“Are you sure they will not be very angry at being kept in the dark?” Kate asked, anxious that her husband should not bear some of the opprobrium for William’s perceived misdemeanours. But Darcy reassured her, “I have no doubt that some of them may well be angry. My grandmother is not very forgiving, and Julian may not be very sympathetic, although in his case, I am hopeful that Jessica, being more tender-hearted, may in time persuade her husband to see her brother in a kinder light. As for the rest, I feel sure that when I have disclosed everything I know, all that William has told me, they will understand… They will at least see that William has not behaved so badly after all.”
Darcy’s youthful optimism was not entirely shared by his wife, who knew that in such disputes family members could not always be counted on to act with a degree of rationality, and she hoped, for his sake, that Darcy would not be disappointed and hurt by the experience.
* * *
On returning to Derbyshire, both Darcy and Kate found plenty to employ their time. She at the school, which was soon to open for the new term, and he at Pemberley, where many of the new ideas he had introduced were being applied for the first time and he was anxious to see that everything was done right. He knew Mr Darcy counted on him and was keen not to disappoint his grandfather.
He had ensured that the letters from William Courtney had been delivered, but was uncertain how each of the recipients had responded to the information they contained, except in the case of his parents, who had received the news with remarkable equanimity. His mother had read William’s letter with interest, and on reaching the paragraph about William’s intention to marry Fraulein Clara, Cassy had announced, “Oh, William is getting married and in Vienna! Did he tell you all about it, Darcy?” and when Darcy had acknowledged that he had, she’d continued reading as though there was nothing extraordinary at all about the news. By the time his mother had reached the end of the letter, Darcy had decided that William need not have feared Cassy’s reaction at all. He did, nevertheless, take the time to sing his cousin’s praises and reveal the facts about his correspondence with his mother, and Kate added her admiration for the talent and beauty of the young lady who was to be his bride. Cassy had smiled and accepted the information without comment, while Dr Gardiner had taken the news with barely a raised eyebrow, reminding his wife that they had spent a very pleasant holiday in Vienna some years ago. “It’s a very beautiful city and renowned for its music; it should suit William very well,” he remarked before returning to his reading.
It was quite clear to Darcy that his parents, no matter what opinion they held of William’s previous conduct, were not going to express any criticism of his planned marriage to the young opera singer.
Visiting Pemberley one afternoon, Darcy wondered whether his grandparents would be as restrained in their response to William’s news. He got no indication at all when both Mr and Mrs Darcy made no mention of William’s letter throughout the entire afternoon. It seemed as though they were determined to ignore him and the news of his marriage altogether. Taking their cue from them, Darcy and Kate said little, except to relate how well they had enjoyed the concert and the ensuing visit to the Continis’ luxurious villa in Richmond. This information was received with expressions of pleasure, but nothing more.
Not until Mrs Darcy had retired upstairs to rest before dinner and his grandfather had walked out with them to their carriage, did Darcy get any satisfaction. Waiting until Kate was settled in the vehicle, Mr Darcy had drawn his grandson aside, out of earshot of the servants, before saying, “I would not be too disappointed, Darcy, I know you are wondering how we have received William’s letter; remember that your grandmother loved Emily very dearly and was exceedingly hurt by what she supposed to be William’s neglect of his mother. Cassy was here yesterday, and she has told us all the news you brought back from London; both your grandmother and I were relieved to learn of the letters that had been exchanged between William and his mother; at the very least it means that Emily did not feel abandoned by her son at the end. I am glad that William has explained his behaviour, but it will take some time for us to come to terms with it.”
Then, as though he sensed Darcy’s growing disappointment, he added in a gentler tone, “However, I do want you to know that I am very happy that you have met with your cousin and intend to remain in contact with him. Emily would have been pleased, too; she would not have wanted William to be estranged from all his family on account of a misunderstanding. As for his marriage to this young lady, Fraulein Clara Kunz, it is a matter entirely for William; we wish him well, and I shall write to him acknowledging his letter and conveying our best wishes for his happiness. Perhaps, when you are next in touch, you may wish to add my own congratulations for his remarkable success in his musical career. I am delighted for him.”
