Having left for London early that same morning, Henry Wainright was oblivious to the state of his father, but only in the fact that his efforts had significant effect. Stopping at Camberly Abbey, he inspected the ancestral home with a critical eye. If he managed to marry Georgiana Darcy, there would be major changes once his father died. First and foremost, there would be modern plumbing systems and some sort of heating to replace the drafty stone fireplaces. One of his best ideas had been to run steam piping under wood flooring. The warmth on bare feet was wonderful, but chronic problems with leaky piping often resulted in ruined wood and steam burns. Henry had also experimented with a small-scale locomotive. Such things were already in use, but were also fraught with problems. No gentleman would see the use of locomotive travel if it meant clothing covered in coal dust, or required a carriage drive to the depot.
“My ideas are sound, I just need more money to see their fruition.” He said aloud to his horse. This time, he had managed to borrow a more docile mount. His arms had not healed completely from the abuse doled out by the previous one’s teeth. Henry had made the excuse of a London business appointment, but he had lied. In his pursuit of Georgiana, Henry had neglected his workshop and needed to spend some hours there, but no longer felt motivated to do so.
“Alas, I must work for a living, but there is merit in being productive. Idleness is for the rich, who may do as they choose. Maybe I should give up this fool’s errand and be content with a wealthy wife…if she displeases me, the arrangement need not be permanent.”
Giving the horse a measure of oats, Henry returned to the house and availed himself of the last remaining bottle of brandy. His father had been hoarding the cache of liquor, permitting one nightcap each as his supply dwindled with no possibility of replenishment. Pouring a double measure, Henry built a meager fire before proceeding to drink himself into a stupor. As a result, it was not until the afternoon of the next day that he woke and returned to Pemberley.
~18~
Two months later…
The passing of Sir Malcolm Wainright was noted with little interest beyond the boundaries of Lambton. By the day scheduled for internment, only a handful of distant family members arrived to pay their respects. Some, with a barely concealed greed had probably hoped to be remembered in the old man’s will, others out of pure curiosity. Absent were any persons from his late wife’s side of the family. When Lady Wainright died, so had all connections to them. With this poor turnout, Darcy had taken the responsibility of speaking at the ceremony. At least, he had honest fond memories of Sir Malcolm and made a proper show of respect. The same could not be said of Henry Wainright. Upon his return to Pemberley, the young man flew into a self-righteous rage at poor Nurse Malloy, threatening legal action for dereliction of duty resulting in his father’s death. It had been necessary to remove the terrified woman for her own safety, despite being innocent of any wrongdoing.
“Your father took a large amount of brandy with his medicines. We found the flask hidden in the bedclothes. Now stop throwing a tantrum and pull yourself together!” Elizabeth had snapped when all kinder efforts to explain the circumstance had fallen upon deaf ears. The chastisement had the desired effect and Henry immediately apologized, blaming shock and grief for his outburst and played the perfect gentleman until after the funeral. It was during the following meeting with Sir Malcolm’s solicitors that broke the passive pretense with another outburst.
“What do you mean Camberly Abbey is mortgaged? How can this be!” Henry ranted and demanded to see the documentation that placed his family home in debt.
“It is all perfectly legal. Your father took out the money to pay for living expenses, but it can be repaid.”
“Where am I to get twenty thousand pounds? That heap of rocks is hardly worth five? And what is all this about “itemization”? As heir, his possessions rightfully go to me, not strangers.”
“The Darcys are hardly strangers, and some of the items belonged to your mother’s family… to be returned should she not have a daughter to pass them to.”
Henry had grumbled incoherently, but did not challenge the will. If his father wanted to gift dusty old paintings and household objects it did not matter, but it left precious little to liquidate to pay the mortgage, now in arears two months. Despite inheriting the baronetcy, it provided only an income of five hundred pounds in addition to the title. As Sir Henry Wainright, he was now more in debt than before. The need to marry well loomed greater than ever. Forcing a congenial smile, he shook the attorney’s hand and informed the Darcys of the gift.
