Janeicillin Delay

Due to circumstances beyond my control, I was unable to finish this week's dose of Janeicillin on time. Sorry for the delay, but I will post it tomorrow, so please come back then. There is a good chance that my schedule will be off throughout the next month while we move, but just bear with me things should return to normal in June. Until tomorrow!

Everyone is a winner...

That is, everyone who entered. As there were only two participants in this, my final giveaway, I have decided to give both Giada M and Luthien84 a copy of First Impressions. They have been constant participants and deserve reward. So I only had to draw a name for The Darcy Cousins by Monica Fairview, and the winner is:

Giada M

Congratulations! I will get in touch with both you and Luthien84 via email in order to learn you mailing addresses. Thank you to everyone who has participated in the giveaways over the last month. It has been delightful.

Now, let's talk about Miss Darcy.

Georgiana, during the course of a carriage ride to Rosings, listens as her obviously infatuated brother enumerates the many problems in seeking Elizabeth Bennet's hand in marriage in growing frustration. Boldly, she questions his hesitation, making several arguments against delay. They are (roughly) as follows:

1) Anyone whom Mr. Darcy loves must be extraordinary

2) The very nature of the trip to Rosings reveals the extent of Mr. Darcy's attachment

3) A lady like Elizabeth will not be available for indefinitely - other men will want to marry her.

4) Such hesitation is an insult to Elizabeth

5) Hertfordshire is situated at a great distance from Derbyshire

Here is the passage. Enjoy!

            Rain pummelled the carriage as it departed London for Rosings, rendering the ride slow and dreary, but Mr. Darcy kept his sister well entertained by honoring her request to share every detail of his interactions with the extraordinary woman he had met in Hertfordshire. Unfortunately, in order for the account to be complete, it necessitated the inclusion of George Wickham, for he might never have declared his regard for Elizabeth Bennet had that man not made such an unwelcome appearance. He hesitated to mention him but recognized that if Georgiana faced the possibility of finding herself in the same neighborhood as Wickham, say for a wedding, perhaps, she best be forewarned. Georgiana took the news quietly, after several thoughtful moments eventually musing, “Perhaps then he has finally done some good in the world, if he helped you recognize your feelings.”

            Darcy was proud and touched by her charitable response, but deemed it best to steer the conversation back towards more pleasant topics, “Does that mean I have your approval of the lady I have described?”

            Eagerly forsaking thoughts of Wickham, Georgiana reviewed the details she had gathered on Elizabeth Bennet. Though they had never met, she felt instantly enamored with the woman who had such an astonishing effect on her brother, rendering him very nearly giddy. It had been many years since he had been so jovial – how could she not approve? Furthermore, she had always dreaded the idea of Darcy marrying one of the many Miss Bingley's who inhabited their world and a Miss Bingley seemed to be precisely what Miss Bennet was not.

            “Oh most assuredly Fitzwilliam.” She leaned forward and asked quietly, with an air of secrecy, “Did she really walk three miles in mud to attend her sick sister?”

            “She most certainly did and, it must be acknowledged, looked positively delightful upon arrival,” he smiled at the remembrance. “That does not mean that you should take to any similar notion should I ever fall ill. Sisterly devotion does not justify her behavior – she should not have proceeded thusly though, I cannot deny, I am awfully glad she did.”

            “Well I think she sounds like a delightful lady, muddy petticoats and all. Of course, anyone upon whom you could bestow your love must be worthy.”

            “I feared you might disapprove of her social status."

            "You happiness is paramount with me, Brother."

            "Miss Bingley just recently regaled me with the many horrors to be borne by an unmarried lady whose brother marries into the Bennet family.” He frowned and said quietly, “They certainly can be an unnerving clan.”

            “But you do intend to ask for her hand?” Georgiana ventured.

            “I certainly believe I will, though I have no intention of yet broaching the subject with Aunt Catherine. When I depict her for you, her family and circumstances seem insignificant obstacles: the mere backdrop to a comic theatric. It is in their company that I  wonder what foolishness this is I am entertaining. But then Miss Elizabeth walks into the room and I have eyes and ears for no one else. What is a man to do?”

