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

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  When she said nothing at first, Mr Jennings seemed to realise that she had been surprised by his approach and waited a while before saying, “I understand that you may need some time to consider my proposal, perhaps to consult your family, which is why I have arranged to remain in the district until Tuesday afternoon. With your permission, I will call on you again on Tuesday morning…”

  At this moment, Caroline realised that she had to speak now. It was impossible to let him leave and return in two days’ time for her answer. With great discipline, she spoke quickly, but not so fast as to give offence. “No, Mr Jennings, that will not be necessary,” she said, and her heart sank as she saw relief and some satisfaction reflected in his expression. Clearly, he expected her to accept him. She went on, nevertheless. “Acknowledging the time and thought that must surely have been expended upon your decision to make such an offer, I would not wish to prolong the uncertainty; indeed I am very conscious of the sincere concern and solicitude that have motivated you and I thank you for it. However, I must say with regret that I am unable to accept your kind offer, not because I have any doubts about your character or the sincerity of your sentiments, but because, Mr Jennings, as anyone who knows me will tell you, I have not the slightest desire to marry again.”

  The look of complete disbelief that crossed his face surprised her. It seemed he doubted her word; it was as though he thought she was waiting to be convinced and was preparing to launch into another justification for his proposal and the wisdom of accepting it.

  Before he could begin, Caroline decided that more candour was called for. “Mr Jennings, as you have stated, our families have a long association and we have known one another for many years. Yet, I doubt there has ever been an occasion on which you could have supposed that I was the sort of wife you would have chosen for yourself, nor have I ever imagined that I would have been happy with you for a husband.”

  Seeing the astonishment reflected on his face, she added quickly, “This is no criticism of you; you are a good man and one of the most reliable I have known, and I have often enjoyed your company. But, having been so happily married to my dear husband for so many years, I should never want to risk losing that sense of perfect contentment by entering into any other association, however advantageous it may promise to be.”

  Caroline continued, “Besides, as you know, I have set in train certain plans for my own life, which will not fit comfortably with marriage to anyone. I shall be far too busy with other things, including the purchase and running of Arrowfield House.”

  Clearly crestfallen, Mr Jennings could not conceal his disappointment but accepted her explanation with dignity and, to Caroline’s immense relief, left soon afterwards. Before he entered his vehicle, he turned around and said, “In view of your decision, I think I shall return to Derby tomorrow afternoon. Should you wish to make any amendments to the document, please do send me word to the Matlock Arms.”

  Caroline thanked him again for his work, closed the door, and went upstairs to her room. The effort of maintaining her composure had left her exhausted. She would never know for certain what had prompted Mr Jennings to make his offer. It was improbable that it was based on mercenary motives alone, though he did know her financial situation well, but neither could she credit him with any depth of feeling for her, so dry and passionless had been his performance.

  That he should think she, after being married to her beloved Fitzy for almost a lifetime, would within a few months of his death consider marriage to his attorney, who had decided they could be “excellent companions,” had affronted and dispirited her. She had neither the inclination nor the energy to do anything more than fall into bed.

  Since her husband’s death, Caroline had moved from the large bedroom they had shared for all the years of their marriage to a smaller room, which looked out across the grounds to the river. It was pretty, cosy, and held no memories for her, having once been Isabella’s room. Lying on the narrow bed, Caroline wept, and this time, there was no Rachel to comfort her.

  A romantic at heart, she had been teased often by family and friends for her inclination towards sentiment; yet with a husband who loved her dearly, Caroline had sublimated her youthful romanticism in a passionate marriage that had brought them both great happiness and contentment. Like her cousin Lizzie, she had vowed never to marry without the deepest love and had found Mr Jennings’s proposition to her to make a second marriage based chiefly upon convenience quite abhorrent. It was all she could do not to shudder with distaste as he spoke. It had raked up the sources of her grief, and she wept alone.

