Mr. Darcy's Daughter

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Elizabeth smiled and went to sit beside him on the sofa."I did not think you would, my dear; it is a sort of poetic justice, is it not?" she asked, taking his hand in hers.

  "It certainly is and I am glad of it," he said and then, turning to her, asked,"Were you really testing me, Lizzie?" Realising from her expression that she was only playing a game, his reproof came swiftly,"I thought you knew me better than to ask such a question."

  She laughed and reassured him that indeed she did. Elizabeth remembered how very far her husband had come over the years of their marriage from the haughty, reserved man she had met at the dance in the assembly hall at Meryton. That Mr Darcy, who had found it intolerable to dance with a lady below his station in life, unless she were exceptionally beautiful, would scarcely have acknowledged the existence of a stable boy, much less approve of a man whose grandfather had been one. She could not tell if her husband shared her memories; she thought not, for they had long put all those painful days behind them.

  But Elizabeth was proud of the man he had become and, by asking the question as she had done, she had sought only to reiterate all those qualities she loved and admired in him. So sound was their understanding of one another, so close their intimacy, that it did not take long for her to convince him that she had never seriously believed him capable of such prejudice, nor for her to be forgiven for having wounded his feelings with her provocative question.

  Meanwhile, Cassy, having told Richard the story of Mr Carr and the portrait of his grandfather, wondered how her husband would respond to the news. In fact, he responded hardly at all, merely acknowledging that Mr Carr must have been very gratified and, indeed, so must she and the girls, for now the mystery of his resemblance to the portrait had been resolved.

  Cassy put his lack of interest down to weariness; it had been a tiring day. She could not, however, help contemplating the possibility that her husband's response might be different, were Mr Carr to become, at some future date, a suitor for their daughter's hand.

  But, she told herself sensibly, he was not and it did not signify.

  * * *

  As the Summer waned into Autumn, the days were crowded with parties, village fairs, and well dressings, with walks and picnics in the dales.

  There was some talk of business failures and recession, but there was prosperity, too. The countryside seemed salubrious and bountiful, especially to Mr Carr, who had stayed on in Derbyshire, moving to live at Rushmore Farm following the departure for New South Wales of Will Camden and his family.

  Michael Carr was eager to become acquainted with his staff, his tenants, and the people of the neighbourhood in which he proposed to make his new home. To this end, he assiduously attended the county shows and meetings of the council and, though a Roman Catholic, even made an appearance at the Kympton Church Harvest Thanksgiving Service. The Rector, Reverend Courtney, welcomed him and the congregation showed their pleasure when many stopped to greet him afterwards.

  At the local inn, he soon made a friend of the landlord and learned that a couple of men from Cromford were still in the area, looking at properties, and had been especially disappointed at losing the Rushmore stud to him."You'd be wise to watch out for them, sir," the innkeeper had warned."They're a rough lot and seem like sore losers, too."

  Mr Carr was so pleased with life at the moment, it was unlikely that such a mild caution would worry him. He made no mention of it to anyone. He had seen the two men around the district, but took little notice of their presence.

  In the Autumn, too, Darcy Gardiner went up to London to hear Mr Colin Elliott, who was engaged to their cousin Anne-Marie Bingley, make his final speech as a member of the Tory Party. It was to be a momentous occasion and Darcy was determined to be there. With him went young Lizzie, who, after spending a week in London with her brother, was to proceed to Cambridge to make good the promise made by her mother to her aunt and uncle.

  Brother and sister had both promised faithfully to write to their mother, but Cassy knew better than to count on her son for good letters. When he did write, they were always short, scrappy little pieces, in which he merely gave her bits of London news, which she already knew.

  This time, however, he reported faithfully on Mr Elliott's speech and the party given by Mr and Mrs James Wilson to celebrate the occasion of James Wilson's twentieth year in the Parliament. Although it was not a very satisfactory account, being brief and somewhat disjointed, it was better than nothing, Cassy thought with a sigh, as she opened up the second letter that had arrived that day.

