Elizabeth was concerned for Emma. She worried that in London, Emma would have to bear the brunt of the exposure, when it came, as well as David’s anger.
Jonathan was more confident. “Aunt Lizzie, I am quite certain that as soon as Mama knows, she will want to go to London to be with Emma. She will not be alone—both James Wilson and his mother will protect her once the truth is known.”
Darcy wondered whether they did not owe Mr James Wilson and his mother some consideration too. “Should they not be advised? After all, neither of them is responsible in any way for David Wilson’s actions, but they will have to face the consequences of this wretched business.”
“Sage counsel, Darcy. How right you are,” said Fitzwilliam. “I will see James Wilson first and acquaint him with the facts. He has the right to know, and no doubt he will want to advise his mother.”
Anthony Tate gave his word that nothing would be published that would damage the rest of the Wilson family—nor would he publish any of the material relating to David’s activities—until after Fitzwilliam had spoken with James Wilson and Emma had been advised.
Returning to Pemberley that night, Darcy and Elizabeth retired to their apartments. They had not discussed the matter in the carriage, and Elizabeth waited until her maid had withdrawn before saying, “Would it not be akin to blackmail?”
Darcy knew exactly what she meant. “No, Fitzwilliam and Jonathan would never be involved in that. However, Wilson may feel that he is being threatened with exposure. Unfortunately for him, there is very little he can do about it. Tate can use his newspapers to unleash an attack upon him and since Wilson has probably antagonised so many people in Parliament, he will have very few friends willing to defend him.”
“Poor Emma, I wonder how many friends will she have to support her,” Elizabeth sighed as she prepared for bed.
Several hours later, unable to sleep, she crept out of bed and, lighting a candle, moved to a sofa at the other end of the room, so as not to disturb her husband. Her mind was constantly turning over ideas and images—images of Jane, Emma, and her two daughters, for whom she had the greatest love—and yet, she could do nothing to protect them from the disaster that was about to overwhelm their lives.
She lay awake for several hours until fatigue finally brought fitful sleep.
When Darcy awoke, it was not yet dawn. Missing his wife from their bed, he came in search of her. “Lizzie, what are you doing here?” he asked. “You are very cold and will make yourself ill.”
He wrapped her in a warm shawl and took her back to bed.
“I could not sleep—I kept thinking of Jane and Emma,” she confessed as he pulled the bedclothes up around her.
He was sympathetic but very firm. “Come now, dearest, we shall be going to Ashford Park later today. I intend to acquaint Bingley with everything I know, and you will have an opportunity to talk to Jane and decide what should be done to help Emma cope with the shock of this thing. There really is nothing we can possibly do at this hour,” he said reasonably.
Elizabeth, who had been turning a thought over in her mind, asked, “Do you recall a letter, some time ago, in which Jane expressed doubts that she deserved all the happiness she had in life?”
Darcy nodded, “Yes, but that was many years ago.”
“Well, when we lost William, I wondered, too, how one of us could remain untouched by tragedy while the other could be so desolated. I was almost envious of Jane and her comfortable, happy family. I never dreamed that something as dreadful as this would befall them. I feel so mean.” She was tearful and sad, illogically blaming herself. It was a long while before she was comforted and finally fell asleep.
The following morning was cold and grey. They had hardly finished breakfast when a man arrived from Ashford Park bearing a letter from Jane. Elizabeth, anxious, opened it hurriedly.
Jane had written in great haste, her writing almost illegible in parts. Elizabeth raced through it and then, with Darcy at her side, read it again.
My dearest Lizzie, wrote Jane:
I know that I may be asking too much, especially in this dreadful weather—but can I prevail upon you and Mr Darcy to come over this afternoon? You should be prepared to stay overnight, Bingley says the roads may be icy and unsafe at night.
Dear Lizzie, a very grave matter has arisen with regard to Emma and David.
We have had a letter from Emma which suggests that some sort of crisis is imminent. I am wild to go to her, but Bingley insists that I must talk it over with you and Mr Darcy before doing anything at all.
Please do come. I need your clear head and brave heart, my dearest sister, as well as your husband’s wise counsel.
Your loving sister etc…
A reply was dispatched forthwith, stating that Elizabeth and Darcy would be at Ashford Park that evening.
They had not, as yet, decided how much should be revealed to Jane and Bingley. Darcy expressed a preference for frankness. “I cannot believe that it will be possible to keep much of the information from them once the story breaks in London,” said Darcy.
“We are not even aware how much Emma knows already. No doubt her letter to Jane will reveal some of that, but I do not think she could possibly know very much about David Wilson’s other activities. He seems very secretive.”
Darcy declared that he thought it would be important to warn the Bingleys of the storms that might be brewing but not necessary to go into too much detail about Wilson’s private life at this stage.
When they arrived at Ashford, they were soon ushered from the cold into a warm sitting room replete with food, drink, and a comforting fire.
After the tea things were removed and the servants had withdrawn, Jane brought out her daughter’s letter. Elizabeth read it first. Emma had obviously been under great strain when it was written, for her hand had been unsteady and her writing, usually perfectly rounded and neat, was all shaky and difficult to read.
