In spite of the wintry cold, Pemberley looked splendid against the sky, and Lizzie hoped her father, whose good taste in art and writing had influenced her own appreciation, would notice the elegance of line and proportion that characterised the handsome house. She was not disappointed. No sooner had he alighted and embraced his daughters—Lizzie twice and Kitty with special mention on how well she looked—than he turned to Darcy, who greeted him most warmly and welcomed him to Pemberley. Mr Bennet responded with genuine enthusiasm. “This is indeed a fine place you have here, Mr Darcy; there are not too many places I have seen which manage to avoid looking bleak and cold in Winter; Pemberley certainly does that. The park with those stands of evergreen trees looks much less bleak than some of the bare grounds I saw on my way here.” Darcy was clearly pleased and, as he ushered him indoors, explained that the park and grounds at Pemberley had been lovingly designed by his late mother.
Elizabeth and Kitty following close behind, exchanged glances and smiled. They recalled that their father it was who had taken an interest in the layout of the grounds at Longbourn, while Mrs Bennet had shown no interest in it at all.
Embarrassed, Lizzie, who knew her father was teasing her, turned to her husband and urged him to pay no attention, but Darcy, catching Mr Bennet’s mood, was determined to join in the game. “Why thank you, Sir, I’m sure I agree with you; I have not seen Lizzie look more beautiful than she does now. However, I cannot take all the credit; she has been happier than ever since we had your letter advising us of your visit.” Elizabeth blushed, mainly with the pleasure of hearing the ease with which her husband and father appeared to exchange these pleasantries, without a hint of awkwardness. And yet, there was regard and respect in Darcy’s tone, which truly pleased her.
As she wrote later, to Jane:
I cannot say too much about the warmth and sincerity of Mr Darcy’s welcome to our father. In his conversations and general demeanour, he has in every respect been so pleasing, often deferring to my father, where I may not have done. We have had so many conversations, Jane. Did you know that Father was seriously concerned about the lack of schooling for children of many tenant farmers? At dinner, we were joined by Dr Grantley and Georgiana, and Papa expressed his outrage that while Britain was “well nigh bursting with national pride” after the war with Napoleon, the nation had only haphazard and inadequate schools for its children, except for the sons of the rich and privileged, of course. Surprisingly, both Dr Grantley and Mr Darcy agreed with Papa, and indeed Darcy went so far as to say that his father had once wanted to start a school for the children of Pemberley’s tenants but had been opposed by the then-curate of the parish of Kympton, who had probably seen it as a threat to the authority of the church, which provided only a Sunday School.
I have put that information aside in a corner of my mind, Jane, and I intend to ask Darcy if we may not try again, since we have at present, no incumbent at Kympton. It would be good to have a school for the children of the estate.
Dear Jane, when I think how much we learned to appreciate the value of reading, it does sadden me to think so many young children are without any teaching at all. Dr Grantley pointed out that scholars at Oxford are mostly the sons of the rich and not all appreciate the value of learning. So many of our great men are self-taught, and it seems a shame that only a few of our girls are ever taught at all. Oh Jane dearest, I seem to have run on so, forgive me, but it has been such an exciting day. Papa is rather tired from travelling and has retired to his rooms, but hopes to be awake bright and early tomorrow, when Darcy has promised to drive him around the park and show him more of the countryside. I shall continue this letter tomorrow, when I hope to be more certain of our plans for London.
Goodnight, dear Jane.
Mr Bennet’s stay at Pemberley brought both him and his daughters more pleasure than any of them had anticipated. For Elizabeth and Kitty, it was an opportunity to see their father in a new light. Away from the dominating, intrusive presence of their mother, their father expressed a range of opinions on subjects dear to his heart; subjects to which he had never cared to speak out. Because he knew they were of no interest to his wife, he had unfairly assumed that his daughters would have no interest in them either.
Yet now at Pemberley in the company of Darcy and Dr Grantley, he was much more expansive and talked of many matters that had concerned him, matters that were in the news, like the increasing moves towards enclosing the farmlands and taking over the commons or the rapid and unconscionable increases in rents.
