"Is Barrett well regarded?" asked Cassy, curious to discover the background of this stranger who had caused such sudden turmoil in their family.
Lizzie gave a wry smile."I hardly know how to answer that, Mama. If you believe Hetty Wallace-Groom, he is a paragon among men, but Mrs Hunt, the nurse, had a very different opinion. She had worked for a family in London with whom he was once intimate. She could tell stories of his ability to charm and deceive and quite a few tales of reckless conduct, leading to a great falling-out between them. Indeed, she told Susan of it, in an attempt to alert her mistress, but all she got for her trouble was instant dismissal for gossiping," she explained.
"Oh dear," said Cassy,"and what of Mr Jones: is he a betterman than his friend?"
"I rather doubt it, Mama, if you mean is he a gentleman? I suppose in the society sense of the word, yes, he is; but he is not to be trusted. In his appearance, he is attractive in a languid style, as one might expect a poet or musician to look, but to my mind, he is far worse than Barrett, for he has an appearance of innocence, which is far from the reality. I would not credit a word he says."
Cassandra was astonished at how self-composed her daughter was, in the midst of this confusion; she, who a year ago had seemed too young to go away to stay with her uncle and aunt in Cambridge, had apparently learned to make shrewd judgments about the people she had met there. Cassy doubted that she would have been so capable or indeed so sanguine herself at that age.
"Poor Julian," she said,"to have his wife embroiled in such dubious company; how it must hurt him," and Lizzie agreed.
"It was sad to see how he accepted, without protest, everything that was happening in his own house. I think he loved her and was afraid to cross her in any way, for fear of losing her," she said.
"And then he lost her anyway," said her mother, and the sadness in her voice was immeasurable.
It was agreed between them that they would speak of it to no one at the moment, especially not before the servants, for then it was bound to become common currency in the village and would soon be conveyed to Pemberley."I know that concealment is not possible for long, but we must try, at least until Julian and my parents have met and found a way to comprehend and deal with it together," said Cassy, determined that the village gossips would not get any satisfaction from her.
At dinner, there were only the four of them, for Edward was dining in Derby. No one mentioned Josie at table and, afterwards, Julian thanked them all, asked to be excused, and went upstairs to bed. On the morrow, after he had rested, Cassandra would take her brother to Pemberley to break the unhappy news to their parents.
Her own account of their meeting, given in a letter to Jonathan and Anna Bingley, who remained her close confidantes, made no secret of her feelings.
She placed most of the blame at the feet of her sister-in-law.
Dearest Jonathan and Anna,
It is almost impossible for me to write of this terrible, terrible thing that has happened, without weeping. Yet I know I must hold back my tears and suppress my outrage, for the pain this has inflicted upon my dear parents is well nigh unbearable and I have no wish to add one single grain to their burden.
Having given some of the salient facts, without revealing all of the strange details of Josie's behaviour, she continued…
Please, dear Anna and Jonathan, spare a thought in your prayers for my Mama, who after the death of our dear William, has spent
She has lived for Papa and her family; can you not understand how she must feel? As for Papa, who has always defended Josie, even when Mama and I have been rather impatient of her lack of interest in Pemberley, he must now feel betrayed.
I cannot describe how distraught they were, Mama especially, when Julian told them she had gone with this Mr Barrett, whoever he may be, to London and showed them the cold little note she had left.
She writes of her desire for freedom to pursue her work; never have I seen my dear father look so shocked. He hardly said a word for fully five minutes, as he stood with her note in his hand, gazing out of the window.
When he did speak, he asked Julian if he had ever read his wife's work or talked to her about it. When Julian confessed that he had often been too busy, Papa simply shook his head and said very quietly,"Perhaps, if you had tried, Julian, it may have helped. Now, I suppose it is too late and we may never know."
I can see that he does not lay the blame at her door alone. Mama does, though; she said it was a wicked thing to abandon your child and husband and run off to another man, only because you want him to publish your books. It was a fool's errand, she said.