There was no doubting his sincerity, and Darcy, elated and happy, was eager to respond, “Thank you indeed, sir; I am very glad that you approve; I had feared that some members of the family may have been distressed at my praise of William, but I assure you—”
Mr Darcy interrupted him gently, “Some may, but, Darcy, you have acted with the very best intentions, and I believe you have done the right thing. If others disagree, it does not in any way reduce the value of what you have done. I think you did well.”
“Thank you, sir,” Darcy said again, and this time, noting that Kate was leaning out of the carriage, wondering what had become of her husband, Mr Darcy moved him towards the vehicle, waited until the door was shut, and waved them on.
As they drove away, Kate turned to Darcy. “What did he say? Was he very angry with William?” she asked, eager to discover what had passed between them.
Darcy smiled. “Not at all,” he said, “knowing all the facts as we do now, that would be most unfair to William, and as you know, Mr Darcy is never unfair.”
End of Part One
The Legacy of Pemberley
Part Two
Solitary Lives
Chapter One
Georgiana was returning to Pemberley. Her son Frank Grantley, the rector of Kympton, and his wife, Amy, had travelled to Oxford to fetch her home. Since the death of Dr Grantley a month ago, Mrs Grantley, though much loved by her friends in Oxford, no longer had a home there, nor a significant role to fill in the academic community of which her husband had been such a distinguished member.
Georgiana was well provided for, having both her own income and a substantial benefit left to her by Dr Grantley. She had, therefore, the capacity to purchase for herself a property anywhere she chose to live, but had decided to accept the invitation from her brother and sister-in-law to spend some time at Pemberley first before deciding upon what to do with the rest of her life. Her letter to Elizabeth made it clear she was very appreciative of their offer. She had written:
Dearest Lizzie,
I really do not know how to thank you and my dear brother for your kindness and understanding. While Virginia and I could have gone to Hampshire for a while, it would not have been very convenient for my dear daughter, and I should have felt in the way, for their arrangements at the parsonage are not commodious nor so well suited to accommodating visitors for longer than a few days. There are also the grandchildren to consider.
I had given some thought to taking a town house in London for a few months, though I have no liking for the hustle and bustle of life in town, but when your letter arrived, I had no difficulty in deciding to come first to Pemberley…
There had never been any question in the minds of Mr and Mrs Darcy of the rightness of their decision, for they both loved Georgiana dearly and had wished to help her endure the loss of a loving husband to whom she had been devoted for many years. Nevertheless, they awaited her arrival with some trepidation, because neither knew quite how to deal with the grieving Georgiana and Virginia, of whom they knew little, save she was inclined to be rather reserved.
Richard and Cassandra Gardiner, Julian Darcy and his wife Jessica, and even Jane and Mr Bingl
ey, although the latter was still unwell, were all gathered at Pemberley to welcome them.
Pemberley had been in mourning already when the news arrived from Oxford that Dr Grantley had succumbed to pneumonia, following an attack of bronchitis that had left him debilitated last Spring.
The blow had been doubly hard on Mr Darcy, who had but recently lost his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. After a year of unrelenting heart disease, the colonel had died, leaving his wife, Caroline, bereft. Elizabeth knew the depth of his grief at losing two of his dearest and most intimate friends.
Yet, despite this, his first thought had been for their wives and families, for Lizzie’s cousin Caroline and his sister, Georgiana. Darcy’s concern had been to secure their present comfort and future well-being.
With Caroline there had been no immediate problem, since their farm at Matlock was secure, and despite her deep affection for the colonel, Caroline’s many interests and activities in the community would help her cope better with her sorrow than Georgiana, whose happiness had depended almost entirely upon the encouragement and approval of her husband. Both women had the company of an unmarried daughter; yet while Rachel Fitzwilliam was generally known to be an amiable and sensitive young woman, Virginia Grantley could be awkward and, since the death of her father, even more submerged in her grief than her mother.
