The dresses were ready before the Caldwells arrived. Anne was delighted with them; they suited her well, and with her newly styled hair, she was able to play her part in the initial dinner party with a confidence she had seldom felt before. Visitors Came to Pemberley almost every day, and many had been very agreeable, but to see them again was so comfortable! She could talk with parents and son alike, with as much ease as if they were old acquaintances. Mr and Mrs Caldwell treated her like a daughter, and it was amazing how many of the same books she and Edmund liked!
The first evening, as they were all sitting together after dinner, Georgiana suddenly said, “Do you know, brother, that Anne says she cannot dance?”
“Not dance? Why, how is this?”
Anne admitted that she had, of course, been taught to dance, but being out of practice, unwell, and shy, she had not been able to the last time she was at a ball.
“That will not do at all,” said Mrs Darcy. “We are going to the Lambton assembly quite soon. What can be done?”
“If you would like, Madam,” said Mrs Annesley, “I would be very happy to play the piano, and we could walk Miss de Bourgh through a few figures, at any time.”
“Oh!” cried Georgiana, “let us dance now! We could make up, let me see… we are one… three… five women, and four men. We can make up three couples, if Mrs Annesley will play for us, and Anne can watch.”
“I have a better idea,” said Elizabeth. “I will play, you can make up four couples, and Anne can join in,” and she sat down at the pianoforte, and began a country dance.
It was strange, but after one walk through, Anne had no trouble at all in picking up the figures! Among friends, in whom she had confidence, her shyness vanished. She turned, and cast, and set, and curtseyed, and yet had leisure to notice that Colonel Fitzwilliam was by far the best dancer, and Edmund Caldwell the worst.
After this, they danced every evening. There were walks every day in the park, but soon everyone became ambitious, and a walk to the celebrated fossil face was proposed.
“How far is it?” Anne asked.
“I think it cannot be more than two miles,” her cousin Darcy said.
“A little more, I believe,” said Mr Caldwell. “Edmund, the fossil rock face—is it not about two miles distant from here?”
“I think so,” his son said. “It is a while since I walked it, and then it was from my own home; but I think it cannot be much more.”
“Two miles! Oh, that is nothing,” said Georgiana.
“Yes, but wait a moment,” her brother said. “It is not a ride, remember, you were talking of a walk.”
“Yes, but two miles, we walk almost that far when we go into the village.”
“But that is there and back.”
“Oh! I had forgot, we must come back.”
“Yes, but you will be coming downhill,” said Mr Caldwell.
“There is quite a steep uphill slope to get to the face.”
“It is all very well for most of you,” Mrs Darcy said, “but I confess that I have not, at this moment, such a burning interest in rock faces, as would lead me to walk four miles, in total, for the reward of seeing one. I think that I will be quite happy to stay at home.”
“And I will stay, and keep an eye on you,” Darcy said, “for I have some business matters that cannot well be put off. My steward has been looking at me reproachfully for several days now.”
Mr and Mrs Caldwell, however, were not to be held back, and constituted themselves the party's guides and principal mentors. “Indeed, my mother knows far more than I do,” Edmund Caldwell said. “And my husband knows more,” Mrs Caldwell said, “than both of us together.”
“I know very little of such matters,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “and my lack of knowledge embarrasses me; but if you will have me along, I will promise to be an attentive, if not an apt, pupil.”
Since arriving at Pemberley, Anne had gained a good deal of strength, but walking still fatigued her, and she much preferred to ride. Colonel Fitzwilliam was very pleased with her progress, and she delighted in her morning rides, which allowed her to see a great deal of the beauty of the park. She did not like to say that she was not up to a walk of four miles, but clearly, Colonel Fitzwilliam did not intend to go on horseback: suppose she started out, and could not complete the distance? Would she not be better advised to stay at home? Or would she be able to ride? Perhaps Georgiana or a groom would come with her? These thoughts had scarcely begun to occupy her mind, when Mrs Annesley proposed a plan. “that is too much of a distance for me,” she said, “but is the road fit for the pony carriage?”
“Perfectly,” Darcy said, “as long as the weather is fine. It is a pleasant country lane, except for the last few hundred yards, when you must leave the path, which is but a track by that time, and walk—or rather scramble—up to the face. We did it easily when we were boys, and even now it would not be too difficult for anyone wearing good stout shoes.”
“If I were to drive the little carriage,” said Mrs Annesley, “It could be useful to bring something to drink, and perhaps some sandwiches, for I think—am I not right?—that the countryside is quite remote, and there are no villages, no inns or taverns. And if any of the ladies are afraid of fatigue, one of them could take a seat with me, at any time, or ride with me for the whole of the way.” Anne immediately closed with the offer, and it was agreed that they should go together.
Chapter 10
The day dawned fine, with a gentle breeze. Anne's enjoyment was assured from the start by the knowledge that she was looking her best. It was Georgiana who had remarked that Anne never looked well in a bonnet. Neither close-brim, wide-brim, nor poke suited her small, delicate features; she merely looked “as prim as a governess,” said Georgiana. She had insisted on Anne trying on all her hats, and on giving her several. The one she was wearing today had been agreed by all to be the prettiest, with its wide, shady brim and green ribbons, and went very well with her new cambric gown.
