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

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  “Oh dear, now I see what you mean about Miranda’s judgment. It cannot have been improved in such circumstances.”

  “Improved? I would say it is practically nonexistent,” said Darcy, adding ominously, “As for the consequences of all this, we shall have to wait awhile to discover the truth. I should not be at all surprised to hear that young Miranda has become involved in some silly escapade.”

  * * *

  On the day following, Darcy left early for his appointment with Colin Elliott at Westminster. He arrived in an optimistic mood, looking forward to seeing the fulfilment of a long-held hope.

  Growing up in and around Pemberley, he had been aware of the need for public education. He knew intimately many of those families who had neither the means nor the influence to have their children taught by good teachers in proper schools. Darcy had played cricket with young men, and his mother and grandmother had in their employ young women, who but for their lack of schooling could have aspired to much better situations.

  His grandparents, aunts, and cousins, like Kitty Bennet and Becky Tate, had been involved in setting up and running the small parish schools at Kympton and Pemberley, providing schooling, particularly for girls from the villages within the estate. Yet all these schools depended upon the uncertain benevolence of individual landlords and the dedicated work of women like Kate and Jessica. The government spent little or nothing on public education.

  Now, he thought, with the new Public Education Bill, all that was about to change, and Darcy knew that Becky too would be feeling a similar sense of excitement and satisfaction. Becky and her late husband, Anthony Tate, had been assiduous in their pursuit of local councillors and members of Parliament in order to press upon them the importance of their belief that a better educated populace would make better citizens for Britain in a world where knowledge was fast becoming the essential currency in a growing marketplace of ideas and inventions.

  On his arrival at Westminster, Colin Elliott greeted him cheerfully enough, but Darcy was surprised that he did not appear as triumphant as he had expected him to be. Perhaps, he thought, being a member of the government of Mr Gladstone, Mr Elliott had become more sanguine as he grew accustomed to the success of their campaign. The truth, however, as Darcy was soon to discover, was somewhat different. Compromise, that vital ingredient of political negotiation, had produced a contentious result.

  Returning to Portman Place later that day, he could not hide his bitter disappointment. Kate, sensing immediately that something was wrong, asked, “Darcy? You don’t look at all happy. I expected you to come through the door singing. Dearest, what is it? Did you not meet Mr Elliott?”

  “Oh, I met Mr Elliott all right,” he said, and she was confused.

  “Well then? Did you get to see the bill?”

  “Oh no, I shan’t get to see it until after it is presented to the Parliament, but there is no need, I already know what is in it,” he replied.

  “And…?”

  “And, my love, it is nothing like the Public Education Bill we campaigned for and were promised by Mr Gladstone. It does not provide for free public education funded by the government at all. Instead it is a collection of ideas drawn from several sources—principally from the National Education Union, which demands that more public money be given to the church schools, so they can continue to provide instruction as they do now with little or no direction. It will do very little to improve the chances of the poor. It is so disappointing, Kate, I cannot believe that we have been so badly betrayed.”

  Kate tried to comfort him. “It cannot be that bad, Darcy, surely?”

  “It can and it is. Wait until Becky hears about this; she will be very angry.”

  Mention of Becky reminded Kate, “Becky and Mr Contini called while you were out. I have asked them to join us for dinner this evening. I had hoped there would be something to celebrate. I am sorry the political news is not so good, but in truth, there is some other news that might perhaps please you a little more.”

  Darcy looked interested. “Has there been more news from Mama about Miranda?” he asked.

  Kate shook her head. “No, but I have some news for you,” she said, and as he listened, his face lighting up with joy, she told him she was going to have a child.

  She had not imagined that he could change so completely in a matter of seconds and was astonished as he gathered her into his arms in a warm embrace and held her close.

  “Dearest Kate, are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yes, I am now. I had confided in your mother, and she advised that I see Doctor Tilney when in London. Well, he called today and has confirmed it,” she said, and it was quite apparent that Darcy’s disappointment with the Public Education Bill would soon be eclipsed by the intensity of their shared delight in this good news.