Lizzie was particularly concerned. “Each time I see Caroline, I am desolated by her loss, for they loved each other well and I can see how much she misses the colonel, but at least I am encouraged to hope by Caroline’s great strength and good sense, which pervades everything she does. I confess I am not so confident about Georgiana,” she told her sister Jane and Cassy as they were taking tea together. “Dr Grantley was a good deal older than Georgiana, and I believe he replaced the father she had hardly known and the brother who had taken his place for many years of her childhood and early youth.”
“Do you believe, Mama, that Aunt Georgiana will find it more difficult to face life alone than Cousin Caroline?” Cassy asked.
Before Elizabeth could answer, Jane spoke softly, “Cassy, my dear, it is not something any of us can contemplate with equanimity. I am so afraid for Mr Bingley because he, despite having been so fit and well, seems unable to shake off this last affliction, and not even Richard can explain it. Oh Lizzie, I am so worried.” She cried and bit her lip to keep from weeping.
Elizabeth turned to her sister and took her hand. “Dearest Jane, how thoughtless of me to be rattling on about Caroline and Georgiana with no concern for how you must feel about Bingley, but mark my words, he will improve, now he has given up riding out every morning in all weather. I believe Richard has ordered him to rest, and that is very good, too. Indeed, I thought he looked so much better today, do you not agree, Cassy?”
Cassandra nodded but forbore to say very much more, for she knew from her husband Dr Gardiner that Mr Bingley was much weaker than he had been a year ago. His chest had been badly affected by a severe bout of influenza, and the cold English Winters had done little to help his recovery. Cassy recalled that her husband had looked very grave when he last returned from a visit to the Bingleys at Ashford Park.
When she spoke, it was to suggest something practical. “I think, Aunt Jane, if you could travel south this year to a warmer climate for the Winter, Mr Bingley will certainly benefit greatly. I agree with Mama that he looks much better, and I am sure that more rest will help his recovery, but many of these respiratory ailments are exacerbated by the damp and cold of our northern climate. Will not Mr Bingley agree to travel to Spain or Italy…?” but before she could get much further, a vehicle was heard coming up the drive and they went out to greet their visitors.
Georgiana Grantley stepped out of the carriage, followed by her daughter, Virginia, and her daughter-in-law, Amy. Frank Grantley was already busy helping the servants unload their luggage, which was considerable.
“And there is more, following by train,” he said, “including Mama’s harp and pianoforte and of course hundreds of Papa’s books…” At these words, Virginia, whose red eyes and sodden handkerchief were sufficient evidence that the journey had been a somewhat distressing one for all concerned, burst into tears and ran indoors, leaving Georgiana to explain apologetically that while much of her husband’s library had been donated to his college, there were many personal items that she could not bring herself to discard.
“I could not decide which should or should not be saved,” she said tearfully, “and Virginia had not the heart for the task; it always ended in tears.”
Mr Darcy, who had by now taken charge of the situation, put an arm around his sister and took her indoors, reassuring her as he did so, “Georgiana, my dear, you have no need to explain; of course you could not discard his books and papers. Had I been asked, I should have insisted that anything which Francis did not wish to be gifted to his college must surely be lodged here at Pemberley. It belongs in our library, and there is ample room to accommodate all of it. As for your harp and pianoforte, they are simply returning to their original home in the music room, where you can play them if and when you choose.”
Georgiana thanked her brother and turned to embrace Elizabeth, Jane, and Cassandra before moving to greet Jessica and her baby, Marianne, who were seated by the window.
“She is beautiful, Jessica, and has certainly grown since we last saw her, has she not, Virginia?” she said, and then of course recalling that, on that occasion, Dr Grantley had been with them, both mother and daughter dissolved into tears again. It was the same again when Richard asked if they’d had a comfortable journey, and later when Frank and Amy left to return to their children at the rectory in Kympton. Fortunately, Cassandra had ordered tea and plenty of refreshments, and when they were brought in, there was something to do, for they could all eat and drink, instead of indulging in their mood of deep melancholy.
