Mr. Darcy's Daughter

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Mr Carr has undertaken to pay the bill for him, but since we are at least three or four days from reaching Matlock, he asks if you would send the money to Mr Brewer together with the note from Wickham, which I here enclose. Mr Carr wishes me to say he will reimburse you for the amount, in full.

  If this matter can be cleared up before Frank sees the police and the coroner, there will be no reason for concern about his probity or the reliability of his story.

  I know how eager you must be to have this matter settled and hope our efforts will help bring it to a satisfactory conclusion.

  Both Mr Carr and I look forward to being back at home, for though my aunt and uncle have been most hospitable and kind, this vexing affair has hung over us and inhibited our enjoyment of an otherwise pleasant visit.

  I have to say, Mama, that in spite of all the facts we have gathered, including Wickham's statement, we are no closer to discovering who killed Andrew Jones or with what motive. It has engaged our minds for many hours of each day, but to this moment, it remains a puzzle, the key to which has completely eluded us. Mr Carr sends his warmest regards to you all. My uncle and aunt send their love and have hopes of seeing you later in the year, when they will be visiting Pemberley.

  Ever your loving son, Darcy Gardiner.

  * * *

  In Derbyshire, where the early winds of Autumn had already begun to rustle through the woods, turning some leaves to gold and scattering others along the footpaths, roads, and gullies, Cassandra Gardiner and her daughter read the letter with interest. Each hoped to find in it some personal satisfaction. Both were keen to have the unhappy business of Margaret Baines and Mr Jones settled as discreetly and as expeditiously as possible. It was proving to be more than a distraction at a very busy period in their lives and, in Lizzie's case, had taken her beloved Mr Carr away, just when she wanted most to have him beside her.

  However, while Cassy seemed reasonably satisfied with the contents of her son's letter, Lizzie clearly was not. She had read and re-read her brother's letter, looking for some small message, a sentence, a phrase even, from Mr Carr and found none, save for the general salutation. He had sent his"warmest regards to them all," including her with the rest; it could not have been duller, she thought.

  To say she was disappointed would be an understatement.

  Since they had become engaged, Lizzie had not been parted from her Mr Carr for any appreciable length of time and this separation was beginning to take its toll upon her usually blithe spirit.

  Lizzie had gathered from her brother's letter that it would probably be four days before they could expect them back and then, she wondered, how much longer would he be involved in the matter of Josh Higgins and Mr Wickham?

  She was aware that he took his responsibilities to the community seriously and surmised gloomily that it may well be several weeks before the coroner heard all the evidence, questioned the witnesses, and settled the matter. Yet, he had neither written to her nor sent her a message in her brother's letter. Young, vulnerable, and in love, she was hurt by his silence.

  Lizzie was not to know that similar thoughts were absorbing the mind of the man whose absence was causing her grief. He, too, had scarcely been a few days away, before he began to crave the sight of her and long for her company. Yet, while he could sigh away his deprivation and complain to his friend, Lizzie was too shy to speak of her feelings to anyone.

  Laura was too young to understand and her mother was, she judged, too busy with a dozen different tasks or too anxious about the dreadful business of Margaret Baines to be troubled by such trifling matters.

  She, therefore, suffered alone, hoping the pain of her loneliness would end sooner, yet resigned to the fact that this was probably a forlorn hope.

  For Lizzie Gardiner, who had led a relatively sheltered life, undisturbed by scandalous or shocking events, the year just gone had been a turbulent and disturbing one. At eighteen, when the highlights of her social life had been a cricket match, the harvest festival, a chamber concert, or the annual Pemberley Ball, she had viewed life with an innocent naïveté.

  One year later, she had witnessed the gradual destruction of her cousin's marriage, the betrayal of trust and subsequent death of a young woman she had always regarded with affection. There followed the renunciation of his inheritance by her Uncle Julian Darcy, with all its attendant consequences for his family and her own.

  Now, as if that were not sufficient, they were involved, through no fault of theirs, in the extraordinary escapade of Margaret Baines and Mr Jones, with another death and a possible murder enquiry to boot!

