The Reconstruction of Pemberley

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The Reconstruction of Pemberley



After the devastating encounter with Doctor Mathias, his band of mutants and the subsequent recovery of Mary Bennet, Mister Darcy makes the difficult decision to move the family to London. The reconstruction of Pemberley will be difficult, as well as removing the ever present reminders of how close they all came to losing their lives.

Leaving those ghosts behind them, Darcy and Elizabeth, along with Jonathan and Georgiana begin the task of adjusting to life in the big city. Darcy, no stranger to the London lifestyle, has assumed the position of guide and historian while the others marvel at the crowded dirty streets.

Jonathan has been to London twice, his last being his honeymoon with the lovely Georgiana. It was however, marred by the violent confrontation with the possessed, demonic Mary Bennet. They vowed to rekindle the magical fairytale which had been suddenly cut short after only four days of wedded bliss.

As their carriage enters the thriving metropolis they are met by the sights, sounds and smells of one of the most amazing cities on earth. Black soot belches from hundreds of chimneys and casts a perceptible veil of gray which practically turns the sun opaque. On the plus side however, it makes for spectacular sunsets of crimson and gold. The scent of burning wood and horse manure penetrates the nostrils and causes Jonathan’s eyes to tear. The sensation brings a smile to his face as a wave of favorable memories flood into his mind. He gazes into the eyes of his lovely bride and mouths the words.

“I love you.” 

Georgiana’s cheeks grow rosy red, and she giggles with delight as she squeezes his hand tightly. He places a kiss upon her forehead, just below her wavy red locks.

Darcy’s eyes dart towards the newlyweds and he casually breaks the mood with a loud clearing of his throat and furrowed brow on display.

“May I remind you both that here in London; decorum is the rule rather than the exception. Open displays of affection are frowned upon by todays gentry, and as a matter of fact…”

Elizabeth frowns at Darcy as she interrupts. “Really, Mister Darcy, have you forgotten what life was like as a newlywed? Jonathan and Georgiana are afloat in the most gorgeous time of their lives.”

“You misunderstand Lizzy, I still consider us as newlyweds and I shall endeavor to maintain our life thus.” He reaches over and grasps her gloved hand in his and places a kiss upon the back of it. Without saying a word, she rests her head upon his shoulder and smiles across the carriage towards Jonathan and Georgiana.

By day, the streets of London are alive with the clip-clop of powerful broad-shouldered horses which draw squeaky wagons nearly overflowing with produce and raw goods to feed the hungry city. Carriages representing an entire spectrum of means convey tourists and businessmen, while others deliver unto London, hopeful, misplaced people wearing their finest clothing as they search for the opportunity to a fresh start.

In the heart of town, street vendors bark out the latest headlines of the day as they sell their newspapers to those educated enough to read them. Any man foolish enough to casually read through the newspaper while standing on a street corner; will no doubt become prey to the numerous pickpockets who roam the crowded avenues.

The night brings out a different cast of characters. After the lamplighters have done their job for the evening, the feeble light casts dark shadows; perfect for prostitutes who look to make a meager living while hiding sometimes horrible scars of regrettable encounters with their unpredictable clients. These poor outcasts, usually the product of a broken marriage or lack of fortune, cruise the streets dressed in whatever they have that’s best, and expose themselves to an uncertain future.

Fortunately, The Bingley’s have made arrangements for their friends to use their house in Grosvenor Square, one of the most aristocratic sections of the city. This is Elizabeth’s first trip into London, and while she finds certain aspects of the city disgusting, she is curious of a life that is both exciting and completely alien to her comfortable country life.

Buckingham House, towers before them straight ahead as their carriage crosses the West Minster Bridge. The property is constructed as three wings which surround a courtyard large enough to accommodate an octagon shaped fountain, twenty feet across in the center of it all.

Elizabeth’s eyes grow wide with curiosity; she is intrigued by the opulent property and queries Mister Darcy.

“This is a rather large estate. I imagine someone of great importance resides here?”

“This private residence is referred to as the ‘Queen’s House’. It was acquired by King George III for Queen Charlotte.”

