Searching for Pemberley (16 page)

Let me give you an example of Bingham's poor judgment. The militia are encamped outside the village. The senior officers have been invited by Miss Garrison's aunt to her socials. Bingham sees this, and as a result, he invites all the officers to the ball at Helmsley Hall. 'The young ladies must have partners,' he tells me. The invitation includes the junior officers—men about whom he knows nothing. Many of these young officers are new to the regiment, and little is known of them even by their colonel. I cautioned him that after the ball, he might find the silver has gone missing. His solution is to write to his brother and have him send some of his men from London. Of course, it would have been unnecessary if he had thought about the consequences in advance.

I have come to have a high regard for Miss Garrison and Miss Elizabeth. But I have no illusions as to how Miss Garrison
would be treated in London society. You had only to listen to the comments made by Caroline after our return from dinner with the Garrisons. After a full hour of attacks on every family member, except Miss Garrison, her quiver was still half full.

I have become acquainted with some of the history of the Garrison family. Apparently, the estate, absent Mr. Garrison producing a son, is entailed away from the Garrisons to the benefit of Mr. Chatterton. This explains his visits to Hertfordshire. If he were to marry one of the daughters, it would solve the Garrisons' problem, if you can view marriage to Mr. Chatterton as a solution to anything. This goes a long way in explaining the mother's behaviour in promoting Miss Garrison so aggressively and why the younger daughters are all out before the elder sisters are married. But by allowing her younger daughters to be out in society without proper instruction, she risks the very thing she seeks. The Garrisons find themselves in an unfortunate position, but as Bingham's friend, I believe my loyalty lies with him. I cannot concern myself with the financial misfortunes of others.

I have asked Bingham to go up to London with me after the ball, but he will not commit. We have already missed the opening of the exhibition at the Royal Academy of Art. I understand that is no hardship for Bingham, but he has also missed the first balls of the season. And you know how Bingham loves to dance! If it were not for this infernal ball, I would already be in London this minute.

Yours,
Will

It was obvious from all the crossed out words that Will was agitated when he wrote this letter. After reading it, I liked Anne Desmet very much. It seemed as if she wanted her cousin to marry for love and to be happy with his choice of wife. On the surface, it appeared that Will was making a real effort not to fall in love, but his actions didn't match his words. He expressed his desire to return to London as soon as possible, but no one was forcing him to stay in the country.

10 May—The ball at HH was truly elegant. I wore my ivory dress and Jane put a wreath of white flowers in my hair and I was very pleased with the result. Many of the younger officers did not know all of the dances, but there were enough men available so that everyone who wished to dance had a partner. I danced all but two dances.

Both Mr. Laceys put in an appearance at the ball. The nice Mr. Lacey requested the second dance. There was little conversation while we waited our turn. After a prolonged silence, the gentleman talked about the weather. I said, 'Mr. Lacey, surely you can do better than that,' and lo and behold, Mr. Lacey smiled and said, 'Actually, Miss Elizabeth, at the moment, that is the best I can do.' At my prompting, we had a pleasant conversation, mostly about his sister, who is in London. Miss Lacey is learning the modern languages and is studying with a piano master. Other than business, this is the reason he travels back and forth to London so frequently. Even though he has all the advantages of elevated rank, I believe him to be a shy man, and despite his superior education, he has little talent for the light conversation one hears at these gatherings. Even so, I must admit I was very glad he had asked me to dance.

The ball had been in progress for about two hours when a group of four officers arrived. One officer, a Mr. Waggoner, had a brief discussion with Mr. Lacey, who was clearly surprised to see him, and his mood altered immediately. I danced with the gentleman, who seemed pleasant enough and is very handsome in his regimentals and well aware of it. Lucy, Celia, and their friends could hardly keep their eyes off of him. He told me he did know Mr. Lacey, as they were both from Derbyshire, but said no more.

The last dance went to Mr. Lacey, who spoke hardly a word. Instead of enjoying the dance, he gave every appearance of being annoyed. Exasperated, I asked him why he gave himself the trouble of dancing when he disliked the amusement so much. He said nothing and left the room. It is impossible to understand this man!

