The Pemberley Chronicles

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  When she left a week later to join her father for Christmas, she left Rebecca behind at Pemberley. She was the same age as Cassandra and a little younger than Emily. The three of them had struck up a friendship that over the years would become as close as their mothers.

  Watching the carriage drive away with her mother and Amelia-Jane inside, Rebecca remarked in a self-consciously grown up voice, “Amelia-Jane still needs looking after. I think Mama knows I am grown up enough to be on my own.” Elizabeth smiled and put her arms around her.

  “Of course she does, but Becky, you know you are not on your own; we are all here for you,” but she knew in her heart exactly what the child had meant. Acutely aware of the position in which they were all placed since their father’s death, the two older girls had understood that they had to play their part. Their mother’s example had set a high standard, and it was clear that Rebecca was determined to live up to it.

  J

  Richard Gardiner arrived home in time for Christmas. With him was his friend, Paul Antoine, a young man with exemplary manners and a gentle European charm, not often seen in Derbyshire. The Gardiners, who had met many émigré families in London, during and after the war years, welcomed him and lost no time introducing him to their family and friends.

  While everyone was making a huge fuss of Richard, now a fully qualified and accredited physician, the ladies young and old were more intrigued by his friend. He was good-looking, though he had none of the rugged handsomeness of Richard. His fine-featured face was sensitive, and his expressive eyes and dark hair were quite distinctive. His voice and manners were pleasing without appearing to be artificial or contrived, and when he joined a group, at dinner or cards, his conversation was so natural that no one was ill at ease in his company. By the time Monsieur Antoine had met most of the Gardiners’ circle of friends, it was universally agreed that he was one of the most agreeable young men they had met in many a year. Part of his charm stemmed from his apparent ignorance of the reasons for his own popularity. Never being boastful or demanding attention, he seemed always to be most appreciative of any recognition.

  Emily Gardiner, to whom it fell, whenever her brother was busy, to entertain Paul Antoine and accompany him to social occasions, found him very easy to converse with and had no difficulty finding interesting things to do and places to visit with him. His natural interest and her own obliging nature combined to make for a very easy association. When she brought him over to Pemberley, where he was shown over the house and its grounds, he was completely captivated and pleaded to be allowed to return and see more of the library, which was of course, Emily’s favourite part of the estate.

  Since James Courtney, the theology student, had returned to Oxford for the vacation, Emily obtained permission for Paul Antoine to spend some time there, for which privilege he was very grateful indeed. For Emily, this was a special pleasure, since her love of the library and art collection at Pemberley increased each time she visited there. When Monsieur Antoine proved to be a keen art lover, with a talent for sketching, Emily was delighted and promised that in the Spring she would show him the best views on the Pemberley Estate, so he could sketch to his heart’s content.

  J

  At Christmas, when the families gathered at Pemberley, Jane, who was always sensitive to romance in the air, remarked that Monsieur Antoine, whose looks and manners she deemed to be impeccable, and Miss Emily Gardiner had spent almost all evening together; they had certainly danced more frequently than any other couple.

  Warning her sister against jumping to conclusions, Elizabeth agreed that they had and indeed they did dance very well together. European dances like the waltz had long since invaded English ball rooms, but, while they were popular in London, it was different in the country. Richard, having spent two years in Paris, was quite an accomplished dancer while amazingly, Paul Antoine seemed less confident and needed persuasion to take the floor. When he did, however, there was no doubting his ability, so light was he on his feet, so easy to follow that every young lady wished he would ask her next. Alas, he insisted on being an exemplary guest, dancing with Elizabeth, Mrs Gardiner, Caroline, and Emily, before he approached any one else.

  By the end of the evening, Jane was excited at the prospect of a real romance developing, but Elizabeth was unsure. She had also been observing the pair and Emily, while she was obviously enjoying herself, appeared not to be at all conscious of anything more extraordinary than a very pleasant friendship. Elizabeth said as much to her sister, “I cannot work it out yet, Jane. Either Emily is being very cautious, or she isn’t interested in him, as a romantic prospect,” she said, puzzled. Jane smiled, “I cannot believe it to be the latter, Lizzie. He is such an appealing young man. As for being cautious, if she isn’t careful, she may find she is in danger of breaking his heart. Honestly, Lizzie, the young man looks deeply in love with her, already.”

  Emily Gardiner did not know quite how to describe her feelings about Monsieur Antoine. It was the very first time that she had taken an interest in any of her brothers’ friends, though she had met many of them throughout their schooldays. Paul Antoine was different in many ways. He was French, or at least half French, which meant he had a tradition of natural courtliness in his approach to all women, young and old. She had noted with approval the unaffected pleasure he seemed to take in conversing with her mother or her cousins when he was seated next to one of them at dinner. Even when there were several younger women in the party, he showed no particular preference for them.

  Emily had noticed that he often returned to her side on these occasions and would fall quite naturally into step with her when they were out walking but put that down to the easy friendship that had grown between them rather than any partiality on his part. When he complimented her on her mastery of a particularly difficult piece of music, which he had begged her to play for him on a visit to the music room at Pemberley, she was pleased but convinced herself that similar praise from any one would have been as welcome.

  She did not deny that he possessed qualities which she admired. For the first time, she had felt herself able to talk to a man who regarded her as a companion, not just a partner for dancing or a game of cards or a presentable woman to escort to the theatre. He appeared genuinely interested in her opinions on various matters and had several of his own, which he shared with her in exactly the same way that he discussed them with her brother or her father.

  It was, for Emily, who had been accustomed to the segregation of women in much of social intercourse, a delightfully new experience, and she was enjoying it. She was also totally unaware that their friendship had been the subject of speculation for several weeks, among their mutual friends and her family. Had she guessed it, it is likely she would have been very surprised, for in her own mind, there was no more than the genuine enjoyment of a novel friendship, such as she had never before found with any of the young men of her acquaintance.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  To make the nations free

  T

  HE TUMULT OF FIFTEEN months of political agitation brought a wave of social upheaval that washed over England and flowed into the lives of many of her people. Following an historic election, which gave the

  Whigs an unassailable majority in the Commons, Lord Grey was as good as his word, pushing through his Reform Bill in the teeth of entrenched opposition from the Lords. They delayed its passage, conniving with each other and occasionally, even with the King’s men, to the point where they almost destroyed the elected government.

  King William appeared to vacillate at first but soon realised after a bitter Winter of discontent during which public rage and uproar brought Britain to the edge of chaos, that Parliamentary reform was essential, if the nation was to hold together. After some weeks of teetering on the brink and much machination, the Lords caved in, and it was as if an almighty sigh of relief went up all over the land.

  Fitzwilliam and Caroline had been in London during the last crisis ridden days. When it was
over, they returned as if from a battle, bearing their trophy— a copy of “The Bill,” declaring it to be a modern Magna Carta. The abolition of the system of rotten boroughs, which had corrupted the Parliament, was a victory for the people, whose protests had forced the King and his peers to listen, they claimed.

  Mrs Gardiner who had had charge of her two beloved grandchildren, Isabella and Edward, while their parents were in London, asked if Caroline and Fitzwilliam would take a holiday, now it was all over.

  “It isn’t over,” said Fitzwilliam, to her surprise, “Indeed, it is only the beginning. Now we have a reformed Parliament, we must proceed to press for an extension of voting rights and the abolition of slavery.”

  Caroline added her voice. “It will never be over as long as young children work long hours in factories and down the mines, Mama. I am pledged to support their struggle.” Mrs Gardiner agreed that the exploitation of children was a vile practice, but sadly, neither she nor her husband could see any possibility of a change; now that the men of industry had more, not less power in the Commons, they were hardly likely to pass laws that cut into their profits by outlawing child labour. But Caroline, as always, remained hopeful, determined that she would start a campaign to “get the babes out of the mines and into school.”

  Fitzwilliam revealed that Caroline had already taken the opportunity of a chance meeting at a social function to take up the matter with the influential Lord Althorp who, though he was initially surprised by her question, had assured her the interests of the children were foremost in his mind. It was a matter, he promised, he would address very soon, through a law to regulate hours and conditions in the mills.

  Fitzwilliam had been taken aback when Caroline had told him of her conversation with Lord Althorp, but he was soon reassured, when the man himself congratulated him on the intelligence and charm of his wife. Quite obviously, her venture into social issues had done her husband no harm at all. Darcy and Elizabeth heard the story from Mr and Mrs Gardiner, when they, together with Bingley and Jane, dined at Pemberley the following Saturday. “You could have knocked me down with a feather,” said Mrs Gardiner, “but Caroline was not at all overawed by the great man. She felt that he, as one of the most influential and able members of the new government, would surely be the best person to lobby on such an important matter.” There were incredulous gasps from Jane and Elizabeth, but Darcy laughed and said, “She is right, of course. Not much good haranguing some obscure backbencher with little or no influence in the cabinet.” He reminded Elizabeth of his prediction that with Caroline beside him, Fitzwilliam would go far. Bingley agreed, adding, “Her charming manner will protect her from giving offence, where others might, should they attempt such advocacy, with less than Caroline’s sincerity.” Mr Gardiner, who could barely conceal the pride he felt in his young daughter, intervened briefly to assert that no one who knew Caroline could ever doubt her complete sincerity of purpose.

  “Do you believe she is sufficiently ambitious for Fitzwilliam, to put up with the vagaries of political life?” Elizabeth asked. Darcy replied, “It is not a question of ambition. I do not believe she is unduly ambitious for her husband; well, not any more than he is himself. But, each time I speak with her, I cannot help feeling that Caroline wants to change the world. She sees injustice and wants to do something about it—whether it’s the children of the poor, who must work in the mills and get no education, or the widowed women who have nowhere to go in their old age but the poorhouse—after a lifetime of service. I believe she sees opportunities to draw attention to these examples of suffering in our community. That cannot possibly do Fitzwilliam any harm with his constituency.” Mr Gardiner agreed, but his wife expressed the hope that their daughter would not wear herself out with political work.

  “I can see her, a child in her arms and another at her side, talking passionately to anyone who will listen about the evils of child labour. I know she appears to have boundless energy, but I fear she works too hard,” she said, voicing a mother’s concern. What none of them knew was that the only thing that could slow Caroline down was about to be announced to the family. She had been keeping it a secret these last few weeks.

  In the Summer of 1833, Caroline was to have her third child, and with characteristic dedication, she would turn all her efforts to being a devoted mother, just as she had with her two older children. When Mrs Gardiner was told the news on the following Sunday, she was so delighted she ordered the carriage and set off with Emily for Pemberley, where she could break the news to both Elizabeth and Jane. With their husbands out riding, the sisters were indulging in their favourite pastime—reminiscing and planning for the future. Mrs Gardiner’s unexpected arrival added the only missing ingredient to their discussion, the humour and wise counsel of their favourite aunt. Her news gave everyone much pleasure.

  Over tea in Elizabeth’s private sitting room, they recalled the numerous occasions on which they had been similarly engaged and wondered at the way they seemed always to find harmony and agreement, rather than discord. “I do believe there has not been a cross word exchanged between us, ever,” said Jane, rising to go to her little Louisa, who could be heard complaining loudly in the nursery. Elizabeth smiled and exchanged glances with her aunt, who protested, “Dear Jane, I cannot believe that you would ever exchange cross words with anyone, much less with your sister and me.” Marriage had not changed Jane. She remained sweet-natured and patient, almost to a fault, so that all her children, whom she loved dearly, got their way with her. Mrs Bennet frequently warned her against spoiling them, but there was no need. All three of them so closely resembled their parents in disposition, there was never any fear of their being spoilt. Furthermore, they had the incalculable advantage of being the beloved children of a happy union.

