“No doubt Amelia-Jane is exceedingly pleased,” said Richard. “Well, I can only wish them well. I am sure the fact that Lady Catherine will be in Bath rather than in residence at Rosings will make Jonathan’s position much more congenial, especially if they are to live on the property.”
Cassy agreed. “They will have the dower house; Aunt Jane told Mama. Amelia-Jane wants her to advise on what needs to be done to get the place ready for them. They will, however, keep Jonathan’s town house, where they will mostly live when they are in London.”
And there the conversation ended, since it was time to leave, and Cassy went to kiss her children goodnight.
When they reached the Fitzwilliams’ place, the sight of a splendid equipage taking up a great deal of room in the street reminded them that Jonathan and Amelia-Jane had acquired a remarkable patron indeed. Lady Catherine’s customary generosity towards those she approved of and who, in their turn, were adequately deferential towards her, was once again apparent. Mr and Mrs Jonathan Bingley and their older children had arrived in one of her liveried carriages, which now stood to one side, leaving barely enough room for the lesser vehicles of other guests to pass.
If the range and level of conversation was an indication of the success of a party, then this party was a certain success. Every conceivable topic, from the design of the new houses of Parliament to the cunning strategy of Louis Napoleon, who, by a coup d’état, had made himself emperor of France, was discussed with vigour. The presence of several of Fitzwilliam’s Reformist friends from his days at Westminster and younger colleagues of Jonathan Bingley and James Wilson meant there was inevitably a great deal of politics in the air.
Fitzwilliam, a great admirer of Palmerston, railed against the inaction of the present Prime Minister, Lord Aberdeen, and urged his friends who were still in Parliament to move to install Palmerston in his place. “He alone will restore Britain’s influence in Europe,” he declared, resolutely condemning the Peelites, for whom he had no time at all.
Although 1851 had been a year of peace in Britain, culminating in the success of the Great Exhibition, the years that followed were a good deal less so, especially in Europe, where there were several points of tension, any or all of which were likely to explode into conflict at any time.
Efforts to bring about agreements through negotiation were not proving successful, and ineffective diplomacy had become the butt of jokes. “Look at the Treaty of London,” scoffed one of the guests. “Half of Europe will not accept it, and the rest could not care less.”
Amid much laughter, Fitzwilliam, supported by Jonathan, was in full flight on the subject of ineffectual governments when Richard and Cassandra arrived.
James and Emma Wilson, who had only recently returned from France, were both concerned that there was, in Europe, much talk of war between France and Russia. “There is much more belligerent rhetoric now than I have heard in many a year,” said James, and when Richard asked if there was a reason for this heightened temperature, he replied, “I am sorry to have to say this, but the ineptitude of our leaders is gradually pushing us into a situation where we will be at war before we even know why we are there.”
The whiff of war in the air set the conversation alight, and it was only doused when the musicians struck up a familiar quadrille and the newly engaged couple led the company into the first dance.
Cassandra and Richard had not been surprised by the news of their engagement, having noticed the increasing warmth of the friendship that had grown up between them since Isabella had begun to assist at the hospital in Littleford. Emily, too, having been her niece’s confidante for the last few months, had seen their relationship deepen during the fearful week when little Laura Ann’s life had hung in the balance.
Unlike many of her cousins and friends, Isabella had not fallen in love in the first flush of youth. Quiet and unassuming to a fault, her gentle beauty was often overlooked among her more striking companions. Clearly, one man, at least, had known better. His compassion and gentlemanly charm had captured her heart, and her choice was universally applauded. Like Richard Gardiner, Henry Forrester was gaining a reputation for both professional skill and dedication.
Elizabeth found herself seated next to her niece Emma Wilson at dinner. The gloomy prognostications about war in Europe had been overwhelmed by the happy prospect of a wedding in the family. Indeed, Elizabeth told how upon hearing the good news, she and Mr Darcy had offered to host the wedding at Pemberley. “Isabella will be married at the church, of course,” said Elizabeth, explaining that it would therefore be convenient, as well as appropriate, that the wedding breakfast be at Pemberley House.
Emma was delighted for Isabella. “I have always thought that she had intended to remain unwed, else I could not understand how such a lovely, gentle young woman would not have been married earlier,” she remarked, adding that too many young men today were not looking beyond the powder and paint.
“It is gratifying to discover that goodness can yet be appreciated, though if I had been a man, I cannot believe I would not have noticed her sweetness of disposition and fine features even before I learnt to appreciate her goodness,” said Elizabeth.
Emma agreed. Isabella had been a favourite cousin; they shared an evenness of temper that had made for an easy friendship as girls, but since Emma’s first, unhappy marriage, and her more or less permanent residence in Kent, the cousins had seen much less of each other. Emma’s own second marriage and Isabella’s involvement with the management of the Littleford hospital had left both young women little time for anything above the usual affectionate greetings at birthdays.
She was, therefore, surprised to be singled out by her cousin, who brought Henry Forrester over to be introduced to “my beautiful cousin, Emma, and her husband, the distinguished Mr James Wilson, MP.”
