Legacy of Pemberley (The Pemberley Chronicles; Pride and Prejudice Sequel Series)

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  As Darcy listened, incredulous, he related his story.

  “And what makes you think this Mr Croker intends to do more than make Jude an offer for some of his land, an offer which he may well refuse?” Darcy asked.

  “I had thought that was all he would do, until this afternoon, when Rose informed me the man was so keen he may offer Jude a substantial loan to develop the home farm,” Robert replied.

  “A loan? But how would Jude repay him? The farm doesn’t make a lot of money; I have seen the accounts,” said Darcy.

  “Precisely, and that is why I fear for him. Croker may offer him a loan on reasonable terms, but with a mortgage on the farm as surety.”

  Darcy leapt up. “Good God! That would certainly be the ruin of him,” he exclaimed. “My grandfather Mr Darcy persuaded my aunt Emily to put a codicil in her will that no part of the estate could be sold without the consent of at least two members of the family, but even he did not anticipate a situation such as this. Jude may not sell any part of it, but he can be tricked into a mortgage that will cost him everything. I can see now why you say it has to be stopped,” he said, and Robert’s relief was palpable.

  “And will you help me?”

  Darcy thought for a moment and nodded. “Yes, but I have to send a message to my wife, else she will worry that I am late. We are due to leave for London tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Is your carriage here?” asked Robert.

  “No, I rode into Matlock,” Darcy replied.

  Robert had a suggestion. “Well, let us go there first and allay your wife’s fears. We can go in my carriage. The landlord will surely let you stable your horse here overnight. One of my men will bring it over to you tomorrow morning.” Darcy agreed, and they left soon afterwards.

  When Darcy had given his wife a brief explanation of their mission, she was anxious and yet did not doubt that they were right; something had to be done. She was, however, much more hopeful that Jude was unlikely to sign any document without consulting his family.

  “He is a naïve and trusting young man, but he is no fool, and furthermore his wife is a good deal more practical than he is. I cannot believe she will let him do it,” she said confidently.

  Darcy and Robert travelled to Oakleigh Manor through darkness and driving rain. Neither man said very much, but both hoped they were not going to be too late. When they reached the farm, they found not only Jude and Teresa, but Mr Mancini and another man with them enjoying a bottle of wine. To say they were surprised to see their visitors would be an understatement, but they overcame their astonishment and invited Darcy and Robert to join them.

  The stranger was introduced as Teresa’s uncle Pasquale, recently arrived from Italy. He was a partner in Mr Mancini’s enterprise, Jude explained, adding that Signor Pasquale was interested in leasing some of their uncropped land to start an herb farm. This was all very well, but Darcy and Robert were impatient to discover what proposals they had received from Mr Croker that morning.

  It was Robert who asked, a little awkwardly, if they had had a visit from a Mr Wilson Croker. Jude and Teresa answered almost together. Yes, they said, he had been there, and indeed, Mrs Rose Gardiner had been with him, too, but she had not stayed long and Mr Croker had left soon afterwards. When the gentlemen seemed not to comprehend, Jude explained, “He wished only to have a look around the property and asked if I would consider selling some of the unused land for development. He admired the prospect from the top of the hill and talked of building houses for families who wished to move to the country. But when we explained that Teresa’s grandfather and uncle intended to expand their farming activities on our land and Teresa told him she was planning for us to start a pig farm, he appeared to lose interest in the idea, I think.”

  Darcy agreed that the prospect of building houses for the newly rich in close proximity to a pig farm might not have seemed as attractive as he had first thought. By this time Robert was beginning to look confused.

  “Do you mean to say Croker made no attempt to offer you a loan to help improve the home farm? You did tell me some time ago that you needed some capital to do just that…”

  “Ah yes, but that was before Teresa’s uncle Pasquale wrote to us and offered to lease some land for an herb farm. We agreed, of course. He will pay us in advance, and we intend to use that money to set up the piggery. That is all we need. Mr Croker made no mention of a loan, and we would not have been interested if he had. So it has worked out rather well.”

