“If we can manage to bring ore hundreds of feet out of the ground, surely the day will come when people can travel hundreds of miles by the same process.”
Unfortunately, more failures than successes had been had at the expense of the Darcy fortune. As a result, the present master of Pemberley was hesitant to continue the connection, despite his father’s fondness for the man. So, it was with some trepidation that his arrival was waited. In the library, Darcy casually sipped a small glass of brandy and contemplated what to say that would deny funds, yet preserve cordial relations. Recent months had proven unreliable in terms of income beyond the tenant farms. The weather had been less than cooperative as well. Many of the crofts needed repairs and crops had been damaged by alternating drought and deluge. It was not that Darcy feared any sort of need to economize, but he hated to touch the family savings apart from interest. Idly, he fantasized that Trevithick would come bearing some plan for a fascinating device which no person of adequate means could do without. But that was where the dream ended. He loved to tinker about, and held great enthusiasm for any project, but as a person long accustomed to servants and means, it was difficult to imagine work saving devices when one simply did not ever do them. Swearing softly at his own lack of creativity, Darcy downed the last of his drink just as a knock on the door announced his visitor.
“Mr. Trevithick sir,” Edwin Stokes announced before exiting the library, closing the door behind.
Once alone, Darcy rose and warmly shook the rough calloused hands of Richard Trevithick. In the year since Darcy had last laid eyes upon him, time had been less than kind if his manner of dress could speak. Wearing coarse cotton trousers under a threadbare coat, the frayed hems did little to hide the cracked toes of his boots. If Darcy had not known better, he would have said that the man appeared homeless.
“Good to see you Richard. Please, take some refreshment.”
Richard Trevithick took the proffered brandy and downed it in one draught. Never a man to profess grand manners, he allowed the liquor to warm his insides for a moment before sinking into a chair opposite Darcy’s.
“Thank you, it has been a long ride…and that footman of yours…he is a better guard than the King’s own. I thought he was not going to admit me. Demanded a password! Cheeky sot!”
Darcy laughed, but was pleased that Stokes had done his duty. Had a stranger arrived without giving the proper verbiage, they would have been refused entry, or at best, referred to Mrs. Reynolds, not the master of the house. After the last time, Stokes had the added responsibility of watching for Elizabeth. Darcy knew his wife had not believed his lie, but he had yet to decide how to tell her. What should be the simplest of matters had become a mess. That was what he got for lying, but now was not the time to contemplate his lovely bride. Returning to the man across from him, Darcy probed for the reason behind his midnight call.
“What brings you from the wilds of Cornwall? From what my bankers tell me, the mines are nearly played out. Surely a man of your talents must be immersed in finding a solution?”
To this simple fact, Trevithick sighed deeply. As a man used to giving orders rather than taking them, he hated to feel as if he were begging, but desperation drove him.
“I wish it were so, but unfortunately, the sea says otherwise. Most of the mines are flooding. It is too dangerous to go deeper. Nearly half of the miners are out of work, myself included…except…well, I have an idea…one that may change the world.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow at this last statement. He had read in the papers about the financial distress faced by the mining communities, but there was little he could do. Entire towns had nearly emptied as their populations flocked to cities or the Americas in search of work. It was difficult to believe that the disheveled man sitting before him was in possession of a miracle.
“Terrible state of things…but, I am always interested in new ideas. What did you have in mind that I could be of assistance?”
Trevithick dug into an interior pocket of his coat and withdrew a rolled piece of parchment. Unfurling the paper, he revealed a most unusual looking machine. The sketches were crude and rudimentary, resembling a carriage, with accommodations for passengers, but instead of a separate driver’s seat to manage horses it had a circular wheel connected to a steam engine. After careful perusal of the document, Darcy handed it back, but Trevithick bade him to keep it.
“I need to work on the specifics more, but my talent for drafting leaves a bit wanting...easier for me to build it…preferably with your assistance, and of course Georgiana. She always was a wonder, even as a child.”
To this, Darcy nodded in acknowledgement, but was unconvinced about the possibilities and said so.
“A steam wagon? Those have been around for years, but never managed to become popular. Didn’t some Frenchman invent it? It is hardly an original thought.”
“His name was Cugnoy, and yes, but it was extremely dangerous. The operator always sustained steam burns. A few of them even exploded, but I believe that with the proper modifications, a safer version can be made. One that can carry an entire family without worry. Imagine what that could do for everyday travel? My poor horse was nearly dead after thirty miles and it took most of the day.”
“What of the locomotives? Cannot they carry people already?”
“Yes, of course, but the track is an extensive undertaking and limits where it can go. Right now, there are only lines in industrial areas. This…if successful, can be used by anyone, on regular roads.”
“From your drawing, it sounds altogether too fantastic to be real. I should have to see it for myself once a prototype is built.”
“Ah…er… therein lies my problem... funding.
