Pemberley

by Kirsten Bij't Vuur

  'Is this what you were looking for?' he asked, now more in the mood of the hunt rather than gripped by grief. He handed them to Fitzwilliam, who checked the address.

  'I think it is, Nathan. Will you tell us about it, or is it still too painful?'

  After replacing the boards carefully and smoothing the rug over them, Mr Brewer got up, back to reality.

  'It is painful, but maybe talking about it will help. You went to Newcastle to support your sister in a similar situation, didn't you, Mrs Darcy?'

  'I did, and it was heartbreaking. My sister never was a very serious girl, Mr

  Brewer, but she really hurt. I feel so much for you and Mrs Brewer.'

  'We had been trying to have another baby for years, and it took very long this time. Juliette was so incredibly happy, she started on this room right away, and I helped gladly. Then before we were ready to tell anyone, she started to bleed and the baby was lost. She has been inconsolable ever since, I don't know what to do anymore. She didn't want anyone to know, but I'm starting to think that was the wrong decision, Mrs Reynolds would never gossip, nor would Mr Eliot. If only she'd be able to talk to anyone.'

  'When my sister finally opened up to the army minister his understanding did her so much good, Mr Brewer. Please do find help, Mr Eliot is as understanding as Mr Blaze at the camp, I'm certain Mrs Brewer would feel better right away.'

  'If only she could have another baby, but it's been almost a year....'

  'Will you think about my offer, Nathan?' Fitzwilliam said sincerely. 'I could arrange for you to leave in a week's time, we'll have most of the spring work done by then and you can be free to spend two weeks away from home. Visit a doctor, see new things.'

  'Thank you so much, sir, I will ask Juliette. She is not fond of crowds but she knows everyone here, maybe it will be a relief to be among strangers for a while.'

  As they descended the narrow stairs, Mr Brewer broke the silence.

  'What do you want me to do with those boxes, Mr Darcy?'

  'I'm afraid they can be thrown out, Nathan, there was nothing of any value in them. Just old stuff from the estate. I'd like to take these letters, though.'

  'Of course, sir, and once again, thank you so much!'

  'Shall we take our leave from Mrs Brewer, or do you think she prefers if we don't?'

  'I suppose she's left the house already, ma'am, she always goes to her workshop when she's anxious. Will you please forgive her? She has been through a lot.'

  'There is nothing to forgive, Mr Brewer, your wife has treated us to a superior piece of pie, and frankly, if she saw me now she'd know we know, and she would not like that. Better you talk to her first. The best of luck, Mr Brewer.'

  'Thank you Mrs Darcy, you understand Juliette.'

  And without further ado they left, through the side door and the beautiful gate. Elizabeth had time for one good look at the garden, and it promised to be a magnificent experience when she'd take Georgiana over to see the house

  and garden. If Mrs Brewer didn't change her mind, now Elizabeth had found out about her unlucky pregnancy.

  They walked back to the house in silence, Fitzwilliam busy removing the ribbon from the letters. He then handed her one, kept one himself and stuck the rest of the little stack in his coat pocket. The address was written in a firm, masculine hand, and the name was Mrs Victoria Wickham. Taking the letter from the envelope she recognised the same hand and she quickly checked the adieu. It said: Yours truly, Richard Darcy.

  This was it, the proof that Fitzwilliam's father and Wickham's mother had been intimate, although Elizabeth hadn't really doubted that. She merely doubted that a child had come from their association.

  'So that's it, my love, uncle Spencer was right. My father did indeed have an affair. I feel sorry for my mother, how she must have felt the hurt and humiliation, and with someone she knew and liked, depended on even, since Victoria Wickham nursed her through many of her illnesses. I suppose it went on for years and years, and all this time mother was struggling with her health. I never had the slightest suspicion, I worshipped my father.'

  'Let's read them in the bedroom. I feel guilty for putting you through this, I want to hold you when you need it without having to think of propriety.'

