You could and should put all this to right with a single letter. I know that Josie was not very keen for it to be widely known too early, but I am sure she will understand that, whatever her reservations, Mama’s feelings must be assuaged as soon as possible.
Dear Julian, I know you will feel the same and act accordingly.
When Richard returned home, she told him the day’s news and was surprised that he expressed no great astonishment. Indeed, he completely endorsed her actions. She asked him if she had been too precipitate; could Julian feel she had no right to ask him to do one thing or another? But, he was entirely in agreement with her.
“No, my dearest, you have done exactly the right thing. I never did think all this secrecy was necessary, anyway, but since it was what they wanted, I know you had to respect their wishes. However, in these matters, it is far preferable to be open and direct rather than employ subterfuge and secrecy; they generally lead to confusion and create situations one cannot control. No doubt the servants of the Tate household, who would have had more than an inkling of the progress of this romance, have been gossiping in the village,” he said, smiling.
Cassy nodded, her face grave. “Indeed, you are probably right. I believe Mrs Tate’s housekeeper has two daughters employed as housemaids at Pemberley. It is also possible that Mrs Tate has been unable to resist the temptation to boast of her daughter’s prospects of becoming the Mistress of Pemberley at some future date to some of her friends. Whichever it was, it has caused poor Mama some grief. I feel I should have advised my brother to be more open with my parents.”
Her husband laughed and put a comforting arm around her, reassuring her that she was not in any way responsible for her parents’ distress. “You have done your part, Cassy. Your parents know you too well to lay any blame upon you. I agree with your father; there is no need to apportion blame, only to ensure the damage is undone quickly and the hurt will soon heal,” he said. “Josie is an intelligent and agreeable young woman. I have no doubt this minor lapse will soon be forgotten.”
He was confident everything would turn out well. Cassy was comforted, as she always was, by his strength and sound common sense.
One morning, not more than a week after Cassandra had written to her brother, Darcy and Elizabeth were discussing plans to travel to Ashford Park to join the Bingleys, who were celebrating the engagement of their daughter Louisa to Matthew Ward, when their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of an express addressed to Elizabeth. She recognised the hand immediately. “It’s from Julian,” she said, smiling, and Darcy knew even before she opened it that Cassandra had done as she had promised she would.
Opening the letter, Elizabeth ran her eyes over it very quickly, as she was wont to do, and, smiling happily, began to read it to her husband.
“He writes from Cambridge:
Dearest Mama,
Let me first apologise for the lateness of this letter and the delay in giving you the news it contains. However, since it is pleasant news, I hope there is no harm done.
I should have written you directly, but on arriving in Cambridge, I found my friend and colleague, Daniel Pearce, very sick with a fever he picked up in Africa. He is a good deal better now, but is still weak and needs medication and care.
However, I now have some time to myself and am writing to give you and Papa an important piece of personal news. I do not believe that you are going to be very surprised by what I have to say, as I am sure you have already anticipated my feelings in this matter.
Mama, the news is that I have, with her father’s blessing, asked Miss Josie Tate to marry me. I have loved her for several months now and felt it was time to present my credentials, lest I be outwitted by some more assertive suitor.
Josie, who is keen to pursue a career as a writer—not a novelist, but a writer of serious prose—was at first reluctant to agree to an early engagement. She has now consented, and we are to be engaged soon—within a few months, at any rate.
Her father, whom I saw before I left Derbyshire for Cambridge, was exceedingly kind and complimentary, and has given me permission to call on Josie when she is in London with her Aunt Beatrice.
Josie assures me that Mrs Tate, whom she has informed, is very pleased, too, which is good also.
Mama, I would have told you all of this sooner, but for two reasons: The first being Josie’s desire to keep it secret until she had obtained her mother’s permission to come up to London, and the second, for which I sincerely hope you will forgive me, being my earnest desire to arrange my affairs in my own right, rather than as the heir to the Pemberley Estate.
Pray do not misunderstand me. I have nothing but pride in my heritage and love Pemberley, as you well know, but there are times when one needs must stand on one’s own, and I felt this was just such an occasion.
Now that Josie has permission to come up to London, I am able to tell you about it, as I always wished to do. If this delay has in any way embarrassed you or hurt your feelings, I do apologise with all my heart. Mama, I know that on receiving this you will want to call on Josie. Please remember she is very young and is very much in awe of you and Papa. She may be nervous, and I hope you will overlook any awkwardness on her part. I do love her very much.
I look forward to our being together when I come down for the mid-Summer break.
Your loving son,
Julian.
Elizabeth’s pleasure at receiving Julian’s letter was so great it could not be easily contained. Nothing would satisfy her but that she go directly to call on Josie Tate and her parents. She felt she had to acknowledge her son’s decision and demonstrate her acceptance of Josie as his choice.
“I cannot have Josie believing that we disapprove of Julian’s choice for some unexplained reason, which can ultimately be based only upon prejudice,” she said and, recalling Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s discourteous and pompous visit to Longbourn all those years ago, Elizabeth was particular not to present herself in like manner to the Tates.
Thus, while the best carriage was being made ready for the journey to Ashford Park, Elizabeth drove over in a smaller vehicle, hoping to find at least Rebecca and Josie at home.