“As my father always held a fondness for you and Georgiana, he wished these few items to be yours as memorabilia. I am sure they are of sentimental value only, do not feel obligated to keep them.”
Henry had hoped for a refusal, but knowing the Darcy sense of honor, the single large painting and collection of silver-plate were accepted with all due appreciation. The portrait, depicting a milkmaid pouring from a jug, far to pastoral for Henry’s tastes, was studied carefully.
“I rather like its simplicity, and the deep blue color,” Elizbeth insisted.
“That is what the artist is known for… look here, where it is signed. The letter I over MEER is for Johannes Vermeer,” Darcy explained.
“Johannes Vermeer? Who is that? I have never heard of him,” Georgiana added.
“He was a Dutch painter, known for the use of that particular blue, but I don’t think he was especially popular… at least not yet.”
“Well, I propose we keep it. I know just the place to hang it.”
“As you see fit, my dear. It is yours, just as this rather ugly silver is Georgiana’s.”
The trio looked at the collection of serving platters with distaste and laughed, but it was pleasing to be thought of by Sir Malcom and they would remember him fondly.
As the weeks passed, a lovely sense of ordinary settled over the residents of Pemberley, even with the regular intrusion of Henry Wainright as he tried to continue his courtship of Georgiana. With the funeral long put to memory, the days were now punctuated by late risings, companionable afternoon activity and stimulation of mind with the progress of the steam driven carriage. Near enough to completion to warrant a test on open road, it was time to relocate the contraption from its seclusion.
~19~
Throughout the months of disruption to the household, Edwin Stokes, trusted footman, maintained his careful watch over its residents, most particularly, the person of Miss Georgiana Darcy. He rejoiced every time his assistance was requested in the cellar workroom, as it gave an opportunity to not only be near her, but to speak upon a common interest. Admittedly, Edwin knew he was infatuated with the beautiful Miss Darcy, perhaps he even loved her, but he also harbored no delusions. A young lady of good breeding and social standing did not consider a lowly footman to be her equal. Nor, did they ever look upon them with any sort of interest beyond what task could be done at any given moment. He was a humble employee; she was an heiress, it was an impossible dream. However, dream as he might, Edwin was not a fool, he had not been swayed by the attentions of Henry Wainright… now Sir Henry of Camberly Abbey. That man was a fortune hunter, no better than George Wickham, and in many ways far worse. At least Miss Georgiana saw through him as well, or at least he believed so. Despite the passing of old Sir Malcolm, Henry continued to call upon Miss Darcy. It was obvious that she was reluctant to be near him, yet each time he suggested a walk in the garden, she accepted. As a servant, Edwin had been able to casually be nearby should Georgiana require assistance. And, on more than one occasion, he knew that his sudden appearance had prevented unwanted physical advances. It was puzzling, but not a subject he dared broach. This dilemma consumed his thoughts as he polished the brass work in the main hall, ceasing his labors as the front bell was rung.
“Must be some sort of emergency to be tugging on that rope like a hanged man,” he muttered, concealing his oiled rag and donning gloves before opening the door.
�
�Well, that took quite some time. I have been standing here nearly three full minutes!” snapped the very man who caused Edwin such pain.
As he was no longer residing at Pemberley, Sir Henry Wainright had resumed the formality of calling at the front door and waiting for admittance. It was a practice that he clearly deemed inconvenient. Ignoring the remarks, Edwin allowed his entry, requesting the reason for the visit.
“I must see Mr. Darcy immediately. It is a matter of great importance.”
“Please wait here, I shall see if he is receiving.”
Edwin gave the man a short bow as was appropriate to his title, but secretly would rather toss him out. However, he would never bring disgrace upon the Darcys and quietly knocked on the library door. Despite the midmorning hour, Edwin knew that all of the Darcys were below in the cellar room with Mr. Trevithick. They had taken to working extra hours, breaking the traditional silence.
