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

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Caroline stopped him in mid sentence.

  “We are not customers, sir, I am Mrs Caroline Fitzwilliam, Mr Edward Gardiner's eldest daughter, and this is Colonel Fitzwilliam, my husband and one of my father's partners. Mr Gardiner is away in France and we are here in response to your express letter about Mr Upton's arrest. I take it you are Mr Culver?”

  As the meaning of her words appeared to sink in, there was an obvious diminution of the gentleman's air of confidence. By the time she asked the question, he was standing in front of her, his mouth a little open, his eyes staring in disbelief.

  “Are you not?” Caroline repeated gently but quite firmly.

  Like a marionette jerked into sudden activity, he nodded his head and said, “Indeed I am, ma'am, Humphrey Culver, at your service. My father is Mr Upton's attorney and I am his clerk. I have just come from the courts, where Mr Upton has been before the magistrate and has been asked to provide surety of a hundred pounds if he is to be granted bail. I have come to discover whether there is anyone here who could be persuaded to stand…”

  Caroline interrupted him again and said quickly, “Colonel Fitzwilliam will go with you,” then turning to her husband, assured him she would be quite safe in the office while he and Mr Culver attended to the matter of Mr Upton's bail. “We need to discover what has occurred, how has Mr Upton come to be charged, and what evidence has been produced against him. I shall stay here and talk to these gentlemen until you and Mr Culver return with poor Mr Upton.” At this, another deep sigh went up from the corner of the room.

  The absolute confidence with which she had spoken had surprised even her husband, but Fitzwilliam knew there was little he could do in the office; Caroline knew more about her father's business than anyone else in the family except Mr Gardiner himself.

  As he left with Culver, who still looked exceedingly startled, Fitzwilliam noticed that Caroline had sat down again and opened up the large, bulging file of papers on Mr Upton's desk.

  As the door closed behind Culver and Fitzwilliam, Caroline stood up and moved to the centre of the office. It was a large room, but not as tidy as it might have been, which made it seem small and cluttered.

  Standing beside a table on which stood a wilting aspidistra, Caroline addressed the others, saying in a voice as convincing as she could make it, “Now, you all heard what I said to Mr Culver; in my father's absence, we must discover how it was that Mr Upton got himself into such a bother with the customs. It is not at all like him and I do not believe for a moment that he was trying to defraud them. To do this, I need your help, so you will put aside whatever you are doing and begin by telling me your names and what your duties are. You first,” she said, indicating one of the clerks, a pale young man with unruly, dark hair.

  He stood up and said in a low voice, “Jeremiah Jones, ma'am, they call me Jerry; I keep the order books and send out the bills to the customers.”

  “Thank you, Mr Jones,” said Caroline and inclined her head towards his colleague, a somewhat older man, with a neat moustache and a well-pressed grey suit. He stood up but seemed so awkward in her presence; he looked down at his hands and mumbled when he spoke, so she could barely hear him. His name sounded like George Selby (she learned later it was Selbourne) and it was Jones who explained that Mr Selbourne prepared the documents on all the export orders for the shippers.

  He pointed to piles of files, neatly stacked in a cupboard behind him, as proof of his industry, no doubt.

  Finally, there was the elderly gentleman, who in both appearance and apparel looked more like a character from the previous century accidentally stranded in this one. He reluctantly admitted to being a Mr Perceval Adams, in charge of import accounts and bills of lading.

  Upon hearing this important piece of information, Caroline decided that Mr Adams was the most likely source of the problem. He, she thought, would surely know why the customs officers were after Mr Upton for fraud.

  Seating herself upon a high stool beside his desk, she began to ask questions about the reasons given for Upton's arrest and the existence of any evidence.

  “Did they say what fraud he was being accused of perpetrating?” she asked and while Mr Adams looked confused and took out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes once more, young Mr Jones stepped up to say that he had understood it had to do with a consignment of fine Chinese porcelain for which there had been no documents submitted.

  “They said, ma'am, there was only tea, spices, and cotton on the bill of lading, but they had found a large crate containing valuable chinaware.”

  Caroline turned to Mr Adams and asked, in a quiet voice, “Is this true, Mr Adams? Was not this one of your documents? Did you not prepare it?”

  The poor man could not speak, he seemed to be overcome with remorse or guilt or both at first; however, with further probing, it transpired that he had in fact made a serious error in preparing the documents for the customs and had obviously omitted the porcelain.

  “But why did you make no mention of this matter when the customs officers questioned Mr Upton?” Caroline asked, whereupon Adams broke down and moaned about it being all his fault, he was afraid they would arrest him too, he did not want to go to jail, and he thought Mr Gardiner would come and put it right again, as he always did.

  Caroline was furious but realised that anger would achieve nothing.