Dearest Mama and Papa, she wrote:
Something rather awful has happened and I don’t quite know how to tell you.
Strange as it may seem, David, my husband, has disappeared, and we do not know what has happened to him.
He has not been seen since last Sunday.
I know that this sounds childish and silly, but please believe me: it is serious. His mother is very upset because no one has been able to tell us where he might be. James is doing all he can to find him, but so far with very little success.
I have to be careful not to upset Victoria and Stephanie, for they may be frightened, and if the servants find out, there will be all sorts of gossip.
Dear Mama, I may need you to take the children for a few days until we have some news.
Please let me know if you are able to help. I do hope I am not interfering with any other plans you might have had.
Mama, I wish with all my heart that I was with you and Papa at Ashford Park, but for the moment, I think I must stay with Mrs Wilson.
I shall write again as soon as we have any news, though we are fearful of what we may hear!
Your loving daughter,
Emma.
So bewildering were its contents, Elizabeth could not take it all in. She handed it to Darcy, who read it with Bingley standing beside him.
Watching them, Elizabeth thought she had never seen Bingley look so unhappy. He hovered around until Darcy had finished reading, and when he looked up and shook his head in complete confusion, Bingley said, “Can you understand it Darcy? Why has David Wilson disappeared?”
It was a question to which they all wanted an answer. Darcy certainly had no idea. It had thrown a completely unforeseen ingredient into an already confused situation. The mystery cast a shadow of doubt over their deliberations, creating more suspicion.
Darcy was cautious when he spoke. “I cannot imagine why he has disappeared, unless he has already got
wind of something that was about to happen to him,” he said.
“Do you think he could have gone into hiding?” Elizabeth asked.
Jane was confounded. “Why would he do that? I know he has not been very good to Emma, but that is not a reason to go into hiding, is it?” she asked.
Elizabeth glanced at her husband. It was time for her to take Jane upstairs and talk to her about some of the problems David Wilson and his family were likely to face. Darcy would probably sit down with her brother-in-law in the library and tell him all he knew. It would not be easy. Neither of them felt comfortable about telling two people they loved dearly the worst news they were likely to hear in their lives.
As Elizabeth told her the facts as she had them from Jonathan, Amelia, Rebecca, and Anthony Tate, Jane, at first quiet and even disbelieving, became extremely agitated and finally wept bitterly. Elizabeth held her sister, comforting her. Their thoughts were all of Emma.
“My poor, dear Emma! Oh, Lizzie, how is it possible for her, for all of us to have been mistaken and so badly deceived? I know I have said that I preferred his brother James, but that had nothing to do with his character—it was merely my own preference for the disposition and manners of his brother,” she said, unable to accept that the world had treated her beautiful, gentle daughter so unfairly.
Elizabeth was searching her mind for some words of comfort when the sound of a carriage drew them to the window. “Who could that be? We are not expecting anyone else,” said Jane.
Looking out, they were just able to see Emma being helped out by James Wilson, who then picked up young Victoria and Stephanie and set them down. As they disappeared indoors, their nurse alighted, weighed under with coats and bags.
By this time, Jane and Elizabeth, speechless with surprise at first, looked at one another in bewilderment, then rushed out of the room and down the stairs. When they reached the sitting room, Emma was in her father’s arms, while the two little girls were already helping themselves to cakes, oblivious of the adults around them.
As they entered, Mr Wilson, who was speaking earnestly to Darcy, turned and came forward to greet them, his face grave.
“Mrs Bingley, Mrs Darcy, forgive me for this untimely arrival, but as I was explaining to Mr Darcy, we are in the midst of a most unsettling situation. I do beg your pardon for not giving you any warning…” But Jane, delighted to have her daughter right there in front of her, simply dismissed his apologies as she enfolded Emma in her arms.
James Wilson approached Elizabeth and Darcy, standing a little apart from the Bingleys’ tearful reunion. “Mrs Darcy, I have had some extraordinary news today concerning my brother David, and I had to make a hurried decision in the interests of Emma and the children: to get them out of London,” he explained.
While Jane took Emma and her daughters upstairs, James Wilson briefly related the events that had led to his decision.
David had mysteriously disappeared, and after several days of enquiries, James had discovered that he was concealed at a friend’s house in Richmond. It transpired that he, having defected from his party and being deeply in debt through gambling, had been threatened with exposure in the press.
“Regrettably, I have to inform you, Mr Bingley, that David’s conduct has been thoroughly dishonourable. I will not burden you with what I have discovered at this stage, but suffice it to say that he has proved himself quite unworthy of your daughter as well as the trust of his colleagues. He has also caused untold distress to my poor mother and myself. I am well aware that Emma has borne a great deal of privation and harassment with saint-like patience, and it was in her interest, chiefly, that my mother and I felt that she and the children should come to you.”
He was at pains to make his own attitude clear. “Should there be some kind of scandal, a public or Parliamentary excoriation of David, which he may well deserve in the light of his behaviour, it would not have been fair that Emma and her children should be at the centre of it all in London, innocent victims of his dishonour and disgrace.”
