But, while Britain, now perhaps the most commercially advanced nation on earth, experienced a period of bountiful prosperity, the families at Oakleigh, Matlock, and Pemberley were not destined to enjoy unalloyed happiness as their reward.
For them, the storm clouds were gathering.
LATE IN THE AUTUMN OF 1833, not long after the families had attended the baptism of Sophia Bingley, daughter of Jane and Charles Bingley, news was received at Pemberley of the death of Mrs Bennet.
While this was not of itself unexpected, for Mrs Bennet had been ailing for some years, beset with a respiratory disease that had long since replaced her “poor nerves” as her chief source of complaint, it did precipitate a particularly unpleasant series of incidents. Unforeseen and therefore more shocking, it disturbed the peaceful lives of Mrs Bennet's elder daughters and their families to a considerable degree.
Caroline, who had not travelled to Longbourn for the funeral, heard most of it from her cousin Elizabeth and more later from her mother. The Fitzwilliams were in London for the Autumn session of Parliament and met with young Jonathan Bingley when they dined with Mr and Mrs Darcy at their town house in Portman Square.
Elizabeth had revealed how Mr Bennet had sagaciously, and some would say mischievously, outwitted the Wickhams, who had attempted after Mrs Bennet's funeral to insinuate themselves by devious means into Longbourn and gain a foothold there.
“They intended, under the guise of caring for Papa, to occupy Longbourn and so stake their claim for their son Henry Wickham to inherit the property,” she explained, “but, by announcing his intention to leave Longbourn to Jonathan, his eldest daughter's son, with life interest to my sister Mary, as long as she is single, Papa has cleverly frustrated the machinations of Lydia and Wickham. That the couple will not be pleased is without question,” said Elizabeth, “but far more satisfying is the fact that Longbourn will remain a peaceful haven for Papa and Mary; there is no means by which Lydia and her brood can invade it now. Mr Grimes, Papa's attorney, is to write to Lydia advising her of the situation, and dear Jonathan will, on his eighteenth birthday, take over the management of the estate, freeing Papa from that onerous task.”
Caroline, who had had little contact with her errant cousin Lydia since her infamous elopement and marriage to Mr Wickham, was very impressed.
“It certainly does seem as though my dear uncle Bennet has been most astute, does it not?” she said and Mr Darcy agreed.
“He has indeed, Caroline, and while I have absolutely no desire to meet Mr and Mrs Wickham, I would pay to see their faces when they receive the news.” There was laughter as everyone recalled that there was no love lost between Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham.
Fitzwilliam spoke for them all when he raised his glass to propose a toast to young Mr Jonathan Bingley, whose universal popularity in the family made him an excellent choice, and to celebrate “a happy and satisfying conclusion all round.”
So, despite Lydia's persistent complaints, was a most vexing problem peacefully resolved.
There was, however, another matter on which Caroline was not inclined to be quite so sanguine. It concerned her younger sister Emily, who had visited her at the farm in Matlock while the rest of the family had been away in Hertfordshire attending Mrs Bennet's funeral.
Emily Gardiner, now almost twenty-five years old, spent a good deal of her time at Pemberley, where she worked in the library, cataloguing a number of valuable items that had lain unused for many years. She also helped Mrs Jenkins—her cousin Kitty, who was married to the rector at Pemberley—run the parish school.
A gentle, quiet young woman, she had escaped the inevitable matchmaking efforts of friends and family by appearing to be completely content with her present situation. Her sister Caroline could not understand it; but on the advice of her mother and her husband, she made no attempt to quiz her sister about her preference for the single state.
One morning, Emily had arrived at Matlock to visit her sister accompanied by Monsieur Paul Antoine, the young Frenchman who had arrived in England with their brother Richard. A qualified and skilled apothecary, he had joined Richard at his practise in Birmingham.
In between times, he would take in the many delights of Pemberley and its environs, with Emily Gardiner as his guide.
His natural interest and her own obliging nature combined to make for a very easy association. Besides being a keen art lover, he had also a talent for scenic drawing, and on this day, Emily had promised to let him view the breathtaking landscape of the Peaks from the comfort of her sister's home.
“The outlook from the music room is unsurpassed—nowhere, not even at Pemberley, can one command such a prospect,” she had said, and Monsieur Antoine, when he had seen it, had to agree she was right. It was, he said, a vista that made him wish he was a painter, not just a scribbler. Having spent an hour or so sketching, he joined the sisters for tea, and while he made light of his own artistic talent, he left Caroline in no doubt of his gratitude for her hospitality.
In every way, a most charming and agreeable young man, Caroline had liked him very much. Observing him and her sister together on other occasions, she had detected in their behaviour towards one another the signs of genuine affection.
She had thought, at first, the attraction was only on his part, since Emily appeared not to encourage it. But, as she observed them in the more intimate atmosphere of her home, she noticed Emily's looks and expressions of pleasure, even delight, in his attentions, which Caroline did not fail to recognise and interpret appropriately.
