Mr. Darcy's Daughter

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  "They will both be attending the first cricket match of the season next Saturday; it's a big occasion for the community—Darcy will take you along, I'm sure. Will you not, my dear?" asked Cassy.

  "Of course," her son replied with great alacrity."Everyone goes to the cricket; it's an excuse for a picnic, if the weather is kind."

  "Do you play, Mr Carr?" Cassy asked, pointing out that the district teams were always looking for new talent.

  "Sadly no, Mrs Gardiner. It is one aspect of my English schooling which I never quite mastered. The best I could do at school was mind the scoreboard," he confessed ruefully.

  "That's good; you can help with keeping scores then," said Lizzie, and by now Mr Carr was beginning to look a little uneasy.

  Next Saturday was almost a week away—he had not intended, he said, to impose on them for a further week. Perhaps he could move to the inn; he was sure he could get rooms there, he suggested.

  But he was immediately discouraged from doing any such thing.

  First Darcy, then Richard, and lastly Cassy assured him that there was no need at all; he was most welcome to stay.

  "Besides," said Richard,"you will probably want to revisit Rushmore Farm with your attorney and make a journey to the Council at Matlock before the purchase is finally settled."

  All these logical arguments, as well as the attraction of a cricket match and picnic in such congenial company, very quickly convinced Mr Carr that he should stay on.

  * * *

  Inevitably, the matter of the portrait at Pemberley came up for discussion between Cassy and her daughters, and she was determined that she would speak with her mother before next Saturday.

  She meant to discover, if possible, the identity of the young man in the green coat and how his portrait came to be in the Pemberley collection. While she could not recall the portrait in great detail, both Laura and Lizzie had supported her husband's contention that its subject bore a strong resemblance to their guest. Cassy was keen, if this were true, to uncover the connection between them.

  To this end, she arranged for her husband to take her to Pemberley on the following day, being Sunday, while their son Darcy and Mr Carr made plans with Thomas for a day's fishing further up the river. Lizzie and Laura, always happy to see their grandparents, went with their parents to Pemberley.

  Mr and Mrs Darcy were delighted, on returning from church, to find the Gardiners' carriage at the entrance and their visitors waiting for them in the saloon. Mrs Grantham, the housekeeper, had already produced tea, cakes, and fruit, which the girls were addressing with some enthusiasm.

  Mr Darcy, who on first seeing the vehicle had feared that there was bad news from Lambton, was overjoyed when Richard informed him that his father was quite comfortable and indeed there was good news from Rushmore Farm.

  "I believe Will Camden has finally got a genuine buyer," he said and Mr Darcy, ever anxious that the wrong people should not get their hands on the Camdens' farm, asked quickly,"It is not one of those dreadful buccaneers from Birmingham, is it?"

  "Not at all, sir," said Richard, preparing to tell all as they walked out onto the terrace, leaving the ladies together to finish their tea.

  Hardly waiting for the tea things to be removed, Cassy urged her mother to accompany her upstairs to the long gallery. Elizabeth was intrigued, and as her daughter told her of the arrival of young Darcy's friend Mr Michael Carr and his interest in Rushmore Farm, she agreed that such an intelligent and clearly eligible person should certainly be encouraged to remain as long as possible in the neighbourhood.

  "It is an excellent thing for the girls to meet eligible young men, even if nothing comes of it. It is important for their self-esteem that they know how to deal with them. Your father has always said that Anne-Marie Bingley would never have accepted that dreadful bore, Mr Bradshaw, in the first place, had she been introduced to a few more interesting young men, instead of being wholly absorbed in her work with the wounded soldiers at the hospital. Now your little Lizzie is of an age when young men will take some notice of her and she of them, presumably, and the more acceptable young fellows she meets, the more easily will she make the right choice, when the time comes," said Elizabeth.

  Cassy agreed absolutely with her mother."That is exactly my contention, Mama. Richard thinks I am matchmaking, but this is not true."

