“Lizzie, I have spoken of this to your uncle, Mr Gardiner, and he agrees with me. Indeed, he helps Lydia quite regularly,” he said, hoping to comfort and reassure her. As she had often done in the past, she accepted his judgement and was content.
The following day, on a mild Autumn morning, the Bingleys arrived, early as usual. While the gentlemen were out talking to Darcy’s manager, Mr Grantham, Elizabeth took Jane upstairs and showed her Mrs Brewerton’s letter.
Jane was even more shocked than her sister had been.
“Oh! Lizzie, how could he be so reckless, so lacking in self-control?” she cried, even as she agreed that some help had to be sent to Lydia and the children. Jane would, as she had done many times before, send Lydia some money out of her own income.
When Elizabeth explained what Darcy had done, she praised his generosity. “Lizzie, to think that for a while we actually believed all the vicious lies that Mr Wickham told about Darcy—and yet he is such a good man. We must surely have been blind!”
Elizabeth had the grace to blush even after all these years.
“We were—at least I was, Jane, blinded by prejudice and my desire to believe what Wickham, who was flattering me at every turn, was saying about Mr Darcy, who had hurt my vanity. I well recall that you were never so quick to condemn him.”
Jane would not let her sister blame herself alone, reminding her that all of Meryton had been taken in by Wickham’s guile.
As they wandered downstairs and out into the garden, where a large marquee was being erected on the west lawn, Jane took a letter out of her reticule and thrust it into Elizabeth’s hand.
“Lizzie, I am very sorry, but Emma will not be able to join us this evening. She is very disappointed, but it seems Mr Wilson cannot make the time—he is too busy with Parliamentary business to get away.”
Hurt and surprised, Elizabeth opened and read the letter, written in Emma’s pretty round hand.
My dearest Mama, she wrote:
I am uncertain if Mr Wilson will be free to accompany us to Pemberley for Julian’s birthday party; he has urgent business at Westminster, and since he will not hear of my travelling alone—even with my maid—I may not be able to attend, either.
Please do make my excuses to dear Aunt Lizzie and apologise to Richard and Cassy for me. I am truly sorry to miss little Lizzie’s christening on Sunday!
I had been looking forward to it so much, but I’m afraid I cannot see a way in which it can be done—unless I were to disguise myself as a post boy and hide away on the mail coach! I jest, of course, but only to hide my disappointment. Victoria and Stephanie are disappointed too.
I hope you will enjoy yourselves hugely. I shall be thinking of you every minute of the day and wishing I were there with you.
Your loving daughter,
Emma.
“Dearest Jane, I can see there is something wrong. What have you been keeping from me? Is Emma not happy in her marriage?”
At first, Jane seemed unable to speak. She was silent, but though there were no words, her eyes spoke volumes—showing pain and hurt.
Elizabeth took her aside, into a quiet grove, where they were well protected from interruption, and sat her down.
“Now Jane, I cannot bear to see you so unhappy and continue in ignorance. I must know if our dear Emma has a problem. Please, tell me what is wrong? Can we help in any way?”
Jane’s eyes were filled with tears, and when her sister embraced her, the pent up feelings, the fears and anxieties, which she had shared with no one, not even her beloved Bingley, poured out.
As Elizabeth listened, unable at first to say a word so stunned was she by what she was hearing, Jane told of her daughter’s unhappy marriage.
It seemed that Mr David Wilson had turned out to be both a jealous, domineering husband and an ambitious politician—a combination devoutly to be avoided.
As Jane told it, Emma had not been married long before she had felt the weight of both conditions; and yet, she had said nothing for years. “Lizzie, I cannot tell you how much I have suffered since she has told me what her life is like. She is careful not to let him find out that she speaks of it to me, lest he should become so enraged that he would forbid her to visit us. I cannot even speak of it to Bingley because Emma does not want her father to know. It would kill him to discover how unhappy she is.
