“No, indeed,” said her sister, understanding more fully now how the news of the couple’s romance must have become common knowledge. That Jane and Bingley and Jonathan and Amelia-Jane had all known before Darcy and herself was perplexing, even hurtful. She was, however, even more grateful now for Julian’s letter. It would have been humiliating to be in ignorance and have no word from their son.
When Darcy and Bingley came upstairs, and they retired to their rooms for the night, Elizabeth told her husband of Jane’s remarks. Darcy’s response was lighthearted. “There, you see, Lizzie, it is always good to be well armed with information when one travels from home, even if it is about one’s own children. Now that’s out of the way, we can concentrate on worrying about their future happiness.”
As if on cue, she asked, “Can you be sure they will be happy? They are both still very young.”
Darcy refused to be anxious, “Their youth need not preclude them from making sensible choices, especially since they have known one another all their lives.”
Seeing some uncertainty in her eyes, he sought to reassure her. “Lizzie, my dear, they are both obviously in love. Julian will not have made a foolish choice. He has far too much good sense. And from a purely practical point of view, it is certainly not an imprudent match for either of them. As for Josie, I believe that she, even more than her mother, has inherited much of your friend Charlotte’s sound common sense. We know, from Julian’s letter, that she is keen to become a serious writer. This does not suggest that she is some frivolous young woman unworthy of our son, but rather a thoughtful and sensible one with a mind of her own. I think we can confidently leave their happiness in their own hands, do you not, my dear?”
Elizabeth was easily persuaded that he was right to have confidence in their son’s ability to make the right choice of partner. There was no reason why he and Josie should not be happy together. Neither Pride nor Prejudice would have any part in it.
***
A day or two later, Mr and Mrs Tate, having regard to the fact that Elizabeth had called on them and missed them, returned the courtesy and travelled to Pemberley to wait on Mr and Mrs Darcy.
This acknowledgement of the engagement of their children’s affections was the first stage of the establishment of a closer connection between their families. Mr Darcy had known Anthony Tate all his life, first as the young son of a good neighbour and later as an influential publisher, while Becky Collins, as her friend Charlotte’s daughter, had been no stranger to Elizabeth. Though the families had not been particularly close, there had been no lack of mutual respect, and their children had always been friends. Cassandra and Richard had been grateful for the Tates’ support in their campaign to establish the hospital at Matlock and their support for a number of community causes.
The Tates were a good deal closer to Fitzwilliam and Caroline, whose political activities had brought them together, and Becky was Emily Courtney’s trusted friend. Since they would in time be relations as well as friends, it was quite natural that Darcy and Elizabeth sought to establish a closer association between them.
Josie, who had by now heard from Julian that he had written to his mother explaining everything, accompanied them, but was singularly quiet, while her parents, having got the formalities out of the way, seemed quite at ease.
After tea, Elizabeth, concerned at Josie’s reticence, offered to show her the new suite of rooms that had been recently redecorated for Julian.
“The rooms used to be Georgiana’s. As you can see, they are in a quiet part of the house with a pretty view of the park and the woods beyond,” she explained, adding that she had had them refurbished for Julian for his twenty-first birthday.
Josie was impressed, admiring the tasteful colours and elegant furniture, as well as the charming prospect across the park.
“It means he will have a new suite of rooms when he returns from Cambridge,” said Elizabeth.
Josie, while admiring everything about the rooms, still seemed nervous. Elizabeth wondered what she could do or say to put her at ease. Suddenly, without any prompting or provocation, Josie spoke.
“Mrs Darcy,” she said, still somewhat hesitant, “there is something I wish to say … something I want you to know before I go to London … please let me say how truly sorry I am that you were embarrassed by the delay in our telling you of our engagement … Julian is not to blame; it was my fault. I wanted to keep it secret for a while only because I just was not certain it was really going to happen.”
Elizabeth seemed perplexed. “Why, Josie? Were you unsure of your feelings? I cannot believe that you doubted Julian’s intentions,” she said.
