Women of Pemberley (3 page)

If only the truth were known.
Jane had spent a miserable summer, unable to confide in anyone-- neither her husband nor her sister--because Emma had sworn her to secrecy. Fearful that her husband would discover what he would deem to be her disloyalty and forbid her to see her parents, Emma had begged her mother not to speak of her problems to anyone. Jane had heeded her pleas, until today. Forced to explain to her dearest sister the reason for Emma's absence, she had not been able to conceal the truth any longer.
Elizabeth returned to take them indoors and, putting an arm around her sister, she whispered as they walked up to the house, "Darcy and Bingley are riding out to Kympton later; that will give us time to talk of this again."
Perhaps for the first time in her life, Jane did not really look forward to a tete-a-tete with her sister. She was afraid Emma would be very upset.
Later, after luncheon, she was secretly relieved when the Gardiners arrived, together with Emily, her husband James Courtney, and their children--Elizabeth, William, and Jessica.
Their arrival kept Elizabeth occupied, while Emily, who had not seen Jane in several months, lost no time in engaging her cousin in conversation. Jane was eager to hear how Emily's children were getting on, and Emily, who had been blessed with three talented and good-natured children, was happy to enlighten her. Her natural modesty would not let her boast about their achievements, but she was happy to relate that Elizabeth, her eldest, was very bright and studious and could sing as well, while William and little Jessica had both shown an interest and ability in music.
"It is quite diverting to watch them help each other when they are practising together. But I am really pleased that William shows what his teacher calls a genuine talent, rather than mere precociousness," Emily explained, adding that Georgianna Grantley had also heard him play at a Pemberley children's concert and been very impressed by his performance.
It seemed to Jane as if she could not get away from all these happy, loving parents and their darling children while her own granddaughters and their mother languished unhappily in London.
Which was why the arrival of her son Jonathan and his wife AmeliaJane with their three children brought so much pleasure. The warmth of their greetings and the joy of seeing her dear grandchildren brought some comfort. "Anne-Marie, how you've grown--quite the young lady, is she not?" said Jane, and everyone agreed that she was.
While her brother Charles was very like their grandfather--cheerful and friendly--young Anne-Marie Bingley was showing evidence of the beauty and poise that had characterised her mother at a very young age.
Turning to little Teresa, who was several years younger than her siblings, Jane picked her up in her arms.
This little girl was very precious, since they had nearly lost her at birth. Still rather frail, though remarkably bright and active, Teresa was her grandmother's favourite. Frequently, when her parents had to be away in London--when the Parliament was sitting--Teresa would stay with her at Ashford Park, while the older children remained at home with their governess. Consequently, a close and loving bond had grown between them.
Meanwhile, Mrs Gardiner, having spent the required amount of time with all her lively grandchildren, accepted her niece's invitation to rest awhile upstairs. There Elizabeth took the opportunity to acquaint her aunt with the troubles of Wickham and Lydia. Even Mrs Gardiner, who, like Darcy, was usually unsurprised by the behaviour of this recalcitrant pair, was shocked by Mrs Brewerton's letter and as censorious as Jane had been. She did confirm, however, that she and Mr Gardiner agreed with Darcy that not to help Lydia would probably leave them to the mercy of money lenders and pawn brokers, who would only drag them further down into the mire and damage their own families, as well.

Elizabeth accepted, without argument, the truth of this contention. "I accept all of that, dear Aunt, but it pains me to have to help them again and again while knowing that they are not only totally ungrateful, but given any opportunity, would not hesitate to abuse Mr Darcy or myself," she complained, and it was only Mrs Gardiner's unfailing good humour that saved her from sinking into a mood of depression.

The situation would not improve when Hobbs, returning later that week, reported that an unpaid gambling debt had been the cause of the fracas that left Wickham incapacitated.