  He did not reply, he merely took her hand and led her up the stairs to their room, where they removed their coats and sat down on the bed.

  'Shall we each read a few, then exchange them? Or do you want to read all of them out loud, so we can discuss them straight away?'

  'Let's do that, we're not in a hurry, are we? I want to share this with you, I have never known any of the people involved, I'd feel like an intruder reading their communication.'

  'True, I can imagine that. Shall I start? Do we need to find the oldest one first?'

  That seemed like a sensible thing to do, and checking the headings of the letters they discovered all had been written from London. The earliest letter they found was dated about six months after Darcy's birth, and was shocking in its tenderness. Of course Mr Richard Darcy had the reputation of being a kind and warm-hearted man who did much good for his tenants, and had the affection in this letter benefited his wife all would have been well. But it was not, this letter had been written to another man's wife, and at least two people had suffered for their forbidden love. Elizabeth knew Fitzwilliam's mother had had her suspicions, and she could hardly imagine Wickham's father

  hadn't.

  My very dear Victoria,

  I have finally found a way to write to you that is perfectly safe. This letter was handed to you personally by my hunt master, who lives in one of my cottages off the main road just past the church. If you leave your reply in the Roman temple behind the statue of Mercury he will make certain it reaches me here.

  Do not worry, his silence is assured. Burn this letter once you have read it, my love, it's just paper and ink. Our love is what matters and leaving behind proof can only endanger it.

  Though his voice sounded as articulate as ever while he read that, Fitzwilliam had to stop to take a deep breath after the introduction. This was worse than anything they could have imagined, their affair sounded so deep and so very calculated!

  'Can you go on? I'm afraid it's too much for me already and I have a feeling it will get worse. 'My very dear Victoria'! When did it start? Even before he married my mother?'

  'Did he know her already? Do you know where she came from? Was she married to Mr Wickham before he became your father's steward?'

  'I suppose they weren't married, yet, as far as I have heard Mr Wickham was married just after I was born, and at that time he had been in my father's service for several years. I don't how many years exactly, and I don't know how the Wickhams met. She was not a local woman, I think, she dressed differently, she was much younger than her husband, and he spent a lot of money on her, more than he probably should have. I always thought she looked like one of the fashionable ladies from London, you know, the kind that read about you in the papers last season.'

  'Shall I read on? Can you bear it?'

  He squeezed her hand and smiled.

  'It all happened years ago, everyone involved is dead. There is nothing we can change. I feel I ought to know what my father was really like. Maybe everyone hereabouts knows, except me, that would make me a laughing stock. I prefer to face the facts, dear Elizabeth, however harsh they may be.'

  She nodded and continued reading the letter where Fitzwilliam had left off.

  I was so sorry to have to leave you, but my obligations in town did not allow me to stay at Pemberley. Much as I would have preferred to, with you finally

  settled nearby, and Anne still so weak and my strapping baby boy finally here. After four years, and with Anne always laid up with something, who would have thought I'd have such a beautiful, strong heir? I am certain you worked some of your magic on her while you cared for her in London. You will keep taking care of them, won't you? Anne has been a good wife to me, she loves me so much, she cannot help lac
king spirit and something interesting to say. I thought she might improve away from her sister, but she never gained any liveliness to speak of. Poor thing. She is no threat to you, as Wickham is no threat to me. I hope he treats you well, but you may rest assured I would not have introduced you to him if I'd had any doubts on that score. No other man will love you as well as he does, and he is not the kind to refuse you anything. Even if we're separated for a few months each year, it's much better for you to live in peace in the countryside than to slave away in town for those who don't care.

  He set up his steward with his mistress so she could live close to him? That couldn't be true!

  If Anne's sister visits, do not draw attention upon yourself! You can help Anne with the baby, and console her afterwards for Catherine's visits always tire her out, but if you cannot take Catherine's insolence better be out of sight while she is there. I plead you to mind my warnings, if anyone can cause us grief it is Catherine. Anne knows she is imposed upon by her harpy sister, but she could never resist her. You could, I know, but you should not. It's just too dangerous to what we have built up together, we have too much to lose.

