Women of Pemberley (10 page)

Spring had well and truly arrived in the Weald of Kent, with its rich pastures, orchards, woodlands, and many splendid country estates, when Emma wrote to Emily Courtney.

In Kent, we have been blessed with truly perfect Spring weather--of the kind that makes one's spirit soar!
Except for the threat of an occasional seasonal downpour, for which one must always go well prepared, it is ideal for walking, being uniformly soft and subtle, without the heat of Summer or the chill of Winter to complain about.
I have taken to indulging in my favourite pastime of reading out of doors rather than in the library or the living room. The girls and I have been walking all over the park and occasionally down to the village, which lies at the bottom of the valley. There are always plenty of excellent spots in the woods, which are beautiful now, and in the meadows beside the many streams, where we enjoy a quiet rest and read.
Last Saturday, we had gone out on just such a venture, enjoying the fresh air and exercise, when the sound of horses alerted us to the arrival of visitors, who turned out to be none other than Jonathan who had come down from London with James.
So enamoured were they of the pretty spot we had chosen for our "reading place" that they were loathe to leave and stayed with us until it was time to return to the house.
Victoria and Stephanie were a little weary and wanted to be lifted onto the horses, which the gentlemen then carefully guided home while I walked with them. We walked along the lanes and across the meadows, strewn with wild flowers, all in soft sunshine and a gentle breeze.
Can you not imagine, dear Emily, what a happy afternoon it made-- for all of us and especially for my dear daughters?

Emily could certainly see that it would have made a very pleasant afternoon, but reading between and betwixt the lines, she could also sense the delight in her cousin's words.

They had spent several hours during the last few months, sharing their experience and understanding of the sorrows that life had dealt them. Here for the first time, Emily was being given a glimpse of the effect that a healthy dose of happiness could have on Emma's life.

She read on to learn that preparations were afoot at Standish Park for their journey to Canterbury, which was to be undertaken over a period of a week, for there was much to be seen both in the ancient cathedral city and on the way. It was natural that they would all be very excited.

Her health has improved somewhat since we have been here, but she has been advised not to risk its deterioration by undertaking a journey at this time. I was concerned about leaving her behind, but she assures me that with her maid and the two excellent nurses, who care for her day and night, she will be well looked after.

Our party will therefore consist of Mrs Elliot, myself and the two girls, James, his manservant, and my maid Sally--apart from the coachman and groom, of course. We are all looking forward to it very much, indeed. Stephanie and Victoria can hardly sleep for the excitement, and try as I might to remain calm, I am being drawn into the whirlpool, too.

When I next write I promise I shall tell you all about Canterbury, Chilham, and the other interesting places I am assured we are going to see.
God bless you.
Your loving cousin,
Emma.

On the morning on which they were to leave, the post brought several letters for James and one for Emma. Seeing it was from her mother, she tucked it into her pocket book, while James took his into the study, where he spent but a short time before emerging, apparently pleased with his correspondence, smiling and eager to set off for Canterbury.

The children were agog with excitement, and everything they would need on their journey had already been packed; all that remained was to take their leave of Mrs Wilson and be gone.

It was a fair distance to Canterbury, and they broke journey twice on the way. They visited the great estate and mansion at Godmersham and the neighbouring village of Chilham, some five miles from Canterbury, where a unique castle had been built in Jacobean times on a spot where Julius Caesar was supposed to have camped when he invaded England.

Its present owners had obtained the services of "Capability Brown," England's most celebrated landscape gardener, to create a romantic retreat. James was full of information about its history, and while Emma could appreciate the design and artistry of the place, Chilham did not really appeal to her.

She reluctantly admitted that, except for the lovely vistas of the gardens, she was not greatly attracted to Chilham. James pretended at first to be very disappointed, but when she was immediately contrite he laughed and confessed that he was teasing her. "It would not distress me unduly if you were not to like Chilham, Emma, but Canterbury, now that would be quite another matter."

Emma promised to make every effort to like Canterbury, asking to be guided on its most remarkable features so she could properly appreciate them. James, thereafter, spent the rest of their journey telling them all there was to know about the ancient cathedral city.

