Darcy sighed, and worried about the animal exposed to Henry Wainright’s heavy hand. As a child, the man had never spared the crop, seeming to take pleasure in the pain he inflicted. This memory must have shown upon his features, for Georgiana laid a comforting hand upon his arm and continued with a smirk of satisfaction.
“Don’t worry, I told the groom that only Caesar or Romulus were to be saddled.”
“You really do hate him!”
Seeing Elizabeth’s quizzical look, Darcy elaborated.
“Those two horses are demons incarnate, prone to bucking and biting when anyone tries to ride them. I only keep them to prevent unsuspecting fools from certain death. Poor Henry won’t manage to keep his seat for more than ten minutes, a sight I would not mind observing.”
“You two are positively terrible!”
“Yes, but it was necessary. He won’t be back until tomorrow, that leaves us plenty of privacy. Word was sent to Mr. Trevithick, he should be here any moment.”
As if on cue, a sharp knock, consisting of two short raps, followed by three more, was heard on the door leading to the gardens. Sliding back the bolt, Darcy admitted the engineer. Bleary eyed with fatigue, the man smiled with relief as he thanked them again.
“My Jane is absolutely delighted with the cottage, and the children look forward to going to school. I cannot say how much I appreciate this opportunity.”
“Well, if it is a success, we shall all be thankful. Let us get started, but first, may I introduce my wife, Elizbeth?”
“Mrs. Darcy… so pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Elizabeth… if we are to be working together regularly, I prefer the less formal.”
“As you wish… please call me Richard.”
After the short pleasantries, Richard Trevithick produced another crude drawing of his horseless carriage. This one had considerable modifications to the original shown to Darcy a fortnight ago.
“I have added an additional area for luggage, as well as some improvements to the steam piping, including a protective barrier between the actual engine and driver’s compartment. In the past, severe burns have been sustained. I should like to avoid that.”
Elizabeth studied the drawing carefully. It was difficult to imagine a completed carriage from the rough outlines.
“May I?” she requested while reaching for a charcoal pencil.
“Of course,” the engineer replied and watched as she replicated the design in fine form, adding the needed details in expert dimensions, pausing only to clarify specific devices and their function. After a few minutes, she was pleased with her results.
“Is this more of what you had in mind?” Elizabeth asked.
She had taken the boxy exterior from a simple square to sweeping curves, reminiscent of a sleigh. The engine, carefully concealed by a sloping cover with openings for necessary piping appeared slightly feral, yet mesmerizing. Amazed by the transformation, despite its simplicity, a broad smile erupted on everyone’s face in appreciation.
“Darcy… I was not aware that your new bride had experience in mechanics.”
“Nor I,”
“I don’t, but I am fond of drawing… and, if you wish to market this thing to the public, certain other aspects must be considered.”
“Such as?”
“Well, it may sound silly, but it must be aesthetically pleasing and comfortable. As one who has suffered travel in a public coach, comfort is paramount to success when alternatives to the norm are considered. All the speed in the world will not matter if it is a burden to bear as well as ugly. Imagine a family outing… or a leisurely drive. Fashion may be frivolous, but it sells.”
“Practical and talented… you are a wonder Mrs. Darcy, but that is out of my realm of talents. I am an engineer only.”
“People buy what they desire without a care to cost, the price of necessities are what is quibbled.”
“Then we shall endeavor to make it both,” Darcy insisted, much to the agreement of all.
*****
By the time the hour struck half past four, the sounds of the household above reminded the Darcy’s that they must cease their labors. However, all were pleased by the progress of the evening. While Elizabeth worked on completing a set of sketches for both mechanical and visual appeal, the others sorted through the array of supplies in search of materials.
“We need more copper pipe and metal sheeting… and perhaps an old carriage to modify for passengers,” Darcy said as he made estimates of cost in his head.
“I have connections to suppliers that can acquire these things, but I fear that most are closer to the coastline. Shipbuilders use the same items and are less likely to ask questions.”