He found in his son-in-law and Dr Grantley men of like mind, well-educated, well-read, and more amenable to enlightened ideas. Elizabeth listened with increasing astonishment to the flowering of her father’s reformist zeal and wondered at the frustration he must have experienced these twenty-odd years, with so little opportunity to express his opinions in congenial company.
“You will have seen it in this county too, Mr Darcy,” he said after dinner one night, “I certainly see it all over Hertfordshire, every landowner with a little property and a modest house has decided to re-build or expand or improve, call it what you will, acquiring a field here, enclosing a meadow there or worse still, adding bits of classical architecture to perfectly good English houses.” Both Darcy and Dr Grantley agreed immediately; to Elizabeth, it was like a breath of fresh air to hear their views.
Dr Grantley complained that people in London were being taken in by the new tribe of decorators and designers who were re-modelling everything in the Classical image, whether or not it was appropriate. Darcy said he had been approached twice by disciples of Humphry Repton, who had offered to force the stream that ran through the park into a series of cascades, ponds, and fountains, ornamented with classical statuary! Elizabeth cried out on hearing this, only to be reassured by her husband that it was the very last thing he would permit at Pemberley. Mr Bennet congratulated him on his good sense and judgement. “Because,” he said, “Pemberley is the kind of handsome, solid house that needs no such embellishment. The naturally flowing stream enhances the house and the park because of its very simplicity; it does not need fountains and peacocks.” Everyone laughed at the idea of peacocks in the park at Pemberley until Dr Grantley pointed out that Lord Derby had just added a new wing with a dining room that overlooked an enclosed garden that housed exotic birds imported from India! Mention of India reminded Elizabeth of the exotic tastes of Warren Hastings as exemplified by the interior design of his famous residence Daylesford, which they had visited on their travels. Darcy observed that it was far too ornate and exotic for his taste.
Their evenings passed in musical entertainment and excellent conversation, of a level Elizabeth had rarely enjoyed at Longbourn. She had the satisfaction of knowing that her father had shown, as her Uncle Gardiner had done before, that he was the equal of any gentleman. Recalling her encounter with Lady Catherine, Lizzie permitted herself a little smug smile. It was a special pleasure for her to see how easily Darcy and Dr Grantley engaged him in conversation and the degree of respect they accorded his views. Frequently, the Rector, Mr Jenkins, would call and stay to dinner, adding his views to the conversation or his excellent voice to the singing, with Kitty to accompany them on the pianoforte. Elizabeth noticed that Mr Jenkins was there more often of late and believed him to be rather lonely and glad of the company.
Mr Bennet was so enjoying himself, that he had no desire at all to go up to London; he expressed a preference for accompanying Dr Grantley, Georgiana, and Kitty on a drive to the Peak District. He had heard a great deal about the area from Lizzie and the Gardiners, when they toured there last summer, he said. Elizabeth was surprised that Kitty preferred to stay but was later not quite so surprised, when it was revealed that young Mr Jenkins, the Rector, had been invited to join their party.
Completing her letter to Jane, briefly, for there were preparations to be made, Elizabeth mentioned the interest that Kitty was showing in the work of the little church at Pemberley. She added that the Rector
was perhaps as great a source of interest as the rest of the Rectory. “He is a very well-mannered and thoughtful young man, and Mr Darcy likes him,” she said, but she urged Jane to keep her counsel on this, “until we meet and can speak privately.” To Charlotte, Elizabeth was particularly cordial, since she felt she owed her oldest friend some special consideration. Their friendship had been shaken, when Charlotte chose to marry Mr Collins, and Elizabeth felt the need to make amends.
She wrote:
I am looking forward very much to seeing you, dear Charlotte. God willing, we shall meet in May, before your baby is born, and have the time to talk as we used to in days gone by. God bless you,
Your friend, Lizzie.
