Of all their family, in the past only Mr and Mrs Darcy and her grandfather Mr Gardiner had spent any time studying the collection and listening to the remarkable tales that the colonel could tell about his time in India and Ceylon. Some ladies had gazed with envy at the gemstones—rubies, sapphires, and tourmalines—while others had exclaimed at the intricacy of the carvings and statues, but none had evinced more than an ephemeral interest. Only Rachel, growing up in the days when her father, having retired from politics, had time to spend at home, had wanted to know more about every piece in his glass-fronted cabinet, and he had enjoyed taking them out and answering her questions, telling her stories about each one, their history and provenance.
Now, here was Daniel Faulkner, who quite by chance had heard the story of Shiva, the Hindu god, from a traveller in Victoria, and when he mentioned it, Rachel had revealed that there was a small brass statue of Shiva in her father’s collection. His curiosity, once aroused, had to be satisfied; hence the invitation to tea that morning.
Rachel had picked out a few pieces that she thought might be of particular interest to him. Among them, the statue of the god Shiva, a few exquisitely painted miniatures, which had been highly prized by her father, and a tiny set of chess pieces, each intricately carved in creamy white ivory and polished ebony. She knew Daniel played chess and had taken them out especially to let him appreciate the perfection of their detail and balance. She was right. He was fascinated, as much by her knowledge as she explained the provenance and significance of each item, as he was by the artifacts themselves. Many were old and valuable, and he held them almost reverently, handing them back with great care.
“This must be very old indeed,” he said, holding the dancing god Shiva in his hands, as she related the story of the great Lord of the Dance, Creator, Preserver, and Destroyer of the Universe, just as her father had told it.
Daniel seemed entranced by the tale and the beautiful statue he held. When he handed it back to her, he said in a very quiet, serious voice, “It is truly remarkable, their belief in a kind of primordial trinity of creation, preservation, and destruction all embodied in the one god. Not very different to our doctrine of the Holy Trinity, is it?”
Rachel was struck by the expression on his face; she had seen it once before as he stood in the old church at Riversleigh, when he first saw the carved marble altarpiece. “I must admit I had not thought of it that way, but you are right, it is a similar concept and yet theirs is a very ancient faith,” she said.
“Indeed it is, but that is what makes it even more significant,” he said, then setting down a piece he had just picked up, he asked, “Rachel, I should like very much to see the altar at Riversleigh again. I wish to make a sketch of the carved panel. Would you mind accompanying me there, one more time, perhaps on Wednesday?”
She was surprised but did not let him see it. “Of course not, I should be happy to go with you,” she replied. “I love the old church and am very sorry it has been closed up for so long without an incumbent. Papa used to say it is the prettiest parish on the Pemberley estate, situated as it is between the mountains and the lake,” and when he smiled and thanked her, she knew he was pleased she had agreed to go.
As she put the pieces back in the cabinet, he watched her, and when she had finished and they were leaving the room, she asked, apropos of nothing at all, “Daniel, when do you return to Australia?”
His reply astonished her. “I was to have sailed at the end of this week; indeed I should have been back in London by now, but I have delayed my departure. There are some matters I must attend to, and I have also had a letter from my sister Anna to say that my father is unwell. She urges me to visit him again before I leave England.”
“And if you miss your ship, does that mean you will have to wait awhile for another?” she asked, almost too eagerly, but unable to conceal her keenness to know.
He nodded, but did not appear too concerned at the prospect of an extended delay. “I do; unless I apply almost immediately for another berth, I may not get on a ship that will take me there before Christmas, and who wants to spend Christmas on board a ship on the southern ocean?”
“Will it be very cold and wet?” she asked, and he laughed that very agreeable laugh again and said, “Oh no, quite the contrary, it will be dreadfully hot; it will be Summer in the southern hemisphere, remember?”
Rachel looked appalled. “A hot Christmas? Oh no! I cannot imagine it,” she cried, and he smiled and said, “That was exactly what I said the first time I stood in the hotel at Ballarat on Christmas Day, drinking cold ale and eating my hot dinner, with a merciless sun beating down outside. I hated it.”
“Then, do you mean to spend Christmas in England this year?” she asked as they went out into the hall, and when he replied, “I do not appear to have any alternative,” Rachel smiled, but said nothing. She did not trust herself to speak or look up at him, lest she betray her pleasure at the news.
Caroline, coming downstairs, saw them together smiling, happy, quite unaware of her, and could not hold back her tears. She went into the kitchen to give instructions to the cook and came out again, blowing her nose, pretending it was the pepper in the air. When she returned to the parlour, she found them talking about a place in Victoria called Eureka; Daniel was telling Rachel of the political struggle which had taken place there, involving a group of gold miners led by an Irishman called Peter Lalor.
It had started to rain heavily, and Caroline asked Daniel if he would take a light luncheon with them, which he accepted with obvious pleasure, before resuming his story. “There was considerable discontent among the miners and their families, who felt they were being oppressed both by the government, which levied licence fees on miners whether or not they found any gold on their claims, and by the militia, who were sent to enforce the licensing laws. Some of them were corrupt, and this made for even more vexation. To make matters infinitely worse, a miner was murdered, supposedly by a hotelier, and when the man was charged and acquitted, there was outrage and widespread rioting.”