“Mrs. Reynolds has informed the servants that repairs are being made to the foundations. It should allow for any sort of noise made as well as keep all away on the pretense of safety,” Mr. Darcy had explained a few days ago.
Now, as no reply came to his knock, Edwin entered the library, taking the precaution of closing the door behind. He would need to go below and inform Mr. Darcy of his guest, but as he placed his hand upon the hidden lever, the library door opened behind him.
“Whatever are you doing? This is no time to be inspecting your master’s books… it is not as if servants read. Clearly, he is not here, go fetch him! And while you are at it, I could use some refreshment.”
Fighting the urge to strike the man, Edwin drew upon every ounce of restraint he possessed and calmly turned around, making no excuse for his actions.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” he said without a trace of the anger that burbled up inside. Bowing again, he exited the chamber, leaving the door ajar. Once out of sight, he broke into a run as he took the shortest route outside to the garden entrance, pausing only to tell a bewildered Mrs. Reynolds of their guest.
“Henry Wainright is alone in the library, I must find Mr. Darcy.”
Knowing that the man would be watched, Edwin slowed his pace as he took the path along the shrubbery’s edge. From the distance of a few yards, he could clearly hear the sounds of the working steam engine. The voices inside were muffled but obviously belonging to the Darcys. Rapping frantically, he was admitted to faces filled with concern.
“Sir Henry… he is above, demanding to see you sir. I tried to keep him in the hall, but he followed me.”
“Did he see you open the secret door?”
“No… he thought I was stealing a book.”
Darcy sighed with relief, but was irritated that their progress was to be interrupted by a man who was proving to be a great inconvenience.
“Georgiana, please remain here with Richard. Stokes, you stay too, they may need an extra pair of hands while we deal with Henry.”
“We?” Elizabeth asked. She had been busily drawing a final copy of the carriage design. It had taken considerable tries, but now, nearly complete, they would be able to recreate multiple machines based on her efforts. Every dimension had been carefully detailed, including a list of supplies down to the last fitting.
“Oh yes, I don’t want to endure his company alone. Whatever is so important, surely requires your appraisal. Besides, you are the best in getting rid of unwanted visitors.”
Elizabeth only rolled her eyes as she put down her sketches and took her husband’s arm. Together, they would suffer.
*****
Henry Wainright smiled smugly as he found himself alone in the grand Pemberley library. Although his reason for wanting to speak with Darcy was of great importance, it also gave him an opportunity to study the dimensions of the chamber unobserved. Pursing his lips as he thought, Henry knew that the house, or at least the central hall, dated to the early 1400’s. Originally a stone structure of modest size, it had been considerably enlarged to its present state nearly two centuries ago. With that much time, there would have been significant alterations to meet not only the family’s personal needs, but also the demands of security through uncertain political times. His own home, far older and less modernized, still bore easily identifiable markers of its use as a fortress, and then later, a convent. There were numerous odd passages, leading to blank stone walls, and stairwells that led a rabbit’s warren through obscure chambers. A person could visit Camberly for months and never discover all of its hidden secrets. If what he had heard in the garden was not a trick of the mind, there must be some access to the cellars through the library.
“But where?” Henry said aloud as he took the liberty of running his fingers along the fitted seams where the wood of bookcases met plastered wall. Nearly every available space was filled with floor to ceiling structures containing the treasure of tomes. Only the wall behind Darcy’s desk was blank. A slightly faded rectangle, perhaps the location of a painting now gone, was barely visible. Vaguely, Henry recalled the portrait, but dismissed its absence as irrelevant. It was the wall itself that intrigued him. Nowhere else in the chamber was there any vacant wall space. It was the logical place for a doorway. Wanting to go and inspect the area, Henry showed restraint as he feared the imminent arrival of his host. Looking at books was one thing, getting caught poking about a man’s desk was quite another. Nearly resolving to give up, Henry took a comfortable chair and idly awaited Darcy, staring up at the plaster relief that adorned the ceiling. It was then that he spotted the crack. In reality, unevenness in old houses was quite the norm, but this was clearly a new disturbance. A thick piece of the decoration had been broken off, revealing a long break that ran upwards from the floor. Had that single item not been missing, one would simply believe it was just a transition in the wall to allow for the inset of the bookcases. However, Henry was well versed in various construction techniques from his university days, and would wager his eyeteeth that this was where a passage or stairwell was concealed. Oh, it was brilliant in design, none but the most discerning architect would ever notice. There was not the slightest trace of any sort of door nob or lever, it must be equally well hidden.
