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

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  “But I expect we shall only be gone for some months, and I shall write, of course,” Lizzie said, trying to console her, but Laura remained disconsolate.

  “I had hoped very much that you would be here, so I could see you more often. When do you expect to travel?”

  “Oh, it will not be until after the baby is born, and then we shall have to wait for good weather. Mr Carr will not have us travel with the children if the seas are too rough,” Lizzie explained.

  Her sister seemed to brighten up immediately. “Oh, that will not be so bad then; I thought you would be gone before Christmas!”

  “Oh no, I would not wish to have my baby born anywhere else; besides, Mama would not permit it,” Lizzie said and then asked, “Where is Mama today?”

  “Calling on our new neighbours, the O’Connors,” said Laura Ann, and when her sister heard of the new neighbours at Willowdale Farm, she wanted to know everything about them.

  “I did hear that the old place had been taken, but no one seemed to know the family at all. Who are they and what are they like?” Lizzie asked.

  Laura tried to sound casual as she responded to the questions. “They’re an interesting family. Mrs O’Connor is a widow; she was an actress once, in Dublin many years ago, and still retains some of that dramatic style in her speech and gestures, which is rather funny.”

  “And has she any children?”

  “She has three, and two of them are grown up. There’s Marguerite, who must be at least seventeen—she’s very elegant; little Elvira is nine and very sweet, and then there’s Thomas.”

  “Thomas,” Lizzie repeated the name, then asked, “And how old is Thomas?”

  At this seemingly innocuous question, Laura Ann became rather tongue-tied before saying, “I don’t know how old he is. He is the eldest in the family, so he may be twenty-four or -five. I cannot really tell. But he is very well mannered and a most accomplished person, Lizzie; he writes poetry and plays the pianoforte most beautifully.”

  Lizzie was very surprised. “Indeed? And when did you hear him play?” she asked.

  When Laura explained, she could not keep the enthusiasm out of her voice, especially as she described that part of the evening when the ladies had been invited to play and finally Mr Tom O’Connor was persuaded to take his place at the instrument.

  “Lizzie, I have never heard a young man play so well nor with such a fine touch before,” she said, and there was no doubting the warmth of her praise. Looking at her young sister, Lizzie noted the flush on her cheeks and her bright eyes and decided not to ask too many more questions for the moment.

  Later, after they had taken lunch and were playing with her son in the garden, Lizzie asked another, more pointed question. “And what does Mr Thomas O’Connor do, when he isn’t writing poetry or playing the pianoforte?”

  Once again Laura Ann blushed and seemed unable to answer immediately, except to say that she thought he worked in a store in Matlock and had heard their brother, Darcy, mention a clerical position. “But he would like to be a writer, I think,” she added, and Lizzie stopped playing with her little boy and said, “A writer? Like Mr Dickens or Miss Brontë?”

  “I don’t really know, Lizzie; he is quite modest and does not rate himself so. He says he just enjoys playing with words, but I think he should be a musician. I told him so, but he says he has not the patience to practise and will never make a concert pianist,” Laura replied.

  “He’s right, of course; there are many hundreds of persons who might play well, but unless they have the discipline and persistence, they will never succeed. Mr O’Connor must be a wise and sensible young man if he can make such a judgment about himself,” said Lizzie.

  “Indeed he is; at least I think he is. He is a very unassuming person, not at all vain or arrogant like some young men.”

  “And how does he look? Is he plain or handsome?” Her sister pressed her advantage.

  “Elena says he is handsome, though he is not as tall as her beloved Mr Featherstone,” Laura said.

  Lizzie, noting that her sister had taken refuge in quoting their sister-in-law, asked, “And you? Do you not think Mr Thomas O’Connor is handsome?”

  This time, Laura Ann could evade the questions no longer and responded with a degree of warmth that her sister found interesting. “I do; he is quite handsome, but that is not the important matter. Lizzie, he is a very agreeable person with the most pleasing manners. He is easy to converse with too and has so many ideas; I must confess that I have never before met anyone as interesting as Mr O’Connor.”