  It was important to get a message to Culver and Fitzwilliam and she decided to send young Jones after them with a brief note in which she explained that it had been an error, not a matter of fraud, and if they could bring Mr Upton back to the office, he would probably be able to straighten it all out.

  With Jones gone, there was only Mr Selbourne to help her and the blubbering Mr Adams.

  “Come now, gentlemen, we must find the documents so Mr Upton and his attorney can prove it was a genuine mistake. No doubt, there will be some fine to be paid, but that will be nothing to having poor Mr Upton locked up in jail for fraud.”

  She put Selbourne to work, going through the piles of papers on Adams' desk to track down the documents for the cargo of tea, spices, and cotton while she searched through the file on Mr Upton's desk for any evidence that might prove the porcelain was a legitimate part of the same consignment.

  After close to an hour of searching, punctuated by groans from Adams, Selbourne triumphantly produced the documents, checked them against the ship's papers, and declared them to be the right ones.

  Caroline was relieved. “Well done, Mr Selbourne, that is a good start,” she said.

  But how would they prove that the porcelain, which had not been included, had not been fraudulently imported? It was a most vexing problem.

  Recalling that Jones had told her it was his job to maintain a record of orders and send the customers their bills, she flew to his desk and, with Selbourne's help, located the filed documents, which held an itemised list of the valuable Chinese porcelain ordered by the Duke of Devonshire.

  “If only Mr Adams had included this list with the rest of the documents, there would have been no trouble at all, poor Mr Upton…” she said and as Adams groaned and moaned again, the door opened and Jeremiah Jones rushed in, followed by Fitzwilliam, Culver, and Mr Upton, looking very miserable indeed. But he did not remain so for long.

  On learning that the documents needed to prove his innocence had all been found, Upton's gratitude knew no bounds. He was an old and trusted employee and Caroline had never believed him to be capable of fraud. Now, they had the proof of his innocence.

  Over the next few hours and for most of the following day, the attorney, Mr Culver, and Fitzwilliam accompanied Mr Upton, as he went first to the Customs office and then to the Police and back to the Court House, where the documents proving he was innocent of the charge of fraud were produced before the magistrate. The requisite sum of money was then paid to the customs and the charge against Upton withdrawn.

  His relief was indescribable. He thanked both Fitzwilliam and Caroline repeatedly, telling her how much he owed
to her quick thinking and prompt action. Caroline was gratified indeed.

  On the day before they were to leave Manchester, with still no sign of Mr Gardiner, Fitzwilliam invited Mr Upton to dine with them. He arrived bearing a bunch of hothouse flowers for Caroline and made another speech expressing his undying appreciation of her efforts to save him from a fate much worse than death: the disgrace of being sent to jail at his age for fraud, ending thereby an impeccable career in commerce.

  As they were about to sit down to their meal, a vehicle drew up outside the house, and to their great delight, Mr Gardiner stepped out.

  Exhausted after having travelled with very little rest or refreshment since arriving from France, he was plied with food and drink, while being told that all was well.

  “I called at Pemberley, where Mr Darcy and Elizabeth passed on the scant information that Caroline had received before leaving for Manchester, and I set out immediately, expecting to find my chief clerk behind bars,” he explained and listened as they told the tale of the consignment of Chinese porcelain, the missing documents, and how the problem had been satisfactorily settled, so the Duke would have his valuable porcelain, which might otherwise have been confiscated by the customs, causing the business an enormous loss of both money and goodwill. Mr Upton was so grateful, he could barely speak without tripping over his words, which came thick and fast as he sang the praises of the lady who had saved the day.

  “Of one thing I am certain,” he said, “I and indeed all of us owe an enormous debt of gratitude to Mrs Fitzwilliam, without whom I may well have been behind bars today.”

  Mr Gardiner, when he had heard all the details, was almost speechless with surprise, but not so that he was unable to say how very proud he was of his daughter and to thank both Caroline and Colonel Fitzwilliam for their invaluable work.

  Caroline, though modestly claiming no special credit for herself, was secretly delighted. Her father's approval had always meant a great deal to her. To have satisfied his high standards was a very special achievement.

  When finally they retired to bed, Fitzwilliam was even more lavish with praise for his wife, of whom he was very proud indeed.

  “My dear Caroline, you were absolutely remarkable. I cannot wait to tell Darcy and Elizabeth what you accomplished here.”

  “Fitzy, you must not, I forbid it,” she protested.

  “And why should I not? There is no harm at all in their knowing how well you coped with a most difficult problem and with what tact and circumspection you involved the clerks at the office and had them working to discover the vital information that had Mr Upton freed. No, my love, I must tell them, it makes me very proud of you,” he insisted and even though she protested, she would not in the end deny that it had given her a great deal of satisfaction.

  “I am happy that I was able to do what had to be done to help Mr Upton and above all else to save Papa a great deal of money. Had the porcelain been confiscated, the Duke would have been furious, with justification, and poor Papa would have had to pay. As it is, everyone is happy,” she said. Her husband smiled.