Dearest Anna, I may sound harsh, but I have to agree with Mama on this matter. Josie has said, in her note to my brother, that she does not love Mr Barrett, and my Lizzie, who spent most of Spring with them, confirms that she saw no sign of affection either. Now, no matter how much it meant to me, I could not have left my husband and children for such an ambition.
Do you not agree that such an action betrays our own worth as well as those we love? Furthermore, even from a purely practical point of view, what guarantee of success or happiness is there in such an enterprise?
I feel poor Josie will be forever haunted by her actions, and whatever fame or satisfaction she gains will also be tainted by them.
My poor brother, meanwhile, must return to his college, where it is likely everyone will by now be aware of his wretched predicament, and complete his work before he leaves for France. Whether he will return to work in Cambridge, I cannot say.
Anthony, meanwhile, will remain with us and probably study with James's tutor next year. The poor child seems quite baffled by what has happened.
My dear Jonathan, I know how much affection Mama and Papa have for you and I would plead, if it were at all possible, that you visit them when you can find the time. It would greatly improve their spirits.
Richard and I also look forward to seeing you and Anna again, when you can drag yourselves away from the peaceful haven that is Netherfield.
Forgive me if I sound as if our lives have been one long slough of despond. This is not true for we have had very many happy years, until this one!
Were it not for Richard and my dear children, I should have been miserable indeed. My Lizzie has been a comfort and a most agreeable companion. A year ago she was a child; today she is a wise young woman, for whose understanding and company I am most grateful.
The letter ended with the fondest of salutations.
Jonathan Bingley sighed."It seems, my love, I was wrong in thinking that Cassy and Richard were blessed with complete happiness. Like a sunlit garden, there appeared to be nothing that could darken their lives; sadly, it would seem that is no longer true," he said as he handed Cassy's letter to his wife.
* * *
Following the return of Julian Darcy to Cambridge, Cassandra, aware of the need to assist her father, became even more deeply involved in the affairs of Pemberley, while Lizzie undertook the organisation of young Anthony's life.
The little boy, strangely, did not seem to miss either of his parents very much and though sometimes, in his sleep or at play, he would call out for one of them, Lizzie discovered that if the call were swiftly and affectionately answered by her or her mother, he appeared to be satisfied. Plainly, the child had no deep bond with either parent.
He was a pleasing, affectionate little fellow and was no trouble to teach, so eager was he to learn and keep up with his cousin James, while Lizzie, having developed a special relationship with him in London, enjoyed his confidence.
Until arrangements could be made in the New Year to engage a tutor for both boys, Lizzie had taken over the task of teaching them. Often, when the weather was fine, she would take them out for a nature walk, up the road, through the village, and into the woods or meadows, an experience they all thoroughly enjoyed.
It was on one of these days that Lizzie saw a familiar figure come out of the tobacconist's shop in the main street. The man, on seeing them, stopped a
nd tipped his hat. In that instant, she recognised him: it was Mr Andrew Jones.
The two boys had stopped to look in the window of a shop that sold toy soldiers and, though she would have liked to have got them away sooner, Lizzie could not persuade them to leave. Seeing her waiting for the children, Mr Jones crossed the street and quite deliberately walked towards them. Lizzie was both annoyed and confused. She had no desire to speak with him; indeed, in the circumstances, a friend of Mr Barrett was the very last person she wanted to meet. She had by now taken both her charges by the hand, so that when he came up to her, all she could do to acknowledge his greeting was to nod and say good day, while he stood before her, smiling broadly.
After this most perfunctory exchange, she urged the boys to hurry lest they be late for tea. Andrew Jones tried to keep up with them, but Lizzie, who knew the village well, had the advantage over him and, claiming they had someone to see in the village, she plunged first down one narrow street and then another, until they came upon the lane that ran all the way down to the river and across the footbridge.