  Lizzie Carr could recognise the signs of an incipient romance when she saw them and smiled, before asking much more gently, “I think you rather like Tom O’Connor; am I right, Laurie dear?” she used the diminutive that their brothers had used when as children the two girls were known to their family and friends as Lizzie and Laurie.

  Perhaps disarmed by the intimacy of the childhood pet name, Laura could pretend no longer and confessed in a rush, “I do, Lizzie; I think I like him very much.”

  “And Thomas? Do you know how he feels?” asked Lizzie.

  Laura shrugged her shoulders; she was more diffident now. “I wish I knew. He is very charming and kind; I think perhaps he does like me a little, but I cannot be sure. Oh Lizzie, I wish I was like you. I remember how certain you were about Mr Carr, almost from the start.”

  Lizzie laughed, remembering well. “I was not as certain as you might have thought, but I knew soon enough.”

  “How does one know, Lizzie?” Laura asked, and Lizzie said with the confidence of the happily married young woman, “Oh, Laurie my dear, you will know when it’s right, I can promise you that.”

  Her sister looked a little downcast, and Lizzie resisted teasing her. “Don’t look so dejected, Laurie; just enjoy his company while you can, and when it happens, you will know.”

  Laura Ann made her sister promise that she would tell no one what they had spoken of and in return assured her that she would be the first to know if and when “it happened,” and they embraced one another.

  Laura Ann left to return home, taking the route through the village and, passing the haberdashers, saw the two O’Connor girls outside, looking at something in the window. They did not see her, and Laura, reluctant to delay her return home, walked on and came face-to-face with Tom O’Connor in the street outside the book shop.

  He seemed surprised to see her and greeted her as though it had been weeks since their last meeting, when in fact it had been but a few days. “My sisters are visiting their dressmaker, who lives behind the haberdasher’s shop. While waiting for them, I have been using my time studying the books in the shop window,” he explained, adding, “I see there is a new novel by Mrs Gaskell. Do you know her work?”

  Laura had to admit that she was unfamiliar with the novels of Mrs Gaskell. “I believe my sister Lizzie favours her, but I must confess my preference for the Brontë sisters.”

  Tom O’Connor smiled and said, “Ah yes, of course, the strange sisters who lived on the Yorkshire moors and published under the names of gentlemen. I regret to say I have not read them at all, although I have read of them. It must have been a great scandal at the time. Which of the sisters is your favourite?” he asked, and before she could answer, the two Misses O’Connor appeared, and Elvira cried out with pleasure at seeing Laura and ran to embrace her in the street, while her elder sister seemed no less happy, though not quite so demonstrative in her greeting.

  After a few more minutes of small talk, Laura was about to take her leave of them when Tom O’Connor declared that she should not be walking home alone at that hour and they would walk with her as far as the crossroads. It was of no use to protest that she would be quite safe, she had done this often; his sisters agreed with him, and they walked on together.

  When they reached the crossroads and parted, Laura thanked them for accompanying her, while Marguerite and Elvira reminded her that they looked forward to seeing her at the church fair on Satu
rday.

  Reaching Camden House, Laura, finding her mother in the sitting room, began to tell her Lizzie’s good news. The excitement of the Carrs’ new baby and their plans to travel to the United States next year so absorbed their time and interest that it didn’t seem necessary, Laura thought, to tell her mother about her meeting with the O’Connors, until later, when Cassy mentioned the family herself. Speaking of their visit to Willowdale Farm that morning, she said, “We met Mrs O’Connor and all her children. They are certainly an interesting family. Miss Marguerite O’Connor and her brother, Tom, seem intelligent young people, and little Elvira will be a beauty when she grows up, but the mother—dear Laura, I must say even with your warning, I was unprepared for the oddness of her manner. It is not that she is snobbish or pretentious, because clearly she is not, but she must dramatise every utterance. When she offers an opinion on a painting or a piece of tapestry, she makes it sound like the last judgment! Your papa was hard-pressed to conceal his amusement, especially since he had not the advantage of hearing your account of her. Indeed, at one stage, he was compelled to excuse himself, while she was in full flight, and go outside to look at the view from the terrace. Tom O’Connor accompanied him, and it seems your papa was quite favourably impressed with him.”

