The Golden Apples of the Sun

by Ivy May Stuart

  Darcy grinned. “I have something a little more challenging in mind, you blockhead. I know that it is barely a month since you arrived home from Waterloo, but I need your help with Rosings. Would you be prepared to take it on - and I mean as your own? I would cede the property to you completely.”

  Seeing the shocked look on his cousin’s face, Darcy hastened to explain. “I would have waited a bit longer before springing this on you, but I’m asking now because I will need the help next season. Farming is challenging at the moment. We have been through a bit of a dry patch since you arrived home, but I have never known set-in rains like we’ve had over the last eighteen months and I don’t think we’re out of the woods. Aunt Catherine has not been coping. Someone needs to be there more or less permanently and it can’t be me anymore. As it is, I spend several months of the year travelling. Georgie is alone too much and I’m exhausted. So… will you take Rosings off my hands?”

  “Darce, I couldn’t! For one, it’s an enormous gift and I don’t deserve it. You were the one who made the sacrifice and married Anne for the sake of the family, while I was off doing as I pleased.”

  “Hardly as you pleased, Richard! Was my sacrifice equal to yours? I doubt it. Don’t think that I haven’t heard stories of the horrors that you men suffered on the continent. Look at it like this: you will be doing me a great favour. I have more than enough with the estates in Scotland and Ireland. I struggle to cope with Rosings, which I have had on my plate since I married Anne. It takes a lot of management and then Aunt Catherine constantly interferes. I would dearly like to get rid of it.”

  “Many people inherit properties, take the income and hardly visit them.”

  “That may be true. However, I’m not one of them. I like things properly done. Besides, can you see Aunt Catherine allowing anyone to neglect her or the estate? Also, Anne agreed to this. She wanted you to have Rosings too. We discussed the problem several months before she died and she thought that you would treat her mother well…” Here Darcy smiled wickedly at his cousin. “I didn’t disillusion her.’

  “But before we go any further, let me show you something else that will make the point of today’s excursion clearer,” said Darcy, turning to tramp back over the churned mounds of earth towards the gate. Richard wiped at the sweat beading his brow and followed in his cousin’s wake.

  At the gate the men re-mounted. Darcy was first to move away from the hedge. Tugging at the reins, he wheeled his horse to face up the lane and nudged it into a brisk trot. They rode through the heat for a while in silence, Richard attempting to digest the significance of Darcy’s startling offer.

  Certainly it would change my life, he thought. If Rosings were mine, I need no longer look upon myself as a second son, destined to eke out a living that is largely dependent upon Vincent’s charity once he inherits. I would be able to marry and have a sizeable inheritance to offer my children. But could I accept it? Should I accept it? Darcy is claiming that he is unequal to the challenge, but I don’t believe that for a moment. He has been generous with me in the past; but this passes all bounds. It is just too much. But then he said it was Anne’s wish too…

  They were passing some outlying cottages and moving into Pemberley Village. Their horses trotted along the quiet main road, through the gentle dappled light cast by an avenue of large oak trees. To Richard’s eye, the settlement seemed to have grown somewhat larger since he had last seen it. Darcy definitely kept the cottages in good order.

  As they reached the end of the road Darcy’s slowed his mount to a walk. They finally stopped in front of a large, new house standing well back from the road, behind a neat hedge. Through its open windows, Richard could hear the drone of children reciting their multiplication tables. The two men dismounted at the gate and passing through the hedge were confronted by a neat sign which declared that ‘Mr. Simon Rogers’ taught school there. It was a short walk up the sunny pathway – but enough time for a young woman, neatly attired in a grey dress with a white lace collar, to come out of the front door to greet them as they reached the bottom step.

  “Mr. Darcy. This is a surprise. We weren’t expecting you to call by today.”

  “Mrs. Rogers, this is my cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam. I wonder if I could ask for just few minutes of your time. I would like you to explain our mission to him.”

  “Certainly. Would you like to come inside?” she said, surprise showing in her eyes as she stepped back into the passageway behind her.