So attired, she enjoyed the ride with Mrs Annesley, and a comfortable discussion of the evening gown she was to wear at the Lambton assembly. It was not too long before they came to the point where the carriage must be abandoned. Ahead of them they saw the rest of the party, who had begun to walk up a grassy path, to the actual face, and who kindly stopped to allow them to catch up. The ascent to begin with was not steep, and, everyone encouraging everyone else, was comfortably achieved. Soon their destination was before them, a steep, grayish line of rock, with the ground beneath it strewn with gray chippings and bits of stone. Here there was a short climb to a sort of rock shelf.
“I am afraid,” said Mr Caldwell, “that the best specimens have been taken out long ago. It is about twenty years since we were here, and many other enthusiasts have been here since then. But one never knows, there may be even better things still hidden.”
Georgiana was particularly interested, and getting up to quite a high point, soon called to Mr Caldwell, “Oh, sir! Do come! I am sure there is something very strange here! Do but look! These rounded shapes, these kind of stripes, are they not shells, or animals?”
“It may well be,” he replied, “but I cannot get up there to see; I am afraid I am not as young as I was. Here, Colonel Fitzwilliam, do you take my hammer, and get up there with her.” The Colonel obeyed, but the ledge where Georgiana stood was not large enough to hold them both, and she yielded up her place and started on the way down again.
“Dear me,” said Mr Caldwell. “I remember Darcy, scrambling up to that very ledge, and young Wickham, making his way up beside him, and saying 'Get out, Darcy, do, you have been up there long enough, get out, and let me try what I can do.' You must remember him well, Miss Darcy, for I know you always liked one another. I hear he is married. I hear he is to come back to the neighbourhood very soon—”
“No,” said Mrs Caldwell, “you are mistaken, my dear. It is young Mr Wicking, the churchwarden's son…” but as they were speaking, Georgiana, who had been carefu
lly making her way down, suddenly seemed to twist herself away, and apparently misjudged her footing, for she slipped and fell.
There was a general outcry, and everyone ran to assist her. She had not fallen far, but she had fallen awkwardly, and appeared unable to rise. As Anne, who was nearest, got to her, she saw that Georgiana was crying, with heavy, gasping sobs.
“Oh, how bad is it?” Anne cried, and put her arms round her. Georgiana did not reply.
Mrs Annesley, coming up, said, “Come, Georgiana, come, my dear, let me see. Where does it hurt?” But Georgiana only cried out, and gasped. Mrs Annesley asked, “Does that hurt? Does that?” as she tried both her ankles.
“No, no, it is nothing, do not be concerned, I am well, it was only… I slipped. I am sure all is well,” Georgiana stammered, but as Mrs Annesley tried to help her to stand, she staggered, and would have fallen, but for her companion's arm.
Together, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mrs Annesley got her seated on the grassy bank, while the others stood about, giving all sorts of suggestions, as people always do, and trying to think of anything useful they could do, when there was nothing. “I think she may have sprained her ankle slightly,” Mrs Annesley said. “I am sure that nothing is broken.”
“It seems unlikely,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “It was not a great fall, and she landed on the grass. I would be very surprised if any bones were broken. But what is best to be done now?” However, at that moment, Georgiana again tried to stand up, and this time she succeeded. She was a pitiful sight, with her face scarlet, and tears streaming down her cheeks; it was clear that the accident had distressed her very severely.
“We must take her home,” said Mrs Annesley.
“Yes, indeed,” said the Colonel. “Can she walk as far as the carriage, do you think? Or should we try to carry her?” Georgiana, hearing this, immediately—though not very clearly—intimated that she could walk. Holding tightly to Anne's arm, she proceeded to do so, and they arrived with little difficulty, though slowly, at the place where the pony carriage had been left.
Once she was safely placed in the carriage, Mrs Annesley turned to Anne. “I am afraid, my dear Miss de Bourgh, that we must abandon you,” she said. “If you would like, when we arrive I will send one of the grooms to drive you back to Pemberley. But for now, there is not room for a third person, and I must accompany Miss Darcy.” Anne, who had already come to this conclusion, lost no time in assuring Mrs Annesley that she would be quite comfortable walking back with the others, and the carriage drove off, amid the usual volley of good wishes and recommendations.
After this, nobody seemed to wish to spend more time at the face. Mrs Annesley, as a parting gesture, had handed out the basket with the food and drink, and having sat down in the shade of some rowan trees and refreshed themselves, it was generally agreed that they should start the walk back. The Colonel went ahead with Mr Caldwell, and Mrs Caldwell and her son accompanied Anne. After half a mile, Anne began to stumble.
“Do you find it very difficult to walk, Miss de Bourgh?” Mrs Caldwell asked.
“No… yes… a little,” Anne replied. “I am getting a good deal stronger, though I prefer to ride. The difficulty is that I have not been in the habit of walking very much, and have not the shoes for it. These shoes are not stout enough, and the soles do not keep the pebbles from my feet. “
“We can go as slowly as you wish,” Mrs Caldwell replied.