  “So it seems,” said Robert, nodding but still looking puzzled. After some convivial conversation and a glass or two of Mr Mancini’s wine to toast the success of the herb farm and the prospective piggery, Darcy suggested it was time to leave, reminding Robert that Kate and he were catching the train to London on the morrow.

  On the way back, Darcy’s mood was considerably lighter than Robert’s. He was relieved that there had after all been no real crisis to avert, no need to warn Jude about Croker or prevent him from signing a mortgage. In fact, it had all been a rather vexing waste of time and effort, and he wished with all his heart that he was back at home, out of this appalling weather. But he was sufficiently good-natured not to say so to his uncle Robert, who in view of the circumstances, was looking much less distressed than he might have done, had things turned out differently. Perhaps, thought young Darcy Gardiner, he had misjudged Robert; maybe he was weak and ineffectual, but he did have a conscience after all.

  Chapter Eight

  The weather worsened through the night, and Robert, reaching home rather late, found everyone except two footmen had gone to bed. After a cursory attempt at dinner, which consisted of more wine than meat, he went up to his room where he fell into bed and a deep sleep.

  Meanwhile, over a late dinner at home, Darcy Gardiner entertained his wife with the extraordinary story of his uncle’s attack of guilt and the farcical and wholly unnecessary attempt to save his cousin Jude from the clutches of Mr Croker.

  “For a while, he did convince me that there was a risk of Jude being gulled by Croker into accepting a loan, which of course, he could never repay, with all the evil consequences that would follow. My uncle was in a state of desperation like I have never seen before. I believe he felt he would be held responsible if things had gone awry and the property was mortgaged and lost. But we need not have been concerned; Jude is in excellent hands, his sensible wife and her Italian family would never let him take such a foolish step, and besides, he claims they had no need of such a large sum of money anyway. Mr Mancini and Uncle Pasquale have come to the rescue. You should have seen Robert’s face when they said that all they wanted was sufficient money to start up a piggery!”

  Kate laughed merrily. “Not the most salubrious site for modern mansions to accommodate Croker’s wealthy clients, then?”

  “No indeed,” said her husband. “I could almost see him reeling back from the prospect…”

  “And the smell!” added Kate as she enjoyed the likely embarrassment of the handsome man with the stylish hat she had seen in the company of Robert Gardiner not very long ago. “What is most difficult to believe is that your uncle Robert seems to have developed this conscience very late in the piece. There was no sign of it earlier. Did he admit to you that he had had any reservations about Mr Croker?” she asked.

  “He did not at any time,” Darcy replied. “It would appear his suspicions about the man deepened upon discovering that his wife was showing some interest in the deal. My uncle knows that Mrs Rose Gardiner has no great love for the Courtneys and feared that she may well have egged Croker on; the two are good friends apparently,” he offered as he drained his glass.

  His wife giggled. “Poor Mr Gardiner, that is not a happy situation, surely?”

  “I would not have thought so, but, my love, at least it is not a situation with which we need concern ourselves. Now that Jude and Oakleigh are safe, we can leave for London without any further anxiety on that subject.” So saying, her husband indicated that he was for bed.
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  * * *

  On the following morning, the debris of the storm lay everywhere, delaying everyone and everything, including the trains. Darcy and Kate were advised that a tree fallen across the tracks farther up the line had to be cleared before their train could leave. While they waited, their luggage all ready and loaded up into their carriage, Darcy remembered that his horse had been left overnight tethered in the stables at the Matlock Arms.

  “My uncle Robert did promise to send a man over to collect him for me; he must have forgotten all about it,” he said and was about to ask the steward to attend to it, when the horse, ridden by a young man from the Fitzwilliams’ stables, came into view, on the river road below them.