  Elizabeth was sympathetic and understanding."Of course it isn't. I know that, but I'm afraid, my dear, men will think that. I remember, very clearly, each time we accepted an invitation to a ball, Papa assumed that at least one of us would come back engaged. We were merely appraising the prospects, so to speak; at least I was. Your dear Aunt Jane and Mr Bingley fell headlong in love at their very first meeting and neither would look at another person, thereafter. I do not believe young Lizzie will be in that sort of danger."

  Cassy assured her mother that this was not the case at all. Lizzie, she said, was as yet totally disinterested in the prospect of matrimony. Indeed she only went to balls and parties to please her friends, who begged her to come, and occasionally to partner her brothers.

  Cassandra was eager to steer the conversation and her mother in the direction of the gallery, determined to discover the identity of the man in the green coat, but sadly, when they got there, her mother was no help at all."Dearest, I have no idea who he is, some sort of stable boy, I would say from his clothes, but as to his name… your Papa might know. See, it was done by the same artist who painted this portrait of his aunt, Mrs Fitzwilliam." She pointed to the much larger picture of a very handsome woman in a large feather-trimmed hat.

  Cassy went in search of her father and, finding him in the saloon with her husband, asked,"Papa, would you come up to the gallery with me? There is a picture which interests me greatly, and Mama says you would know the subject."

  Richard chuckled."This is the mysterious subject that is causing all this interest, sir."

  Mr Darcy looked surprised. Cassy had not shown much interest in the portraits before, but he could never refuse his daughter anything.

  Laura Ann and Lizzie had also joined them and the entire party went upstairs and proceeded to the gallery, where Elizabeth waited in front of the two portraits.

  "Now, which is it? And why has it caught your attention?" asked Mr Darcy.

  "It's the young gentleman in a green coat, Grandpa," said Laura Ann, skipping to his side.

  "Is that who it is?" Mr Darcy seemed astonished, having expected to be asked about one of the more esoteric paintings in his collection.

  When everyone answered in the affirmative and Laura Ann added,"He looks exactly like Darcy's friend, Mr Carr," her grandfather said, in a very matter-of-fact voice,"Does he? Well, my dears, I am not entirely surprised, because that was Robert Carr, my Uncle James Fitzwilliam's stable boy."

  As a cry of comprehension went up from one and all, he went on,"There is quite a story to that picture. It was all before my time, but I had it from Mrs Reynolds, who was told it by my mother, when they returned from my uncle's funeral in Ireland."

  As everyone gathered around to hear the tale, Mr Darcy continued."My aunt, the lady in the elaborate hat, was Moira Fitzwilliam, and she was a fine horsewoman. She used to get young Robert, who was very good with horses, weare told, to ride with her around the estate. It was all quite innocent, but she was very much younger than my uncle, and though the lad was only fifteen, her husband became jealous of him.

  "When she had his portrait painted by the same artist who had been commissioned to do hers, he was absolutely furious and dismissed the boy and his father, who worked on the farm as well. Lord knows why, he was only a boy, but that's jealousy for you. Makes even the sanest men irrational and stupid."

  "And how did these portraits come to be in your collection, Papa?" Cassy asked, now that she had seen and accounted for the resemblance between the portrait and their guest.

  Mr Darcy explained,"When my uncle died, my mother, who was his cousin, went to Ireland to attend the funeral, accompani
ed by my father. When the will was read, they discovered that she had been left the collection of family portraits. Not all of them were particularly good or interesting, so they gave them away to other members of the family, keeping just a few, these two among them. It is possible my mother liked them more than my father did. I had quite forgotten about the stable boy until Cassy enquired today."

  "I'm surprised Mr Fitzwilliam kept the one of the lad, if he was so angry about it," said Elizabeth.

  "I believe it was found in his wife's private apartments; she had died of pneumonia, some years before he did," Mr Darcy explained.

  "She must have been quite fond of the boy," Richard mused, and Mr Darcy pointed out that the Fitzwilliams had no sons.

  "Could Robert Carr have been Mr Michael Carr's father?" young Lizzie asked, and Mr Darcy replied that it was far more likely that Robert Carr may have been the grandfather of their guest, if he was under thirty years of age.

