The Pemberley Chronicles (47 page)

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That Winter brought another, not entirely unexpected sorrow, when Mr Bennet, who had never quite recovered from the shocking death of his beloved grandson, seemed suddenly to lose interest in holding on to life and, in his sleep, let it slip gently away. It was a hard blow for all of them, especially Jane and Elizabeth, but Darcy, who had grown to respect his father-in-law, whose dry wit was always at the ready to take down the presumptuous and stupid in society, regretted his untimely passing more than anyone knew. Mr Bennet's appreciation of the library and grounds at Pemberley had led him to spend quite a few Summers there, and a warm, easy relationship had developed between them.

Only Elizabeth, who had found him browsing in the library, idly looking over the piles of familiar books her father used to read, picking up titles and finding short scribbled notes in his hand among their pages, knew how much Darcy would miss her father.

Sir William Lucas, too, was frequently unwell, and Charlotte was afraid he may not live to see her Rebecca married. He did but did not survive long afterwards, succumbing to a respiratory complaint from which he had suffered for many years.

The deaths of these two neighbours--old friends, brought home to everyone a quite remarkable irony, upon which Elizabeth made a wry comment. "Do you realise, Jane, that despite our mother's dire predictions about Mr Collins and Charlotte's throwing her out of her home, it will now be their daughter, young Amelia-Jane, who will one day be the Mistress of Longbourn, as a consequence of her marriage to your Jonathan, who is Papa's heir!" Jane confessed that she had thought of it, and the sisters laughed together, remembering their mother's outrage at the prospect of Charlotte Collins in her place at Longbourn. Things had certainly come full circle. Both Bingley and Darcy, who had a high regard for Charlotte and her children, whom she had raised with courage and principle, ventured to suggest that it was a fortuitous turn of events.

"I think Mrs Collins deserves some good fortune," said Bingley. Darcy agreed it was an excellent outcome, "It seems like poetic justice to me," he said, "especially since it was the foolish Mr Collins who was denied his entailed inheritance."

Elizabeth, despite her affection for Charlotte, could not resist remarking that, "with two of her daughters very satisfactorily married or about to be, and her eldest enjoying the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Charlotte's cup must be close to being full, if not quite running over!" Everyone laughed, and Jane had to chide her sister for her sardonic comment, but she enjoyed it all the same. It was good to hear the laughter in Lizzie's voice again.

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In the Spring of 1836, Mr Darcy, sensitive to Elizabeth's sadness following her father's death, embarked upon a project to engage her heart, while taking her away from Pemberley for a while. He was offered by chance, and decided upon an impulse, to take out a year's lease on a property on the Albury Downs, not far from Guildford, where he and Mr Gardiner had important business contacts.

Happily situated, amidst rich farmland and wooded valleys, Woodlands included a house, not much larger than Longbourn but a good deal more comfortable, being a low, sheltered building, set well back in ample gardens. The meadows below the house sloped away towards a winding river, which cut its way through the chalk hills and downs. As far as the eye could see, the prospect was pleasing and peaceful. From the Albury Downs, superb views stretched across the county--a landscape of woodlands boasting ancient yew trees, green fields, apple orchards, and meadows filled with wild flowers and butterflies.

It was, Elizabeth wrote to her sister Jane:
...a source of soothing balm for the weary heart; it is just exactly what I needed, at this dreadful time.

She made no attempt to deny the seductive quality of this beautiful place, nor its appeal to her grieving soul. Reasoning that increasing business commitments in the area and his desire to be of greater use to Mr Gardiner rendered it convenient, Darcy took the opportunity to spend what became an idyllic few months with Elizabeth, in the loveliest part of southern England.

