Mr. Darcy's Daughter (22 page)

"Which
means Susan knew it all?" Cassy was outraged.

"Yes
and, as I have told you, she will do anything for Aunt Josie, so devoted is she
to her. But, even Susan does not entirely approve of Mr. Barrett. She doesn't
trust him, nor Mr. Jones, and I do not blame her," said Lizzie.

Another,
even more dreadful possibility had occurred to Cassy. "Lizzie, is it
possible Josie may be duped by both these men?" she asked.

Lizzie
could not be sure; she did not know them well enough, she said, to make such a
judgment. It was possible that Barrett was fond of Josie and would help her
publish her book, but she could not be sure. Of Andrew Jones she knew little,
she said, and what she knew she did not like. It was clear to her mother that
Lizzie had little respect for either man.

Cassy
felt her heart sink, as she contemplated the situation. There was no hope or
comfort to be found anywhere. Each new question that was answered appeared to
bring even more uncertainty. There was only one absolute certainty: her parents
would have to be told the truth; there could be no question of dissembling, for
surely the news would soon be known in London.

"Oh,
Lizzie, this is such a wretched situation; the shock will kill poor Mama,"
she said, her face betraying the extent of her anxiety.

"As
for Papa, I do not know how he will bear it. He has always spoken up for Josie;
even when Mama and Aunt Jane were very critical of her for not taking an
interest in Pemberley, Papa defended her, pointing out that she was very young
and ambitious and entitled to be so."

Lizzie
knew exactly what her mother meant. She had heard her grandfather praise
Josie's work and she, too, wondered how her grandparents, who had already lost
one son, would cope with the disastrous fate of the other. For surely, what was
a terrible personal loss for Julian Darcy must also be a catastrophe for
Pemberley, when the man who was to be its next master was suddenly deserted by
his wife.

Her
mother insisted upon hearing all the particulars, asking several questions, not
all of which Lizzie could answer.

"You
must tell me everything, Lizzie. I need to know it all if I am to answer the
questions that will surely come from Mama, not to mention Rebecca Tate.

Now,
she
must have had a
dreadful shock. I wonder, could she have had any apprehension of Josie's
intentions?"

Lizzie
was of the belief that neither Mrs. Tate nor her husband would have had any
inkling of what Josie intended doing.

"They
could not have had any misgivings, because I know that Mr. Tate is acquainted
with Mr. Jones's firm; they do business together and indeed Andrew Jones has
been invited to stay at the Tates' place in London on occasions. I have heard
them speak of it. I have no doubt he would have introduced Mr. Barrett to the
family; they are very close," said Lizzie.

"Is
Barrett well regarded?" asked Cassy, curious to discover the background of
this stranger who had caused such sudden turmoil in their family.

Lizzie
gave a wry smile. "I hardly know how to answer that, Mama. If you believe
Hetty Wallace-Groom, he is a paragon among men, but Mrs. Hunt, the nurse, had a
very different opinion. She had worked for a family in London with whom he was
once intimate. She could tell stories of his ability to charm and deceive and
quite a few tales of reckless conduct, leading to a great falling-out between
them. Indeed, she told Susan of it, in an attempt to alert her mistress, but
all she got for her trouble was instant dismissal for gossiping," she
explained.

"Oh
dear," said Cassy,"and what of Mr. Jones: is he a better man than his
friend?"

"I
rather doubt it, Mama, if you mean is he a gentleman? I suppose in the society
sense of the word, yes, he is; but he is not to be trusted. In his appearance,
he is attractive in a languid style, as one might expect a poet or musician to
look, but to my mind, he is far worse than Barrett, for he has an appearance of
innocence, which is far from the reality. I would not credit a word he
says."

Cassandra
was astonished at how self-composed her daughter was, in the midst of this
confusion; she, who a year ago had seemed too young to go away to stay with her
uncle and aunt in Cambridge, had apparently learned to make shrewd judgments
about the people she had met there. Cassy doubted that she would have been so
capable or indeed so sanguine herself at that age.

