Preserving Pemberley

by Carrie Mollenkopf

  “Oh! I am glad that you are in here. I feared to find Henry Wainright.”

  “Whatever for?” Darcy inquired, laying down his papers. It was one thing to offer hospitality, but quite another for non-family to enter a private domain. Libraries were considered out of bounds for guests unless accompanied.

  “He asked to borrow a book, but when I came in, the door to the cellar was open. Not much, but enough to be noticed. I had to distract him.”

  Rising, Darcy went to the concealed passage. Indeed, it was ajar. Pushing on the doorway, it required significant effort to close. Frowning, he pulled the lever that served to open it, but found that this was difficult as well. Forcing his fingers between the decorative trim work, eventually the door swung open, but it was clearly impaired.

  “The recent rains have caused some swelling in addition to the age of the hinges. I must see about repairing it immediately. Richard should have the supplies we need by the end of the week. I should hate to be forced to use the garden entrance. Until then, I suggest we keep to the sitting room. I will lock the door and let Mr. Stokes keep watch. No one need enter, not even for routine cleaning.”

  “You make it sound like what we are doing is somehow illegal. Is it really necessary to be so clandestine? What difference would it make if you were known to ‘tinker about’?” Elizabeth asked.

  “It is perfectly legal, but people have been known to do terrible things if the possibility of great wealth is involved. I do not trust Henry Wainright, and as long as he is a guest at Pemberley, our work must be kept private. This is Richard’s idea, and I would not have it stolen. “

  “Surely he would not sink so low?”

  “Unfortunately, it has been my experience that he would and worse. Even when we were at university, there were rumors of cheating. Never proven, but gossip does not begin without a cause.”

  Elizabeth nodded and gathered her drawing materials in preparation to relocate. In the past, she had mistakenly placed her trust in George Wickham, thinking the best of him and the worst of Darcy. But she had been very wrong, so much so that scandal had nearly brought her family to ruin. It would not happen again. As she did so, Darcy turned to Georgiana, who stood trembling slightly. She too remembered the same Wickham, but would not be so easily fooled.

  “I hate to ask this of you, but it will only be temporary…”

  “Anything, I can do, I shall.”

  “Try to keep Henry occupied while he is here. I know you dislike him, but it will keep him distracted. Hopefully, Sir Malcolm has a speedy recovery.”

  Georgiana gave her agreement, but silently recoiled at the idea. If she feigned interest, would Henry expect more than just a turn about the garden?

  ~13~

  By the end of the week, Darcy had repaired the doorway leading from the library to the cellar. It had taken shaving away excess wood and the refitting of a new set of hinges, but to ensure greater security, he had also replaced the hidden lever with a false book, carved out of wood and wrapped in a leather cover. The words Fundamentals of Engineering by Leonardo Da Vinci, were written in gold leaf script. Darcy had designed it himself, feeling pleased with the effect and wondered if Mr. Da Vinci would approve. Now, it simply appeared to be just another shelf, filled with bound volumes and objects d’art. When he demonstrated the new device, it was to an excellent reception as they ventured downwards. This time, Edwin Stokes accompanied them to assist in transporting the much-needed supplies brought from London. Earlier that same day, just before dawn, they had moved the top to an old carriage through the garden entrance. It had been quite the maneuver to do so without causing mass destruction to the row of shrubs that concealed the doorway, but they had prevailed and now it rested to one side of the chamber, awaiting their attentions.

  “Put those over here,” Darcy gestured to the footman who stood blinking in bewilderment. Although he had been privy to the existence of the secret meetings, Edwin Stokes had no idea what they entailed. Now, as he stood in the room below the library, a sense of awe overcame him. Placing the parcels where directed, Edwin stood awkwardly as he awaited further instruction, but it seemed as if his presence was forgotten. The Darcys, eager to begin the first phase of construction, sorted various items as Richard Trevithick divided the work according to each person’s specific ability. It was only when they began to move the carriage, that Edwin was remembered.

  “Stokes? Still here? Give us a hand in turning this thing about.” Darcy requested.