At Pemberley, he had once found her weeping over the sketchbook that William had filled with memories of the Lakes, while on another occasion, after dinner, she had sat at the instrument to play one of his favourite compositions but, unable to control her tears, had fled the room. Darcy had hoped a change of scene would help. After they had been at the farm for some weeks, with only a few of their personal staff from Pemberley, Darcy, seeing how happy and relaxed Elizabeth seemed to be at Woodlands, asked whether she would like him to purchase the property for her. When she seemed bewildered by the suggestion, he explained, "If I thought, my dearest, that it would increase your happiness by some small quantum, if it would mean that I could see you heal the wounds you carry a day sooner, I would gladly sell the house in London and invest the money here, to help us get away occasionally, from the memories that crowd around us at Pemberley," he said earnestly. Elizabeth was deeply touched both by his gesture of concern and the love from which it clearly flowed. During the terrible days and weeks after William's death, she had been grateful indeed for his strength and support, but much more did she welcome the warmth of his love. But, grateful though she was for his recognition of the pain she had suffered, Elizabeth did not seek to run away from Pemberley.

She acknowledged with tenderness his concern and determination to help her but made her own wishes quite clear. "I have no desire, my love, to flee from the memories that surround us at Pemberley. It is our home, it was William's home, and he loved it. I see him everywhere--in the park, by the river, where he used to ride, and all over the house. I hear the music he used to play running through my head all the time. One Sunday morning, I came in from the garden and heard the Mozart sonata he was practising on the day of the Pemberley Ball, echoing through the house, the same piece he promised to play for us. I raced up to the music room, but of course, it was only in my head, or perhaps it was in my heart; whichever it was, it will be always with me. I know I shall have to learn to carry my memories of William wherever I go, but I will not turn my back on Pemberley. It is our home, and to it we must return."

Darcy explained that he had hoped only to provide her with an alternative place to heal the terrible wounds they had both suffered. She smiled and assured him she had already begun to heal with his help and that of Jane, Emily, Jenny, and all their dear friends. "And do not think, dearest, that in the midst of my sorrow, I have been unaware of yours, nor that I have been so insensitive as to imagine that only I suffer the days and nights that wring out one's heart. I also know how much Pemberley means to you. I know how you have tried to build a community there. I want to share that, too. Much as I have enjoyed these weeks of peaceful idleness in this lovely place, and I thank you with all my heart for bringing me here, it has been a wonderful respite, I do want to go home." Darcy responded with warmth and gratitude, holding her close.

Elizabeth then showed him the letter she had written to Jane, which concluded:

It is, without question, the prettiest, sweetest part of southern England, and I should love to have us all spend a gentle Summer here, for I am sure you will like it exceedingly well, and so will Bingley. I shall speak to Darcy and if the owners will consent to let it again next year, we shall all be here together. Perhaps, after your Jonathan and Amelia-Jane are married, it may be time for us to get away from the bustle and crowds and spend the rest of the season here, for, dear Jane, it is a veritable heaven on earth.

He smiled and said, "What a good idea, my dear; I shall make some enquiries directly."

Convinced she was right, they returned to Pemberley, and in the late Autumn, their son was born. They called him Julian Paul, and Emily was his proud godmother. The delight of both parents at the birth of their child was shared by almost everyone in the district. All who knew the family had keenly felt their loss and had hoped to see them regain some of the joy that had departed with William on that dreadful night. Pemberley, as one of the great estates of the county, had always been the centre of the district's prosperity. When the estate and its family flourished, so did the men, women, and children of the surrounding farms, parishes, and towns. At forty, Elizabeth was grateful for this child; her young cousin Caroline, who had been delivered of a daughter in Summer, still longed for a boy to assuage the pain of losing Edward. Elizabeth knew that nothing, not even this dear little boy, could do that for her. The memory of William burned too brightly. Unlike William, Julian was dark like his father but with his mother's bright smile and pleasant nature. His birth had brought them joy this Christmas. For the first time since William's death, there was at least a genuine reason to celebrate.

Mrs Gardiner, who came with Jane to visit Elizabeth and her son, brought the news that James Courtney, the Oxford scholar, who had worked at the Pemberley library some years ago, was back, as the new curate of Kympton. Having completed his theological studies and taken Holy Orders, he had applied to Mr Darcy for the living with the recommendation of Dr Grantley, and it had been granted. Elizabeth knew of his appointment but was unaware that he had arrived already.

