Mr. Darcy's Daughter

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  "If this is the case, I should like to offer her some regular work here, assisting my housekeeper and helping with the two boys, James and my brother's son Anthony, who will be staying with us. I wonder if I may trouble you to convey a message to Mrs Allan and through her to Mrs Baines? If she is agreeable, I should like to see her and Margaret in the next day or so."

  As Lizzie watched, somewhat bemused, Mr Carr appeared not at all put out by her mother's request and promised to convey the message to his housekeeper that very evening. Indeed, he appeared now much more at ease than when he had first arrived, clearly happy to be of service. Having finished his tea, he left, but not before he had been invited to dine with them on the Sunday following, an invitation he accepted with obvious pleasure.

  * * *

  When he had gone, Cassandra put down her empty cup and declared that Mr Carr was such a kind, obliging young man.

  "He puts me in mind of dear Mr Gardiner; he was very similar, always happy to help anyone who asked, ever ready to put himself out for a friend. He was such a wonderful man," she mused sadly.

  Lizzie smiled and agreed that Mr Carr was indeed kind and obliging, but was it fair, she asked, to make use of him to run errands for them? She had been amused by the casual manner in which her mother had asked him to take a message to his housekeeper. This was certainly not the sort of thing Mrs Darcy or her sister Mrs Jane Bingley would have done.

  But Cassy expressed astonishment at her question.

  "Run errands? Lizzie, I am surprised at you!Whatever do you mean by run errands?Why, Mr Carr, having heard of the awful business of your Uncle Julian and Aunt Josie, had very kindly offered to help, 'in any way, ' he said. 'Please don't hesitate to ask, ' he said. So, having taken him into our confidence as a neighbour and a friend of your brother's, a gentleman of whom your Papa approves, I asked for his help in a couple of small but important matters, which I could not attend to myself. As you saw, Mr Carr agreed gladly. Said he was most happy to oblige. There is surely nothing wrong in that? Is there?"

  Lizzie, faced with this completely logical, if somewhat unusual argument, gave in."No, Mama, of course not. It is only that I feel we should not treat Mr Carr any differently to the way we would treat our other friends and neighbours," she said, and Cassy replied,"Do you mean, would I ask Sir Thomas Camden to give a message to his housekeeper? Oh Lizzie, that would be silly, because I do not believe Sir Thomas ever speaks to his housekeeper, unless it were to complain of some inadequacy; that is his way. Mr Carr is different; he is younger, for one thing, of a different generation, and remember, Lizzie, he is an American. They do not stand on ceremony as we do."

  And seeing her daughter's smile widen considerably, she said,"Come now, Lizzie, you cannot tell me that he wasn't happy to be asked to help?"

  Realising that she had no chance of winning this debate, Lizzie surrendered, and mother and daughter went upstairs together to rest before dressing for dinner.

  Lying in her bed, Lizzie could see from her window the branches of the old elm, moving restlessly against the blue of the late-afternoon sky arching overhead. Lizzie loved the elm, like an old friend. She, with her brother Darcy, had often climbed into its sturdy arms to look at the world beyond their own domestic environment. You could see all the way across the river and into the village beyond, and if you were brave enough to climb higher, Darcy used to tell her, you could see into the next county, with the smoke rising from the kilns of the potteries. Lizzie had never climbed high enough, afraid that she would be caught by their nurse, who would surely disapprove of young girls clambering around in trees. There was also the ever-present fear that she may fall and break a leg.

  But, Lizzie did recall an occasion, some years ago, when Josie Tate, who was the same age as Darcy, had climbed so high into the tree, she had been terrified, unable to get back down again, and had to be rescued by the gardener using a ladder and rope.

  There had been a great fuss about that. Lizzie smiled as she recalled her mother's stern words to Darcy for leading Josie astray.

  They had all been great friends then; that was, of course, before their Uncle Julian had fallen in love with her and things had changed considerably for Josie Tate.

