Amanda Grange - Dear Mr. Darcy: A Retelling of Pride and Prejudice

I’ve always been fascinated by Jane Austen’s novels, and by Pride and Prejudice in particular. It was started in 1796–97 and then revised a great deal before being published in 1813. It seems likely that it was originally written in epistolary form since Sense and Sensibility, started at around the same time, was first drafted in this way.

Over the years I have asked myself what new characters would be necessary to reveal the plot if the epistolary form were used, and what interesting insights those letters would reveal. I imagined the feelings of the social climbing Caroline Bingley on first discovering that her brother knew Mr Darcy of Pemberley, and Louisa Bingley’s feelings towards Mr Hurst. I imagined the family who lived at Netherfield and their reasons for vacating the house, so that it was fortuitously available for Mr Bingley to rent. I imagined letters between Elizabeth and her sensible Aunt Gardiner, and letters between Elizabeth and Jane. I imagined Mr Darcy’s letters to his family when his father died and his feelings when he shouldered his responsibilities to his younger sister and the Pemberley estate. And I imagined his feelings for Elizabeth, revealed in his letters to his family and friends.

When other people want to explore their ideas about Jane Austen’s books, they chat with fellow Janeites or write learned articles. When I want to explore my ideas, I write novels.

I have taken the opportunity to include the futures that Jane Austen herself planned for Mary and Kitty Bennet, revealed to her family members when they asked her what became of the other Bennet girls.

So here it is, my vision of how Pride and Prejudice might have looked in its earliest incarnation, written to entertain anyone who is in love with Jane Austen and Dear Mr Darcy.

Amanda Grange

Mrs Reynolds to Mr Darcy

Pemberley, Derbyshire,

May 25

Dear Mr Darcy,

I hope I am not doing wrong by writing to you, being only the housekeeper, but your father is very ill and I thought you would want to know. The physician says it is nothing to worry about, just his old complaint, but I think it is different this time. I am taking it upon myself to write to you, so that you may come home and see for yourself if you wish.

Respectfully yours,

Mrs Reynolds

Mr Darcy to Mrs Reynolds

Cambridge, May 26

Mrs Reynolds, you have done me a great kindness. I have been worried about my father ever since I left him at Easter and I am exceedingly grateful to you for your concern. I shall set out at once and I hope to be with you the day after tomorrow.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Mr Darcy Senior to Mr Darcy

Pemberley, Derbyshire, May 26

My dearest son,

I have discovered that Mrs Reynolds has written to you and I cannot find it in myself to condemn her since I believe she is right in her fears. I hope I will live to see you again but, in case you arrive too late, I will leave you this letter, so that I may say everything I wish to say.

I will begin by saying that I am very proud of you. You are everything I ever wanted in a son, for you are a true Darcy, and I can think of no higher praise than that. Remember at all times who you are and maintain a superiority of demeanour as you have a superiority of birth. Do not encourage the familiarity of the vulgar, for be warned, they will seek to bring themselves to your notice; but only assume the proper bearing and it will be enough to discourage their pretensions.

Take care of your sister, protect her from those who would ingratiate themselves with her and, as she grows older, keep her safe from fortune hunters. When the time comes, arrange a good marriage for her; a marriage to one of her equals but also to a man she loves. It is the dearest wish of my heart that she should be happy.

By that time, no doubt you will be married. Remember that the woman you favour with your hand will not only be a wife to you, she will also be a sister to Georgiana and the mistress of Pemberley. She will need to command the respect of the servants and the love of your family; she must reflect the greatness of the Darcys; she must be a gracious hostess and a model of feminine virtue; she must be a modest lady; and she must be possessed of a refined taste and true decorum. And she must be a woman you can admire, respect and esteem, as well as love.

For advice on matters of this nature I refer you to my brother’s son, your cousin Philip. He, too, bears the name of Darcy, and on his shoulders, as well as on yours, will fall the responsibility of upholding the Darcy traditions and continuing the Darcy name. It is a noble calling, and one in which I know you will excel.

Be affable to the poor, be kind to those in need, be a good landlord and a fair master. When anyone serves you with particular devotion, then repay it, as I have repaid the faithful stewardship of Mr Wickham. It was a delight to me to send his son to university, so that George might rise in the world and make his mark as a man of standing. I must now leave it to you to assist George in any way you think will be of benefit to him in the future; in particular, consider appointing him to the living of Kympton if he should go into the church. It is a valuable living with a good rectory and it will provide him with a respectable livelihood.

And now I can write no more, for I grow too weak to hold the pen. I hope that I will be spared long enough to see you again, but if not, I give you my blessing, my son, and I leave you with these words: be a good friend, be a fair man, be a tender brother, but at all times remember who you are: Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.