CHAPTER FIVE
Relations and friends
IN THE SPRING OF 1816, London was a thriving, exciting metropolis and a political, mercantile, social, and cultural centre. Many people came there to do business, to make political or social contacts, or simply to see and be seen in the right places, with the right people.
For Darcy and Elizabeth, their visit to the big city meant much more than this. While Darcy did have business to negotiate and Elizabeth intended to do some shopping in the fashionable emporiums recommended by her aunt, their main interest was the opportunity to enjoy the company of the Gardiners, with whom they shared a most satisfying relationship. Whether talking of matters pertaining to business or attending some entertainment in one of the numerous venues around London, both Darcy and Elizabeth were completely at ease with Mr and Mrs Gardiner. On matters concerning themselves or their families, they were able to speak frankly and openly, because there was between them a strong sense of trust as well as an affectionate concern for one another.
Darcy and Mr Gardiner needed to discuss a proposal to extend their business, based on reports from Fitzwilliam on the opportunities involving the trade in Tea and Spices from the Eastern colonies of India and Ceylon.
While Darcy had little experience in the business of trade, he was wise enough to see the direction in which British commerce was moving, and being no longer hobbled by snobbery, he found working with the practical and amiable Mr Gardiner rewarding and engrossing. He was content to leave the actual organisation and administration of the business in the hands of Mr Gardiner but took a lively interest in its progress. Darcy was also aware of the other consequences of the great expansion of industry and commerce that was taking place in England. It had been troubling him, and Elizabeth knew he felt strongly about it.
After dinner one night, he mentioned the subject of the new industries that were spreading across the country. “Are you aware,” he asked quietly, “that there are factories being opened up in places such as Sheffield and Birmingham, which employ young children? I’ve had a letter from Fitzwilliam, who speaks with some horror of child labour in the Colonies; I wonder if he knows that it is happening here, in the very heart of England.” Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner exchanged glances. It was obvious from his countenance and the tone of his voice that Darcy was speaking very seriously. Mr Gardiner responded cautiously, wondering how extensive the practice was.
But Darcy persevered. “I understand it is very popular with the cotton spinners and weavers,” he said, adding with some sarcasm, “The children are thought to be small enough to crawl under the machines and clean them,” and hearing Elizabeth gasp, he looked at her and added, more gently, “I have this on the best authority, my dear. I know it seems unbelievable, but it’s true. What is more, I’m told that all over the Midlands and in parts of the West Riding and Cheshire, the landscape is being blackened with pits and smoke while the trout streams are being choked with wool scour and dye wash.” He sounded angry, and Mr Gardiner, realising that Darcy was always passionate about the land, agreed that it was a worrying trend. Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner had remained silent at first, but they added their voices in support of Darcy, only to find that their guest, a banker, was adamant that this was the way of the future.
“It’s progress,” he declared, “and there is a price to be paid for it.”
“If that is true, I want no part of it,” said Darcy in a voice so determined that everyone at the table was left in no doubt of the strength and sincerity of his words. “I have no desire to see the fields and rivers of England sullied and the ordinary working people and their children enslaved by the owners of pits and workshops, just so they can make a great deal of money.”
Mrs Gardiner was quite surprised, pleasantly so, on hearing Darcy speak out. Being from the same part of England, she shared his apprehension about the despoiling of the land and was glad to hear it spoken of so passionately. She whispered to her niece, “Lizzie, this is a side of Mr Darcy we have not seen before.” Elizabeth assured her aunt that she had become aware of Darcy’s concern since their marriage and knew it to be a matter of considerable importance to him.
Elizabeth’s pride in her husband grew as she heard his words. She had never heard him speak of these matters with such a degree of passion before, but she knew he had concerns, because from time to time he had been troubled by information he had received.
Recently, there had been incidents reported of rural labourers’ being thrown out of work as their masters enclosed the small farms and the commons and introduced “labour saving” machines. Their families, deprived of food and shelter on the farm and rendered homeless, wandered the streets, begging from passers-by.