  * * *

  By the time Mr Carr returned to dine with them on Sunday, several things had taken place. Darcy Gardiner had returned, coming away from the election campaign to spend a week at home, and he had brought bad news. The story of Julian and Josie had"got around London," he said, and several people were speaking quite disparagingly of Josie.

  "The women see her as a wicked, selfish creature, who has deserted her husband and child, while the men think she is a stupid woman who has been gulled into leaving a decent man for a charlatan. No one has a good word for Barrett, except Miss Hetty Wallace-Groom, who claims that Aunt Josie seduced him away from her!"

  Darcy was scathing."It would be laughable, if it were not so tragic, especially for poor Uncle Julian, who is portrayed as a decent but weak man, a bookworm who allowed another man to steal his wife from under his nose, without a word of protest!"

  Neither Lizzie nor her mother, to whom he revealed these appalling tales, was surprised. It was the sort of gossip one expected to hear in London. They begged him, however, not to let his grandparents hear of it.

  "It would break their hearts," said Cassy."As for Julian, he will soon be out of it for some time, when he goes to Paris. It will do him good to be among men who are his equal in intelligence and education."

  Another matter, closer to home, had been settled, too. Cassandra had engaged young Margaret Baines, who had arrived accompanied by her mother, who had agreed to the terms proposed for her employment.

  Mrs Baines, herself a widow, lived alone and asked if her daughter could return home at night, after work. Margaret, she had said, was her only companion, and Cassandra had made no objection.

  Since the majority of her work would concern the care of the two little boys, it was quite possible, she said, to let the girl return home each night, unless there was some exceptional circumstance. She could also have Sundays off to spend with her mother. It was an arrangement that pleased every one of the parties.

  Cassy was happy with her choice. Margaret Baines was a good-humoured, pleasant girl with a bright smile and a lustrous head of auburn hair that belied her gentle and compliant manner. She would be good for the children, Cassy thought, and arranged for her to start work at the house the following week. Mrs Baines was delighted, too. She had served Mrs Darcy at Pemberley and thought it fitting that her daughter should be chosen to work for Miss Cassandra.

  It was also the week when Edward announced that he was courting the daughter of the senior partner in his medical practice and told his mother he would like his parents to meet Miss Angela Anderson, who had graciously consented to be his wife.

  Cassandra agreed, even though she had had very little notice of her son's inclination to marry the lady. Indeed, except for a dinner party at which both families had been present, Cassy hardly knew Miss Anderson at all. Edward had kept his interest very quiet indeed.

  Naturally, she asked some questions and then wrote a note inviting Miss Anderson and her younger sister Catherine to lunch with the family on Sunday.

  Edward would take it to her on the following day; he was sure she would accept, he said.

  Cassy was pleased. Here, at last, was something wholesome and happy to occupy them. Miss Anderson would soon become the subject of speculation and study—from her looks and clothes to her nature, her taste in books and music, and, of course, the size of her fortune. Of the latter, they confidently predicted it would be quite reasonable. Her father was a senior physician and surgeon and had a very large and lucrative practice in Derby, catering primarily to the needs of the wives and children of rich bankers and businessmen. That Edward had courted and won her with such discretion, waiting until he was sure both of her feelings and his own, was truly typical of his unassuming and careful nature, said his mother.

/>   "Edward is not the sort to rush headlong into a marriage," she said, adding with a sigh,"but then, neither was Julian!"

  When Cassy told her husband the news, he seemed pleased, especially since he knew the lady's father in a professional capacity.

  "He is a very distinguished physician of high repute," he told Cassy, and added that he had also met Miss Anderson when she had accompanied her father to a meeting of the medical fraternity to honour Miss Florence Nightingale."She is by no means a bashful or unlearned young woman," said Richard, recalling that she had shown a good deal of interest in Miss Nightingale's ideas on hospital hygiene and the prevention of disease.

  "She is their eldest daughter and is much loved by her parents; Edward is a fortunate fellow to have gained their consent," he added, causing his wife to protest with vigour that her Edward was himself very clever, with a good future ahead of him and was such a fine young man that he should be considered a good match for any young lady in the county.

