Mr. Darcy's Daughter (12 page)

Elizabeth
smiled and went to sit beside him on the sofa. "I did not think you would,
my dear; it is a sort of poetic justice, is it not?" she asked, taking his
hand in hers.

"It
certainly is and I am glad of it," he said and then, turning to her,
asked,

"Were
you really testing me, Lizzie?" Realising from her expression that she was
only playing a game, his reproof came swiftly, "I thought you knew me
better than to ask such a question."

She
laughed and reassured him that indeed she did. Elizabeth remembered how very
far her husband had come over the years of their marriage from the haughty,
reserved man she had met at the dance in the assembly hall at Meryton.
That
Mr. Darcy, who had found it intolerable
to dance with a lady below his station in life, unless she were exceptionally
beautiful, would scarcely have acknowledged the existence of a stable boy, much
less approve of a man whose grandfather had been one. She could not tell if her
husband shared her memories; she thought not, for they had long put all those
painful days behind them.

But
Elizabeth was proud of the man he had become and, by asking the question as she
had done, she had sought only to reiterate all those qualities she loved and
admired in him. So sound was their understanding of one another, so close their
intimacy, that it did not take long for her to convince him that she had never
seriously believed him capable of such prejudice, nor for her to be forgiven
for having wounded his feelings with her provocative question.

Meanwhile,
Cassy, having told Richard the story of Mr. Carr and the portrait of his
grandfather, wondered how her husband would respond to the news. In fact, he
responded hardly at all, merely acknowledging that Mr. Carr must have been very
gratified and, indeed, so must she and the girls, for now the mystery of his
resemblance to the portrait had been resolved.

Cassy
put his lack of interest down to weariness; it had been a tiring day.

She
could not, however, help contemplating the possibility that her husband's
response might be different, were Mr. Carr to become, at some future date, a
suitor for their daughter's hand.

But,
she told herself sensibly, he was not and it did not signify.

*

As
the Summer waned into Autumn, the days were crowded with parties, village
fairs, and well dressings, with walks and picnics in the dales.

There
was some talk of business failures and recession, but there was prosperity,
too. The countryside seemed salubrious and bountiful, especially to Mr. Carr,
who had stayed on in Derbyshire, moving to live at Rushmore Farm following the
departure for New South Wales of Will Camden and his family.

Michael
Carr was eager to become acquainted with his staff, his tenants, and the people
of the neighbourhood in which he proposed to make his new home. To this end, he
assiduously attended the county shows and meetings of the council and, though a
Roman Catholic, even made an appearance at the Kympton Church Harvest
Thanksgiving Service. The Rector, Reverend Courtney, welcomed him and the
congregation showed their pleasure when many stopped to greet him afterwards.

At
the local inn, he soon made a friend of the landlord and learned that a couple
of men from Cromford were still in the area, looking at properties, and had
been especially disappointed at losing the Rushmore stud to him. "You'd be
wise to watch out for them, sir," the innkeeper had warned. "They're
a rough lot and seem like sore losers, too."

Mr.
Carr was so pleased with life at the moment, it was unlikely that such a mild
caution would worry him. He made no mention of it to anyone. He had seen the
two men around the district, but took little notice of their presence.

In
the Autumn, too, Darcy Gardiner went up to London to hear Mr. Colin Elliott,
who was engaged to their cousin Anne-Marie Bingley, make his final speech as a
member of the Tory Party. It was to be a momentous occasion and Darcy was
determined to be there. With him went young Lizzie, who, after spending a week
in London with her brother, was to proceed to Cambridge to make good the
promise made by her mother to her aunt and uncle.

Brother
and sister had both promised faithfully to write to their mother, but Cassy
knew better than to count on her son for good letters. When he did write, they
were always short, scrappy little pieces, in which he merely gave her bits of
London news, which she already knew.

This
time, however, he reported faithfully on Mr. Elliott's speech and the party
given by Mr. and Mrs. James Wilson to celebrate the occasion of James Wilson's
twentieth year in the Parliament. Although it was not a very satisfactory
account, being brief and somewhat disjointed, it was better than nothing, Cassy
thought with a sigh, as she opened up the second letter that had arrived that
day.

This
was from Lizzie and was, as usual, well written and full of news, all that a
good letter should be. Cassy sat down to enjoy it.

Lizzie
wrote:

Dearest
Mama and Papa,

It
is hard to believe that it is almost three weeks since I left you to come to
London and a fortnight since my last letter. I had hoped to write again before
leaving London, but Darcy was always wanting to go somewhere and, when I was at
home, someone would call to see him and want to leave a message for him. He
seems to be very popular, and there was very little time to spare for myself
and even less time to write.

While
we were in London, we were both asked to a party at our Uncle Wilson's place in
Grosvenor Street to celebrate his twentieth year in the Commons. My brother had
already been to the Parliament that afternoon.

It
was a grand affair with an entire chamber ensemble playing all evening and
dozens of very distinguished and important people present.

Anne-Marie
was there with her husband-to-be Mr. Elliott, who is very handsome indeed,
though quiet and serious looking. Anna Bingley assured us he was not at all
dull, though, and Darcy said his speech to the Commons was excellent. Everyone
there seemed to agree. When he came into the room with Anne-Marie on his arm,
there was applause. I thought it was to congratulate the engaged couple, who
looked very handsome together, but Darcy said, "Don't be so silly, Lizzie,
it's because Mr Elliott has just resigned from the Tory Party." It seems
he is to support Mr. Gladstone in the Parliament. Is that good? My Uncle Wilson
seemed to think it was. He appeared very elated about it and congratulated Mr.
Elliott on his decision. Anne-Marie looked very beautiful, as always.