“Privacy is desired, but I trust your judgement,” Darcy replied as they returned to the library and shut the entrance to the cellar, concealing their exit. Here, he withdrew a sum of money and handed it to Trevithick.
“This should cover materials… and your time.”
Trevithick took the roll of notes, and without counting, tucked it into his coat pocket. The Darcy’s had a reputation for being more than generous, and he nodded his thanks, bidding them all a good night.
“Or shall we say good mooring?” Elizabeth jested as the first rays of sun broke through the library curtains.
“So, it seems! I will send word when I have gathered all the necessary items, should not be more than a few days?”
After shaking hands once again, Trevithick departed, leaving the Darcy’s to take their much-needed sleep. Edwin Stokes, from his post at the door, nodded solemnly as the engineer took his leave. At this hour, no one thought to conceal his departure, because to the rest of the household, the night had passed like any other, in a state of silence. It was only the returning personage of Henry Wainright, cursing as his borrowed horse nipped at his leg, noticed the stranger emerging from Pemberley. What sort of visitor, dressed as more like a field hand, dared use the front entrance at this hour? Shrugging, he brushed off the oddity as a servant, muttering his discontent to the empty morning air.
“Probably forgot to clean the steps… sloppy housekeeping. Apparently, the Darcys are not as perfect as they pretend to be.”
However, this insult did not go unheard. As if directly affronted by this slur, the stallion shook his mane in contempt and promptly bit the offender again.
~11~
Henry Wainright’s return to Pemberley went unnoticed as he circled the house to the stables. Dismounting, he dodged the teeth of his mount once more before handing the reins to a sleepy stable boy. He had not wanted to return at all, much preferring to sleep in the small chamber off his workshop. Having fitted the space with modest conveniences, it was far more comfortable than the drafty stones of Camberly. However, that could all change if he played his cards right. At first, he had seen his father’s sudden illness as the greatest inconvenience. While he knew that a marriage between himself and Miss Darcy would please the old man, Henry could not fathom how such a miracle was to be achieved. Not only did Georgiana rebuff every attempt he had made to engage her attentions, the mannerisms she displayed were ones of tolerant contempt. She hated him. Having expected such displays of arrogance from Fitzwilliam Darcy, yet denied by a reception that was nothing but cordial, it was irritating that his sister bordered upon rudeness. Was he without appeal? His appearance was considered handsome by many. His physique well defined and proportioned. And… he would inherit the baronetcy from his father. Despite his limited income, what was there not to want? A woman could do far worse, yet Georgiana Darcy was singularly disinterested. Only an infatuation with another could be the cause, but to his knowledge, no other man pursued Miss Darcy. Sighing, Henry reentered the house through a small side door. Although, generally reserved for servants, it allowed for his arrival to go unseen. Which was a good thing, for his clothing was less than that of a gentleman. Having immediately taken advantage of the offer of a horse, he had traveled the score of miles to ______ton, where his workshop wa
s located. Inside, it was well ordered with various devices in the prototype phase. There was a steam powered stove that made his tea and boiled dinner in a fraction of the time required by a cook. It had originally been designed for heating bathwater, but its bulky size had made it impractical. There were also small-scale locomotives. Of these, Henry was most proud, but had yet to overcome the problem of excessive weight. His competitors had run into the same issues, as the weigh of the passenger cars often crushed the tracking. But it was this type of propulsion that fascinated him. Unfortunately, it was also the most expensive, and that was his greatest obstacle… money. More than once, he had sought financial investors, but the response was the same.
“I would love to assist, but what practical use does this have?”
No one wanted machines that eased servant burden. There was a glut of poverty-stricken people, willing to work for pennies and a roof. Unless he came up with a marketable idea soon, Henry would join them. At present, Camberly Abbey earned only enough to pay the taxes upon the land and a few hundred pounds for the basest of existence. Marriage to Georgiana Darcy would definitely solve that problem, but the idea of being saddled with a wife who disliked him was not appealing. Besides, he favored women who knew their place, Georgiana was always outspoken, especially in matters of science and engineering. What could a girl possibly know of such things? It would be better to keep her mouth shut and stick to pouring tea. The new Mrs. Darcy appeared to be that sort of female. She had seen to his every comfort, and not uttered a word inappropriate to her sex. Yet, there was something very alluring to her face and person, no doubt the very reason Darcy married her. No, there would be no delusions of grandeur from Elizabeth Darcy…and, she was physically to his tastes. Georgiana was a mere child in comparison. But, marry her he would, even if it meant compromise. After all, what was to stop a man…even a married one, from seeking a bit of amusement on the side?
Now, as he entered the chamber designated for his use, Henry removed clothing he wore. There were traces of oil and they smelled a bit like burnt toast, all mixed in with sweaty horseflesh. If he were to convince Miss Darcy that his affections were genuine, he must appear the perfect gentleman to win her trust…and that of her brother.
*****
However, despite his efforts to be presentable, Henry Wainright was the sole person present in the morning room. An array of dishes sat covered in their warming trays, but despite the hour nearing ten in the morning and his dalliance in eating, he remained alone. Where were the Darcys? Was it their norm to lie abed for so long? The idea of such idleness filled Henry with jealousy and he threw down his napkin in contempt. Well, if the Darcys saw fit to waste a day, he did not. This was a perfect opportunity to have a look around unescorted. It had been some years since he had been to Pemberley, and a bit of exploration was in order. But first, he would make the obligatory visit to his father. If the old man were to succumb to his illness, he must appear the doting son.
After asking a maid for direction, Henry arrived at the sickroom. Few bedchambers were located on the lower floor, and the one appropriated for his father was as far from the main reception rooms as possible. “Out of sight, out of mind,” he muttered before entering the darkened chamber. Despite the mid-morning hour, heavy curtains had been drawn to shut out the brilliance of the sun. If not for the sound of voices, Henry would have believed he had entered a tomb.
“It is good to see that you are feeling better, sir. You gave us all a terrible fright,” comforted the soft voice of Georgiana Darcy.
“Hate to be such a bother, but yes, I do believe that I am returning to my old self.” Sir Malcolm replied, but the weakness of his tone suggested otherwise.
“He won’t be if young ladies persist in distraction. It is time for your medicine Sir Malcolm and then a bit of rest.”
Georgiana did not argue with the nurse’s orders, she had only wanted to check on the invalid’s progress herself. Unable to sleep after the night spent in the workshop, she had wandered the house for nearly an hour before remembering their ailing guest. Now, pleased that his death was not imminent, she rose and kissed the old man’s forehead before turning to leave, nearly bumping into Henry as he stood unnoticed in the doorway.
“Do as Nurse says father,” he agreed, but there was no response. All present knew that Sir Malcolm feigned sleep, but if it prevented distress, all the better. At least the appearance of Henry’s concern would be noted by more than one person. In truth, he prayed for the old man’s demise.
“I see that at least one Darcy has not chosen to sleep the day away…I had hoped to beg the borrow of a book or two from your brother.”
“Ah... well… he and Elizbeth are newly married… for that allowances can be made, don’t you agree?”
To this logic, Henry could not argue. Had he a wife as comely as Mrs. Darcy, he might be persuaded to waste a bit of time as well. But, he had not such luxuries.
“I had forgotten, but perhaps I too shall know such happiness.”
The subtlety of his suggestion was not lost on Georgiana and she reddened slightly at the idea, hastily returning to the subject of a book.
“I am sure Fitzwilliam would not mind lending something from the library. Have you a particular favorite? We have had a recent delivery of the latest novels. Mr. Shelley’s St. Irvyne is a favorite of mine. It is positively terrifying.”
Henry forced an indulgent smile, but shook his head. Such drivel was well and good for idle heiresses, but not for the likes of him.
“It sounds lovely, but perhaps another time. I was hoping for an academic journal. If I could look at what he has, my choice would be easier.”
Georgiana shrugged, and led the way to the great Pemberley library. In truth, she could not imagine a person like Henry Wainright sympathizing with the plight of an outcast. She had simply wanted to gauge his reaction, but it was disappointingly polite. Upon entering the chamber, Georgiana watched as Henry slowly wandered the glass enclosed lower bookshelves before stopping in front of the one that contained a number of volumes on social subjects, including Robert Owen’s A New View of Society. It was this particular book that Henry settled.
“Does your brother advocate Mr. Owen’s ideas?” he probed, wondering how a book on communal living managed to find itself in the library of a wealthy landowner.
“You must ask him yourself, I have yet to read it.”
“Ah yes... you prefer to be frightened when you read. Are you familiar with the works of Mrs. Roche and Mrs. Radcliffe?”
“Oh yes, The Mysteries of Udolpho used to give me night terrors as a child! Fitzwilliam nearly censored my reading after that one.”
“As a good brother should. Young ladies cannot be protected enough from the cruelties that exist in the world. A place of safety and comfort is what they require… as you have in Pemberley.”
Georgiana did not know how to reply to this sudden expression of personal opinion. Despite its awkward nature, her attentions had been previously captured by the discovery that the doorway leading to the cellar workshop had not been closed properly. If Henry drew too close to that area of the chamber, he would clearly see the irregularity in the wall and surely question her. Swallowing her pride, as well as the bile that threatened to rise, she laid a hand upon Henry Wainright’s arm. The intimacy of her touch giving the desired distraction as she lied smoothly.
“I am fortunate in having been raised at Pemberley, but a lady of my age longs to be mistress of her own home. Now that my brother has married, my place here has changed.”
To this declaration, Henry raised and eyebrow of interest, and placed his own hand over hers.
“I had the impression that Mrs. Darcy was the best of ladies.”
“Oh, she is! I could not ask for a better sister, but Pemberley will never be the same, and that is as it should be. But there is nothing to be done here, Pemberley has stood unchanged for generations. I am simply one more fixture without purpose. I find that I lean more towards a place
that I can make my own…with the right person of course.”
“Of course, a person must choose wisely when their future is to be determined.”
“It appears that we are of a similar mindset.”
“Indeed…would you care for a turn in the gardens? I suddenly have a great desire to be out of doors? Mr. Owen’s ideas on society can wait.”
“That would please me greatly.”
~12~
Georgiana was forced to endure the unwanted attentions of Henry Wainright for nearly two hours before she begged excusal. He had babbled on every inane subject in the world, boring her to tears. Eventually, she made the excuse of needing to assist Elizabeth in the selection of a lady’s maid and was able to seek the sanctuary of her bedchamber. Having been awake for nearly twenty hours, Georgiana was positively exhausted and collapsed, fully dressed onto her bed, the doorway to the cellar completely forgotten. It was not until several hours later, bathed and refreshed, that she returned to the library. This time, Elizabeth and her brother were both present, he reading the London newspapers, and she sketching his portrait.
“Sit still and stop shaking the papers. How am I to achieve a respectable likeness if you keep fidgeting?” Elizabeth chided.
“That is the idea my dear,” he replied, hiding his face behind the front pages.
“You are impossible!”
“Am I? I cannot wait until it is your turn. Eventually, we must have your portrait painted. The gallery is incomplete without the newest Darcy.”
Elizabeth grimaced and turned her attentions back to her work. Of the many new things that her marriage had brought, traditions, especially old ones, were the hardest to accommodate. It was a strange thing to contemplate, that long after she was dust to this world, her image would yet be hanging for future Darcys to contemplate. What would they say about her? However, it was a thought that needed to wait as Georgiana arrived breathless to their company.
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