            “If you have so many doubts Fitzwilliam, than what madness is this that we pursue – rushing off to Rosings to put an end, once and for all, to Aunt Catherine's matrimonial ambitions? And on behalf of her rector, a man your profess to be adverse to, but whom you indulge for no reason whatsoever other than his relationship to a lady of unsuitable background?“

            Darcy gave what for him was a sheepish smile, “I do not believe I ever used the word unsuitable.”

            “Then why do you hesitate? Never have I observed a lady to have near this effect on you. I have longed for a sister such as you describe. If she is really as wonderful as you say, certainly she will not wait forever for you to make up your mind. She has a duty, after all, especially when one considers her familial circumstances, to marry well. She must find it rather insulting that you look so far down upon her relations; do you really believe she will remain available once another man has expressed his interest?” Georgiana had never spoken to her brother so forcibly and was surprised he did not seem to mind, let alone not call an immediate end to the conversation, as she had feared.

            “Miss Elizabeth seeks not a mercenary marriage,” he replied with a slightest tinge of petulant indignation. “She wants what I do, a loving relationship. Were she able to find one in Hertfordshire, I have no doubt she would already be married. And indeed, she feels much the same about her relations as I do. The poor woman has been suffering their company all her life and I assure you, she is often mortified by it.”

            The vehemence of his defense only served to convince Georgiana that he had better hurry up and marry the lady. She breathed deeply before proceeding: “Then why not rescue her from her predicament?”

            Darcy sighed, “Would marriage rescue her? When you stretch an arm towards a drowning man, the odds are you shall soon both be floundering in the water.”

            “But we live in Derbyshire, they in Hertfordshire!” Georgiana was beginning to feel exasperated with her brother. “Surely you would rarely see her family.”

            “There is truth in that,” he mused reflectively. “When did you become such a wise young lady?”

            “I have had the benefit of my brother's excellent example to guide me.” They shared a loving smile and the conversation ceased, both siblings consumed with their own thoughts for the remainder of the journey.

The Lusty Month of May

May has always been one of my favorite months. In recent years, my husband and I have developed a consistent routine for its commemoration: each May begins with our annual Kentucky Derby party (my husband's family is from Louisville, Kentucky, where Derby is a month long celebration, on par with Christmas in its completely penetrating atmosphere - Congratulations Super Saver!), and ends with our anniversary, when we always travel. Until this year, that is, for this is the years of the house - the great move is finally about to commence, which means no Derby party and no vacation. But I will not mourn this loss of events I look forward to all year, for I am about to move into a fabulous house I absolutely adore with my best friend in the world, who is soon to be my husband of six years. Consequently, this May is going to be insanely busy. I am sorry to predict that my blogs post are likely to be less frequent in the coming weeks. I will do my best to stay on top of Janeicillin and reviews, but their appearances are likely to be a bit irregular. Bear with me through the move and June should see this blog return to normalcy.

So between our first house, the approaching anniversary, and the effects of the season, my mind is much on love and romance. Of course, regular Austen consumption leads a reader to frequently dwell on such topics - her novels are like manna to the romantic sensibility - but, as in everything, the great authoress preaches moderation: perfect happiness must be countered by doses of reality, examples must be made of unhappy marriages, and pragmatic (or even mercenary) perspectives must be indulged. I can think of only two Austen ladies who actually voice the last, and while they are wildly different creatures, the sentiment is expressed remarkably similar (and cynical). The first is Charlotte Lucas ...

I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if she were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar before-hand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always contrive to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.

... and the second, Mary Crawford ...

With all due respect to such of the present company as chance to be married, my dear Mrs. Grant, there is not one in a hundred of either sex who is not taken in when they marry. Look where I will, I see that it is so; and I feel that it must be so, when I consider that it is, of all transactions, the one in which people expect most from others, and are least honest themselves.

I have been quite focused on Mansfield Park lately, and when I came across this quote again it struck me, for the first time, how similar it is to Charlotte's views on marriage. Both ladies recognize how liable people are to misrepresentation: in a society where conversation and social interaction are so rigid, and marriage is of such vital importance to a woman's happiness, how many people weren't "taken in" they married? My husband and I dated for six years before we married. Being the child of parents who married three months after they met and were divorced not long thereafter, I didn't want to leave "happiness in marriage ... entirely to chance"; I wanted to be sure I was marrying the right person. This is not a liberty typically allowed the Regency lady - not everyone has a Mr. Darcy to send running across the country on a quest to restore the familial honor as proof of character. This serves as a very useful reminder to myself that, while I might dream of elaborately tied cravats, carriage rides, and ballroom banter, it is wonderfully liberating to be a modern woman and free to form my own path to happiness rather than have that of someone else (be it a Mrs. Bennet, a Sir Thomas, a Lady Catherine, or a General Tilney) imposed upon me. I am in a mood to be thankful right now, recent events having reminded me how remarkably fortunate I am, both for the blessings of modern life in a liberated society and to Austen, for teaching me to appreciate them.

