeing what a lackadaisical parent has wrought in my sister makes me grateful for your determination. Lydia will be a thorn in my parents’ sides her entire life, and sadly, it is their own doing.
Lydia also requested more money for Jack, and I have already written to tell her no more will be forthcoming. You have been generous enough as it is, and it is ridiculous for her to ask for more. If she wished for him to have more pocket money, she may give it to him from her own allowance. She still has her settlement, though if my mother is to be believed, she spends every cent of it on hats and lace.
My mother has quite surprised me. I would have thought she would continue cosseting Lydia as she always has, but it would appear even she has her limits. Perhaps she does not like seeing a grown woman behave as an indulged child any more than the rest of us, or perhaps Lydia reminds her uncomfortably of herself. That is what Mary thinks. She sent me a long letter on the subject—three pages, front and back and tightly written, extolling the virtues of restraint and condemning Lydia’s self-indulgent behavior.
Perhaps after so many years of being the only two women in the house, Mary and my mother have shaped one another. Mary is less pedantic, and my mother is more thoughtful and less critical. We may never know for certain, but if my sister is to be believed, having Lydia’s boys in the house has been good for everyone. My mother dotes on them, Mary has something to occupy herself with, and my father finally has someone to teach all his gentlemanly knowledge to. It is all around a good thing, though that was difficult to see when it first began.
I am enclosing Elinor’s letter here. She wishes me to tell you that she misses you already and that she hopes you will not stay away overlong.
Safe travels, my love. You are missed at home and we eagerly await your return.
All my love,
Elizabeth
Darcy House, London
14 September, 1830
My Dear Elizabeth,
I wish you were with me here! Did I mention that in my last letter? If I did, it is still true. Everything is so much easier when you are with me.
Your father and Jack settled in comfortably. We will have to pry your father away from the library when it is time to leave. Jack is properly outfitted for his new school and your father will deliver him thither in three days’ time. I believe he is a good young man and a credit to your family. I am as shocked to be saying such a thing of Wickham’s progeny as you likely are to hear it, but Old Wickham was a good man, so perhaps it is his blood that influences young Jack.
As far as Lydia goes, she told you correctly. Mr. Bennet informed me that a naval captain has been sniffing around her (his words, not mine) for some time now. The man is nearing fifty and desirous of a wife. It might be a good situation for your sister. She would have her own home and be out of your parents’ way, and he has taken a house near Meryton; it would be an easy distance for everyone to visit. The boys would continue on at Longbourn. Your father insists on that, and I agree. I have told him that I will support his decision to keep the boys with him while Lydia begins her new life. She is young enough to have more children, and Jack said in an unguarded moment that he suspects she will have a new family and forget all about him and his brothers and sisters. It is disheartening to see such cynicism in a boy of seventeen, but I understand his feelings.
I assured him that he would always be family, and that he is welcome anytime at Pemberley should he need a respite. I have enjoyed having all the children to stay every summer. And not just because it precludes us from accepting invitations to house parties. I can see you in my mind’s eye, shaking your head and smirking. I truly enjoy the children for their own sake, not only the excuse they provide me.
Jack is excited about this new chapter in his life, and I am hopeful that he will be successful in whatever he should choose. Your father’s tutelage has done a great deal to sharpen his mind. I daresay he will be able to hold his own with the most studious lads at college.