We
left for Cambridge at the end of the week. What a change it is from London!
Life here is very quiet and sober, quieter still in the home of my Uncle Julian
Darcy. He, when he is at home, spends almost all his time in his study, except
when he joins us at meals or goes upstairs to bed at night.

Cassandra
sighed, "Poor Julian, still working too hard..." and read on.

Aunt
Josie is quiet, too, but in a different way. She writes and reads and writes
some more and reads again. Some afternoons she has visitors, like the Misses
Wallace-Groom. Dora and Hetty visit often (they must be Dorothy and Henrietta,
I suppose, but no one calls them that) and they read poetry and talk about it
together for hours. A gentleman named Barrett comes, too, and reads with them.
Occasionally, they read for him and he listens and comments upon their poems,
and they are all very pleased with themselves.

Poor
little Anthony finds all this very boring and I am usually sent to walk with
him in the park or play in the nursery, which I would much rather do, for I
find their poetry very dull indeed.

When
we take tea together, I help Susan bring in the tea and cakes, and the Misses
Wallace-Groom tell me all about their adventures during the last London Season.
Aunt Josie is not very interested, but she does like them because they like her
poetry. I heard her tell Mr. Barrett one day, while we were waiting for them to
arrive, that they are both 'very discerning young women.' I had to look it up
and found it means '
discriminating or refined in taste'
and I have to
say I could see no sign of it in either of them.

Their
dress is very modish, but they care nothing for literature or music and neither
can play a single instrument or sing.

What
is more, I fear they are not altogether sincere, because when Aunt Josie is
busy reading her poetry, I have noticed Miss Hetty Wallace-Groom trying to
flirt with Mr. Barrett. (Hetty is pretty and plump and laughs a lot, while Dora
is thin and serious.)

Despite
all this, I am sure, Mama, that you will be pleased to hear that Aunt Josie is
more active and cheerful and, though she does not speak very much of matters
other than her poetry and little Anthony, she does at least come downstairs
every day and takes her evening meal with the rest of us.

According
to her maid, Susan, she is much improved since last Spring.

Susan
is, I think, her only real friend and confidante. She is so very loyal, Mama, I
think she would do anything for Aunt Josie.

The
letter concluded affectionately, as always, with love to all her family and was
followed by a postscript...

Tomorrow, we are to go out to a reading of a play by a
friend of Mr. Barrett, Andrew Jones. While I am not really looking forward to it,
Aunt
Josie is very excited indeed. Mr. Jones is the son of a
publisher and very important, she says. I don't know him at all.

Susan
is here to take this to the post, so I must close, with more love... etc.

Cassandra
read the letter through twice before putting it away.

It
was just like all Lizzie's letters, vivid, with plenty of detail and opinions.

Cassy
could visualise clearly the grand party at the Wilsons' town house in Grosvenor
Street and the contrast with the quiet little house in Cambridge where her
brother lived. She could picture the scene, with Josie reading poetry in the
parlour, and wondered what the Misses Wallace-Groom were really like.

Clearly
Lizzie did not like them.

Josie
was an intelligent young woman; Cassy could not understand her friendship with
such girls as Lizzie had described. They seemed shallow, with small,
uncultivated minds. Why, she wondered, would they court Josie's friendship? As
for Mr. Barrett, she recalled the maid Susan's tale of his promise to publish
Josie's book. Could that be the reason behind her cheerfulness? Cassy wondered.
She hoped in her heart, for her brother's sake, that this was the case.

A
week later, a note from Anna Bingley, her cousin Jonathan's wife, brought more
hope. An invitation had arrived for Anne-Marie's wedding in December to Mr.
Colin Elliott. In a note enclosed with it, Anna had written to say that Julian
and Josie had been invited, too, and had accepted.

Anna
wrote:

They are to arrive the day before the wedding day and stay
with us at Netherfield Park for a few days. We are all looking forward to
seeing them again.

Cassy
was so pleased, she could not wait for her husband to return, so keen was she
to take the good news to her parents. If Julian and Josie had accepted the
invitation to the wedding, it must mean that Josie had recovered her health and
her spirits. Taken together with Lizzie's letter, this was an excellent sign
and Cassy knew her mother would be especially happy to hear it. She sent for
the small carriage and drove over to Pemberley.

Elizabeth
was overjoyed. Mother and daughter celebrated their good news together,
speculating about the possibility that Josie was feeling much better because
her work was at least being appreciated by her friends. They knew very little
about the Misses Wallace-Groom, but of Mr. Barrett they had heard more.

"And,
who knows, my dear, she may even have an offer from a publisher.

Did
you not say this Mr. Barrett was in the book trade?"

"Indeed,
Mama, we had that from Josie herself and now Lizzie says his friend Mr. Jones
is a publisher. I do hope you are right. Julian will be delighted,"

said
Cassy, unwilling to spoil the moment with any niggling doubts about the
credibility of their scheme. It was sufficient for her that Julian and Josie
were to be at Anne-Marie's wedding.

They
had both been looking out for Mr. Darcy, who had walked down to the stables to
take a look at a colt he had purchased for his grandson.

"Your
father is very enthusiastic about this colt; he thinks he will do well for
young James in a year or two," said Elizabeth.

Cassy
went over to the window where her mother sat and looking out, said,

"There
he is, Mama, over by the lake; he's coming this way."

She
was eager to give her father the good news, too.

"There's
a man with him. Who is it, Cassy? I have not got my glasses with me, so I
cannot make him out," said her mother.

"Why,
I believe it is Mr. Carr and he seems to have arrived in Richard's curricle. I
wonder what brings him here..." she mused, then recalling suddenly that
her husband Richard had taken the curricle that morning, Cassy exclaimed,