“Bravo Darcy! I am impressed.” Henry said aloud, but this time, he was not alone and quickly stood up as the voice of his nemesis rang pleasantly from behind.
“With the library? We do enjoy it.”
“Er…. Yes, been wanting one of my own since University, but father was never one for much reading.”
“Indeed, he had other pursuits.” Darcy agreed.
“We had our differences, but he was still my father.”
Elizabeth stood to one side, and as yet, had not entered the conversation. Noticing the awkward turn, she stepped forward with a smile.
“So, Sir Henry…what brings you to Pemberley today? Surely our company has become tiresome after your stay?”
Henry colored slightly at the use of his newly acquired title, but pleased that Mrs. Darcy had chosen to acknowledge his elevation in society.
“Not at all. In fact, it is the particular company of Miss Darcy that brings me here.”
“I am afraid that Georgiana is not home at the moment… an elderly tenant is ill and she wanted to see how he is fairing.” Darcy lied smoothly, never altering his expression.
“That is so typical of Georgiana… so caring for others, with no thought to herself. It is one of the things I find so endearing.”
Elizabeth shot a questioning look at her husband and rang the bell for tea, but his face remained impassive, and gestured for Henry to take his recently vacated chair. Once everyone was seated, the Darcy’s did their best to contain their emotions, but it was painfully evident where the conversation would lead and after a few minutes of idle chatter, Henry Wainright voiced the true purpose of his visit.
“It is no doubt obvious to everyone that Georgiana and I have been spending a great deal of time together… especially before the passing of my father…. And… well…I should like to marr
y her.”
~20~
Elizabeth had not been surprised by Henry Wainright’s proposal, but she did not believe that his motivation had anything to do with holding great affection for Georgiana. However, she could not believe that Darcy had given his consent, provided that his sister was in agreement.
“I shall await an announcement from my sister. If she is willing, then I have no objections to the match,” Darcy said with the same level of concern one would expect when informed that dinner was running late.
Holding her opinions until after Henry left, Elizabeth was incredulous as she questioned Darcy’s action.
“You can’t be serious? Surely he only wants her dowry.”
“That may be, but if Georgiana wants him, I shall not stand in the way, even if I consider him to be a fool. Despite her reluctance to admit any attraction, I have seen her studying him with an odd expression on her face…one that may only be curiosity, but as she has had no other respectable offers, Henry may suit her. As for her dowry, trust that I have taken great pains to protect it. Since the incident with Wickham, Georgiana’s funds are now legally secured. She may only touch the interest until age thirty, unless she marries. And then, withdraws of any amount over five hundred pounds must be approved by me… or now you.”
Elizabeth drew a deep breath of relief. It was comforting, but still galling that a woman had no control over her own fortune. It was a terrible thing to have to constantly be wary of fortune hunters, but so many people found themselves in desperate situations. Her own family fell into that lot, but by some divine intercession, both she and her sister Jane had found love matches. It was a situation that she hoped for Georgiana. Now, as the prospect of marriage loomed, Elizabeth wondered if her sister-in-law had ever been so blunt with her assessment of Henry Wainright with Darcy as she had been with her. Women did tend to share more confidences between themselves, especially when it came to the opposite sex. Now, as she absently rearranged the used tea things, she wondered if Georgiana would accept. Henry had not remained at Pemberley, despite an offer of dinner, providing excellent opportunity for a proposal. And, as Georgiana had remained in the cellar workshop, she was ignorant of his desires.
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