Not having met Mr Forrester before, James Wilson was happy to find him an intelligent young man with a remarkable dedication to his work. Quite clearly, he was also devoted to young Isabella.
While Caroline and Fitzwilliam were busy accepting the congratulations of their friends at the success of the evening and their daughter’s engagement, a storm had been brewing amongst the hills and crags to the north. Concerned for the comfort of their guests, the Fitzwilliams urged them to move indoors.
Richard and Cassy, familiar with the house, decided to watch the storm’s progress from the vantage point of the music room, which ran the width of the house and afforded from its windows a splendid prospect across the river to the woods and the peaks beyond, rising to the summit of High Tor.
Upstairs, they found the younger children gathered in the schoolroom, clearly frightened by the sound and fury of the weather. Richard urged them to come into the music room and enjoy the show, trying to counter their fears by describing the gathering storm as “Nature’s fireworks.” The braver ones ventured in and were treated to a spectacular display.
Happily, the worst of the storm seemed to miss that part of the dales in which their house stood, and though the great bolts of lightning in the distance seemed fearsome when accompanied by rolling thunder, it was a relief to know that they were dancing mostly over the rugged hills and moorlands to the north.
The music room was Caroline’s favourite room. Since the day she had first seen the house, well before they were engaged, she had admired the room and received from Fitzwilliam a promise, albeit unsolicited, that it would be a music room as she had suggested. True to his word, after they were engaged, he had it fitted up to suit her taste. Now, it was her personal retreat. She found Cassy and Richard and a few of the children enjoying the superb view the room afforded.
“Cassy, there you are. Jonathan and Amelia-Jane are ready to leave. They are to stay with the Tates tonight and wish to leave before the storm reaches the dales,” she said as she accompanied them downstairs. “I thought I would send a little note about Isabella’s engagement for next week’s R
eview.”
When they reached the hall, Amelia and Jonathan were ready to depart, their fine carriage waiting patiently for them to conclude their farewells.
Soon after they had left, the party began to break up. Most of Jonathan’s friends had left, and a few stragglers were making their way out. Richard and Cassy followed not long afterwards.
As the carriage turned onto the main road leading to Matlock, light rain was falling and in the distance could be heard the sound of horses. Richard noticed that ahead, the carriage from Pemberley had been pulled over and Darcy’s driver had decided to alight and investigate. Richard did likewise.
Within minutes, two men on horseback loomed up in the rain and fog ahead, visible in the light of the carriage lamps. They were from Pemberley; windblown and dishevelled, they looked as if they had ridden hard. Talking to Darcy’s driver they explained that the storm that had missed the dales had hit the rest of the area very hard: several trees had been blown down and lay across the road. They had ridden over to warn their master not to risk making the journey to Pemberley that night. There was no alternative but to turn back.
The Fitzwilliams welcomed their returning guests and made arrangements to accommodate them for the night.
Rain fell throughout the night, making the prospect of the road being cleared unlikely.
Waking just before daybreak, Elizabeth found Darcy already dressed and looking out of the bedroom window. Joining him, she noted that the storm had cleared and the sky was reddening with the first rays of the sun.
“Red in the morning…” she whispered.
“Yes, there could be more bad weather about, and it looks like we might be here all day if the road has not been cleared of fallen trees,” said her husband. “I am glad the rain has cleared. I shall borrow a pair of boots and get Fitzwilliam to show me around the home farm after breakfast. He has made a number of improvements in the last few years.”
As they watched, the sun rose, chasing the shadows from the meadows and woods below. The workmen were taking down the marquee, and in the lower meadow they could see Fitzwilliam, who had clearly risen before dawn.
Elizabeth smiled. “He has become quite the gentleman farmer since leaving Parliament,” she said.
“He certainly has, and I do believe Caroline and he have done very well here. You cannot help but feel the sense of satisfaction they enjoy in their life,” said Darcy and even as he spoke, the three youngest Fitzwilliams ran out into the yard; Rachel, James, and Amy were all laughing as they raced out to the stables for their morning ride. Darcy and Elizabeth smiled as they watched the young, healthy children.
“The simple life they set out to lead, quite deliberately, seems to have nourished them and nurtured their children in the best possible way. They are so cheerful and happy,” he observed.
“Except Isabella, who has never been the same since Edward’s death,” said Elizabeth quietly, and Darcy agreed.
“Yes, Fitzwilliam has been very concerned about her.”
Elizabeth knew that Caroline had been anxious too. “She has been quite disinterested in any proposal of marriage. I believe there have been one or two, but she would have none of them. I am truly delighted to see her so happy,” she said. “But Isabella is a restless soul and, unlike Cassy or Emma, she will not settle into quiet domesticity. I know she feels very strongly about the poor and the sick. Once she is married to a man of some character and dedication, she is likely to want to go out and do something to change the world.”
Darcy pointed out that, in doing so, Isabella would only be following the excellent example of her parents, both of whom had spent many years in active public service and still continued their interest in the affairs of their community. “I have never ceased to be amazed at Caroline’s ability to throw herself with great enthusiasm into campaigns for political and social causes. It was understandable when Fitzwilliam was in Parliament, but she has not reduced her efforts since he retired,” he said.
