When he revealed that it was most likely Paul would have to leave England and live in Italy, she wept again, softly this time, but with a despairing sadness that was unbearable to see.
“If he does go to Italy, how will it help?” she asked and Richard explained gently that it would only extend his life for some months and keep him more comfortable, since the salubrious climate would retard the progress of the disease.
“He would have greater enjoyment of the time he has left and that time may be a little longer than if he remained here.”
She nodded, accepting his word, saying nothing, but the sorrow in her eyes was unmistakable. It was almost sunset when he left, embracing her and promising to do all he could for Paul's comfort.
On the following day, Richard and his patient left for London.
The weeks that followed were some of the most difficult in Richard Gardiner's life.
The physician they consulted in Harley Street confirmed his diagnosis. The disease had affected both Paul's lungs and unless he got away, out of the cold and damp of the oncoming English Winter, to somewhere warm and dry, he would not survive beyond the next few months.
“Sunshine, medication, and good nourishment can sometimes work miracles, Dr Gardiner,” he said. “At the very least, it will let your patient live comfortably for much longer than if he remained in England.”
Knowing well his own condition, Paul Antoine took the news with an amazing degree of stoicism and courage, agreeing with Richard that it would be best that he did as the doctor ordered. Yet, as they returned to their lodgings, he could speak only of Emily and the grief he knew she would feel at their parting.
“I am aware, my dear friend, it is my fault; probably I should never have permitted her to know my true feelings. But your sister is such a woman, a lady of such great sensitivity, she could read my thoughts before I spoke them aloud and when she came to visit me, it was in vain to pretend. It will be difficult for her, she knows I love her; I have told her so, but she knows also there is no future for us. It is my fault, I should have known better,” he said.
Richard assured him that no one would blame either of them for falling in love.
“It is one of those situations in life over which we have very little control. Besides, Emily and you have been remarkable; you both knew the truth and yet grew to care for each other. Who can blame you for such selflessness? I do not know too many people who could do as you have done.”
Going round to the Fitzwilliams' town house, Richard discovered that, fortuitously, they were due back in London from Kent that very night. On the following morning, he called on them after breakfast.
When he told them why he was in London and revealed the news about Paul and Emily, both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Caroline were aghast.
“I cannot believe it, Richard,” she cried, saying again and again, “it is just not fair!”
“Is there no cure at all?” asked Fitzwilliam, who could not accept that such a fine young man could be struck down so cruelly.
Richard shook his head, “Sadly, there is not. If he goes to Italy, it will probably extend his life and improve the quality of it for a while.”
“And if he does not?”
“He will most likely die before Christmas.”
Caroline could think only of the suffering of her sister, alone at Pemberley.
“Fitzy, I believe we must return home. Emmy needs me” she said.
Her husband agreed at once and preparations were set in train to leave London the following day.
Reaching Derbyshire, having broken journey briefly for some refreshment and to change horses, they went directly to Pemberley, where Caroline, eager to see her sister, hurried upstairs to her room.
Expecting to find her inconsolable, Caroline was astonished to find Emily packing a trunk with clothes and linen, clearly preparing for a journey.
“Emily!” she cried, and as the two sisters embraced and clung together, their tears flowed, even though they had said not a word.
“Richard has told me, oh my dear sister.” She got no further, for Emily placed a finger on her lips and asked, “Is Richard here?”
“Yes, with Paul and Fitzwilliam, downstairs in the saloon. We travelled together from London,” Caroline replied.
In seconds, Emily had washed her face, tidied her hair, and insisted upon going down to see them.
They found the three gentlemen taking tea and refreshments, which Mrs Reynolds had thoughtfully provided for the travellers.
When Emily entered the room, she went directly to her brother and Paul. Standing beside them, she declared that she had made a decision and wanted to tell them about it.
She knew, she said, that Paul would have to leave England and travel to Italy for the sake of his health and she had decided to go with him.
Seeing the looks of amazement on every face in the room and hearing Caroline gasp, she added quickly, “Have no fear, Caroline, I am not proposing to outrage my family by doing something foolish and unseemly; Paul and I will be married by special licence and I shall go as his wife, so I can look after him in Italy. I have asked Mr Jenkins and Kitty to make the necessary arrangements for our wedding in the chapel at Pemberley next week. Richard, I must ask you please to arrange our travel and accommodation. We shall be ready to leave as soon as the wedding is over.”
She spoke so calmly and with such determination that no one felt they could interrupt her. She had taken Paul's hand in hers as she spoke.
When she had finished speaking, Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, “Emily, are you quite sure?”
She smiled then and replied, “I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life, Colonel Fitzwilliam. We love each other and I cannot let him go away to suffer alone. Paul needs me and I want to be with him, to care for him for however long or short a time it may be.”