  He was riding hard and looked quite troubled when he came up to the house and dismounted, handing the horse over to a stable hand. Darcy moved to give him a couple of coins for his trouble, which the lad accepted gratefully, but not before he had apologised for being late.

  “I am sorry, sir. I was supposed to have got him early this morning, the master told me last night, but things have happened up at the house, and I could not get away,” he began to explain.

  Darcy interrupted him, “Oh I understand, the storm has done a lot of damage all across the district… I daresay there was much to be done clearing it away…”

  The lad nodded but said in a strained voice, “Yes, sir, there was that, sir, but I meant it was because of Miss Miranda… she has gone missing, sir.”

  “What? Miranda missing? What do you mean?”

  The lad looked as if he doubted whether he should say much, more and Darcy urged him on, “For heaven’s sake, Miranda is my cousin; you can tell me.”

  “Well, sir, I don’t know very much more, only that her maid went to her room this morning to take her tea and found her bed had not been slept in. She was nowhere to be found; they told Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and the place has been in uproar since then, sir.”

  Darcy was speechless, appalled by the prospect that while Robert and he had been off on some fruitless errand on the previous afternoon, Miranda might have been in grave danger, lost, hurt in an accident, kidnapped even.

  After the lad had left, Darcy went indoors and, finding Kate waiting in the sitting room, gave her the bad news. Her astonishment was not as great as he might have expected, but she did agree that it was indeed a serious matter. Miranda Gardiner’s escapades had not gone unnoticed within the family, and while Kate respected her husband’s concern for his young cousin, she was not as anxious as he was for her safety. However, she was too sensible of his feelings to say anything contrary.

  “Did you wish to postpone our journey and perhaps offer to help Robert look for her?” she asked gently.

  But Darcy wasn’t sure. “No, it is very unlikely that my help, if I were to offer it, would be welcome. Robert’s wife and her parents are all exceedingly clannish, unwilling to take anyone into their confidence. They may wish to keep this whole business quiet until Miranda is found. If my uncle had thought to ask for my help, I would certainly have gone, but I do not feel I ought to interfere. I should feel awkward… we do not know yet what has happened. It is possible she may have already been found safe and well.”

  Although Kate felt somewhat uneasy about travelling to London in the circumstances, Darcy did point out that he had important appointments at Westminster and it was best that they continue with their plans.

  “I have made promises to Colin Elliott and others, which I must keep. But I should like to call on my parents before we leave and inform them of what has happened,” he said, and Kate agreed at once.

  When they arrived at Camden House, Darcy’s mother came out to greet them. In her hand was a note that had been delivered earlier that morning. It was from Robert to his brother Dr Richard Gardiner, asking that he come immediately, because his father-in-law, Sir James Fitzwilliam, had suffered what seemed like a heart attack. The note had been hastily penned, and there was no mention of Miranda.

  “Your father went at once, of course,” Cassandra said, and it was clear to them that she knew nothing of Miranda’s disappearance. “I cannot think what could have brought this on…”

  Darcy put an arm around his mother and, as they moved indoors, told her the news they had heard just a short while ago. Cassy stood still, as if petrified, a hand to her mouth. When she spoke, she sounded strained and shocked.

  “Good God, this is dreadful news. Sir James and his wife adore Miranda. I am no longer surprised that he has suffered a heart attack. Poor Robert, how must he feel?”

  Darcy and Kate told her all they knew; they could not stay long, not even to take tea, but left promising to write and begged her to send them any news by electric telegraph, which Cassy promised to do every day. As they drove away, Kate turned and saw Cassandra standing at the entrance, shaking her head, still unable to believe what she had heard.

  * * *

  It was raining when they arrived in London, hours later than expected. They took a hansom cab to the house in Portman Square. Darcy had looked forward to this time as the culmination of a long-fought campaign for a Public Education Bill, which Mr Gladstone had promised them at the election. It was to be presented to the Parliament at last. Kate disliked London, especially in the rain. She hated the puddles, the dirty roads, and the smells, and longed to be indoors. She was tired too and, on reaching the house, went directly upstairs to rest and change.

