Preserving Pemberley

by Carrie Mollenkopf

  “I would not want to trouble you.” Elizabeth replied and looked back to where Darcy was in conversation with the estate manager. It appeared that whatever they were discussing was of some importance.

  “It be no trouble at all. I have some blueberry scones just from the oven…”

  Looking down at young James Fisher, Elizabeth’s decision was easily made. “How could I possibly refuse that? Perhaps you might assist me in sampling your mama’s scones?”

  Instantly appeased by the prospect of a treat, Jamie Fisher reached a sticky hand towards the strange lady, who took it carefully in her own and entered the cottage.

  Inside, Elizabeth was pleased to find a well appointed and spacious room that served as sitting, dining and kitchen. The walls were plastered white, accenting the rough-hewn beams that comprised the home’s structural support. The same wood, used to lay wide plank floors, shone with a high polish. The furnishings, although plain, were of fine craftmanship and bore soft coverings of tatted lace, no doubt the work of Mrs. Fisher’s own hands.

  “You have a lovely home Mrs. Fisher. Your handiwork is very delicate”

  “Thank you, my grandmother taught me, but the rest was already here when we arrived. Mr. Darcy sees to it that all of us tenants live well.”

  “I should imagine that all landowners want their people to be happy…”

  An odd silence fell between them as Sadie Fisher poured water from a steaming kettle into a china pot and placed four scones on a matching plate. Elizabeth fingered the porcelain cup before her, it was a quality and pattern near to that of her own mother’s. Having little contact with the few tenants at Longbourn, Elizabeth was unfamiliar with their personal lives, but something gave her the feeling that Sadie Fisher had come from a higher level of society.

  “The tea set was a wedding gift… from my parents.”

  “It is beautiful, I was just thinking how it is similar to my mother’s pattern… “wild iris?”

  “The same, Papa was a schoolmaster before he and Mama died…influenza. He said the flowers remined him of a poem.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “It is nearly three years now, but I do miss them, especially the lessons. Papa was always telling stories about far away places… and fairy tales. I sometimes think Pemberley is like a fairy kingdom. But now that I have Jamie and soon another, it occupies my thoughts.”

  “I can only imagine,” Elizabeth said as both women watched the toddler play with some wooden toys. “As for Pemberley… it is rather vast, my own home was not near so large. Today is the first time that I have been out visiting.”

  “As I said, it is not like other places. Here we have plenty, others live in hovels, near starvation, but Mr. Darcy would never allow it. He even paid for the doctor when I ran into trouble birthing Jamie. The midwife said I should have died; your husband is a very generous man.”

  Blushing at the compliment, as if it were her own, Elizabeth did not reply as a loud shout, followed by a heavy thud was heard outside the house. Running outside, they found Darcy and the estate agent trying to extricate Sadie’s father -in-law from under a great pile of thatch to which he had fallen.

  “Mr. Fisher, Breathe slowly… Does anything pain you?” Darcy asked as the man tried to sit upright. Dusting the remnants of straw from his body, the older man tested his limbs and found them unharmed. Still shaky, he stood slowly with assistance.

  “My foot slipped… don’t know how it happened.”

  “Clumsy fool, look at the mess! All of this thatch is ruined!” snapped Mr. Busby with a tone that made Elizabeth gasp at its callousness.

  “He could have been killed and has not, for that we must be thankful. I hardly think that a load of thatch is worth a man’s life,” Elizabeth insisted.

  “Agreed, it is of no account. The roof can wait another week, but should you feel any pain later, do not hesitate to send for the doctor.” Darcy ordered, silencing the steward who stood apart in indignation as Elizbeth glared at him.

  “I believe there has been enough excitement for one day as well. It was pleasant to make your acquaintance Mrs. Fisher, please send word when your baby arrives, I should very much like to call again.”

  “I will, thank you ma’am.”

  After seeing the elder Mr. Fisher inside, the Darcys once again made their way along the now shady lanes of Pemberley, leaving a disgruntled Mr. Busby to his duties. It was only when they were nearly a mile down the road that Elizabeth allowed her suppressed opinions to air freely.

  “It may not be my place to say, but Mr. Busby is a man without compassion! He thought more of a pile of straw than a person.”

  “Indeed, but I do not keep him for his feelings, only his ability to do accounts. Of that, he is most capable.”

