Pride and Prejudice Bonus: Darcy’s Letter
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So, we got hit by a hurricane...
In lieu of trying to record a "normal" episode while displaced, we present an impromptu piece of bonus content: Emily's extremely questionable but highly dramatic reading of Mr. Darcy's letter to Elizabeth in Chapter 35. Please enjoy!
If you are able, we encourage donating to local organizations assisting with hurricane recovery.
Show Notes
So, when we ran a Twitter poll two weeks ago asking if you thought Emily should perform a dramatic reading of The Letter, we had imagined some silly bonus content to release at the end of the season. But then the Friday after our episode covering chapters 31-35 was posted, we realized that the pesky little tropical storm that had been forming in the Gulf was actually going to be a major hurricane. By Saturday, we had packed up and left the city, thinking we would be back in three days.
Spoiler alert…we were not.
Luckily we were able to evacuate together to a safe place a few hours from the city. Of course we didn’t pack the recording equipment (gone for three days, remember?), but when it was safe enough to drive back into the city to check our houses for damage and pack more clothes, we snagged everything we needed. Except for, you know, the sanity needed to prep and record a standard episode.
Instead, a few drinks into another evening away from home wondering when we would get power again, we figured…what better time than to record that dramatic reading?
We’ll be back to the episodes you expect from us soon. In the meantime, we hope you enjoy our silly content.
Transcript
Lauren: [00:00:00] Hi everyone. So, if you follow us on social media, you may have already seen that we were displaced by Hurricane Ida that recently hit Southern Louisiana. We luckily are fine. Our homes are fine, but we are still displaced and out of the city and without power, so not in the proper space to really record a true episode for you this week, unfortunately. We hope to be back to our usual posting schedule two weeks from now, but we didn't want to leave you without content. So without further ado, I give to you the bonus content that perhaps no one actually wanted, but that you're going to get. Emily's dramatic reading of The Darcy Letter. We hope you enjoy.
Emily: Be not alarmed, Madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes, which, for the happiness of both cannot be too soon forgotten; and the effort which the formation, and the perusal of this letter must occasion, should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice.
Two offenses of a very different nature, and by no means of equal magnitude, you laid last night to my charge. The first mentioned was that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached Mr. Bingley from your sister, and the other, that I had, in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honor, and humanity ruined the immediate prosperity and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham.
Willfully and wantonly to have thrown [00:02:00] off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged favorite of my father, a young man who had scarcely any other dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect its exertion, would be a depravity, to which the separation of two young persons, whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks, could bear no comparison. But from the severity of that blame, which was last night so liberally bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope to be in future secured when the following account of my actions and their motives has been read. If in the explanation of them, which is due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry.
The necessity must be obeyed and farther apology would be absurd. I had not been in Hertfordshire before I saw, in common with others, that Bingley preferred your eldest sister to any other young woman in the country. But it was not until the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment.
I had often seen him in love before. At that ball, while I had the honor of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas's accidental information, that Bingley's attentions to your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could be undecided.
From that moment, I observed my friend's behavior attentively and I could then perceive that his partiality for Ms. Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. Your sister I also watched. Her look and matters were open, cheerful and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced from the evening's scrutiny that though she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invite [00:04:00] them by any participation of sentiment. If you have not been mistaken here, I must have been in error. Your superior knowledge of your sister must make the latter probable. If it be so, if I have been misled by such error to inflict pain on her, your resentment has not been unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert that the serenity of your sister's countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched.
That I was desirous of believing her indifferent is certain, but I will venture to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. I did not believe her to be indifferent because I wished it, I believed it on impartial conviction as truly as I wished it in reason. My objections to the marriage were not merely those, which I last night acknowledged to have required the utmost force of passion to put aside, in my own case; the want of connection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me.
But there were other causes of repugnance; causes, which though still existing, and existing to an equal degree in both instances, I had myself endeavored to forget because they were not immediately before me. These causes must be stated, though briefly.
The situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison to that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father. Pardon me. It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that, to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure, [00:06:00] is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your eldest sister, than it is honorable to the sense and disposition of both. I will only say farther, that from what passed that evening, my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement heightened, which could have led me before to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection.
He left Netherfield for London on the day following, as you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning. The part which I acted is now to be explained. His sisters' uneasiness had been equally excited with my own; our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in detaching their brother, we shortly resolved on joining him directly in London.