Emma and Mrs Elliot had asked many questions and were both quite amazed at the depth of his knowledge until he confessed to having spent several years of his boyhood at the home of his uncle, a former warden at the cathedral, from whom he had learnt most of the history of this great medieval place of pilgrimage.

Emma was familiar with the story of Thomas a Becket, but both her daughters were wide eyed as James told the terrible tale of his murder in the cathedral.

On reaching the town, they went first to their lodgings, which were not far from the cathedral precinct. Later, they would walk about the town and savour its historic atmosphere as well as its fine Georgian architecture. They planned to spend the following day at the cathedral.

That night, Emma and her daughters, despite being weary from travelling, sat down before going to bed and wrote in her diary an account of their journey and the many things they had learned.

I am continually astonished at his knowledge and interest in so many subjects. I could scarcely have conducted a conversation of the most trivial nature on any of these topics with David, so little interest did he display in them, yet with James, there is no end of matters to talk about.

Furthermore, he surprises me daily with his kindness and consideration--not just to me and the children but to Mrs Elliot and Sally, as well.
Nothing seems to be too much trouble if it will enhance our comfort or improve our conditions. Unaccustomed as I am to all this attention, I have to confess that it is exceedingly pleasurable and I certainly do not complain of it.

Emma had become increasingly aware in the past few days of the particular attention that James paid to her--his customary consideration seemed to be enhanced by a degree of tender concern.

Whether it was in a look or a touch of his hand upon her arm, or a particular expression on his face as she caught him watching her in an unguarded moment, she could not exactly tell. She was certain, however, that their relationship had deepened almost imperceptibly from a general warm friendliness to a level that had struck a new chord in her heart.

She did not stop to question whether her own feelings were deeply involved. There was no need to do so, she told herself--James was her brother-in-law and she had always loved him for his kindness to her and her children.

Now, however, a new emotion was confronting her and demanding attention. She was not uncomfortable with it, but wished she had someone, a sister or a friend, to confide in. She longed for Emily, sure that from her she would receive both understanding and wise counsel.

Emma, unlike her mother at an earlier age, was neither naive nor unsophisticated in her understanding of social relationships. Spending most of her ten years of marriage to David Wilson in London had considerably sharpened her perceptive faculties.

Each night after dinner, James would inquire after their comfort and wellbeing, before planning the program for the morrow. Were they tired of ancient historical sites? Would they prefer a drive up into the downs where there were several pretty villages to be seen? "There is nowhere else in England quite like Kent," he said, as they planned another excursion. "Almost every fold of the downs holds a hidden piece of history or some beautiful old village."

Mrs Elliot had a strong constitution and appeared to suffer not at all from all the exertion, and the girls seemed quite tireless and were eager to set off on yet another expedition. Emma, however, had wearied after days of sight-seeing and asked if she could stay in and write her letters--all of which were overdue--while the others went into town.

Resting in the cool parlour, where their host had provided her with tea, she had been working industriously when James returned in the middle of the morning, having left the others visiting the ancient abbey of St Augustine.

She was reading again the letter from her mother, which she had received on the day they had set out on their journey. She put it aside when James walked in, apologising for interrupting her.

