Mr and Mrs Allen invited Mr Gartner for dinner on Friday, all I can say is that he is an admirable gentleman, with impeccable manners and the most agreeable countenance. Susan, I do not think that I exaggerate if I tell you that I truly believe him to be one of the most pleasant, nay, charming men I have ever encountered. He asked about you, and I told him that you led a very quiet life these days, on account of your nursing poor Lady Bertram. He assented with compassion and feeling, and said how you used to do the same with your many siblings. He is such a wonderful man! You must tell me all about him. Everything you know about his family, how he came to have his current position, all that you manage to find out about his connections. He spoke highly of Mrs Robinson, his protector’s widow. Do you know her at all? I think I am quite at risk of falling violently in love with Mr Gartner.
I sighed. The thought of Harriet and Jamie exchanging confidences under Mrs Allen’s contented eye did not fill me with joy, and for that I was ashamed. I had never confided in Harriet, and so I could not possibly expect her not to flirt with the person I had once loved. I continued to read Harriet’s letter. After two pages filled with meticulous descriptions of the dresses and fashions she had observed in town, no doubt an activity much encouraged by Mrs Allen, there was a short gap. The letter was reprised three days later.
Mr Gartner has just written to say he is unable to accompany us to the theatre tomorrow night as he had promised, for an urgent business has called him to Southampton. I am ever so disappointed! I very much hope that he will return soon, for my heart breaks at the thought of not seeing him for a couple of weeks. Worse still, if he does not return by the end of the month, I risk even not seeing him at all, for I shall be back in Fullerton very soon, unless James invites me to stay with him and his wife. She is to go into confinement soon, and will be wanting a companion, but the summer in town is so unpleasant! As for tonight’s outing, my brother has offered Mr Gartner’s theatre seat to a Mr Gill, a junior lawyer who works with him. James has promised me that I will find him very charming, although I cannot for the life of me imagine a lawyer described as such. I also doubt very much that Mr Gill will have the air, the manners, the countenance of my beloved Mr Gartner. But now I must leave you, my friend, or this letter will never find its way to you. Please write at your earliest convenience, I want to know everything there is to know about dear Mr Gartner. And do tell me about life in Bath, of course.
Yours, etc.
H.M.
I folded the letter. It had left me with an uneasy feeling. My suspicions about Miss Morland and Jamie had some substance, after all. If only I could know for sure his feelings for her and the exact intentions of the mysterious Mrs Robinson.
Later, with Julia and Miss Bingley gone for a walk, I was sitting in the drawing room with my uncle and aunt when, to his mother’s delight, Tom made an appearance. It was still early, but my cousin served himself a glass of whisky and went to stand by the fireplace. Sir Thomas, who was sitting nearby, tried to engage his eldest son in conversation and began to speak to him about a book he had recently read.
“It was a most instructive read. It discusses the influence of chemistry, heat, light, electricity and different substances on the growth and health of vegetation of all kinds. The part about soil quality and how to improve it contained some of one of the enlightening arguments I have ever encountered on the matter. I shall send a copy to Ferguson in Antigua to see what he thinks.”
“It sounds fascinating, sir.”
Tom took a drink from his glass and continued to stare at the flames. Sir Thomas’s eyes narrowed.
“In fact, I would like us to discuss our West Indian affairs in some detail. It has been five years since my last trip to Antigua. Ferguson assures me that everything is going to his satisfaction, but I have noticed some irregularities regarding the management of the estate and I fear that he is taking ample liberties in his role. I believe a personal visit is most advisable at this point.”
“I agree, sir. A most reasonable suggestion.”
“I am glad that you share my concerns. I shall write to Ferguson at once and tell him that you plan to inspect our properties as soon as it is feasible.”
Tom turned away from the fire to face his father. His face was suddenly livid, his eyebrows arched. Lady Bertram, who had followed the exchange, gently intervened.
“Dearest Sir Thomas, may I ask, is it really necessary for Tom to go on this journey? It is so very far, and his health is not as strong as it once was.”