Images borrowed:  
Lucy Scott as Charlotte Lucas - Jewellery etc 
Embeth Davidtz as Mary Crawford - Jane Austen Today

First Impressions and The Darcy Cousins Giveaway

On this last day of April, I am offering one last giveaway in honor of the release of my first book, First Impressions: A Tale of Less Pride and Prejudice. Over the past month, these giveaways have revealed all kinds of information about the book: secrets I had jealously guarded until now. Earlier this week, I introduced my Georgiana, a rather outspoken young lady, who becomes her brother's confidant as he struggles with his feelings for Elizabeth. So my last question, calling upon all your faculties for conjecture, is if you were Georgiana, what arguments would you employ to convince Mr. Darcy to pursue Elizabeth?  I used five, and each you can correctly guess will gain you an entry, as will tweeting or posting about this giveaway (please be sure to let me know if you do so!). Please keep in mind that in my story, there is no rejected proposal at Hunsford, so Darcy has not had the benefit of Elizabeth's perspective on his concerns. Leave your comments, including your email address, before 12:00 AM EST on Wednesday, the 5th of May for a chance to win either a signed copy of First Impressions, or my second copy of The Darcy Cousins by Monica Fairview, which I accidentally added to my cart in my excitement to order this book. I reviewed it earlier this week (read the post here) and found it highly satisfying. This is the descrption from Amazon:

A young lady in disgrace should at least strive to behave with decorum...

Dispatched from America to England under a cloud of scandal, Mr. Darcy's incorrigible American cousin, Clarissa Darcy, manages to provoke Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Mr. Collins, and the parishioners of Hunsford all in one morning!

And there are more surprises in store for that bastion of tradition, Rosings Park, when the family gathers for their annual Easter visit. Georgiana Darcy, generally a shy model of propriety, decides to take a few lessons from her unconventional cousin, to the delight of a neighboring gentleman. Anne de Bourgh, encouraged to escape her "keeper" Mrs. Jenkinson, simply...vanishes. But the trouble really starts when Clarissa and Georgiana both set out to win the heart of the same young man...

Thank you to everyone who has participated in these giveaways and good luck to this week's entrants. As always, I look eagerly forward to reading your comments!

Villette by Charlotte Bronte

It was with both joy and trepidation that I opened my very well-worn copy of Villette, the same one I first devoured in an eleventh grade English class. I have always written in my books, at least those I read in school, and the text is covered in enthusiastic exclamations, all made with the same black pen (it used to be my habit to use one pen, and one pen only, until it ran out of ink). To my teenage mind, Villette was the greatest book ever written. Ever since I have readily included it amongst my favorites, but I haven't read it in fifteen years, only now having the excuse to do so as part of the All About the Brontes Challenge, hosted by Laura's Reviews.


Since the age of sixteen, my tastes and habit have altered somewhat drastically. I often liken myself at the time to Marianne Dashwood - passionate, romantic, and prone to melodramatic displays.  Villette thrilled my teenage sensibilities, but I wondered if my adult sense could revel in such abject misery as I clearly remembered this book to contain. I think my anxiety reasonable, especially in light of my having already discovered that neither Jane Eyre nor Wuthering Heights move me as they once did, but it proved needless. While Villette no longer (thankfully) caused my emotions to plummet into those glorious depths of despair I once relished, it still awed me, perhaps more than ever, for it it one of the most beautifully written books it has ever been my privilege to read.


In many ways, Villette is a book of "sense and sensibility", here termed "Reason" and either "Feeling" or "Hope", which are at war within our heroine, Lucy Snowe. Like Marianne determines to "enter on a course of serious study", as a means of regulating her mind, Lucy employs similar methods to calm her fevered mind, doing her best to check her repressed, passionate nature, but to no avail:

I tried different expedients to sustain and fulfill existence: I commenced an elaborate piece of lace-work, I studied German pretty hard, I undertook a course of regular reading of the driest and thickest books in the library; in all my efforts I was as orthodox as I knew how to be. Was there error somewhere? Very likely. I only know the result was as if I had gnawed a file to satisfy hunger, or drank brine to quench thirst.