  It was late evening and quite dark in the room, when her maid came to call her and prepare her bath. She remembered to ask Sarah if she was feeling better; the girl had been upset by a teasing remark from one of the grooms concerning her appearance. She was young and volatile, and had not quite recovered her composure. Catherine comforted her and assured her that there had been no harm meant, promising to speak sternly to the young man on the morrow.

  Afterwards, she sent the maid away and returned to bed, claiming she had a headache and would need no dinner. Sarah persuaded her to take a cup of hot chocolate—it had been her husband’s favourite cure for insomnia, and it always worked. She fell into a deep sleep but awoke earlier than usual. The sun had not risen, nor had the birds, but Caroline, clear-headed and in better spirits, rose and wrote to Anna Bingley.

  My dearest Anna, she wrote:

  I trust this finds you, Jonathan, and the children well and happy. It must be such a delight to have them with you. Mine are gone now to make their own lives; even Rachel, the last of the fledglings, has her own nest.

  Daniel and Rachel are back from their honeymoon at Lizzie’s farm on the Albury Downs, where they claim the servants had strict instructions to spoil them. They are now in residence at Riversleigh.

  Mr Darcy was as good as his word and had the rectory completely refurbished for them, even to new plumbing and heating. It is very comfortable now. It is a special joy for me to see my Rachel, who I once believed had forsworn matrimony altogether, so much in love and contentedly married.

  As for your dear brother Daniel, he makes no effort to conceal his deep affection for her, and he seems to have taken very well to being the rector of Riversleigh. I attended church there on Sunday and was most impressed with his fine voice and excellent sermon. Judging from the faces of his parishioners, they were too.

  Anna my dear, I write also to acquaint you and Jonathan with my plans for the property at Arrowfield, which I have decided to purchase and refurbish as a place of refuge for widowed and deserted women and their children.

  My children are all agreed that it is a worthy cause on which to spend their father’s annuity, and I know he would approve absolutely of our project.

  Amy and Rachel will assist me (with the blessing of their husbands, naturally) in running the place, and I hope we will take in our first guests very soon.

  When you are next in Derbyshire, I look forward to showing you and Jonathan how we are getting on…

  Concluding her letter with the usual felicitations, Caroline rose, and hearing the chorus of birds starting up in the orchard, she went to the window, drew back the curtains, and looked out upon the sun rising on a new day.

  * * *

  Later that morning, having breakfasted and taken her usual walk around the garden, Caroline decided that she would go to Riversleigh and visit Rachel and Daniel. Since rising that morning, she had felt an overwhelming desire to see her daughter, enfold her in her arms, and be sure in her heart that she was truly happy. She had tried to tell herself that it was only a silly response to the extraordinary behaviour of Mr Jennings, which had so unsettled her, but it would not do. She had to go.

  Sending for the steward, she asked for the carriage to be brought round, went upstairs to get her wrap and bonnet, and informed the housekeeper that she would be back in time for dinner.

  It was almost midday when she reached the rectory at Riverslei
gh, having used the longer route through the village and over the bridge. Approaching the church, Caroline could see both Daniel and Rachel in the garden, and they came to greet her as she alighted from the vehicle. It was quite clear that they were delighted not only to see her, but had also some further cause for satisfaction, which they were keen to communicate to her. Caroline was aware of this as they embraced her most affectionately, before ushering her indoors with some haste.

  Once they were within, Rachel was quick to reveal that they had just been preparing to set out to visit her mother, to bring her some wonderful news. Caroline could not imagine what this could be, and was about to ask, when Daniel Faulkner, taking out a letter from the inside pocket of his coat, handed it to her, saying, “That letter had arrived for me a few days before we returned from Woodlands; it comes from Victoria, from the father of my late wife. He writes that my son, Martin, who is now almost seventeen years old, has been awarded a scholarship to study at a college in Scotland. He will be embarking onboard a vessel; indeed, he should be on his way already, which will bring him to England early in the Spring.”