Darcy and Elizabeth agreed at once that James had done the right thing, and Bingley was so appreciative of the fact that James had brought his beloved Emma home that he needed to hear no more. “I cannot say how grateful we are to you, Mr Wilson. You could not have done anything that would have pleased us more,” he said. “Now, do sit down by the fire and let me get you a drink, for I am sure you are chilled to the bone.”
Afterwards, they were determined that he stay to dinner, and when James rose to leave, Bingley intervened once more to persuade him that it would be most unwise to venture out at such a late hour.
It was of no use to declare that he had reserved rooms at the inn—at Ashfordby—Bingley would not hear of his travelling in this weather.
Emma, who had changed and joined them at dinner, looking a little weary but obviously happy to be home, added her voice to her father’s. “Papa is quite right, James, you must not go—not in this weather. Should you have an accident, whom would we turn to then? What is more, it is surely far kinder to your driver and the horses, too.”
She was so persuasive that James Wilson simply shrugged his shoulders and gave in, saying, “I cannot deny that the prospect of a warm bed at Ashford Park is far more enticing than the thought of another journey of some ten miles to Ashfordby. I thank you very much indeed, and I hope I have not put you to too much trouble, Mrs Bingley.”
Having been assured that he had not, he was, however, determined to be up and ready to leave very early the following day.
Therefore, he took his leave of the ladies before they retired, remarking that he did not expect to see them at such an early hour.
Jane and Elizabeth could not fail to be impressed by the remarkable dignity and sincerity of James Wilson, who continued to be distinguished from his brother by his unimpeachable conduct. Emma had already regaled her mother and aunt with tales of his kindness and concern for her and the children.
Before Emma retired for the evening, she thanked him with great sweetness, sending compliments to his mother and wishing him a safe journey on the morrow.
James promised to return as soon as he had some better news. “I know you are going to be safe and happy here,” he said. “God bless you, Emma, and keep you well.”
Meanwhile, Fitzwilliam, Anthony Tate, and Jonathan had spent three days in London, before they discovered that David Wilson had gone into hiding and was unlikely to see them. Fitzwilliam had confirmed through his source in Parliament that the Whigs no longer relied upon him for his vote, which they regarded as having been sold to their opponents. He had heard from contacts in the city that David Wilson had been abandoned by most of his friends.
Only when he met James Wilson, to acquaint him with their intention to confront his brother, did he discover that the Wilson family had already dealt with their black sheep in their own way. All that was left now was for him to bear the public disgrace. James was certainly not about to protect him from it.
***
At Ashford Park, Emma and her daughters settled in as if they were never going back. Her parents were delighted to have her home in time for Christmas. Other members of the family who called to see her were happy to find her looking so well, for indeed, Emma had recovered her spirits remarkably since her return to Leicestershire.
Apart from the few who were aware of the crisis she had been through, none guessed the true reason for her flight from London.
Despite her continuing anxiety, Emma found it easy to immerse herself in the traditional preparations for Christmas at her parents’ home, where the warmth and affection that surrounded them gave her a welcome sense of security. Like her mother, she seemed content to enjoy her present situation.
Unfortunately, reality could not be denied.
It was less than a month to Christmas when Jonathan arrived bearing the news. David Wilson was dead. He had shot himself.
&nb
sp; The shocking news had taken some time to reach them because Parliament was not sitting and the weather had been dreadful, making communication difficult, he said. It seemed Wilson had been unable or unwilling to face the scandal of exposure that was certain to engulf him as soon as Parliament returned.
A short note to his mother asking her forgiveness and apologising to his wife, his brother, and his daughters for “letting them down” was all he had left, apart from a load of debt to be discharged by his unhappy family.
Jonathan, as his brother-in-law, had accompanied James Wilson to the formal inquiry into the death and was able to report that there had been no suspicion whatsoever of foul play. “He had taken dinner and retired to his room with a bottle of wine, around midnight. He did not usually rise early, so there was no alarm raised when he did not appear at breakfast.
“However, when the chamber maid had drawn the housekeeper’s attention to the fact that she had not been able to clean the room all day, suspicions were aroused and the door forced open,” he explained.
Jane and Elizabeth were amazed at the calmness with which Emma received the news.
No one who had not known the extent of her suffering, in what had become a loveless and often frightening marriage, would have understood her response. She appeared to feel nothing but relief, saying little except to express her sympathy for Mrs Wilson and James, who she knew would bear the brunt of public exposure. Her own feelings had been numbed by years of abuse and indifference.
There were no tears, except when she had to tell the children of their papa’s death, and no deep mourning except as a formality and in deference to her mother-in-law.
Conscious, however, of her duty, she set out immediately, with her parents and Jonathan for London, where she went directly to the house in Mayfair.
She conducted herself with grace and decorum at the funeral and afterwards was determined to repay the kindness of her mother-in-law by being there to support her at what was surely a time of great distress. In all this, she was assisted by her brother Jonathan and by James Wilson, who could not help but admire her courage and sensitivity.
The Women of Pemberley Page 7