"Poor
Julian," she said, "to have his wife embroiled in such dubious
company; how it must hurt him," and Lizzie agreed.

"It
was sad to see how he accepted, without protest, everything that was happening
in his own house. I think he loved her and was afraid to cross her in any way,
for fear of losing her," she said.

"And
then he lost her anyway," said her mother, and the sadness in her voice
was immeasurable.

It
was agreed between them that they would speak of it to no one at the moment,
especially not before the servants, for then it was bound to become common
currency in the village and would soon be conveyed to Pemberley. "I know
that concealment is not possible for long, but we must try, at least until
Julian and my parents have met and found a way to comprehend and deal with it
together," said Cassy, determined that the village gossips would not get
any satisfaction from her.

At
dinner, there were only the four of them, for Edward was dining in Derby. No
one mentioned Josie at table and, afterwards, Julian thanked them all, asked to
be excused, and went upstairs to bed. On the morrow, after he had rested,
Cassandra would take her brother to Pemberley to break the unhappy news to
their parents.

Her
own account of their meeting, given in a letter to Jonathan and Anna Bingley,
who remained her close confidantes, made no secret of her feelings.

She
placed most of the blame at the feet of her sister-in-law.

Dearest
Jonathan and Anna,

It
is almost impossible for me to write of this terrible, terrible thing that has
happened, without weeping. Yet I know I must hold back my tears and suppress my
outrage, for the pain this has inflicted upon my dear parents is well nigh
unbearable and I have no wish to add one single grain to their burden.

Having
given some of the salient facts, without revealing all of the strange details
of Josie's behaviour, she continued...

Please,
dear Anna and Jonathan, spare a thought in your prayers for my Mama, who after
the death of our dear William, has spent years hoping that Julian will grow up
to take Papa's place one day, only to have this happen.

She
has lived for Papa and her family; can you not understand how she must feel? As
for Papa, who has always defended Josie, even when Mama and I have been rather
impatient of her lack of interest in Pemberley, he must now feel betrayed.

I
cannot describe how distraught they were, Mama especially, when Julian told
them she had gone with this Mr. Barrett, whoever he may be, to London and
showed them the cold little note she had left.

She
writes of her desire for freedom to pursue her work; never have I seen my dear
father look so shocked. He hardly said a word for fully five
minutes, as
he stood with her note in his hand, gazing out of the window.

When
he did speak, he asked Julian if he had ever read his wife's work or talked to
her about it. When Julian confessed that he had often been too busy, Papa
simply shook his head and said very quietly, "Perhaps, if you had tried,
Julian, it may have helped. Now, I suppose it is too late and we may never
know."

I
can see that he does not lay the blame at her door alone. Mama does, though;
she said it was a wicked thing to abandon your child and husband and run off to
another man, only because you want him to publish your books. It was a fool's
errand, she said.

Dearest
Anna, I may sound harsh, but I have to agree with Mama on this matter. Josie
has said, in her note to my brother, that she does not love Mr Barrett, and my
Lizzie, who spent most of Spring with them, confirms that she saw no sign of
affection either. Now, no matter how much it mean tto me, I could not have left
my husband and children for such an ambition.

Do
you not agree that such an action betrays our own worth as well a sthose we
love? Furthermore, even from a purely practical point of view, what guarantee
of success or happiness is there in such an enterprise?

I
feel poor Josie will be forever haunted by her actions, and whatever fame or
satisfaction she gains will also be tainted by them.

My
poor brother, meanwhile, must return to his college, where it is likely
everyone will by now be aware of his wretched predicament, and complete his
work before he leaves for France. Whether he will return to work in Cambridge,
I cannot say.

Anthony,
meanwhile, will remain with us and probably study with James's tutor next year.
The poor child seems quite baffled by what has happened.