Despite the unsuitability of her shoes for tramping across fields, she pressed on, encouraged by the obvious pleasure of the boys who were enjoying this unusual adventure, jumping puddles and scrambling over stiles, until they were within sight of home. There, she stopped to catch her breath and clean the mud off her shoes. Her face was flushed with the exercise and she was cross at herself for being so upset at meeting Mr Jones.
Even as she went upstairs to her room, having surrendered her two muddy pupils to the housekeeper for bathing and changing, Lizzie wondered what could have brought Jones into the district. Surely, she thought, he must know that the families of both Julian and Josie lived in the area and, as a friend of Barrett's, he would not be welcome among them. She marvelled at his arrogance in believing that she would acknowledge him and be seen walking with him in the village. It was a preposterous notion. Lizzie could still feel her anger rising as she thought about it and wished with all her heart that she had had the presence of mind and the wit to say something that would have put him in his place.
When she had indulged herself with a long, hot, lavender-scented bath, put on fresh clothes and shoes, and brushed out her hair, she began to feel a little calmer. It was still not quite tea time, but the maid had brought her some anyway, which she took with her into the sitting room. She hoped to practice for a while at the pianoforte and, having selected some music, had been seated at the instrument only a little while, when she heard the sound of a carriage coming up the drive.
Believing it to be her mother, who had been at Pemberley all day, attending to the concerns of Mr Darcy's tenants, Lizzie continued playing. Moments later, the maid opened the door of the room to admit Mr Carr. Lizzie sprang up from her seat as he came towards her. He looked rather awkward and uneasy, she thought and wondered what could be amiss, when taking her hand, he said,"Miss Gardiner, forgive me if I have intruded upon you, but I have only just heard the sad news about your uncle, Mr Julian Darcy…I am so very sorry."
Lizzie's cheeks flamed with embarrassment. How could he have discovered it? Who could have told him? she wondered.
"Mr Carr, thank you for your concern; indeed it is a very unhappy situation for my uncle and the rest of his family, but may I ask how you learned of his misfortune? Was it from my brother Darcy?" she asked, bewildered that the news had reached him so swiftly.
"No indeed, it was only by the merest accident," he explained."I went into the inn at Matlock around midday and there met a fellow who was interested, so the landlord told me, in buying a pair of horses. When I was introduced to him, I recalled that we had met before, in London at a club where I had been with a mutual friend."
Even more confused, Lizzie asked,"And did he tell you of my uncle's troubles? Who is this man?"
"Indeed he did," Carr replied."He claimed he knew Mr Julian Darcy and his wife well; he is from London, a Mr Jones, Andrew Jones."
"Mr Jones!" The name sprang from her lips like a gunshot, before she could stop it. Her outrage was plain, even to Mr Carr.
"Do you know him?" he asked, and she was quick to deny it."I would not say I knew him at all. We have met once or twice at my uncle's house."
Mr Carr nodded and, clearly unaware of any problem, went on,"Well, he is staying in the area before proceeding to spend some time shooting with friends in Cromford, he said. He wishes to acquire a pair of horses and was interested in mine. I'm afraid I had to disappoint him; I am not selling any horses, though I told him he was welcome to visit the stud and take a look at them, if he had a mind to do so," he explained, while Lizzie could scarcely contain her anger.
At this point, Mr Carr, alerted by the sharpness of Lizzie's voice as well as the frown on her face, added,"It was when he heard that I had come to purchase the property through the good offices of your father and brother that he, aware of the family connection, told me of your Uncle Julian's unhappy situation."
"I was completely ignorant of the circumstances, but he seemed very well informed. When he appeared to want to tell me more about Mrs Darcy and his friend Barrett, of whom I had no knowledge at all, I confess I felt uneasy and made an excuse to get away."
Lizzie could well believe it. He looked most awkward and unhappy but, determined to be helpful, he said his piece."Miss Gardiner, if this is true, I am very sorry. I came directly to offer any assistance that you or your parents may need at this time. If there is anything at all that I can do to help, please do not hesitate to ask."