  They walked past the open classroom door, down the corridor to an office: a small, airy and relatively cool room. A light breeze stirred the pages of an open book lying on the battered desk and caught at and fluttered the petals of some wild flowers that stood in a vase on the windowsill. Richard sank into the nearest chair with a small sigh of relief and took out his handkerchief to mop his brow.

  “It’s the humidity,” he said, looking at Darcy, whose face was healthily bronzed from days spent outdoors. He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Tea, gentlemen?”

  “Not for us, Mrs. Rogers. We have things to do. We were only intending to stay a few minutes,” said Darcy, much to his cousin’s disappointment.

  Mrs. Rogers turned towards Richard and smiled. “Well, straight to business then, sir. Mr. Darcy asked my husband to create a school that was to be open to both the boys and girls of the estate. Parents place their children here voluntarily and at no charge. We aim to teach them the basics: reading, writing and arithmetic. We also assist the older children until they reach the point where they can - if they choose - attend the senior school at Lambton. Mr. Darcy requested us to be sensitive to the needs of both the family and community, so that when a child needs to take time off to assist at home or bring in the harvest, we adjust the learning schedule around his or her needs. The aim is to encourage those pupils who show ability, to see a future outside of Pemberley. He particularly wants the brighter young girls of the estate to have options in life - beyond marriage that is. Is that what you wanted me to explain, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Exactly that, Mrs. Rogers. Thank you for giving us your time and my best to your husband,” said Darcy, getting to his feet and nodding at his cousin, “Come, Richard.”

  Outside, the midday sun beat on their shoulders once more as their horses moved slowly off down the road and back in the direction of Pemberley.

  “So,” said Darcy, twisting sideways in his saddle to face his cousin, “you have just spent a month at Matlock and will have become accustomed once again to his lordship’s ways of doing things. I wanted to take you around Pemberley today to show you that there are different ways to manage an estate - this is my way and it’s obviously different to his.’

  “Your father and I had words about the supremacy of parliament as well as free trade while you were away. He was obviously annoyed with me because the last time that I saw Vincent in London, he told me that his lordship had said that it was his belief that I secretly support the Whigs.’

  “You know that I don’t and never have backed any particular party. Unlike him, I stay out of politics and focus my attention in the areas in which I can make a difference: that is in helping my tenants to maintain their dignity, make a decent living and have hope of a better future for their children. I think that it is important to be fair to those dependent on me. It’s a simple enough principle, but it has guided the management of this estate over the past few years. I thought that you ought to see what that looked like in practice before you go to Rosings and invent your own style. That is if you will take up my offer?”

  Richard looked at his cousin thoughtfully. “It would be a big task – an entirely new departure for me. I should like to think on it for a while, if I may?”

  Richard’s reluctance would have been puzzling to anyone but Darcy. It was based upon the very real uproar that this proposal would cause amongst the members of his immediate family. His father, the Earl of Matlock and head of the Fitzwilliam family, would be bound to argue that the property should,
by rights, have been ceded to him, so that he could dispose of it as he saw fit.

  Richard knew that - in that event - the property would eventually have gone to his older brother, as his father believed in retaining all power and assets as close as possible to the earldom. Certainly, Vincent - as his father’s heir - would also be annoyed at the removal of a lucrative source of income: the rents would, without doubt, have come in very handy when his gambling debts fell due.

  Richard’s mother would be the only one to take his side. But it was easy to predict that if things ran their usual course in his hot-tempered family, he would be accused of disloyalty and of secretly ingratiating himself with Darcy in order to ‘steal’ Rosings out from under their noses. There might even be some alienation from his father and brother for a while. But it was tacitly understood between him and Darcy that these were his problems. He was being given an opportunity to shape his own future. A simple acceptance or refusal of his generous offer was all that his cousin required.