We accordingly went and there, I readily engaged in the office of pointing out to my friend the certain evils of such a choice. I described and enforced them earnestly. But, however this remonstrance might have staggered or delayed his determination, I do not suppose that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage had it not been seconded by the assurance, which I hesitated not in giving, of your sister's indifference. He had before believed her to return his affection with sincere, if not with equal regard. But Bingley has great natural modesty with a stronger dependence on my judgment than on his own. To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself was no very difficult point.
To persuade him against returning into Hartfordshire when that conviction had been given was scarcely the work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having done thus much. There is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is that I condescended to [00:08:00] adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from him your sister's being in town.
I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley, but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. That they might have met without ill consequence, is perhaps probable, but his regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger. Perhaps this concealment, this disguise, was beneath me.
It is done, however, and it was done for the best. On this subject, I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it was unknowingly done. And though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learned to condemn them.
With respect to that other more weighty accusation of having injured Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of his connection with my family. Of what he has particularly accused me I am ignorant; but of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity.
Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates; and whose good conduct, in the discharge of his trust, naturally inclined my father to be of service to him, and on George Wickham, who was his godson, his kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him at school, and afterwards at Cambridge; most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman's education.
My father was not only fond of this young man's society, whose manners were always engaging, he had also the highest opinion of him and hoping the church would be his profession, intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to [00:10:00] think of him in a very different manner. The vicious propensities, the want of principle, which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of his best friend could not escape the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which Mr. Darcy could not have.
Here again, I shall give you pain, to what degree you only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Wickham has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from unfolding his real character. It adds even another motive. My excellent father died about five years ago and his attachment to Mr. Wickham was to the last so steady, that in his will, he particularly recommended it to me to promote his advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow, and if he took orders, desired that a valuable family living might be his as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy of 1000 pounds.
His own father did not long survive mine. And within half a year from these events, Mr. Wickham wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders, he hoped I should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment, by which he could not be benefited.
He had some intention, he added, of studying the law, and I must be aware that the interest of 1000 pounds would be a very insufficient support therein. I've rather wished, than believed, him to be sincere, but at any rate was perfectly ready to accede to his proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman.
The business was therefore settled. He resigned all claim to assistance in the church, were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to receive it, and accepted in turn [00:12:00] 3000 pounds. All connection between us seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of him to invite him to Pemberley or admit his society in town.
In town I believe he chiefly lived, but his studying the law was a mere pretense, and being now free from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation. For about three years, I heard little of him, but on the decease of the incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied to me again by letter for the presentation.
His circumstances, he assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He had found the law a most unprofitable study and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained, if I would present to him the living in question-- of which he trusted there could be little doubt, as he was well assured that I had no other person to provide for, and I could not have forgotten my revered father's intention.
You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every repetition of it. His resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances, and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me to others as in his reproaches to myself.
After this period, every appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How he lived, I know not, but last summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice. I must now mention a circumstance, which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy.
My sister, who is more than 10 years my junior, was left to the guardianship of my mother's nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and myself. About a year ago, she was taken from school and an establishment formed for her in London, and last summer, she went with the lady who presided over it to Ramsgate. And thither [00:14:00] also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design, for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived. And by her connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and to consent to an elopement.
She was then, but 15, which must be her excuse, and after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add that I owed the knowledge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and feelings prevented any public exposure, but I wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left the place immediately, and Mrs. Younge was of course removed from her charge. Mr. Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my sister's fortune, which is 30,000 pounds; but I can not help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have been complete indeed.
This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have been concerned together, and if you do not absolutely reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty toward Mr. Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood, he has imposed on you, but his success is not perhaps to be wondered at, ignorant as you previously were of everything concerning either.
Detection could not be in your power and suspicion certainly not in your inclination. You may possibly wonder why all this was not told you last night, but I was not then [00:16:00] master enough of myself to know what could or ought to be revealed. For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and still more as one of the executors of my father's will, has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions.
If your abhorrence of me should make my assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavor to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the morning. I will only add, God bless you.
Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Lauren: Thank you for joining us for this very special bonus episode of Reclaiming Jane. And thank you also for bearing with us as we get back to a normal posting schedule. In the meantime, we will put some resources for donating to people who were affected by Hurricane Ida in the description.
Please make sure to check those out. We are luckily fine, but many others are not. And if you have the ability or the capability to help, we really hope that you do, and that this silly bonus episode made you laugh because it made us laugh and brought some happiness into a very strange time. So we will see you next time with an actual episode with new Pride and Prejudice content. Bye y'all.