The Pemberley Chronicles

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Later, when they were back at Lucas Lodge, she confided in her nieces. “I cannot believe that neither of them have any shame at all,” she said.

  “My dear Aunt, you should not be surprised; they are both quite brazen and appear to imagine that everyone in the family and in this neighbourhood has totally forgotten his appalling behaviour when the regiment was at Meryton and the circumstances of their marriage,” remarked Elizabeth, annoyed that Darcy had had to put up with the vexation of watching Wickham simper and court approval, all the while knowing the true nature of the man. Jane, on the other hand, was more dismissive.

  “I agree. I should have been ashamed to have attended the wedding after all that has gone before. But I think Mr Wickham is no longer a danger to anyone we know; I have made it my business to inform any of our acquaintances, who may ask about them, of the unpardonable way in which they deceived everyone and the irresponsibility of both Lydia and Wickham. I cannot believe that anyone, who has behaved as they have, will not have forfeited the regard of all respectable people.”

  Elizabeth was astonished at the strength of her usually gentle sister’s remarks but was equally delighted that Jane felt as she did. Jane and she had been saved from the damage that Wickham and Lydia had wrought only by the generosity of her future husband and his determination to spare her the pain of sharing in her stupid sister’s shame. His love, which she had at that stage rejected—in a moment of blind prejudice and ignorance—had stood between all of them and the opprobrium that society stood ready to heap upon them. Recalling it alone sent a cold shiver down her spine. She was delighted to see Darcy approaching with Mr Gardiner; her welcoming smile brought a warm response from him as he took her outstretched hand. “Are we ready to leave?” Mr Gardiner asked, and the ladies scattered to say their farewells and gather their belongings.

  “Very soon,” said Elizabeth, “But not before we find Charlotte and thank her. Maria, there you are, have you seen Charlotte?” They found her and taking her aside thanked her warmly and sincerely for her kind hospitality and invited her to visit them again.

  Mr Bennet, too, had to be consoled, now there was only Mary left to keep him company. Darcy made sure he was invited to visit Pemberley whenever he wanted a change of scene.

  Mercifully, Mrs Bennet had gone ahead with Lydia and Wickham, and Elizabeth felt no real need to follow them to Longbourn, choosing to send her farewells through her father and Mary. With the Wickhams’ staying on a few more days, she was sure her mother would scarcely notice. When Lydia was at home, Mrs Bennet appeared to crave nothing more than opportunities to indulge and cosset her daughter and her children. The Wickhams clearly pleased her mother more than they did poor Mr Bennet, who had nothing in common with either of them. Elizabeth did not leave without extracting from him a promise to visit Pemberley again after Christmas. It was a promise he found easy to give. “Your husband has already asked me, my dear,” he said cheerfully, “and as I told you on a previous occasion, I cannot refuse him anything. So yes, Lizzie, you shall have me back at Pemberley in the Spring.”

  Now her sister’s wedding was over, Jane, who was tiring a little, wanted to get away too, and Bingley obliged at once. They were all breaking journey overnight in London at the Bingleys’ house in Grosvenor Street.

  The Gardiners, most of them, were already in their carriage, and the younger ones were bidding everyone a lively farewell. Caroline stood waiting for her mother, who was finding it hard to leave an old friend. Elizabeth noticed again how elegant and grown up her young cousin looked. Weddings were good occasions to see people in a new light, she thought. She noticed, however, that her father looked a little weary and said so. Darcy, waiting a little impatiently for the carriages in front to move on, agreed, adding that while it had been a good day for Kitty, and she was surely a fortunate and happy young woman, for some members of her family, it must also have been a rather trying day.

  His understated comment exactly matched her own feelings. Quite clearly, her father had found little pleasure in the occasion. Elizabeth smiled and reached for Darcy’s hand. There was no need for words. They had said their goodbyes; setting off for London and then Pemberley, Elizabeth and Darcy felt only the pleasure of going home.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  England’s green and pleasant land

  A

  UTUMN WAS LATE THAT year in Derbyshire. The mild evening tempted Elizabeth to ask that tea be served on the West lawn, where they could sit in the golden light of the setting sun, look up at the great, wooded

  hills behind Pemberley, and enjoy their glorious colours. She had not yet become accustomed to the scale and magnificence of the grounds and woods around this great estate, much less to being Mistress of it all.