Similar to Jane Eyre, Lucy Snowe has a fiery personality that is forced into restraint by her extremely restricted circumstances. She mourns the loss of all her family (in a manner never detailed) with very few pleasures to ease her pain. The demands of existence, when most pressing, allow her to act as she must for survival, but when left without occupation her mind reveals how diseased it is. The modern reader instantly recognizes in Lucy a woman suffering from severe depression. Indeed, Bronte is remarkably current in her portrayal of mental illness, her depiction at times resembling that of Sylvia Plath's in The Bell Jar, and the symptoms corresponding precisely to those listed in the DSM (I could so easily turn this post into a very long essay on psychology, which would fit very well with my discussion of physiognomy in my review of The Professor, but as I didn't get much positive feedback on that diatribe, I will spare you further musing along such lines now):

Indeed there was no way to keep well under the circumstances. At last a day and night of peculiarly agonizing depression were succeeded by physical illness, I took perforce to my bed. About this time the Indian summer closed and the equinoctial storms began; and for nine dark and wet days, of which the Hours rushed on all turbulent, deaf, disheveled - bewildered with sounding hurricane - I lay in a strange fever of the nerves and blood. Sleep went quite away. I used to rise in the night, look round for her, beseech her earnestly to return. A rattle of the window, a cry of the blast only replied - Sleep never came!

Lucy suffers throughout this book, her difficult existence only lightened by small tastes of happiness, which are inevitably snatched from her. When we examine Bronte's biography, this dismal world view begins to make sense. Villette was written shortly after the loss of her almost her entire family, Branwell, Emily, and Anne, between September of 1848 and May of 1849. Like Lucy, Charlotte was left alone and isolated with her grief. It is easy to understand why such a morbid novel was written under these circumstances, and all I can conclude is that there is a great deal of merit to the notion that great suffering produces great art. Pain oozes from this book's pages, the emotion alive and raw. Rereading Villette has caused me to better understand Bronte's famous criticisms of Austen. Sneeringly she wrote:

I have likewise read one of Miss Austen's works, Emma -- read it with interest and with just the degree of admiration which Miss Austen herself would have thought sensible and suitable -- anything like warmth or enthusiasm, anything energetic, poignant, or heartfelt, is utterly out of place in commending these works: all such demonstrations the authoress would have met with a well bred sneer, would have calmly scorned as outré and extravagant. She does her business of delineating the surface of the lives of genteel English people curiously well; there is a Chinese fidelity, a miniature delicacy in the painting: she ruffles her reader by nothing vehement, disturbs him by nothing profound: the Passions are perfectly unknown to her; she rejects even a speaking acquaintance with that stormy Sisterhood; even to the Feelings she vouchsafes no more than an occasional graceful but distant recognition; too frequent converse with them would ruffle the smooth elegance of her progress.

When compared to Bronte's masochistic suffering, Austen may indeed appear passionless. Is  this not an extension of the sense verses sensibility debate? Austen, just like Elinor Dashwood, would have smiled at Bronte's observations, content in her knowledge that she is very well-acquainted with "the stormy Sisterhood", but need not impose her internal, private torments on others. Bronte, like Marianne, would have railed against such stoicism: "Cold-hearted Elinor! Oh! worse than cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise." Both authors confronted their fair share of life's torments and dealt with such trials according to their individual creeds: sense and reason on the one side, sensibility and feeling on the other. While I am overcome by admiration for Bronte's genius, I think Austen's approach a better prescription for happiness. In Persuasion, Anne Elliot observes that "it was the misfortune of poetry to be seldom safely enjoyed by those who enjoyed it completely; and that the strong feelings which alone could estimate it truly were the very feelings which ought to taste it but sparingly." Villette is just such poetry, safest when admired from a distance.  If a teenage girl of similar disposition to myself asked me if I would recommend this book, I would hesitate before doing so. Austen is much safer reading for the Mariannes of the world.




Read my other All About the Brontes reviews:


The Tenent of Wildfell Hall


The Professor

Pride and Prejudice Janeicillin: Part Four

Read Part One, Part Two, Part Three.