“You are right, dearest, but someone must investigate what is happening, and I fear I am too old for another trip to the other side of the ocean. My last journey took a toll on me.”
“I could not agree more, Sir Thomas,” replied Lady Bertram. “The sea air did your joints no good, but cannot you find someone trustworthy to go on behalf of the family?”
“Perhaps Shillington would be equal to such a journey,” said Tom.
“I need Shillington at Mansfield Park,” replied his father.
“Then, let us find someone else. Edmund is in good health. Perhaps he would oblige.”
“Your brother has a wife and a young son, as well as a whole parish to look after. Moreover, I know his views on the estate are not what they used to be,” sighed Sir Thomas. “I am afraid that Fanny is the only family member to take an interest in the matter, but her opinions are quite opposed to our interests and Edmund is mostly in perfect agreement with her. It is best not to mention the matter to them.”
“In that case, I beg you to leave it with me, sir.”
My cousin left the empty glass on the console by the door, kissed his mother’s hand and left.
In the afternoon, Miss Bingley no longer had the look of despair she had the breakfast table, but she was still very pale and there were deep blue circles beneath her big green eyes. I was on the window seat, with my sketch book on my lap, trying to capture the majesty of the large oak standing right across from the house. I had taken great care to leave the leather pouch in my bedroom, lest Julia discover that it was mysteriously back in my possession, but my cousin looked at me with distaste when I opened the box of watercolours her father had gifted me. I ignored her, determined not to allow her to prevent me from engaging in an activity that gave me pleasure.
A phaeton stopped outside and a man got out. I recognised the long nose, willowy figure and weathered skin of the visitor straightaway. My heart stopped beating for an instant, and I took a deep breath, telling myself that I must not fear Mr Cole’s visit. After all, he was well acquainted with Julia and Miss Bingley, and with them in the room I did not have to worry about having to make polite conversation with a man that both frightened and disgusted me. When the footman came in, rather than announce the visitor’s arrival, he went straight to Sir Thomas and whispered something in his ear. My uncle looked at the servant, nodded and excused himself. He was gone for the best part of half an hour, during which I never stopped glancing towards the door, but Mr Cole never made an appearance.
After a few days in Bath, Tom’s optimistic nature began to resurface. As well as engaging in a notable social life, he began to go for walks and do a great deal of shopping. He even accompanied me one morning to the print shop on Putney Bridge, where I was able to admire further prints by Mrs Merian and explain to the very interested shopkeeper the type of botanic illustrations I was working. The shopkeeper also applauded my uncle’s engagement of Herr Schäffer as drawing master. Tom, for his side, spoke to the man as he had known him all his life and declared my drawings perfectly equal to Mrs Merian’s prints in terms of quality and detail, making me blush. We parted as friends, and I gave the shop owner my assurances that he would be the first to know if I was ever keen on turning my drawings into prints.
Tom was also particularly solicitous towards his mother and Miss Bingley, whose despair was painful to watch whenever Mr Darcy was in attendance. Mr Darcy continued to be deeply absorbed by his own thoughts, and barely civil as a result, while M
r Bingley appeared oblivious to the drama that was playing in plain view. Tom, however, seemed very much aware of it, and I wondered if his attentive demeanour towards Miss Bingley sprang from the realisation that she was experiencing a similar ordeal to his. Miss Bingley did not rebuke his attentions, but she was still fixated on Mr Darcy. I watched with some interest and wondered much about what the mysterious Miss Elizabeth Bennet must be like. She had to be pretty, but there must be something else about her. Perhaps she had a refined education, or played beautifully, or sang like an angel. She surely must have a talent or other to have so entranced a man like Mr Darcy.
One morning, Mr Bingley arrived with the news that Mr Darcy had left Bath.
“What do you mean, he has left Bath?” exclaimed Miss Bingley in a shrill voice.
“He had some urgent business to attend to, but assured that his invitation to join him in Pemberley in August stands as firm as ever,” apologetically explained Mr Bingley.