On arriving at the house, she was disappointed to hear that Mr and Mrs Tate were both gone to Derby and were likely to be away all day.
She was about to ask if Miss Josie Tate was at home when young Josie, having seen Mrs Darcy arrive, came running downstairs to greet her as she stood in the hall. “Mrs Darcy!” she exclaimed, in some confusion at having to entertain her future mother-in-law with no notice at all.
Not standing upon ceremony and conscious of the awkwardness of Josie’s situation, Elizabeth went to her directly and greeted her with warmth and affection. “My dear Josie, I apologise for arriving without warning, but I was hoping to see your parents. I am sorry to have missed them, but I am very happy to find you at home.”
Seeing Josie’s apprehensive expression, she moved swiftly to reassure her and kissed her on the cheek before following her into the parlour. Josie invited Elizabeth to be seated and ordered tea, which they took beside a window that offered a view of the rose garden in bloom, which drew immediate admiration from Elizabeth.
“The rose garden was almost entirely my dear grandmother’s work,” Josie explained, and Elizabeth remembered that Anthony Tate’s mother, Therese, had been famous for her prize-winning roses as well as her excellent management of his newspapers until her death a few years ago.
As they talked, Josie seemed more at ease. Elizabeth recalled vividly the indignation she had felt after Lady Catherine’s visit to Longbourn, when she had criticised the room and ungraciously refused any refreshment before proceeding to quiz her about Mr Darcy. He had subsequently apologised for his aunt’s discourteous conduct. Elizabeth had no desire to subject young Josie to a similar ordeal. Her tone was gentle as she said, “Josie, I have only today received a letter
from Julian informing us of your secret engagement, and I have come to tell you how very happy we are—Mr Darcy and I—for both of you.”
Josie’s expression changed in an instant to one of delight as a smile transformed her anxious expression. She had feared that the arrival of Mrs Darcy might have meant an inquisitorial interview. Nothing was further from the truth.
Writing later to Julian, she described the encounter:
My dearest Julian,
I was, this morning, sitting at my bedroom window looking out over the park when, to my great surprise, a carriage drew up and your dear mother alighted.
I was not merely surprised that she had condescended to call on me, but also at how cordial and kind she was. No, indeed, she was truly affectionate—cordial is too cold a word for the warmth and sincerity of her words and manner. Having only met Mrs Darcy along with others in my family before today, I was naturally a little apprehensive, especially since with Papa and Mama away, I had to entertain her myself.
Your mother is so elegant and handsome that I have always been in awe of her, but it seems I was needlessly anxious, for she was friendliness itself.
And so she proceeded for another two pages or more.
Elizabeth, having reassured her future daughter-in-law, left asking that her compliments be conveyed to Mr and Mrs Tate. She promised that, on Julian’s return, they would all dine together at Pemberley.
There was just one thing she had asked Josie to consider. “Josie, my dear, if you are going to be staying in London for any length of time, and if you and Julian intend to meet and be seen around town, would it not be more seemly if you became formally engaged? While a secret engagement is undoubtedly romantic, there is sound common sense in the argument that a clear indication of your intentions will protect you from malicious gossip.”
It was an argument whose validity Josie could not deny.
***
Later that day, as they journeyed at a leisurely pace to Ashford Park, Elizabeth told Darcy of her meeting with Josie, and the parallel with Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s visit to Longbourn was irresistible. Though it had happened many years ago, it had remained a matter of much hilarity in their close circle of family and friends. Elizabeth had been often urged to provide a dramatic recital of the encounter between herself and Lady Catherine, and, having ascertained that her husband would not be offended, she would occasionally oblige.
Darcy had decided that on this occasion, she would be teased. “And Lizzie, do you think young Miss Tate was as puzzled by your arrival as you were by the appearance of Lady Catherine at Longbourn?” he asked so casually that she did not immediately suspect his intention.
“No, indeed,” she answered. “She may have been slightly nervous, perhaps, but I believe she coped very well; if she was daunted, she did not show it, and it was certainly not my intention to alarm or intimidate her.”
“As my aunt was trying to do to you?” he remarked lightly.
Catching the mischief in his tone, she retorted, “Oh, please, you are surely not suggesting that I was trying to browbeat young Josie? I have neither the desire nor the inclination to do such a thing.”
She sounded quite put out; he relented and, smiling broadly, let her see that he was teasing her, when he said, “No more than I would suggest that Miss Tate would allow herself to be put upon. She appears to be a sensible young woman with a mind of her own, well able to look after herself, even at nineteen. Not unlike another woman of my acquaintance, who is the only person I know undaunted by Lady Catherine’s sense of self-importance, who was able to tell her to mind her own business!”
This time they both laughed, enjoying the memory, before acknowledging that they did owe some of their happiness to Lady Catherine’s interference. “Indeed, had she not driven directly to London, in high dudgeon, to confront me with your defiance, I may never have realised there was still hope for me,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Dear Lizzie, I had not dreamed that I would ever be grateful to my aunt for any measure of my happiness.”