  * * *

  When Mr and Mrs Contini arrived for dinner that evening, Darcy gave them the disagreeable news first, allowing Becky sufficient time to express her aggravation and disappointment, even a sense of betrayal, before Kate drew her aside and gave her the news, which considerably improved Becky’s mood.

  For all her aspirations, Becky was a realist and had learned to value personal happiness above public achievement. No amount of satisfaction at the gains they had made together in public life would ever make up for the coldness that had destroyed her intimate relationship with Mr Tate after the death of their daughter, Josie. Hearing Kate’s happy news, she embraced and congratulated her with genuine warmth and urged her not to let Darcy waste any time on regret and disappointment over the Education Bill.

  “He, more than anyone else I know, has worked hard for this cause. He can have the satisfaction of knowing, as I do, that without that effort, there would have been no bill, no money for public education at all, and no chance of any schooling for the children of England’s poor. Much has been achieved. Dear Kate, do not let him waste the next few weeks and months on fruitless argument and recriminations. You must draw him into enjoying what is to come for both of you in the future, rather than hankering after some political goal, which lies outside his control.”

  Kate agreed, but pointed out that from her own knowledge of her husband, she knew he would be deeply disappointed by the Education Bill. “Of course he will—so am I and so will all thinking people be, who supported Mr Gladstone, believing his promise,” said Becky, “but, my dear Kate, it is as nothing when compared to the great joy that your child will bring into your lives, and it is upon that you must concentrate his mind.”

  They went into dinner, and despite the initial disappointment, the excellent food, wine, and good company raised their spirits. Both couples found plenty of matters to discuss and, in doing so, discovered that they were agreed upon many of them. Consequently, they were in a far more buoyant mood when they withdrew to the drawing room. Sweets, tea, and coffee were being served and enjoyed, when the doorbell rang and a servant brought in an express letter for Darcy. It was from his mother. Cassandra had been as good as her word and was writing to apprise them of the most recent news received regarding young Miranda Gardiner. Darcy excused himself and withdrew to read his letter in private. She wrote:

  My dearest Darcy and Kate,

  Since my last message, circumstances have changed. Let me hasten to assure you, lest you are alarmed at my words, that Miranda Gardiner is, as I told you then, alive and unhurt. There has been no accident, as we had feared. That is the good news and indeed the only good news we have received.

  Your father has been at his brother’s side all day, helping to discover the truth or otherwise of a variety of rumours and attempting in the midst of all this chaos to do something for Sir James, who sadly has sunk deeper into a coma and is unlikely to survive this night.

  While that is bad news, it is not yet the worst, for that was still to come. When your father returned last night, he brought us the news that had arrived at the Fitzwilliams’ place a couple of hours earlier. I am writing at once with the hope that this letter will reac
h you by nightfall tomorrow.

  I am so shocked I can scarcely believe it as I write, but Miranda Gardiner has eloped with Mr Wilson Croker. They are gone to Scotland, and if Miranda’s letter to her parents is to be believed, they are to be married on the morrow.

  Your father says he felt only a sense of relief. He was more shocked by the unfeeling arrogance of Miranda’s letter than by her actions. However, he says, Robert and, even more particularly, Rose are in utter turmoil. Robert’s wish was apparently to send someone after them, but to what end? Your father had advised against it. Rose had been in hysterics, and her mother, Lady Fitzwilliam, had followed suit. Richard says they have both withdrawn to their rooms to bemoan the marriage, for which they blame poor Robert, who introduced Mr Croker to the family! They hold him responsible and claim that if Robert had not befriended Mr Croker, nothing would have occurred. Richard believes differently.

  There is, at this stage, not a great deal more to tell, so I shall close and despatch this letter by express. Should anything further occur, I shall write again.

  Cassy concluded with her love and did not forget to ask particularly after Kate’s health, without specifically mentioning the reason for her enquiry. With the knowledge he had now, Darcy understood the purpose of her question.

  Returning to the drawing room, Darcy handed Kate the letter and said, “I think while you read it, Kate, I will inform Becky and Mr Contini of the substance of Mama’s letter and the circumstances in which it has been written. It is unlikely that anything can be done to reverse the events that have occurred, so there is no point in trying to conceal them. Besides, I am quite sure Becky will find the information quite interesting, in the light of certain events that have taken place previously.”