“Wickham! Oh Wickham! Wake up!”

The screech of his wife’s voice broke upon his pounding skull, which felt as if it were being crushed by a vise. He groaned and pulled a pillow over his aching head, struggling in vein to block out Lydia’s far from dulcet tones.

“George!” she cried, grabbing the pillow away. “You must rise at once, for I have just received the most astounding news. You shall never believe what has happened!”

He blinked, the light sending a sharp stab into his temple. Moaning slightly he sat half up, glaring at the excited countenance before him, “Do you have any idea what time I retired?”

“Well after myself, I know, but whose fault is that if not your own? I have the most amazing news from Longbourn!”

Having been married long enough to know that Lydia’s whims were not to be thwarted without a good deal of exertion, he resigned himself to consciousness. “At least bring me some water before you spew your gossip. I’m terribly parched.”

For once obedient, Lydia quickly poured a glass from the jug on the mantle and brought it to her husband, spilling a few drops as she plopped herself down on the edge of the bed. Wickham added a few splashes from the flask on the nightstand before drinking deeply. “Now,” he said once the draft was drained, settling himself back against the bedding, “I will listen to your news from Longbourn. You haven’t heard from your mother since Jane’s engagement.”

“Indeed I have not. I am very surprised. I would have thought Mama would have immediately informed me of events, or Lizzy herself, but instead it has been weeks since I have heard from anyone in Hertfordshire and now am only to find out because Kitty, who really must have all the time in the world, penned me a single hasty page.” She flourished the offending letter, pouting pettishly all the while.

“Please, Lydia, just tell me what she said.”

Her smile returned, “You shan’t believe it, not in one hundred years. I never dreamed there was any attachment between them, and Kitty is quite vehement about the fact that this is a marriage of affection. What a shame we cannot be there.”

He knew that it was not Lydia’s intention to build suspense by speaking in such a vague manner, but that she really was just flutter brained. If he were ever to bring an end to this inconvenient conversation, he must coax her into coherence. “Who is getting married now, my dear?”

“Why, Lizzy of course. Did I not just say so? What is astounding is the name of the bridegroom.”

Wickham felt a sinking sensation in his gut. It couldn’t be. Ignoring the pain in his head, he bolted upright and looked Lydia square in the eye, “It isn’t Mr. Darcy, is it?”

Lydia was all amazement, “But how did you guess? I was quite convinced they hated each other. Kitty says that they met often in Kent, when Lizzy was visiting Charlotte, and again at Pemberley itself when she toured Derbyshire with the Gardiners. To think of Lizzy as mistress of such a grand estate! She will become quite insufferable, I am sure. But do think of it – my sister, Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley! La! That does sound grand, does it not?”

Lydia did not wait for a response, continuing on in the same manner while Wickham, who by now had gotten out of bed, paced the room, lost in his own thoughts. How could he have been so stupid as to believe the tale Darcy fed him about why he became involved in the Bennets’ affairs! Always he had known that his former playmate was attracted to Elizabeth Bennet – Darcy could not hide such unusual admiration from him – but never had he imagined he would condescend to marry so very far beneath him. Not that he could blame him. Elizabeth was one of the most attractive women he had known, and there were many. Certainly she would make a far more agreeable wife than the one to whom Darcy had saddled him. Well, there was nothing to be done now but to try and turn to good account the family connection. It was unfortunate he had laid his old story about the living at Kympton on Elizabeth, as she must now become acquainted with whatever of his ingratitude and falsehood had before been unknown to her. He knew she was not a lady to be fooled twice. His best avenue was her sisterly affection.

“Though why Lizzy would not wish to inform me herself, especially of such a triumphant marriage, I cannot understand. Surely, she must wish to gloat. I certainly would.”

“Perhaps you should write to her,” Wickham interjected. “Your sister must be very busy right now, but if you express the right sentiment, it might benefit us later on.”

“I have no intention of writing to Lizzy when she cannot be bothered to do so for me!”

“Do you hope to visit Pemberley?”

“Oh, yes indeed! I shall enjoy it very much.”

“Well then, Mrs. Wickham, if you think Mr. Darcy is just going to invite us to be a part of his family party, unless you make an enormous effort to maintain Elizabeth’s favor, which the nature of our marriage has already damaged, you shall surely be disappointed.”