“Did not the militia do anything about it?” asked Rachel.
“Oh they did, all the wrong things,” Daniel replied. “They bullied and badgered the miners, who then burnt down the hotel!”
Rachel listened, utterly absorbed, and soon Caroline’s interest was captured too, for the history of the Eureka Stockade seemed to her to run a very close parallel to what had happened in Manchester at Petersfield in 1819, when she was but a girl. She had vivid memories of Colonel Fitzwilliam relating shocking accounts of the killing of ordinary people by the cavalry, a blunder that was soon ironically dubbed “The Peterloo Massacre.”
It was all she could do to keep silent as Daniel described how the miners had formed the Ballarat Reform League to demand the abolition of the oppressive administration and its punitive taxes on the goldfields, as well as full and fair representation by universal suffrage.
Daniel told the story well. “The governor and his officials panicked when the miners began to build a stockade at this place called Eureka, where they had hoisted a rebel flag. Not the Union flag, but a great blue flag emblazoned with the stars of the Southern Cross. It was a beautiful sight, but to the governor, it spelt only treason. Well, inevitably, he called for reinforcements, and just before dawn, they attacked the stockade. The miners were hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned; many were killed by the troopers and many more injured in a stupid attack that lasted less than half an hour! It was outrageous and wholly unnecessary, and it changed my mind about how I wanted to live.”
“Did you leave the goldfields after that?” Rachel asked.
“I did, but not immediately,” he said. “I had to stay and help the only chaplain comfort the families who’d lost fathers and sons at the stockade. They were absolutely bereft and had no one to turn to for help. And of course, at the time, I was engaged to a young lady in Ballarat. So I stayed on for a while and made my plans.”
“What happened to the men who led
the rebellion?” asked Caroline, almost afraid to ask, and to her great surprise, Daniel smiled and said, “They were charged, but they were all acquitted, and a year later their leader Peter Lalor was appointed to the Parliament.”
“So at least their struggle was not in vain?” Rachel asked tentatively.
“No indeed, I am quite certain it will in the future be regarded as an historic stand for freedom in the colony,” Daniel replied.
Both Rachel and Caroline, whose knowledge of the far country was understandably minimal, had been struck by the passion with which he had spoken. It was, to them, a clear indication of his attachment to the colony, and they did not doubt that he intended to return there.
Later, once Daniel had left, Caroline, looking out of her bedroom window, saw Rachel walking across the grounds towards the river. It was where she always went when she wanted to be alone. She had said nothing to her mother, and to Caroline that was proof enough that she was going to lose her. She could not know if Daniel had said anything to Rachel or if he knew how she felt, but Caroline knew in her heart what it would mean to her. Without Rachel, her life would be lonely indeed, yet she wished only for her daughter to find the kind of happiness she had enjoyed in many years of marriage to her beloved colonel.
* * *
On Wednesday, Rachel, having told her mother of her errand to Riversleigh, made her way down to the lake, where she had arranged to meet Daniel, who would come direct from Pemberley. He had told her he had an appointment to see Mr Darcy that morning, but had said nothing of the reason for their meeting, and she had not asked either.
As she waited for him to arrive, it was hard to ignore the beauty around her, with the sun bright on the water and glinting off the windows of the old church. It was a scene she could quite easily contemplate for hours. But she forced herself to think of the question that had troubled her all week, the question she did not wish to think about. It had not impinged upon her significantly until a few days ago when she had sensed Daniel’s interest for the first time.
She was not yet certain that it was anything deeper than a friendly concern, but if it was, if he did care enough for her to want to marry her, she faced the possibility that she would have to leave her home, her family, and travel across the world to a country of which she knew nothing. It was a daunting prospect; Rachel had never left her parents’ home before, nor wanted to, and yet, she had to admit that never before had there been anyone who had given her a good reason for doing so.
She had occasionally known the kind of feelings every young woman has, for young men she had met in her parents’ circle of acquaintances; some had shown an interest in her; they had mostly been the sons of local businessmen or politicians, but none had aroused in her even the smallest desire to change her very comfortable life for the dull domesticity that marriage to them offered. Growing up in a home with parents whose values were wholly divergent from the grasping materialism of many of the people around them, she had not found it easy to make friends, let alone consider marriage to one of them.
Yet, with Daniel Faulkner, it had been completely different. From the very first occasion on which they had met and spoken, she had been impressed by his openness, his complete lack of condescension, his genuine interest in her questions, which he always answered quite seriously. Rachel had been surprised and touched.
Her own feelings for him, springing from these simple roots, had seemed to flourish in the fertile ground of their continuing friendship, but without any promise of deepening, until their visit to the church at Riversleigh. On that day she had realised the feelings Daniel had aroused in her were like nothing she had known before.
That morning, dressing in front of her mirror, Rachel had looked at herself critically, examining her slender figure and delicate face, frowning at herself, trying to pierce the surface calm of her features and reach into the place where those new feelings had begun. She dressed with care, choosing a simple blue gown and a white hat with blue ribbons that shaded her face. The colours suited her well; she hoped Daniel would like them.
