When Cassy expressed some surprise, Elizabeth explained cheerfully,"It is only for a day; they will be back tomorrow afternoon. Meanwhile, we shall have you all to ourselves, Julian, and you must tell us about this convention you are to address in Paris. That must be a great honour."
Cassy noticed that her brother Julian did not look very cheerful at all. It was as though he was not convinced that his wife and son would be back on the morrow. He did, however, cheer up considerably when, a short while later, his nephews Edward and Darcy Gardiner arrived and were invited to stay to dinner.
They had much to talk about. Edward, though the quieter of the two, was most interested in Julian's research, being himself a physician, while Darcy could always be relied upon to entertain a party with a fund of lively political anecdotes and a talent for parody that was guaranteed to amuse.
"You must come with us to Rushmore Farm tomorrow, Julian. You will like my friend Michael Carr, the new owner; he has some astonishing tales of life in America," he said. Julian who had not known that the farm had been sold, so out of touch was he with matters concerning the county, was eager to hear more and, as the afternoon wore on, his spirits seemed to improve quite markedly. As Cassy said afterwards to her sons, she had not seen him engage in such animated conversation with anyone else.
After the Gardiners had left, Julian grew more thoughtful; outside the weather changed and snow began to fall. It snowed all night and great drifts covered the grounds. When the following day dawned almost reluctantly, since there was no sun to speak of, any hopes he may have had of driving out to Matlock and Rushmore Farm were dashed, as news came that the road between Pemberley and Matlock was blocked by snow and two carriages had already been stranded on the bridge.
Another day passed with no message from Josie or the Tates, and Julian's concern was more obvious, especially since he was due to return to his college in Cambridge by the New Year. His parents, now alone with their unhappy son, sensed and understood his anxiety but could do little to reassure him.
* * *
On New Year's Eve, when they heard that the road had been finally cleared of snow and other debris and made safe for vehicles, Mr Darcy sent his manager to the Tates' place in Matlock with a note requesting that Josie and Anthony return to Pemberley, and inviting the Tates to dinner with the family.
Julian was already packed and ready to leave on the morrow, but was persuaded by his mother to stay and travel to Cambridge a day later.
"You can all travel down with Richard. Cassy tells me he is leaving for London on the day after tomorrow; please stay, Julian, it will make your Papa and me very happy," she had pleaded, and Julian had stayed.
Perhaps the prospect of enjoying the company of his brother-in-law on the journey had influenced his decision, for Julian had admired and loved Richard since childhood. If there was one man he would have liked to emulate in all hi sways, it was Dr Gardiner. He had never doubted that his sister had made the best marriage possible.
The party from Matlock arrived and, from the outset, it was clear to both Cassy and her mother that relations between Julian and Josie were badly strained. Indeed, apart from a cursory greeting, they barely spoke to one another. In an obviously calculated gesture at dinner, Josie placed herself between Mr Darcy and her mother.
Mrs Tate made up for any lack of conversation on the part of her daughter, though, telling everyone that she was delighted that Josie was now writing some poetry.
"She is far more likely to have it published than if she had persisted with those solemn pieces about the ills of society. Everybody knows about the poor and the suffering and all the evil things that go on in the world, but no one wants to read about them. It is too depressing. Do you not agree, Mr Darcy?" she asked, with the disingenuous aplomb of one who has had her work published in her husband's journals for many years, with no requirement to justify their relevance to anyone.
Cassy almost winced and noticed that her brother was gazing into his wine glass with a level of concentration he usually reserved for the microscopic bacteria in his laboratory. She looked quickly at Josie, who seemed pleased with her mother's approbation, and then at Mr Darcy, who in his customary way, took some time to respond.
"You are quite right, Mrs Tate; poetry is certainly more popular than serious prose, but if everyone wrote only poetry, who would draw attention to the grave problems that afflict our world and where might we seek answers to them? I have nothing against good poetry and take much pleasure in it, but I also recall that Josie wrote a number of excellent pieces for the Review and wrote exceedingly well. I have some of her work in a folio in the library, and it would be a great pity if she were to give up serious writing altogether."
Josie's father nodded his agreement. He had hoped to persuade his daughter to write regularly for the Review, with little success.
"But if no one will publish it, what good will it do?" asked Josie, and her father-in-law's voice was gentle when he replied,"Many writers have faced rejection at first, my dear; you are young enough to persevere and have patience. If your work is good and well written, as I am sure it is, you will not remain unpublished for long."
Josie bit her lip and looked down at her plate; patience had never been her strong suit. Julian said nothing, but his eyes met Cassy's across the table and the sadness in them was unmistakable.
When they parted later, there was time only to whisper some encouragement and hope he would take heart. But Cassy was now quite certain that her brother's marriage was in deep trouble.
When Richard Gardiner called for them a day later, the family and staff at Pemberley had gathered to bid them farewell and Godspeed. As the time came for them to leave, few could hold back the tears, especially not Elizabeth, for all her uncertainties had returned.
* * *
That afternoon, the weather worsened as the snow returned and fell steadily for two days and nights, stranding travellers and isolating families in their homes all over the county. The news from Hertfordshire, when it came in a letter from Anna, delayed in the mail, was even worse.