“I do not understand you! Why would Mr. Darcy exclude us, when he was so very obliging as to secure you a commission only a few months ago?”

“Mr. Darcy might be willing to put me in the way of advancement, if he thought it would keep both us far from his person, but I assure you he will not welcome us to Pemberley, not as things currently stand. We will have to mend a great deal of fences before receiving such an invitation.”

“Well! Do not expect me to grovel to Lizzy. Surely it is her duty to make sure we are well positioned. She cares very much for appearances, and it will not look good if she denies her sister admittance to her home.” 

“Just write to her, my dear. No need to grovel. Express your congratulations sincerely, and she will reciprocate your sisterly affection. After that, who knows? Perhaps, eventually, she can even persuade Mr. Darcy to find me a position at court. That would suit us far better than Newcastle, would it not, my dear?”

“Oh George! Do you really think so? I never dreamed of such a thing! How handsome you would look in Dragoon raiment!” She threw her arms around his neck in an affectionate, and choking hug.

Laughing, he pulled her arms from around his neck, “Go on and write then, Lydia. No time like the present.”

Inspired, Lydia hurried to gather her long neglected writing materials.

“And send up a tray, wont you? I’m famished!”


The morning following the Colllins’ arrival at Lucas Lodge, the weather turned considerably colder: a first nip of winter frost in the air. Nevertheless, Mrs. Collins, accompanied by her mother and husband, set out early for Longbourn. Their arrival was most welcome by Mrs. Bennet, quite happy to recount her triumph to new and willing ears.

“There is to be a double wedding – is that not felicitous? Mr. Darcy considered obtaining a special license, for he is quite intimate with the Archbishop, you know, but he could not bear the notion of leaving Lizzy's side. He is very devoted, you see. The wedding will be held on December 3rd. I hope your duties at Hunsford, Mr. Collins, will allow you to remain in the neighbor until that time.”

“Indeed, while my obligations are many, the affairs of the parish are in such very good order that I feel perfectly confidant leaving them in the hands of my curate. I would not dream of declining such a generous invitation, especially considering the nature of our familial connection.”

While Lady Lucas patiently listened as her neighbor and her son-in-law attempted to out talk each other, Charlotte sat by Elizabeth, enjoying the familiar chatter of the Bennet sisters.

“Lady Catherine is very grand,” said Kitty knowingly. “Her pelisse when she visited was terribly elegant.”

“Arraignment is material. It is her generosity to Mr. and Mrs. Collins that illuminates the greatness of her character.”

“You were not there, Mary, when Lady Catherine came to Longbourn, and so are in no position to judge.”

“My presence on the occasion has very little to do with the matter. Observations need not be made in person.”

“Perhaps this is one of those rare occasions when the worldly and the spiritual unite to cast their blessings upon one extraordinary human being?” Elizabeth proffered.

“But Lizzy,” protested Kitty, lowering her voice so as not to be overheard by Mr. Collins, “you called Lady Catherine an insufferable cow.”

Charlotte burst out laughing, attracting the attention of the party on the far side of the room. Elizabeth waited to respond until Charlotte had regained her composure and Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Collins their simultaneous diatribes. “That was before I had the good fortune to feel the benefits of her attention. I assure you, I now regard Lady Catherine much in the light of a guardian angel.”

“How is that, Eliza?”

“Had she not been so kind as to express to Mr. Darcy her disapprobation for me, he might never have proposed.”

“Oh my! That does do justice to her meddling,” said Charlotte in a quiet tone. Then louder, “I am the recipient of just such an example of Lady Catherine’s remarkable care. Had she not taken word of your engagement rather hard, I would not now be enjoying the pleasure of your company.”

Elizabeth squeezed her friend’s hand, “I have every reason to be grateful to Lady Catherine.”

Mr. Collins could help himself no longer. He rose, his voice carrying across the room, “Of course you do, dear cousin Elizabeth. I was just saying so much myself. All who have basked in her ladyship’s favor know its glories.” He was about to cross the room to elaborate on his favorite subject when he remembered that the good lady did not favor his cousin and, grinning sheepishly, sat back down to try and resume his half of Lady Lucas’ attention.

Jane, perceiving the danger narrowly avoided, thought it time to turn the current topic of conversation, “We are very happy to have you with us at this time, Charlotte. We would have felt your absence dearly were you not able to attend the wedding.”