  Laura, genuinely pleased with all this information, tried hard to conceal her interest as her mother continued, “Did not Darcy say he had taken some clerical work in the town in order to help the family?”

  Laura nodded. “He did, but my brother thought it must be very frustrating work for someone who wishes to be a writer…”

  Cassy was quite sympathetic. “I can understand that very well, especially if he has some talent. Perhaps if your papa refers him to Walter Tate, he might have some work for him at the printery. He is clearly well educated and could be quite useful to Walter.”

  “Do you think that’s possible, Mama? If that were possible, I am sure Mr O’Connor would be most gratified,” said Laura, hoping not to betray her own pleasure at the prospect.

  “Well, I might mention it to your papa, but I would suggest that we say nothing of this to young Tom O’Connor until there is something definite. It would not do to raise his hopes in vain.”

  Laura agreed and let the conversation return to her sister Lizzie’s prospective journey to America. Cassy was concerned. “I wonder how difficult it would be travelling to America with two young children; I suppose they will take their nurses with them, but it will not be easy. I daresay Mr Carr wants them to meet his family.”

  “And Lizzie says she has been longing to travel to the United States,” said Laura, and Cassy agreed. “I know, she was always keen to travel, even when she was a little girl. But I shall miss her and the little ones.”

  * * *

  On the following Saturday, Laura Ann came down to breakfast dressed and ready to go to the church fair, and when her father offered to drive her there on his way to the hospital, she accepted gladly.

  They were halfway there when he said suddenly, “ Laura, I don’t suppose young Tom O’Connor will be at the fair, but if you do see him, would you ask him to go round to see Walter Tate at the offices of the Matlock Review next week? He may need to make an appointment—Walter can be quite busy—but it is important that he sees him as soon as possible.”

  She had to ask, “Is this about a job, Papa?” She spoke as casually as she could.

  “Hmmm, yes,” her father was careful not to raise expectations, “your brother said he was working as a clerk for a builder in Matlock; your mama thinks he would be better suited for work at the printery. He’s an educated young fellow, and he told me of his interest in writing. I have spoken to Walter Tate, and he is happy to see him. If he has something suitable, he may make him an offer. It may not be much, but at least it will be in the right industry. So if you do see Tom, tell him; if you don’t, we shall have to send him a note. But Laura, whatever you do, do not tell Mrs O’Connor; she will probably feel the need to announce it to the neighbourhood, and that would not do,” he said, laughing, and Laura, glad of the distraction, laughed with him. She did not want her father to know that Tom O’Connor would definitely be at the fair; indeed he had told her so himself before they had parted at the crossroads on Sunday evening.

  The grounds around the church seemed quite busy when Laura arrived. There was a small marquee and several stalls set up, and some of the ladies of the parish were bustling around already. Her father asked if he should call for her on his way home, but Laura said she would probably walk home with the O’Connors. As she made her way in, she saw Mrs O’Connor and Marguerite carrying two baskets and Elvira holding up a large sunshade. Clearly they were not expecting rain. Laura went directly to help them and was disappointed not to see Tom anywhere in sight.

  As they covered the tables and unpacked their wares, she kept looking, but he did not appear. An hour later, she had almost given up hope of seeing him and was wondering if she should send her father’s message through Marguerite, who was likely to be more discreet than her mother, when she saw him walking through the crowds towards their stall.

  Mrs O’Connor, who had been very active all morning, spruiking and selling and swapping stories with all and sundry, had repaired to the marquee with Marguerite to rest her feet and take a cup of tea, leaving Elvira and Laura Ann to mind the stall. Since it was early afternoon and custom was slow, Laura had agreed to let the little girl go and watch the clowns performing on the lawn in front of the church. She was glad now that she had done so.