  “But to be so unfeeling?”

  “That is why he must consult with me before making expenditures. Believe me, there have been many times that he has ventured to disagree with my preferences, believing them to be wasteful. But I shall not have any person living at Pemberley in a state of poverty, even if it means my own economization. Mr. Busby is of the opinion that profit is all that matters.”

  “But your income is substantial… surely there is more than enough.”

  Darcy laughed softly as his thoughts went back to a gathering over a year ago when his income had been the topic of gossip at Meryton. “Indeed, but a man in possession of ten thousand a year is not always in possession of that amount in profit. Not to worry, we shall not be destitute any time soon, but estates of this magnitude, much of the income is reinvested in maintenance or insurance against future unexpected expenses.”

  “Like drought?”

  “Exactly, or roof repairs and such. Even the salary for the minister and local schoolmaster must come from somewhere.”

  “I had not realized…. It makes me wonder now as to who paid for all of those things back home.”

  “As there are no properties as large as Pemberley, it may have been a shared responsibility. Your father, Sir William Lucas and now Charles Bingley, and other families of similar standing.”

  “What happens if they are not able to spare it? Or refuse?”

  “Their people do without… it is the way of our world.”

  “It seems that there is much room for change.”

  “The world is always changing, and we with it. That is how we survive. That is why there is a workshop under Pemberley’s library.”

  “I believe I have married the most intelligent man in the world.”

  “And I the most clever lady, whose mind is only matched by her beauty.”

  ~25~

  By midafternoon, the Elizabeth and Darcy had stopped at three more residences and enjoyed a mild repast at the home of Darcy’s former nanny. Long since retired, Miss Amelia Scroggins was somewhere between eighty and a hundred. However, she lived alone and managed quite well for herself, only requiring the regular inquiry as to her health or need. It was during this visit that Elizabeth was entertained by stories of her husband’s childhood antics until the ancient lady drifted asleep in mid-sentence.

  “I suggest we leave quietly,” Darcy suggested over the woman’s snores.

  “Who knew that you were such a horrid child? Did you really steal her inkwell and dump it on the cat?”

  “I am afraid so… Twinkles kept getting white fur on my dark clothes. I tried to dye him black to match.”

  “I shall make a point to visit Miss Scroggins regularly. Who knows what other delights she may share?” Elizabeth said as they crept away.

  By now, they were rounding out their tour of the eastern half of the estate. With less than two hours before they were expected home, Darcy took a lane, that while it left Pemberley’s boundaries, it would shorten the length of their drive considerably. It also took them directly past Camberly Abbey. During his morning discussion with Busby, the steward had mentioned considerable activity taking place at the old abbey. Allowing curiosity to get the better of him, especially knowi
ng that Henry Wainright was currently occupied away from home, Darcy wanted to see it for himself.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I should like to show you Camberly. As Henry is not there, we wont stop, but knowing your penchant for architecture it should prove enjoyable. Perhaps later Henry will grant you a full tour.”

  “I should like it very much. An old fortress turned abbey, is it not?”

  “Yes, and quite medieval, down to the jakes and moat. And… although I have never personally seen them, dungeons. Old Sir Malcolm would never permit any changes.”

  Elizabeth grimaced with delight and was pleased when the battlements came into view above the treetops. Set on a rise, but surrounded by tall oaks, it was nearly obscured until one was practically at the front gates. A modern wrought iron fence, broken only by brick pilasters signaled where Pemberley ended and Camberly began. The gates, wide open to allow entry, led down a narrow drive of tamped dirt. High weeds and brambles lined each side as it wound its way to the single square tower surrounded by a low ditch filled with brackish water. The stagnant odor of rotting plant material, mixed with something of a more human variety assaulted their noses.

  “It looks like a huge crenelated box…. sitting in a swamp. I cannot imagine Georgiana ever living here.”

  Darcy laughed at her appraisal, and concurred. It did appear rather forlorn, giving way to fantasies of a dragon protecting its lair, and Henry Wainright was now that dragon.

  “I suppose that is unfair, do we have time to drive around it? Surely Henry won’t mind our intrusion?”

  Nodding, Darcy urged the horse forward, ignoring the whinny of protest and soon they had encircled the keep. There was a total absence of outbuildings, and aside from the wooden bridge leading to the main entry, there was no other access. So, it was with some surprise to find a large assortment of crates stacked haphazardly on the small stretch of land that composed the ‘island’ inside the moat.