When Jane joined them, Elizabeth asked for tea to be served. Mrs Gardiner, who was their closest confidante, was informed that Emma was unlikely to be present at the weekend's celebrations. When she expressed her disappointment, Jane quite deliberately avoided the more harrowing details of her daughter's situation, referring only to the inability of her busy husband to accompany them.
Quite unsuspicious, Mrs Gardiner was disinclined to be critical of Mr Wilson. "It is quite understandable, dear Jane, that an ambitious young Parliamentarian may not consider an eleven-year-old's birthday party an essential part of his social life," she said. "However, it is such a pity the problem was not known to us earlier; Mr Gardiner was in London until Thursday morning, and he could easily have accommodated Emma and the two girls in his carriage, since he was travelling alone. It would have been quite simple for them to have stayed overnight with us and travelled to Pemberley today."
She genuinely regretted the missed opportunity, but Elizabeth, meeting Jane's eyes, realised that it would have been of no use. David Wilson would not have permitted Emma and the children to make the journey to Pemberley without him.
Even as Mrs Gardiner spoke, a hard, cold knot of fear had begun to establish itself in Elizabeth's mind. It was the kind of fear that she had felt once before--when the news of Lydia's elopement had reached her at Lambton, a combination of dreadful news and the realisation of one's total helplessness to influence the consequences.
If only Darcy could be told! She was sure he would know what to do, but Jane would not hear of it. Emma, she said, would never forgive her if her

father discovered the truth. Poor, dear Emma and poor Jane! How deep must their suffering be? The sheer hopelessness of the situation horrified Elizabeth, who could see no way out for her niece, short of the destruction of her marriage.

The task of keeping the bad news from their aunt was made somewhat easier by the fact that Mrs Gardiner had some good news to impart. Her youngest son, Robert--who had gone out to the eastern colonies some years ago to work for one of the British mercantile firms--was returning to England. He was considering an offer of a position at the firm's head office in Liverpool.

Mrs Gardiner had brought with her his recent letters, which she read to her nieces with much satisfaction. Robert wrote of his success at two professional examinations as well as his plans to return to England in the Spring. Though it was more than six months away, Mrs Gardiner could not hide her excitement. Both Jane and Elizabeth were delighted for her, knowing she had felt her son's absence keenly.

Hardly had they finished congratulating their aunt on her excellent news, than Elizabeth's maid, Susan, ran upstairs to warn of another arrival. Being new to Pemberley, Susan had never seen one of the splendid vehicles from Rosings before.

"Oh ma'am, there is a great big fancy carriage, with four beautiful horses, coming up the drive," she cried, and in one voice the ladies responded, "That has to be the carriage from Rosings bringing Charlotte and Catherine," as they went across to the windows to look out at the approaching grand equipage.

Elizabeth and Jane went down to welcome them. They remarked not only on how well they both looked, but how much like Charlotte her daughter Catherine had grown. She had also acquired an enviable level of self-possession during her years at Rosings. Congratulations were in order, and these were received by Catherine with a remarkable degree of dignified restraint.

Jane and Lizzie, who could still recall with some amusement how they had reacted with almost unbearable delight on similar occasions in their own lives, were quite amazed at Catherine's lack of excitement. Remarking upon this to Cassandra, Elizabeth wondered aloud, "Could it perhaps have something to do with the fact that Mr Harrison is a clergyman?"

When Cassy answered, "It has probably more to do with the fact that Mr Harrison is a rather unexciting clergyman, Mama," her mother could scarcely restrain her laughter, especially when Cassy pointed out that their cousin Emily was certainly not similarly encumbered.

"No indeed," Elizabeth said. "James Courtney is popular with his parishioners and has never been considered boring." She then begged Cassandra to "make Catherine feel at home."

Cassy smiled. "Really, Mama, coming from Rosings to Pemberley should hardly present a problem to Catherine. We are far less preoccupied with the niceties of social etiquette than is Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she declared, as she went away to attend to her children.

The gentlemen, having returned from Kympton, had changed and were ready to go downstairs when a great commotion in the hall heralded the arrival of Colonel Fitzwilliam, Caroline, and their children. Isabella, the eldest, was a gentle, demure young lady with a fair share of beauty, but so unassuming that she was often overlooked. Her brother, David, was away at boarding school, but Amy and James, the youngest Fitzwilliams, were energetic children accustomed to treating Pemberley as a second home. They raced up and down the wide staircases and long corridors, quite oblivious to the treasures that surrounded them.