As I waited for our carriage, Mr. Lacey approached me. He led me by the hand to an area under the staircase and said: 'I am returning to London in the morning. I noticed you were talking to George Waggoner. May I advise you to avoid this man and be wary of anything he may say.'

I do not know what to make of this. I also do not know what to make of the fact that, all the while he was talking, he was holding my hand. I am very fond of complex characters, but Mr. Lacey may be too complex, even for me. When he said he was returning to London, did he mean permanently?

There was nothing in Lizzy's diary to indicate that anything was amiss with regard to Jane and Mr. Bingley. When Charles came by to tell Jane he was returning to London, no alarm bells went off. In fact, the big news was not about the ball, or Jane
and Charles, but the engagement between Charlotte Ledger and Mr. Chatterton. Just as in the novel, Lizzy was stunned by the announcement, and because her circumstances were similar to her friend's, she was feeling particularly vulnerable about her future. However, she was confident Jane would have no such worries because it was so obvious that Charles was in love with her.

20 May—Mr. Bingham called this morning and told Jane that he has been asked to return to London by his brother, George, whom she knows to be something of a father figure to him. He said he did not know when he would return. Poor Jane! How is she to survive without her Mr. Bingham?

30 May—Is it not always the way? The servants learn everything first. Mrs. Brown tells us the steward at Helmsley Hall has been in town paying all of the bills and informed the butcher that the ladies of the house have returned to London to join their brother. What does all this mean? Jane has not heard from Mr. Bingham, and he is now gone ten days.

4 June—Jane does not think I hear her crying at night. She says Mr. Bingham owes her no explanation for his absence and defends his behaviour saying he made no promises, and I am unfair to reproach him. How is it possible that a man so obviously in love with someone can disappear for two weeks without explanation? His sisters and friend must be behind this.

5 June—We have news from Mr. Glynn, who leased HH to Mr. Bingham, that he has been instructed to cover the furniture and shutter the windows. This means Mr. Bingham
has no intention of returning to HH any time soon. I would not have believed him capable of such unkindness.

I agreed with Lizzy. Even though Charles had given into pressure from Will Lacey and his brother, he should have written to Jane to let her know he was leaving Hertfordshire for good. Instead, his lack of consideration left Jane listening for news in the village about Helmsley Hall or checking the post for a letter explaining his absence.

17 June—Everything is now as it was before Mr. Bingham came to Hertfordshire, except that Charlotte and Mr. Chatterton were married today in the parish church. Charlotte has already asked me to visit her in Kent. I agreed to visit but not immediately. I have had enough of Mr. Chatterton and his dissertations for a while. Aunt Sims has written to Jane to come to London. There is so much more to do in town that will divert her mind from other thoughts. When Jane goes to Aunt's house, I will travel with her to London and then on to see Charlotte.

2 July—I have had a most enjoyable stay with Aunt and Uncle Sims, and I believe Jane's mood has much improved. We went to the summer theatre at Haymarket and to a concert at Vauxhall Gardens, which was followed by fireworks. Sir Arthur Morton, a friend of Uncle's, hosted a private ball where Jane and I were asked to dance every dance. Last night, we went with Aunt and Uncle to Ranelagh Gardens and heard Mr. Leonardi, an Italian tenor, sing selections from
Don Giovanni
. Today's newspapers reported that,
after we had left, the Prince of Wales arrived and was seen in the company of Lady Jersey, and that they stayed until dawn. Uncle's man will see me to Kent in two days. With all there is to do in London, I wish I could delay my departure, but Charlotte writes for me to hurry.

These last items from Elizabeth Garrison's diaries, along with the earlier ones that Beth had given to me when she was in London, were all in chronological order. Without the distraction of jumping around in time or from one story to another, what was becoming evident was that Elizabeth Garrison and William Lacey's story was remarkably close to the events in
Pride and Prejudice
. I could not understand how the two stories could be so alike unless the parties knew each other, and if they had, surely Beth would have mentioned it. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. I just couldn't think what it was.

