Preserving Pemberley

by Carrie Mollenkopf

  “Oh, there you are,” Georgiana said shyly. Darcy had admitted that his own sister was an essential contributor to the innovations constructed in the cellar. More jealous than surprised, Elizabeth had to congratulate Georgiana for putting on such a façade of ignorance in the presence of others. How stupid she must seem in comparison.

  “We haven’t as much time today as I hoped. Sir Malcolm is due to arrive by tea time… and trust me, it will require all of us to keep him occupied,” Darcy said as he finished his tea.

  “Perhaps I should have said it was inconvenient?” Elizabeth ventured.

  “It would not have mattered. He would have simply shown up unannounced. It is better to have warning, especially if Henry will be accompanying him,” Georgiana grumbled.

  “I thought you rather liked him?” Darcy teased.

  “Ugh! He used to put ink in my hair! Besides, he does not care for music, that is an opinion upon which I cannot bend. It places him hardly above a baboon in my estimation.”

  “Perhaps he has changed since his return from university? I have occasionally toyed with asking his advice on some of our machines.”

  “Please don’t… I should be forced to keep silent the entire time. In some ways he is just as old fashioned as his father… especially towards women.”

  Elizabeth listened to the exchange, gathering as much information as possible. It was a rare man that approved of higher academia for ladies, and it was best to be forewarned of any potential conflict. Finishing the meager breakfast so as to not delay the tour, she put down her fork and rose.

  “Shall we? I should like to see everything before returning to polite parlor chatter.”

  *****

  Leaving the breakfast room behind, the trio entered the magnificent Pemberley library. Having been built nearly two centuries ago, it boasted cedar lined shelves to deter insects and a two-story catwalk that wrapped the entire western wall. Opposite, an immense fireplace, flanked by deeply padded chairs, beckoned the reader to sit for hours in comfort. However, this was ignored as Darcy went to the corner of the chamber designated for his personal desk. Behind it, the wall was bare, save for a portrait of Karsten Darcy, the designer of Pemberley. It was here, that Elizabeth watched her husband reach for a hidden lever, disguised in an alcove large enough to accommodate an oil lamp. When pulled forward, the entire wall panel swung inwards, revealing a stone stair leading down into darkness.

  “My! How positively medieval!” Elizabeth exclaimed with true enthusiasm. Longbourn possessed noting so fantastic as this.

  “Not quite,” Darcy replied with a smile, “But I have heard stories of this place being used to hide priests and others seeking to escape various authorities. Apparently, not all of my ancestors chose to stay on the right side of the law.”

  “Priests?”

  “Yes, the French line of the family were staunch Catholics in a time when such beliefs ended badly. There is still a small grotto down there for worship.”

  “How fascinating. What other secrets does this family possess?”

  This time Georgiana answered, her guilt over keeping secrets having passed. “Not much really, but I shall be happy to show you the family crypt and other old stuff. When one is surrounded by such all the time, it tends to be forgotten.”

  Taking her hand, Darcy led Elizabeth down the stairs after Georgiana, who carried a single lamp.

  “Only the stair does not have lighting, but gas lines have been installed everywhere else.”

  “It does keep it secret.”

  “It is necessary. With all the new patent laws, there is a great risk of theft. On some of the projects we work with others of a similar mind. They get the credit for the invention, but Pemberley receives financial incentives. This way, privacy is maintained, yet both parties benefit. I… that is we…have been asked to assist an old friend of my father’s on a new venture. It can be quite expensive, but if it works, the profits could be immense.”

  By now, they had reached the landing, stopping for a moment before the marble statue of an unknown saint. Here, Darcy lit one of a dozen small candles and gave the icon a short bow.

  “A practice left over from childhood. Father always said we could do with a bit of divine assistance. But before the gas lamps, this kept us from bumping into things.”

  Out of habit, Georgiana began lighting the elevated run of lamps. Soon, the room was flooded with light, revealing a most peculiar set of surroundings. Once her eyes adjusted, Elizabeth peered from one object to the next, each one appearing more exotic than the last, yet all were comprised of copper and glass.

