Mr. Darcy's Daughter (17 page)

Elizabeth
was very touched and quite determined to forget any reservations she'd had
about Josie. There could be no truth in any of them, she decided. Josie
certainly did not appear unhappy.

Sadly,
the same could not be said of Julian, whose anxious expression, which had
haunted his mother since their meeting at Netherfield earlier in the season,
seemed only to have intensified.

To
be fair, he did his best to participate in everything, from singing carols with
the children to charades, which Elizabeth knew he hated, but she remained
unconvinced.

*

On
Christmas Day, the family went to church and gathered afterwards at Pemberley
House, exchanging gifts and indulging in all those customary pursuits that seem
to have a special meaning at Christmastime. The children's choir, which
Elizabeth had started when she first came to Pemberley as a bride, sang
sweetly, enhancing the atmosphere of tranquility, and the Christmas tree drew
the children like a beacon.

There
was good news, too, from Jane and Bingley who arrived bearing a letter with
warm greetings to the rest of the family from Jonathan and Anna Bingley at
Netherfield. In his letter, Jonathan had revealed that his eldest son Charles,
a physician, who had spent some years working in London among the poor in some
of the worst slums of the city, was moving back to Hertfordshire.

"It
means," Jane explained, "that their search for a good physician for
Anne-Marie's hospital at Bell's Field is over. Jonathan says, when Charles told
her of his decision, Anne-Marie was so excited, she sat down that very night,
even though she and Mr. Elliott were on their honeymoon, and wrote her father a
letter to break the good news!"

This
piece of information brought a mixed response.

Mr.
Bingley could not speak highly enough of his granddaughter's dedication.
"Anne-Marie's devotion to her cause, be it the wounded soldiers or the
care of ailing children, will always take precedence over anything else."

Josie,
who had been silent throughout this conversation, spoke up for the first time,
and her words surprised them all. "Is there not some danger in such a
life? Is it not likely that a woman may put all else before her own
satisfaction and thereby forego her chance of happiness altogether?" she
asked.

Although
she had spoken very quietly, the unambiguous import of her words carried to
everyone around the dinner table. Yet, it was a while before someone responded.

Mr.
Bingley, surprised at being picked up on his words, was silent, seeming to
concentrate upon his dinner, but his wife Jane said, "But Josie, it is the
kind of work in which Anne-Marie has always found great satisfaction. It is her
life.

She
was never happier than when she was tending the wounded at Harwood Park. She
felt she was doing something really worthwhile."

Josie
agreed but added, "Indeed, Mrs. Bingley, and so she was, until she let
herself be persuaded that she may do even more worthwhile work by marrying the
Reverend Bradshaw. Now, surely no one denies
that
was a disastrous decision."

There
was a gasp from Jane, who looked down immediately, clearly hurt by her words.

"Josie,
please," Cassy interrupted, scarcely able to help herself.

There
was absolute silence around the table; it was as if someone had flung a bucket
of icy water over the gathered company. Both Jane and Mrs. Gardiner looked
stunned and censorious, Darcy's expression was one of impenetrable gloom, while
Elizabeth, for once, could find no words to fill the yawning gap of time as the
minutes ticked by. Poor Julian looked absolutely wretched.

Jenny
Grantham must have known something was amiss, for she chose that very moment to
send in the flaming Christmas pudding and break the cold silence. While no one
said anything very significant, at least they could all eat, and the plump,
fragrant Christmas pudding, in all its glory, brought the usual admiring
exclamations and compliments to the cook.

Unhappily,
it did nothing to improve Julian's mood of depression and, by the time the
ladies withdrew to the drawing room, he had excused himself and retired to his
room. As those downstairs heard the door slam shut, Elizabeth and Cassy
exchanged glances, while Josie moved away to study a familiar work of art with
a new level of intensity.

*

On
the morrow, being Boxing Day, Cassandra arrived after breakfast to join her
parents when they handed out the traditional Christmas boxes to the household
staff and farm workers. To her surprise, her brother was there, too.

Clearly,
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were pleased.

Some
former servants were too frail or sick to attend the festivities at the house,
and Cassy had agreed to take their boxes to them, together with hampers of
festive fare prepared by Mrs. Grantham. She sought out Julian and invited him
to accompany her. Josie, she was told, was still asleep, tired after her long
journey and the previous day's celebrations, but Julian was happy to oblige.

As
brother and sister set out together around the estate, he seemed to recover
some of his spirits. They talked lightly and cheerfully of times past and the
people they had known. When they visited the house of Mrs. Thompson, who had
been their nurse for many years, now crippled with rheumatism, she was so
pleased to see them that tears flowed down her cheeks. Julian was visibly
moved.

As
they left the cottage and he helped his sister into the carriage, he said, in a
voice that left her in no doubt of his mood, "Ah, Cassy, if only one could
bring back those carefree childhood days. I shall never forget the kindness of Mrs.
Thompson and her niece Nellie, who used to play with me endlessly; if only my
son could have someone to love and indulge him as they did."

Astonished
not only by his words, but by the depth of feeling in his voice, Cassy slowed
the carriage down and asked, "Julian, what do you mean? Is there something
you have not told any of us? Why do you speak so sadly of Anthony?

Is
he not loved and cared for?"

Her
voice was low and troubled and her brother knew he had to speak now. His words,
at first, were slow and halting, but then they broke free of the restraint he
had placed upon himself for well over a year and tumbled out, as he could no
longer hold them back. He spoke quietly but with an intensity that surprised
and disturbed Cassy, who listened, scarcely able to believe what she heard.

