Practical concerns were uppermost in Cassy's mind, when she asked,"And what will he do? Where will you live?"
Margaret's answer was precise."Mr Archer has some savings, ma'am, and having worked for two gentlemen in London, he has good references, which have helped him secure a position in a gentleman's household, where he has obtained work for me, too, but only as a kitchen maid, at first," she explained.
It certainly seemed like sound common sense and Cassy wished the girl well, advising her to take great care in all her dealings with people.
She was a simple country girl and there were pitfalls aplenty for an impressionable young person in places like Manchester and the households of gentlemen, she warned. Having given her a gift of some linen and two pounds towards her wedding expenses, she urged her to write."You must keep me informed of how you get on, Margaret; if you are sensible and work hard, I am sure you will not remain a kitchen maid for long. When you do return to Derbyshire, I hope you will come and visit. Of course, you know, we shall have moved to Camden Park by then."
Margaret's eyes filled with tears as she clasped the hands of her mistress, to whom she knew she owed so much, as she took her leave.
"Thank you for all you have done for me, ma'am, and Dr Gardiner and Miss Lizzie, too. I shall miss the children, ma'am, Master James and Master Anthony," she said sobbing and Cassy had to fight back her own tears.
She had never liked John Archer, there was something rather pretentious about him, which made it difficult to like him; yet she could not deny that she had been impressed by his honest admissions to the coroner and no one had doubted his sincerity, when he had confessed to his affection for Margaret, as demonstrated by his attempts to protect her from the advances of the appalling Mr Jones.
They were actions, which may well have earned him a death sentence or a very long stay in prison. Instead they had won him his freedom, and Margaret's gratitude and love.
Cassy was amused by the irony of it all. The man who had been a gentleman's servant had proved to be more of a gentleman, than the man who had claimed the title by birth, wealth, and social status. Perhaps, she thought, as she watched her leave, Margaret was doing the right thing after all. She needed a steadying influence, being still young and impulsive, perhaps John Archer would provide it.
Watching from the window, Cassy saw her say goodbye to the boys, their governess, and Laura Ann. The children were loathe to let her go, clinging to her hand and holding on to her skirt, as she walked with them. Cassy could not help feeling some regret that there had been no possibility of keeping the girl in her service. Now, she was to marry Archer, she would go wherever he went, she thought, sadly.
With a wry smile, she recalled her husband's words on the night after the coroner's inquest. Richard had believed Margaret would indeed be flattered by Archer's open declaration of love. He had been proved right and Cassy looked forward to telling him so.
There were however, other matters at hand and presently, she turned her attention to them. An invitation had arrived from Rebecca Tate, asking her to tea that afternoon. Mrs Tate was soon to join her husband in London, where he had spent most of the last month, prior to leaving for a tour of Europe in the Spring. She did not expect to return to Derbyshire until the following Autumn. Rebecca wrote:
Dearest Cassy, I have neither seen nor spoken with you for many months and I long to see you before I leave to join Mr Tate in London. If you will come to tea with me, I shall be so very happy."
…and Cassy knew she had to go.
Becky Tate had been a friend since childhood and a most valuable ally in a number of causes, besides being Julian's mother-in-law. As girls, and later young women, pressing local councils and Members of Parliament on issues such as education for girls and hospitals for children, they had been as one, working successfully together to improve their community. They'd been a very happy, successful team, but since Josie's death and Julian's departure for France, they had seen little of one another.
The stresses and strains of the previous months had made casual social intercourse difficult, if not impossible.
Some time previously, Cassy had learned from her sister-in-law Emily Courtney, who was very close to Rebecca, that Mr Tate, heartsick with the loss of his favourite child, had immersed himself in his business affairs, leaving his wife to grieve alone. It was well known, Emily had said, that Becky Tate, once a gregarious and sociable woman, with a wide circle of friends and many interests, now hardly went out at all.
Cassy was understandably apprehensive, but steeled herself. She would go, she decided; she could not ignore Becky's appeal.
