She was glad she had acted as she had done. Her father would not have been pleased to see these poor people punished for what seemed such a trivial offence. There were too many harrowing tales of men out of work being transported for poaching to feed their families.
As for the warring tenants, the fact they had been settled in adjoining cottages and seemed to encroach upon each other's unfenced strips of land provided a clue to the problem. They were always in each other's way, their children and animals forever underfoot, a constant source of aggravation. The strip of land in contention was so small, it seemed hardly worth the trouble, but it was all they had and something had to be done to resolve the matter, or there would be no peace.
"Mr Grantham, is there no other piece of land upon which one of these men might work? I believe the solution is to keep them away from one another; if we could provide one with an allotment elsewhere, may it not help?" she asked.
When Grantham, having considered the matter, suggested a possible alternative strip of land nearby, Cassy decided she had the answer to their problem. To avoid setting one against the other, she visited both families and, having explained what was intended, said,"I think we have found a solution that will help you both. Mr Grantham will arrange to make it available to you, but I must have an end to this constant bickering; it is bad for your families and destroys the reputation of my father's estate. I want your word that it will stop." Both men, though not entirely satisfied, accepted her plan. It may not have provided a permanent resolution, but it would at least stop them quarrelling.
Thereafter Mr Grantham drove her home. He was very impressed with the manner in which she had handled the problems, which though slight, could have become an irritation for the master in the future. As they drove through the fading half-light of the evening, Cassy thought she saw a young woman, accompanied by a man, trudging along the path that wound down from the main road towards the woods.
She could not make out the man at all, but the girl was Margaret Baines.
Oh dear, she thought, that looks like Margaret Baines with some admirer from the village. I hope Grantham does not gossip about it, because if he does, everyone else will know and Margaret will be in trouble.
Wisely, she said nothing at all to Mr Grantham.
When she reached home, darkness had fallen and Dr Gardiner had already returned. Cassy, exhausted after her long day, was eager to bathe and change her clothes. Lizzie, meeting her on the stairs, stopped to tell her she looked very tired and Cassy remarked wearily that she probably smelled of the farmyard, too. It had been a long, hard day.
When she came downstairs later, to find that Mr Carr was not dining with them that night, Cassy decided that it was a good opportunity to relax and forget the day's labours. Sufficient unto the day…she thought as she lay on the chaise lounge with her feet up and urged her daughter to"play something tranquil and soft" before dinner was served.
Lizzie obliged and was astonished to see her mother doze off in the middle of it. It had never happened before.
When her husband came downstairs, he could see she was exceedingly tired and determined that he would speak with her about it. It was clear to him that Cassy was exhausting herself. She needed to take a rest from these daily chores.
It seemed that, in Mr Darcy's absence, Cassy was shouldering all of the responsibility for running Pemberley.
What had happened, he wondered, to the scheme that his father-in-law had proposed? Where was the efficient new assistant? It was a matter about which he intended to speak quite firmly with his wife.
There was yet another matter, too, one that would interest Cassy and all the family, but Richard decided, probably wisely, that it could wait for another occasion.
When they went upstairs after dinner, he waited for his wife to come to bed. She had changed into her nightclothes and the fresh, scented linen was most welcoming.
As she got into bed beside him, he said,"Cassy, my dear, you really are overworking yourself; you are so tired, almost exhausted every evening. I think it is time you took a rest from some of these duties. While I know your Papa will be very grateful for all the work you have done, he will not be pleased, should it make you ill. Do you not agree, my love?Why, I don't believe I have ever…" he stopped short, realising when he had no response from her at all, that his well-intentioned lecture was falling on deaf ears.
His wife had snuggled down beside him and fallen fast asleep.
* * *
There was a hint of Autumn in the air when Cassy awoke and found her husband looking at her with great concern. She had overslept, but she was surprised that he had not ridden out as he did every morning.
"It cannot be the slight chill in the air, could it?" she teased, and he returned to sit beside her on the bed.
His expression was solemn."No, it is something far more worrying; Cassy, I am concerned that you are doing far too much, you are thinner than I have seen you in years and last night, you fell asleep, even before your head touched the pillow. Dearest, this must stop; I cannot let you make yourself ill with overwork."
Cassy was genuinely surprised at his concern. She had been working long hours; going back and forth to Pemberley and coping with the preparations for Lizzie's wedding, which was but a few months away, had all taken their toll. But, she considered herself strong and resilient and tried to allay his fears.
"My dear husband, it is very kind and sweet of you to be concerned, but I assure you, I am not unwell and unlikely to be. I admit things have been hectic in this last week or two, but that is not usual. Once we move into Autumn and harvest time…"
He interrupted her."Things will become even busier, will they not? Forgive me, my dear. I am not a farmer, but I do know that harvest time is one of the busiest times in the country. Where is this new man we were to employ, who would do all the routine tasks for you? Why is he not here?"
It was then she realised how little she had shared with him over the last few weeks. Richard, to whom she had always taken her problems, confident that his wisdom and common sense would help her resolve them, had not heard a word of the dilemma she faced with John Archer and her decision to delay the appointment of an assistant until her father returned. When the maid brought in her tea, she sat up and, as she drank it, slowly savouring the pleasure of the hot, sweet drink and the comfort of her warm bed, she told him everything.