“Oh, no, but I could not quite believe it was really happening. You see, I think I have been in love with Julian for a very long time, but I never dreamed that he would return my affection—not to the extent of marrying me, anyway. You see, Mrs Darcy, there was always Pemberley in the way, I certainly never presumed to be the Mistress of Pemberley. I always assumed that Julian would marry either his cousin Louisa or Amy Fitzwilliam, who were the two most beautiful and eligible girls in the district,” she said, and Elizabeth smiled, amused at her words.
“Julian has always been a good friend; when he visited me while I was recovering from my illness, I assumed he was being kind, as usual. I was completely astonished when he proposed, and indeed, I told him that I did not think I could ever be Mistress of Pemberley.”
“Why ever not?” asked Elizabeth, who understood Josie’s qualms but was anxious to reassure her.
“Because I am not accustomed to great houses like Chatsworth and Pemberley and all the finery that goes with them,” she replied. “Growing up in Matlock, between these two great estates, I always regarded them as beautiful, historic places I loved visiting; but I never contemplated living in one.”
“Neither had I, Josie,” said Elizabeth, gently interrupting her. “Longbourn, where I grew up, was every bit as modest as your family’s property in Matlock, with even less to recommend it in terms of scenic beauty. We were an unpretentious family, as Mrs Collins, your grandmother, will tell you, with far less fortune than you could expect to inherit, and believe me, Josie, I was just as surprised when Mr Darcy proposed to me,” she explained.
Josie, astonished, could hardly believe that the elegant and handsome Mrs Darcy, who always looked every inch the Mistress of Pemberley, could ever have had similar reservations.
Elizabeth continued, “In any event, Josie, you shall, God willing, have many, many years to prepare for it. Mr Darcy is very fit and well, and likely to remain so. Meanwhile, as you can see, we do not stand on ceremony at Pemberley.”
Josie, who had started to smile and relax, said quickly, “That was exactly what Julian said,” and they laughed together as they went downstairs to join the others, stopping only to let Josie admire the new portraits of Cassandra’s children, which adorned the wall opposite.
“Perhaps the most wonderful part of all this is that Cassy will be my sister. I shall love that. I have never known the joy of having a sister,” Josie said wistfully, causing Elizabeth to recall another time, when a young woman had said something similar.
The memory of her first meeting with Georgiana Darcy brought an indulgent smile to her lips; they had become good friends and remained as close as two sisters could be. “A sister’s love is very special,” she said as they descended the stairs.
Looking up, Darcy saw them laughing together; Josie’s parents, following his gaze, saw the change in the nervous young woman who had reluctantly accompanied them to Pemberley. Quite clearly, Elizabeth had put her at ease.
A week later, Josie came to Pemberley, alone, to say farewell before leaving for London. This time, she was far more composed than before and spent a very pleasant afternoon with Elizabeth. Discreetly, Elizabeth avoided pressing her young guest regarding their plans and instead allowed Josie to see as much of the house and i
ts environs as she wished to, without in any way wanting to overawe her.
Josie, who had not been through the private areas of the house before, could not help but admire the light, spacious rooms, elegant furniture, and the splendid works of art. Later, as they took afternoon tea together, she made it clear that she thought Pemberley was quite the most handsome house she had ever seen and she would be very honoured to be part of its great family.
As she rose to take her leave, Elizabeth placed in her hands a little velvet box.
“Give it to Julian; he is expecting it. It used to belong to his grandmother, Lady Anne Darcy. I have written to him and suggested that he place it on your finger at the earliest opportunity,” she said.
Josie begged to be allowed to open the box, and when she did so, there lay within it a fine gold ring set with a perfect diamond. Exclaiming at its beauty, she impulsively embraced and kissed Elizabeth, thanking her for her kindness and promising to write as soon as she reached London.
***
Josie arrived in London, accompanied by her father, who had business in the city. They went at once to her aunt’s house in the area of Regent’s Park.