IN FEBRUARY 1948, THE Communists took over the government in Czechoslovakia, ratcheting up an already strained situation in Europe. Tensions again increased when President Truman refused to give the Soviet Union war reparations from West German industrial plants. Josef Stalin responded by splitting off the Russian occupation zone as a Communist state. It appeared that a conflict was possible between the former allies.

The following month, the Army Exchange Service notified its employees that it would shortly be reducing staff in England and increasing it in Germany. When I told Rob about the announcement, he said he had a feeling he would be hearing from TRC's headquarters in the near future, which would mean he would return to Atlanta and then, possibly, Flagstaff. He often told me he wanted me to see all the great sights that were so near to his home: the Grand Canyon, Petrified Forest, and the red rock country, but marriage was never specifically mentioned.

One drizzly Saturday afternoon, after we had made love, I asked Rob it we had a future beyond our terms of employment
in England. After a lengthy silence, he answered, “I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say here.” I got dressed and told him I was leaving. Before he could get his pants on, I was down the stairs and out the door. On the way home, I stopped at Boot's Chemist Shop and bought Alka Seltzer. This relationship was starting to affect my digestive system.

Pressure increased at work with the next memo from the AES personnel office. Don Milne, my boss, wanted to give his staff the heads-up and told everyone to assume they would be transferred to Germany. A second option was a ticket on a ship back to the States. Because I worked for Don, I would be able to stay in my job as long as he had his. Even though I had heard from friends that conditions in Germany had improved considerably since those first two dreadful years after the war, I had no intention of going back, especially in light of the current situation with the Soviets. I felt about returning to Germany in the same way that Elizabeth Garrison felt about marrying the reverend, Mr. Chatterton. It wasn't going to happen.

Although my future with Rob was uncertain, his relationship with Mrs. Dawkins was going great guns. Rob's soft-spoken Western drawl had won over my landlady, and the packs of Wrigley's gum he brought the boys didn't hurt, either. As a result, Rob and I were given permission to use the front parlor instead of the kitchen. We had to keep the door open and “mind the carpet,” but it was a big improvement over the kitchen table.

We were holding hands on the sofa when Rob told me about his dinner with Jack Crowell at the Engineer's Club. He described the club as a place that would have seemed familiar to President Lincoln. “I've seen caves with more light. There were
waiters in there who were probably on staff when Victoria was queen.” Victoria had died in 1901.

Rob said their conversation was all over the map. “Let's see here,” Rob said, reading from a cheat sheet. “Christopher Lacey, Will Lacey's son, made a fortune in railroads. He donated the property for a railway station near his home, which would become the town of Stepton. By the way, the Lacey Trust still owns ALL of the property under Stepton and collects rent from every business and residence in the town.”

“That's similar to what happened in Scranton and Minooka,” I said. “The coal companies sold the houses to the miners but kept all the mineral rights. In some cases, they kept right on mining, and a few of the houses near my Grandma Shea's started going down into the mines.” That merited a raised eyebrow from Rob.

Scanning his paper, he said enthusiastically, “Oh, you'll like this story. Christopher's son, Andrew, made a fortune in steel, but he also continued to control every aspect of the import/ export business his father had built. He and his partners owned textile mills in India, the ships that brought the cargo to Europe, received special rates from the railways, and had controlling interests in several collieries that provided the coal for his trains. In America, that type of operation is considered to be a monopoly, and it's illegal.”

“When am I supposed to start liking this story? It sounds like the coal operators who impoverished my grandparents.”

“The romantic part's coming,” Rob continued. “During the Christmas holidays, Andrew went around to the different offices giving out envelopes with a little something extra in them. The office personnel were allowed to invite their families to a holiday party, and at the Sheffield office, thirty-year-old Andrew met
the daughter of his bookkeeper, nineteen-year-old Marianne Dickinson. Apparently, she was one of the great beauties of her time. Andrew was smitten—Jack's word—and they got married and had five children, including Beth's father. It's kind of a Cinderella story,” and he started to sing “Isn't It Romantic.”