She need not have feared the encounter; Becky Tate had long wanted to see her friend again, especially since Lizzie's wedding, which she, being in mourning, had not attended.
She greeted Cassandra with genuine warmth."I am so happy you could come, Cassy," she said, as if she had feared her invitation would not be accepted. So heartfelt was her welcome and so obvious her pleasure, Cassy was immediately glad she had come.
Their conversation was at first slow and confined to those subjects that were always easy to speak of, as they asked after each other's health or their plans for Christmas. Before long, however, it was clear to Cassy that Becky was eager to speak of other, more burdensome matters.
She had spent many agonizing months in contemplation since Josie's death and been riven with guilt and misery. The anguish of losing her only daughter in humiliating circumstances had isolated her from the rest of her family and friends. That she could find no excuse for Josie, nor anyone but her daughter and Mr Barrett to blame, only increased her distress.
Most of these tribulations, she had borne alone.
Her husband, whose indulgence of his beloved child had possibly contributed to Josie's stubborn determination to pursue her literary ambitions against all common sense, had turned almost totally to his work, spending less and less time at home, unwilling to share his own or his wife's grief. Only Emily Courtney, of all her friends, had continued to visit her and understood the extent of her anguish.
As poor Becky Tate poured out her unhappy tale, Cassy, having listened a while, moved to sit beside her on the sofa and put her arms around her friend to comfort her. It was as if she had opened the floodgates; the emotions raw and unchecked, rushed forth, swamping both women in a welter of sobs and words, which neither could stop nor comprehend.
Cassy held her, until she had done with weeping, helped dry her tears, and got her a cup of tea.
"There, you must feel a lot better now," she said. Mrs Tate nodded, gulping down her tea, and then, pressing Cassy's hand, she said,"Bless you, Cassy, it was kind of you to come."
Cassy stayed a while longer, during which time they talked of days past, recalling that they had all come out at the Pemberley Ball, in the Autumn of 1834. Emma Bingley, Cassy Darcy, and Becky Collins had all turned seventeen that year. They had been three vivacious young women and the Pemberley Ball had been given in their honour, by Mr Darcy.
"What a grand ball it was,"said Becky."I remember it as though it were yesterday. Mr Tate and I were not as yet engaged and I, hoping to please him, must have tried on half a dozen gowns before I settled on the one I wore. Your cousin Emma Bingley was by far the most beautiful girl present, but we all knew that young Dr Gardiner had eyes only for you, Cassy,"she said, her voice softening with nostalgia, as she added,"What happy days they were, where have they all gone, Cassy?"
Cassy did not need reminding. Her memories of that Autumn were rather different to Becky's, but nonetheless clear.
Perhaps, Becky had forgotten, but it had been on the night of the Pemberley Ball that Richard had proposed; their engagement was announced on the following day, and later on that same fateful day, her young brother William had been killed, changing all their lives forever.
It was a day Cassy would never forget. However, there was no purpose to be served by reminding Becky of it now, she thought; it would only compound her sorrow.
> Since that dreadful day, their lives had moved apart for some years, converged for a while when Julian married Josie, and now seemed about to diverge again.
Some time later, Cassy rose to leave, promising before she went that Anthony would come over to spend the day with his grandmother on the morrow. Mrs Tate's pleasure was obvious. Her young grandson was all that remained of Josie.
"Miss Long hurst will bring him to you and he may be excused from lessons, so you can give him his Christmas presents and he may do as he pleases all day long. I think he will enjoy that enormously and I know you will, too," Cassy said as they embraced.
Once again Becky Tate thanked her and expressed the hope that they would meet again soon.
"Emily and you are my only link with the family; I rely on you to write and give me all the news, Cassy, please," she pleaded, and Cassy had to say,"Of course I shall, Becky. You know that."
As Cassy drove away leaving her friend, a lonely figure at the entrance to an empty house, she wondered at the coldness with which fate dealt out a random hand, comprised of blessings and tribulations, with no thought for their consequences, leaving those who held the cards to play them as they saw fit and make what they could of their lives.