  Cassy believed the gentleman could not be more than thirty and Laura Ann, who appeared very well informed, declared that he was a few years older than their brother Darcy; he had told her so, she claimed.

  "It must mean he is a grandson of Robert Carr; that would certainly account for the remarkable resemblance," said Richard, but then cautioned his wife and daughters against making any mention of this matter to their guest.

  "You must not embarrass him by questioning him about his parentage," he warned.

  "But how will we ever find out?" cried Laura Ann. Her grandmother smiled."Leave it to me, my dears, I am sure we can find a way. But your Papa is quite right. It would be very unseemly to question Mr Carr about his grandfather—after all, we have no idea what may have happened after the family left the Fitzwilliams' estate."

  "Oh yes, we do," said young Laura Ann again."My brother said Mr Carr's family were forced to leave Ireland and go to America, where they worked exceedingly hard and made lots of money."

  "Well then, it looks as if all's well that ends well, but I still do not think you should ask questions about his parents; that would be very rude and insensitive," said Elizabeth, and the girls promised not to bring the matter up, unless Mr Carr spoke of it himself.

  By this time, Mr Darcy, tiring of the conversation, urged them to leave the gallery, which was rather cold, and Elizabeth invited them to stay to lunch. Everyone knew what a feast Sunday lunch was at Pemberley and no one was averse to accepting her invitation.

  During the meal and afterwards, the talk was mainly of Mr Carr and his possible purchase of the Rushmore Farm and Stud. Elizabeth was curious to learn more about the gentleman and questioned Richard and Cassy closely about their son's friend. But Mr Darcy seemed quite sanguine about his move into the neighbourhood.

  "I will admit, Richard, I have been very concerned, ever since we learned of Will Camden's intention to sell up. Over the last few years we have seen several places taken over by men from Manchester and Birmingham, with no real interest in the area and no understanding of the people here. Many of these properties have been subdivided and sold to profiteering blackguards who have done nothing at all for the community. Men and women who have lived and worked these lands for generations are being displaced by developers and rogues."

  He sounded furious and Richard hastened to reassure his father-in-law that Mr Carr had given both Camden and himself an assurance that he had no intention of ever subdividing the land.

  "He assures me that he wants only to enjoy what the county has to offer. He is not investing in a commercial venture," said Richard.

  Lizzie, who had been listening to her grandfather, spoke up softly at this point,"I think Papa is right. Mr Carr says he would like very much to settle here, because he feels at home in these parts. His grandmother was born here, he said."

  "Really?" said Elizabeth, interested again,"Did he say where?"

  "Rowsley, I think," said Lizzie, trying to recall what she had heard him say, as they sat eating toasted muffins in front of the fire.

  Cassy was very alert again."That must be the girl who married Robert Carr, the stable boy. Oh, I wish I knew more of his story."

  "Well, you are all going to have to be very patient and very polite and say nothing—until we can ask Mr Carr to Pemberley and let him see the portrait," said her mother, with a conspiratorial smile that had even Mr Darcy laughing at her.

  "I think you can depend upon your mother, Cassy," he said, as they rose to leave the table."She will not rest until the mystery of the stable boy has been fully resolved."

  * * *

  Preparations for the cricket match and the picnic seemed to take up most of everyone's time during the next few days. It was also the day of the Kympton Parish Church Fair and that kept Cassandra and her sister-in-law, Emily Courtney, who was married to the Rector, very busy indeed.

  The weather, which could occasionally turn nasty at this time of year, seemed to be perfect, and much effort was being put into organising everything so it would all be just right.

  Lizzie and Laura had decided that Mr Carr, since he could not play, would be the scorer. He, therefore, had to be initiated into all the complexities of scoring a game of cricket, of which he remembered very little."Oh, don't worry too much; the umpire will make the right signals and we will tell you what you are to write down on the score sheets," said Lizzie.

  "But you must not get it wrong," warned her sister,"or there will be a dreadful fuss, should one team lose by a couple of runs as a result of a scoring error!"