  Eager to do something besides blacken boots and guard doorways, the young man did as bid while the ladies walked carefully around the structure. Mrs. Darcy drew in a large sketchbook the entire time, pausing only to have the gentlemen periodically move the structure. Eventually, she bid them to rest.

  “I think those are all I need for now, but I am having a bit of trouble seeing how this old thing will be suitable. How is it to be fastened to the wheels? It is in such a dilapidated state that I fear it will fall apart.”

  “Perhaps it is best to use it as a sort of pattern? Rather like making a dress with new materials from an old favorite?” Georgiana suggested.

  “Excellent suggestion, Miss Georgie. I felt the framework shift under my hands a bit too much for my liking. With a steam engine instead of a horse for propulsion, the carriage must be extremely sturdy,” Trevithick acknowledged.

  “What of a metal framework?” Darcy suggested as he peered at Elizabeth’s handiwork.

  “And covered by fashionable upholstery? I cannot imagine riding on bare metal…” Elizabeth murmured.

  “Nor, can I, but my skills with any sort of needlework is woefully nonexistent.”

  “It cannot be much different than taking apart a bonnet. With four sisters, we were often remaking things, including the occasional furnishings. My father’s favorite armchair has undergone numerous refurbishments.”

  “Then we leave it in your capable hands. Just tell us how we may be of assistance.”

  “Go and sort out your mechanical things. I am of no use in that sector. Once I make better drawings, then the frame can be constructed. It is only after everything else is complete that comfort can be considered.”

  With all present now in various occupations, Edwin Stokes cleared his throat audibly to draw attention to his presence.

  “If that is all sir, I would return to my post?”

  “Indeed. Thankyou for your assistance. We may require it again, but security is of the utmost importance.”

  “Of course, sir. None shall pass without your approval,” he said and bowed before returning above. As he reached the upper floor, the doorway concealing their presence allowed the barest amount of light to shine through a crack in the framework. Despite Mr. Darcy’s careful repair, the door had not sealed completely behind them. Through it, he could see movement and held his breath, squinting through the opening. At first, he did not recognize the intruder, but after a moment, his memory provided a name to the man. It was Henry Wainright, the son of Sir Malcolm, current invalid guest of the Darcys. In his hand, the man held a book, and appeared to be searching for the place in which it had originally rested. Finding the book’s home, Mr. Wainright looked casually about the room, this time, he took a leisurely pace, fingering the furnishings and examining various objects. While Edwin could not deny the dream to imagine what it would be like to possess a home such as Pemberley, he had never dared to be so familiar with another’s belongings. Unable to expose his location, he stood frozen, only able to mutely watch, as the man became brazen enough to sit behind the great leather topped desk and pull open the drawers. The desire to stop him was only overridden by the need to remain hidden. However, it would not be the presence of Edwin Stokes that would give Henry Wainright cause to become suspicious. Just as Wainright appeared to have tired from his prying, a loud noise from below, followed by the eruption of laughter, drew his immediate attention. Halting in his steps, Henry turned slowly about the room. His features clearly registered confusion to explain the
sounds he had heard. Another heavy thump, with muffled voices that seemed to be arguing, directed his senses to the panel that obscured the hidden doorway. But, instead of feeling the wall for entry, Mr. Wainright did the oddest thing, he started sniffing the air. Wrinkling his nose, he tipped his head sideways, as if also listening. The actions, while bizarre in nature, did not appear to reveal anything as Wainright shook his head in denial before squinting carefully at the very place where the footman hid. Placing his hand carefully on the interior doorknob, Edwin Stokes prepared for the entrance to be exposed at any moment and pulled heavily against the door. His heart was pounding, interfering with his ability to concentrate, but when silence resumed, Mr. Wainright only shook his head again. As if to clear his fancies, he took one last look before leaving the chamber. Once assured of being alone, Edwin Stokes emerged from the passage, beads of nervous perspiration running down his face. It had been far to close for comfort. In the morning, he would tell Mr. Darcy of the event, but until then he would be in the hall, standing sentry against any who dared to enter. Turning the key to the library door, he pocketed the item and took his place. No one would enter without the master’s permission.

