My Cousin Caroline: The acclaimed Pride and Prejudice sequel series The Pemberley Chronicles Book 6

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  He had come to say farewell to Georgiana and the staff, especially Mrs Reynolds, before returning to London to take up his appointment to the colonies. Darcy and Elizabeth were on their wedding journey and were not expected to return to Pemberley until Christmas. He remembered Georgiana, handsome but still rather gauche at sixteen. He had hoped her new companion, Mrs Annesley, who seemed a well-educated woman, would help her overcome some of her awkwardness.

  He had subsequently met up with the others quite by chance in London when Darcy, Bingley, and their new brides had been invited to the Gardiners' and he had been of the party too. The recollection of that evening brought back many memories.

  Now, here he was returning to Pemberley, and there was uncertainty about his plans; he was unsure of many things, except he was very glad to be back in England.

  As the vehicle approached Pemberley House, the sun slanting down through the trees to the west of the building gilded the glass windows and cast great pools of indigo shadow on the lawn. Fitzwilliam could remember it exactly as it was. He was glad very little had changed here.

  At the entrance he was met by a servant who greeted him, and then Mrs Reynolds, who welcomed him most effusively, declaring that the master and mistress would be very pleased to see him, she was sure, even if he was a month early.

  “They were not expecting you this early in the season, sir, but I know they will be very happy to see you and looking so well too, if I may say so, sir.”

  When he asked if Mr Darcy was at home, she replied, “No, sir, he is gone with Mr Gardiner to Liverpool; they are expected to return in time for dinner. But Mrs Darcy is home and she has Mrs Gardiner with her. They are taking tea on the west lawn.”

  Fitzwilliam knew this was the moment he had most wished to avoid. Meeting Elizabeth without her husband at her side, seeing her while in his heart he still remembered his own tender feelings for her, he knew it was not going to be easy. As he made his way across the front of the house to the west lawn, he heard voices, not Elizabeth's or Mrs Gardiner's, but young, girlish voices. Someone was reading poetry, a familiar poem by Wordsworth; not a favourite of his but popular with young ladies, he had discovered.

  A gentle, well-modulated voice spoke the words, as he hung back to listen.

  “Never did sun more beautifully steep

  In his first splendour, valley, rock or hill

  Dear God, the very houses seem asleep

  And all that mighty heart is lying still…”

  As she finished, there was applause from her audience and he heard Elizabeth say, “Well done, Caroline, that was very good.”

  Fitzwilliam knew then that the young voices must belong to Mrs Gardiner's daughters: Caroline, whom he remembered as a pretty girl with a very appealing singing voice, and her sister Emily, who was only a child at the time he had left for the colonies.

  Walking quickly along the path, Fitzwilliam approached the group seated on the lawn and added his appreciation.

  “That was very well spoken, Miss Caroline,” he said, and everyone turned around, startled to see him standing there in front of them.

  Elizabeth had jumped up from her chair.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam! What are you doing here?” she cried.

  Smiling, unabashed but apologetic for startling her, he kissed her hand and greeted her affectionately.

  “Mrs Darcy, Elizabeth, please forgive me, I know I am not expected until the end of the month, but I had the rare chance of a berth on a naval vessel leaving Colombo to return to England and I could not resist it.

  “I have been eager to return ever since I received Darcy's letter.”

  Seeing Elizabeth again after several years, now an even more handsome young woman, a wife, and recently a mother, he was struck by her beauty. There was also the quality of openness and warmth of feeling that he had found so appealing when they had first met. She had changed very little; her charm was still fascinating.

  This time, it was part of the role she played as Mistress of Pemberley, gracious and welcoming, inviting him to take tea as a fresh pot was brought, asking after his health and his journey down from London, wanting to assure him he was welcome to stay at Pemberley.

  Turning to Mrs Gardiner and her two daughters, who had sat quietly while Elizabeth plied him with questions and poured out his tea, Colonel Fitzwilliam found Mrs Gardiner no different to when he had last seen her: pleasant, intelligent, and amiable as ever. He remarked at the happy coincidence of their meeting at Pemberley, and she mentioned that Mr Gardiner had received his letter.

  He then turned to tell Miss Caroline Gardiner again how well he had enjoyed her reading of Wordsworth. Only then did he, looking directly at her, notice for the first time how very different she was to the pretty little girl he remembered from three years ago. Caroline had risen from her place and was standing by the table, getting her mother a cup of tea. She was taller, he noticed, and there was a new gracefulness to her figure as she moved. Her gown was elegantly simple and her hair styled in a more grown-up, upswept fashion. The delicacy of her features was enhanced by a subtle blush that was surely more maidenly than childlike, he thought.

  Fitzwilliam was quite enchanted.

  Sitting down beside her, he talked some more and their conversation turned upon the book of poems from which they had been reading.

  Fitzwilliam confessed he had purchased a copy in London, Emily asked if he had a favourite poem, and so it was they came to read the lines by William Blake, the visionary poet.

  Even as he read it with Caroline joining in, he could hear in her voice the passion of youth, as she trembled when she spoke Blake's inspirational words,

  “Bring me my bow of burning gold,

  Bring me my arrows of desire

  Bring my spear, O clouds unfold,

  Bring me my Chariot of Fire.

  I shall not cease from mental fight,

  Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand

  Till we have built Jerusalem

  In England's green and pleasant land.”

  As they finished, Mrs Gardiner and Elizabeth applauded enthusiastically, but Caroline seemed rather shy; however, before Fitzwilliam could speak, they heard footsteps approaching at great speed and Mr Darcy, having just that moment returned from Liverpool and heard the news, appeared, almost running into his cousin in his haste. They greeted one another with warmth and great affection, and soon arrangements were being made to have Fitzwilliam's things fetched from Lambton. He must stay at Pemberley; they would hear of nothing else.

  Later that evening, Mr Gardiner arrived and the three friends, now also business partners, were soon deep in conversation as Mrs Gardiner and Elizabeth took the two girls upstairs to bed. Mr Gardiner was delighted to see Fitzwilliam; he had not expected him back in England for a month or more. The colonel regarded Mr Gardiner with enormous respect, both as a businessman and friend. Indeed, he had an exceedingly high opinion of the entire Gardiner family.

  Meeting like this, unexpectedly at Pemberley, brought back many pleasant memories of evenings spent together at the Gardiners' home in London; evenings of warm hospitality, excellent entertainment, and interesting conversation such as he could rarely find elsewhere in London at the time. He recalled that it had been quite a wrench to say farewell before leaving for the colonies.

  Fitzwilliam had much to discuss with Mr Gardiner and his cousin Darcy. He had maintained a regular correspondence with both men over the years and wanted to know their views on his present plans.

  He told them of his desire to join the reform movement, and it was soon clear to Darcy and Mr Gardiner that his commitment to the cause was sincere and serious.

  “I am resolved that we must demand reform in the Parliament and the extension of the franchise to the middle class, the men who create the wealth that makes England the foremost trading nation in the world and yet have no voice in her government,” he declared and as always, Mr Gardiner, prudent and wise, counselled caution, urging him to consider carefully
the implications and consequences of committing to one or the other of the political parties.

  “Would you be prepared to stand for Parliament, Colonel Fitzwilliam?” he asked, to which the colonel replied with some alacrity, “Yes, if need be, I will.”

  Elizabeth and Darcy, who had previously discussed Fitzwilliam's possible ambition to enter Parliament, exchanged glances but said nothing. He had been quite certain but she not so sure Fitzwilliam had the will to do so.

  Later that night, she acknowledged that her husband had been right.

  However, he did admit that he had not anticipated the energy and enthusiasm with which his cousin had entered the lists on the side of the reformists.

  “He is totally resolved upon this course, Lizzie, it has become a cause celébre with him, I think. But he means to accomplish several other things too; we have discussed half a dozen at least, already. He tells me he wishes to purchase a farm in the neighbourhood.”

  “Does he seriously mean to settle here?” asked his wife.

  “He certainly does, and enter into a business partnership with your uncle Gardiner as well,” Darcy replied.

  Elizabeth was concerned, wondering if this burst of energy could last. This was so different to the Fitzwilliam she remembered—a young man with little ambition, somewhat irritated by his lot as a younger son with no fortune or title, but a man nevertheless with a sense of fun and certainly no burning desire to do much more than enjoy the comfortable style of life his place in society afforded him.

  Darcy sought to reassure her. “Well, my dear, he is older and more mature; life in the colonies has taught him responsibility if nothing else. Furthermore, he is no longer the dependent and disadvantaged younger son, waiting on his father's generosity for an allowance; he has a reasonable income from his investments and a small fortune in property overseas. He is able to follow his inclinations now, whereas before, he was bound by his circumstances to be cautious,” he explained.

  Elizabeth was interested to pursue this further.

  “Does this mean he is now able to follow his heart in matrimonial matters as well as his inclination in politics?” she asked.

  Darcy's answer was emphatic. “Undoubtedly, there can be no constraint upon him on that score, except in matters of character and disposition, of course.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “And Lady Catherine would not pursue him as vigorously as she might have done before?”

  Her husband knew she was teasing and, anticipating her next question, said, “There is no way of knowing how assiduously Lady Catherine may prosecute her cause; Fitzwilliam is a particular favourite of hers.”

  “As you were?” interposed his wife.

  “Indeed, but while one may not predict her actions, we can say with certainty that Fitzwilliam's fortune is now considerably more than anything she could take away from him. His assets have an increasing value, based as they are upon trade, the fastest growing enterprise on earth.” Darcy smiled and, turning to regard his wife, added, “No, Lizzie, my dear, I think he will be free to make whatever choices he wishes. We must hope and pray they will be the right ones for him.”