  This was from Lizzie and was, as usual, well written and full of news, all that a good letter should be. Cassy sat down to enjoy it.

  Lizzie wrote:

  Dearest Mama and Papa,

  It is hard to believe that it is almost three weeks since I left you to come to London and a fortnight since my last letter. I had hoped to write again before leaving London, but Darcy was always wanting to go somewhere and, when I was at home, someone would call to see him and want to leave a message for him. He seems to be very popular, and there was very little time to spare for myself and even less time to write.

  While we were in London, we were both asked to a party at our Uncle Wilson's place in Grosvenor Street to celebrate his twentieth year in the Commons. My brother had already been to the Parliament that afternoon.

  It was a grand affair with an entire chamber ensemble playing all evening and dozens of very distinguished and important people present.

  Anne-Marie was there with her husband-to-be Mr Elliott, who is very handsome indeed, though quiet and serious looking. Anna Bingley assured us he was not at all dull, though, and Darcy said his speech to the Commons was excellent. Everyone there seemed to agree. When he came into the room with Anne-Marie on his arm, there was applause. I thought it was to congratulate the engaged couple, who looked very handsome together, but Darcy said,"Don't be so silly, Lizzie, it's because Mr Elliott has just resigned from the Tory Party." It seems he is to support Mr Gladstone in the Parliament. Is that good? My Uncle Wilson seemed to think it was. He appeared very elated about it and congratulated Mr Elliott on his decision. Anne-Marie looked very beautiful, as always.

  We left for Cambridge at the end of the week. What a change it is from London! Life here is very quiet and sober, quieter still in the home of my Uncle Julian Darcy. He, when he is at home, spends almost all his time in his study, except when he joins us at meals or goes upstairs to bed at night.

  Cassandra sighed,"Poor Julian, still working too hard…" and read on.

  Aunt Josie is quiet, too, but in a different way. She writes and reads and writes some more and reads again. Some afternoons she has visitors, like the Misses Wallace-Groom. Dora and Hetty visit often (they must be Dorothy and Henrietta, I suppose, but no one calls them that) and they read poetry and talk about it together for hours. A gentleman named Barrett comes, too, and reads with them. Occasionally, they read for him and he listens and comments upon their poems, and they are all very pleased with themselves.

  Poor little Anthony finds all this very boring and I am usually sent to walk with him in the park or play in the nursery, which I would much rather do, for I find their poetry very dull indeed.

  When we take tea together, I help Susan bring in the tea and cakes, and the Misses Wallace-Groom tell me all about their adventures during the last London Season. Aunt Josie is not very interested, but she does like them because they like her poetry. I heard her tell Mr Barrett one day, while we were waiting for them to arrive, that they are both 'very discerning young women.' I had to look it up and found it means 'discriminating or refined in taste' and I have to say I could see no sign of it in either of them.

  Their dress is very modish, but they care nothing for literature or music and neither can play a single instrument or sing.

  What is more, I fear they are not altogether sincere, because when Aunt Josie is busy reading her poetry, I have noticed Miss Hetty Wallace-Groom trying to flirt with Mr Barrett. (Hetty is p
retty and plump and laughs a lot, while Dora is thin and serious.)

  Despite all this, I am sure, Mama, that you will be pleased to hear that Aunt Josie is more active and cheerful and, though she does not speak very much of matters other than her poetry and little Anthony, she does at least come downstairs every day and takes her evening meal with the rest of us.

  According to her maid, Susan, she is much improved since last Spring.

  Susan is, I think, her only real friend and confidante. She is so very loyal, Mama, I think she would do anything for Aunt Josie.

  The letter concluded affectionately, as always, with love to all her family and was followed by a postscript…

  Tomorrow, we are to go out to a reading of a play by a friend of Mr Barrett, Andrew Jones. While I am not really looking forward to it, Aunt Josie is very excited indeed. Mr Jones is the son of a publisher and very important, she says. I don't know him at all.

  Susan is here to take this to the post, so I must close, with more love…etc.

  Cassandra read the letter through twice before putting it away.

