Mr. Darcy's Daughter

The
Pemberley Chronicles 05 Mr.. Darcy's Daughter

By Rebecca Ann Collins

PROLOGUE

Spring 1864

CASSANDRA
GARDINER WAS NOT generally given to attacks of anxiety.

Being
of a calm disposition, with sufficient good sense and understanding to
withstand the appeal of paranoia, she usually had little reason to be troubled
or apprehensive. Married happily to Doctor Richard Gardiner, a physician whose
knowledge and skill were widely recognised, her life was generally well ordered
and satisfying. Her husband and children gave her such affection and pleasure
as many women would have envied, and even after five lively children, she was a
remarkably vivacious and handsome woman. Moreover, her health was good, her
education and understanding excellent; by most standards she would have been
judged a very fortunate woman indeed.

Yet,
on this mild evening in the Spring of 1864, Cassy was unable to shake off a
persistent, inexplicable feeling of unease. It had surfaced as she had returned
home from a meeting with her sisters-in-law Caroline Fitzwilliam and Emily
Courtney. The women had met to make plans for a campaign to collect funds to
equip two new classrooms at the parish school at Kympton, on her father Mr.
Darcy's estate, Pemberley.

Mr.
Darcy had recently informed her that the buildings were ready for the new term.
They needed only to be suitably furnished and Cassy, together with Rebecca Ann
Collins

Caroline
and Emily, had decided to form a committee to raise the funds required.
Cassandra had thought to invite Rebecca Tate, the influential wife of Mr.
Anthony Tate and mother of Josie, who was married to Cassy's brother Julian,
and everyone agreed there was no more active and energetic member of the
community than Mrs. Tate.

While
Cassy led a somewhat quiet social life, Mrs. Tate, by virtue of her husband's
business contacts and her own charitable work, moved in a far wider circle of
society. Cassandra was sure she was a good choice, and the others had
concurred, noting that Becky Tate would be an asset to their committee.

"If
Becky cannot raise the funds from her business friends, no one can,"

Caroline
had said, as they arranged to meet for tea at the Fitzwilliams' farm at Matlock
to discuss campaign plans.

But
despite her stated enthusiasm for their project, Mrs. Tate had failed to appear
that afternoon, nor had she sent any apology or explanation for her absence.
Cassandra had been rather irritated; it was not very polite or responsible, she
thought, trying hard to conceal her aggravation from the others, especially
when it was their first meeting.

Disturbingly,
it was also very uncharacteristic of Becky Tate, whose reliability was a byword
in their community.

Furthermore,
Cassy had been counting on Mrs. Tate to represent her daughter at the meeting.
Julian and Josie, who lived in Cambridge, rarely found time to attend any of
these occasions in Derbyshire.

Cassy's
parents had long since ceded to the younger generation the organisation of such
activities. There was the annual Harvest Fair, the Music Festival, and the
Pemberley Children's Choir, which gave concerts around the district. All had
been initiated by Elizabeth and had grown so prodigiously in size and
popularity, they were now run by professional managers. Cassandra represented
her parents on almost all the boards and committees and felt it was her duty to
keep her brother Julian informed, even though he showed scant interest in them.

Indeed,
to everyone's astonishment, neither Julian nor his wife had attended the
wedding of his cousin Frank Grantley to Caroline's daughter Amy at Pemberley
just a week or so ago. An express had brought their apologies--Josie was
ill--but Cassandra knew her parents had been very disappointed and, though
their aunt Mrs. Grantley, mother of the groom, had said little, it was easy to
see she was both surprised and grieved by their absence.

"I
suppose, they must be exceedingly busy at this time," Georgiana Grantley
had mused, softly adding, "and Derbyshire is rather a long way from
Cambridge, is it not?"

But
Cassy had not been fooled. Her gentle aunt was clearly hurt by Julian's
non-appearance.

As
they had sat waiting that afternoon in the parlour for Mrs. Tate to arrive,
Caroline had pointedly reminded Cassy that her brother and his wife had not
participated in any of the events at Pemberley since they had returned to
Cambridge at the end of Summer.

"They
do seem quite disinterested, Cassy, content to leave it all to you," she
had remarked, adding pointedly, but without any trace of malice, for it was not
in Caroline's nature to be deliberately hurtful, "Sometimes, I do wonder
whether Julian wants to be Master of Pemberley at all."

Though
the remark affected her, Cassandra had laughed and shrugged off the
implication, replying casually that she and her parents understood the very
great importance of Julian's scientific work at Cambridge.

"He
is working very hard on an important scientific study to do with the prevention
of certain tropical diseases. His work is highly regarded by his fellow
scientists," she had said and continued, "In any event, the matter of
becoming the Master of Pemberley can only be speculative at this time. As you
well know, Papa is in the best of health and likely to remain so for the
foreseeable future."

She
had spoken quickly, her voice sounding more defensive than she had intended it
to be. The remark had been lightly made, but as soon as she had said it, she
could have bitten off her tongue, for Cassandra knew that Caroline and Emily's
father, Mr. Gardiner, was gravely ill and not expected to live out the year.

Caroline's
usually bright countenance was instantly shadowed by an expression of deep
sadness, and tears filled Emily's eyes. Cassy apologised at once, sorry for the
grief she had caused, however unwittingly, yet there was little she could do or
say to comfort her cousins. They both knew the truth only too well.

Richard
had made quite certain of that.

Thereafter,
they had sat in silence, until Emily declared it was time to go home.
"Quite obviously, Becky Tate is not coming, there is no point waiting any
longer. Besides," she said, "I have some parish work to do, and Mr.
Courtney will worry if I am not home before dark."