There had been a catastrophic accident on the railway bridge at Sidley's Creek, not two miles from Longbourn. Anne-Marie and her husband Colin Elliott, just back from Europe, together with Dr Charles Bingley and groups of volunteers from the surrounding farms and villages, had spent days and nights working first at the crash site and later at the new Children's Hospital, which had been hastily opened to take in the wounded. Many had died, mostly women and children, day trippers from the Midlands on an excursion to London, but the efforts of Charles Bingley and Anne-Marie and their helpers were being hailed in the local press, as the travellers realised that they owed their lives to the work of a few dedicated men and women.
Anna had sent vivid accounts of the carnage at Sidley's Creek and of the heroic efforts of Dr Bingley and Mr and Mrs Elliott in what were appalling conditions.
She concluded:
We are all so proud of them, especially Anne-Marie and Charles, but indeed credit is due to all the ordinary folk, who came from miles around to help save the lives of these unfortunate travellers. Without their efforts, many more lives would have been lost.
Elizabeth passed the letter to her husband. Darcy, depressed as he was by the tales of death and destruction, set about collecting the reports together and sent them to Josie, with a note which drew her attention to the work of Anne Marie and her brother Dr Charles Bingley.
"Sometimes," he wrote,"dedication to a cause, like virtue, is its own reward and yet, at other times, it can be worth so much more."
It was not unkindly meant; simply an endorsement of the words of his friend Bingley and his wife Jane, whose praise for their granddaughter's unselfish dedication to a cause, had brought a dissenting comment from Josie. He let Elizabeth see his note before sending it away to the post.
"Is it likely that Josie will pay any attention?" she asked, without much enthusiasm. Her husband smiled, and said,"Perhaps not now, because she is too abso
rbed in her own discontent; but she is an intelligent young woman and will realise one day that there is more to happiness than self-indulgence. It is not an easy lesson to master, but we must all learn it."
This was no sanctimonious sermon; Elizabeth knew that her husband spoke from experience. It was a lesson they had both learned well.
* * *
With Richard away, Cassy was miserable and annoyed at herself for being so. Her distress was, she felt, self-inflicted, caused chiefly by the need to keep the confidence placed in her hands by her brother. It denied her the benefit of confiding in her husband and of giving some comfort to her mother, who she knew was wracked with anxiety for her son and his family. Her promise to respect Julian's confidence was causing her a great deal of anguish.
Never in all her years of marriage to Richard had she kept any of her fears or misgivings from him, not for any significant time at any rate. Apart from her dependence upon his good sense and judgment, to deceive him, however innocently, was anathema to her. Yet, this time, she had argued, there was no alternative. Julian had insisted, begged even, that no one must know.
Cassy wished with all her heart that Richard would return and give her some indication whether her brother had confided in him, too. She suffered, not knowing that her husband was himself charged with a mission by his father-in-law, who was keen to discover how deeply troubled Julian's marriage was.
When he did return, however, he gave no sign of having learnt any more than he had known of the matter before he had left. He talked of the journey, which had been reasonable, since they had just escaped the hazardous weather, and of London, where he had met and conferred very satisfactorily with his father's lawyer on matters regarding his mother's property. Cassy could not discover what, if anything, had transpired between him and Julian. It was exceedingly frustrating and made her own situation considerably more difficult.
* * *
With the warmer weather, the buds on the trees began to swell and burst, as Spring returned, albeit tentatively, to the dales. Mr Carr, who had been away in London on business for some weeks, returned to Rushmore Farm and, on a fine Spring morning, as Lizzie was preparing for her journey to Cambridge, he called on the Gardiners to invite them to spend a day and dine with him at Rushmore Farm.
He had expended much money and even more time repairing and refurbishing the house and restoring the gardens that had long been neglected. It had been not only a labour of love, for he had become very attached to the farm, but a chance to demonstrate to his friends how hard he had worked and to return their very generous hospitality.
The Gardiners, all but Edward, who had joined a busy practice in Derby in the New Year, were delighted to accept, especially Cassy and her daughters, who had not been to the farm in several years. The Camdens, since their decision to emigrate, had spent little time on entertaining their neighbours.
Laura Ann recalled that she had visited the farm, when she was very little."I remember that it looked like an enormous barn," she said, and Lizzie, not wishing to offend Mr Carr, turned to him and said quickly,"I am sure my sister's memory must be faulty, Mr Carr, for I cannot believe you would have purchased a place that looked like a barn!"
Mr Carr laughed heartily and assured them that if it was a barn, then he had made sure it was a pretty comfortable one, and he hoped some of the work he had done through the Winter had rendered the old place a little more handsome and a good deal more presentable than just any old barn.
Then turning to little Laura Ann, he added,"And I can promise you, Miss Laura, there are no mice in my barn, though there is a very large owl, who lives in the old oak tree, returning every night to exactly the same branch."
While this piece of information provoked a question from Laura to her mother about owls and mice, young Darcy, meanwhile, having visited his friend through the Winter, while he had worked on his property, was moved to protest.