Becky Tate had been dealt a dreadful hand so far, thought Cassy, and it seemed so unfair.
Later that week, in a letter to her cousin Emma Wilson, Cassy wrote:
My dear Emma,
You will, I know, be delighted to learn that we have had letters from both Julian and Lizzie this week. They are both well.
Julian seems content to be working hard in Paris and is making preparations to travel to Africa, while Lizzie claims to be"blissfully happy," and her Mr Carr is likewise blessed, we are to understand.
I am very pleased about Julian, about whom we have all been concerned, but since his return for Lizzie's wedding, he seems a changed man. I know he still misses Josie, who would not? She was so full of spirit.
As for my Lizzie, I never would have thought she was the romantic type, yet, improbable as it might seem, here she is declaring that nothing any of us had said had prepared her for the delightful state of matrimony!
Neither she nor her beloved Mr Carr can see anything but good in one another! Can one ask for more? I think not!
But my dear Emma, not everything is light and happiness. Having seen poor Becky Tate, whom I visited some days ago, I am filled with feelings of outrage at the unfairness of life. If Becky could have had one wish, it must have been to have her daughter Josie advantageously and happily married. With Julian as a son-in-law, it seemed she had all her wishes come true.
Yet now, Josie is dead and Becky is so alone, it is pitiful. Mr Tate appears to spend very little time with her. Her only consolation is that Anthony is with us and can visit her, or she him, whenever she is in Derbyshire. Dear Emily remains a close friend, of course.
Seeing her unhappy fate, I am so grateful for the happiness we have and yet afraid of what terrors the future may hold. But, as Papa has always said,"It is not the fear of the morrow, but the needs of today that must drive us…" and today, dear Emma, it is absolutely imperative that I complete my packing for our move to Camden Park.
I do look forward very much to your visit in the Spring, before which, of course, we hope also to see you in London at Richard's investiture.
Papa plans a small reception at Portman Place, afterwards. He is so very proud of his son-in-law. I know you and James will be there.
Your loving and devoted cousin, Cassy Gardiner.
* * *
With the return of Mr and Mrs Carr from their extended wedding journey in Ireland, their farm and its famous stud began to hum with activity in the Spring. It attracted the attention of those persons whose interest in horses often far outweighed their common sense, a state confirmed by their willingness to part with vast sums of money for an unproven animal that caught the eye.
It was at one of these yearling sales, on a warm Spring day, that Mr Darcy, seeking to purchase a colt for his grandson and heir, chanced upon a man who had been wandering around the paddock, pad and pencil in hand, sketching the horses. Anthony, who was hanging on his grandfather's arm, was interested and asked if he might have one of the drawings. The ladies, Elizabeth, Cassandra, and Lizzie, watching from the shade of a marquee where tea was being served, held their breath as Mr Darcy approached the itinerant artist. They could hear very little of what was said between the two men, chiefly on account of Anthony chipping in all through their conversation, but it all appeared perfectly amicable. Some money changed hands and Anthony had his drawing, which the artist signed with a flourish, before handing it to the boy. He then appeared to bow and thank Mr Darcy, as they parted.
Later, when they were all at lunch, Mr Darcy commented favourably on the man's work."He's very deft and gets the spirit of the horse with a few bold strokes," he said, then turning to Mr Carr, asked,"Who is he? Does he live around here? I wonder, is he any good at landscapes? Would he do some sketches of the park and terrace at Pemberley for me, do you think?"
Once again, Elizabeth looked apprehensively across at Cassy, as they waited for Mr Carr to answer. What followed was a quite remarkable exchange.
"The artist," said Mr Carr,"is a Mr Frank Wickham," and despite Mr Darcy's initial look of surprise, he continued, without interruption."You may recall, sir, he gave some vital evidence in the inquest into the death of the man Jones last year; evidence that helped exonerate an innocent young fellow, Josh Higgins, who looks after my horses."