  “What are they?”

  “Variations of steam engines. My hope is to replace all of Pemberley’s heating with steam. It provides the most soothing warmth, but there are considerable logistical problems with a house of this age. How to install piping without destroying its original beauty has been the greatest challenge.”

  Elizabeth only half listened as she wandered from object to object. Some appeared to be in greater stages of completion than others. In one corner there lay a heap of what appeared to be discarded materials. A few were bent in strange shapes, while others appeared melted.

  “Those are our failures. Steam can be rather dangerous if not managed properly, it is something still being developed. When I was sixteen, a small fire singed off my eyebrows and much of my hair. It was weeks before I set foot in public, a reminder to take caution.”

  For the next part of an hour, Elizabeth listened silently as each Darcy pointed out various contraptions and their intended uses. When Georgiana took her turn, Elizabeth felt her husband’s eyes upon her, seeking her thoughts, but she kept quiet. Although positively enraptured by the discovery, she was still irritated by his reluctance to share it earlier. Deciding that a bit of patience would serve him well, Elizabeth clasped her hands behind her back and said nothing, features impassive as the tour ended at the heavily bolted doors leading to the gardens.

  “This entry is hidden by a cluster of rhododendrons. The gardeners are told to never trim it. Only Mrs. Reynolds and Edwin, the footman you met the other night, know about this room, and they would never tell anyone. Their loyalty to Pemberley is without question…Elizabeth, what do you think of it?”

  Pursing her lips in a mock frown, Elizabeth did her best to pretend deep contemplation, but it was to no effect. Eventually her pleased smile won out as she gave her opinion.

  “So… what is this next grand idea and how can I be of assistance?”

  ~9~

  Unfortunately, Elizabeth was forced to wait another two full days before any work could commence. By tea time, the Darcy household was appropriately dressed to receive visitors and sat idly in the parlor awaiting their arrival. A suite of rooms had been prepared and dinner ordered. To all appearances, it would be a pleasant visit. Only Georgiana showed any distress, and that she attempted to hide by pounding furiously upon the pianoforte with the assistance of one of Mr. Beethoven’s symphonies.

  “Have a care that you do not damage the instrument,” Darcy admonished gently, but knew that if she did, Georgiana was equally capable of its repair. Ignoring him, she continued her play, picking up the tempo more than was called for. Amused, Elizabeth knew that Mr. Henry Wainright was the cause of her dismay, but did not believe that it was due to simple childhood teasing. Had Georgiana harbored an affection for their neighbor? This would have been before Wickham’s attempted elopement. Had Georgiana accepted Wickham’s advances because they had been rejected by another? At just thirteen years of age at the time, she would have been deemed far to young for pursuit by any rational man. Thinking it best to reserve her judgement, Elizabeth resolved to be as cordial as possible until the man himself proved unworthy. With this promise in mind, she was pleased when the arrivals were announced, because, simply upon first impressions, Henry Wainright was all that was hoped for in a country gentleman. His father however, was a different man entirely. If one was not aware of the relation, it could be assumed
they were complete strangers. In contrast to Sir Malcolm’s small stature and hawk like features, Henry was a fair and well-built man in his late twenties, appearing to favor out of doors pursuits as evidenced by his browned skin and sun-bleached hair. Taller than average, he strode across the chamber, shaking Darcy’s hand with more vigor than was generally accepted. It was as if he were assessing a measure of physical strength in his host, before turning his gaze upon the ladies. It was there that his countenance changed remarkedly. Elizabeth could call it nothing but arrogance as a sneer, barely masqued as a smile looked upon them. Suppressing a shudder, she immediately concurred with Georgiana’s opinion of the man. He was positively revolting and Elizabeth forced herself to suppress a flinch when his lips grazed the back of her hand in greeting.

  “The new Mrs. Darcy? Well, I must say, he has done well indeed… and who is this enchanting creature? Don’t tell me… Georgiana? Whatever has happened to your plaits?”