"Cassy,
you will probably never understand my situation, you who are so serenely happy
and content in your marriage with Richard. But I must tell someone; I can no
longer keep this to myself. My wife Josie no longer loves me and has made it
quite plain that she stays with me only because of our son. I am no longer
necessary to her happiness; indeed, one might even say I was inimical to it."

Seeing
his sister's shocked expression, he put a hand upon hers to comfort her.
"You must not look so startled, Cassy; remember, I did try to warn you
when you visited us." He reminded her of the occasion in the parlour of
their house in Cambridge, when she had scolded him for his pessimism.

"As
for Anthony, he does not receive as much of his mother's love and care as he
did before. He is a good, well-behaved child, and I must give her credit for
that; but now, it is Susan, her maid, who has almost sole care of him. Josie is
kept busy with her writers' circle and her poetry readings; they take up a
great deal of her time."

His
words were quite matter of fact, as though he had long accepted the status quo
and could see no way to change it.

Cassandra
could not continue to listen without asking, "My dear brother, are you
telling me that Josie neglects her child? This surely cannot be true; I know
she loves Anthony dearly."

He
shook his head and said, "I cannot use that word, Cassy. I am sure Josie
would not believe for one moment that she neglects him; she ensures that he has
everything he needs. But the affection and care that he gets comes mainly from
Susan, to whom he is closer than to either of his parents."

Cassy
said she had noticed how attached the child was to the young maid but had
assumed there was nothing unusual in it.

"Children
do become very fond of those who care for them," she said.

"Except
that you and I know that, much as we loved Mrs. Thompson or Nellie, it was Mama
who came first, always."

Cassy
had to agree. Her brother was right, yet she was confused by his words and
wished she could get clearer answers to her questions.

They
were approaching the point in the road where they had to turn off towards
Pemberley House, and he begged her not to speak a word of this to their
parents.

"Because
it would cause them so much pain and I could not bear to be the source of
it," he said.

"But,
Julian," Cassy persisted, "what is behind this strange behaviour?
There must be a reason why Josie acts this way, surely?"

He
would say nothing more. She tried but did not succeed in getting him to give
her an answer; nor would he make any criticism of Josie. All he would say was
that his wife seemed to have grown tired and impatient with his research work
which, since it was all about invisible creatures who could only be seen under
a microscope, held no interest for her at all.

"She
says she is now hopeful of getting an anthology of her work published in London
and, of course, that takes precedence over all else in her life. It will be the
culmination of all her hopes, the fulfillment of a childhood dream, which she
has never abandoned," he said.

As
Cassy, by now too shocked and distressed to speak, concentrated upon getting
the vehicle over the bridge, he pleaded, "Promise me, Cassy, that you will
not let Josie discover that I have spoken with you on this matter."

His
sister listened, incredulous, as he went on, "She must not feel any change
in your attitude towards her, nor must she be in any way isolated, or she will
know I have broken my silence and she will not forgive me. I will lose her and
my son.

Please,
will you give me your word, Cassy? Will you keep my secret?"

Cassandra
could not refuse; so insistent was he, she had to promise, adding that she
would send young Lizzie to them in the New Year.

He
looked genuinely pleased. "God bless you, Cassy, you are the kindest
sister a fellow could hope for. Lizzie will do us all a deal of good; Anthony
adores her," he said, smiling in spite of himself. In that fleeting
moment, she caught a rare glimpse of the young brother she had helped raise all
those years ago when, with William gone, she had wondered if there would ever
be another Darcy to become the Master of Pemberley and young Julian had seemed
the answer to all her prayers.

*

When
they reached the house, they discovered that Mr. and Mrs. Tate, Josie's
parents, had called and, having taken refreshments with the family, they had
left taking Josie, Anthony, and the maid Susan with them.

When
Cassy expressed some surprise, Elizabeth explained cheerfully, "It is only
for a day; they will be back tomorrow afternoon. Meanwhile, we shall have you
all to ourselves, Julian, and you must tell us about this convention you are to
address in Paris. That must be a great honour."

Cassy
noticed that her brother Julian did not look very cheerful at all. It was as
though he was not convinced that his wife and son would be back on the morrow.
He did, however, cheer up considerably when, a short while later, his nephews
Edward and Darcy Gardiner arrived and were invited to stay to dinner.

They
had much to talk about. Edward, though the quieter of the two, was most
interested in Julian's research, being himself a physician, while Darcy could
always be relied upon to entertain a party with a fund of lively political
anecdotes and a talent for parody that was guaranteed to amuse.

"You
must come with us to Rushmore Farm tomorrow, Julian. You will like my friend
Michael Carr, the new owner; he has some astonishing tales of life in
America," he said. Julian who had not known that the farm had been sold,
so out of touch was he with matters concerning the county, was eager to hear
more and, as the afternoon wore on, his spirits seemed to improve quite markedly.
As Cassy said afterwards to her sons, she had not seen him engage in such
animated conversation with anyone else.

After
the Gardiners had left, Julian grew more thoughtful; outside the weather
changed and snow began to fall. It snowed all night and great drifts covered
the grounds. When the following day dawned almost reluctantly, since there was
no sun to speak of, any hopes he may have had of driving out to Matlock and
Rushmore Farm were dashed, as news came that the road between Pemberley and Matlock
was blocked by snow and two carriages had already been stranded on the bridge.

Another
day passed with no message from Josie or the Tates, and Julian's concern was
more obvious, especially since he was due to return to his college in Cambridge
by the New Year. His parents, now alone with their unhappy son, sensed and
understood his anxiety but could do little to reassure him.