While no one wished to deny that Georgiana and her daughter had suffered a great loss, both Cassy and Elizabeth wondered at their inability to contain their feelings. Every attempt at conversation, no matter how mundane, would result in tears, and soon the room relapsed into silence as persons ate and drank, but hardly spoke except with caution, lest the floodgates be opened again.
Jessica’s child became fretful, affording her a reason to excuse herself and take her daughter upstairs, while Jane, always tender-hearted, became tearful herself as she pondered the sad fate that had befallen Mrs Grantley. Since her own husband had been taken ill a year or two ago, Jane had begun to brood about the dreadful prospect of widowhood. The deep love and long, happy marriage they had shared had not in any way prepared her for the day when she might have to face life without Mr Bingley. She had simply refused to contemplate the possibility that she might outlive him, because unlike Georgiana and Dr Grantley or Caroline and Fitzwilliam, there was no great difference in their ages. Like her brother-in-law Mr Darcy, Bingley had always been fit and healthy, and since they both led temperate and sensible lives, she had assumed that he would remain so into the future.
While it was not a proposition she would ever put to her sister Lizzie, it did seem to Jane to be rather unfair that while Mr Darcy showed few signs of indisposition, her own dear husband had fallen victim to a malady that he appeared unable to shake off. It was a feeling Jane tried persistently to push into the back of her mind, chiefly because she could not share it with anyone. Yet, she, with her affectionate heart, was least equipped to endure her anguish alone. Seeing Georgiana and Virginia in full formal mourning, tearful and bereft, had brought it all back again, and when everyone else had settled down to their tea, Jane, who had hardly left Mr Bingley’s side, went to get her own. Elizabeth, sensitive to her sister’s feelings, joined her at the table, and as they filled their cups, the sisters touched each other’s hands and looked at one another, acknowledging silently their mutual apprehension.
Later, when the visitors had retired to their rooms, where Georgiana was moved to tears once more when shown to the suite that had always
been hers, Elizabeth and Jane would spend time together, as they had always done. The sisters shared their hopes and qualms, but just as there were some things, a very few perhaps, that Lizzie would never speak of for fear of hurting Jane, so her sister remained silent on this, her deepest anxiety.
Eager not to betray herself, Jane expressed her concern for Virginia, who had appeared totally unable to restrain her grief at the loss of her father. Throughout the time they had spent in the sitting room, she had sobbed or sat in a state of deep dejection, unable or unwilling to converse with or be comforted by anyone. “Lizzie, I do worry about Virginia,” Jane said. “Amy tells me that she did nothing at all to help her mother prepare for their journey. Amy had to pack her trunk, persuade her to rise, and put on her travelling clothes. Clearly, she has been deeply stricken by Dr Grantley’s death.”
Elizabeth was not quite so tolerant of her niece.
“No more than any of the others or Georgiana herself, surely,” she said. “Yet while Georgiana’s grief is clearly great and understandably so, she must be given credit for managing to organise most of what needed to be done with only some advice from Darcy and some practical help from Frank and Amy. She has spent almost a month completing a number of tasks, many of which would have been painful to her, carrying out Dr Grantley’s wishes in relation to his work and effects, all with little or no help from Virginia, who has been prostrate with grief for most of that time. Now Jane, perhaps I am being a little severe, but I would call such conduct somewhat self-indulgent, wouldn’t you?”
Jane, usually unwilling to criticise anyone too harshly, had on this occasion no alternative but to agree with her sister. It had become clear to both of them and perhaps to others gathered to welcome the Grantleys to Pemberley, that Georgiana’s grief was greatly exacerbated by her daughter’s unremitting mourning. “I suppose, Lizzie, it is not unusual in the youngest child in a family, who has been very close to her parents,” she said, trying to soften her sister’s judgment a little.
Legacy of Pemberley (The Pemberley Chronicles; Pride and Prejudice Sequel Series) Page 14