  “Mr. Wainright, Welcome to Pemberley.” Elizabeth replied with all the politeness she could muster as she extracted her hand. This overture, not lost upon Darcy, was watched with tolerance as he rolled his eyes behind the man’s back, but intervention, while not needed, could neither be rendered as Sir Malcolm Wainright cleared his throat loudly.

  “Please excuse the forwardness of my son. I fear that I have been remiss in the instruction of manners since the passing of my wife. Perhaps time in polite company will rectify that deficit.”

  Sending his father a sharp look, Henry placed an appropriate distance between himself and the female Darcys, thankfully holding his tongue in the process.

  “Sir Malcolm, welcome! It has been far to long. Why, we have not had the pleasure of your company since?...”

  “Since the passing of your own father. I do miss him, but my memories of our friendship should not prevent my continuing ours, especially when there is the happy occasion of your marriage.”

  “May I present my wife, Elizabeth, formerly of the Bennets of Longbourn.”

  “Longbourn you say? Near Meryton?”

  “The same,” Elizabeth said, being immediately far more pleased with the father than the son.

  “Would your mother be Margaret Bennet?”

  “Yes… are you acquainted?”

  “Oh, many years ago, before my own marriage. Your mother was quite the belle of the season, I see a bit of the girl I remember in you.”

  To this remark, Elizabeth only nodded, watching Darcy for any reaction, but was denied. Any resemblance to her mother was indeed in appearance only, and time had erased much of that. Fortunately, the old man did not wish to elaborate upon the memory and gave his full attentions to where Georgiana stood, wearing a teasing smile. This genuine affection was all that it took for the old man to extend his arms forward to embrace the little girl, now young lady, of which he had been so fond.

  “Ah, my Georgie… all grown up.”

  “I am afraid so.”

  “What a beauty you have become!”

  To this Georgiana only blushed, accentuating the accuracy of his assessment, but was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of tea. The concentration on their cups provided an excellent distraction from the renewal of the acquaintance, but eventually time wore the company thin. After making all the expected courtesies and conversation that subjects such as weather and mutual connections would allow, an awkward silence fell upon the group, resulting in a heavy sigh from Sir Malcolm. While he had idly dreamed that his son might marry Georgiana, it was now obvious that it was a fool’s errand. Whatever closeness of acquaintance the families once possessed, it had been far to long to simply take up where one had left it. The feeling of disappointment sent a pain through his chest, forcing a wince to cross his face.

  “Sir? Are you well?” Elizabeth asked gently as the old man across from her replaced his cup in its saucer. The gnarled fingers trembled slightly as the porcelain clinked audibly sending remnants of tea sloshing over the edge.

  “I…I am suddenly quite tired. Perhaps the journey was a bit more taxing than I realized. It has been some time since I have ventured so far.”

  “Oh, father has the occasional spell. He will be right as rain in a moment or so.” Henry said casually with complete disregard for the flushed features now claiming his sire.

  “I don’t think so… Please, allow for a lie down, while a doctor is fetched.” Darcy agreed and rose to provide assistance.

  “Don’t allow an old man to trouble you,” Henry insisted with dismissal, but was denied as his father’s face grew an odd shade of red, before going ghastly white.

  “I must insist,” Darcy demanded with irritation at Henry’s lack of compassion.

  “As you will,”

  During this assessment, Sir Malcolm struggled to speak but simply gasped as words escaped him in the effort to breath. The pain in his chest had increased, causing him to slump in his chair with eyes closed. This movement was all that remained to convince the Darcy’s to take immediate action. Ignoring the younger Wainright, orders were given to remove the older man to a downstairs chamber, where he was made comfortable until a professional medical opinion could be had. Fretful by the experience, Georgiana refused to leave Sir Malcolm’s side, much to the irritation of Henry, who chose to await the arrival of the doctor while sipping sherry. This strangeness of behavior was not unnoticed by Darcy and Elizabeth, but at the immediate, all concerns were focused upon their elderly guest.