  It was just like all Lizzie's letters, vivid, with plenty of detail and opinions. Cassy could visualise clearly the grand party at the Wilsons' town house in Grosvenor Street and the contrast with the quiet little house in Cambridge where her brother lived. She could picture the scene, with Josie reading poetry in the parlour, and wondered what the Misses Wallace-Groom were really like. Clearly Lizzie did not like them.

  Josie was an intelligent young woman; Cassy could not understand her friendship with such girls as Lizzie had described. They seemed shallow, with small, uncultivated minds. Why, she wondered, would they court Josie's friendship? As for Mr Barrett, she recalled the maid Susan's tale of his promise to publish Josie's book. Could that be the reason behind her cheerfulness? Cassy wondered. She hoped in her heart, for her brother's sake, that this was the case.

  A week later, a note from Anna Bingley, her cousin Jonathan's wife, brought more hope. An invitation had arrived for Anne-Marie's wedding in December to Mr Colin Elliott. In a note enclosed with it, Anna had written to say that Julian and Josie had been invited, too, and had accepted.

  Anna wrote:

  They are to arrive the day before the wedding day and stay with us at Netherfield Park for a few days. We are all looking forward to seeing them again.

  Cassy was so pleased, she could not wait for her husband to return, so keen was she to take the good news to her parents. If Julian and Josie had accepted the invitation to the wedding, it must mean that Josie had recovered her health and her spirits. Taken together with Lizzie's letter, this was an excellent sign and Cassy knew her mother would be especially happy to hear it. She sent for the small carriage and drove over to Pemberley.

  Elizabeth was overjoyed. Mother and daughter celebrated their good news together, speculating about the possibility that Josie was feeling much better because her work was at least being appreciated by her friends. They knew very little about the Misses Wallace-Groom, but of Mr Barrett they had heard more.

  "And, who knows, my dear, she may even have an offer from a publisher.

  Did you not say this Mr Barrett was in the book trade?"

  "Indeed, Mama, we had that from Josie herself and now Lizzie says his friend Mr Jones is a publisher. I do hope you are right. Julian will be delighted," said Cassy, unwilling to spoil the moment with any niggling doubts about the credibility of their scheme. It was sufficient for her that Julian and Josie were to be at Anne-Marie's wedding.

  They had both been looking out for Mr Darcy, who had walked down to the stables to take a look at a colt he had purchased for his grandson.

  "Your father is very enthusiastic about this colt; he thinks he will do well for young James in a year or two," said Elizabeth.

  Cassy went over to the window where her mother sat and looking out, said,"There he is, Mama, over by the lake; he's coming this way."

  She was eager to give her father the good news, too.

  "There's a man with him. Who is it, Cassy? I have not got my glasses with me, so I cannot make him out," said her mother.

  "Why, I believe it is Mr Carr and he seems to have arrived in Richard's curricle. I wonder what brings him here…" she mused, then recalling suddenly that her husband Richard had taken the curricle that morning, Cassy exclaimed,"Oh, my God!" left her mother, and raced down the stairs, crossed the hall in a few seconds, and ran down the wide steps of Pemberley House to meet Mr Carr and her father as they approached.

  She could think only of her husband and what might have happened to him. One look at their faces told her that something serious had occurred. As Mr Darcy came towards her, she cried out,"Papa, what is it? What has happened? Is it Richard? Has there been an accident? Tell me, please…"

  Her father put his arms around her and she could sense the sorrow in his voice, as he said, quietly,"It is Mr Gardiner, my dear. Richard has been called to Lambton urgently; he has sent Mr Carr for you. You must go at once; your mother and I will follow very soon."

  Cassy did not know whether it was sorrow or relief, but she could not control the sobs that shook her as she stood holding fast to her father. Elizabeth, who had followed her out and heard his words, was standing at the entrance with tears running down her cheeks.

  Her dear Uncle Gardiner was gone.