He sat down beside her and, remarking that she looked rather pale, asked if he could bring her some refreshment.
Emma protested that she was quite well. "It is just that I was a little tired from too much walking yesterday, and I thought I should rest today and write my letters," she said.
"Of course, you must," he said and then, seeing the letter lying on the table, asked in a tone that was meant to sound light-hearted, "No doubt your parents are missing you and wanting you back?"
Emma smiled and James seemed to believe that it implied confirmation of his remark. Yet, when she spoke, her reply was ambivalent. "Mother has her days full with my two sisters and Jonathan's little ones whenever he and Amelia are in London. I do not believe she has had time to miss me--yet. In a month or two, perhaps..."
"Does that mean we shall have the pleasure of your company for a while longer?" he asked, and when she replied that she had not decided when they would be going home, he was unable to contain his anguish.
"Emma, but Standish Park is your home. You must not speak as if you are mere visitors there."
There was something in the altered tone of his voice that prompted her to look up at him, and she saw in his countenance, and particularly in the expression of his eyes, what she recognised as the change in the relationship between them. While nothing had been said, she could not fail to be aware of a distinct deepening of their feelings towards one another. It was clear to her that James was aware of it, also.
Emma had already acknowledged to herself a subtle change in her own attitude towards him. It had altered her view of life as she realised that she was no longer looking forward to going "home" to her parents. Instead, she found herself anticipating the evenings they spent together at Standish Park, which was--as James had pointed out--her home and that of her children.
During the weeks since she had returned to Kent, she had become more involved with running the household on account of Mrs Wilson's ill health. She had known several of the staff for many years, and they accepted her as the mistress of Standish Park with ease. James had begun to consult her on decisions concerning the house and grounds. It gave her a new dignity, which she was enjoying very much.
There had been days on which they spent many pleasant hours discussing the changes that were being made at Standish Park, changes that were to improve the property or the lives of the people who lived and worked on the estate.
While James did not press her further, she felt obliged to make it clear to him that she had, at this time, no plans to return to Ashford Park.
The smile that lit up his face was sufficient to express his feelings, but he had to say, "I am very happy to hear it, Emma. No one wants you to leave here--we would all miss you very much, and the children, of course. I know my mother would be particularly sad and so, indeed, would I."
The sounds of the others returning interrupted their conversation, but Emma was very glad they had spoken.
Returning to Standish Park the following night, they were very tired, but wanted to talk about their wonderful week at Canterbury.
Victoria and Stephanie had so much to tell their grandmother, Emma was afraid they would weary her. But Mrs Wilson enjoyed it all. "It is so good having you all home again," she said at breakfast the next morning as she looked around the table at her family, "I missed you very much, especially you, Emma--no one can sing for me as you do."
Emma looked across at James and, catching his eye, she smiled, remembering their conversation. He had been quite sincere when he had said how sad they would all be had she decided to return to Leicestershire.
Some days later, the post brought some sad news. Mrs Elliot had an urgent letter from her sister in London. Her mother was ill and was asking to see her.
She was anxious to go to her. "Of course, you must go," said Emma, and she went immediately to find James and arrange for transport to take her to meet the coach.
She left soon afterwards to get the coach to Rochester, where she would change for London. The girls were tearful, pleading with her to write soon. They would miss her terribly. Emma and Sally made sure they were bathed and in bed early.
Later, Emma came downstairs to find James alone in the sitting room. He was standing at the end of the room, looking out of the big bay windows and turned as she entered. It was a truly perfect late Spring evening.
When he spoke, she responded naturally, almost without thinking. "It is such a beautiful evening Emma, will you take a turn in the garden with me?" he asked.
There was no need for words. She smiled and took his arm as they went out onto the terrace and down the steps.
They walked along a familiar path, between the rose garden and the shrubbery. Very little of any substance was said by either, as they watched the birds fly in from the distant fields to rest in the trees around the grounds, and yet they were clearly in harmony as they walked together, turning away from the house towards the grove of fine old oaks that shaded its western face from the afternoon sun.
Hearing church bells in the distance, James broke the silence, reminding her that the bell ringers were practising for the wedding of Claire Greenacre, the daughter of a neighbouring family.
"Tomorrow she will marry her childhood sweetheart; I have known them both all our lives. We played together as children," he said.
"Do you think they will be happy, James?" Emma asked. She knew Claire very slightly but had no knowledge of her bridegroom.