*

The
mild evening was drawing in as Cassy reached her home. On alighting from the
carriage and entering the house, she was greeted by James, her youngest son,
who was but four years old. "Where's Papa?" he demanded, reaching up
to embrace his mother, as she divested herself of her hat and wrap.

Cassandra
was surprised to learn that her husband was not home already.

Dr
Gardiner, whose enviable reputation had the sometimes unfortunate consequence
of keeping him working late at the hospital, always called in at his parents'
home near Lambton, at the end of each day. Aware of his father's critical
condition and his mother's consequent distress, he never failed to visit them,
no matter how busy his day had been. Often, his eldest son Edward, only
recently down from medical school in Edinburgh, would accompany him.

The
Gardiners were always glad to see them, and Mr. Gardiner had quipped that two
doctors must be better than one. Not even his debilitating condition could dull
Mr. Gardiner's sense of humour. Throughout his ordeal, he had remained for the
most part uncomplaining and cheerful.

A
quiet, serious young man, his grandson Edward had a strong social conscience,
which made it almost inevitable that he would soon follow in his father's
footsteps. Unlike his younger brother Darcy, whose interest in business and
politics had steered him in the direction of London and Westminster, Edward
rarely concerned himself with anything outside the world of medicine, unless it
was music, which appeared to be his only other interest. A keen listener and a
proficient practitioner on the pianoforte himself, he would travel many miles
to attend a good performance.

Their
mother, who loved them both dearly, wanted nothing more for her sons than that
they should lead happy and useful lives as their father had done for all the
years of their remarkably felicitous marriage.

To
this end, she had given them all her love and devoted most of her energy and
time to her family. She had been rewarded with their unconditional affection
and a good deal of satisfaction.

In
this last year, however, the shadow of Mr. Gardiner's illness, as he lay
weakened by bouts of heart disease, had fallen over their lives. Though Richard
did not speak of it often or at length, lest it should distress her and the
younger children, particularly James, who was his grandfather's favourite,
Cassy knew well that her husband felt deeply about his father's illness and was
troubled by his inability to do more to ease his discomfort.

Richard
Gardiner was involved in medical research and had consulted many colleagues in
the hope of finding some treatment that would alleviate Mr. Gardiner's
condition, but without much success. Time and again, his wife had detected his
mood of sadness and tried to comfort him. Always, he was grateful for her love
and concern, yet there was an inevitability about the fate that awaited his
father, which made him feel helpless and frustrated.

*

As
the sun dipped behind the crags and peaks to the Northwest, setting ablaze the
gorse on the hill slopes, while pitching into darkness the river gorges and
valleys below, Cassy, whose disquiet had increased considerably over the past
half hour, picked up her wrap and, pulling it around her shoulders, walked down
the drive, which led to the road that curled away towards Lambton. The wind
coming down from the peaks was cold and sent an involuntary shiver through her
body.

Richard
had never been this late before.

Seeing
her mother leave the house, her elder daughter Lizzie, who had been practising
at the pianoforte in the parlour, stopped playing abruptly and went out to join
her. They were close and Lizzie had sensed her mother's unease.

When
she caught up with her, she asked, "What is it, Mama? What's been
troubling you? Has there been some bad news, about Grandfather, I mean? Have
you heard something?"

Cassy,
glad of her company, replied quickly, "No my dear, not at all; I was only
wondering why Papa and Edward are so late tonight. They should have been home
an hour or more ago."

Lizzie
knew her father always called at his parents' home and was sure it must be bad
news about Mr. Gardiner that was delaying him. Taking her mother's arm, she
said quietly, "Could it be that Grandfather's condition has worsened
suddenly?" and hearing her sigh, she went on.

"Mama,
you know we have been warned to expect it at any time. Papa has tried to
prepare us for it; even my dear grandmother knows it will not be long
now," she said, her voice both gentle and amazingly mature for her age.

Cassy
marvelled at her daughter's composure and wished she could have said something
sensible. But she was devoted to her father-in-law and all she could say was,
"I know, my love, but it does not make it any easier to bear, does
it?"

As
her feelings appeared to get the better of her and she took out her
handkerchief, Lizzie reached for her hand.

At
that very moment, they heard the sounds of the carriage, even before it came
into view around the deep bend in the road from Lambton.

"They're
here!" cried Lizzie cheerfully, as the vehicle turned into the drive and
Edward leaned out to greet them.

Cassy
smiled and dried her tears, as Lizzie quickened her steps to reach the door as
they alighted. She went directly to her brother, who kissed his mother and went
indoors. Lizzie followed him, eager for news, as he entered the parlour, where
tea awaited them.

Richard,
meanwhile, his face grave, his voice serious, put an arm around his wife and
took her upstairs, stopping only to accept a welcoming hug from his youngest
son. The boy, hearing his voice, had raced out of the nursery, defying his
nurse's pleas, to greet his father. Having disengaged himself from the child's
embrace, with a promise that he would visit the nursery later, Dr Gardiner
returned to his wife.

After
her first flush of relief at seeing them safely home, reassured there had been
no sudden deterioration in Mr. Gardiner's condition, Cassy was beginning to
worry again. She was bewildered by the gravity of her husband's countenance.
What, she wondered, could have caused such disquiet, if it was not his father's
health?

Richard
did not keep her long in suspense. Once in their private apartments, he shut
the door and, having sat her down, took from his pocket a letter. It was short,
not quite filling a page, and it was from her brother Julian.

"Cassy,
my love," said Richard, by way of explanation, "this letter was
delivered to me by express at the hospital this afternoon. As you see, it is
from your brother."

He
held it out to her. Cassy, already apprehensive of the news it may contain,
took the letter. It was written in the untidy scrawl that Julian used, claiming
he had never found the time to practice formal copperplate, but it was even
less legible than usual, clearly penned in great haste. He wrote:
My dear
Richard,