  On this evening, Elizabeth had company. Darcy and Mr Gardiner had gone to Liverpool on business, arranging the changeover of their trading interests from London to the West coast ports. The gentlemen were expected home in time for dinner. With her two boys away at College, Mrs Gardiner and her daughters were spending a few days at Pemberley. They had spent the morning tramping around the park with Caroline, who never tired of walking in the woods and the early afternoon in the library with Emily, who could not tear herself away from the books.

  Having changed for dinner, they had agreed that the evening was too mild and beautiful to warrant staying indoors. Caroline and Emily, sitting on a rug between their mother and Elizabeth, were taking it in turns to read aloud from a new book of poems. Elizabeth had bought it in London on her last visit and made a gift of it to the girls. Emily already knew some of the poems by heart and had just finished one of her favourites—a slight piece by Wordsworth about daffodils “fluttering and dancing in the breeze” in his beloved Lake District. She spoke it well and, when she had finished, asked if they could visit the Lakes. Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner exchanged glances and smiled as they remembered the last time they had planned to travel to the Lakes, the initial disappointment they had felt, and of course, the consequences that had flowed from their choosing to visit Derbyshire instead. When the girls detected that there was a secret their mother and cousin shared, they demanded to be told and would not be satisfied until some abbreviated version had been provided. The rest of the tale would have to wait until later, their mother said, adding that they may need to get Mr Darcy’s permission to fill in the details. This puzzled the girls greatly, but it was quite clear they were not going to get any more information out of either Elizabeth or their mother, whereupon they gave up and returned to the poetry.

  It was then Caroline’s turn to read, and she chose Wordsworth too, but quite a different piece. Caroline had spent most of her life in London, and she had loved the city, especially the river, along whose banks the family had often walked on a Sunday morning after church, sometimes to Richmond Hill, where the view of the river was so pretty that many smart Londoners had built houses there, overlooking the Thames. The sonnet composed on Westminster Bridge appealed to her, and her gentle, modulated voice lifted as she read the lines,

  “Never did sun more beautifully steep. In his first splendour, valley, rock or hill Dear God, the very houses seem asleep. And all that mighty heart is lying still.”

  As she finished, her little audience applauded. She looked up at Elizabeth, “It is so beautiful, Cousin Lizzie. This is such a good collection of poems. Do you not agree, Mama?” Before her mother could reply, footsteps were heard approaching on the path from the house, and an unfamiliar voice said, “I certainly agree and that was very well-read, Miss Caroline.” Everyone turned around, and Elizabeth jumped up to find Fitzwilliam standing in front of her.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam! What are you doing here?”

  He was smiling, quite unabashed, greeted her with much affection, and apologised for surprising them. “Mrs Darcy, Elizabeth, forgive me, I know I am not expected until the end of the month, but I had a rare chance of a berth on a boat that was leaving early. Ever since I received Darcy’s letter, I’ve been anxious to retu
rn to England, as soon as possible.”

  Turning to Mrs Gardiner, he spoke warmly, “And this is indeed an unexpected pleasure meeting you here, Mrs Gardiner, Miss Caroline, and little Emily, too. I have to confess, Miss Caroline, I heard your reading of Wordsworth’s sonnet and waited till you had finished before I spoke. It was excellent, rendered with so much feeling.” Caroline was obviously pleased. He asked after Mr Darcy and Mr Gardiner and on being told that they were expected to dinner, declared that he could not have chosen a better moment to arrive at Pemberley. No sooner had he sat down and accepted a cup of tea, than he turned once more to the book of poems. “I have purchased a copy myself,” he said, “It is all the rage in London.”

  “And do you have a favourite poem?” asked Emily. He smiled as he answered, “Indeed I do, you will find it at page nine,” and as the girls turned the pages eagerly, “It’s called Jerusalem.”