“The Queen no less.” She places an index finger against her sculpted chin.

“Would you ever consider purchasing such an estate for me? I am after all your queen am I not?”

Georgiana and Jonathan joined Elizabeth in laughter as Darcy raises a quizzical eyebrow at Elizabeth’s comical request.

“I’m afraid you will have to rejoice in the title of, ‘Queen of Pemberley’. That is if you will have me as your ‘King’ Your Majesty.”

“I shall have to carefully consider my options sir.”

This playful banter is precisely what they all need in their lives right now. They deserve this break from the rigors of the reconstruction of their home, and it gives Darcy the opportunity to showcase all that London has to offer.

The carriage turns right onto Regents Street where the pedestrians strolling past the shops and cafés are decidedly more refined. The men seem to be cut from the same pattern, black Hessian boots, dark trousers, matching broadcloth overcoats and conical hats. The ladies who accompany them are another matter. They are dressed in overcoats of bold pastels and hats as individual as the pampered ladies who wear them. The aristocratic lifestyle requires the adornment of these women with the finest clothing and jewelry money can buy. It is a way of boasting one’s wealth without actually discussing the subject. This blatant display is employed to exclude those of lesser means and provides an awful camaraderie among those who are frequently mocked by those outside of this influential sphere.

The carriage turns left on Oxford Street where shops and cafés give way to rows of three story residences which line either side of the spotless street. The horse traffic is half as busy as downtown and the prevailing winds keep the odoriferous aroma in check.

Each of the homes boast a fine wooden door painted and buffed to a high gloss. Some of them black while others red, and accented with polished brass hardware. Brass and glass lamps are affixed to either side of these magnificent doors. Here the streets are nearly deserted, it is midday and most of the residents are probably napping, or discussing plans for the impending evening.

Another left brings the carriage to Bond Street and the entrance to Grosvenor Square. Nearly all of the wealth of London resides in this ethereal community, but governed by no one in particular. The Darcy’s and the Thomas’s will take up temporary residence here amongst the tribal gentlemen of London. Here, one is judged by the amount of property one owns, and there sitting atop of the heap is none other than Mister Hurst, brother in law to Darcy’s best friend Mister Charles Bingley. Since Jane, his wife prefers life in the country; the Bingley house has remained vacant for some time. This proved to be fortuitous for all as Charles sent orders to have the house opened and staffed for his good friends, much to the delight of Mister Hurst, whose part-time enjoyment is derived by spying on residents of the properties he owns or manages.

The carriage travels three quarters around the center of the square, giving the group an up close view of the opulent houses and the resplendent circular garden which dominates the center of the massive square. The interior measures one square mile with the garden taking up about half of that. The garden offers strollers a paved walk through a maze of hedgerows which lead to the center and the statue of Sir Richard Grosvenor, the man who developed the square and the surrounding streets.

Most of the houses feature five to seven bays, three main stories, with attic and basement. Although the original intent was to create an impressive grouping of houses, the palatial east side consisting of Corinthian columns was not carried out. In the end, most of the houses were built to individual design, thus creating a chaotic look to the most fashionable address in London. There are groups of three-story terra-cotta colored houses with red roofs sandwiched between four-story white houses with blue slate roofs. This chaos of architecture is casually ignored by the gentry who live within this micro-kingdom.

Darcy smiles broadly while the others breathe a sigh of relief as the carriage stops in front of number eighteen, one of the most luxurious houses on the east side. Darcy has been to this house many times as a guest of the Bingley’s. It was here that the seductive Caroline first set her sights on Darcy and his immense fortune, but in the end true love won the day. Although poor Caroline exudes confidence and pride, it is merely a shield with which she hides a bleeding broken heart. 

Although the homes on this side of the square are older, they are by far the most grand. The great black enamel door swings open and a large man dressed in the latest and finest clothing London has to offer, appears in the doorway. He plops his black conical hat upon his bulbous curly-haired head and steps out into the bright sunlight. He appears as a general with gold epaulets and brass buttons on his overcoat, right down to the brass buckles on his boots. He turns back to the house and calls to the servants in a loud booming voice.