  There were two messages for them on the table in the hall. One was from Colin Elliot MP, confirming Darcy’s appointment for the following day at Westminster; the other was a note from Becky, informing them that she and Mr Contini were in London staying with his uncle and aunt at Grosvenor Street. They looked forward to meeting Darcy and Kate, she said, promising to call on them very soon.

  Darcy took them up to his wife, recalling for her benefit that his own involvement in Mr Gladstone’s political campaign had been supported by Becky and her late husband, Mr Tate.

  “Anthony Tate was a dedicated campaigner for public education, using every opportunity to promote the cause through his newspapers and journals. Becky was his secret weapon; she was eloquent and charming and very persuasive,” he explained. “She must be very proud of their achievement.”

  “It seems a great pity that Mr Tate did not live to see the bill presented to Parliament,” said Kate, and Darcy agreed that it was, but added, “Though if you look at it through Becky’s eyes, he did treat her pretty badly after all the years she had spent working for his causes. My grandmother Mrs Darcy told me last Christmas that Mr Tate had been quite unfair to Becky. He did leave her plenty of money in his will, but she must have Jonathan Bingley’s approval to use any of it!”

  Kate seemed shocked. “Poor Becky, what an uncomfortable situation! Are they good friends?”

  “I believe they are. I understand Jonathan and Mr Contini were at school together. That should help,” said Darcy, adding, “Which is why I doubt that she has too many regrets about Mr Tate’s demise, and of course, they had lived apart for some time before his death.”

  They were resting before dressing for dinner; Kate was so weary she kept falling asleep, but sat up suddenly when a maid knocked on the door with a message addressed to Darcy. It had been sent by electric telegraph from Derbyshire. Darcy tore it open. It was from his mother, and it was brief.

  This is to allay your fears about your cousin Miranda. There has been some good news; she is alive, and we hope she is well. However, there is bad news too. Sir James has not recovered consciousness, and your papa fears he may be past recovery. I shall write express tomorrow if more information comes to hand.

  Darcy handed the message to his wife. “It does not tell us very much, but at least it is good to know that Miranda is safe,” she remarked.

  “Mama says nothing about her being safe, simply that she is alive,” Darcy warned, and Kate was aghast.

  “Oh no, Darcy,” she protested. “You cannot believe that.”

  “Well, my love, I certainl
y hope Miranda is safe; we shall have to wait a day or two to find out,” he said, “but with that family, I do believe anything is possible. Mrs Darcy says that Miranda has been so thoroughly spoilt, indulged by her grandparents and her parents, that her judgment is quite confounded.”

  When his wife appeared sceptical, Darcy went further. “This is not generally known, dearest, except to a few members of the family, but Rose Fitzwilliam, when she was very young and beautiful, fell in love with and became engaged to a man—a physician, I believe—who subsequently died while working somewhere in Africa. I am not aware of all the details, but it is said that Rose almost died of shock and sorrow, and for many years lived like a recluse, meeting no one, riding in the woods alone for hours each day. During this time, her parents were so afraid that she would die or even take her own life, they denied her nothing, let her do whatever she pleased. Well, one day, she met my uncle Robert and decided, quite suddenly, that she wanted to marry him. Presumably, they agreed, and of course, he, stunned by the fact that she had accepted him, did exactly the same as her parents had done—indulged her every whim.”

  “Which was probably the very worst thing for Rose,” said Kate.

  “Indeed, so with no one to guide her and no one to say nay, she did whatever she pleased. And when young Miranda came along…”

  “It was the same all over again?” Kate suggested.

  Darcy sighed and said, “You are absolutely right, my love, and the result?”

  “Like mother like daughter.”

  “Precisely. What is worse, they dislike each other intensely and will do anything to get away from one another.”