Legacy of Pemberley (The Pemberley Chronicles; Pride and Prejudice Sequel Series)

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Elizabeth agreed. “Oh indeed, I do not deny that. I understand from Darcy that Virginia helped her father a great deal, reading to him when his eyesight grew weak, finding the passages he needed to quote in his writings, even transcribing some of his papers in her own hand. No one will deny the depth of her affection nor her right to grieve for her father, but, Jane, as we all know to our cost, grief, if indulged to excess, becomes a cruel master, and it is surely not too much to ask that Virginia should also try to assuage her mother’s sorrow, as well as her own.”

  Jane nodded and said sadly, “Indeed you are right, Lizzie, and it is a lesson we, all of us, have to learn well. I hope with all my heart that now that they are at Pemberley, both Georgiana and her daughter will find the strength to master it.”

  Chapter Two

  It was entirely understandable that Georgiana Grantley should experience a heightened degree of nostalgic grief upon entering the suite of rooms that had been hers before she married and where most of her youthful dreams had been spun.

  She did try, however, to explain to her daughter that these rooms had been hers during a time of great happiness, when first under the guardianship of her brother and later as a companion to her sister-in-law, she had developed from a shy, awkward girl into a graceful and amiable young woman. It was then she had learned from her new sister-in-law that life did not always have to be serious and there was plenty of good fun to be had by observing and occasionally putting down certain pompous people. It had been the time also when her awareness of art and music had been lifted from simple enjoyment to genuine appreciation under the loving tutelage of the Continis, making it conceivable that a man of such distinction and learning as Dr Francis Grantley could see in her a future wife. Her response, then, to returning to these maidenly rooms was not surprising. Much more astonishing was the manner in which her daughter Virginia, ignoring everything her mother had said, burst into tears, threw herself on the bed, and sobbed into the pillows, as though she and not Georgiana had been the former occupant of these rooms.

  Too tender-hearted to remonstrate with her daughter and unwilling to appear insensitive to her grief, Georgiana attempted to comfort her, then sank into a chair by the window and, gazing out at the familiar aspect, across the beloved grounds of her childhood home, lapsed into a silence from which she was roused only when her maid arrived to ask if the ladies would bathe before dressing for dinner. Georgiana said yes, but Virginia declined the offer, declaring that she wanted neither a bath nor any dinner.

  “I cannot understand how anyone can even think of dinner!” she cried. “Why, each time I sit down to a meal, I see dear Papa at the head of the table and I know he is no longer there.”

  Her mother suggested gently that at Pemberley it might not be so painful because Mr Darcy would be at the head of the table and there would be other guests, too, like Cassy and Jessica and their husbands. “Besides,” she said gently, “you had hardly any breakfast and nothing to eat on the journey. Do you not think you should at least try to eat something? It may do you some good, my dear.”

  Virginia was adamant. “I cannot,” she declared. “I think always of Papa and should only embarrass Mrs Darcy and her guests if I were to weep at the dinner table. Let me stay here, Mama; you go down and tell them I am too tired from the journey.” Then as an afterthought she added, “Unless Annie could maybe bring me up something on a tray?”

  Georgiana had no alternative but to agree and indicated as much to her maid. She knew Virginia had a partiality for meals served in her room. Soon it would become the topic of conversation among the servants, many of whom had fond memories of her mother but hardly knew Miss Virginia at all. Her present behaviour was unlikely to endear her to them.

  None of the diners seated around the table that evening seemed at all surprised by the non-appearance of Virginia; indeed, they were more interested in her mother’s well-being. Not a very talkative person herself, Georgiana could not completely satisfy either Elizabeth’s or Mr Darcy’s concerns, as she restricted her remarks to brief accounts of their journey from Oxford, including a paean of praise for the kindness of her son Frank and his wife Amy, without whose help she could not have made the journey. She varied these comments with quiet but sincere expressions of gratitude to both her brother and sister-in-law for their advice and generous hospitality.