Darcy eyed his guest curiously. It was difficult to see a man ask for money, but it had been sometime since Pemberley benefited by a significant investment. The most recent attempt, one interrupted by Elizabeth’s arrival, had been nothing more than an improvement to Cook’s compression box for cold storage. Admittedly, Darcy knew that his greatest contribution to mechanical inventions was financial. It was an indulgence that afforded intellectual stimulation in addition to modern convenience.
“Exactly how much do you estimate?”
A slow smile returned to Trevithick’s features as the possibility of seeing his idea manifest grew nearer, but he hesitated to state a number for fear that the amount would be too high to entice Darcy.
“Most of the materials can be repurposed from what I already have. It is more a matter of accommodations. Pemberley’s location and workshop are ideal. Cornwall, while I will always consider it home, is too remote and unsuitable for such an undertaking… I am aware of one or two others who are working on similar projects, but as the impact of a success could be vast, it is all very secretive.”
“All of that is understandable, and I have always believed that privacy is paramount, but that does not answer my question. How much will be required to begin?”
This time, Trevithick looked away as he spoke.
“Near two thousand…and as much as I hate to admit…I also require living accommodations. My position in Cornwall provided a modest cottage, but that must be vacated with the closure of the mine.”
“A cottage is not a problem… but two thousand…that is quite a sum, even for Pemberley.”
Darcy always referred to any significant investment in terms of the estate. For in reality, it was not a simple thing to be custodian of such a responsibility, and that was what he was, keeping Pemberley for the next generation.
“I must admit to being interested, but it will require some discussion with my sister. As you know, Georgiana possesses a rare talent for mechanical things despite her age…and my wife. I suppose you heard of my recent marriage?”
“Yes, my congratulations… and of course, you must do as see fit…Might I hear from you directly?”
“Allow me a week.”
Trevithick rose and shook Darcy’s hand before leaving, but no more words passed
between them. After the engineer left, Darcy sat alone contemplating a decision, but it was an easy one to make. In truth, the funds were the least of his concerns, he had money put aside from past investments to utilize, without having any need to draw money from a formal account. Of Georgiana’s agreement he would be assured. She adored the man she had regularly called “Uncle Richard”, for despite his unpolished ways, had never spoken a condescending word about her interest in subjects of the masculine sort, encouraging her efforts with the patience of a dedicated teacher. The only worry was Elizabeth. An undertaking of this magnitude would require her knowledge and preferably her approval.
~7~
Darcy waited no time to speak with his sister, waking her immediately after Trevithick departed. Tapping on her door, he was not surprised to find her fully dressed and awake, reading a book on archaeology. At nearly eighteen, she had come a long way from the shy, naive girl that had nearly been seduced by the charms of the man who was now Elizabeth’s brother-in-law. But, as that was a subject never broached, no one would believe that she possessed a single flaw. Pemberley had offered her opportunity beyond the norm for most young ladies. Without a true mother figure, there had been no one to naysay her pursuits as unladylike. As a result, Georgiana was as well read as any university student. However, she had taken great care to hide it when in mixed company, focusing on her love of music.
“You know dear brother, that the best musicians also demonstrate proficiency in mathematics. I believe that your Elizabeth has such potential as well. Did you know that she harbors a desire to study architecture? I have had the opportunity to examine one of the sketchbooks she carries. Her talent is remarkable.”
“Sketchbooks? So that was what she was doing…hmm”
“So, you have seen them?”
“Er, not exactly. When we were in Italy, she had risen early one morning and was writing in a small book. I remember her pausing often and gazing off into the distance. Believing it to be a personal journal, I did not intrude.”
“Silly man! She probably feared your censure. You do have a way of appearing critical.”
“Why is it that my sister knows more about my wife than I do?”
“Well, why is it that you have not shared this idea of Uncle Richard’s? Elizabeth must know all of Pemberley’s secrets.”
“I plan to tell her tomorrow, after Richard and his family are settled in.”
“Oh… about that, I chose the cottage nearest the woods. It has not been lived in for some time, but was the only one available with enough room. I had no idea that he and Aunt Jane had three children already, plus one more on the way.”
“That does explain his urgency.”
“The timing is a bit awkward. We are to receive old Sir Malcolm and Henry Wainright today. Keeping them entertained may impede the ability to get started on this marvelous machine.”
Darcy sighed. While he understood the obligation to keep acquaintances, it was always easier if one held affection for the persons involved. Sir Malcolm was difficult at best with his unrestrained opinions and open criticism of his son. Hopefully, they would not stay very long, but the last time Darcy traveled past Camberly Abbey, it appeared destitute. The Wainrights may well overstay their welcome.
“Let us hope they tire of us soon.”
“Indeed, good night dear brother.”
Darcy left his sister and sought his own bed. The master suite, once occupied by his parents lay empty. Not only could he not bear to use it, the adjoining bed chambers with a shared sitting room seemed cold and unwelcoming. Instead, he had offered Elizabeth her choice of suites, yet she had insisted upon moving into his existing chamber. The only accommodation made was to turn the valet’s room into a dressing area. Not only had it pleased her greatly, but Bindley, his valet, had been relocated to a much larger suite of his own.