  Caroline could scarcely believe it. “That is wonderful news! Daniel, you must be delighted!” she cried, and he replied, unable to contain the emotion in his voice, “Indeed I am, we both are. It is almost two years since I last saw my son, and when I decided to settle in England, my one regret was that I may not have the opportunity to see him for an even longer period. This letter has changed all that and brought us such joy; we have spoken of little else since receiving the news.”

  “I can well believe it, and I am delighted too, for your sake and for your son. It must be a most valuable opportunity for him. Do you know at which college he is to study?” Caroline asked and was told that it was at a very prestigious college in Edinburgh.

  “I am assured that it is an excellent institution with a fine academic reputation; Martin is very fortunate indeed,” said Daniel.

  Tea had been brought in, and Rachel, handing her mother a cup, said quietly, “We do have one little problem, Mama, we were wondering how we might accommodate Martin during his vacations, because there is but one tiny spare room here and…” at which Caroline put down her cup and declared, “But, Rachel my dear, surely that is not a problem; young Martin can stay with me; he can have David’s room, which has been empty since your brother moved to Manchester.” And seeing the surprise on Daniel Faulkner’s face, she added quickly, “That is, if you have no objection, Daniel, I should be perfectly happy to have him to stay when he is home from college, and of course you can visit each other whenever you wish.”

  Both Daniel and Rachel could not contain their pleasure at this offer, and once they had assured themselves that it would not inconvenience her in any way, they embraced Caroline and thanked her for her generosity.

  Caroline was quick to assure them that she would look forward to having young Martin Faulkner to stay. The arrival of a parishioner sent Daniel to the front door, leaving mother and daughter alone, and affording Rachel the opportunity to ask, “Are you quite sure, Mama? After all, Martin will be a complete stranger…” but Caroline would have none of it.

  “Of course I am sure, what’s more, I cannot imagine anything better for my James, who will also be home on holidays, than a young man, just a few years older than he is, who can tell him all about the great colonies on the other side of the world and that long sea voyage. It will be quite wonderful, and they will be excellent company for each other.”

  She did not add that her own heart had leapt at the thought of a young boy, a few years older than her own Edward had been when she had lost him, living in her home. If Martin was anything like his father, Caroline was confident that they would get on very well indeed, and perhaps, her solitary life might be enlivened from time to time by his bright presence.

  Looking out of the parlour window, they saw Daniel walking around to the vestry with his visitor, and Caroline, seeing the expression on her daughter’s face, said, “Besides, my darling, Daniel and you need to spend time on your own; I can see he is going to be busy in the parish, but he loves you dearly, and I want you to be very happy together.”

  Rachel put her arms around her mother and said quietly, “Thank you, Mama; I am quite sure we will; indeed, I must confess I have never been happier in my life. There, are you content?” she asked, and Caroline smiled and said, “I am, perfectly content.”

  End of Part Two

  The Legacy of Pemberley

  Part Three

  The Inheritance

  Chapter One

  It was the week after Laura Ann Gardiner’s birthday. She was nineteen and quite beautiful, but because of a childhood tendency to suffer from respiratory disorders, her beauty was of a rather fragile kind, making her appear much younger than her years. She was a great favourite in the family on account of her gentle nature and engaging disposition, which was probably why her grandparents, Mr and Mrs Darcy, had insisted that her birthday would be celebrated with a rare event: a ball at Pemberley.

  No one had any doubt that this was a tribute to his granddaughter, because the Master of Pemberley was not fond of dancing. Despite this, Mrs Darcy and he had hosted the celebrations with great style, to the satisfaction of a large party of family and friends. Laura Ann’s happiness had been almost inexpressible, and the Darcys were well pleased.