There was no doubting the sincerity of his offer and the quite genuine concern in his voice. The gravity of his countenance was evidence that he had been shocked by the news.
Lizzie, who had at first felt vexed and uncomfortable at this intrusion into their lives, soon realised that Mr Carr was not to blame; it had been the insufferable Mr Jones who had been so eager to gossip about Josie and Mr Barrett. Mr Carr had come only to offer sympathy and help, if it was needed, and was surely to be commended, not blamed.
This time, she spoke more gently and with greater appreciation.
"Thank you, Mr Carr; I am sorry to have to say there is some truth in what you have heard. Josie, Mrs Darcy, has left my uncle's house, though with what motive, we are not as yet certain. I will convey your sentiments to my parents, and I am sure they will appreciate your concern," she said,"especially Mama, who is at Pemberley today helping my grandfather, Mr Darcy, with the management of his estate, undertaking many of the tasks that should have been the responsibility of my Uncle Julian."
Mr Carr nodded, appearing to understand the difficulties they faced, and once again offered his help."I can only say again that if there is anything at all I can do, I should be most happy…you must feel free to call on me…"
However, when Lizzie, beginning now to feel kinder towards him, offered him some tea, he politely declined, sensitive perhaps to the feelings of the family and not wishing to intrude upon them any longer.
"I must be back at the farm, Miss Gardiner, but I shall call again if I may. Please convey my regards to your parents. I take it your brother Darcy is still in London?" Lizzie nodded as they went out into the hall. They were almost at the door when Cassandra arrived, alighting from the carriage and coming quickly up the steps into the house.
On seeing Mr Carr in the hall, she greeted him cordially and, having assured him he was definitely not intruding, invited him to return to the sitting room and take tea with her."I have something very particular to ask of you," she said, and Mr Carr was happy to oblige. This was exactly what he had hoped to do.
"Lizzie, darling, would you ask Alice to fetch a large pot of tea? I shall probably need two cups at least and I am sure Mr Carr will join us, will you not?"
said Cassy, turning to him, and this time he did not decline.
As Lizzie went to order more tea, she wondered how Mr Carr and her mother would negotiate the perilous waters of her uncle's situation, but she need not have worried. When she returned, with Alic
e bearing tea and cake, she found them deep in discussion not of Julian Darcy's marital problems, but the vexatious claims of some lease holders who, having recently come into the district, were demanding access to the Commons, land which had been for generations the preserve of the people in the two villages that lay within the boundaries of the estates of Pemberley and Camden Park.
"You see, Mr Carr, my father and Sir Thomas Camden chose not to enclose the Commons and deprive the people of their rights. Now, these men, who have themselves evicted many poor tenant farmers from their lands, want the same rights. My father will not hear of it, and I believe Sir Thomas agrees with him.
I need to discover whether their claims have any legal force. I do not wish to alert these men by calling in my father's attorney, but if you were to make some discreet enquiries…"
Mr Carr was happy to be of use and, even before she had finished her question, he had offered to see his attorney and obtain an opinion for her. Cassy was very pleased.
"Thank you very much indeed, Mr Carr," she said, as Lizzie poured out the tea."It would not have been so aggravating if they had a genuine interest in the improvement of the land, but most of them are merely seeking to make a profit by harassing perfectly decent people and pushing them off their small holdings.
My father is very angry about it; he has already accommodated two families who have been evicted by these men, families that have farmed here for generations. It is an abominable practice."
Mr Carr agreed and, as they took tea together, Lizzie looked on with some amusement. This businesslike side of her mother she did not often see. No doubt she was getting accustomed to dealing with such matters at Pemberley, Lizzie thought, with a wry smile.
A little later, she was surprised to hear her mother say,"Mr Carr, there is another little matter you can help us with," and as he turned to her, Cassy continued,"Your housekeeper, Mrs Allan, has a sister, Mrs Baines, who used to work for my mother at Pemberley. She has two daughters. Mary the elder girl is married, but Margaret, who cannot be more than eighteen, is still at home, or so my mother believes.
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