“Yet, I have known since last Easter when she came to us while her husband was away in Europe. Lizzie, she would be totally miserable were it not for her two girls. Victoria and Stephanie are her only consolation. She lives for them.”
Jane could hide her grief no longer. “Oh Lizzie,” she sobbed, “I cannot think why this should have happened to our dear, beautiful Emma.”
Elizabeth could hardly believe her ears. Even as she tried to console her sister, she could not understand how she could have hidden her sorrow and that of her daughter all these months.
The sound of a carriage coming up the drive heralded the arrival of more guests, and the sisters had to postpone the rest of their discussion. Moving towards the house, they saw it was Richard and Cassandra, with their children. Elizabeth hurried towards them and Jane, following slowly, could not help envying their joy.
Seeing the delight on all their faces as they alighted and embraced Darcy and Elizabeth and watching the carefree children run out onto the lawn almost broke her heart as she remembered her daughter, alone in London but for her two little girls and a houseful of servants.
Once everyone had exchanged greetings—some twice over—Cassandra and Richard brought their two boys, Edward and Darcy, over to meet Jane. They were both lively and affectionate children.
“We felt Elizabeth Jane was a little too young to come to the party tonight,” Cassy explained, promising that her little daughter would be ready to appear at her christening tomorrow.
Richard was clearly proud of his two sons. Jane expressed surprise at how much they had grown since their last meeting. They were certainly good looking and well behaved children, and their parents beamed with pleasure as Jane hugged them both. Seeing their happiness, Jane fought to hold back her tears.
Why, she wondered, had her Emma not married someone safe and kind like Richard, instead of the ambitious Mr David Wilson. It had been considered a great match, at the time.
If only the truth were known.
Jane had spent a miserable summer, unable to confide in anyone—neither her husband nor her sister—because Emma had sworn her to secrecy. Fearful that her husband would discover what he would deem to be her disloyalty and forbid her to see her parents, Emma had begged her mother not to speak of her problems to anyone. Jane had heeded her pleas, until today. Forced to explain to her dearest sister the reason for Emma’s absence, she had not been able to conceal the truth any longer.
Elizabeth returned to take them indoors and, putting an arm around her sister, she whispered as they walked up to the house, “Darcy and Bingley are riding out to Kympton later; that will give us time to talk of this again.”
Perhaps for the first time in her life, Jane did not really look forward to a tête-à-tête with her sister. She was afraid Emma would be very upset.
Later, after luncheon, she was secretly relieved when the Gardiners arrived, together with Emily, her husband James Courtney, and their children—Elizabeth, William, and Jessica.
Their arrival kept Elizabeth occupied, while Emily, who had not seen Jane in several months, lost no time in engaging her cousin in conversation. Jane was eager to hear how Emily’s children were getting on, and Emily, who had been blessed with three talented and good-natured children, was happy to enlighten her. Her natural modesty would not let her boast about their achievements, but she was happy to relate that Elizabeth, her eldest, was very bright and studious and could sing as well, while William and little Jessica had both shown an interest and ability in music.
“It is quite diverting to watch them help each other when they are practising together. But I am really pleased that William shows what his teacher calls a genuine talent, rather than mere precociousness,” Emily explained, adding that Georgianna Grantley had also heard him play at a Pemberley children’s concert and been very impressed by his performance.
It seemed to Jane as if she could not get away from all these happy, loving parents and their darling children while her own granddaughters and their mother languished unhappily in London.
Which was why the arrival of her son Jonathan and his wife Amelia-Jane with their three children brought so much pleasure. The warmth of their greetings and the joy of seeing her dear grandchildren brought some comfort. “Anne-Marie, how you’ve grown—quite the young lady, is she not?” said Jane, and everyone agreed that she was.
While her brother Charles was very like their grandfather—cheerful and friendly—young Anne-Marie Bingley was showing evidence of the beauty and poise that had characterised her mother at a very young age.
Turning to little Teresa, who was several years younger than her siblings, Jane picked her up in her arms.