“But what can he possibly need to be in town for?”
“You forget that Miss Darcy is going to be there as well.”
“Of course! That must be it. It will be charming to see her. She will be dying to show me her new pianoforte.”
“Is Miss Darcy a very accomplished young lady?”
I knew Tom well enough to know that he was jesting, but Miss Bingley replied with enthusiasm.
“Miss Darcy is the most accomplished young lady you could ever fathom. She plays the harp as well as the pianoforte, and her voice is heavenly. I cannot wait to see her in Pemberley. I very much look forward to the tranquility of the countryside. I do not think I can put up with life in town for much longer.”
“Dear Miss Bingley, there is no reason why you should! Derbyshire is not the only county in England boasting the charms of tranquil rural life. If you wish to escape at the earliest convenience, allow me to extend an invitation to our family home.”
“Tom is right!” exclaimed Julia. “I cannot fathom why I had not thought of it before. There is no reason why we cannot spend a few weeks at Mansfield Park. It is on the way to Pemberley, and it will be a way to break up the tiresome journey north. Mamma, there would be no objections to us spending a month in the Park, would there? Oh, do not look so sad. You have Papa and Susan to tend to your every need, does she not, Tom?”
“I could not agree more with Julia. I have seen for myself that your Bath residence is perfectly comfortable, madam, and my mind is at ease seeing you so well looked after by my fair cousin. Moreover, you are obtaining such excellent results from your combined treatments that it would be a pity to interrupt them before they run their full course. As for me, I have been absent from Mansfield Park for too long, and I know it will make my father very happy if I return to oversee the estate on his behalf.”
“I must write to Mr Yates at once,” said Julia. “I will tell him to join us directly at Mansfield Park when Parliament ends. I will also send a note to Mrs Wilkinson so she can make all the necessary preparations. Miss Bingley can have Maria’s room. I mean, the yellow room. She will love the views. We will of course invite your brother, too, dear Caroline, and Mr Darcy and Mr Cole.”
“Cole will decline the invitation for sure. He is very busy at present, and I should know,” said Tom.
My ears sharpened at the mention of Mr Cole.
“On my recommendation,” continued Tom, “Father is considering engaging Cole’s services to assist him on a very delicate matter. Do not ask me what it is, dear sister, for I was expressly asked not to discuss it until he hears back from Edmund, but I dare say an agreement shall be reached soon enough.”
“I thought Mr Cole was a man of leisure, and he only had the affairs of his aunt and sickly cousins to worry about.”
“Some men cannot stay still, Julia, and you ought to know that by now,” said Tom with a smirk, to which Julia responded with a dirty look.
In spite of Lady Bertram’s pitiful looks, a week later Mr Bingley, Miss Bingley, Tom and Julia left Bath for Mansfield Park, having received extensive assurances from Mr Darcy that he would join them there for a few days before continuing the journey to Pemberley. Perhaps keen to have the Camden Place house to himself again, Sir Thomas contentedly waved them off and returned to his newspaper with a sigh of satisfaction. As for me, although I was sorry to see my cousin Tom go, I could not say the same about Julia.
Chapter 15
“So, Susan, what shall we do today? Someone is rather keen for a walk, are you not?”
The puppy responded to Lady Bertram’s high pitched voice with an enthusiastic waggle of its tail. It was a joy of a dog to have around, with its good looks and sweet temper, always so eager to please, and in the short space of a few weeks it had become a firm favourite with my aunt. Her eyes swelled up with tears at the thought of her trusted old pug much more rarely now.
Lady Bertram and I took a stroll down to the Paragon and, with our arms interlinked, we began to walk downhill. It was still early, and there were a few clouds in the pale blue sky, but there was a mugginess in the air that announced that the temperature would rise in just a few hours.