When Elizabeth and Darcy came down to welcome them, Caroline apologised for her children, but she was assured that they did no harm. Amy and James stopped in the middle of their play to affectionately embrace and greet their aunt and uncle. They were lively but delightful children, and neither Darcy nor Elizabeth minded their presence, although the maids, carrying tea trays laden with fine china, had been seen to flinch as they flew past on the stairs.

Colonel Fitzwilliam greeted Darcy, eager to discuss the political news, which his father-in-law, Mr Gardiner, had brought on his return from London.

Still gloating over the demise of the Conservatives, who had managed only one elected term under Peel, Fitzwilliam was triumphant that the popular Palmerston was back in power and in charge of the Foreign Office. He had endeared himself to the liberal middle classes with defiant statements of support for the Italian cause and condemnation of despotism in

Europe. Fitzwilliam hoped also for great things from him at home. "There is no doubt that Palmerston will be Prime Minister one day, Darcy. We can at least expect some progressive legislation soon."

Darcy was less confident. He reminded Fitzwilliam that Palmerston was once a Tory and "more of a Whig aristocrat than your modern democrat," he said, but Fitzwilliam was not to be denied.

The arrival of Anthony Tate and his wife Rebecca, both of whom took an active interest in politics, released Darcy to attend to his guests and provided Fitzwilliam with an even larger audience for his views. Having once been in Parliament, he could claim to have an opinion on all matters of interest. Indeed, so sincere and profound was his conviction on causes such as the ten-hour day or compulsory education for children, one could be forgiven for asking why he had ever retired from Parliament. But that was another story.

On this occasion, with Richard Gardiner and Jonathan Bingley as well as the Tates--owners of
The Review
and
The Tribune
--agreeing with him, Fitzwilliam was in full flight when the band in the marquee struck up a lively tune and demanded the attention of all present.

Julian, whose birthday had occasioned the celebration, was suddenly shy and had to be persuaded by Cassandra, his sister, to step forward and accept the congratulations of his guests.

His parents, whose lives had been devastated by the death of their elder son William, had promised themselves when Julian was born that they would not be excessively protective or possessive of him. They had endeavoured to give their son as much freedom as possible.

This liberality was probably responsible for the fact that Julian had a disposition as open and amiable as one could hope for in a young boy; his pleasing manners made him a general favourite. More mature than one would expect at his age, he seemed to take a greater interest in the estate and the people who lived and worked there than William had done, which was a matter of great satisfaction to his father. Cassandra, who had learnt a great deal from her father and his steward while Julian was still a baby, had made a point of teaching him all she knew. That he had no brothers and sisters at home had served to enhance his relationship with his parents, whose company and advice he sought often. They, in turn, gave him all the care and love he needed.

Though the years that had passed since William's death had not assuaged the pain Elizabeth felt, Julian had brought much lightness and pleasure into their lives, transforming the sombre atmosphere at Pemberley. Unlike William, Julian was eager to go to college--and in preparation, plans were afoot for him to be enrolled next year at a public school near Oxford, recommended by Dr Grantley.

With a perfect Autumn evening, a gathering of their favourite people, and all arrangements flowing smoothly, Elizabeth relaxed, confident that this evening at Pemberley would be one to remember with pleasure.

Just one shadow remained--the happiness of her sister Jane had been so deeply compromised by the situation of her daughter, Emma, that it preyed upon her mind. If only, thought Elizabeth, if only things could have been different.

While Julian's birthday party was in progress, with all the delights that children look forward to on such occasions--ample food, games and novelties, and, because it was also Guy Fawkes Night, a promise of fireworks to follow--the adults, who were staying to dinner, watched on indulgently or sat in groups on the lawn. They were all waiting for that magic moment when it would be dark enough to start the fireworks and light the Guy who sat waiting atop a bonfire in the lower meadow.