"Everyone is delighted to have him back. He was a most active and hard working young man, when he was only a scholar. He worked so hard at the school that Caroline thought he ought to return as a teacher," said Mrs Gardiner, adding that Emily had liked him very much indeed. Jane offered the information that Mrs Gardiner had already decided that the Reverend James Courtney must be invited to Christmas dinner at Oakleigh Manor, when he could meet the rest of the family. Sensing, rather than hearing a plan developing, Elizabeth added a note of caution, "Dearest Aunt, do have a care. I know how much you long for Emily to be happy, but she felt the loss of Paul very deeply and may not be ready to entertain the thought of any one else, just yet. We all want her happiness but, believe me, there is little to be done when Death puts a nagging ache into every crevice of your heart and mind. There is no room for anything else. That has been my experience; I do not doubt that it will be no different for Emily. That she has such compassion for others, is not an indication of the diminution of her pain, but of the greatness of her heart." Mrs Gardiner, moved by her niece's heartfelt advice, agreed that she would do nothing to push her daughter; she was a wise and sensitive woman. "But I do hope, Lizzie, for her sake that something will come of it," she said, "I cannot bear to see the sadness in her eyes. She deserves some happiness."

Jane agreed, "Emily, above all others, deserves a share of happiness. She has been there for every one of us, whenever we needed help or comfort. All the children love her, and yet, she has none of her own. It is not fair, Lizzie." Elizabeth could not hide her feelings. "The world, dear Jane, is not fair," she said. "How else would our dear Edward and William be lying in the churchyard, while the wretched Lindley boys win prizes in the Derby Horse Show?" Her bitterness surprised even her sister and aunt, who knew and loved her dearly. It did not, however, relieve her grief; both aunt and niece fell silent, as she wept.

Emily, meanwhile, threw herself into everything that needed doing--the choir, the school, the hospital, the campaign for the library, even a promise to help Fitzwilliam resurrect the Chartist petitions! But Fitzwilliam, now thinking of handing over the reins to Jonathan, had begun to lose interest in active Parliamentary politics. The deaths of both his hero, William Cobbett, and the famous "Orator" Hunt, whose speeches had resounded in his ears, had signalled for him the end of a great political era. Many reforms he had campaigned for had been achieved, though not in full measure, he would freely admit.

Since Edward's death, he had felt impelled to spend more time with Caroline and the children. The birth of their little daughter Rachel simply increased his desire to remain at home, rather than fight political battles at Westminster. He looked to settle down at his farm at Matlock and lead a quieter life, helping Mr Gardiner with the business and enjoying his family. Grateful for the love and unfailing loyalty Caroline had given him, Fitzwilliam hoped he could give her the support and love she deserved. Caroline, still energetic and determined to work with the rest of the women to achieve their goals, involved Emily and Rebecca in her campaigns. Whether it was education for girls or shelter for the destitute, they were active and vocal on every available occasion.

Rebecca, Caroline, and Emily brought so much vigour and conviction to their work, and with the backing of the Tate newspapers, they were so successful at getting things done for the district and its people, that folk were beginning to make jokes about getting the vote for women and putting them into Parliament. Their work had caught the attention of some quite distinguished persons too, who had written to congratulate them on their success. There was no denying that they were an excellent team.

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Early in 1837, the death of King William IV brought a very young Queen to the throne of England. It was regarded as a most auspicious moment in the nation's history. The Victorian Age had begun, and there was a new excitement abroad. Indeed, the entire country seemed to lift itself out of its malaise. Art, music, and literature were thriving, trade and commerce were profitable and growing, and though several social goals were still distant, there was hope of change and improvement, predominantly because the Parliament had been forced to act as an instrument of reform for the community, dealing with social issues as well as economic and political matters. No longer dominated by the landed gentry, it had begun to represent more of the people of Britain, and more importantly, it had begun to listen to them and act for them.