  As Tom approached, she was surprised to see his usually pleasant countenance darkened by an uncharacteristic frown and thought perhaps he was unwell or out of sorts. She smiled, and in spite of his polite greeting, Laura could not help feeling he was rather preoccupied. She did not ask about nor did he give any reason for his absence earlier in the day.

  Laura decided she would take the opportunity to pass on her father’s message at once, before the ladies returned. “I have a message for you from my father,” she said in a rush.

  “A message from Doctor Gardiner?” He seemed surprised.

  “Yes, he said would you go to the offices of the Matlock Review and ask to see Mr Walter Tate. My father thinks he may have some work that may suit you. He is a very busy man, and you may need to make an appointment,” she explained, “but you should do so without delay.”

  When she looked at him, his expression had changed completely. “Some work at the Review?” he asked, in a tone that suggested he had not fully comprehended the message.

  “Yes, my father knows the Tates well. I understand he has mentioned your name to Walter Tate and he wishes to meet you.”

  “Miss Gardiner, I am astonished and delighted. I don’t know what to say. It is very kind of your father to mention me. It was only last Sunday, when your parents called on my mother, that I told him how very much I would like to be a writer… I had no idea he knew the owner of the biggest publishing house in the county,” he said, and when Laura asked, “Will you go?” his reply left her in no doubt. “Will I? Of course I will; first thing on Monday morning. I should love to get work with the Review, any kind of work. Please convey my heartfelt thanks to your father, and thank you too, Miss Gardiner, for bringing me this wonderful news.”

  Laura Ann, seeing his increasing enthusiasm, felt the need to add a word of caution. “My father doesn’t know for certain what work Mr Tate may have for you; it may not be much, and my brother Darcy says Walter Tate is a very hard-nosed businessman, unlike his father who was also a philanthropist. If he does take you on, he is likely to work you quite hard,” she warned.

  Tom O’Connor did not seem at all daunted. “Hard work does not scare me, Miss Gardiner; the lack of it does. I must help support my mother and sisters, which is why I have taken the work I do now, even though I have no enthusiasm for it. But if Mr Tate will give me work at the Review, I shall work twice as hard, if need be, to satisfy him.”

  “My father thought it was best that yo
u do not mention this to anyone else, until after you have met with Mr Tate and come to some agreement,” Laura advised, and Tom concurred.

  “Of course, I shall not speak of it to anyone,” he said, just as they saw his mother and sister returning from the marquee. Mrs O’Connor and Marguerite greeted him with questions as to why he had not arrived earlier. “We were lucky that Miss Gardiner kept her promise, or we would have had no help at all,” they complained.

  Tom explained that he had been on his way to the church when he had noticed two men with measuring tapes and instruments in the grounds of the old workhouse and had tried to discover what was going on. “One of the men said the property had been acquired by a Mr Barwick, a hardware manufacturer from Birmingham, who was going to pull the old place down and build his family a mansion,” he said.

  “A mansion in the grounds of the old workhouse? Now there’s a turn up for you,” exclaimed Mrs O’Connor, dramatically turning her eyes to the heavens. “Fancy having a mansion in the neighbourhood! Who would have thought it? Barwick! I wonder who they are, and will they be good neighbours, do you think?”

  Marguerite was sceptical. “I doubt they will have much time for us, Mother, if they are building themselves a mansion,” and despite her mother’s apparent excitement, she pulled a face and said, “I don’t think I like the idea of a mansion in the neighbourhood; especially not if it’s occupied by a hardware merchant from Birmingham!”

  “Manufacturer, not merchant,” her mother corrected her and scolded, “That is not worthy of you, Marguerite; it makes you sound snobbish, as though you thought you were better than them. What is wrong with a hardware manufacturer, pray?” As mother and daughter bickered about the prospect of having the Barwicks as neighbours, Laura Ann, who had finished packing up the baskets, decided it was time to leave. Claiming she had promised to be home by five, Laura asked to be excused. Having thanked her profusely for her help, Mrs O’Connor sent her regards to her parents and returned to squabbling with her daughters.