  “I was, for a while, very confused as to what course of action I should follow. There were all those papers to organise and matters regarding the college to settle; I had little hope of getting it all done before the month was out, when we would have had to vacate the house for the next incumbent. But for your wise counsel and my dear Frank’s excellent planning, I doubt we should have been here tonight. It was very generous of Frank and Amy to leave their children for so many days and come to Oxford to help us move. I wondered at Amy’s being prepared to do so, but she assured me they were well looked after,” she said, to which Elizabeth added gently, “Indeed they were, because Caroline had them and their nurse over at her house in Matlock, where I am quite certain they would have lacked nothing.”

  Georgiana looked somewhat surprised. “Did she? Ah yes,” she said quietly, as though realisation had just dawned upon her. “Caroline, of course, now I come to think of it, I do believe Amy did mention it. That was very kind of Caroline.”

  Cassy, who was at the farther end of the table, safely out of earshot, could not resist remarking to her husband, “I cannot imagine why she is so surprised; they are Caroline’s grandchildren too, after all.”

  Richard nodded but said nothing. An experienced physician, he was more circumspect than his wife; later, when they were back at home in the privacy of their bedroom at Camden House, he was more explicit.

  Cassy could not comprehend how her gentle aunt had seemingly lost touch with the realities of ordinary life. “How is it possible that she could be suddenly so remote, so detached from every other person that she is no longer sensible of their feelings, except where they impinge upon her own?”

  Her husband had an explanation. “Do not be so harsh on her, dearest, it is not unusual after such a loss as Mrs Grantley has suffered to become a little unbalanced,” he said, adding, “Even the most rational amongst us may, in response to the death of a much loved child or spouse, come to regard the rest of the world with a degree of detachment, suspicion even, because they cannot share our pain.”

  Cassy understood, but had her reservations. “But to the extent that it can alter one’s character?”

  “It can indeed, in certain circumstances. Your aunt Mrs Grantley, having lost her father at a very early age, depended wholly upon her brother’s judgment and approval. When she married Dr Grantley, a man much older than herself, being still very young, she clearly transferred that trust and dependence to her husband, whom she loved dearly. Everything she learned thereafter flowed from him, and all her activities in music and her work in the church lay within the framework of their marriage,” he explained.

  “By that do you mean that she had no interests of her own and looked to no other person other than Dr Grantley for her values, seeking only his appreciation?”

  “I do. It is not unreasonable to suppose that, having sought and received his opinion on almost every matter of any consequence and having followed his advice conscientiously for many years, she has lost the capacity to think or feel as others do. It is not that she is selfish or self-centred, but that she is suddenly bereft of the source of all her beliefs and is somewhat confused.”

  Cassy was confused, too, yet Richard had given her a few clues to understanding Georgiana’s situation. “I am not certain Mama will understand; Papa will try because he loves her dearly, but I fear my mother will become impatient with them, particularly if Virginia keeps on with this excessive grieving. She appears to have resolved never to be consoled, and Mama, who is no stranger to such sorrow, will soon find her behaviour tedious, I fear.”

  At that, Richard shook his head. “Now there you have me at a d
isadvantage, my love, for I know nothing of Miss Grantley. I believe I have met her on but two occasions before today and cannot give you any logical explanation for her behaviour, which even for a very young girl would be unusual. In a young woman of her age, it is quite extraordinary. In most of the cases I am acquainted with, the younger women, usually daughters, support and comfort their mothers, not aggravate their woes. I must admit, my love, I am unable to account for Miss Grantley’s behaviour.”

  It was late, and Cassy, knowing he had an important meeting with the hospital board on the following day, pressed him no further on the subject, allowing Richard to think that she was reasonably satisfied with his explanation. She did, however, have grave misgivings about Mrs Grantley, her daughter’s extended stay at Pemberley, and the strains it could place upon her mother.