  Her husband, amused at the strength of her loyalty and her spirited defence of their son, agreed, but not before he had teased her a little longer, rousing even more passionate claims on Edward's behalf.

  Cassy's unyielding fidelity to her family, whether it was her parents, her in-laws, or her husband and children, was absolute. She would do or say anything to defend them against anyone. It was an endearing trait that had always amused her husband.

  * * *

  Miss Anderson accepted the invitation for herself and her sister Catherine and so did the Rector, Mr Gray, and his wife.

  There was, therefore, quite a large party assembled for dinner on the Sunday, which had started without much promise but turned out very fair indeed. Edward and his lady, who, it was generally agreed, was quite amiable and pretty, but not really beautiful, were to sit beside Cassy, with the Rector and Mrs Gray, while Lizzie found herself seated between her father and Mr Carr, with her brother Darcy and Laura Ann opposite her.

  They were all united on the excellence of the meal and sent many compliments to the cook, but there soon appeared to be a distinct divergence in the content and tenor of the conversation at the two ends of the dining table. While Edward, his mother, Miss Anderson, and her sister Catherine chatted quietly and soberly with the Rector and Mrs Gray about subjects that raised not a very high level of excitement, at the other end of the table, Darcy, Lizzie, and Mr Carr entertained themselves and Dr Gardiner with lighthearted prognostications and hilarious speculation about the possible outcome of the election and how disconcerted the Queen would be if Palmerston, rather than Lord Derby, won the day. Darcy Gardiner's impersonations of the royal personage and Lord Palmerston had them greatly amused.

  Mr Carr confessed that he had a problem of understanding, too. Having spent most of his life in two republics, he claimed he could not comprehend the role of the Queen in English politics. The Queen, whom he described as"a rather glum-looking lady in black" (which remark he was immediately forced by young Laura Ann to"withdraw or be tried forthwith for treason"), had no real constitutional power, he said, yet all the politicians seemed to be vying for her approval!

  "I confess, I find this to be strange in the extreme," he remarked.

  "But, no stranger, surely," said Lizzie,"than the role of a President who must send an American army to subdue other Americans who demand freedom for themselves, but refuse to free their slaves?"

  This adroit riposte brought instant and willing capitulation from Mr Carr.

  "Touché, Miss Gardiner, I have no answer to that conundrum."

  "I can see you are going to need a few lessons in English history, Mr Carr," said Richard, and Darcy declared that Lizzie would be the best person to teach him, since she was a great student of history herself.

  This brought on a further lively discussion, which continued through dessert, until it was time for the ladies to withdraw to the drawing room.

  While there had been a good deal of conversation on a range of subjects through the evening, there was an unspoken conspiracy of silence on the one topic that was uppermost in the minds of many in the family, for no one had mentioned either Julian or Josie at all.

  Lizzie felt for her mother, knowing how concerned she was for her brother; yet now, they were all behaving as if he did not exist. No one spoke of him anymore, yet he had done nothing wrong except to be guilty of too great a concentration upon his work.

  Perhaps, thought Lizzie, this constituted neglect of his wife and had helped destroy her love for him. Lizzie had not worked out, in her own mind, how deeply either party was to blame for the debacle that followed, but she was absolutely certain of the culpability of Mr Barrett and his friend Mr Jones.

  When the gentlemen returned to the drawing room, the pianoforte was opened and the ladies and gentlemen were invited to entertain the party.

  While Miss Anderson modestly declined, her young sister obliged with a spirited rendition of a march by Schubert that would have had anyone who was feeling drowsy instantly wide awake. The generous applause she received encouraged her to give them another, less vigorous piece, after which Lizzie was urged to take her place at the instrument.

  Lizzie was a confident and talented pianist, for she'd had many years of study with her cousin William Courtney, who was now a very distinguished practitioner. She played one or two fine compositions that had everyone demanding more and then, to the very great delight of at least one member of the party, she played and sang"Les Petites Oiseaux."

  Before leaving, Mr Carr thanked his hosts most sincerely and made a point of telling their daughter how much he had enjoyed her singing. Lizzie smiled, acknowledging his praise, and when he expressed the hope that he would hear her sing again, said, without affectation,"Of course, Mr Carr, and thank you for the song."