Julian had been informed of the time and date of their arrival; consequently, they had very little time to wait before he arrived, having travelled overnight from Cambridge. Mr Tate introduced him to his sister, Miss Beatrice Tate, and he was immediately invited to stay to dinner.
Later, Mr Tate left to keep his appointment in the city, and Josie’s aunt declared that she was going upstairs to “curl up on the sofa with a book.” This left the young couple to their own devices, and they decided that the excellent weather deserved to be celebrated with a walk in the park.
A few hours later, they returned looking exceedingly happy, and Lady Anne Darcy’s ring had been felicitously transferred from its velvet box onto the appropriate finger of Josie’s left hand. Both Mr Tate and Josie’s aunt Beatrice admired the exquisite ring and declared that a celebration was definitely in order.
Anthony Tate had been too busy to notice that his beloved daughter and Julian Darcy were falling in love. However, now that it was all settled and they were engaged, he was very pleased indeed and played the role of the father of the bride to perfection.
Julian and Josie found themselves in London at a time of remarkable political change. Lord Palmerston, who had only the previous year won a great election victory following the successful end of the Crimean War, was defeated in Parliament and resigned, bringing to power the very conservative Lord Derby.
The sense of disappointment among the Reformists was almost palpable. Palmerston had been a Reformer, however reluctant, pressured by Russell and others to proceed with the changes that the people demanded. With Lord Derby leading a minority Conservative government, there were no such expectations.
Josie wrote to her parents:
A great groan has gone up all around London. No one seriously expects Lord Derby to bring about any further reform to help ordinary people.
We were invited by James and Emma Wilson to dine at their town house in Grosvenor Street and afterwards, repaired to the Commons to listen to the speeches. They were terribly dull and boring. James Wilson is very disappointed that the Conservatives are back, especially with Derby, who he says, only remains in power because the Opposition is so disunited.
Josie knew her father was vehemently opposed to the Conservatives and sought to cheer him up:
Papa, I know you will be exceedingly pleased to hear that James and many of his Parliamentary colleagues do not believe that Lord Derby’s government will last. James predicts that they will be defeated on the floor of the House and then Derby will have to resign, though no one is quite sure who will replace him.
Josie could feel the excitement of London already. She longed to see more of the city. Her aunt, aware of her interest, had introduced her to a literary group, but Josie found it all too tame.
The ladies are all extremely keen on writing “poetic prose,” since they cannot produce real poetry! Much of it is in the old Gothic style, and it is either highly romantic or melodramatic in content. Nobody wants to talk or write about the ordinary people of this city. There are millions of stories to be told, and no one wants to hear them.
Dear Papa, I know you will, and I am ever grateful to have my articles appear in the Review and the Chronicle, but it would be nice to be taken seriously, just once, by the Metropolitan press.
We have been going out a good deal, too. Aunt Beatrice and I have been twice to the House of Commons, twice to the Museum, and once to drive in Hyde Park with Emma Wilson, whose beautiful daughters, Victoria and Stephanie, must be the envy of every other woman in London. Yet they are such modest, unspoilt girls, both very accomplished, too. I wish I had half their talent!
Tomorrow we are to have a very special treat. Julian is to join us and we are to attend a reading by Charles Dickens, after which we are to go to Standish Park at the invitation of the Wilsons. I am looking forward to visiting Standish Park. Julian says it is a very fine estate and, being in Kent, quite different to Derbyshire.
I cannot sleep for the excitement of actually seeing Mr Dickens in the flesh! I promise to write all about it next week.
Your loving daughter,
Josie.
Josie’s excitement continued to grow until they were actually at the hall where England’s most beloved and popular author delighted his audience with readings from two of their favourite novels, The Pickwick Papers and A Christmas Carol. The superb dramatic and comic elements in his material, and his own amazing histrionic skills combined to make a most satisfying entertainment. Josie was enchanted. She had never experienced anything like it before.