  __________________________

  It was evening and the doors to the Chinese Salon stood open onto the terrace. Its occupants had gone outside to delight in the cool breeze that had made its way through the valley and brushed up against the side of the house: there to swirl against the building and stir the shiny leaves of the ornamental boxwoods that grew in planters on the edge of the terrace.

  “Heavenly,” said Georgiana Darcy, lifting her face to better experience the freshness of the evening air. “It was such a miserable summer that I never imagined that we would have this glorious weather over the harvest. Do you think that you will finish bringing the crops in by the end of next week?” she said, turning to Darcy.

  “I do. I think that Mrs. Reynolds and cook can set about organizing the Harvest Home now. We will have a full moon by then too,” he said, smiling as he looked at Richard, who was leaning against the balustrade, blissfully allowing the breeze to ruffle his hair. “All in all, we can count ourselves fairly lucky this year. It will not be a bumper crop but we will get by. We have certainly worked hard for what we have and everyone will be in the mood to celebrate.”

  “Brother,” said Georgiana, “I know that it’s particularly busy now, but as Richard will not be with us for much longer, I was thinking about taking him up to the Peaks: Ashford-in-the-Water in particular. Just for a day. Remember that lovely little inn where we stayed overnight with Anne, before she got too ill? Could you spare a day for that? I think it would do Richard good to reacquaint himself with one of the prettiest villages in rural England.”

  “I could actually. Would you like it, Richard? Davies from our village (you met him yesterday) is the local man in charge of the harvest and I have every confidence in him. Of course it would have to be tomorrow or the next day. You know that I like to work alongside of the reapers most days; but particularly for the last two, when everyone is tired and using up their last reserves of energy.”

  Richard paused before replying. “Of course, I’d love to go; but only if we agree not to stop off at Matlock on the way.” He raised his hand as Georgiana made to speak. “No questions, Georgie. Just take it that I would rather not have to do the pretty to his Lordship and my mother at the moment.”

  Darcy nodded his head in silent agreement, realizing that with this proviso, Richard had indicated his intention to take up the ownership of Rosings. He was relieved at the decision, for the offer had been made out of more than just generosity. Inch by inch, Darcy was loosening the ties between himself and his mother’s family. They were a demanding lot and he had resolved a while ago that he had given them quite enough of his life. In particular, his aunt’s affairs were a burden he was anxious to shrug off and Richard was without a living. With his cousin’s acceptance, he had just killed two birds with one stone.

  Chapter 25

  “All our lives, we long, we long, thinking it is the

  moon we long for.

  So how, when we meet it in the shape of a most fair

  woman, can we do less than leave all others for her?”

  W. B. Yeats

  Ashford-in-the-Water lay just north of Bakewell, nestled in amongst the district’s lofty hills. The village enjoyed close ties to the renowned Chatsworth Estate: home to the Duke of Devonshire and the Cavendish family. In fact, the duchy owned most of the cottages in which the villagers lived. Then too, old hatchments featuring the coat of arms of the Cavendish family, several members of whom had lived in the area from time to time, were prominently commemorated in the local church.

  Situated as it was on the River Wye, Ashford was the picture perfect English village. Shortly after their arrival and a stop off to look in at the local church, the three cousins took a slow walk towards the river. They ambled through streets lined with ancient stone cottages - made charming by the addition of colourful flowers which spilled from window boxes and grew out of crevices in the grey stonework. And as they strolled, Georgiana made frequent stops to peer down narrow lanes, to where shady trees hung low over walls and slatted gates afforded glimpses of the tranquil domesticity that lay beyond.

  When it seemed to the two men that she could not get enough of exclaiming over the charm of the occasional cat sleeping in the sun, the neat vegetable gardens and washing flapping on the lines, Richard began teasing her.

  “Georgiana,” he said, clasping his hands over his heart in a dramatic fashion. “Look over there. See…under that tree, a dog lying next to a milk pail!”

  “Richard, look over there. A tea shop and cakes in the window!” his young cousin retorted mischievously, in clear reference to her cousin’s enormous appetite which had been the cause of much amusement on the carriage ride into the village that morning.