  In this same period, Lizzie's own life had been changed by the arrival in the area of her brother's friend, Mr Michael Carr. The awakening of love in her youthful heart, the discovery that he loved her enough to want to marry her, and the admission that her life would be far less felicitous without him had changed her life profoundly.

  In her diary, to which she confided her innermost thoughts, she wrote,

  It all came upon me so gently, with none of the surprise and excitement one reads of in books, where young ladies and gentlemen declare that they have fallen in love instantly at the very first meeting, while bells peal in the background and flowers bloom at their feet! I knew none of this.

  Yet, now, so deeply am I in love, so ardently drawn to him, that if he were by some dreadful mischance (which God forbid) to be taken from me, I do not believe I would care to wake up upon the morrow.

  And on another page,

  Ever since he has gone with my brother to Hertfordshire, I have missed him so terribly that I dare not speak of it, lest it is deemed unseemly to have such strong feelings, but I do so long for his return.

  Yet, despite this feeling of desolation, on the following morning, when her mother, after breakfast had been cleared away, asked if Lizzie would accompany her on a visit to her grandmother, Mrs Gardiner, she agreed without hesitation.

  "Do put on your pretty new blue gown and bonnet, my love," said her mother."Your Grand mama always enjoys seeing you dressed up, and since she does not get about much, this would be an opportunity for her to see you in it. It will cheer her up."

  Lizzie could not help thinking it was such a pity that Mr Carr was away, because she had hoped to wear her new gown for his benefit.

  Nevertheless, she went upstairs, dressed, put up her hair, wore her new bonnet, and came downstairs in less than half an hour. Cassandra was pleased. "There, you do look lovely, Lizzie. I am glad we got the blue muslin instead of the cream; it suits you well and that bonnet is very pretty indeed!" she said as they went out together.

  They took the small carriage. It was not far to Oakleigh Manor, which lay in a pleasant valley, not far from the village of Lambton.

  The day was warm and windless, with high white clouds sailing lazily across a sky so blue it hurt the eyes to look on it for long. Mother and daughter were both glad of the cover the carriage provided. Cassy had noticed that Lizzie had been rather quiet and had put it down to the strain of the unhappy business with Margaret Baines and Mr Jones. She was pleased they were driving out to Oakleigh today; it would provide a welcome distraction, she thought.

  They were approaching the inn at Lambton, where the coaches from Derby and Birmingham stopped to drop off and pick up passengers. Despite the growing popularity of rail travel, many travellers still preferred the coach. As the inn came into view, they saw a figure on the road ahead. It was a tall man, and he was walking towards them at a fairly brisk pace, his overcoat flung over his shoulder. Clearly, he did not need it on such a warm day.

  "Stop!" cried Lizzie to their driver,"Stop! Look, Mama, it's Mr Carr!" and even before the vehicle had been brought to a standstill, she was preparing to evacuate her seat, heedless of her mother's cries of caution.

  As they drew near, the man, alerted by the sound of the carriage pulling up beside him, looked up at its occupants. Sure enough, it was Mr Carr and, as the door was opened, Lizzie leapt out of the vehicle and into his
astonished arms. Cassandra could do no more than watch, as the pair embraced, their elation at this unexpected meeting clearly overwhelming any inhibitions they may have had.

  While a little unsettled by their very public display of affection, Cassy, herself a woman with strong feelings and a passionate nature, understood how they might feel and was disinclined to attach blame to either.

  She could not, however, avoid a sharp stab of guilt that she had neither detected nor sought to assuage her daughter's feelings, which were now so obvious to her and to anyone else who cared to observe them. She had not thought to ask and Lizzie had clearly suffered alone. Cassy blamed herself, as she saw her tears and then the mutual delight that suffused their faces as they were reunited, clearly reluctant to break apart.

  When Mr Carr helped Lizzie back into the carriage, keeping hold of her hand, as he stood beside the vehicle, he explained that there had been a problem with horses at Derby."I took the coach and travelled ahead, lest you should worry at the delay, Mrs Gardiner," he explained,"leaving Darcy and Wickham to follow. They will not be more than half a day's journey behind me."