“As would I. I am quite content with the current state of affairs.”

“But it will be hard, will it not, to face Lady Catherine once my marriage is an accomplished fact?”

“I look to time to cool her chagrin.”

“Surely she will cease her protests, once the marriage has taken place? No good could come of harboring such resentment.”

Elizabeth shook her head doubtfully, “If you had heard the letter she sent to Mr. Darcy, I think you might better appreciate how very put out the lady feels herself to be.”

Just then the gentlemen from Netherfield were announced, arriving for their now daily visit to Longbourn. Mr. Collins jumped up to greet them, “Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley! What a pleasure to find myself in your company again so soon, sirs. We were just discussing the arrangements for your weddings to my lovely cousins. It sounds to be an event most exalted, as befits those of distinguished ancestry.” He bowed towards Mr. Darcy.

As Jane and Elizabeth greeted their fiancés, Charlotte caught her mother’s attention, reanimated from somnolence by the new arrivals, expressing through look that it was time to liberate the Bennets from their cousin’s courtesies. Lady Lucas rose and expressed her need to bring the visit to an end, extending to the entire party an invitation to dine at Lucas Lodge in two days’ time. Elizabeth and Charlotte made plans to meet the next morning for a private chat, and the guests said their goodbyes.


It did not take long for Lydia’s congratulatory letter to arrive at Longbourn. The very next morning following the above events found it in Elizabeth’s hand. She read it with a great deal of aggravation, instantly determining that Mr. Darcy should know nothing of its contents. Needing to express her chagrin to some sympathetic ear, she turned, as of old, to Jane. Elizabeth found her in her bedroom, where she had been secretly monogramming several gentlemen’s handkerchiefs, a wedding present for Mr. Bingley, whenever she could escape their mother’s fevered wedding preparations. “Read this. I must know what you make of it,” Elizabeth demanded, handing Jane the offending missive. Jane put aside her work and read aloud:

"MY DEAR LlZZY,

I wish you joy. If you love Mr. Darcy half as well as I do my dear Wickham, you must be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you so rich, and when you have nothing else to do, I hope you will think of us. I am sure Wickham would like a place at court very much, and I do not think we shall have quite money enough to live upon without some help. Any place would do, of about three or four hundred a year; but however, do not speak to Mr. Darcy about it, if you had rather not.

Your's, &c."

“Well?” questioned Elizabeth. “What do you think of our sister’s sentiments.”

“She should not write so,” Jane sighed. “Mr. Darcy has already done so much for them; they must manage on what they have.”

“Yes, that is very sensible, but can we expect that they will? What is to stop Wickham from racking up as many debts as he has in the past? Certainly not Lydia. She will only add to his output. And when they are on the verge of disgrace, who is it that is expected to come to their rescue? My poor Fitzwilliam – as if he hasn’t been imposed on by them enough!” Elizabeth was outraged, passion inflaming her cheeks. She saw before her an endless succession of relations, ready and able to mortify Mr. Darcy, and refused to stand for it.

“Surely, now that he is a married man, Mr. Wickham must amend his ways. Soon they will be expanding their family, and what better to make a man rise to his responsibilities than progeny?”

“Oh, my dear Jane. You are too kind. Gladly would I have things transpire as you predict, but I am not so sanguine as to expect it. No, if this can be taken as a model for Lydia’s future letters, she shall never write one I will allow Mr. Darcy to see. If they find themselves in need, I will do what I can for them myself, but I will not permit them to build their expectations on his good nature.”

“As Mrs. Darcy, it will be your responsibility to protect his interests, even when encroachment comes from your own family. Our loyalties are about to forever change, Lizzy. I hope, should the Wickhams ever attempt to intrude on Charles, that I will have your resolution.”

“You had better start cultivating it now then, as nothing is more certain than Mr. Wickham’s taking advantage of others. But no more of this. After responding, I shall burn the letter and ban both of them from my thoughts. How good of Fitzwilliam to find Wickham such a distant post that there is no danger of them attending the wedding!”

Jane tried to look sternly at her sister but utterly failed, as she herself felt the blessings of Newcastle’s remoteness far too much to frown.

**********
Come back next Thursday for another weekly dose!

Giveaway Winners and "Mystery Speaker" Revealed!