Later, when she mentioned it to her husband, he had teased her for being such an incurable romantic; when she had insisted that this was no figment of her imagination, Fitzwilliam had accepted her judgment but advised her not to interfere.
“Do you not think, my love, that your sister, at twenty-five, is well able to manage her own romance, if that is what it is? After all, she has shown no interest in any man before. If she seems to like Monsieur Antoine, he must be different. Besides, your brother Richard must surely have vouched for his friend—he is unlikely to permit his sister to be taken advantage of,” he had said, being quite logical and reasonable.
In the flurry of excitement that accompanied the passage of Lord Althorp's Factory Act, Colonel Fitzwilliam paid little attention to the possible romance between his sister-in-law and the young Frenchman. Fitzwilliam, however, like Caroline herself, was ignorant of certain salient facts. Had he but known the truth, he may well have realised that Caroline's concern for her sister was not entirely misplaced.
It was almost Christmas when, having spent the last few weeks of Autumn in London, the Fitzwilliams returned to Derbyshire.
They were met with bad news. A coach, on its way to Staffordshire, had gone off the road into a deep gully near Kympton and several people had been injured. Some had been taken to the district hospital, but most of the travellers, having been treated at the church hall, had been removed to Pemberley, where they had been given shelter and food until they recovered and could resume their journey.
Friends and neighbours told of the excellent work done at the scene of the accident, in dreadful weather, by Dr Richard Gardiner and his assistant Monsieur Antoine. They were said to have saved the lives of many travellers that night who, already weakened by injury, might otherwise have perished in the cold.
Visiting Pemberley the following day, Caroline found her sister Emily busy attending upon some of the victims of the accident and, to her surprise, discovered that one of her patients was Monsieur Antoine himself.
“He has suffered severe exposure, working in the cold and wet with Richard,” she explained, “and is under doctor's orders not to leave his room. Richard believes he has a chill on the chest.”
While she sounded no more concerned than if he were any one of the others, Caroline, who went downstairs to tea with Elizabeth, heard enough from her cousin to confirm her suspicions that Emily and Paul Antoine were more than good friends. At the very least, he was in lov
e with her, while she was still undecided.
Elizabeth had no doubts about Emily's role in his recovery.
“It was Emily's care as much as Richard's treatment that saved him from pneumonia,” Elizabeth explained. “He had worked for hours with Richard, helping to treat and comfort the unfortunate travellers. Richard says he has a weak constitution and the exposure has affected his lungs. Emily insists that he does exactly as the doctor orders—she feeds him and gives him his potions and pills and he seems to enjoy it. He is certainly much improved this week,” she said, her eyes dancing with merriment.
When Emily joined them for tea, Caroline invited her to spend Sunday at the farm.
Emily accepted but, as her sister was leaving, came out to the carriage to say in a whisper, “I do not think I should bring Paul; he is much better, but still not strong enough to be out and about in this weather. However, I shall come; it will be nice to see the children again. I have missed them.”
Considering she had not invited Monsieur Antoine, Caroline was surprised to say the least, but she showed no astonishment at all, saying in a most matter-of-fact way, “Of course, Emmy, you are quite right. We shall look forward to having you. It is a very long time since we have had a real heart-to-heart talk. I have been away in London with Fitzy and you have been busy here at Pemberley—it is time we had a good, long talk together. I am looking forward to it very much.”
Even as she spoke, Caroline thought she noticed a look of some apprehension cross her sister's face, as though, for some unaccountable reason, she did not welcome the prospect of a “heart-to-heart” talk.
Could it be, Caroline wondered, that Emily already knew Paul Antoine was in love with her and was reluctant to speak of it, because she did not return his affection?
Perhaps, she surmised, he had already proposed and she had turned him down? Her romantic imagination conjured up a dozen different possibilities, all equally intriguing. She longed to know the truth.
When Sunday came around, Caroline waited with great anticipation but in vain; for when Emily did arrive, she brought with her Kitty's twin daughters, Eliza Anne and Maria Jane. The two girls, both very like their mother and one another, were not only accomplished in their school work, they could also sing and play. Emily, knowing of Caroline's plans for a small local chamber music group of young performers, had brought them along so her sister could hear them.
“I was sure you would like to hear them perform,” she explained, adding, “for ten-year-olds, they are very good indeed.”
Which they were; both children could play the piano and the recorder, while Maria Jane was learning the Irish harp as well, Caroline learned, and though their voices were soft, they were sweet and harmonised perfectly. “They are taught by their father, of course,” said Emily, reminding Caroline that Mr Jenkins, the rector, was himself a singer of renown.
Caroline could not fail to be impressed, as Emily had clearly intended that she should be, and the twins were delighted to be told they could join her chamber group. But this little scheme had completely upset Caroline's plan for a private tête-à-tête with her sister, and consequently, the subject of Paul Antoine was not mentioned at all.
Emily showed no sign of wanting to speak of him, and Caroline was afforded no appropriate opportunity of asking a single significant question on the subject.
However, Emily did bring some interesting news of a plan being hatched by their cousin Elizabeth and herself, with young Cassandra Darcy's enthusiastic support, to hold a Harvest Fair at Pemberley next Autumn.
“Cousin Lizzie says it will provide a good opportunity for the tenants and farm workers and their families to sell their produce and crafts without having to give some of their profits away to the merchants. Cassy is very excited and asked her father if we may have the Lower Meadow for the fair and he has agreed. We hoped, dear Caroline, that as the wife of our popular Member of Parliament, you will consent to open the fair.”
Caroline, though compelled by modesty to suggest they ask some other more important county dignitary, was easily persuaded to accept. Delighted to be so honoured, she predicted with confidence that it would be a wonderful occasion for the entire district and especially for Pemberley and its community.
“With the loss of jobs in so many of the mills and factories, it will give many people a chance to make some extra money. Times are hard for the poor and we must help,” she said.
Emily agreed, “Indeed we must. We were concerned, Lizzie and I, that Mr Darcy might be averse to the idea of letting hundreds of strangers tramp all over his grounds, but he was quite agreeable, Cassy said, so we shall be making great plans for next Autumn,” she declared adding, “and, Caroline, I do believe the Pemberley Ball will be held on the day after the fair.”
Caroline was amazed, not because of the Pemberley Ball, which was an annual event, but by the unmistakable excitement in her sister's voice.
Emily had never been keen on dancing and rarely attended balls except when she had to for family or charitable functions. Caroline, on the other hand, had always enjoyed the music and fun of a ball and was all astonishment to find her sister similarly affected on this occasion. Could it possibly have something to do with Paul Antoine, she wondered, and was about to ask if the gentleman would be present when Isabella and the Jenkins girls came racing into the room, pursued by an aggravated puppy that had to be rescued and comforted.
Later that evening, when Fitzwilliam returned and they sat down to dinner, Caroline told him of the planned Harvest Fair. He was most enthusiastic, claiming that many village folk, who owed their livelihood to Pemberley's prosperity, would be grateful for the opportunity and it was exceedingly good of Mr Darcy to agree to the scheme.
“We could benefit too, my dear. I believe we should set up a table to collect signatures for the People's Charter for Universal Suffrage,” he said. “It is a cause that is gaining support all around the country.”
Both Caroline and Emily saw the good sense of his suggestion and added it to their plans. As for the invitation for his charming wife to open the fair, “Well,” said the colonel, “I cannot honestly think of anyone more appropriate, can you?”
Which compliment so pleased his wife, she spent no more time that evening worrying about her sister's romance. It was time, instead, to make plans for what promised to be an exciting new year, and Caroline was full of ideas for her community.
Christmas came that year with not a very great deal of mirth or revelry around the country. Ominous signs in the nation's economy and some very unpredictable weather threw a pall over the festivities at Pemberley. Several of the children on the estate had contracted croup or influenza and could not attend their annual Christmas party, while one, sadly, succumbed before the apothecary, who had been held up by the appalling weather, could arrive.
Young Cassy Darcy, whose task it was to organise the entertainment for the children of the tenants and staff, was bitterly disappointed, complaining loudly to her parents that something had to be done about providing medical attention to sick children.
“It is not enough to say that the apothecary will look after them; clearly he cannot attend upon them all. Richard believes we need a children's hospital in this area, and Cousin Caroline agrees,” she said at breakfast on Christmas Eve, and turning to Mr Darcy added, “Papa, do you not think it is time we did something more for the children than pay for their funerals?”
Her father, not entirely surprised for he was aware already of Doctor Gardiner's views on the matter, was nevertheless shaken by the vehemence of Cassandra's advocacy.
“We do more than that already, Cassy, we pay for Mr Masterson, the apothecary, and for the medicines he provides to the children,” he replied, then seeing what looked like tears in her eyes, his tone softened as he told her of the plans he and Richard Gardiner had discussed following the accident at Kympton, for a hospital at Littleford.
“None of this is certain until I have Sir Thomas Camden's consent, but if he does agree,
and I can see no reason why he should not, since it will benefit his people as well as ours, we may well start work on a hospital at Littleford early in the new year.”
This information caused Cassandra to smile with surprise and say, “Papa, that is good news.”
Her father went on, “Indeed, but what is even better news is that Richard Gardiner has told me that if we were to build a hospital for the area, he would move from Birmingham to work here.”
Neither Mr Darcy nor Elizabeth could have failed to note the delight that this information seemed to cause as Cassy expressed astonishment and disbelief.
“Richard would move back to work at Littleford? That would be wonderful!” Her voice betrayed her feelings and there was a flush of pleasure upon her cheeks, which could not all be due to her concern for the health of the children of the Pemberley estate.
Mr and Mrs Darcy took note but said nothing.
My Cousin Caroline: The acclaimed Pride and Prejudice sequel series The Pemberley Chronicles Book 6 Page 12