  As her husband slept, Cassandra was reminded that her brother Julian was not the most patient of men, and she pondered whether the household at Pemberley could possibly accommodate them all without aggravation. She felt for her parents, who had out of generosity invited Mrs Grantley and her daughter to Pemberley, and searched her mind for some way to alleviate the situation. Her own children, except for young James and Laura Ann, were married, and James was presently at boarding school. Cassy wondered whether she should invite the Grantley ladies to stay at Camden House for a while, allowing her parents some respite from their relentless grieving. It was not something she could initiate without her husband’s consent, but even to put the proposal to him, she felt the need to discover a little more about the situation that obtained at Pemberley.

  It was with this proposition in mind that, two days later, Cassandra sent a note to her young sister-in-law Jessica, inviting her to tea the following afternoon. The servant returned with a note accepting the invitation; Cassy was pleased. However, when on the morrow, Jessica arrived at Camden House, it was with news that brought no pleasure at all.

  Even as she alighted from the vehicle that had conveyed her, baby Marianne, and her nurse, Cassandra could see that all was not well. Jessica’s countenance was strained and pale. Cassy went to her at once.

  “Jessie dear, you look so distressed. What has happened?” she asked.

  Clearly Jessica did not wish to say anything in front of Nurse Matthews and the servants, but indicated she would do so later. Cassy took them indoors and arranged straight away for the nurse and her young charge to be shown into the playroom, a light, airy room opening onto a small walled garden, where Cassy’s own children had played.

  “I hope you will be comfortable here, Nurse Matthews, I shall have some refreshments sent in to you,” she said, and having given the necessary instructions, she then urged Jessica to take tea with her in the intimate private sitting room upstairs, where they would be able to speak freely. Cassy could not imagine what had happened in so short a time to so upset Jessica. At first, she seemed unwilling to talk about it. She took some tea and cake and partook of it slowly, while Cassy restrained her avid curiosity, unwilling to place any further strain upon her young sister-in-law, who looked almost unwell. When after several minutes, silence, Jessica finally put down her cup and saucer, she looked directly at Cassandra and said, “Oh Cassy, I haven’t even thanked you for asking me; I was so pleased to come away from Pemberley today. Julian is gone to Derby for the day, and Mrs Darcy is so anxious, she has not come downstairs at all. Mrs Grantley keeps to her room, and the household is in complete confusion.”

  Cassandra could not believe her ears. She had been prepared for reports of some aggravation resulting from the strain of having Georgiana and her daughter to stay, but that the usually well-run household at Pemberley had been confounded? She could not credit it.

  “But why, Jessica? What has happened to bring about this disruption? Surely you are not going to tell me that Mrs Grantley and Virginia are the cause of this situation?”

  Jessica looked distinctly uncomfortable as she shook her head. “Not Mrs Grantley, no, she has been quiet and amenable, and everyone feels for her. She is still grieving for Dr Grantley, and we understand that, but Virginia is impossible,” she said, and her voice broke under the strain of her feelings, and her eyes filled with tears.

  “In what way, Jessie? I know she was being tiresome and demanding the other day, but since then, has her behaviour not improved at all?”

  “Indeed it has not,” cried Jessica, who then blurted out a tale that left Cassandra incredulous.

  The day after their arrival at Pemberley, both ladies had been expected to sleep later than usual, being tired from their journey. The housekeeper, on Mrs Darcy’s instructions, had arranged for their breakfast to be taken up to their suite. The maids had reported that Mrs Grantley had been awake and dressed when they took it in, while Miss Virginia had been asleep and had expressed her annoyance at being disturbed in no uncertain terms. Later, Georgiana had come downstairs, and Jessica had seen her in conversation with Mr and Mrs Darcy on the terrace and walking about the west lawn with them.

  “It appeared to be an animated conversation, and I assumed they were all talking about the new work that Mr Darcy had had done in the lower meadow and beside the lake. I could not hear what they were saying, being on the floor above, but it seemed as though her brother was explaining something to her, and she appeared to be listening quite intently. At least I could see that there was some progress from her state of the previous night.”