So I've learned that if I keep my questions broad enough, no one will guess the answers. Last week I asked entrants to guess who in my book says, "Love is in abundance at Longbourn." While I received a medley of answers (Mrs. Bennet, Caroline Bingley, Kitty, Charlotte Lucas), no one correctly guessed that is was Georgiana Darcy speaking to Mr. Darcy. Nevertheless, we do have two winners. The signed copy of my book, First Impressions, goes to:

Meredith

While my superfluous copy of Pemberley Manor by Kathryn Nelson goes to:

RandHrShipper1

Congratulations! I shall soon be in contact with you both via email.

Would you like to know the context in which Georgiana says "Love is in abundance at Longbourn."? If so, and you have no fear of the spoiler, read on ...

          Georgiana Darcy was both surprised and delighted by her brother's unexpected arrival. Rarely did he travel spontaneously unless there was an emergency to address but she could tell upon first glance, even though Wickham weighed on his mind, that never had her brother been less burdened in his life. There was an unusual swing in his always determined stride that she had not seen before. Closer inspection revealed an excited agitation in his typically somber face. “Something certainly has affected my brother, for the positive,” she thought, “but what could possibly have induced such a remarkable change in him?” She counted on being quickly enlightened.

            After exchanging the mandatory pleasantries which must be attended to upon any reunion, regardless of their value conversationally, Darcy said, “I stop here on my way to Rosings, where I shall head tomorrow. I would continue tonight but as my aunt has no warning of my arrival, I thought coming upon her in the daylight would be less of a shock. Besides, this arrangement gives me the opportunity to visit with you, my dear. I have much to tell.”

            “More to tell than why you are off to Rosings? A place you rarely take yourself but for your annual spring visit?” Georgiana asked silently, saying aloud, “It certainly seems you do, Brother.”

            “I have formed a new acquaintance,” he said with a beaming smile that nearly took his sister aback.

            “With whom?”

            “A young lady.”

            “Oh! I see,” she replied. Both her brother's behavior and the trip to Rosings began to make sense.

            “She is a resident of Hertfordshire, Georgiana. Her father owns a small estate near Netherfield. Bingley is to marry her elder sister in December.”

            “That is wonderful news,” she exclaimed sincerely, her animated smile beaming at Darcy. She had often wondered if her brother had not entertained future hopes for herself and Mr. Bingley and was pleased to see him leave the marriage mart. Though she was fond of Mr. Bingley she had never felt anything akin to romantic attraction for him, nor did he ever betray any towards her. She suspected Darcy now had much better means of making Bingley his brother and hers as well, a role much better suited to her regard for the man. “I am delighted for him,” she said, hoping to soon feel even more delight on behalf of her brother. “What is the bride's name?”

            “Jane Bennet, the eldest of five daughters.”

            “And your young lady?” she asked with a nervous grin.

            He smiled broadly, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the second eldest of the house – Longbourn is its name,” he enthusiastically replied.

            “He does seem smitten!” Georgiana thought as she hung on to every detail of his account.

            “We met at a local assembly, the same at which Bingley met Miss Bennet. He harangued me into asking her to dance and quite in spite of myself I found her utterly charming. She is so unlike the women I meet in society, Georgiana; she has none of their air of falsity and connivance. I find her company thoroughly rejuvenating. She is kind, caring, honest, and terribly witty. She makes me feel happier than I have ever been and I have asked to spend more time getting to know her.”

            “Oh Fitzwilliam! She sounds wonderful. But pray, if your plans are to be courting her, why are you suddenly off to Rosings?”

            “You will have great difficulty believing the coincidence. I witnessed it and had a hard time myself grasping the notion myself. It seems that Aunt Catherine's new rector, a Mr. William Collins, happens to be cousin to the Bennets and heir of their estate. Just this week he became engaged to Mary Bennet, the third sister.”

            “Love is in abundance at Longbourn,” she replied in astonishment.

            Darcy laughed, “You know, when I first met the family I was certain that such a frantically matchmaking mother as Mrs. Bennet would frighten away all thinking prospects for her daughters. While it is uncertain if the appellation 'thinking' can be applied to Mr. Collins, I must say I either gravely underestimated her, the charms of her daughters, or the powerful force of her husband, as he has proven himself equally determined, in a far more sophisticated fashion, to achieve the same end.”