“The house is so very quiet and empty without any guests,” sighed Lady Bertram. “I rather miss Julia. Her friend Miss Bingley is also very pleasant. Such exquisite taste in gowns, and such good posture. Sir Thomas and my sister chose the Mansfield Park governess, and I always thought her a very learned woman when it came to books. However, I fear she did not pay enough attention to my girls’ posture.”
I dared not enquire further, fearing that Lady Bertram’s mood might turn. Maria’s spectre was visiting us once more, like a ghostly presence that persists in returning to haunt those who are still alive.
When we returned to Camden Place, there was a letter from my cousin Julia from Mansfield Park, which Lady Bertram asked me to read out to her.
Dear Mamma,
I am quite agitated! One of my London servants has arrived with the news that Mr Yates has had an unfortunate accident and is bed-ridden with what looks like a broken leg. He was to join us in Mansfield Park this Thursday coming, and all arrangements had been made for us to continue travelling north to Pemberley in a few days with the rest of the party. However, due to this calamitous event, I am now expected to go back to London. I am so very disappointed! Pemberley is one of the grandest houses in the country, and I was very much looking forward to staying there as a guest of Mr Darcy. I was also keen to meet Miss Darcy, whom Miss Bingley considers one of the most accomplished young women she has ever met. I will now have to wait who knows how long before we are introduced in society, because she is not out yet.
At least, in my absence, Caroline will have the consolation of Mr Darcy’s presence. He rejoined our party just yesterday, and I am pleased to report that his mood is much improved. He looks less miserable than upon his return from Essex, and although he is a man of few words, at times he even engages in conversation. He is due to depart for Pemberley in just a week, and Mr and Miss Bingley will follow him a few days later, just as I return to London. Tom was initially going to travel up north to Pemberley with the rest of the party, but believe it or not, after a long chat with Shillington, he has decided that he is needed at Mansfield Park. I ignore if his decision is a result of his new found sense of responsibility or Miss Bingley’s evident delight at seeing Mr Darcy again, but the fact is that nobody in our family will see Pemberley this summer.
Now I must leave you, for I have much to organise before I return to London. I am so disappointed! I am yet to find out the circumstances which resulted in Mr Y’s broken leg. Oh, Mamma, I suspect I shall not like them one bit. How have you and Papa managed to remain happily married all these years? I very much hope to see you soon so you may enlighten me.
Your loving daughter,
Julia
I glanced in the direction of Lady Bertram. If my aunt, ever the devoted wife, was slightly shocked at her daughter’s evident annoyance and lack of concern for her husband, she certainly did
not show it.
There were another two sheets of paper attached to the original letter. The first one was a note from Julia and read thus:
Dear Mamma,
As promised, here is your letter from M. Please keep it safe.
Your loving daughter,
Julia
The third one was a carefully folded letter written in an elegant, steady hand that looked much like Julia’s. It was the type of handwriting that gives away a privileged female education and upbringing. I looked at my aunt. She, too, had seen it, and had grown paler.
“Would you like to read the letter, Aunt?” I gently asked her, handing her the piece of paper.
Lady Bertram shook her head, slowly.
“You read it first, Susan. Only allow me to read it if its contents are not likely to upset me too much.”
I nodded. There was no need to ask who the letter was from. I began to read in silence.
Dear Mamma,
I barely know where to begin. When Julia volunteered to be the bearer of this clandestine correspondence I hesitated, for I would not wish for the world to cause you or my sister any problems with my father. I am fully aware that I have been the source of much misery; misery that you never deserved. However, my wish to write to you directly, dear Mamma, is so strong, so overpowering, that I could not pass this opportunity by.
I know my father tells you very little about my life with Aunt Norris, and of course he is within his right. I wronged you all and sullied our family name with thoughtless, stupid actions, actions that were encouraged by a man who is evil himself. After all these years, however, I have forgiven him, just as I have forgiven myself. Before the distressing events from five years ago, I did not appreciate my luck nor value my blessings. I had to lose everything to realise that I was once the happiest and most care-free young woman on Earth, and that my grief was my own creation. But let us not dwell on such sad matters.
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