  ~14~

  One month later…

  While progress on the horseless carriage went forward at a steady rate, it was not the only thing at Pemberley for which its residents found pleasure. The improving state of Sir Malcom Wainright had become such that he now felt able to take his evening meal with the family. The prospect of a full recovery was worthy of celebration and Elizabeth sought an audience with the cook to ensure an array of favorites to tempt even the poorest of appetites. The sooner he returned home, the better. The knowledge that they had been nearly discovered was only eclipsed by Henry’s courtship of Georgiana. Poor Georgiana had borne the brunt of the extended stay with being attentive to Henry in an effort to distract him. To any casual observer, it was a reciprocated affection that could lead to an excellent marriage. It was only when alone with Elizabeth, that Georgiana vented her frustrations.

  “That man is insufferable! No woman in her right mind would ever consider him. The very moment I mention any subject that is even the remotest masculine, he treats me as if I am some sort of simpleton. Even something so trivial as a walk in the garden becomes a debacle…all I did was demonstrate knowledge of Latin names for various plants. What is so odd about that?”

  “You do realize that it is rare for a lady to engage in such studies? Our own Queen Elizabeth, although better educated than most men, did not advocate such for women in general. You have been very fortunate to have been so indulged. There are many whose parents, despite having the means, do not see the benefit in educating their daughters beyond the running of a household.”

  “That is hardly a comfort, even if it is the norm.” Georgiana snapped with irritation, but immediately reddened when she realized the insult. But Elizabeth only smiled benignly, staring away at some far-off place.

  “Oh, do not feel for me. I fully realize my shortcomings in that respect.”

  “But you are the most intelligent of women. It is simply a lack of formal education. Pemberley has books enough to fill that deficit if you chose. Your skill with drawing is the equal to any draftsman, without it, our project would simply be a horrid box fixed to an engine. No one would ever want it, even if it flew to the moon. I will tolerate Henry Wainright if it means the uninterrupted success of our labors.”

  Elizabeth had not replied, but patted her hand and excused herself with the need to speak with cook. As she did so, Georgiana’s observations still rang in her ears. Despite her denial, Elizabeth was keenly aware that she was relatively ignorant in comparison. Since her arrival at Pemberley, she had taken every opportunity to make use of the great selection of books. However, if truth be told, there were areas of traditional academia that she simply had no interest. Latin and Greek were worthless without a purpose, and Elizabeth was a practical sort of person. Never the one to remain idle for hours, as was the practice of many ladies in her position, she found the time wasted. There were servants to do practically everything. Although her family had boasted the services of a cook, housekeeper and two maids, there was still plenty to do in a house containing five children and a limited income. When Darcy had suggested she engage a lady’s maid, Elizabeth had not known how to reply. Her sisters had always served that function for each other. Here… she was alone, save for Georgiana, who despite her advanced formal education, was sorely lacking in domestic skills of any kind. With no mother, and some years since having had a governess, Georgiana’s learning had taken a very masculine bent, to the sacrifice of the feminine. Perhaps it was time to bridge the gap for them both, especially when it came to Henry Wainright. For if he became a greater problem, delicate sensibilities prone to ladies were known to be a wonderful excuse for getting rid of unwanted suitors.