Worse still, laws had been recently passed to make the casual taking of game punishable by transportation or, in some cases, death. Poachers, as they now were trying to grab a hare, fish, or pheasant to feed a hungry family, might well find themselves arrested, charged, and sentenced to be transported to Botany Bay. Their wives and children either went with them or starved.
Elizabeth knew that Darcy had protested strongly about this abuse of the poor at a meeting with some of the new landowners in the neighbourhood. She’d heard of this from Rosamund Camden whose father had agreed with Darcy and supported his stand. Many others did not. They were caught up in a rush to produce more with less and enrich themselves at the expense of the landless poor who had worked hard for them for generations.
The banker, Mr Fletcher, appeared to be unmoved. “Does that mean you will not enclose the commons on your property, Mr Darcy?” he asked.
“I most certainly will not,” replied Darcy, reddening as he spoke, “The commons and some of the woodlands have been set aside for the use of everyone. It would be a gross injustice to enclose them and deny the village people use of the land.”
Young Caroline Gardiner, who had been called in by her mother to help with the tea and provide some after-dinner entertainment at the pianoforte, heard part of the conversation and when an opportunity arose asked her mother why Mr Darcy was so angry. On being told, she expressed total sympathy with his point of view and, as Mrs Gardiner later told Elizabeth, solemnly promised that she would never marry anyone who had enclosed their fields and turned out their farm workers. “She was completely at one with Mr Darcy,” said Mrs Gardiner as Elizabeth took a cup of tea with her before retiring, “Caroline thinks that you and Mr Darcy are the most wonderful couple in the world, Lizzie, and tonight, she was so impressed by his eloquence and anger that I can wager she will soon want to join the Reformists or even Mr Cobbett’s Radicals!” Elizabeth laughed and when she went upstairs, related the tale to Darcy, who would not agree that it was precocious of young Caroline, saying only that the child had intelligence beyond her tender years and it was indeed a pleasure to find that a little girl not yet thirteen could be so moved by injustice.
Later that night, Elizabeth confided in her husband the sense of loyalty and pride she had felt as he spoke at dinner. She added that she wished she had known more about the circumstances of the textile trade; she would have had an opinion to offer when Jane had written to her about the new and lucrative business that her in-laws, the Hursts, were investing in. “I know all about it; I believe his sisters and Mr Hurst have actually persuaded Bingley to buy
shares. Well, I intend to enlighten him about the pernicious nature of the enterprise, and if I can, I shall persuade him to sell out,” said Darcy.
“Sell out?” Elizabeth could not believe her ears, “Do you think he will?” Darcy’s face and voice had the kind of determination that Elizabeth had learned to recognise as implacable.
“I certainly intend to try my best, my love; I hope to convince him that his valuable patrimony will be far better used to purchase a very attractive property in Leicester, some twenty miles from Pemberley,” he said, with a sly smile. The news sent Elizabeth into transports of delight as he went on, “Since he is soon to be a father, it is surely time he acquired a family home. He has frequently asked me to look out for a suitable place. Your sister is naturally keen to be close to us, so I have done his bidding, and I am fairly confident that if you and Jane were to add your considerable powers of persuasion to mine, we shall soon convince Bingley of the wisdom of moving his money from the hideous squalor of the textile industry to the still green and pleasant vales of Leicestershire.”
Elizabeth, who had not heard Darcy speak with such passion and eloquence on the subject before, was quite amazed at his scheme. She couldn’t help admiring his determination and dedication, but even more was she delighted at the thought of the Bingleys moving to Leicestershire, not twenty miles from Pemberley. “Will you not tell me where this Paradise lies?” she asked, and Darcy told her it was one of the properties being sold by Lord Thompson, who was getting too old to leave his own considerable estate in Hampshire and travel around the country. Two of the smaller properties—one in Leicestershire and another in Staffordshire—were to be sold, although this was not publicly known. Darcy was familiar with both properties and was certain the one in Leicester would suit the Bingleys well. “We could look it over on our way to Longbourn and Netherfield, next month—would you like that?” he suggested.
Pemberley Chronicles Page 8