  Sadly missing from the occasion had been Mr and Mrs Bingley on account of Mr Bingley’s continuing indisposition. Indeed, plans were afoot for them to travel to southern France and Italy in the Autumn, where they would remain until the following Spring. Mrs Darcy, whose affection for her sister Jane would not let her consider such a long separation with any degree of equanimity, had spent much of the previous month attempting to persuade her husband that he too could benefit from such a vacation, and in this she had been supported by her daughter and son-in-law.

  While Mr Darcy had insisted that he was in perfectly good health and had no need of such an excursion, Doctor Richard Gardiner, who had recently attended upon both Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy, was convinced that time away from Pemberley, in a climate as salubrious as was proposed by the Bingleys and in such unarguably congenial company, could only improve his health and would afford Mrs Darcy an opportunity to avail herself of the benefits, too. He had not as yet suggested this to his father-in-law, but had made the point to his wife.

  A casual observation from Cassandra that her mother was looking rather weary after the exertion and excitement of Laura Ann’s birthday ball brought an immediate response from Mr Darcy. Looking across at his wife, who for once was disinclined to contradict her daughter’s remarks on her health, he asked, “Is this true, my dear?” to which Elizabeth replied with some care, “Oh I think Cassy is making much of a very little matter; I did mention that I had been lacking in energy of late, and Jenny has been preparing a herbal tonic for me, which I have to say is not the pleasantest potion I have taken, but she assures me it will do me good…”

  Her husband interrupted her, clearly concerned. “Lizzie, why have you not spoken of this condition before? Does Richard know of this?” he asked.

  As Richard and Cassy exchanged glances, Elizabeth, seeing an opportunity, decided to take advantage of it. “No, I did not think it sufficiently serious to trouble Richard with it,” she began, “it is not a constant condition, it is intermittent…”

  “But persistent?” Mr Darcy probed, as though he and not Richard were the physician.

  “Yes, but it is not as though I am in pain. It is only a general feeling of malaise, as though I had become overtired…” Elizabeth explained.

  “Which you probably have, Mama,” said Cassy, butting in, as she began to comprehend the drift of the conversation, “indeed I have noticed that you seemed paler and more fatigued than usual after Laura Ann’s birthday celebrations.”

  Elizabeth made as though to dismiss her concerns, but Darcy would have none of it. Turning to his son-in-law, he demanded to know if his wife’s condition wa
s serious, to which Richard replied, “It is not at the moment, sir. I would say that Mrs Darcy has become rather exhausted over the Summer. She has been very busy, and it has been an unusually warm season. However, if nothing is done to ameliorate it, the condition could worsen as Winter approaches, and she could be stricken down with influenza or bronchitis, but a good long rest, a change of scene, sunshine, good company, and some wholesome, nourishing food would quickly see her recover her natural energy.”

  It took Mr Darcy only a few minutes to decide that what he had been resisting on his own behalf was absolutely imperative to the restoration of his wife’s health. “As you know, Richard, Charles and Jane Bingley leave for Europe next week. Bingley has leased a villa in the south of Italy where they will spend the Winter, and he has on more than one occasion invited us to join them. Would it help Mrs Darcy, too? Would you recommend it?” he asked.

  Cassy smiled as her husband nodded, endorsing the idea wholeheartedly. “Without any reservation, sir; it would be the very thing, since it would provide all those essential ingredients I have just mentioned. In the company of Mr and Mrs Bingley, you would enjoy the benefits of travelling overseas without any of the aggravation of being with a party of strangers. I would say it is the ideal opportunity, sir,” he concluded, and Cassy could not help noting the expression on her mother’s face.

  Mr Darcy’s mind was made up. “Thank you, Richard, I will send a note to Bingley this afternoon, and Lizzie, my dear, we can begin preparations for the journey right away,” he said.

  Richard had one more suggestion, calculated to set the seal upon his father-in-law’s decision. “I am expected at Ashford Park this afternoon, sir; I can take the note and bring you a response directly,” he said, and while Darcy rose and went to his study, Cassy and her mother embraced.