My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey into Love Everlasting

to ramble through the streets and relish the sights. Poor man has never seen England. How does one live? I ask arrogantly.

Eventually we set off. I did manage to post a letter warning William of my arrival. I hoped it would arrive well enough in advance, although that did not prove to be true. Apparently the mail service of my great country has not improved. Not all can be perfect. Oh well, that is the way of family! I flattered myself that his astounding joy would be profound enough to overwhelm any irritation at my besieging of the newlyweds. This did prove to be true as well as fortuitous, as William had hurt himself, again, and I am sure it was only my timely arrival that saved him from a life of handicap! Ha! However, I am getting ahead of myself, as you know, dear Jharna, I am wont to do.

This trip home has been so anticipated, sea travel notwithstanding. Naturally I was thrilled that Raul wished to accompany me, but even without his companionship I would have had to come. How many hours did I bore you with memories of my homeland, Jharna? Always wishing and praying that you would agree to travel with me. Perhaps I should have prayed to your gods rather than my own. Ah well, here I now am, and never has the green English countryside and crowded London streets filled me with such joy. It is almost impossible to recollect how anxious I was to leave all those decades ago. Perhaps I am getting old, as you would tease.

Darcy House stood shining in the afternoon sun, undiminished in her grandeur and loveliness. Moderate chaos reigned, much to my delight, when I crossed the threshold. It was a scene evocative of my youth when all us rowdy children would be tearing about the foyer: Alex sliding down the banister to Mother's dismay, Estella hiding in order to frighten delicate Mary, and James doubled over in mirth while I performed some feat of acrobatic skill. Yes, I must be aging if the frequent jaunts down the ancient paths of my memories are any indication. If the obvious affection between William and his bride are evidentiary of their marital relations, then Darcy House will yet again display such a scene. In fact, they are already on the way as Mrs. Darcy is with child.

How can I describe Elizabeth Darcy? Clinically, emotionally, or both? Physically she is a tiny slip of a girl, although actually of moderate height. Strangely, considering the stature of William, she on the one hand is dwarfed by his bulk while simultaneously looming larger than life. Sheer force of personality and presence overcomes her physicality. With chestnut hair, enormous brown eyes, dainty features, and delicate bone structure, she is a picturesque counterpart for my nephew. They complement each other well on numerous levels. However, it is the aforementioned presence that I know has captured William, as I imagine it does all who know her. She is witty, intelligent, sparkling, kind, courageous, and loving. I can readily find no faults, and you know, Jharna, what a penchant I have for divining deficiencies!

I will confess that I assumed William, like the vast majority of men in his class, had acquired a wife from the leeches of proper British society. Someone poised, of excellent family, and acceptable, but likely dull, vapid, and shallow. My years away from my favored nephew, his character largely gleaned through James's letters and later his own, fostered the theory that he would take the safe and acceptable road. I cannot claim to have an overly intimate relationship with him, but could have stated with absolute certainty that taking such a path would have rendered him miserable within a year. James always told me that his son's intelligence and restrained intensity mildly intimidated him, William possessing a nature far too zealous and exacting to comfortably fit within the confines of stifling English society. Yet, he would lament, William seemed determined to do so even to the point of suppressing his inclinations.

As I recall musing in previous journal entries while visiting home, my impressions concurred with James's. William as an adult and Master of Pemberley appeared to be fulfilling the best of James's predictions and the worst of his fears. That he was brilliant as the estate manager and guardian to Georgie was evident, but there was a sadness and stoic quality to him that even I could not crack significantly. A mere smile or laugh was a rare event, and I think he was frankly relieved when I returned to India.

Estella's letter after the wedding filled me with some hope, her impression of the new Mrs. Darcy and William's emotions all favorable. She also related that Elizabeth was neither of society nor even the best family. Lady Catherine flatly refused to acknowledge the union, shockingly, I write with towering sarcasm! Anyway, I am repeating myself. I guess it is just the surprise of the development that still staggers me. James, of course, had married for love, but I know how rare that is. Would even my dear brother have done so if Lady Anne Fitzwilliam were not of the highest caliber and breeding? I do not know. Regardless, William has found his match in every way in Elizabeth. Theirs appears to be the deepest of loves. I cannot be happier for them.