  “And Virginia? Where was she?” asked Cassy.

  “She never left her room. Indeed, I think the maids claim that she hardly left her bed, all day long—the chamber maid had complained that she had been given no opportunity to make up the bed, and Virginia had protested when she drew back the curtains,” replied Jessica.

  Cassandra was exasperated. “What is wrong with her, Jessica? Does she not understand that her behaviour must cause aggravation and hurt to the rest of the family, including her own mother?”

  Jessica shrugged her shoulders. “I honestly do not believe that Virginia cares at all whom she hurts and what trouble she causes. She is, I think, a wholly selfish person, and says and does just whatever she pleases at the time, regardless of the consequences,” she replied.

  “And today? How has she been this morning? Has there been no change in her conduct and disposition?” asked Cassy.

  Jessica laughed a rather false laugh, which did not convince Cassandra that what she was about to hear was going to amuse her. “Her behaviour has certainly changed today; when the maid took her tea up to her room, her bed was empty and Virginia was gone!”

  Cassy gasped, “Gone where?”

  “Well, for a couple of hours, nobody knew,” replied Jessica. “You can well imagine what alarm this caused. Mrs Grantley was distraught, and poor Mr Darcy, he looked as if all the cares of the world had descended upon him.”

  Recalling the strange circumstances of Miranda Gardiner’s disappearance and elopement, Cassy asked, “Where was she found?”

  “She was not found,” Jessica replied. “She just walked in some two or three hours later, as though nothing had happened, and when Julian, who saw her arrive, asked where she had been, Virginia asked him to mind his own business. She said she had been walking out in the woods and apparently did not think to tell anyone where she was going. She had risen early before the rest of the household was about and slipped out down the side stairs leading to the rose garden,” Jessica explained.

  “Did none of the servants see her go?” asked Cassy.

  “It turns out that two of the men working in the grounds did see a lady out walking quite early in the morning, but not knowing who she was, they said nothing about it to anyone,” said Jessica, adding, “But, Cassy, after all this, when Julian and later Mrs Darcy pointed out the dangers of wandering around the woods, which are unfamiliar to her, she argued with them both and told Julian that since he was never to be the Master of Pemberley, he had no right to question her actions. Julian is furious!” said Jessica.

  “I am not surprised.
I should be as well. Did not Mama say anything to her?” Cassy asked.

  “Oh yes, she did, and Mr Darcy, coming in, overheard the argument and stepped in to explain that it was a house rule at Pemberley that no one—whether they were a guest or a member of the household—was to wander away from the house without leaving word with a member of the staff, in case there was an accident. He warned her that the woods were not safe, times were hard, there could be poachers and other unsavoury characters about, and an unwary person with no knowledge of the district could be in grave danger if he or she was alone. He sounded very stern,” said Jessica.

  “And did Virginia appear chastened?” asked Cassy, with a smile.

  “Not at all,” replied Jessica. “Indeed, when her mother protested that she had been worried, she shrugged it all off as an unnecessary fuss and declared that she would prefer to go to her sister Anne in Hampshire or her brother Frank at the rectory in Kympton rather than live under such unreasonable rules at Pemberley.”

  Cassandra’s smile disappeared; her concern was for young Amy Grantley.

  “God forbid, poor Amy, what on earth will she do with Virginia at the rectory? The house is scarcely large enough for their little family, and they have few servants. Virginia will set the place at sixes and sevens.”

  “I think Mrs Darcy has already made that plain and her mother has advised against it, but it appears Virginia is quite determined and plans to move this very afternoon to her brother’s house. When I left, she had retired to her room to pack her things,” said Jessica, and as her sister-in-law put her arm around her, she sighed, “Oh Cassy, I cannot believe that in the space of two days, our happy lives have been so severely disrupted and everyone is heartily tired of Miss Virginia Grantley. I should not be surprised if Mrs Darcy already regrets having invited them to Pemberley.”