Your loving father,

George Darcy

Mr Darcy to Mr Philip Darcy

Pemberley, Derbyshire, June 1

Philip, I write to you with terrible news. My father is dead. I arrived home, alerted by Mrs Reynolds, to find that he was very ill. I ran across the hall and as I climbed the staircase I thought it would never end. I reached the door of his room at last and I stopped for a moment to compose myself. The physician, hearing me, came out looking very grave. He shook his head and I had an awful moment when I thought that I was too late and that my father was already dead, so I steeled myself for the worst and went in. The room was dim and I could see nothing at first but then I made out his form on the bed. His chest was not rising and falling and as I went forward, my feet were as heavy as lead. But he turned his head and saw me and I fell to my knees at his side, taking his hand in mine, thanking God that I had returned home in time. He smiled and returned the pressure of my hand, and had time to give me his blessing before he closed his eyes and was gone.

How long I stayed there I do not know. Mrs Reynolds found me at last and helped me below. I sat in the dining parlour until the light faded and only stirred when the candles were brought in. The light falling on the miniatures over the mantelpiece roused me, and I thought how much my father had loved to see them there, often turning to the portraits of Georgiana and myself and looking at them with pride.

I cannot believe he will never see them again.

I feel empty and alone. And yet, in this empty state, I have more to do than ever before. The servants are looking to me to guide them, and not just the servants, but the tenants and the villagers, all those who rely on me and Pemberley and the Darcy name to shelter and protect them, and ensure their prosperity and well-being. They are all waiting for me to take the lead and I do not know where I am going to find the strength to do it. But I must find it, and soon, for everyone is depending on me, not least of all Georgiana.

She was very pale, poor little girl, when she heard the news. It went to my heart to see her so wan. I did what I could to comfort her but although I did my best, she needed a mother to help her, yet her mother is now long dead. To be an orphan at only eleven years old. Poor child! She is as lost as I am.

I thank God for my aunt Adelaide. She set out from Cumbria as soon as she heard the news and she has now taken Georgiana back to Cumbria, where our Fitzwilliam cousins will pet her and spoil her and do everything in their power to cheer her. I saw her depart with a pang, but I can rest in the knowledge that I have done what is best for her.

My cousin Henry came with my aunt and remained here when my aunt returned to Cumbria. You remember Henry Fitzwilliam, my military cousin on my mother’s side, I am sure. He will be with me for the funeral but I would value your support as well. I must be dignified and give a lead to the other mourners, but at present I do not know how I am to survive it. Will you come?

Darcy

Mr Philip Darcy to Mr Darcy

Wiltshire, June 2

I will come at once.

PD

Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy

Fitzwater Park, Cumbria,

June 3

My dear Fitzwilliam,

You will want to know how we are all getting on in Cumbria. Georgiana is very quiet and your uncle is shocked to see how altered she is, being so thin and pale, but we are all determined to help her out of her grief. Thank goodness it is summer and so she can go out of doors. Maud means to take her out riding this afternoon. It is a fine day and we hope the fresh air will put some colour in her cheeks. Peter has promised her one of Sheba’s puppies, and although she did not appear to pay much attention to him at the time, she later asked me how many puppies there were and so I am sure the sight of them will do her good. We will take care of her and keep her with us until she is restored to her former animation.

We are all so proud of you and the way you are bearing your bereavement. Your father would be very proud of you, too. It gives you some comfort, I hope, to know that your family are all thinking of you.

Your loving aunt,

Adelaide

Mr Darcy to Lady Adelaide Fitzwilliam

Pemberley, Derbyshire, June 4

You will never know what a help your letter has been to me. To know that Georgiana is safely with her cousins and looking forward to choosing a new puppy helps me to bear what has to be borne.

The funeral is now over, thank God. Henry and Philip were with me and were a great support to me, walking one on either side of me as we set out on our melancholy journey behind the coffin.

As we set off down the drive I thought of nothing but my father: the day he set me on my first pony; the day he taught me to fish; the look of pride on his face when I started school; the advice he gave me when I came of age; and the last sad but treasured memory of him taking my hand and giving me his blessing as he died.

As we left the grounds and turned onto the road, I was comforted by the sight which met my eyes, for the road was lined with people, their heads bowed and hats removed, all gathered to pay their last respects. They fell in quietly behind us as we passed, and, as we walked, more and more people joined the procession—all silent, but giving me strength by their presence and by the obvious love they had felt for Papa.

By the time we reached the church, the procession stretched back as far as the eye could see. The church was soon full, and those who could not find room inside waited peacefully outside. I heard their voices murmuring the responses, coming through the open door with quiet feeling. Mr Light gave an inspiring sermon and my father was finally laid to rest with all the dignity of his position, and all the love of his family, and all the regard of his fellow men. And as the earth fell on the coffin, I said good-bye.

We turned away, and as we did so, I felt an unexpected lightening of my gloom. For the first time I felt that I could bear the loss and that I could take my father’s place as the master of Pemberley.