  "This sounds more terrifying than the stock market! Darcy, your sisters have me petrified; do you really think I can do this?" he asked.

  Young Darcy, who was captain of one of the teams, tried to reassure him.

  "There's nothing to it. Just do as they say; they know all about it." The girls laughed, but Mr Carr was feeling as nervous as ever.

  Dr Gardiner was even less sympathetic."You will be perfectly fine if you just watch the umpire and follow his signals," he said, and poor Mr Carr seemed even more confused.

  This was beginning to sound more like hard work than play, he thought, but Cassandra was very kind and promised to help him if things became too difficult."It is not as bad it sounds," she said."There's usually lots of time between wickets falling unless there's a rout! I shall see you aren't left to cope alone. I shall find someone to help you."

  "That is very good of you, Mrs Gardiner. I feel more confident now," he said, and they laughed as they watched the servants bringing in the baskets that were being unloaded from a cart in the yard. They were all to be packed with food for the match.

  Mr Carr was astounded—it looked as if they were preparing to feed a regiment, he said, and Cassandra laughed and assured him that the food would all be gone very soon.

  "Everyone works up an excellent appetite at the cricket, you'll see," she said, predicting that the young men in the teams would probably eat most of it."They do get very hungry after a game," she warned.

  Mr Carr could well believe it. Meanwhile, Darcy had set out for the cricket ground, where the teams were to meet before the match. It was his first year as captain of the village team and he was very keen they should win. His mother, wishing him luck at the door, watched him go with a lump in her throat. Though she never would admit it, he was her favourite and she prayed he would do well. Cassy was devoted to her children and paid the price. Love like this was so intense, it hurt.

  The day had turned out crisp, mild, and bright, perfect for cricket. After an early but hearty breakfast, the family scurried to be dressed in time for the carriages, which were due to leave in an hour.

  Michael Carr, who stood watching all the bustle, wondered at the effort the English would put into organising a friendly game of cricket. He had never seen anything like it.

  When they reached the spot, a picturesque meadow adjacent to the Kympton churchyard, there was already a small crowd of spectators sitting around in the shade of the ancient trees, which ringed the ground. Some members of the teams, Darcy among them,
were practising their skills on the green. Lizzie and Laura took charge of the scoreboard, which had been mounted on an easel, and proceeded to instruct Mr Carr in the intricate business of keeping cricket scores while attempting to enjoy the game.

  Meanwhile, Cassy and her helpers were busy organising the refreshments. To all intents and purposes, their attentions appeared to be concentrated upon the picnic rather than the match. Some of the spectators had already begun to open up their hampers and baskets. The match had not even started; when Mr Carr pointed this out, Lizzie laughed,"Oh Mr Carr, you really do not know very much about cricket, do you? No match would be a success unless the spectators went home with lots of food and ale inside them. That's part of the tradition in the country." Mr Carr nodded, realising that he had much to learn if he was going to become part of this fascinating community.

  On the stroke of ten, the game began, with the umpires coming out onto the field and the visiting players following, led by their captain. A hearty cheer went up; the home team was going to bat first.

  From then on, Mr Carr had not a moment's rest; as each ball was bowled and either stroked back to the bowler or hit into the field for runs, his young assistants would either cheer or jeer and then urge him to record the score, which he duly did upon a score sheet.

  Tim, a young apprentice assigned by Cassy to help them, would then race off to inscribe the score with white chalk on the scoreboard, to the applause of at least half the spectators.

  The players, young men and old, ran, bowled, flung themselves on the grass to save a run, or leapt to catch a ball in the air to end a batsman's life at the crease, all performing seemingly impossible feats, while for the most part standing around the field in what might be mistaken for relaxed and lackadaisical postures. Some even appeared to be asleep. This was a mere façade, for they would suddenly jerk into life and race after a ball or leap in the air to take a catch. As they did so, the"umpires" would turn around, face the spectators, and make strange, stiff gestures, which Mr Carr would not have comprehended at all, but Lizzie and Laura swiftly interpreted the signs and converted them into numbers of runs, fours, sixes, and so on, which he then wrote down on the score sheet.