Ah, Jharna, how amazing it is to be in the bosom of my family! For too many years I have been adrift with only you to really turn to. Now you are gone and I have longed for the reestablishment of roots. Who would have thought it? And I know you are laughing from wherever you now reside! Be that as it may, I must attempt to smother my sentimental tendencies and write of my days here clinically, or I will fill the remaining pages with nonsense.

My dearest Georgiana has evolved into a woman in my absence. She is more beautiful and graceful then I would have imagined her awkward and skinny little-girl shape to grow into. So like Anne in every way. William's personality was always more of a melding of James and Anne, his humor and playfulness there, but reserved. More like my sister Mary or brother Phillip. Actually, as I think on it, he receives that trait from my mother! Interesting. Or, with further staring into space recollections, very like the old Lord Matlock, Anne's father. There was an intimidating man! I doubt he ever cracked a smile, as the world is yet in one piece.

No, Georgie is a straight replica of dear Anne. Blonde, blue-eyed, dainty, soft-spoken, charming, innocent, yet with a sharp humor, intelligence, and quick wit hidden behind her naivete. It is providential that I arrived at this moment in her life. She is the proverbial girl on the cusp of womanhood: one hour a silly child and the next wise and mature. I am gleaning via oblique hints that William and Elizabeth walked a rocky course on their way to felicity, Georgiana the stabilizer for my nephew's turbulent soul. I do not know the details, although the curiosity is killing me (do not snicker, Jharna). I will figure it out in due time!

The first several days of our dwelling have been hectic, hence why I have yet to create an entry here until today. Within days of my arrival I met Elizabeth's entire family, Lady Catherine and her daughter Miss Anne, a number of William's friends and business associates, Mr. Bingley and Miss Bingley, and my old friend Malcolm Fitzwilliam and his family. The Darcys hosted a ball that Raul and I were in time to attend. It was marvelous to see old faces again, even Lady C. She has always been fodder for entertainment; this time it was a confrontation and subsequent dubious apology for some sort of infraction against Elizabeth. I am still working out the details, but apparently she refused to acknowledge William's marriage, basing her disdain for Elizabeth's country upbringing, as well as a misguided belief that Anne and William were destined to wed. I recall James speaking of this a time or two with humor, saying once that it would be incestuous considering how close the two were as youngsters. Be that as it may, Lady C never gave up the idea even after William made it abundantly clear his leanings were elsewhere. The boy has a mind of his own, make no mistake! Even I could have told Lady C that.

Mr. Bingley has matured nicely since I met him two years ago, and married Elizabeth's sister Jane! Mrs. Bingley is a blonde beauty with stunning blue eyes, far quieter than Elizabeth but well suited for Mr. Bingley. The two seem very happy, and I can only imagine how delighted all the individuals involved must feel to be so closely intertwined. Mr. Bingley's sister is a beauty as well. Striking red hair rarely seen without the accompanied poor complexion Miss Bingley thankfully is not stricken with. She, however, is the quintessential product of the English ton. Always the excellent diagnostician of character, it was clear to me that Miss Bingley fancied William and was less than pleased by him choosing Elizabeth rather than her. It was all so amusing. Of course, she is the sort I expected William to end up with, and after studying all the varied interactions, I can only be thoroughly elated that William's backbone and good sense prevailed. With each passing day I am coming to admire the boy more and more. James would be so very proud of his son. Pity how those events unfolded.

Elizabeth has a large family. Her mother is rather ridiculous, but her father is an interesting man. There is no doubt where Elizabeth gets her character from. We older gentlemen hit it off quite well, kindred spirits to a degree. She has two younger sisters, but I frankly had little time to become acquainted. The room was filled to overflowing. I am certain Darcy House has not seen such an extravaganza in years. Elizabeth was the perfect hostess, William his usual reserved self but with a foolish grin frequently gracing his features and eyes that lit up whenever he gazed upon his wife, which was constantly. I can remember James having much the same expression whenever he even thought of Anne. I was young enough then to tease him mercilessly about it! Now I guess I am a bit wiser and assuredly older, so these displays of affection do not annoy me as profoundly. In truth, the heart gets all fluttery, but I would not admit that anywhere but within these pages! Still, as moving as it is, even this new sentimental me is relieved to know I was never blatantly moony every time you were nearby, Jharna.