  “Jerusalem?” Elizabeth was not familiar with the poem. “What is its subject?” “England, the English countryside, and the despoiling of it,” said Fitzwilliam. “The poet, William Blake, is troubled by what he sees happening around us.” He had committed the poem to memory and spoke the lines quietly, but with feeling,

  “And did those feet in Ancient time Walk upon England’s mountains green And was the Holy Lamb of God In England’s pleasant pastures seen And did the Countenance Divine Shine forth upon our clouded hills And was Jerusalem builded here Among these dark Satanic mills?”

  Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner listened in silence as Caroline, having found the poem in the book, read the second stanza with him,

  “Bring me my bow of burning Gold Bring me my arrows of desire

  Bring me my spear, O clouds unfold Bring me my Chariot of Fire

  I shall not cease from mental fight Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand Till we have built Jerusalem

  In England’s green and pleasant land.”

  As they finished and looked at one another, Mrs Gardiner and Elizabeth applauded, while Emily, her eyes wide, sat completely entranced.

  Caroline coloured and suddenly broke the spell by asking if Mr Blake had written many other poems. But she never got an answer, because Mr Darcy had arrived at that very moment and, hearing their voices, came around the house at great speed, almost running into his cousin, who had stood up on hearing him approach. “Fitzwilliam! When did you arrive? Have you been long in England?” Darcy asked, simultaneously astonished and delighted to see him. As they greeted each other warmly, Fitzwilliam explained and apologised all over again, assuring Darcy that he had taken rooms at the inn at Lambton—in case there were other guests at Pemberley.

  “What nonsense!” said Darcy, “there is plenty of room here; you know that, Fitzwilliam. We can send a man to fetch your things, if you will write a note to the landlord.” Elizabeth agreed with her husband.

  “There is no question; you must stay at Pemberley. It will be a waste of time for you to return to Lambton tonight. Mr Gardiner will be joining us for dinner; surely, you will want to stay and meet him.” Fitzwilliam was easily persuaded and went immediately with Darcy to arrange for his things to be brought over from the inn, while Elizabeth sent for Mrs Reynolds to make arrangements about his rooms.

  Mr Gardiner arrived in time for dinner, having stopped to settle some bills and attend to domestic matters at the farm. His pleasure at finding Fitzwilliam at Pemberley, a full month earlier than he had expected to see him in England, was overwhelming. The Colonel, with whom he had corresponded over the past three years on matters of business and pleasure, regarded Mr Gardiner with great respect as an astute and honourable businessman, as well as a trusted friend. He had been very impressed by the entire family when he had met them during the preparations for the wedding of Darcy and Elizabeth. Mrs Gardiner he found, as Darcy had predicted he would, to be a woman of great decorum and excellent taste, while all her children and especially the girls were exemplary in their behaviour and exceedingly well-taught.

  Their being resident in London had meant that before and after the wedding, Fitzwilliam had met them often, finding their company more congenial than that of his fellow officers in the London clubs. Not having sufficient money with which to play the gaming tables and not being inclined to follow the Casanovas in their quest of compliant ladies, he was frequently on his own and was often asked to dine at the Gardiners. As a bachelor, with no home of his own to go to, he had enjoyed immensely and was grateful for their generous hospitality. He had become a regular visitor, especially on Sundays; he had looked forward to it and had begun to believe that they did, too. Leaving for India had been a considerable wrench, for which letters did not entirely compensate. He had missed them all very much.

  Meeting them again, without warning, at Pemberley, brought back all those memories. Both men had a great deal to discuss, and Darcy, knowing that he would have plenty of time to talk with his cousin, while he was staying at Pemberley, left them together, pointing out in a slightly sardonic remark to Elizabeth that it certainly wasn’t only ladies who could be accused of talking endlessly when they met. Elizabeth laughed and said she had always found Fitzwilliam had a good deal to say for himself, so she was not at all surprised. This brought an immediate riposte, about her preference for strong, silent men, of course!