  The letter went on to resemble a true love-letter, heaping praise and endearments on Victoria Wickham, and poor Fitzwilliam was almost numb, it seemed. But when that one was finished, he said, 'Will you read the next one as well?'

  It was dated three months after the first, in November.

  My dearly beloved,

  I'm sorry I didn't write before now, we've been very busy with a young child underfoot. I find I'm glad to have Anne and our little boy over, he is such a joy, even when he cries I'm glad his lungs are strong and healthy.

  I'm also glad to hear that Wickham is treating you well, I always thought he had a very large heart, and I know he is very happy to have you as his wife,

  because he told me. Of course you must give him what is his due as your lawful husband, all men have appetites, even the most loving ones. I do realise your sacrifice, my dear, but marrying him was the only way we could be together regularly, and I feel much relieved to have you taken care of by someone I trust.

  Since the season is just getting started here, and Anne is up to some engagements these days, I think our stay in London may be of some duration.

  I will try to write as often as I can, please be very careful that Wickham doesn't catch you taking your letters to the temple, and make sure you burn mine to ashes, not leaving even the slightest decipherable remains.

  Well, one thing was certain, they were not going to find letters from Victoria Wickham to Richard Darcy, they had been burnt, the ashes scattered in the wind. The rest of this letter contained the same loving phrases that had undoubtedly convinced the young London nurse to marry a man she didn't know and didn't love to be close to the man she did love. A gentleman, married to a lady of an esteemed family, who was enjoying himself in London with his wife and baby, while his mistress was left behind in the country to please a man who at least loved her sincerely.

  'Georgie needs to read them as well, doesn't she?'

  Her beloved's voice was flat, he'd been shocked beyond his ability to actually feel it anymore, and she took some time to kiss him and embrace him lovingly. Poor Fitzwilliam, this was getting worse and worse, and he had never seen anything amiss.

  'I think so, yes. But please keep in mind that she never knew her father all that well, he was kind but they never had the special bond you had. It won't be as hard on her to find out that her father was seeing another woman.'

  'You may be right. I hope you're right. Please go on, let's have it over with, he didn't even have the decency to treat her well.'

  He most certainly didn't. Fortunately Mr Wickham had done that, even if he hadn't been the man Victoria Wickham really wanted, and even if she treated him miserably. The next three letters were spread over a whole year and contained a lot of flattery, but also seemed to show a further lack of feeling in Fitzwilliam's father. He would describe how pleasantly he was engaged with his wife and son in London, something that could only have been painful to his mistress. But still her epistles couldn't have been accusing or depressing, for by now she was with child herself, and from Richard Darcy's sincere congratulations and inquiries after her health she seemed pleased to be

  expecting. The next years saw the number of letters dropping, and apparently Fitzwilliam's mother's condition had worsened, forcing her to stay in the country all the time. Again, Richard Darcy entreated his dear Victoria to take good care of his wife, even if by now she had a small child herself.

  He no longer urged her to burn the letters, or to be cautious while writing or delivering them, he probably thought their arrangement worked perfectly well and would continue to do so, though their finding them proved nothing could stay hidden forever. So far, there hadn't been allusions that George Wickham might have been Richard Darcy's son, but it was more than clear that they had already been seeing each other at the time of his conception, which made it not unlikely at all.

  Elizabeth opened the last letter of the lot, with a date four years later than the previous seven. When she looked at her beloved he seemed steady enough to bear one more, how many unpleasant revelations could follow? His father had committed every imaginable sin already. Why write again after four years? Besides, they would still have seen each other often, Richard Darcy spent quite a lot of his time at Pemberley, and the Earl had remembered the Wickham family sometimes joining the adults in the evening.