This little girl was very precious, since they had nearly lost her at birth. Still rather frail, though remarkably bright and active, Teresa was her grandmother’s favourite. Frequently, when her parents had to be away in London—when the Parliament was sitting—Teresa would stay with her at Ashford Park, while the older children remained at home with their governess. Consequently, a close and loving bond had grown between them.
Meanwhile, Mrs Gardiner, having spent the required amount of time with all her lively grandchildren, accepted her niece’s invitation to rest awhile upstairs. There Elizabeth took the opportunity to acquaint her aunt with the troubles of Wickham and Lydia. Even Mrs Gardiner, who, like Darcy, was usually unsurprised by the behaviour of this recalcitrant pair, was shocked by Mrs Brewerton’s letter and as censorious as Jane had been. She did confirm, however, that she and Mr Gardiner agreed with Darcy that not to help Lydia would probably leave them to the mercy of money lenders and pawn brokers, who would only drag them further down into the mire and damage their own families, as well.
Elizabeth accepted, without argument, the truth of this contention. “I accept all of that, dear Aunt, but it pains me to have to help them again and again while knowing that they are not only totally ungrateful, but given any opportunity, would not hesitate to abuse Mr Darcy or myself,” she complained, and it was only Mrs Gardiner’s unfailing good humour that saved her from sinking into a mood of depression.
The situation would not improve when Hobbs, returning later that week, reported that an unpaid gambling debt had been the cause of the fracas that left Wickham incapacitated.
When Jane joined them, Elizabeth asked for tea to be served.
Mrs Gardiner, who was their closest confidante, was informed that Emma was unlikely to be present at the weekend’s celebrations. When she expressed her disappointment, Jane quite deliberately avoided the more harrowing details of her daughter’s situation, referring only to the inability of her busy husband to accompany them.
Quite unsuspicious, Mrs Gardiner was disinclined to be critical of Mr Wilson. “It is quite understandable, dear Jane, that an ambitious young Parliamentarian may not consider an eleven-year-old’s birthday party an essential part of his social life,” she said. “However, it is such a pity the problem was not known to us earlier; Mr Gardiner was in London until Thursday morning, and he could easily have accommodated Emma and the two girls in his carriage, since he was travelling alone. It would have been quite simple for them to have stayed overnight with us and travelled to Pemberley today.”
She genuinely regretted the missed opportunity, but Elizabeth, meeting Jane’s eyes, realised that it would have been of no use. David Wilson would not have permitted Emma and the children to make the journey to Pemberley without him.
Even as Mrs Gardiner spoke, a hard, cold knot of fear had begun to establish itself in Elizabeth’s mind. It was the kind of fear that she had felt once before—when the news of Lydia’s elopement had reached her at Lambton, a combination of dreadful news and the realisation of one’s total helplessness to influence the consequences.
If only Darcy could be told! She was sure he would know what to do, but Jane would not hear of it. Emma, she said, would never forgive her if her father discovered the truth. Poor, dear Emma and poor Jane! How deep must their suffering be? The sheer hopelessness of the situation horrified Elizabeth, who could see no way out for her niece, short of the destruction of her marriage.
The task of keeping the bad news from their aunt was made somewhat easier by the fact that Mrs Gardiner had some good news to impart. Her youngest son, Robert—who had gone out to the eastern colonies some years ago to work for one of the British mercantile firms—was returning to England. He was considering an offer of a position at the firm’s head office in Liverpool.
Mrs Gardiner had brought with her his recent letters, which she read to her nieces with much satisfaction. Robert wrote of his success at two professional examinations as well as his plans to return to England in the Spring. Though it was more than six months away, Mrs Gardiner could not hide her excitement. Both Jane and Elizabeth were delighted for her, knowing she had felt her son’s absence keenly.
Hardly had they finished congratulating their aunt on her excellent news, than Elizabeth’s maid, Susan, ran upstairs to warn of another arrival. Being new to Pemberley, Susan had never seen one of the splendid vehicles from Rosings before.