“You have long deserved this. I have been shortsighted in seeing to it before now,” Darcy had said by way of apology, but the ancient servant had simply smiled his thanks and removed his belongings. If the master of the house wanted to be close to his bride, who was he to interfere?
Needing sleep, Darcy eased open the door to avoid waking Elizabeth, but he was surprised to also find her also awake. At first, she did not appear to hear his movements as a large sketchbook filled her hands. On the exposed page, a half completed drawing of the church tower at Lambton awaited her attentions. It was exceptionally well done, but there would be time to discuss her ability, right now, Darcy knew his time of hiding his actions had come to an end. However, Elizabeth was not as nearly aimable to late night interruptions as Georgiana. Instead, a look of disappointment crossed her features as he froze in the doorway.
“I thought you would be long asleep…”
“As you can see, I am not…wondering where my husband wanders off to in the night has the oddest effect upon my ability to rest.”
“I am sorry, but I did not want to trouble you.”
“Trouble me with what? What is so important that it must be conducted during the wee hours? If you had expected a wife that would turn a blind eye to the strange habits of her husband than you have mistaken me greatly.”
“Elizabeth… I… its not that simple, but I assure you there is nothing for which you need worry.”
“I can decide that for myself.”
“Of course, but I must be allowed to explain.”
“That is the very reason I am still awake.”
Darcy pulled a small stool over to the sofa and sat at Elizabeth’s feet. Taking one of her hands in his, he spent the better part of an hour explaining the reason for his nocturnal activity.
“It all began generations ago, during my grandfather’s time. Although appearances may suggest otherwise, many of the grand estates in England are in danger of ruin. At first, with the enclosure laws protecting private property, many landowners saw it as an opportunity to keep control of vast tracts of land. Unfortunately, this was detrimental to the tenant farmers. No longer could they run cattle or sheep on common land, the fences kept everyone to their own lands. Without the income from the animals, there was nothing to keep them solvent during lean years. The landlords still demanded payment and taxes only increased. Later, new devices were created to make the farms more efficient, but this only reduced the need for laborers. With no work, most young people headed for the cities for factory jobs. As a landowner, it became necessary to embrace new technology in order to stay afloat. Those who did not, clinging to the old ways soon found themselves forced to sell off plots of land. Camberly Abbey is one such place. When you meet Sir Malcolm, you will understand what I mean.”
“What has all of this to do with Pemberley? With us?”
“Pemberley, and the Darcy family, have chosen to invest carefully in new devices to make work more efficient. There is a large workshop in the cellars. It can only be accessed through the library and from a hidden door leading outside under the terrace. It was from there that I had come the evening you were looking for me in the hall.”
“A workshop? Of what sort? I smelled something like burning on your hair and clothes. What was it?”
“Probably oil from a steam engine. Steam has been the lifeline of Pemberley.”
“How? Why is this not known? Surely this sort of thing need not be a secret…not from me. I am your wife! Am I not to be trusted?”
Darcy flinched as the tone of her voice flung accusations well deserved. He had lied to her, for that he could not forgive himself.
~8~
The next day…
Elizabeth woke much later than she had planned, but it had not been until nearly five in the morning that sleep had finally claimed her. Even then, despite of… or perhaps because of Darcy’s presence, her dreams had been filled with images of herself, running headlong into an unknown. In rising, she could not shake the visions as they refused to fade with the mid-morning sun. But at least she was alone with her thoughts. Laughing slightly at the irony of being relieved that her husba
nd had already dressed, she chose her apparel carefully. An old dress, made of sturdy stuff more appropriate to a gardener than lady of the house; it would serve well if what Darcy had told her was true. Did her husband really spend hours, closeted away creating devices to earn a living? While this was unusual, it was not an idea that offended her. On the contrary, despite her comfortable upbringing, Elizabeth had always admired those who chose a profession. Why did others, albeit more moneyed persons, look down upon such activities.
“It would make the tenants nervous to see me working. They would fear that Pemberley was in danger of financial collapse. So many of the surrounding estates have had to make considerable reductions over the years. Seeing an idle landowner causes just as much comfort as envy.”
This was the excuse Darcy had given for keeping his occupations a secret. But while that was all well and good for outsiders, she was his wife. He should not fear telling her anything. It was a rationalization that admittedly, Elizabeth had not followed herself. More than once, she had kept her sketchbooks hidden from his eyes. Embarrassment, or patronizing false appreciation, what would his reaction be? Either way… the thought had been unbearable. But that was now over, she had shown him her drawings, but his response had been curious. It was almost as if he were seeing something beyond what she had created, but what? As the hour was late, she had not probed for a further explanation, placing the book and pencils in her desk to hopefully be forgotten. What mattered most was that this morning, she would be given the grand tour of the mysterious Pemberley mechanics. Finishing her toilette, she went below to find both Darcy and Georgiana, dressed much like herself, finishing breakfast.
Preserving Pemberley Page 3