  “It was very well done, my love,” he said and she put her arms around him in a show of affection that was as warm and spontaneous as he could remember.

  They returned to Derbyshire on the morrow, and during their journey, Caroline took up with her father the matter of organising the Manchester office.

  Mr Upton, she told him, was excellent as a chief clerk, but he was far too busy and needed a good assistant. The two young clerks, Jones and Selbourne, were promising but needed training and careful supervision. Again, Mr Upton was too busy to attend to them. As for Mr Adams, “Oh Papa, could he not be retired? He is too old and not able to cope at all,” she said.

  Mr Gardiner agreed, but confessed he felt sorry for the old man.

  “It would kill him, Caroline, he lives alone and has few friends; coming to the office each day keeps him alive. I will ask Mr Upton to give him some less taxing work. He is old and forgetful; there have been mistakes before, but none as grave as this one, I must admit.”

  Caroline, who had helped her father set up his office at Lambton when they had moved to Oakleigh Manor, knew something about managing one. She was keen to tell him how the Manchester office might be improved with better accommodation, adequate heating and lighting, well-trained staff, and some methodical routines.

  Mr Gardiner was pleased not only because Caroline was showing an interest in the family business and making a valuable contribution to its improvement.

  He was gratified by her interest and as her father, even happier because it meant she had finally climbed out of the well of despair and isolation that had imprisoned her for years after Edward's death.

  Caroline had come through the worst experience of her life with a new sense of purpose: working now for the people she loved and the ideas she believed in. She seemed eager to be involved and her father was pleased to support her in every possible way.

  Later, in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy, Mr Gardiner explained that he believed they could do with some changes at the Manchester office.

  “If Caroline can help bring something of a woman's skill for order and method into the running of an old-fashioned office, I think it can only improve the management of our business. I believe Upton in his present mood will welcome it and we should seize the moment,” he said.

  Mr Darcy concurred and a delighted Fitzwilliam agreed to take the proposal to his wife.

  He had no doubt it would be well received.

  THE ARRIVAL IN THE DISTRICT of a new family was always a matter of interest. When that family was reputed to be wealthy, the level of interest was usually enhanced; when it included not just one or two, but three particularly attractive young persons, the consequent attention that they excited among the general populace was bound to be quite phenomenal.

  This, then, was precisely the situation that came about in the district, when the news got around that Newland Hall was being let at last, having remained vacant ever since the demise of the last occupant, Mr John Newland, to a Mr Henderson, originally from Newcastle and lately from Jamaica. It was being said, by those who knew these matters, that Mr Henderson's origins were distinctly lowly, being the son of a tradesman in his hometown upon Tyne. However, having made a fortune in the Caribbean colonies, where sadly his first wife had died of a fever, he had apparently returned to England, remarried, and was said to be looking to purchase a suitable property in Derbyshire. The family had taken Newland Hall on a year's lease.

  Becky Tate brought the news when she met with Caroline, Cassandra, Emily, and the rector, Mr James Courtney, at the Kympton parish hall. She had learned that Mr Henderson had two very pretty daughters and his stepson was a gentleman of elegance and wit.

  “Upon his father's death, the boy was sent to live with relatives in Surrey, where he had benefited from the advantages of an excellent schooling as well as a full social life,” she told them. “I understand he is now attached to a firm of lawyers in London.”

  Of Mrs Henderson, however, she had heard only that she was a quiet, modest woman, who had been governess to the two girls for several years before she married their father.

  The ladies may have been interested in Becky's information, but the rector had other matters on his mind.

  Despite the protestations of the politicians, who attempted to cajole the populace into believing otherwise, all the signs pointed to the onset of a severe recession. In many of the “textile towns,” mills were either closing or halving their production, throwing thousands of workers literally onto the street. In Manchester and Liverpool, men and women, who lost their jobs each day, joined the hopeless queues of those who looked for work, while knowing there was none to be had.

  Back in the villages, as their fathers and mothers became unemployed and breadwinners returned home empty-handed, groups of women and a few benevolent men worked hard to care for the hapless children.

  James Courtney, who wa
s no stranger to the district, having previously spent some years of study in the area before he had been appointed to the parish of Kympton, was dedicated to the protection and education of the children of his parish.

  He had, from the outset, urged Caroline, Emily, and their group to do more than feed and clothe the children.

  “It is incumbent upon us to seize the opportunity to educate them; these are children whose parents would rather put them to work in the mills or the fields, where they may earn a few pence, than send them to school. They see no benefit to their families in schooling. Well, now that there is less work and what there is must go first to the adult workers; we have an opportunity like never before to introduce these children to learning. I have no doubt that some will find it boring and be off as soon as they see a chance, but others will stay and learn and in the future benefit from it,” he said.