  Yet Cassy knew and she was sure Lizzie would know, too, that he had probably travelled ahead because he could no longer endure the separation. She could not fail to appreciate their delight in their chance reunion. It prompted a change of plan. Inviting Mr Carr to join them in the carriage, Cassy said,"We were going to Oakleigh Manor to visit Mrs Gardiner. I expect to spend the day with her, but if you choose, Lizzie and you may return to Matlock and send the carriage for me later."

  The pleasure on both their faces was assurance enough that she had done the right thing.

  If further proof was needed, it came with the warmth of her daughter's embrace as they parted at Oakleigh and her whispered,"Thank you, Mama." It was not only an act of understanding and love, but also an index to Cassy's trust in her daughter and Mr Carr. To Lizzie, it confirmed that hers was the best mother in the world. She would do nothing to outrage or breach her trust. For Mr Carr, however, Lizzie had another plan in mind.

  The confidence she had gained from his warm and spontaneous greeting, and the subsequent pleasure she had from his compliments upon her appearance, allowed her some measure of liberality. She now used it to discover whether the man she loved could be contrite as well as loving.

  With a degree of playfulness that disarmed him completely, she demanded to know why she had received no communication from him while he was away in Hertfordshire.

  At first, somewhat disconcerted by the unexpected question, Mr Carr attempted to provide her with a reason, but found his path blocked, as Lizzie insisted, with a smile that belied her intention, that she could not see why, if her brother could write to her mother, he could not have done likewise and penned a note to her. As he struggled in vain for an acceptable answer, she wondered aloud."Could it be," she mused, in a quiet but clearly reproving voice,"that his silence indicates that, having secured my affection and consent, he no longer thinks it necessary to accord me those gentle courtesies that were so much a part of our early acquaintance?"

  At this quite outrageous suggestion, Mr Carr had to protest most strongly and, in words of increasing degrees of tenderness, he not only proclaimed his love for her, but told her how wretched he had been without her, how often he had told her brother so and wished he was back in Derbyshire with her.

  When she asked,"But why then, did you not write to me?" he replied in anguished tones,"Because, my dearest Lizzie, I have not the talent to put down on paper all I feel for you and I was afraid if I had written of mere mundane matters that you would think my words inadequate."

  "And you supposed I would prefer your silence?" she asked, determined to press him for an answer.

  "I would. Rather silence than some well-worn string of phrases, signifying nothing. Had I loved you less, Lizzie, my darling, it would have been easier to write something sentimental and probably meaningless; but you are too dear to me to play at friends and lovers with you. I love you dearly, believe me, and I am truly sorry if I have hurt you by my failure to write. It was not in any way a reflection of my feelings, which have been uniformly wretched at being separated from you."

  He looked and sounded so genuinely distressed, she had no doubt at all of his sincerity and she had to stop him and confess that she was teasing, adding cunningly,"It is, however, good to know that a gentleman is as capable of feeling remorse as he is of love."

  As usual in such matters, the most pleasure lies in mutual appeasement, following each misunderstanding, and so it was with them.

  By the time they had reached Matlock, both Lizzie and Mr Carr were convinced, beyond doubt, of each other's deep and abiding affection and had determined that it was quite impossible to tell which of them loved the other more. A happy condition, they agreed, which augured well for their future together.

  * * *

  That evening, Mr Carr joined the Gardiners for dinner. Dr Gardiner was given an account of the results of their journey to Hertfordshire.

  Though they were all disappointed that Darcy and Frank Wickham had been delayed at Derby, Mr Carr was nevertheless very confident that the information they had obtained from Mr Wickham would greatly assist Josh Higgins.

  "I expect he will be exonerated of the charge of murder and be released before the inquest, sir," he told Richard, with some confidence.

  Dr Gardiner asked several pertinent questions, relating to the reliability of Wickham's statement, his willingness to testify, and even more importantly, his sincerity in agreeing to come forward.