  *****

  By that same evening, Sir Malcolm had been examined and pronounced to have had a mild apoplectic episode. The attack, while frightening to those who had witnessed it, was one of many experienced by the old baronet.

  “One of the symptoms of age… and substandard living conditions. I have often chastised him for not allowing some basic creature comforts to that relic he calls a home.” Dr. Abernathy had said as he packed his bag, leaving instructions for care.

  “Keep him warm and fed bland food. It may be some weeks before he feels up to doing anything past sitting quietly. Even then, he may relapse. Another fit could be the end at his age. I can arrange for a nurse, but removal back to Camberly would surely mean death. It is no place for an invalid.”

  “He shall stay here for as long as needed, but a trained nurse would be welcome.” Darcy agreed.

  “Will you inform his son? I presume Henry is aware?”

  “Yes, but he does not seem particularly affected,” Elizabeth added.

  “Not surprised. It is fortunate that Sir Malcolm has the Darcys for friends.”

  To this, Darcy and Elizabeth did not comment, but thanked the doctor who promised to return in a week to check his patient’s progress. Instead, they waited for privacy to discuss the event.

  “Of course, he must stay here, but what of Henry? He is a most ungrateful son… and to be honest, he makes me uneasy. I see why Georgiana dislikes him so,” Elizabeth said sadly.

  “I could toss him out, but he might insist upon taking Sir Malcolm as well. As his only relative, he would be in his rights, even if it meant the old man’s demise. Perhaps it is best to keep him where he can be watched…at least until Sir Malcolm is well enough to leave.”

  “No, you are quite right. Knowing where the devil is gives one the advantage. Now …who is to tell Georgiana that she must suffer his company indefinitely?”

  ~10~

  With the unexpected addition to the household, including the arrival of a very competent nurse two days later, it was nearly a week before any work could begin on Richard Trevithick’s horseless carriage. Despite the exhaustion of all parties, it was agreed to meet in the library near midnight on Sunday evening.

  “By then, everyone should be long asleep, save Nurse Malloy. That woman never sleeps, but they are housed in the far wing, and should not be disturbed by any noise we make.” Georgiana explained when the arrangement was finally settled. All the Darcys welcomed a relief from their houseguests and would happily forgo sleep in pursuit of new innovations.
Sir Malcolm, despite his requiring constant care, was little bother to anyone. He had slept for much of the day, with brief hours of lucidity in which he lamented the fuss caused on his health.

  “I shall be out of your way in no time. Hate to be such a bother. Getting old is not recommended one bit!” he grumbled, but relished the attention. Even Nurse Kathleen Malloy, a stout Irishwoman of middle years, had taken an immediate liking to him despite her brusque efficiency.

  “Well sir, the alternative is to die, and you won’t be doing any of that nonsense on my watch!” she insisted, tucking the counterpane around his thin shoulders before shooing all visitors away.

  “He won’t be improving without his rest. Surely there are other things upon which you can find amusement?”

  Darcy and Elizabeth had found her approach to be the perfect medicine and did as ordered, but it had not been so easy to be rid of Henry Wainright. Despite their offers of whatever diversions Pemberley could provide, the man seemed to follow them everywhere.

  “I half expect to find him attending me in the privy!” Darcy said with exasperation as the trio made their way down the stone steps to the workshop.

  “Well at least he is not plying you with compliments about the housekeeping and décor. Mrs. Reynolds is so efficient that she hardly requires my input, let alone assistance and the reception rooms have not been altered. My assumption is that he is simply curious.”

  “Nosy is the right word! At least he pays you complements, all I hear are criticisms. ‘My dear Georgiana, too much time on the pianoforte is not beneficial...and, scientific books are not appropriate for ladies’… he makes me want to throw something.”

  “Well, you did manage to elude him.”

  “Yes, but that was only with the offer of a horse. It seems that riding is the way to dispose of him, too bad he will return.”