  Mr Darcy went to comfort her, while Cassy collected her basket and shawl and returned to find Mr Carr waiting for her beside the curricle. He helped her into her seat, placed a rug around her knees, and took the vehicle around the drive and out onto the road to travel the few miles to the Gardiners' place at Lambton.

  Mr Carr did not speak and Cassy was glad of his silence. There was nothing she could say, no way she could explain. The bad news that the family had dreaded, yet known was inevitable, had come at last.

  When they reached Oakleigh, the Gardiners' property, Mr Carr helped Cassy alight. She thanked him and went directly indoors to the room where she knew the family would be gathered. She found them—Mrs Gardiner, Caroline, and Emily—in tears, trying to comfort one another. She embraced them all, sharing their loss.

  Richard, who had been summoned by his son Edward, had only just reached his father's bedside as he passed peacefully into unconsciousness. Seeing Cassy arrive, he came to her and gathered her into a tight embrace as she wept. He knew how dearly she had been loved by his father and with what devotion that affection had been returned. Cassy had been as dear to Mr Gardiner as his own two daughters.

  He recalled his father's words on the day of their wedding:"You are a very fortunate young man, Richard," he had said."I know of no other young woman in the world to whom you could have been wed with greater certainty of happiness."

  The years had proved him right.

  His younger brother Robert and his wife Rose were away in London with their children. Mrs Gardiner, her face still taut with the strain of many anxious days and nights, came to ask if Richard could arrange to send them an urgent message by electric telegraph.

  "There are others, too, who must be informed—Emma and James and Jonathan, of course," she said and he assured her it would all be done, urging her to rest, lest her own health should be affected.

  Recalling that Mr Carr, not wishing to intrude upon the family's grief, was waiting in the parlour, Cassy said,"Richard, could we not ask for Mr Carr's help?" and as they went out to find him, Mrs Gardiner called to them,"You must inform Julian, Richard; your father was very fond of Julian."

  By the time Mr and Mrs Darcy arrived, Richard and Mr Carr were busy compiling lists and composing suitable messages to be despatched to the family and many friends of Mr Gardiner. Meanwhile, Cassy sought to comfort her sister-in-law Caroline, who was so grief-stricken, she had to be taken upstairs to bed.

  Hearing the carriage from Pemberley arrive, Cassy came downstairs to receive her parents. Mr Darcy looked so profoundly sad and Elizabeth could not restrain her grief, as they embraced their daughter again before seeking out Mrs G
ardiner. The Gardiners held a very special place in their hearts. Having been instrumental in bringing the couple together all those years ago, they had remained loving and intimate friends.

  As well, Mr Gardiner, by inviting Mr Darcy to become a partner in his lucrative trading company, had opened up an entirely new world of business and commerce for the young gentleman from Derbyshire, whose interests and experience had hitherto been constrained by his exclusive and rather restricted circle of acquaintances.

  Darcy had been very grateful. For him and Elizabeth, this was going to be a very harrowing funeral. It was probably the realisation of this fact that prompted Cassy to offer to help with the arrangements at Pemberley.

  Mr Gardiner had asked that he be laid to rest in the churchyard there and Cassy knew preparations would have to be made for the relatives and friends who would attend, as well as those who would be accommodated at Pemberley. She knew, too, that in the absence of her brother Julian, her parents would need and welcome her help.

  "Oh, if only Lizzie were here," she said with a sigh, as they returned that night to Matlock."Emily and Caroline are both so desolated, I have not the heart to ask for their help."

  Richard assured her that he would always be there if she needed him and urged her to seek the help of the Granthams, husband and wife, who were manager and housekeeper at Pemberley and had been with the Darcys for many years.

  "They will know exactly what is required and carry out all the work with their usual efficiency, I am sure," he said and Cassy said she was confident they would.

  "Besides," said her husband,"it will be best, my love, if you were not to be seen taking over what should by rights be Julian's role." Cassy agreed; she had no desire to do so, but with her brother away in Cambridge, it was the least she could do for her parents.

  "I am sure Julian will understand," she said, to which Richard replied,"I am quite certain he will, but will everyone else?"