“No, indeed, she has not,” said Elizabeth, “and I understand they’ve had a great success recently. I am told Rebecca and Caroline have received a promise of assistance from the council for the extension of the Kympton parish school.”
Darcy smiled. “Yes, indeed, that is a great achievement,” he agreed, adding, “and I have been petitioned for permission to hold a fête for the benefit of the Irish families. Emily declares that the children need clothes and shoes for the Winter.”
“You will have no objection, will you, dearest?” Elizabeth asked, a little anxiously.
Darcy shook his head and said, “Of course not, I am delighted we can help. I have said they can use the lower meadow and ask my staff for any assistance they may need. The fate of the Irish families, the way the government ignores them, is a stain upon this nation, and I shall be very happy if Pemberley can make a contribution to their welfare.”
It had always been important to him that Pemberley, which stood at the very heart of this community, should assist its people in dealing with their problems. He saw the sick, the homeless, and the dispossessed as part of his responsibility, not as the inevitable detritus of change and progress. Having grown up in a comfortable and cohesive social environment, he was outraged by the fracturing of that society and strove to build a sense of harmony around Pemberley and its neighbouring estates. While there was still much to be done, they had achieved a great deal through the work of many dedicated men and women, but chiefly as a result of the inspiration and leadership of the Master of Pemberley.
Glancing up at him, Elizabeth caught a hint of regret—the merest shadow—cross his face. She wondered at the reason for it, but before she could say anything, he sighed and said, “Lizzie, my dear, I wish I had been more successful in interesting Julian in the work we do here. He’s clever and popular; he could help us achieve a great deal, especially with the young people.”
She knew, then, the cause of his disappointment. Their son, while he was an amiable and intelligent young man, had as yet shown little interest in his father’s grand obsession. Pemberley was for him a comfortable home; he loved the place but did not appear to share Darcy’s sense of vocation. There was no doubt his father was disappointed.
Elizabeth’s heart went out to him. “Julian is only seventeen. I know he loves Pemberley. Give him time, I am sure he will not disappoint you,” she said.
Gratefully, he held her close and said, “I expect you are right, Lizzie. I forget that he is still a boy.”
Elizabeth steered him towards a happier subject. “I think you can be very proud of what we have achieved. Has Richard told you he intends to nominate himself for election to the hospital board?”
Darcy’s countenance brightened. “Indeed, he has, and I have promised to speak to Sir Thomas and a couple of others about it. I hope he succeeds; he is very keen and will work hard for the hospital and the community. He is very impressed with the work of Joseph Lister, and I have offered to fund his pet research project on bacteria and antisepsis—that should help him get the board’s attention.”
Delighted, Elizabeth embraced him warmly before reminding him that the Fitzwilliams breakfasted earlier than they did at Pemberley and she had better attend to her toilette at once, lest they disrupt the entire household.
Sometime later, when they had finished breakfast and the mist had cleared, Elizabeth and Jane went out into the garden, where they found Cassy, anxious because they had not heard from home. “Richard has ridden down to discover if all is well,” she said. “Papa and Mr Bingley are down in the lower meadow with Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Caroline had followed them out into the sunshine. “Emma and James have only just come downstairs,” she said with a smile, adding mischievously, “They must be accustomed to the luxury of late breakfasts at Standish Park.”
Everyone laughed, but it was an indulgent, affectionate laugh; no one grudged Emma even the smallest scrap of h
appiness.
“Caroline, where is Isabella? Is she enjoying a late morning, too?” asked Jane.
“No, not at all; she was up and about before any of us. She had promised Henry she would be at the hospital today. They are treating a number of the schoolchildren who have developed a nasty rash by playing in the hay. Their mothers are bringing them in and Isabella has prepared a lotion of witch hazel and camomile.”
“But with the road blocked, how will she get there?” asked Elizabeth.
“On horseback, of course. She rides well and was quite determined that she would go. She would not let Henry down,” said Caroline, and, seeing the smiles on the faces of her cousins, she added, “She is a mature young woman, Lizzie. I cannot forbid her.”
“Of course not, Caroline, nor should you. As I said to Darcy this morning, Isabella will always want to be doing something to change the world.”
Caroline laughed, “You are absolutely right, Lizzie. Just the other day she was telling me she envied her brother David because he could do so many exciting things. When I asked her what in particular, she said, quite seriously, ‘Mama, would it not be wonderful to go to Africa, like Dr Livingston?’”
Jane was shocked. “Africa? Surely she cannot be serious?”
Caroline was quite sanguine. “She was, but that was before Henry proposed. I do not think Africa will be as attractive a proposition now, but I do believe Henry once wanted to go to India to work on the missions, so I shall not be too surprised if they decide to do something quite extraordinary.”
Remembering her conversation with Darcy that morning, Elizabeth was quite sure that Isabella would surprise them all.
Minutes later, Richard returned and, to Cassy’s great relief, declared that everyone at home was well. “Were they worried when we did not return last night?” she asked.
The Women of Pemberley Page 20