He smiled and nodded, but he did not exactly answer her question. Instead, he turned and, looking directly at her with a very purposeful expression, said, "Emma, forgive me. I know I have not said anything to prepare you for this, but please, let me tell you now how much you are appreciated and loved, and how happy you would make me if you stayed on with us at Standish Park permanently."
She was at once surprised and flattered, but she seemed also a little puzzled, not quite comprehending his meaning.
"Thank you, James, you are very kind. I have no intention of leaving, at least not in the near future. Do you mean...?"
He interrupted her, realising that he had to speak clearly now, lest his words were completely misconstrued and the opportunity lost. "I mean, my dearest Emma, that I love you dearly and would be honoured if you would agree to be my wife," he said and, seeing her eyes widen with astonishment, he went on very quickly, "Please, do not say no at once. Take some time to think about it. But I do ask you, most earnestly, to believe that it will make me the happiest of men, and I would do everything in my power to look after you and the girls and make you truly happy."
She looked at him and was surprised at what seemed to be a look of genuine apprehension upon his face.
He was about to tell her of his affection for Victoria and Stephanie when she gently took his hand in hers and said quietly, "James, thank you. I am truly honoured, but..."
But he interrupted her again, afraid she was about to refuse him. "Emma, please, there is no hurry; you can take all the time you want." "I don't need any more time, James--and you are right, I was unprepared for this, so I have not got a pretty speech ready for you, but may I say...would it be acceptable if I just said thank you and yes?"
She was watching his face as his expression changed from slight bewilderment to alarm and then to complete heartfelt delight as he embraced her and thanked her from the bottom of his heart.
"My darling Emma," he began, but neither of them would remember how he ended as he told her in many sincere and loving words how deeply he cared and how much joy she had given him.
He had dared, he said, to hope, but he had been afraid to ask too soon. "I was terrified you would refuse my love," he confessed, and Emma smiled and set his heart at rest.
"Dear James, there was never any danger of that; because, you see, I already knew I loved you. You have been so good to me..."
But he would not let her continue. "Hush, my love, please do not speak of that, for I have done little more than I--my whole family--owed you for the intolerable mistreatment you endured at the hands of my brother for years. My love for you, which has grown upon me gradually, has taken over all my waking hours. Emma, my dearest, I give you my word; you will never regret your decision today," he said with so much warmth and sincerity that she was overwhelmed.
Her certainty not only of his love but of her own deep feelings, which had come rushing to the surface as he spoke, prevented her from saying very much more. Yet, her face was suffused with an expression of such sweetness as left James in no doubt of her state of mind. There was surely, in their case, the happiest coincidence of feelings.
As they went indoors, the candles were being lit, and James suggested that it would be best to tell his mother their news tonight and the children tomorrow. Emma said she would write to her parents immediately. "I do not need their permission, but I would like to have their blessing," she said.
"You have that already, Emma," said James, taking her father's letter from his pocket. "This arrived on the morning we left for Canterbury; I have been carrying it around like a talisman all this time, waiting for the right moment to approach you."
She read it quickly. Bingley's letter was brief but quite clear. He thanked James for his letter, pointed out that his daughter was certainly entitled to marry whomever she chose, but that he and Mrs Bingley would be delighted to give them their blessing if she accepted his proposal of marriage. He added that if he was accepted, James should consider himself the most fortunate of men.
"Of that there is no question," said James.
"Dear Papa," she sighed, "he believes that the entire world shares his high opinion of his daughters."
"Well, I have not met a single soul who thought differently," James countered, and Emma smiled as she also noted the reference by her father to the trust arrangements for herself and her daughters, suggested by James. She asked him what they were meant to accomplish.
"That, my dearest, was signed and sealed before our attorneys more than two weeks ago," he said, reminding her of Jonathan's visit.
"That was when it was arranged," he explained. "The reason it was put in place was simply this--we felt, Mother and I, that the trust would give you independence. It was the right thing to do because, had you decided against me, it would have been unthinkable that you should remain financially dependent upon my mother and myself. As it is, the arrangement stands; whatever happens to us, your income and the children's future can be assured."
Emma was so touched by the generosity of this gesture that she pulled him closer and hugged him affectionately, careless of who might see them.
"Dear, dear James, how much kinder or more generous can you be? I am seriously concerned that I shall never be able to match your goodness." And when he tried to hush her, for his natural modesty was outraged, she turned to him with tears in her eyes and said, "No, James, let me say it, now that I have a right to do so. I have not known such kindness outside of my own dear family. I shall not only be happy but proud, indeed, to be your wife."
Later she would write to Emily in similar vein: