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

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Though she would not betray them to anyone and wished them joy with all her heart, she could not help feeling somewhat apprehensive.

  Clearly, they were as yet not ready to declare their intention and she hoped they would soon do so. Secrecy brought with it a multiplicity of problems, as Caroline knew better than anyone.

  On the journey home to Matlock, Caroline, no longer able to hold all this within herself, attempted to draw a reaction from her husband. Without disclosing the reason for her suspicions, she remarked that she thought her brother Richard and Cassy Darcy were in love, although they were probably not ready to reveal it to their families.

  Her husband, who had seemed rather preoccupied on the journey, replied in a matter-of-fact manner that it was not an unusual circumstance for young people to be in; reminding her of his own predicament before they were engaged, when he had to conceal his feelings for many months before he could summon up sufficient courage to ask her father's permission to court her.

  “Do you think that Richard is similarly concerned about approaching Mr Darcy?” she asked. “Could that be the reason he has not proposed to her yet? From my observation of them, I do not think there could be any doubt about his feelings, nor any uncertainty about hers.”

  Fitzwilliam was surprised at her question, “Why should you suppose that to be the case, my dear? My reluctance was based mainly on the difference in our ages—you were but fifteen years old and I was almost thirty-three; I feared your father would refuse my suit on the grounds that I was much too old for you. There is no such impediment in the case of Richard and Cassy. She is seventeen and your brother is twenty-five. Why should he fear rejection?”

  “You do not think then, Fitzy, that Mr Darcy would consider Richard unsuitable?”

  “Unsuitable? Caroline, your brother is perhaps the most eligible young man in the county; he is a fine, honourable fellow with an excellent profession, he is good-natured, clever, and exceedingly handsome, why should Darcy find him unsuitable?”

  “He is certainly all you say, Fitzy, and he is clearly in love with Cassy and she with him, but he has no estate and Cassy is Mr Darcy's only daughter. Is it not likely he would have high expectations for her?”

  Fitzwilliam was silent for a few minutes before saying in a very serious voice, “To my mind, Caroline, that would be all the more reason to let her marry Richard; his character and background are known and your parents are their dearest friends. Nothing could be simpler. My dear, if Richard and Cassy love each other and tell Mr Darcy so, I cannot see him standing in their way. Darcy will have to be very hard-hearted indeed, which I know he is not, to let the matter of an estate come between his daughter and the man she loves. No, I do not believe your brother has anything to fear,” he said, and Caroline, who trusted her husband's judgment implicitly on matters concerning his cousin Mr Darcy, agreed to be reassured.

  “Well, if you are right, I daresay we shall all know very soon. I cannot believe they will not be engaged after the ball tomorrow,” she said, her romantic heart content at last.

  Fitzwilliam, well aware of his wife's tender nature, had humoured her with talk of the young lovers. But he had other matters on his mind. He was looking forward to a meeting with Jonathan Bingley, who was also attending the ball at Pemberley on the morrow. Unbeknownst to Caroline, he had written Jonathan a note inviting him to call. There were matters far more serious than a romance in the family, which he wished to discuss with young Mr Bingley.

  On the morning of the ball, Caroline went to visit her parents at Lambton, quite deliberately, since she knew Richard would be there too. Finding him in the sitting room with Mrs Gardiner, she lingered awhile, hoping to discover if Cassy Darcy and he had guessed the identity of the person who had intruded upon their rendezvous the previous evening. But, despite the fact that he was alone with her in the room for fully fifteen minutes, while their mother had left them to go upstairs, Richard made no mention of the previous evening. Nor did he appear awkward or embarrassed by her presence. Obviously, Caroline thought, neither he nor Cassy had realised that it was she who had surprised them.

  Like most persons of a romantic inclination, Caroline would have given anything to know the answers to a myriad of questions.

  How long, she wondered, had her brother and Miss Darcy been in love?

  Did her parents know of it? Were his parents aware of his intentions? Did he intend to propose or ask Mr Darcy's permission first?

  These and other matters, vital to her peace of mind, plagued her. But since she had no opportunity to ask the questions, she could find no answers to them at all. It was most vexing indeed!

  Jonathan Bingley called on Colonel Fitzwilliam and found him alone. Caroline, he explained, was visiting her parents in Lambton.

  The two men went into the parlour, where Jonathan, who had been in London when the Houses of Parliament burned down, provided his host with a lively description of the blaze and its chaotic consequences for the business of government. Jonathan's association with the Wilsons, who were prominent Whig parliamentarians, gave him an insider's view of the situation.

  “It does mean there will be a good deal of disruption, but no doubt the administration of government will go on,” he said casually.

  Fitzwilliam's reply was uncharacteristically cynical. “Oh no doubt at all; after all, even if the Palace of Westminster is reduced to ashes, the bureaucrats and their minions will continue to impose all their harsh laws upon the people with even greater vigour.”

  His sardonic tone surprised young Jonathan, who looked a little puzzled and asked, “Do you refer to the new amendments to the Poor Laws, Colonel Fitzwilliam? I am told that they are being rather strictly imposed upon the unemployed and the destitute. My sister Emma is a member of a group of ladies who are trying to help children in poverty, and she has some very unhappy stories to relate of the consequences of such action. I believe many hitherto respectable families have been adversely affected. Emma has been very distressed.”

  Fitzwilliam agreed. “Indeed, Jonathan, your sister is right; not only are the poor being pauperised and forced into workhouses, but those placed in charge of these grim institutions are profiteering off the backs of the wretched inmates. Coming on top of the draconian laws against the taking of game or fish in the woods and on the commons, and the recent transportation of the six union members from Tolpuddle in Dorset, I must admit that I am beginning to have serious doubts about the value of continuing to sit in the Commons in support of this government after the next election.”

  Jonathan was shocked. “You cannot mean that, sir,” he said, taken aback not only by the vehemence of his speech but by the prospect of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had fought assiduously for the people he had represented, speaking passionately on their behalf on every occasion, declining to stand for Parliament again.

  “Indeed, I do,” affirmed the colonel, and the depth of his disillusion with the Whigs, for it was their law that was being used to harass and hound the poor, was astonishing. Jonathan had had no indication of his feelings before today.

  By the time they had finished their drinks and Jonathan made ready to leave, it was quite clear to him that the colonel had lost his enthusiasm for politics. A reformist at heart, he had been excited by the prospect of being part of a reforming parliament; clearly he had little interest in its present policies of penny pinching and repression.

  As they stood together in the hall, Fitzwilliam asked, “Have you ever considered standing for Parliament, Jonathan?”

  Even more astonished than before, Jonathan Bingley answered almost without thinking, “No, sir, I have not.”

  “Never? Would it not interest you, if an opportunity arose, sometime in the future?” Fitzwilliam persisted.

  This time, Jonathan considered the question a little longer.

  “Perhaps, I would not rule it out. But it is easier said than done, Colonel Fitzwilliam. The party does not hand out seats in the Commons to a mere nobody like me,” he said light
ly.

  “You are far too modest, Jonathan. I can see you doing very well in Parliament in the right circumstances. My colleague James Wilson speaks very highly of you.”

  “I am interested in promoting good policy, sir, and have done some work for Mr Wilson, but as for standing myself, I have not considered it.”

  Fitzwilliam smiled. “But you are not set against it?” he asked.

  “No, I am not, but at present…”

  “I am very glad to hear it—perhaps we shall talk again, one day,” Fitzwilliam said vaguely and Jonathan Bingley left, feeling even more confused than ever.

  The Pemberley Ball was a spectacular success, as such events usually were at Pemberley House. Its gracious proportions, beautiful grounds, and elegantly appointed apartments combined to provide an ideal setting for such an event.

  Mr Darcy had spared no expense, and his staff no effort, to make this a very special evening for the three young ladies in whose honour the ball was being given.

  Meticulously planned menus, exquisite crystal and chinaware, and not one but two groups of musicians to provide the music at dinner time and later for dancing made for a remarkable occasion.

  Mr and Mrs Darcy and their two handsome children, Cassandra and William, stood together in the hall to greet their guests. Cassy, dark haired, vivacious, and elegant, so much like her mother Elizabeth had been at her age; William, fair, gentle, and sensitive, already at fourteen a talented pianist; they were both much admired and there was no doubt their parents were proud of them.

  Some of the many guests and family members gathered at Pemberley remarked upon the sense of closeness between them, but none were aware of a secret that Cassy had shared with her mother only a few hours before they had come downstairs.

  Coming in to Elizabeth's room to borrow a piece of jewellery to match her new gown, Cassy had confessed to something her mother had suspected for several weeks. Revealing that Richard Gardiner had requested the pleasure of the first two dances, at least, she had said, “Mama, I fear I have fallen in love with him. I did not mean to, but there it is. It's happened.”

  When her mother had asked what caused her fear, Cassy had pointed to their concern that her father might not approve.

  “That would really break my heart,” she had said and Elizabeth, trying to discover the reason for this, had probed further, wondering why her daughter thought her father would disapprove of one of their favourite young men—son of the Gardiners, who were so very dear to them.

  There appeared to be no logical reason, except an anxiety that Mr Darcy may not consider Richard good enough for his daughter. Clearly, Cassy had no such reservations.

  “He is the most intelligent, handsome, kindest man for hundreds of miles around,” she had declared, and while her mother had no reason to dispute her opinion, she did try to persuade her daughter that it was best to wait until Richard had seen her father before leaping to any conclusions.

  Urging her daughter, meanwhile, to be discreet, Elizabeth had spoken of the matter to no one but her beloved sister Jane, whose delight was, as expected, boundless.

  “Lizzie, I cannot say how pleased I am. They are so well suited, I am sure they will be exceedingly happy together,” she said, her eyes shining.

  Watching the many attractive young couples dancing, the sisters recalled the time when they had both spent endless unhappy days and nights wracked by uncertainty, not knowing if the two men they had fallen in love with would return to ask for their hands in marriage.

  “Lizzie, when I think how we suffered, I am happy that in these times of greater openness, our children will be spared such wholly unnecessary grief,” said Jane, and Lizzie agreed. It brought back many memories, not all equally pleasant. They had endured trying times before everything was settled between them.

  The music started up again, and as they watched Richard and Cassandra take their places in the dance, they enjoyed their shared secret. It was almost like being back at Longbourn and Netherfield again.

  Meanwhile, Caroline, convinced that her brother was on the verge of proposing marriage to Miss Darcy, had hoped she might be one of the first to learn the news. Throughout the evening, she had sought an opportunity to speak with him, but none came. When the ball ended and the guests were leaving, she looked everywhere but could see neither Richard nor Cassy.

  William Darcy had been persuaded to entertain a party of guests in the music room, from where their enthusiastic applause for his playing could be heard. Richard and Cassandra were not, however, among them, Caroline noted.

  Recalling the episode of the previous evening, she smiled to herself, believing the lovers had “disappeared” for a while, but then saw them come in from the conservatory and join the Darcys at the foot of the great staircase. This time, Richard stayed with Cassy as she and her parents accepted the thanks of the departing guests.

  Had he asked her? Caroline did not know and it was most vexing indeed!

  On the journey home, Caroline expressed disbelief that Richard and Cassandra were not as yet engaged.

  “They are obviously in love and if he has already approached Mr Darcy, I do not understand why there has been no announcement tonight. It would have saved the trouble of writing to everyone. Besides, it will not do for the entire county to be gossiping about them, as they must, if no engagement is announced. No one who has seen them together tonight can doubt they are in love.”

  Caroline's daughter Isabella recalled later how very anxious her mother had seemed that night about Richard and Cassy.

  “It was as though Mama was impatient to share their happiness,” she wrote to her Aunt Emily, who had wanted to be told all the news.

  On the morrow, however, while they were having a late breakfast, the arrival of Richard and Cassy, bringing news of their engagement, put an end to Caroline's anxiety. The happy couple brought also an invitation from Mrs Darcy for the Fitzwilliams to join the family at a celebratory picnic luncheon on the grounds of Pemberley.

  “You must all come, it is such a glorious day,” said Richard, and Cassy added, “The very day for a picnic, is it not, Cousin Caroline?”

  Caroline agreed, embracing her brother and Cassandra fondly and wishing them every happiness, “Indeed it is so perfect that you will always remember the day of your engagement. But then, how could you ever forget?”

  It was to be a most prophetic remark, and in the years to come, they would all recall the moment when Caroline had said it.

  END OF PART TWO

  IN THE YEARS THAT FOLLOWED, neither Caroline nor her husband would ever forget the moment when they knew for certain that Edward, their eldest son, was dead.

  Nothing, not the passage of years, the comfort of family and friends, nor all the accumulated pleasures of life with their other children, could erase the awful horror of that instant.

  Caroline had been inconsolable. A cold, unfeeling hand seemed to have gripped her heart and squeezed it until she could feel nothing but the pain. Not even the dreadful reality that Darcy and Elizabeth had lost William, their only son, had had any impact upon her except when she saw both coffins at the church and heard her cousin sobbing beside her.

  It had been such an idyllic, luminously lovely Autumn afternoon at Pemberley. Richard and Cassandra had, on becoming engaged, bestowed upon the day a special magic that everyone shared and wished to celebrate.

  After a delectable feast, partaken of in the shade of ancient trees beside the stream in that mellow, hazy weather which sometimes returns in mid-Autumn to remind us that Summer is not quite ready to depart, the family had been wrapped in a comfortable mood of optimism and fun. There had been so much to look forward to.

  Yet, as Summer's sweet pleasures are often disrupted by inclement weather, only a few hours later, apprehension, dread, and finally total desolation had overtaken them all.

  First there was the anxiety on discovering that young William Darcy and Edward had gone out riding with Tom Lindley, son of a horse breeder recently settle
d near Bakewell. Elizabeth had been alarmed because William never rode unfamiliar horses; they made him nervous.

  There followed the agony of waiting as Darcy, with his steward and Richard, had ridden out after them, up into the wooded hills behind Pemberley, only to return an hour or more later with the news that the two boys had been killed in a horrific accident.

  The disbelief and shock, followed by the appalling realisation that it was indeed true, was something none of them could forget.

  Even years later, Caroline could not look back upon that day without experiencing intense feelings of hate and outrage. Hate for the Lindley brothers, who, having arrived uninvited on that happy afternoon, had enticed William and Edward away to their deaths, and outrage that whatever power guided the universe had not seen fit to save their boys from the consequences of a foolhardy adventure.