  Sometime later, contemplating her husband's words, Elizabeth realised that Colonel Fitzwilliam was clearly a changed man, very different to the one she had met some four years ago when visiting Charlotte Collins at Hunsford. It appeared he was back from the Eastern Colonies a man of independent means, mature and decisive, politically active, seeking to purchase a property, and with the capacity to marry a woman of his choice, unimpeded by the dictates and prejudices of his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, or anyone else.

  That, at least, gave Elizabeth some satisfaction, for she knew from personal experience that Lady Catherine would dearly wish to arrange a suitable match for her now much more eligible nephew. To see her thwarted yet again would give Elizabeth particular pleasure.

  Writing to her friend Charlotte Collins, she could express her feelings candidly, knowing Charlotte could keep a confidence.

  My dear Charlotte, I am sure you will be delighted to hear that the amiable Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Darcy's cousin and Lady Catherine's nephew, is back from the colonies, where it seems he managed to make a small fortune, which now renders him independent of his aunt and his father. A singularly satisfactory situation you will agree, I think.

  Mr Darcy tells me he has plans to go into business, enter Parliament, and acquire a property as well. This sounds suspiciously like a man who may be preparing to take a wife and I look forward with great interest to see who the lady of his choice may be and—and this is the most pressing question—will his aunt approve of her. To be thrice disappointed in the marriage partners of her dear nephews will be a grievous blow to Lady C's pretensions indeed, do you not agree?

  Having despatched her letter to the post, Elizabeth came downstairs to find Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam deep in discussion in the sitting room. Fitzwilliam had sought Darcy's opinion on a property, a small freehold farm near Matlock, which Mr Gardiner had mentioned as a prospect worth considering. Fitzwilliam, having seen it already, was most enthusiastic and urged his cousin to accompany him so they could inspect it together.

  It transpired later that Darcy had tried to counsel him against undue haste, but to no avail.

  “He is quite determined, my dear, so it is probably best that I take a look at this property, if only to assure myself that he is making the right decision.”

  “Did you assure him that he could stay at Pemberley as long as need be?” asked his wife.

  “I most certainly did, Lizzie, but he is in no mood to procrastinate; he insists he must see this place and he must have my opinion. If he finds it suitable, I'll wager my estate that he will probably purchase it before the week is out,” he replied.

  Elizabeth was, by now, quite certain there had to be a lady involved.

  “Perhaps he is secretly engaged and means to impress the lady,” she said, but her husband shook his head.

  “I am sorry to disappoint you, my dear, but I have asked him, quite bluntly, and he has given me his word this is not the case. Indeed, there is no suggestion that he is intending to impress a prospective bride or anyone else with pretensions of being the lord of the manor; he tells me he seeks only to acquire a solid house with some acreage of farm and woodland. He means to be a farmer,” Darcy explained, to his wife's consternation. This did not sound like the Fitzwilliam she knew at all.

  When, on the following Saturday, the Darcys gave a dinner party at Pemberley to make Fitzwilliam welcome, almost everyone in the neighbourhood attended. The colonel, a regular visitor to Pemberley since his college days, was well liked and had many good friends in the district. Now, he was back and the news that he had acquired a fortune in the colonies and was still single seemed to have increased his desirability as an acquaintance. All his friends and some of his relatives attended, and Doctor Grantley, who was to marry Georgiana Darcy in the Spring, travelled up from Oxford to be present.

  Elizabeth and Mrs Reynolds had spent many hours planning the occasion, and the dinner was a triumph, with much fine food and wine.

  Afterwards, there came the usual calls for entertainment—dancing and music. Elizabeth and Georgiana obliged, and then young Miss Gardiner, whose clear, youthful voice had been enhanced by training and practise, sang a beautiful English air to general applause.

  While she was putting her music away, Colonel Fitzwilliam joined her and Elizabeth at the pianoforte and invited Caroline to sing with him the duet they had performed together some three years ago, on the eve of his departure. Caroline had the music, and Elizabeth, though she could not recall it very well, was soon persuaded to accompany them as before. The song was then so delightfully rendered it held the company entranced, with the servants reluctant to bring in the coffee and sweets lest they should break the spell.

  Amidst the applause that followed its conclusion, Colonel Fitzwilliam gallantly kissed Caroline's hand, and this time, she blushed as she curtseyed deeply before r
eturning to her place beside her cousin Jane. Only then did she realise that she was trembling.

  Elizabeth was curious to discover how Fitzwilliam had recalled the words of the song so well. He confessed he had never forgotten them. The song, he said, had haunted him and he had requested a copy, which the Gardiners had kindly provided. “It soon became my favourite party piece,” he said and Elizabeth teasingly pressed him further.

  “And did you always find a partner willing to sing it with you?”

  “Oh yes,” he replied, “but never one who could match the original for perfect harmony and sweetness. As you heard, Miss Gardiner has a most enchanting voice.”

  Elizabeth, perhaps hearing rather more in his words than he had intended to convey, thought he was probably enchanted by more than Miss Gardiner's voice, but said nothing, not wishing to spoil such a happy occasion.