  *****

  While Elizabeth examined Georgiana’s dilemma, and prepared for Sir Malcolm’s exit from the sickroom, Henry Wainright felt less comforted by his father’s recovery. It would mean an end to their stay at Pemberley. Despite his initial displeasure of the visit, much had changed. Not only were his charms having the desired effect upon Miss Georgiana Darcy, there was something strange going on… something that the Darcys were taking great pains to hide. Ever since he had returned his borrowed book, Henry could not shake the idea that he had heard voices in the empty room. At first, he had brushed it off as imagination, and then later, as having had too much brandy. However, the feeling could not be erased by logical excuses. Always a person with an acuteness for the smallest detail, his keen sense of smell and hearing had only sharpened with his university studies. Machines were temperamental things, the barest alteration in how it sounded, or whiffs of fuel, however small, were often the first signs of trouble. The more he pondered the event, the more Henry was convinced that someone had been doing something they wanted to hide. As no servant would be awake at that hour, especially in the library, the only logical answer was Darcy. Unfortunately, the opportunity to be able to further investigate his suspicions had yet to be presented. Each time he had casually wandered past the library, the door had been locked. Whatever they were hiding, must be of significant importance, but he would find it, and use the secret to his own best advantage. Although feeling secure in Georgiana’s affections, a bit of blackmail never hurt to sweeten one’s actions. The more he thought about Miss Darcy’s thirty thousand pounds, the less obstacles he found to the possibility of their marriage. If he could manage to remain at Pemberley a while longer, surely a proposal would be accepted. Perhaps his father’s recovery was not so secure.

  By dinner time, Henry had hatched a plan to allow both Wainrights to extend their stay. As the family gathered in the parlor to await the bell, he excused himself upon the pretense of wanting to view the remnants of the evening sunset. As it had been an unusually fine day, he invited Georgiana to accompany him, knowing full well that she would refuse. As there were additional guests, it would not be appropriate for her to abandon them in favor of what would surely appear to be a romantic interest. He had not known the newcomers, introduced as a Mr. and Mrs. Trevithick, business associates of the Darcy’s. At first, the name had sounded oddly familiar, but once Henry had appraised their cheaply made attire and Cornish accents, he immediately dismissed the couple as being of no consequence. As a result, he had more time than expected to complete his mission, and no one to witness it. Elizabeth Darcy, although in possession of a witty disposition and comely figure, obviously held no cares when it came to who sat at her table. Mrs. Darcy had even invited his father’s nurse. At least that woman had seen the honor of the invitation and had changed from her starchy uniform. Now seated comfortably, with one eye upon his father, she was chatting like a peer with Mrs. Trevithick. It was galling, but he was in no position to challenge his hostess, especially when it presented an excellent opportunity.

  “I shall be just a moment then; I find fresh air to be the best compani
on to my digestion,” he said, but no one seemed to notice, returning to their conversations. Henry easily slipped away through the open veranda doors, only to reenter nearer his father’s chamber.

  “Just a few drops more than the norm should do it.” He muttered as he eased open the sickroom door. It was his only chance. That nurse was a sharp-eyed warden over her captive, noticing the slightest alteration in what she deemed appropriate to good health as an interference not to be tolerated. As a result, it took more time than he liked to find the array of medicine bottles. Lined up like soldiers going into battle, the remedies each had their own cups and spoon, with doses carefully marked. In any other circumstance, Henry would have praised her sense of order, but this precision would make it difficult to take anything undetected. Picking up the bottle labeled tincture of laudanum, he eyed the level of the liquid inside. It was nearly half gone. Uncorking it, Henry sniffed the sedative, pulling a face at the odd, spicy odor before taking the tiniest of tastes. The bitterness was sharp and unpleasant, it made him wonder how anyone possibly acquired an uncontrollable fancy for the stuff, before pouring a large measure into a small flask. The flask, a gift from one of his university mates, was made of silver and engraved with an elaborate letter W. It was small enough to be concealed in the breast pocket of his waistcoat and was already half filled with brandy. He would leave it where only his father would find it. As a man accustomed to the regular consumption of spirits before bed, Henry knew his father would not be able to refrain from drinking. The extra dose, when mixed with brandy, should be enough to send him into a prolonged sleep, one that would appear to be a relapse. Finished, Henry filled the laudanum bottle with water to hide what he had taken. Then, he replaced every object as it was found, and tucked the flask under his father’s pillow before returning to the party. Only this time, Henry took the shortest route, passing through the main hall and arriving just as dinner was announced. No one raised a question as to his absence. It seemed, that no one noticed him at all… no one but a young footman, standing silently at his post.