  Elizabeth claimed she was less fortunate than her sister, since her children were not as amenable as Jane’s. With both parents being of an independent disposition, it was hardly surprising that their children were similarly endowed. In matters relating to their education, she had had no success at all in organising their lives. Sixteen-year-old Cassandra had refused absolutely to go away to school at Oxford, content to be taught by Georgiana’s governess, while all efforts to persuade William, who was almost fifteen, to attend the boarding school in London chosen by the Bingleys for his cousin Jonathan had come to naught. Darcy had tried to speak firmly to young William and insist that he, at least, try a year at College before he decided against it but was disadvantaged by the fact that he had permitted Cassandra to have her own way. “If Cassy doesn’t have to go away to school, Papa, why should I?” asked William, reasonably, arguing that he was doing very well with his tutor and didn’t think Jonathan’s school could do him any good at all. “I do not wish to be forced to drill and play stupid games. I would rather study music and literature with Mr Clarke and ride or play cricket in Derbyshire, than go away to boarding school in London.” The boy was so determined that short of ordering him to go, his father, who detested domineering, bullying men himself, had no arguments to change his mind. Elizabeth was disturbed by the refusal of both her children to do what she had expected they would do, but like Darcy, she was unwilling to provoke a confrontation that would do more harm than good.

  It was true that Cassandra had succeeded in persuading her father that her education was not going to be enhanced by a year at Mrs Baxter’s establishment. She was already, at sixteen, an extremely intelligent and well-read young woman, with opinions of her own and a tendency to emulate her mother’s witty style of comment. “Truly, Mama, I cannot believe that I would add anything to my understanding by spending a year or two with Mrs Baxter. If you wish me to spend some time at Oxford in the future, I should prefer to accept Aunt Georgiana’s invitation to stay with her. She and Dr Grantley would be far better companions for me at Oxford, than Mrs Baxter would. I should learn so much more from them. Do you not agree?” Elizabeth could hardly disagree. Her attempts to persuade her daughter that there was something to be gai
ned from a resident school fell on deaf ears, and Cassandra replied with a cunning suggestion that took even her mother by surprise. “I know what I should like above anything,” she declared, and before anyone could draw breath, she continued, “I should love to learn to cook and shop and run a house just like Aunt Gardiner does. She is the best, Richard says, and so does Emily. Now, that would be something really useful for a modern young lady to learn; do you not agree, Mama?” The sweet reasonableness of her argument combined with the complete innocence of her expression as she appealed to her mother and aunt was breathtaking. Elizabeth hesitated, and Mrs Gardiner, whose love of her nieces’ children was absolute, was so flattered she could scarcely believe her ears. Sensing success, Cassandra persisted, turning to Mrs Gardiner, with her wide dark eyes and an angelic smile, “Would you teach me, Aunt?”

  “Of course I would, but your mother and father ...,” she got no further. Cassandra hugged first Mrs Gardiner and then her mother, before declaring with a degree of finality, “That’s settled then. It is near enough for me to ride over, and if it rained, you could send the carriage for me, or I could stay overnight. Oh, I can’t wait to tell William. I’m glad he isn’t going to boarding school, Mama, he would have been miserable, and I should have felt very guilty indeed,” she declared and danced out of the room and down the long corridor in search of her brother.

  Elizabeth shook her head, not knowing quite what to say. Jane remained silent lest anything she said might offend her sister. Only their aunt was prepared to speak, but so partial was she to Cassandra, that she could do no more than offer some small comfort to Elizabeth. “Dear Lizzie, you must not worry, I know my Caroline and Emily were greatly advantaged by their time with Mrs Baxter, but remember, they did not have the benefit of the background that you and Mr Darcy have given Cassy here at Pemberley. We lived in Cheapside, and your uncle and I felt the girls needed to get out into a more cultured environment for a year or two. Cassy is quite right to point out that she would do better to visit Georgiana at Oxford, than spend time with Mrs Baxter. I do not mean to criticise Mrs Baxter, she is an educated woman and a most conscientious teacher, but knowing Cassy, I can see that she would be very bored within a week.” Jane agreed wholeheartedly, and Elizabeth had to accept that her daughter was probably going to get her own way, again.