“Oh ma’am, there is a great big fancy carriage, with four beautiful horses, coming up the drive,” she cried, and in one voice the ladies responded, “That has to be the carriage from Rosings bringing Charlotte and Catherine,” as they went across to the windows to look out at the approaching grand equipage.
Elizabeth and Jane went down to welcome them. They remarked not only on how well they both looked, but how much like Charlotte her daughter Catherine had grown. She had also acquired an enviable level of self-possession during her years at Rosings. Congratulations were in order, and these were received by Catherine with a remarkable degree of dignified restraint.
Jane and Lizzie, who could still recall with some amusement how they had reacted with almost unbearable delight on similar occasions in their own lives, were quite amazed at Catherine’s lack of excitement. Remarking upon this to Cassandra, Elizabeth wondered aloud, “Could it perhaps have something to do with the fact that Mr Harrison is a clergyman?”
When Cassy answered, “It has probably more to do with the fact that Mr Harrison is a rather unexciting clergyman, Mama,” her mother could scarcely restrain her laughter, especially when Cassy pointed out that their cousin Emily was certainly not similarly encumbered.
“No indeed,” Elizabeth said. “James Courtney is popular with his parishioners and has never been considered boring.” She then begged Cassandra to “make Catherine feel at home.”
Cassy smiled. “Really, Mama, coming from Rosings to Pemberley should hardly present a problem to Catherine. We are far less preoccupied with the niceties of social etiquette than is Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” she declared, as she went away to attend to her children.
The gentlemen, having returned from Kympton, had changed and were ready to go downstairs when a great commotion in the hall heralded the arrival of Colonel Fitzwilliam, Caroline, and their children. Isabella, the eldest, was a gentle, demure young lady with a fair share of beauty, but so unassuming that she was often overlooked. Her brother, David, was away at boarding school, but Amy and James, the youngest Fitzwilliams, were energetic children accustomed to treating Pemberley as a second home. They raced up and down the wide staircases and long corridors, quite oblivious to the treasures that surrounded them.
When Elizabeth and Darcy came down to welcome them, Caroline apologised for her children, but she was assured that they did no harm. Amy and
James stopped in the middle of their play to affectionately embrace and greet their aunt and uncle. They were lively but delightful children, and neither Darcy nor Elizabeth minded their presence, although the maids, carrying tea trays laden with fine china, had been seen to flinch as they flew past on the stairs.
Colonel Fitzwilliam greeted Darcy, eager to discuss the political news, which his father-in-law, Mr Gardiner, had brought on his return from London.
Still gloating over the demise of the Conservatives, who had managed only one elected term under Peel, Fitzwilliam was triumphant that the popular Palmerston was back in power and in charge of the Foreign Office. He had endeared himself to the liberal middle classes with defiant statements of support for the Italian cause and condemnation of despotism in Europe. Fitzwilliam hoped also for great things from him at home. “There is no doubt that Palmerston will be Prime Minister one day, Darcy. We can at least expect some progressive legislation soon.”
Darcy was less confident. He reminded Fitzwilliam that Palmerston was once a Tory and “more of a Whig aristocrat than your modern democrat,” he said, but Fitzwilliam was not to be denied.
The arrival of Anthony Tate and his wife Rebecca, both of whom took an active interest in politics, released Darcy to attend to his guests and provided Fitzwilliam with an even larger audience for his views. Having once been in Parliament, he could claim to have an opinion on all matters of interest. Indeed, so sincere and profound was his conviction on causes such as the ten-hour day or compulsory education for children, one could be forgiven for asking why he had ever retired from Parliament. But that was another story.
On this occasion, with Richard Gardiner and Jonathan Bingley as well as the Tates—owners of The Review and The Tribune—agreeing with him, Fitzwilliam was in full flight when the band in the marquee struck up a lively tune and demanded the attention of all present.
Julian, whose birthday had occasioned the celebration, was suddenly shy and had to be persuaded by Cassandra, his sister, to step forward and accept the congratulations of his guests.
The Women of Pemberley Page 2