“Come, Miss de Bourgh,” said her son. “Do you take my arm. Is that better?” It was indeed: with the support of his arm, Anne could take some of the weight off her abused feet, and at once felt more comfortable.
“It is all downhill,” Mrs Caldwell said. “that makes it a good deal easier. See, we are almost at the park entrance already.”
“But there is another mile and a half to go,” Edmund Caldwell objected.
“Do not be concerned, I shall do very well,” Anne replied.
“It is a pity that you do not walk more,” he said. “It is always so: the more people walk, the more strength they have.”
“It is true, but at home, I was considered to be unwell. I only walked in the gardens, or went out in a carriage with my companion—the lady who looked after me. The walk to church, in good weather, was the farthest I ever got.”
“The way gets easier after the next turning,” Mrs Caldwell said. “Do you see that track to the right? The one that turns away just before the park gate, and winds up by the stream, among those rocks? That goes to Edmund's house. He does not live with us, you know; he has his own home.”
“It is three and a half miles from here,” he said, “up a very steep track, unsuited for carriages, and fit only for riding. I would not recommend you to walk up there, Miss de Bourgh. It is very hard. There is a carriage way up the other side, from Burley.”
“But perhaps we might make an expedition sometime; the house is worth seeing,” Mrs Caldwell said. “It is quite an historic place, though it is old and shabby, and he has never fitted it up properly, because he lives there as a bachelor.”
“It is true,” her son said. “I rough it in two rooms, and the rest of the house is pretty well empty.”
“And I think,” said his mother, “that he lives on bread and ham.”
“Oh, come, Mother, it is not so bad as that. Old Murray's wife is quite a good cook; they look after me very well.”
“It will be very pleasant when it is done up—and you will, sometime,” his mother said. “The rooms are all done up in the old paneled style, Miss de Bourgh, which they call linen-fold, and it is rather dark.”
“But I think you might like to see it, Miss de Bourgh,” her son said. “It was built by recusants—people who wanted to go on practising the old Catholic religion, in Queen Elizabeth's time. They wanted to live in a retired place, for their religion was forbidden. But they needed to see who was coming, and there is one room upstairs that has three windows, with views down several valleys. I have always thought it would be a wonderful room for a painter, or for an author to write in.”
“What happened to them?” Anne asked.
“Oh, they were ruined by the fines, for if people did not go to church, they were made to pay, so the queen got rich and they got poor. In the end, the house was sold and they went to live overseas, in France, and never came back.”
“That is a sad story.”
“Yes, it is,” said Edmund. “I often feel sad for those people, ruined for practising what they believed in.”
“But… is it not very wrong, to be a Roman Catholic? I was always taught so.”
“But then, is it not wrong to punish people for their beliefs? And what about those people, who truly believed that they must teach this belief to their children, and no other?”
“Now,” said Mrs Caldwell, laughing, “you have done something, Miss de Bourgh, that no Caldwell can resist. You have started an argument.”
“Say rather, a discussion,” said her son. “Do not be afraid, Miss de Bourgh, we will not get angry.” And, discoursing of religious beliefs, and houses, and history, they reached Pemberley in very good time, and Anne found that she was not tired at all! Walking, she thought, did agree with her, especially when it was done in the company of Mr Edmund Caldwell.
Georgiana, they learned, had scraped her hands, and bruised her knee, but there was no sign of a sprain, and it seemed that the pain she had experienced must have been due to the shock of the fall. Most importantly, she would not be prevented from going to the Lambton assembly, which was shortly to take place.
Chapter 11
Each morning, Anne would ride. Colonel Fitzwilliam was very pleased with her, and she found riding far less tiring than walking, allowing her to see more of the park.
One morning, a few days after the walk to the rock face, when the two of them got back, they learned that Mrs Caldwell had gone out driving with Mrs Darcy, but since the pony carriage would only hold two, the others had decided on a walk. Darcy, it seemed, had business letters that wou
ld not wait. Colonel Fitzwilliam said he would follow the walking party and catch them up. Anne was disinclined to walk, and went to Georgiana's room to practise at the piano. She had but just begun, when the butler approached her and murmured, “A person to see you, miss.”
“Who is it, Forrest?”
“I understand he is your respected mother's agent, miss.”
“Oh! very well, I will see him.”
The agent was in the library. “Good day, Mr Colby.”
“Good day, miss. I was expecting…”
“Yes, of Course; you were expecting to see Lady Catherine. Well, she is at Burley; she was taken ill, you see, on the way here.”
“Yes, miss, so I understand from Mr Forrest. I shall go there, of course. I will be on my way—but there is just one thing, since you are here, miss. It is regarding the usual business at this time of year,” and, smiling kindly, he withdrew from his case a pile of papers. “If you would just sign over the income, as per usual, your signature is wanted here, and here…”
Anne looked at the papers. “What is this, Colby?”
“Why, miss, you sign it every year, it is just as usual.”
“Yes, but what do I sign? I think I should read it, first.”
Mr Colby looked a little agitated. “Lady Catherine wishes it
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