There was silence in the room. Clearly, there was nothing any of them could say that would change her mind.
Looking at Monsieur Antoine, Caroline could see how he felt; unbelievably happy to know he was so dearly loved, yet in such agony that Emily was doing this for him. He tried to speak, to say something, to protest that she must not sacrifice herself, but she would not let him. Instead, she bent down and kissed his cheek and then turned to embrace her brother and sister, leaving no one in any doubt of the strength of her resolve.
Richard held her close and said softly, so only she would hear, “If you are quite sure, Emmy, I shall arrange everything for you,” and she thanked him, sincerely, “Thank you, Richard, I am not only sure, I am eager for us to be married as soon as possible, so I can start caring for my husband. It is what I want to do. I have not wanted anything so much in my whole life.”
That night, back at their farm, Caroline and Fitzwilliam could not resist returning again and again to the events of that afternoon. They had both been deeply moved, but the colonel was concerned lest Emily was acting on impulse, driven by compassion.
“How is it possible for her to be so certain? Is it not probable that she will regret her decision when it is too late? What consequences might flow from this for her in later life?” All these questions troubled him.
But his wife had other ideas. “What is there to regret, Fitzy?” she asked. “They love each other. She wishes to look after him for however long he lives; I think she will suffer far greater anguish were she to stay at home in England, knowing that Paul is in Italy, dying alone.”
Fitzwilliam seemed to accept her argument; then suddenly, he asked, “Would you have done the same for me, Caroline?”
She was outraged that he should ask such a question. She could not believe he was other than serious at such a time.
“Fitzy, of course I would. Did you think I would say no? Had you returned from the colonies with some dreaded fever, did you think I would have let you go away and die alone in some foreign country?”
Seeing her tears and regretting his half-serious question, he reached out and held her close, knowing h
ow deeply she felt for her sister. He apologised, realising he had been wrong to make light of it. He tried to comfort her, but in vain, for Caroline could think only of Emily's sorrow and the terrible pain it would cause her parents.
“Poor Mama and Papa, how will they bear it? And poor Richard, how will he tell them?” she cried and nothing her husband could say would assuage her grief.
When Richard Gardiner returned to Oakleigh the following morning and revealed to his parents what Emily intended to do, Mrs Gardiner cried out, “Oh, no, no!” burst into tears, and covered her face with her hands. Her husband, whose devotion to his wife and family was a byword among all who knew him, was struck dumb for several minutes.
A businessman of good sense and perception, this was not the type of crisis he had ever expected to face; he had no experience that had prepared him for it or taught him what to say or do in such a dire circumstance as this.
While Richard waited, knowing well the severity of the blow his words had dealt his parents, his mother had fled the room, unable to contain her grief.
Mr Gardiner, grave-faced, turned to his son and asked, “What is your honest opinion, Richard? Is Emily right?”
“It is not my opinion that matters, Papa. It is not for me to say if Emily is right or wrong; she is twenty-five years old and says she has decided to marry Paul. I cannot see how we can stop her. Furthermore, it is probably not in her interest that we do thwart her, since if we succeed and Paul dies alone in Italy, she will forever blame us for keeping her from going to him. Moreover, she may sink into some kind of depression and suffer a deep sense of guilt as well,” he explained.
“But if she does go, if she marries him as she says she will, what problems might she face?”
Mr Gardiner was concerned with the practicalities for the future as well as their present predicament.
Richard assured his father that he would do everything possible to assist and protect her. He had, he said, good contacts among the medical fraternity in Europe and could ensure Paul was well looked after. As for their comfort, Paul had sufficient means to take a suitable house, employ some servants, and pay for all his medical requirements.
Mr Gardiner sighed. “Well, Richard, if she must go, we must provide her with everything she needs and ensure that they are both well attended upon. One of my men can travel with them to ensure they are safe. Make whatever arrangements you think fit, spare no expense. I cannot have Emily lodged in some pensione with dark rooms and no ventilation. For whatever time they have left together, they must be secure and comfortable,” he said.
Richard agreed, adding quietly, “Mama will not be happy,” but his father intervened, “Of course, what else would you expect? She thinks her child is throwing her life away, putting her health in jeopardy. I am not happy myself, but I would not hurt Emily by expressing my displeasure, when she has so much to bear already. I shall talk to your mother, Richard, but I must rely on you to ensure that everything is done to assist Emily and Paul. They are both fine young people and entitled to be happy; they are not to blame for the cruel blow that Fate has dealt them.”
Touched by the compassionate response of his father, Richard assured him that he would do all that was required of him and left to return to the cottage at Littleford. There he found his friend, sitting up at a table in the front room, writing laboriously by the light of a small lamp.
He was making a will.
By the time the Darcys returned from the Lakes of Cumbria, Emily Gardiner had been married and she and her husband had already left for Italy.
Alerted by a hint of disquiet in a letter from her Aunt Gardiner, received at Ambleside, Elizabeth had soon sensed that something was wrong at Pemberley. Cutting short their tour of the lakes, the Darcys had returned to find the birds had flown. Only Mrs Reynolds and Kitty remained to give them Emily's letter, until Richard arrived later to explain, clearly and without any subterfuge, his sister's decision—a decision that shocked and appalled her cousin Elizabeth.
Unable to comprehend it, she was compelled to admit to her husband that she felt Emily had blighted her life by her precipitate action; it was a remark she regretted as soon as she had uttered the words.
Mr Darcy was immediately censorious of what seemed to him like uncharacteristic callousness on her part.
“Dearest Elizabeth, that is not fair, nor is it worthy of you,” he had said, and when Caroline arrived on the morrow, Elizabeth, seeing how differently she had responded, felt ashamed of her rush to judgment.
To Caroline, Emily's actions were evidence of her selflessness; she had placed love above self-interest and, in so doing, had established its preeminence in her life.
“No matter how short-lived, a marriage founded upon such genuine love could only enhance Emily's life,” said Caroline.
In her heart, Elizabeth knew this to be true and wanted desperately to believe that Emily would find happiness, however briefly, in her marriage. She deserved nothing less. But her head was not so easily satisfied.
A note Richard had delivered to Caroline from their sister brought some consolation.
Dearest Caroline, Emily wrote, in a hand that was surprisingly firm:
You must not feel sorry for me, believing that I am making some terrible mistake or sacrificing myself for Paul. That would be wrong, utterly wrong.
The truth is I have experienced so much satisfaction and genuine happiness since we set out from Pemberley that I know I have done the right thing.
Indeed, feeling as I do, it would have been unthinkable that I could have let him go alone to face his fate. It would have left me bereft and miserable.
Dear Caroline, forgive my secrecy; it was well meant, to protect Paul and keep my dear family from suffering undue anxiety, but I have known for months that I loved him and even though I would not say it, despite his having told me many times of his feelings, I think Paul knew too.
Now it is acknowledged, we are both happier than ever before. Caroline, if I were to live to be eighty and never love another man for the rest of my life, I shall still have the bright memory of the love I have shared with Paul. However long or brief our marriage may be, nothing will ever eclipse the light it has brought into my life.
You must tell them all, Cousin Lizzie, Kitty, Mr Darcy, Cassy, William, and especially Mama and Papa, who have been so good to me, how very happy I am, we both are. There has not been one single moment of regret, not one!
We both send you all our love and I thank you with all my heart for your love and understanding.
Your loving sister,
Emily.
Caroline needed no more evidence to convince her that Emily was right.
Throughout the Summer of 1834 and well into Autumn, Emily wrote to her brother, her parents, Caroline, and Elizabeth warm, enthusiastic letters, recounting pleasant days in the sun and recording a slow but steady improvement in her husband's health. The doctors in Italy were satisfied that the progress of the inexorable disease had been slowed at least, if not halted.
As every scrap of information gleaned from her letters was eagerly shared with every other member of the family, most began to feel more comfortable with the situation. It appeared as though Paul's condition was improving, however slowly, and there was new hope.
Only Richard had warned them that it was best not to place too much credence on the good news.
“It is typical of this wretched disease,” he said as they sat together, after dinner at Pemberley, discussing Emily's latest optimistic letter,
“It seems to withdraw for a month or two, occasionally even for several months, when the patient recovers his colour and appetite; but then, with no warning, it returns, often with redoubled vigour.”
Caroline and Elizabeth begged him not to tell his mother of his reservations.
“It would take away the little comfort she gets from Emily's letters, which she reads avidly two or three times over; at least they give her some hope,” said Caroline and Richard agreed.
&nbs
p; He admitted he had cautioned his father though; it would not be right to keep him in ignorance, he said.
“I hope Papa will in time advise Mama, so she will not be too shocked when the crisis comes, as it must, in the end.”
Gradually, as the year moved deeper into Autumn, their anxiety for Emily and Paul abated somewhat, as they turned to the prodigious task of organising the first Harvest Fair and the annual Ball at Pemberley.
Having initiated it, Elizabeth, finding herself without Emily's valuable help, had to call upon her sisters and cousins to assist her.
My Cousin Caroline: The acclaimed Pride and Prejudice sequel series The Pemberley Chronicles Book 6 Page 14