Preserving Pemberley

by Carrie Mollenkopf

“Oh! It is good to be home,” Georgiana agreed before catching sight of Elizabeth.

  “Welcome home,” Elizabeth volunteered with a smile.

  “Elizabeth! I can call you that now! No more stiff formality.”

  “Of course, we are to be sisters, and I must tell you everything about Pemberley. I fear that my brother often neglects details important to ladies, yet deemed of no account to gentlemen.”

  Darcy placed a hand upon his chest in mock denial, but his features bore a smile and he eventually shrugged in acceptance.

  “Do as you will. I have long learned that it is of no use to argue with you, and Elizabeth is no different. It is folly for me to dispute both of my favorite ladies, but have a care to allow some of my secrets to remain.”

  “I look forward to it… especially learning secrets. But you must be tired and in need of refreshment?”

  “It is a wonder at how traveling in a carriage, comfortable as it is, always makes one tired even when no energy is expended. I do wish there was a faster way.”

  “Indeed, as do I,” Darcy agreed, but did not elaborate as to what that conveyance would be. Instead, he offered an arm to each of them as they climbed the steps to enter. A mild apprehension filled him at the thought of what Georgiana would tell Elizabeth. While he had no fears about the divulging of his childhood nickname and other such sundry, Darcy wished he had a private moment to speak with his sister. Despite being a delicate girl with a greater love of light pursuits, Georgiana Darcy possessed one of the finest minds for mechanical things. Before their father passed, she had spent much of her youth in his company. The bond between father and daughter had not only eased the pain of Anne Darcy’s death, but had fostered an unusual education for Georgiana. By the time she was eight, Miss Darcy was not only proficient at the pianoforte, she had also managed to disassemble the instrument to see how it functioned before returning it to rights. This aptitude for engineering had been of great assistance in the completion of various inventions, whose patent and sale now supported Pemberley. What his sister accepted as commonplace was quite rare for a woman, especially one so young. Although Elizabeth was easily of equal intelligence, she lacked formal schooling, a thing that could make for an awkward relationship. He had hoped for some time to allow Elizabeth to adjust before discovering what would surely seem odd. However, time was not to be on his side, as the sound of his name jerked Darcy back to the immediate.

  “Dear Brother! Have you not heard a word I have been saying?”

  “My apologies. What were you saying? Something about an old friend of father’s?”

  “Mr. Trevithick… you remember him? He is an engineer in one of the copper mines Father invested in. Down in Cornwall.”

  “Ah yes… a rather hot-headed sort, but a man of wondrous ideas.”

  “Yes, that’s him. I saw him at an exhibition in London. Uncle Cedric took us to see it. It was filled with all sorts of fascinating things. Mr. Trevithick sends his congratulations to you and Elizabeth and hopes that now you are home we may continue our experiments.”

  “Experiments? What is this? Some sort of agricultural device?” Elizabeth queried innocently.

  “Ah…er…it’s nothing special, just a new variety of wheat,” Darcy lied as he shot Georgiana a silencing look. Confused, Georgiana appeared puzzled, but did not question him and changed the subject. More than once, especially in company, she had been forced to conceal her interests in masculine pursuits, but this was different. Elizabeth was now family, surely, she would be made aware of how Pemberley managed to keep solvent.

  “Yes, very boring, yet the gentlemen seem thoroughly entertained by it. How did you find Italy? Fitzwilliam has promised me a grand tour when I turn twenty… or marry, whichever comes first.”

  “It was beautiful. There were so many places of which I had only experienced through books. To see it for myself was beyond words, especially the Roman ruins.”

  Elizabeth accepted the change of conversation as if nothing had ever happened, but she had not mistaken the unspoken warning that had passed between brother and sister. Who was this Mr. Trevithick and why was he such a secret?