  Michael Carr had observed Miss Gardiner as she talked, played, sang, and then helped her mother with the tea, all it had seemed to him, in a most charming manner. He could not recall another young lady whose every quality and action had been so pleasing to him.

  And she was exceedingly pretty, too.

  * * *

  The Summer of 1865 was memorable for many reasons.

  Darcy Gardiner had returned to Westminster and then proceeded to Hertfordshire, where Mr Colin Elliott was engaged in an exhilarating election campaign to hold off a Tory opponent, one who claimed that civilisation itself would be at risk if the Reformists had their way and Mr Gladstone were to form a government. It was a campaign that had worked often, but on this occasion appeared not to be credible.

  In July, to their chagrin, the Tories faced defeat again and, to the immense delight of Colin Elliott, James Wilson, and his other supporters, it seemed that their campaign for reform was back on the agenda. Lord Russell had given Mr Gladstone a cast-iron promise, and even the return of Palmerston as leader could not dull their jubilation. He was eighty after all and would soon have to retire. In fact, three months later, Palmerston was dead and Lord Russell took over leadership of the party.

  Returning triumphant from London, Darcy Gardiner was immediately dragooned by his sisters into helping with preparations for the country dance, which he had persuaded his friend Mr Carr to give at Rushmore Farm. There was much to be done and very little time left in which to get it done. His help, they said, was absolutely vital to the success of the occasion.

  Cassandra had been too busy with her father's estate to offer much more than encouragement to Mr Carr in organising his first important social function at Rushmore Farm, but both Lizzie and Laura Ann had been active in assisting with plans and suggestions, as well as practical help, during the days leading up to the dance. It was fortunate for them that little Anthony and James had both taken so quickly and happily to their new companion, Margaret Baines, who was proving invaluable, so releasing them to assist Mr Carr.

  At the farm, many things had to be organised precisely.

  Unlike at Pemberley, there was no ballroom, which meant the indoor spaces had to be cleared and made ready for da
ncing, while a great marquee was erected on the lawn for the diners and drinkers, who were expected to far outnumber the dancers.

  Workmen had to be found to erect a stage for the musicians and a host of men and women were engaged to cook and serve the food, which had to be plentiful. Mr Carr was determined that he would not be seen as some skinflint who let his guests go home hungry.

  Looking at the lists he had prepared, Lizzie declared there was certainly no danger of that, rather there might well be many cases of indigestion caused by over-indulgence, she warned.

  On returning home one afternoon, after spending the morning at Rushmore Farm, supervising the arrangements for the musicians, Lizzie found waiting for her a letter from her Aunt Emma Wilson in reply to one she had written on a matter that had disturbed her greatly.

  The appearance in the neighbourhood of Mr Andrew Jones had caused her much disquiet, prompting her to write to her aunt, complaining of his brazen and insensitive attempt to approach her in the village and asking whether, if he did so again, she should speak her mind:

  I should so like to convey my feelings of utter revulsion at his conduct and that of his friend, for I am convinced he was involved in assisting Mr Barrett to induce Aunt Josie to leave her home and family. Perhaps, if I do so, he may be persuaded not to pester me at least, if not to leave the district entirely.

  Emma Wilson had been a source of comfort and counsel before, and Lizzie found it easier to confide in her, rather than raise the matter with her mother, who had more than enough to worry about. Emma's sage advice, arriving as it did a few days before the dance, was exactly what her niece needed. She wrote:

  Regarding the matter of the odious Mr Andrew Jones, 'twere best, my darling Lizzie, when all things are considered, including your own welfare and my peace of mind, to leave the wretched man to his own devices. Unhappily, there is no law against the

  Do not, I beg you, become embroiled in any conversation or disputation with him, which he, for his own wicked purposes, may falsely report or deliberately misconstrue, in order to denigrate you. It is enough that he and his friend have damaged one young woman in our family already; I would urge you, my dear niece, to ignore him altogether.