  The town had no less than three bridges spanning the clear waters of the fast moving river and it was on one of these that the three cousins stopped to look down at the activities of the ducks below. Richard had just thrown a stick into the rapidly flowing waters, when a group of young people emerged into the street from the teashop they had just passed.

  “Brother, that’s Lucy Randall! She was a school friend of mine at Mrs. Crawford’s Academy,” Georgiana exclaimed. “Will you wait here with Richard while I speak to her?”

  “Don’t be silly. We’ll come with you, Georgie,” said Richard looking at Darcy for confirmation.

  But Darcy was silent. He stood looking at the group in the street, almost as if he had been struck dumb.

  “Darcy!”

  “Yes. Yes of course we should,” said Darcy and followed at some distance behind Georgiana and Richard as they retraced their steps.

  “Lucy,” cried Georgiana as she held onto the top of her bonnet and hurried towards the group who, with their bright dresses and parasols, made a pretty splash of colour against the grey stone of the building behind them.

  “Georgiana Darcy!” A young lady with fair ringlets darted out from their ranks. “I never thought to see you here!”

  A flurry of light kisses after the French fashion followed, and then Georgiana stepped back to say, “Nor I you! What are you doing in Ashford?”

  “We are touring with our cousin, Elizabeth Bennet, who is a great walker and won’t rest until she has seen the peaks. We will be staying overnight. She intends to drag us all up to Monsal Head tomorrow morning.”

  As she said the name ‘Elizabeth Bennet’ a distant bell chimed in Georgiana’s mind and she turned to look with interest at the dark-haired young lady whom her friend was bringing forward. Just then Richard arrived, closely followed by her brother.

  Miss Bennet happened to glance up past Georgiana as the two men approached. “Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed, the remark torn from her lips in surprise. Then remembering where she was, she turned her attention back to the young lady before her and dipped into a charming curtsey, “So pleased to meet you, Miss Darcy.”

  Georgiana opened her mouth to reply just as her brother stepped forward.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said, bowing in that lady�
�s direction and then immediately falling silent as he struggled for words. He had forgotten what it felt like to look at her: forgotten the petal smoothness of her skin; the exquisite clarity of her eyes.

  “You are acquainted?” Georgiana, Richard and Lucy Randall chorused in unison.

  “Indeed, in a distant time and place we were once sparring partners,” said Elizabeth gaily - clearly not as affected by the meeting as Darcy. “Mr. Darcy’s great friend, Charles Bingley, is married to my sister, Jane.”

  “Miss Bennet.” Richard boldly stepped forward. “As no one else seems inclined to introduce me, I will have to do the honours on my own behalf. Richard Fitzwilliam, Darcy’s cousin, at your service,” he said with a courtly bow. “May I hasten to add that I am almost certain that I met your elder sister some years ago in London and, should it be so, I can’t help but observe that beauty runs in the Bennet family?”

  “For which compliment my mother thanks you, sir,” Elizabeth responded, while blushing bright red.

  “And your father? Had he no part in it? But then where beauty is concerned, it is always our fate as men to be overlooked” lamented Richard, enjoying this small foray into flirtation with the lovely young woman before him.

  “My father would be loath to lay claim to beauty, sir,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “but I have never known him to refuse a compliment. No doubt he would justify it by pointing out that he deserves much of the credit for financing the folderols with which we girls adorn ourselves.”

  Darcy judged it time to speak before his cousin completely monopolized Elizabeth’s attention. He cleared his throat. “I see that you are well, Miss Bennet. It has been some time since I last spoke with Bingley. I believe that your sister was safely delivered of a son some while back. They are both in good health?”

  A small smile curved the corner of her mouth. “Indeed, Mr. Darcy, I have never seen a more contented couple. Little Charles is almost ten months old and when I left, he was clinging to the furniture in an attempt to cross the room to the nursery door. No doubt he imagines that there are all sorts of adventures awaiting him once he gets away from the clutches of his mother and nursemaid.”