  ~4~

  As the Darcy’s celebrated the reunion of their family together at Pemberley, another, also acknowledged the recent marriage of Darcy and Elizabeth. Folding open the London newspaper so it lay flat upon the table, Sir Malcolm Wainright made use of a magnifying glass to examine the tiny print. As a man advancing in years, his eyesight had begun to fail, but his pride would not allow for the use of spectacles. Tufts of hair, grey and unkept, stuck out at random angles, giving the appearance of a half-plucked chicken. Sir Malcolm, a longtime friend of the Darcy family, did not share their desire to embrace new technology. A staunch believer in tradition, he had not permitted even the basest of improvement to his family home. As a result, the once majestic façade of Camberly Abbey was now little more than a ruin, matching the physique of its owner.

  “Cannot be changing the perfection of a medieval church. Sacrilege, that’s what it would be!” he had often shouted in defense when the merest suggestion of adding creature comforts was ever made. Even when the drafty stone floors and glassless windows had contributed to Lady Eudora Wainright’s contraction of pneumonia, he had not waivered. Eventually, she had succumbed to the malady, leaving him alone with their only child. However, that loss had done little to change his opinions. In reality, Sir Malcolm lacked the funds to make any significant changes, using the excuse of tradition to masque his penury. Over the years, as industry had taken the lion’s share of workers from his tenant farms, the few remaining were unable to turn equitable profits. If not for the dowry of the now deceased Lady Wainright, the land and house would have been taken long ago by taxes. Despite this, the old man had required little and generally had an aimable temperament and was kindly disposed to those not of his relation. This had made him a welcome guest throughout the county, including the fine estate of Pemberley. A schoolmate of the current owner’s father, Sir Malcolm had many a fond memory of the Darcy family, so it was with true happiness that he carefully read the announcement of marriage.

  “Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, married to Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. Well, it is about time. I must call upon them and offer my congratulations. It has been far too long since I have been received there, not since old Darcy died… why that must be nearly eight years now. Terribly thoughtless of me, since I recall receiving an announcement, but cannot seem to remember where it went! We must go at once.”

  “We father? Surely you must be joking?” countered an irritated voice from across the room.

  “Not at all! It is long past the time you should have married as well. Perhaps renewing the acquaintance will be of benefit to you.”

  The entire time Sir Malcolm had perused his papers, Henry Wainright had sat staring idly into the flickering flames of the dying fire. He had slowly sipped a glass of brandy, allowing the liquid to cast its balm over the constant feelings of anger he possessed towards the old man that sired him. For all his father’s friendliness towards others, it had not extended to his son. Henry hated his father. But, if there was one man, he could not abide more, it was Fitzwilliam Darcy. The very mention of that name sent sparks of jealousy rifling through him. No matter what accomplishments he earned, Henry Wainright never measured up to the new master of Pemberley, a comparison his father never ceased to mention.

  Some five years younger, Henry Wainright had grown up in the shadow of Fitzwilliam Darcy. Always an athletic child, he was tall and well built, eager to compete with his elders, especially one so favored as the heir to Pemberley. As his parents were lifelong friends, the boys were in constant companionship. Of that, Henry had no complaint. He had found Fitzwilliam more than willing to entertain a boy who trailed after him, asking endless questions. Patience had never been lacking, nor had criticism been bestowed. Had circumstances been different, he and Darcy could have been the best of friends, for no fault could be found between them. It was his
father that had fostered the animosity.

  “Why must you always be tinkering about like some laborer? I will not have my son… a gentleman’s son, be seen consorting with the workers. Go make yourself presentable! Fitz Darcy would never have grease on his trousers!”

  Henry had always been fascinated by the way things worked. Born well after the world had embraced steam engines and mechanical devices, he loved the sounds and smells of industry. So many things could be improved with machines, especially if one had the funds to build them. At first, his interests had been indulged, but when Henry had continued after completing his university studies, his father had put a stop to any suggestion of his working.

  “I did not spend good money to have you learn mathematics and such only to become a common laborer! Gentlemen must not be seen with their sleeves rolled up, engaging in physical work. The next thing you know, women will be wanting equality! The world only functions when everyone knows their place. Look at young Darcy, he did not need to complete a university degree. He belongs at Pemberley, just as you do here. I should think that you would have learned that instead of wasting money.”