  'Can you handle this last one, my love? This cannot be easy on you, you will let me be there for you when you tell Georgiana, won't you?'

  'It's not that bad, Elizabeth, truly, I kind of expected something like this, I can handle it. Please just read on and have it over with?'

  She nodded and started on the last letter.

  Dear Victoria,

  didn't I tell you to burn those letters? I told you to be careful, and now you tell me my letters have been stolen from your room? How do you know they were stolen, that you weren't just careless and left them lying about for someone to find? Wickham may have found them! Or the maid! You should have burned them as I said, now we may be in deep trouble.

  To be safe I will find a different way to send you news, I think my hunt master is getting tired of our never-ending flow of letters anyway, but do listen to me and burn them afterwards, my dearest! It is of great importance that you do, for I think Anne has talked to her sister when Catherine was at Pemberley just after tragedy struck. Or maybe she was delirious, as you know she did have a fever for a few days. And her brother Earl Compton also seemed

  restrained, I think they suspect, so be on your guard and get rid of any of my letters you still have. And stay out of their way when they visit Anne.

  That said, I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits, and I beg you to write to me soon and tell me whether Anne is telling me the truth when she says she is doing well. She was not when I left, and I'm afraid she is putting a brave face on our tragedy. Of course one expects a mother to grieve when she loses a child, even a newborn babe, but the labour had left her so weak and frail, I do worry. She so wanted a little girl, but it was just not meant to be. Would that I could have stayed with both of you, but there are some things that have to be done in town and I have to do them myself. Don't be foolish now and imagine me with another woman, you know I love only you and have loved only you from the moment we met. Why would I want to be with some cheap London tart if I can get back to you as soon as my business here is finished?

  And please, my love, do not argue with your husband over his wish to send George to school. If you want your son to be someone, he needs to go to school. I know he is still very young and a bit small and shy, but there is no other way. He'll toughen up quickly, and besides, it'll be at least a year before he is old enough. Don't worry about the cost, I'm good for it, it's the least I can do for little George, he is such a delightful boy. You just try to enjoy yourself over there and maybe I can persuade Wickham to
let you join me in London for a few days this winter. Generally he understands that some people do like society.

  Another few pages of endearments proved their love hadn't changed any, those missing letters had been written and sent and read, but they had disappeared. Maybe Fitzwilliam's mother had gotten a hold of them, or Mr Wickham. Elizabeth was a bit disappointed not to have found real proof of Wickham's parentage, so many awful details uncovered, but the real question was still unanswered. Maybe those missing letters held the key, but how would they find out where those were? Maybe they should go to that old hunt master, it couldn't have been Oliver for he was too young to have worked for Fitzwilliam's father.

  She did wonder how much suffering was hidden under most people's relatively normal lives. Mrs Hurst had no children, had she lost a child like so many others apparently had? And was Jane in danger, or, God forbid, Lydia's

  new baby?

  'Well, that's it,' Fitzwilliam observed, 'more details than I ever wanted to know about my father's life and miserable character, and not a line of evidence. Too bad. I guess we'll have to search the house then.'

  That was quite a task, Pemberley was just huge, and who knew where there would be loose boards or hidden drawers? But Earl Compton was going to search his sister's old room at his estate as well, maybe he would find something. And Richard Darcy did mention Lady Catherine a lot, she might know something. But who was going to ask her?

  Chapter 7

  For Frederick, their first week at Pemberley passed by quickly, with Elizabeth and Darcy out on their own most of the time, and the six others making themselves comfortable on the second floor. Sharing a room with Simon was an unimaginable luxury, and spending whole days together was everything they had hoped for. The constant frustration of being separated between servants' hall and front of the house was nearly forgotten, especially since they often dined together on the second floor, Elizabeth and Darcy going upstairs in their own house to visit their friends and relatives. Nick and Simon would assist the Pemberley staff fetching and carrying everything up two flights of stairs, and when the regular staff had been dismissed they sat down at the table and joined the revelry.