“Nor I,” said his wife. “When I first made her acquaintance at Rosings, it was the very last thing I would have anticipated; but, if the truth were told, she has contributed, however unwittingly, quite significantly to it.”
This was sufficient to start them talking of times past—of the difficult and sad times, the many good times they had known and how their lives had changed over the years. It was a favourite pastime and kept them occupied until the carriage took the fork in the road to Ashford Park.
Jane and Charles Bingley remained, along with the Gardiners, their most favourite companions. The two sisters were as close as ever, and between Darcy and Charles there was a strong friendship based upon trust and regard, nurtured over many years. There was no place they visited with greater pleasure.
That evening, the family gathered for a celebratory dinner party on the occasion of the engagement of Louisa Bingley to Doctor Matthew Ward. A bigger function had at first been planned, but then had been abandoned upon the untimely death of Mr Ward’s mother a month ago. Indeed, Louisa had asked him if he would prefer to postpone the engagement, but the bereft young man had said no, whereupon the Bingleys, with their usual good taste and discretion, suggested a modest family gathering. Not wishing to disappoint his daughter, her father had said, “You shall have a ball later, Louisa, before your wedding in the Spring.”
But Louisa, who resembled her mother more in her nature than in looks, had replied gently, “Papa, it matters little to me if we have a ball or not. I am most anxious to ensure that Matthew and his father are made really welcome in our family. They both miss Mrs Ward terribly.”
It was generally agreed that this could be best achieved at an intimate dinner party for their closest friends and family. On hearing this piece of information, Elizabeth had remarked that young women appeared to be growing more sensible by the day. The Bingley girls, like Josie Tate and Caroline Fitzwilliam’s daughter, Amy, were a far cry from the feckless, silly creatures who had been the bane of Meryton society when they were growing up. Memories of the youthful follies of their own younger sisters, Kitty and Lydia, were quickly dispatched with a shudder as being too painful to contemplate.
After most of the guests had departed, Darcy and Bingley retired to the games room to renew their interest in a frame of billiards and discuss the current political situation, while Jane and Elizabeth went upstairs to enjoy a cup of tea together. It was their favourite way to end a long day.
Both sisters had plenty to talk about. Jane had good and bad news to give. Sophie was expecting her first child, and Amelia-Jane was soon to be delivered of her fourth. Elizabeth noted with a smile that nothing seemed to please her dear sister more than new additions to her growing family! “They are all such sweet, good children, for the most part, Lizzie,” Jane declared, but Elizabeth was not altogether deceived. She had heard that an indulgent grandmother had rather ruined Jonathan and Amelia-Jane’s little boy, but then, what were grandparents for, she argued, if, having raised their own children in an exemplary manner, they were not to be permitted to spoil their grandchildren!
The bad news came in the form of an unwelcome report from Lydia, who had informed Jane that her two eldest sons, Henry and Philip, had joined the Volunteers, which had replaced the Militia in which their father had served when he had first become acquainted with the Bennet family. “They are to be stationed just outside London, she says. Lizzie, I cannot imagine that they will do very much more than strut around in uniform. Lydia claims that there is some new threat from France, but Bingley and Jonathan are convinced it is a lot of nonsense,” said Jane, dismissing the threat from France.
Elizabeth was less sanguine. “I am a good deal more concerned about the threat of the Wickhams loose in London society, Jane,” she declared. “I must tell Darcy he should advise Julian to avoid them at all costs. The Wickhams have always been trouble, and I would mu
ch rather Julian had nothing to do with them. He is so amiable and unsuspicious and could quite easily be taken in.”
Jane agreed, reminding her sister of the problems of their cousin, Robert Gardiner, who had been deceived by his fine friends in an episode that had caused a great deal of pain to his parents. “I am sure Julian will never be so deceived, Lizzie,” said Jane, “but it will be well for him to be forewarned.”
Speaking of Julian brought Elizabeth to the big news of the moment. Taking out the letter she had received from her son only that morning, she put it in Jane’s hands without comment. Settling back to enjoy her tea, she expected to hear cries of astonishment, but, amazingly, Jane read it right through and handed it back with a smile, saying, “Such a sweet letter, Lizzie, so sincere and honest. You are truly fortunate in your son.”
Elizabeth was bemused. This generous praise for his style was all very well, but was she not going to remark upon the content of the letter? Before she could say anything, however, Jane poured herself a cup of tea and said gently, “Bingley and I have wondered when you and Mr Darcy were going to tell us. We were afraid you may have disapproved of the match and were therefore unwilling to give the young couple your blessing.”
Elizabeth was completely confounded by her sister’s remark. “What do you mean? Now, Jane, tell me—have you known of this romance for all of this time?” she asked, her voice betraying her astonishment.
Jane smiled and nodded. She did not mean to gloat; it was not in her nature to do so. She was almost apologetic as she explained, “Dear Lizzie, you must not be angry. Remember only that Amelia-Jane is Josie’s aunt. She spent a fortnight with the Tates in Spring, when Jonathan was in Europe on business, and noticed that Julian visited Josie almost every day. To her mind it had seemed they were already engaged, so openly were their affections expressed. Were you not aware of this at the time?”
The Women of Pemberley Page 30