  "Are you quite certain he is genuine in his desire to help, or does he hope for some material gain by obliging you?" he asked, adding quickly,"Pray do not misunderstand me, Mr Carr, I ask only because the Wickhams do have an unenviable record of such behaviour and I would not want you to be taken in."

  Mr Carr assured him that they had questioned FrankWickham very thoroughly and were confident that his story was true in every particular.

  "He is absolutely solid on the matter of meeting Josh on the other side of the river, while fishing that evening, and giving him some money. Darcy and I impressed upon him the need for truthfulness, not only in the interest of Josh Higgins, but in his own interest as well."

  "Indeed," said Richard,"perjury is a serious offence. However, if you are both well satisfied, I daresay, it will all turn out well. Congratulations, Darcy and you have accomplished far more than I ever expected."

  Lizzie, listening quietly to their conversation, was delighted with her father's approval for the man she loved.

  After spending a while longer with Lizzie, Mr Carr left and Lizzie, looking much happier, went to her room.

  Soon afterwards, the Gardiners went upstairs and, as they prepared for bed, Cassy told her husband of the encounter between Lizzie and Mr Carr on the road to Lambton. She confessed she had been astonished by the high degree of feeling in Lizzie's impetuous greeting.

  "I blame myself," she confessed."I should have realised she was lonely and missed him. I have been too busy, too concerned with other people's business to think of my own child. Poor little Lizzie."

  Richard, who had observed how much more cheerful young Lizzie had been that evening and attributed it correctly to the return of the gentleman concerned, smiled and put a reassuring arm around his wife. He was well aware of the burden she had carried these past months.

  "I have certainly not forgotten and I hope you have not either, my love, how one feels at such a time," he said,"I recall that we were parted for a much longer period, shortly after we were engaged, when Paul Antoine was dying and you stayed behind in Italy with your parents to support Emily, while I had to return to work at the hospital in Derby. I know how they must feel and I do think it is wise that their wedding is not delayed much longer than the end of Autumn.

  Do you not agree?"

  Cassy did agree but was not easily reassured that she had no blame to bear in the matter. Frequently, as she hurried through the day, a
ttending to work on her father's estate, she had stopped to consider practical domestic matters, but not once had she thought that Lizzie may have needed comfort. It was a serious omission and Cassy was filled with self-reproach.

  * * *

  In the very early hours of the morning, Darcy Gardiner and his companion, Frank Wickham, arrived in a state close to exhaustion. They were allowed to sleep late and breakfast well before Mr Carr, with an attorney-at-law in attendance, arrived to advise Mr Wickham and accompany him to the offices of the constabulary. There, they assumed the tedious processes of the law would begin.

  Secure in the knowledge that the small but significant matter of his debt owed to Mr Brewer had already been paid, FrankWickham was less uneasy and more ready to do his duty. Mr Carr and Darcy Gardiner made statements, attesting to the willingness of Mr Wickham to testify, and then Mr Wickham and the attorney went in. Some hours later, they emerged to inform those waiting that Mr Wickham's statement corroborated the story told by Josh Higgins in every detail and Higgins would be released into his parent's care, under orders not to leave the district until after the coroner's inquest.

  Unhappily, that was not the end of the matter.

  The police, having released their only suspect, now had no plausible evidence to present to the coroner, regarding the death of Mr Jones.

  They had a dead body and little else. With only the girl, Margaret Baines, who was not a suspect at this stage, left to give evidence; there was some heightened suspense as to what would happen next. Would someone else be arrested?

  Each morning brought more rumour and speculation and very little illumination or fact. If no one was responsible, what was to be the verdict? Not accidental death, surely? Clearly the man had either been pushed or had fallen in the course of a scuffle to the floor of the quarry, where his body had been smashed upon the rocks. His terrible injuries suggested it. But who was to blame? Some accused the girl, while others spoke of a mysterious stranger, seen in the woods, who had accosted and killed Jones. Speculation was rife. In the streets, at the inn, even it seemed, in the courthouse, there was talk. No one could agree.