  The fact that Darcy had left university only due to the illness and subsequent death of his father had gone unnoticed, as had the fact that the Darcy fortune was nearly ten times that of the Wainright’s. Fortunately, the money for Henry’s education had been bestowed by his mother’s dowry. The old man had not been able to touch it. Even when Henry had tried to implement improvements similar to those made by the very same Fitzwilliam Darcy at Pemberley, in his own home, it was never right…never good enough. Any sound person would relish the luxury of a steam fueled hot bath, but not Sir Malcolm Wainright. He had furiously taken a hammer to the newly installed piping.

  “It’s an abomination and I won’t have it!” his father had shouted, ordering the dismantling of every inch.

  Since then, Henry had conducted his work in private, taking a rented building in a nearby town. Not a soul knew of his defiance save for his contacts among his circle of fellow inventors. Gossip traveled fast, touching the ears of everyone, including his father. It was the one thing that made life bearable. If his luck held, one of his inventions would make him a rich man…or his father’s death. Either was equally preferable, until then, he would play the dutiful son. Feigning a smile that he hoped passed for genuine, Henry replied to his father’s order.

  “You are right, it has been too long. Young Georgiana must be quite the lady by now. Perhaps it is time to renew the acquaintance.”

  “That is more the ticket! She must be of a marriageable age by now. I could rest easy going to my grave if there were a union between our families. A more perfect match cannot be found.”

  To this Henry did not reply. His last recollection of Miss Georgiana Darcy was one of a spoilt child, too clever for her own good. However, any such deficiency could be overlooked with the application of a strong hand in addition to a large dowry. For once, his father had an idea that was worthy of contemplation. Smiling at the old man, Henry nodded in agreement.

  “When do we leave?”

  ~5~

  Two weeks later…

  With the return of Georgiana, the household began to fall into a routine of normalcy. The addition of Elizabeth as mistress was hardly a ripple in the calm of Pemberley. While she had not expected any sort of resistance from Georgiana, Elizabeth was somewhat surprised at the eagerness in which the younger woman relinquished her position.

  “Oh, it is not as if I were ever truly running the place. Fitzwilliam expected me to serve as hostess on some occasions, but those were so rare that I never really got much practice. Besides, Mrs. Reynolds does such a fine job there was never much need for interference. I suppose entertaining will increase now that you are here.”

  Elizabeth could not have asked for a more cordial reception. As it was, living at Pemberley was a significant adjustment from the compact but comfortable Longbourn. With four sisters and a domineering mother, little required her daily attention aside from settling squabbles. But, from the small mountain of correspondence that awaited her, Pemberley was an entirely different situation. These obligations seemed trivial, yet managed to occupy considerable hours of her time. As a result, any investigation into the mysterious nocturnal activities of her husband had been put on hold. Not that it mattered, for she could account for his whereabouts over the past fortnight, and there had been no further suspicious conversation in her hearing. Now, as she sipped a cup of tea and sorted through the envelopes, Elizabeth nearly gave in to the desire to toss the lot into the embers of the fire. A chilly and damp morning, she and Georgiana had delayed a planned outing to introduce her to some tenant farms in favor of the indoors. Miss Darcy, seizing the opportunity to practice a new piece of music, did her best to entertain her new sister, but to no avail. Restless, Elizabeth took the pile of correspondence and sat next to Georgiana as she played, reading the return addresses in an attempt to prioritize and learn the Darcy family acquaintances.

  “Miss Geraldine Mycroft of Trevallen?”

  “Fitzwilliam’s former Latin tutor. Retired for years, she must be near a hundred. Send an assortment of tinned sweets with the reply, but nothing that requires strong teeth.”

  “Dr. and Mrs. George Capston…Belmont Square, London.”

  “Mama’s youngest sister and her husband. Aunt Sadie and Uncle George are usually off traveling somewhere. He is a professor of history, always gadding about to foreign places. That can wait.”

  “Sir Malcolm Wainright of Camberly Abbey. Wait! That sounds familiar. Is it not nearby?”

  Georgina stopped playing and took the letter from Elizabeth. She fingered the raised wax seal and sniffed the paper as a smile fixed her features.