It was not easy at first; Cassy had made decisions, which she had to explain, and there had been reasons for those decisions, of which Richard knew nothing.
His logical mind probed, asking questions, to which sometimes she had no answer, except that she had relied upon her instincts. She felt exposed and uneasy, like a child who had been always praised for doing things well and had suddenly found she had, inexplicably, done something wrong.
Yet, Richard was the kindest, most reasonable of men. Sensitive to her feelings, aware of her unease, he took away her empty cup and, sitting close beside her, took her hands in his.
"And why have you not told me of these troublesome matters, Cassy? Did you not think I could help?" he asked, and she was quick to deny it.
"Oh no, that wasn't the reason; dear Richard, you have always helped me when I needed it, but I do know how hard you work at the hospital, how often you are called out to suffering people, who are in pain or dying.
"I had no wish to trouble you with trivial matters, tenants' problems, and men like John Archer…you ought not be bothered with them," she said trying to explain.
He responded with his usual concern for her."Perhaps not with them, my dearest, but I do wish to know when something or someone vexatious provokes you. It matters not how trivial it may be; if it impinges upon your peace of mind and is likely to cause you aggravation, I must know. Because that is what our marriage is about, is it not?
"Whether I can help solve the problem or not is not the question; my concern is to share your burden and, if I can help in any way, then so be it. If not, we will attempt to find a solution
or consult someone who can help. But, because I love you, Cassy, I must be allowed to try. You have to trust me with your troubles.
"Do you not agree? Is that not what we said to our daughter only a few days ago? Is it not one reason we have been so very happy together all these years?" His voice was warm and kind and there was little need for her to answer.
His words, gentle and persuasive, brought all her affection for him to the surface with expressions of gratitude and tenderness. She felt great relief, as she revealed, not just how much the petty grievances and vexatious problems she'd had to deal with had taken out of her, but the deep loneliness she had felt, being away from him and her children. Never before had it been so, and she promised him, then, that it would never be allowed to happen again. For her husband, who had endured the painful isolation from her without complaint for several weeks, it was all he had hoped for. Nothing mattered as much to Richard as the love they shared.
It was quite some time later that they decided it was time to go downstairs. The mid-morning sun was streaming into the breakfast room and, outside, they could see Laura Ann, James, and Anthony, with Miss Long hurst, reading in the shade of the oak, whose leaves were just turning to gold.
Breakfast was leisurely, continuing their present mood of fondness."Are you not expected at the hospital today, Richard?" Cassy asked, as they took tea.
He shook his head and smiled."No, not today, Henry Forrester is seeing my patients this morning. I had a presentiment that I may be needed at home."
Cassy laughed and poured out more tea."To attend upon your recalcitrant wife?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.
"Indeed, and a more pleasant reason I cannot imagine, especially since she is recalcitrant no longer!" he replied, kissing her gently as he rose to go to the sideboard.
Returning to the table, he looked casually out of the window and saw Lizzie running towards the house. She looked dishevelled and very upset.
"Good God, what on earth can have happened? Lizzie looks very distressed," he said and, as they both went to the window, they saw Mr Grantham and Mr Carr striding up the drive behind her.
Cassy rushed out into the hall, just as Lizzie ran up the steps and almost collided with her mother."Lizzie, darling, what is it?What has happened?" she asked, but Lizzie was cold and trembling. She could hardly speak, except to make dreadful sounds like someone who had seen a ghost."Lizzie, speak to me please," begged her mother, but by that time Richard had gone out to meet Mr Carr and Grantham, who stood together at the bottom of the steps.
"He's dead, Mama; he's dead and it's horrible. Oh Mama!…" Lizzie found her voice and sobbed, hiding her face against her mother.
Cassy went rigid with terror.
"Who is dead, Lizzie? Tell me, child, who is it?" Her thoughts flew to all those of her family who were out of her sight or away from home: her father, her two sons, Colonel Fitzwilliam, her brother…it was a moment of absolute paralysis, as she stood, holding her daughter, unable to discover who it was had died and caused Lizzie such distress.
Then Richard came in with the others. He saw and understood the unasked question in his wife's eyes and, wanting to reassure her, said quickly,"A body has been found on the floor of the quarry. A man…Mr Carr thinks it may be someone who has recently been in these parts, a certain Mr Jones…"
"Mr Jones? Not Andrew Jones the man who…?" before she could finish asking the question, her husband answered,"Yes, but a formal identification has still to be made. Mr Grantham has informed the police and I am afraid, my dear, I shall have to attend and provide a report."
The relief Cassy felt was so great, tears poured down her cheeks, as she held on to Lizzie and nodded when he asked if she could cope. Her maid Lucy appeared and they took Lizzie upstairs and settled her down in her room, before Richard embraced them both, assured them he would be back as soon as possible, and left with Mr Grantham.
Mr Carr, who had arrived to see Lizzie, had met Grantham at the entrance to the drive, where he had learned the grim news. It had been impossible to keep the story from Lizzie when she joined them.