  “What do you suppose all of that is?” Elizabeth queried.

  “Probably improvements. Henry always complained about the lack of indoor plumbing.”

  “It doesn’t look like plumbing materials. What would all of those odd shaped circular things be used for? It looks like the inside of my Papa’s watch, only much larger.”

  This time, Darcy took a closer look at where she pointed. Gears of all dimensions, along with various pulleys.

  “I have no idea, perhaps he is recreating Big Ben? Henry did study mechanicals at university, even received his diploma with honors, but his father did not like it. Sir Malcolm saw that much education as unnecessary.

  “Mechanicals? Wouldn’t his advice be of value to our steam carriage?”

  “Without a doubt, if I could trust him… but unfortunately, I cannot. Henry Wainright has only ever cared about one thing… himself.”

  “Then why did you ever give him your consent to marry Georgiana?”

  “I don’t expect her to ever accept.”

  “Oh dear. You really don’t understand women.”

  Darcy stared at her, unsure of what to say when the unexpected personage of Henry Wainright emerged from the keep. He was wearing the clothing of a working man and ordered two servants to begin moving the collection of building materials. Not wanting to be seen, Darcy maneuvered the carriage into the dense trees, hoping they had not been discovered. It was awkward enough to be intruding uninvited, another to be caught. As if sensing their presence, Henry stared off into the distance for a moment, his eyes narrowing for what seemed an eternity before shaking his head and returning inside, allowing for an escape.

  “I thought he was entertaining Georgiana and Mary?” Darcy asked.

  “He was, and was invited to dinner…. something must have happened to send him packing. I suggest we return home and find out.”

  ******

  As Elizabeth and Darcy drove home, Mary Bennet sat curled up on a chair and watched with a mixture of amusement and admiration as Georgiana Darcy vented her frustration. Pacing back and forth across her chamber, the heiress’ steps now left an impression upon the carpet. It was nearly as entertaining as the day that her sister Elizabeth had refused the proposal of Reverend William Collins. Although, if she had to be practical, Mary would say that Sir Henry Wainright was a far better catch. At least he was handsome… and titled. Since the marriages of her sisters, Mary had become content to never marry, now that fears of being destitute no longer presented, but it was a temporary reprieve, not so for Miss Darcy. So, it was with curiosity that she wondered why Georgiana felt any irritation at all. As an heiress to a considerable fortune, marriage was not a necessity.

  “So simply tell him no.”

  “Tell him no? You make it sound so easy. I must have a reason, especially if my brother has already given his approval…besides, I am not so sure how I feel.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “I… I don’t know. I am not even sure what love feels like… at least not that kind of love, something about him unnerves me.”

  “Well then, can you imagine having him having free access to your person whenever it suits him? Can you trust him not to squander your fortune?”

  Georgiana pulled a very unladylike face as she contemplated Mary’s blunt words. “When you put it so plainly, it does put it into perspective… and no, I can’t imagine either, but our families have been well acquainted for so long, I should hate to cause distress.”

  “It is not as if there are legions of family to disappoint. One distant neighbor is of no account, not when it means a lifetime of unhappiness, but you must do as your heart compels. Just promise me it won’t be at the cost of your sense of self.”

  “Oh Mary! What would I have done without you?”

  “Married an idiot that you despise.”

  “I shall tell him no, but not just yet. Perhaps by the end of the month, there will be an objection that is obvious to both.”

  “What will you say to your brother?”

  “I don’t know yet, but believe me, he will know my mind tonight.”

  Mary only nodded, but kept her own counsel. Something seemed rather odd about the entire affair, but oddities were becoming altogether to regular in her life. If only it were possible to retire to a small seaside cottage filled with books. Her life would be content without all the bother of marriage and the trials it brought. What if Lydia and Wickham remained at Longbourn? She could not go on living at Pemberley, dependent upon charity, but the prospect of returning home was completely abhorrent. At least Georgiana had choices, limited as they were. In moments such as this, Mary understood why Charlotte Lucas had married her bumbling cousin. Although Mr. Collins was a simpering fool, it was an escape from a life of servitude to one’s own family. She’d rather die than wind up catering to Lydia’s potential children in return for her keep. Sighing, she rose and returned to her own chamber, leaving Georgiana Darcy to dwell on her own life alone.