  Unaware that he had caused any comment, Fitzwilliam was deep in conversation about several matters dear to his heart. While in India, he had become aware of the unease that Mr Gardiner and some of his fellow businessmen were feeling over the direction in which the nation appeared to be heading. Most frustrating of all had been the inability of the middle class to get an effective voice in Parliament and have the government take their concerns seriously. Now, he knew more about the disillusionment that had set in across all of English society. “It seems that those who support the Tories are unhappy because they are not repressive enough, while the Reformists and the Whigs are critical of the lack of freedom and the inadequacy of our Parliamentary system to represent all of society—not just the rich landlords,” he observed, and no one disagreed with him.

  Mrs Gardiner and Elizabeth took the girls upstairs to bed. They were tired after a long day and the excitement of Fitzwilliam’s unexpected arrival. Both aunt and niece were clearly pleased by his return; he had been a favourite of theirs, with his gentlemanly manners and friendly disposition. As they tucked Emily into bed, Mrs Gardiner remarked, “Colonel Fitzwilliam has certainly brought some excitement back with him, Lizzie,” and Elizabeth agreed, adding, “But I must confess I had never believed him to be particularly political.”

  “What’s political?” asked Emily, and before either of them could speak, the answer came from her sister, in the bed across the room,

  “You are very ignorant, Emmy, it means to be interested in the way the Parliament runs the country. Is that not right, Cousin Lizzie?”

  “It certainly is,” said Elizabeth, eyebrows raised and very impressed. As they left the room, her aunt said, “It’s Edward and his friends, of course. They’re forever talking about the Parliament and demanding reforms. Caroline seems to absorb it all. I know it seems precocious, but your uncle believes that the girls need to know as much as the lads.”

  “And he is quite right, Aunt. Ignorance is the surest way to disaster. Our family knows that only too well,” Elizabeth declared as they joined the gentlemen downstairs.

  They had already moved to the drawing room, but the conversation continued unabated, over coffee. During the short time he had spent in London, Fitzwilliam had heard of the chaotic situation in the city and at Court. He had met up with two friends who were involved with the Hampden Clubs and the Union Societies, promoted by aging Radical Major Cartwright and sympathetic Whigs like Burdett and Brougham. Fitzwilliam declared that he was of a mind to join the movement, “However, I must talk it over with you, Darcy and Mr Gardiner,” he said.

  Mr Gardiner counselled caution, pointing out that the government was being very vindictive towards its opponents and it might b
e sensible to study the political landscape well, before lending his support to one of the movements. Fitzwilliam was grateful for the advice but assured them that he was absolutely committed to working for reform. “I will not continue to hang my head in shame each time I hear of an American Declaration of Independence or a Bill of Rights in some European nation, while we still struggle under a system that denies the majority of us the vote.” There was no doubting his sincerity, and Elizabeth was truly happy to hear Darcy agree with his principles, while he advised his cousin to consider his decision carefully. “But Darcy, if we do not demand reform, no one will; I am determined.” Mr Gardiner asked carefully, “Would you stand for Parliament, Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

  “If need be, yes, I will. If that is the only way to get reform, I will stand for Parliament,” he said with so much conviction and firmness that it left no one in any doubt of his determination. Darcy looked across at Elizabeth, and as their eyes met, they smiled. They recalled a conversation a few weeks ago, when Darcy, having received Fitzwilliam’s letter, was sure he intended on his return to join the Reformists and stand for Parliament. Elizabeth had not been so certain.

  Later that night, as she brushed her hair and prepared for bed, Elizabeth acknowledged to her husband that he had been right, after all. He was gracious in victory, allowing that he had some prior knowledge from conversations with her uncle. However, he did admit that he had not anticipated the energy and eagerness for action that his cousin had shown. And there were many more things that he wanted to accomplish. Darcy revealed to Elizabeth that they had talked of half a dozen matters at least. “To begin with, he is no longer the disadvantaged younger son, dependent upon his father for an allowance. His position with the East India Company brought him into contact with a whole new group of businessmen—planters, traders, merchants, and he was able, with some good advice from your uncle and others, to make several excellent investments in both India and Ceylon—in commodities like tea, cotton, and spices, which are in great demand here and all over Europe. I believe he even has a half share in a gem mine in the hill country of Ceylon—producing sapphires and rubies,” said Darcy, and seeing his wife’s eyes light up, he added, “all worth a king’s ransom, no doubt.”