Now, having been assured that Lizzie would soon be well, he decided to go into town himself and make some enquiries about Jones. What, he wondered, was Jones, if that was who it was and it seemed very likely from Grantham's description that indeed it was Jones, doing back in the village? All the information he had obtained had led him to believe that Andrew Jones had moved to Derby.
Lizzie, who was persuaded to rest in bed and tell her mother what she had heard, was at a loss to explain who had found the body and by what means Grantham had discovered that it was Jones. All she knew was what she had heard from Mr Grantham and Mr Carr, who had been discussing the terrible news as she went to join them at the entrance.
"I had no notion anything was wrong; I assumed Mr Grantham had come for you, Mama. I thought you were going with him to attend to matters at Pemberley. When I heard, I was so shocked, because we thought Mr Jones had moved to Derby," she explained."Both Mr Carr and my brother Darcy said so, and yet it appears he was here all the time."
Cassy was baffled."It is strange indeed that he should be here and why in that part of the country? No one, but people who have grown up in the farms and villages around Pemberley, would even know of the path that goes through the quarry. Some of the lads use it to save time coming across the Common, but how would Jones know of it? And, I wonder what brought him back?"
Cassy had only a vague recollection of Mr Jones, but Lizzie remembered him only too well. When her mother wondered aloud whether it could have been the same man she had seen walking with Margaret Baines, when returning last night from Pemberley, Lizzie sat up with a very startled expression,"Mama, did you say 'walking with Margaret Baines on the Matlock Road last night?'"
"Yes, I did. It was quite late last evening. Grantham was driving me home and we saw them, at least I am sure he saw them, too, but he said nothing. It was a young man; I could not see his face, of course, but I assumed he was young from his slim figure and the clothes he wore. They were very fashionable, good quality clothes. I assumed it was an admirer of Margaret's."
"His coat, Mama, was it long with a big collar, like so?" asked Lizzie demonstrating with her hands a wide collar of the type that some fashionable gentlemen in London favoured. Lizzie recalled that Jones had been wearing such a coat when he accosted her in the village.
Her mother replied,"I could not see how long it was, but yes, I did notice the big collar. Indeed, that struck me—I thought he looked something of a toff, and I wondered at Margaret keeping company with him. But I suppose I was just too tired to mention it last night."
Then Lizzie, recalling the evening when she and Laura had seen Margaret with a man, who had disappeared into the trees on their approach, uttered a cry and hid her face in her pillow. Her mother suddenly realised the import of her words and cried,"Oh my God, Lizzie, no, it cannot be. Margaret would not be so foolish, surely?"
There was not sufficient time to ponder the question, as a knock on the door heralded the appearance of Miss Long hurst, who brought the news that Margaret Baines had not arrived for work that morning.
"I am sorry, Mrs Gardiner, I had intended to draw your attention to it, but Dr Gardiner had told Lucy you were very tired and not to be disturbed, so I took the children out into the garden after breakfast and did not get another opportunity to tell you," she explained, then seeing Lizzie lying with her face hidden in her pillow, asked,"Is Miss Lizzie unwell? Is there anything I can do to help?" and Cassy said at once,"Indeed yes, Miss Long hurst, there is. Could you please ask Lucy to bring us up a pot of tea? Lizzie has been upset by some bad news; there's been a death in the village."
"A death! Oh dear," said Miss Long hurst."Oh, dear me, that must be dreadful. Was it someone known to Miss Lizzie? A friend?" She was immediately solicitous and very curious.
Cassy shook her head."Not a friend, no. It is not yet certain, but it looks like it may be a gentleman Lizzie met last year, at my b
rother's house in Cambridge. Dr Gardiner is gone to the scene with the police;we shall probably know by afternoon. Now, I do think Lizzie could do with that cup of tea, please, Miss Long hurst,"Cassy prompted, and she was away in a trice, still shaking her head at the strange news.
No doubt she would pick up more details from the servants, thought Cassy. On these matters, they always knew so much more.
She was right. By afternoon, the entire staff seemed to know. The dead man was a Mr Andrew Jones of London and more recently from Derby, where he had purported to run a print shop, but no one could find anyone who'd worked there. Recently, too, he had been visiting the village, apparently staying with friends in Cromford, but drinking and occasionally sleeping overnight at the inn.
There was news, too, that in the last two weeks he had been seen in the woods, walking with Margaret Baines! She had been seen by the butcher's boy, who had told the cook and the scullery maid. Indeed, she had even been teased about it in the kitchen.
Later that afternoon, the butcher's boy called and more dreadful details were revealed. Jones's body, with its skull smashed and back broken, had been found by a farmhand, taking the shortcut through the quarry, who had fled in terror to Mr Grantham's house and told his story. Grantham had called the police who had sent him to request Dr Gardiner's attendance at the scene. The maid, Lucy, had it all and retailed it to her mistress and Lizzie.
By the time Richard returned home that evening, having attended the scene where the body had been found, a new nightmare had begun.
Margaret Baines had not merely failed to show up at the house for work that morning, she had not reached home last night. Her mother had arrived around midday, in search of her daughter.
Mr. Darcy's Daughter Page 27