  “Tobacco and peppermints, just as I remember. Do open this one.”

  “Who is he?” Elizabeth asked as she carefully unfolded the single sheet.

  “One of my father’s greatest friends. I have not seen him in ages, despite the close proximity. Sir Malcolm is a bit of an eccentric recluse, but at one time was a regular visitor… until Papa died. He took the passing rather hard. What does it say?”

  Elizabeth scanned the paper. The heavy scrawl was difficult to decipher and it was some moments before sense was made.

  “He sends his congratulations and wishes to call upon us at our earliest convenience. The rest is rather jumbled…something about a man named Henry and ‘frivolous’ occupations.”

  “May I?” Georgiana requested. Taking the letter, she squinted slightly. The old man’s hand had not improved with age, but having a previous acquaintance made the message clearer.

  “He plans on bringing Henry, his son. Why he must be in his middle twenties now. The last I heard of him was about an extension of his studies at university. Sir Malcolm does not value education beyond the basics and I fear that Henry’s interest in mechanical devices was not well received. Foolish…but the elderly often have that impression of the young. Despite that, I have always been fond of Sir Malcolm. He was rather like an indulgent grandfather, filled with wonderful stories and endless patience for a child. Which is more than I can say about Henry… my memories of him are…unpleasant. He was quite a bully.”

  “Well, perhaps that has changed with age. I should think any father would be proud of such an achievement as a university education. I know my sister Mary would give her eyeteeth to have the opportunity to study at a university. Unfortunately, those doors are closed to ladies. We only have what is bestowed by indulgent parents.”

  “Agreed. I have often wished to study music under the masters, but cannot, even with the considerable sum of my dowry…. Elizabeth? Might I ask a rather personal question?”

  “Of course. You may ask me anything.”

  “If money and gender were no object, what would you choose to do?”

  Elizabeth looked at Georgiana curiously. There was something in the younger woman’s countenance that bespoke a question beyond what was so simply stated.
As a gentleman’s daughter, the sole expectation for her was to make a good marriage and have children, nothing more. Professional occupations were for those who must work to support themselves or idle fantasies. It was not a subject that Elizabeth had ever carefully considered aside from a desperate moment of panic when her father’s heir proved to be wholly unsuitable. Mr. Collins, while a respectable man, was a social disaster. Penniless, what would she and her sisters have done to avoid abject poverty? At the time, ideas of being a paid companion or governess had flirted through her thoughts, but she was hardly qualified at either. Elizabeth’s force of personality did not make for complacent obedience so expected as a companion, and her lack of education made the other impossible. But, if money and her sex no longer obstacles, well that was something entirely different. After a moment of thought, a smile broke her concentration.

  “Please promise not to laugh…”

  “Never!”

  “An architect…I have always considered drawing my singular accomplishment. My father possesses a copy of Da Vinci’s machines. I used to spend hours poring over it, trying to copy the sketches. What a wondrous mind that man had. I could never hope to match one such as he, but if given the opportunity? Imagine! To draw the great cathedrals and palaces or make a thing to allow a person to actually fly? It would be like having a hand in history.”

  Georgiana smiled in appreciation. Her brother had indeed chosen well. While she and Fitzwilliam both possessed a talent for making machines work, they were abysmally deficient when it came to the creation of schematics. Their drawings were reminiscent of those manufactured by children with chalk pencils. With the right tools Elizabeth could fine tune her skills, becoming an asset to Pemberley beyond that of mistress.

  ~6~

  One week later, near midnight…

  While his sister distracted Elizabeth with the transfer of mundane household duties, Darcy was relieved, yet filled with a mixture of intrigue and worry with the knowledge of the impending arrival of an unexpected night visitor. It had been some months since he last had the pleasure of working with Richard Trevithick. As one of the innovators behind bringing steam driven devices to the mines of Cornwall, Mr. Trevithick had long entertained the Darcy family with tales involving the dangers of removing precious tin and copper from the earth. As a principal investor, Darcy’s father had indulged various private enterprises that Mr. Trevithick had created with the hopes of one day revolutionizing the way people traveled.