Sitting near them was a very smartly dressed woman, tall, blonde, and enthusiastic. Catching Miss Beatrice Tate’s eye, she waved an elegantly gloved hand, and Josie’s aunt waved back. She whispered that she had met her at one of the meetings of her literary group but, unhappily, could not recall her name. During a short break in the performance, Aunt Beatrice revealed that she did remember that the woman was an American writer, and an enthusiastic admirer of Charles Dickens.
Julian noted she was certainly that; she was manifestly overwhelmed with admiration and left no one, including those of the audience sitting beside and in front of her, in any doubt of her response. So keen was she to convey her adoration—mere appreciation seemed inadequate to describe her feelings for the author—that it seemed she did not mind how much of a spectacle she made of herself.
When the performance was over and Mr Dickens, whose skill and charm had completely captivated his audience, had left the hall, the tall woman made her way over to them, enthusiastically greeted Josie’s aunt, and demanded to be introduced to her “friends.” She seemed determined to make the acquaintance of the young people with Miss Tate.
Julian had slipped away to talk to a young man he had recognised across the hall, leaving the unfortunate Josie with her Aunt Beatrice.
Marian Thurber, for that was her name, introduced herself and, on discerning Josie’s interest in literary matters, she was immediately curious to discover more about her and was about to press her for information when a young man in a black overcoat approached the group, plainly keen to attract her attention. Seeing him, Miss Thurber thrust her card into Josie’s hand and, after promising to “be in touch,” left in a great hurry, closely followed by the man in the black coat, who appeared to be remonstrating with her.
Rejoining them in time to see the rather bizarre exit, Julian raised an eyebrow and appeared about to comment when the woman was seen returning. To his great relief, the target of her attention was another group of people who were still discussing the performance. Seizing the moment and Josie’s arm, he guided her out of the hall and, having secured a hansom cab, conveyed them to Miss Tate’s house, where they were to wait for the Wilsons, with whom they were travelling t
o Kent.
Josie was tired and fell asleep on the way, waking only when they reached the inn at Rochester, where they dined and broke journey for the night. Emma Wilson, ever conscious of her responsibilities, ensured the maintenance of proper decorum by having Josie share her bedroom, leaving the gentlemen to their own devices.
The following morning, they left soon after breakfast and made excellent time, arriving at Standish Park in the afternoon. Josie, who had never been to Kent, was all eyes and ears, absorbing every new sight and sound.
Writing that night to Elizabeth, she expressed her appreciation:
The lovely woods and meadows that clothe the countryside delight the eye, as do the quaint villages with thatched cottages and conical oast houses. The landscape seems to be sleeping in the sun, as are the dreaming herds of cattle in fields filled with the prettiest wild flowers I have ever seen.
In addition to this rich feast, I have the most delightful room, overlooking the park that seems to fall in gentle terraces to the river far below. Ancient trees in green meadows and clumps of irises by the water all combine to make a veritable heaven wherever I look.
Emma agrees that they are very fortunate to live in what must be the most enchanting part of England.
It is all new to me, and I cannot imagine how I have lived for nigh on twenty years and not known the sheer beauty of Kent…
James and Emma made time to take Josie around the orchards, farms, and parklands of the Standish Estate. The more she saw, the more she loved them. For all her father’s fortune and influence, both of which were considerable, Josie had never before experienced a style of life as it was lived at Standish Park. She loved its elegance, its leisured sense of space and time, which so contrasted with the bustle of her home at Matlock, where life was always run at a fairly brisk pace.
The Wilsons were clearly wealthy, but without the ostentatious trappings that bespoke a taste for opulence as at Rosings Park; rather, everything was elegant and tasteful, blending into an atmosphere of harmony and balance where nothing was overdone. Wherever she turned her eyes, whether to the lofty, handsome rooms or the acres of woodland and park, which seemed to stretch endlessly along the valley of the Stour, the prospect was universally pleasing. As they drove around the estate, Josie frequently begged that they stop so she could absorb the loveliness of a particular place or make a quick sketch, which on her return to the house, she would immediately fill out with other details.
The Women of Pemberley Page 31