“All right then everyone, your new masters have arrived. Come and make a good account of yourselves.”

Meanwhile the two drivers assist their passengers from the carriage, and then begin to unload the trunks and assorted baggage into the waiting arms of the servants of number eighteen Grosvenor Street. The large gentleman keeps a watchful eye on the servants while Darcy, Elizabeth, Jonathan and Georgiana stretch and make themselves presentable after the arduous journey.

When they finished, the large man approaches and introduces himself with a respectful bow. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Mister Hurst, brother in law to Mister Charles Bingley. He has charged me with the happy honor of preparing his residence for your use. It will be my pleasure to be at your service.”

At this point the party returns the courtesy and Darcy asserts his position by taking the opportunity to introduce everyone. “This is Mister Jonathan Thomas, husband to my sister, Misses Georgiana Thomas, my wife Misses Elizabeth Darcy…”

Mister Hurst’s eyes widen as he interrupts “So, you must be Mister Darcy, Mister Bingley speaks of you as if you are his brother. Welcome to you sir, and all of you.  We’re practically family don’t you see? Why don’t we go inside so I can show you about the place?”

The ladies take the arms of their gentlemen and follow Mister Hurst, who stays uncomfortably close to Darcy as they enter the towering white house.

“I know you are familiar with this old house, Mister Darcy, but there have been some changes since Charles took possession.”

The group is met with welcome warmth emanating from a blazing fireplace which sits at the right side of the Great room. The open hearth is large enough to accommodate an entire Damask sofa, if one chose to toss one in. If not, one just happens to sit invitingly before the elaborate source of heat. The fireplace itself is a work of art, surrounded by intricately carved marble moldings and topped with a massive wooden mantelpiece. Cast iron figurines of horses as well as a miniature cathedral carved of marble and trimmed in gold sit prominently below an impressive painting of an imposing well-dressed older couple, and three familiar, beautifully dressed children.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Bingley’s.” Mister Hurst says as he gestures towards the life-size painting. “The young lady in the center is my wife, Louisa, when she was just a child of twelve. A very handsome family, are they not, Mister Darcy?”

“Indeed they are, Mister Hurst. Shall we continue with the tour?” Urges Mister Darcy as he reacts to a gentle nudge from Elizabeth. She is clearly uncomfortable by the image of Caroline Bingley towering over her. 

The hardwood floors creak and groan as the large man moves about the room. To the left, a grand stairway which leads to a second floor hall which crosses the entire first floor, and doubles as a balcony with its open bannister allowing an un-obstructed view of the Great room below.

Mister Hurst leads the group between a pair of Corinthian columns that support the second floor hall while also serving as a grand portal into the Study. Like the Great room, it is well appointed with fine furniture, imported from every corner of Europe. The ample natural light is provided by three, spectacular floor to ceiling windows constructed of twenty-four inch, separately framed glazing. A ladies backgammon / work table complete with ink, pens, and sealing wax sits at the left corner, near one of the massive windows, while the man’s desk sits at the center window. The rest of the room is laid out with French style sofas and chairs, upholstered with rich fabrics of green, burgundy, and deep reds.

An oval mahogany occasional table sits between a pair of matching burgundy daybeds, which are high-backed at one end and gently slope downward toward the other end. The rest of the furniture is arranged in the usual conversation configuration. A well-stocked bookshelf, high enough to require a footstool to reach the top shelf and just as wide, is prominently placed along the wall on the right side of the room, near enough to the windows to take advantage of the generous light that pours into the room.

An ebony grand pianoforte sits silently under one of two elaborate, multi-tiered crystal chandeliers at the far end of the room. Jonathan smiles broadly and strolls toward the elegant instrument. He traces the instrument’s smooth lines with a delicate hand as if he were tracing Georgiana’s fine curves.

Her heart begins to beat faster as she watches his capable hand move across the sparkling finish. A wave of excitement washes over her, while her porcelain cheeks turn a rosy hue which does not go un-noticed.