My
dear Jonathan, I know how much affection Mama and Papa have for you and I would
plead, if it were at all possible, that you visit them when you can find the
time. It would greatly improve their spirits.

Richard
and I also look forward to seeing you and Anna again, when you can drag
yourselves away from the peaceful haven that is Netherfield.

Forgive
me if I sound as if our lives have been one long slough of despond. This is not
true for we have had very many happy years, until this one!

Were
it not for Richard and my dear children, I should have been miserable indeed.
My Lizzie has been a comfort and a most agreeable companion. A year ago she was
a child; today she is a wise young woman, for whose understanding and company I
am most grateful.

The
letter ended with the fondest of salutations.

Jonathan
Bingley sighed. "It seems, my love, I was wrong in thinking that Cassy and
Richard were blessed with complete happiness. Like a sunlit garden, there
appeared to be nothing that could darken their lives; sadly, it would seem that
is no longer true," he said as he handed Cassy's letter to his wife.

*

Following
the return of Julian Darcy to Cambridge, Cassandra, aware of the need to assist
her father, became even more deeply involved in the affairs of Pemberley, while
Lizzie undertook the organisation of young Anthony's life.

The
little boy, strangely, did not seem to miss either of his parents very much and
though sometimes, in his sleep or at play, he would call out for one of them,
Lizzie discovered that if the call were swiftly and affectionately answered by
her or her mother, he appeared to be satisfied. Plainly, the child had no deep
bond with either parent.

He
was a pleasing, affectionate little fellow and was no trouble to teach, so
eager was he to learn and keep up with his cousin James, while Lizzie, having
developed a special relationship with him in London, enjoyed his confidence.

Until
arrangements could be made in the New Year to engage a tutor for both boys,
Lizzie had taken over the task of teaching them. Often, when the weather was
fine, she would take them out for a nature walk, up the road, through the
village, and into the woods or meadows, an experience they all thor-oughly
enjoyed.

It
was on one of these days that Lizzie saw a familiar figure come out of the
tobacconist's shop in the main street. The man, on seeing them, stopped and
tipped his hat. In that instant, she recognised him: it was Mr. Andrew Jones.

The
two boys had stopped to look in the window of a shop that sold toy soldiers
and, though she would have liked to have got them away sooner, Lizzie could not
persuade them to leave. Seeing her waiting for the children, Mr. Jones crossed
the street and quite deliberately walked towards them. Lizzie was both annoyed
and confused. She had no desire to speak with him; indeed, in the
circumstances, a friend of Mr. Barrett was the very last person she wanted to
meet. She had by now taken both her charges by the hand, so that when he came
up to her, all she could do to acknowledge his greeting was to nod and say good
day, while he stood before her, smiling broadly.

After
this most perfunctory exchange, she urged the boys to hurry lest they be late
for tea. Andrew Jones tried to keep up with them, but Lizzie, who knew the
village well, had the advantage over him and, claiming they had someone to see
in the village, she plunged first down one narrow street and then another,
until they came upon the lane that ran all the way down to the river and across
the footbridge.

Despite
the unsuitability of her shoes for tramping across fields, she pressed on,
encouraged by the obvious pleasure of the boys who were enjoying this unusual
adventure, jumping puddles and scrambling over stiles, until they were within
sight of home. There, she stopped to catch her breath and clean the mud off her
shoes. Her face was flushed with the exercise and she was cross at herself for
being so upset at meeting Mr. Jones.

Even
as she went upstairs to her room, having surrendered her two muddy pupils to
the housekeeper for bathing and changing, Lizzie wondered what could have
brought Jones into the district. Surely, she thought, he must know that the
families of both Julian and Josie lived in the area and, as a friend of
Barrett's, he would not be welcome among them. She marvelled at his arrogance
in believing that she would acknowledge him and be seen walking with him in the
village. It was a preposterous notion. Lizzie could still feel her anger rising
as she thought about it and wished with all her heart that she had had the
presence of mind and the wit to say something that would have put him in his
place.