As Mr Darcy nodded, remembering the incident well, Mr Carr continued, with an innocence based largely upon his ignorance of family history."Wickham comes from Hertfordshire, but prefers to work in the Midlands and the Lake District. He has taken a cottage on my property for the Summer."
"I see," said Mr Darcy, quietly, and turning to Cassy, asked,"Cassy, is Mr Carr aware that Mr Wickham is your Aunt Lydia's son?"
Cassandra never hesitated, not even for a second."Yes, Papa, and I believe he is also aware that we have had some problems with Mr Wickham's late father and two of his brothers in the past; but Frank is not like his brothers, Papa. He seems a decent sort of man and leads a very quiet life. Indeed, he has confessed to Darcy that he would like to get away from the rest of his family, which is why he chooses to work in this part of the country," she said, to which information, Lizzie adeptly added her own contribution.
"He has also begun teaching the children at the parish school to draw and paint, in return for the use of the cottage. Mr Carr made an agreement with him and the children at the school are delighted; they have never had such an opportunity before."
Whether it was the fact that Mr Carr had never been privy to the bitter feud between Mr Darcy and his bête noire the late George Wickham and therefore spoke without fear or favour, or whether Mr Darcy had decided that forty years was long enough to dull even his righteous wrath, they would never know. Having listened to their explanations, he nodded and shrugged his shoulders, reflecting no doubt upon those other Wickhams, before saying to Mr Carr,"Well, he certainly has a talent and is entitled to make a living. Perhaps, Mr Carr, you would be so good as to ask him to call on me one day next week. He should bring along some of his work; if I am satisfied, I should like to commission a series of sketches of some parts of the grounds and aspects of Pemberley House. We could discuss terms and he could start work as soon as possible."
The relief around the table was palpable.
As young Darcy Gardiner told it afterwards,"It was as though we had all been expecting Grandfather to explode in a fit of rage at the thought of a Wickham in the neighbourhood. But to everyone's amazement, once Mama and Lizzie had explained it all, my grandfather just nodded and looked as if he had never heard of the dreadful George Wickham in his life. He is even ready to commission Frank to do some sketches of the park at Pemberley!"
His brother Edward, who was rarely troubled by such matters, especially now he was a contented, married man, said in a
laconic voice,"Perhaps Grandfather has grown weary of the whole thing and would rather forget it. It was a long time ago."
Cassy responded immediately."Your grandfather has certainly not forgotten George Wickham's monstrous conduct, but I think he knows in his heart that it is uncharitable to visit the sins of the guilty upon the innocent.
"Frank Wickham is not responsible for his parents and is entitled to be treated as an individual, not just as the son of Mr Wickham and Aunt Lydia. I believe Papa has decided to do just that. He has no feud with FrankWickham, who has done none of us any harm; it would be unjust to punish him for his father's misdeeds and we all know that Papa is never unjust to anyone."
Cassy's loyal defence of her father silenced both her sons. Her husband, who had listened without comment, finished his tea, rose, and kissed his wife, before preparing to leave the room.
"I think your mother has had the last word on this matter. I could not agree with her more," he said, and walked with Cassy to the entrance, where the carriage waited to convey him to Derby.
* * *
Some days later, Frank Wickham arrived at Pemberley with a folio of his drawings. Cassandra had been invited to assist her father in appraising his work and negotiating his fee; to her great delight, the matter was quite amicably and swiftly settled. Mr Darcy seemed well satisfied with the work presented to him and, for Mr Wickham, the singular honour of working at Pemberley far outweighed the monetary value of his commission. He made it quite clear that he felt very honoured to be asked to do the work. Neither man mentioned the connection between their families.
Over the next few weeks, Frank Wickham worked on his assignment with great zeal, and a series of sketches of the house, the terrace, and features of the park were duly produced. Though not in the same class as the masters of the art, Wickham demonstrated an eye for line and perspective and simplicity of execution that his patron clearly appreciated. Having had the first two or three sketches approved, he was left to complete his commission, which he did to the complete satisfaction of Mr Darcy, his wife and daughter.
Mr. Darcy's Daughter Page 37