  ~26~

  Miss Darcy’s exasperation with her sibling did not erupt into a squabble or tantrum. Instead, it ended in the most rational conversation with sister and brother each acquiring a new respect for the other. The former relationship of elder brother serving as substitute parent was now relinquished as Darcy acknowledged Georgiana’s adulthood.

  “I had planned to tell you, but changed my mind. Whether you marry or not is entirely up to you. It is your life and you have always shown good sense. My days of giving opinions as to whom anyone should marry are over. If Henry Wainright pleases you, that is all that matters.”

  “So… so you don’t care one way or another?”

  “I do care… but only that you are happy…. Why? Have you accepted him?”

  “N..no… not exactly. I asked that he give me some time to consider it… a month.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you really?”

  “No, but if that is what you wish…”

  “Oh Fitzwilliam! You are impossible at times. I have no intentions of marrying him. Something about
him unsettles me, and not in a good way. Henry always seems to be hiding something, and I want to discover what it is. Then I shall refuse him.”

  “Now I am utterly confused, but yes, I agree as to his duplicity. Elizabeth and I observed something strange at Camberly.”

  Darcy revealed all that had taken place during their drive, and after much explanation to a bewildered Mary Bennet, the four went below to the Pemberley workshop.

  “So, you see Miss Bennet, your brother-in-law achieves his fortune by honest labor.”

  “For that, you have my admiration. Although, it is unfortunate to resort to hiding it.”

  “I fear we must. Inventions such as this are of great value… if successful.” Elizabeth added, pleased that her sister was so interested. Mary timidly reached out a finger to touch the intricate steam engine where it lay uncovered from its protective box.

  “Then it must be made successful. I don’t suppose you need an extra pair of hands?”

  “Always…. especially if they are yours.”

  *****

  For the next few days, the master and mistress of Pemberley continued their tour of tenant farms by day and toiled the evenings away placing the finishing touches on the new steam carriage. Nearly ready for its first test out upon the open road, Elizabeth still held concerns for its overall safety.

  “What will block the wind? Won’t the ironwork become rather hot?”

  “We shall find out when we test it, and make modifications afterwards. It is the only real way to determine readiness. If we are truly lucky, a mixture of weather will come our way so different conditions can be examined.”

  This assessment, filled with the soundness of mind that only came from experience was provided by Richard Trevithick the previous evening. The engineer, although surprised by the addition of Miss Mary Bennet, found a willing and eager apprentice in the shy young woman. Mary’s inquisitive desire to learn was not lost upon her sister.

  Elizabeth, sitting some distance from where the work continued, steadily made changes to the pile of drawings. “Blueprints… not drawings” she corrected mentally and reached for the piece if India rubber used to erase her charcoal. A complete set, from the first foundations of the carriage wheels, to the complex engine compartment was needed if the process was to be duplicated. With luck, they would need to repeat it many times when those who could afford to purchase ordered one. Wiping a smudge away, she paused for a moment and looked about the chamber. In her vantage point, Elizabeth was able to observe everything at the same time. In one corner, Darcy and Mr. Trevithick hosted the engine carefully into its final resting place, while Mary took precise measurements. In the opposite, Georgiana and Edwin Stokes stretched a layer of canvas over the skeletal form of a canopy. It was in watching the young footman interact with Georgiana that a sudden realization hit her. Despite their innocuous partnership, it was evident that they held a mutual affection. Georgiana’s hand lingered a moment too long on Edwin’s arm. She blushed when he remembered the allowance of using her Christian name. However subtle the signals, they were clearly present. Having had four sisters, each of a marriageable age, Elizabeth held a practiced eye when it came to unofficial courtship. It was too bad that Mr. Stokes was a footman. The moment the thought occurred; Elizabeth chastised herself for such callousness. As one who had been dismissed for lack of fortune, it was a selfish cruelty to commit the same transgression. However, she had not been a servant. It would take a love of immense magnitude to overlook the difference in their stations. Hopefully, both Georgiana and Edwin realized the impossibility of it and no unfortunate foolishness would result. Elizabeth had already suffered enough of that with her own family. Forcing her eyes away, she attempted to focus on the drawings but Darcy’s pleased voice beckoned her presence.