While she had no indication of his intentions, she wished very much to be certain of her own. Rachel, by nature a cautious young woman, needed to know if what she felt was deep enough to outlast the toil and tribulation that would inevitably follow, should they sail off to Australia. She wondered how she would know and was afraid that if she did not know and made the wrong decision, catastrophe would follow; for what would one do with an unhappy marriage if one was twelve thousand miles from home? It was a cruel conundrum, and despite the brilliance of the day, she frowned again as she pondered the prospect and worried lest she was mistaken and it should all come to naught.
Sudden footsteps pulled her back to the present, and turning round, she saw Daniel standing there with such a pleasing smile on his face as to remove instantly all her concerns and fears. She could not possibly be unhappy with him, she thought in that instant.
“Rachel, on such a glorious morning as this, whatever makes you frown so?” he asked in an accusing voice and then suddenly, anxious that she may have been troubled by some quite legitimate concern, added, “I am sorry; has there been some bad news?”
She shook her head and smiled, rising from the bench on which she had been seated to face him, before saying, “No worse than we heard two days ago. Virginia and Mr Fraser are to marry at Pemberley and leave almost at once for London and thence to New South Wales. Her mother is deeply distressed and believes she will not see her daughter again ever.”
“I can understand her concern,” he said, “but if I were Mrs Grantley that would be the least of my worries. I am astonished that Mrs Grantley is not more concerned about the character of her prospective son-in-law.” Then, seeing her frown deepen, he held out his hand to her and said, “But come, Rachel, let us not waste any more time on matters that are outside our control. I have keys to the church and the rectory as well today, so we have much to see.” And she took his hand as though it was the most natural thing to do.
When they got across the stream, more easily this time than before, and reached the church, he opened the door, and as they stepped within, she said, pointing to her satchel, “I did bring my sketchbook and pencils; will you do it or shall I?”
He looked at her and said, “I am sure you would do it much better than I could, but there is no hurry to do it today.”
“No? Is that because you are not going until after Christmas?” she asked.
“Hmmm.”
His answer didn’t help much, and she was unsure what she should do. He did not immediately move to go and look at the carvings as she had expected him to. Instead, he stood just inside the door in the cool interior of the church and asked, “Have you seen inside the rectory?”
Rachel was surprised but answered casually, “Not recently; the last rector was ill for quite some time.”
“Shall we take a look then?” he asked, taking the keys out of his pocket.
She nodded, and they went around the church and through a somewhat overgrown cottage garden to the front door, for which he produced the key.
As they stepped inside the door, it was obvious the place had been cleaned and aired. Rachel was puzzled; she couldn’t think who could have done it or for what reason. There had been nothing said about a new incumbent. The house was built of the same stone as the church, but clearly of a more recent construction. The hall was wide and light, with a parlour to the left and a dining room to the right, looking out into the orchard, while the kitchen at the back of the house looked towards the weir. Upstairs, they found a large bedroom with windows overlooking the water and a much smaller room, which may have been a nursery, admitting plenty of light and the soothing sound of running water.
They had been through the rooms, making few comments, and had reached the hallway again, when Daniel stopped, turned to her, and asked, “What do you think, Rachel? Do you like it?”
A little flustered by the unexpected question, Rachel stopped and took a mom
ent to compose her thoughts before saying, “It’s rather small, but it is so prettily situated…” but he did not let her continue, breaking in to say, “Forgive me, Rachel, I have given you no intimation at all of this, only because there were practical reasons why I could not do so until today, so I shall not complain if you refuse to give me an immediate answer. But if I were to tell you how much I respect and admire you and how dearly I have come to love you, will you marry me?”
Considering that she had recently spent a good deal of time pondering how she would respond to just such a proposition, Rachel was surprised to find that she was literally at a loss for words. She could only think of all the ridiculous heroines in “penny dreadfuls” who, faced with a similar proposal, invariably cried, “But, sir, this is so sudden,” and at that moment, Rachel sympathised with them all.
Misunderstanding her silence for discomposure, he asked softly, “Have I been too presumptuous in asking, in assuming that you might have some similar feelings for me? If that be the case, please let me apologise; perhaps I should not have spoken today, maybe it was too soon… or maybe I should have applied to your mother first? Rachel, my dear, I am so sorry if I have offended you.”
At this point, realising that he had misconstrued her silence, she suddenly found her voice and said, “No, no, please don’t apologise… I am not offended at all; quite the contrary. Indeed, I am sorry to have been so awkward; I hadn’t expected you to…”
As she struggled to find words to answer him, he took her hand. “Of course, I understand, you need time to think about it?”
This time her answer came very quickly. “No, I do not, but I do have a problem.”
“A problem?” he asked gravely. She nodded without looking at him, concentrating her eyes upon a brass door knob, and then she heard him say, “Is it because I was married before and have a son? I can appreciate your concern, but let me assure you…”
Legacy of Pemberley (The Pemberley Chronicles; Pride and Prejudice Sequel Series) Page 26