"You are much too modest my friend; Rushmore Farm is a fine, solid old place, albeit one that had been neglected a while, but you have done wonders with it. Mama, you will not believe what a transformation he has effected; he has polished the woodwork and burnished the brass, why he has even had new plumbing and gas lamps installed."
"Oh, have you?" said Lizzie, sounding a little disappointed, as Cassy congratulated him upon his wisdom in improving the property."Modern plumbing I do agree with, but I think candlelight is much prettier than gaslight. It seems too yellow and changes the colours of things, does it not, Mama?"
Lizzie asked.
Cassy agreed that she had a preference for the softer glow of candlelight in the living rooms, and Mr Carr promised immediately that they would have only candles and no gas lamps in the parlour and dining room at the farm, if that was what the ladies desired.
"I do agree that the glow of candles creates a more romantic ambience," he said and added,"The French are partial to it also, probably for the same reason."
"It hides the flaws on ladies' faces," said Lizzie, quite artlessly, bringing a most gallant response from Mr Carr about the total lack of such a requirement in her case, that made her blush and sink into silence. When he left, having extracted a firm promise that they would all meet at Rushmore Farm on Saturday, it was quite clear that Lizzie had been rather more impressed with their visitor, whom she was seeing again after several months, than she had been before. Perhaps he had improved upon closer acquaintance.
* * *
That night, having agonised all week, Cassy could no longer bear her isolation from her husband. She told him all she knew of her brother's predicament, pleading with him not to betray her to Julian when they met."I think he finally confided in me because he could no longer hold within his own heart the pain and shame he feels," she said."I have wanted to speak of it to you, Richard, to ask your opinion, but I could not, because he made me promise I would tell no one," she explained, and Richard promised no one would know.
Then, to her surprise, he told her of the mission he had been given by Mr Darcy."He wishes me to try, as their physician, to discover how grave the situation is between them. Your Mama, having heard Lizzie's account of the visits of Mr Barrett and others for poetry readings while Julian was away at work, has been troubled and your Papa wishes to discover the truth," he explained.
"And do you believe they will?" she asked.
Richard shrugged his shoulders."I should think that, after observing Julian and Josie during their visit to Pemberley at Christmas, they will be in no doubt that there is a very grave problem, but it is unlikely that they will understand, unless Julian tells them, how deeply entrenched it is."
"What will you do, Richard?"
He looked uncertain."I have to admit, my love, that I am at a loss as to what I should do. I have no wish to intrude; neither Julian nor Josie will welcome it. Were I to say anything before he mentions it, Julian will know that you have spoken to me of his troubles."
Cassy sat up in bed, her eyes wide with worry. She was genuinely afraid that if nothing were done, great harm may come to her brother and his family. She could not see either Julian or Josie finding a way out of the confused and unhappy tangle in which they were trapped. They seemed to have neither the will nor the strength to attempt it.
A thought occurred to her."Richard, if you could take him to your club or to dinner, away from the house and Josie, somewhere he was free to speak openly, I am certain he will confide in you. I know he spoke to me when we were alone on Boxing Day, because he had to tell someone; it was too much to bottle up within him. Do you not think so, my dear? Please, will you try? He is so miserable, Richard, it is beyond belief!" she cried and he took her in his arms, comforting her, knowing how deeply she felt her brother's pain.
Her tears flowed then, not only for Julian, but for her parents."They have suffered so much; when William died, I thought Mama would never recover. After Julian was born, there were some years of happiness and hope, and now this! It is not fair," she said and wept, as he held her as he had often
done in the past.
Richard knew that Cassy's wounds, like those of her parents, would never be completely healed. Beloved by everyone who knew him, bright, talented, yet unassuming, William Darcy had lost his young, promising life in a stupid accident that had devastated them all. It was the type of tragedy from which a family found it difficult to recover. The Darcys were no exception.
That it had happened on the day when Richard and Cassy had become engaged, cruelly cutting short their blissful celebration, had added a sharp poignancy to their love. Indeed, it had been the first test of it, as Cassy, unable to reach her grieving parents, had turned to him for comfort and strength to sustain her through the dreadful days and months that had followed.
After the first shock of her brother's death, one of Cassy's worst fears had been that the lack of a male heir to her father's estate may mean that she would have to inherit Pemberley. It was the very last thing she wanted.
With the birth a few years later of Julian, that fear at least had passed and Cassy had taught her young brother everything he needed to know to be the next Master of Pemberley.
But now, with Julian's life falling apart, it seemed she was going to be at the centre of it once more. Her parents would expect it of her and so would the community. It was a prospect that unsettled and alarmed her. Richard did his best to reassure her, promising to speak with her brother when he took Lizzie to stay with them.
Grateful for his strength, love, and consistent kindness, she let him persuade her that all was not lost.
"Look at it this way, my love, if Josie has not left her husband because of the boy, it is clear she loves the child and may well stay with him—and while she stays, there is hope they may be reconciled," he said, and though he sounded rather less confident this time, Cassy wanted to believe it was true. It was the only comfort she had.
Mr. Darcy's Daughter Page 13