He smiles and gazes into her sparkling blue eyes.

“Georgiana, clearly we have found the heart of this old house. I look forward to the moment when we sit here, close enough to feel the warmth from our bodies, and play lovely duets late into the evening.”

She smiles and rubs the back of his hand, her cheeks still red. “My heart aches to hear you fill this room with music.”

“Indeed we shall delight in the euphoria of your musical flair, Mister Thomas.” Elizabeth adds. Her voice gently breaks the spell of the moment.

Jonathan’s cheeks grow red with modesty, “You are too generous, Misses Darcy. I shall endeavor to surpass your expectations.”

Darcy covers his mouth as he yawns. He composes himself and then addresses Mister Hurst.

“I’m sure we can find the rest of the way on our own Mister Hurst. Now if you don’t mind, would you be so kind as to assemble the servants in the Great room. We’re very tired and wish to go to our rooms and make ourselves comfortable.”

Mister Hurst’s eyes nearly pop from his head as he is taken aback by Darcy’s abrupt dismissal of his services.

“As you wish, Mister Darcy.” He gives a quick nod and loudly stomps from the Study while he calls out to all of the servants to assemble in the Great room. “And be quick about it. Your new employers require your complete attention.”

The sounds of footsteps seem to come from every direction, converging toward their location. In less than a minute a group of twelve servants quietly assemble in a straight line. As if on cue, the men bow and the girls curtsy in unison, then stand at attention as if awaiting inspection. They are a balanced group of females and males. Four formally dressed footmen complete with powdered wigs and white gloves, stare straight ahead. The other men, although dressed in work clothes and their hair somewhat unkempt, look every bit as serious as the footmen.

Mister Hurst gestures to the eldest footman to step forward. “This is Giles, the senior footman.”

The man steps forward and bows gracefully. “It will by an honor to serve you all.”

Mister Hurst then gestures to the eldest female, who takes her place next to Giles. “This is Mildred his wife, a finer housekeeper simply does not exist. They will be at your service `round the clock, since they share a small apartment next to the kitchen; they shan’t be in the way.”

Giles smiles proudly, while Mildred blushes.

“Mind you, Mister Darcy.” Mister Hurst continues. “There are several households here in Grosvenor Square who has shown an active interest in this pair. Fortunately for you, they remain devoted to the Bingley’s.”

Darcy smiles and then nods to the capable couple. “I appreciate your loyalty to my friend; I hope you find my family equally worthy.”

“Thank you, Mister Darcy, we shall endeavor to make your stay here worry free, and speaking for the rest of us, it shall be our duty to have you all to feel at home here just as you do at Pemberley.”

“Thank you, Giles, in that case, we would like to go to our rooms and make ourselves familiar.”

“Yes sir.” Giles says with a nod of his head. He gestures toward the staircase and the other footmen and four of the girls dart up the stairs. The two workmen head for the rear of the house, leaving Mildred and one of the young servants.

Elizabeth steps forward to address them. “We shall have supper at eight, nothing elaborate, since we are quite exhausted.”

“Yes Misses Darcy.”

The two ladies curtsy then head for the kitchen. As they do, Mister Hurst clears his throat rather loudly so as to draw attention to himself. With everyone’s focus upon him he speaks out.

“Misses Darcy, would you be so generous as to allow the young lady to accompany me to my house? I have some documents which I unfortunately left on my desk that shall require Mister Darcy’s signature. I promise not to keep her any longer than necessary to deliver them here.”

Elizabeth turns to Mildred. “Can you spare…” She stops not wanting to refer to the young girl as “her”. “Pray, what is your name miss?”

The corners of the young girls mouth rise, revealing a bright, gap-toothed smile.

“My name is Christina, mum. Thank you for asking.”

“Right, now that we have that all straightened out, “Can you do without Christina for a few minutes, Mildred?”

“Of course, Misses Darcy.”

“Very well them, Mister Hurst you may borrow Christina for the task you of which you spoke.”

“Thank you, Misses Darcy, and good night to you all.”