  Both Becky and her husband looked understandably puzzled, but as Kate moved to sit beside the light in order to make out the writing better, Darcy related some of what had taken place over the last few days in Derbyshire. There was no doubting his sense of shock as he told the tale, not by condemning any of the participants, but without attempting in any way to conceal the responsibility of each one of them.

  When Kate, having read the letter, rejoined the company, she looked a little pale as she handed the letter to Becky so she might read it herself. There was no doubt Kate was appalled at what had happened.

  “I cannot believe that Miranda, who is not by any means an unintelligent girl, could have become involved in such an escapade. She cannot have had a very long acquaintance with this man, yet she has taken such a step; surely, she must know that whatever the final outcome of this, she must live with the consequences for the rest of her life,” she said gravely.

  Becky, having perused Cassandra’s letter quickly, handed it back to Darcy. “Indeed she must, and so must her mother, her father, and her grandparents, who have indulged her all her life. There is yet another consequence that will follow from this. Just think, whatever good or bad comes of this for young Miranda, neither Rose Gardiner nor her parents will ever be able to speak disparagingly of any other family in the county, nor will they be able to use their position and influence to belittle other people’s children, as they have done before, and that is not such a bad result. Do you not agree?” she said quietly. They did agree; indeed, as Darcy pointed out, it was a statement with which it was quite impossible to disagree.

  Chapter Nine

  On the day following, Darcy Gardiner, using the information on the card William Courtney had given him when they had met at Pemberley, went round to call on his distinguished cousin. The apartment, in a fashionable part of the city renowned for accommodating celebrated artists and musicians, was not difficult to find, and on being admitted, Darcy was shown into a sunny morning room, where stood a very grand pianoforte. Beside a window was a table, set for breakfast at one end and laden with printed scores and handwritten sheets of music at the other. Clearly, it was the room where William worked, thought Darcy, as he waited for him.

  When the door opened and William walked in, Darcy was surprised at how much brighter and more youthful he appeared than when they had last met, but surmised that it must have been because it was not long after Mrs Courtney’s funeral. Darcy’s mother had remarked at how sombre, almost melancholy, William had seemed at the reading of the will, in anticipation, she thought, of criticism from the rest of the family.

  Yet today he appeared most genial as he greeted Darcy and asked after the health of his wife and his parents. Having offered him coffee or tea, according to his preference, William explained that having already received Darcy’s letter, he had made arrangements to obtain for them tickets to a concert on the Saturday following.

  “I do hope you will enjoy the programme. It is mostly French and German music, but there are a couple of English compositions, too, which I try to include to keep our patriotic audiences happy,” he said, as he handed Darcy the tickets, adding, “They are quite good seats, I am told.”

  Darcy was exceedingly grateful; he had not expected William to go to the trouble of getting the tickets and asked if he could pay for them, but his cousin waved away his offer.

  “Certainly not, Darcy, the pleasure is mine; it isn’t often that members of my family travel to London to attend one of my concerts. Oh, I know you are also here on parliamentary business, but I shall be delighted to have you and Mrs Gardiner in the audience on Saturday. I hope your wife will like the music I have chosen and the performances, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Darcy quickly, explaining that he was very sure Kate would, being an accomplished pianist herself and knowing a great deal more about music than he did. “And I shall have to rely on her excellent taste and knowledge to guide me through the programme,” he added.

  William laughed and reassured his cousin that the Saturday afternoon concert was a popular event and the programme was not meant to overawe the audience. “Indeed, it is meant particularly to please and entertain,” he said, and Darcy was comprehensively charmed; he could scarcely believe this was the same man his family disapproved of so thoroughly. On his return to Portman Square, he found a note waiting for him from Colin Elliott, inviting him to attend the sittings of Parliament during the presentation of the Education Bill. He wrote:

  I have had a seat reserved for you, and if Mrs Gardiner also wishes to attend, I could arrange for Anne-Marie to take her into the Ladies’ Gallery. I expect Mrs Contini may be there also. Darcy, I wish to place on record my own and the government’s appreciation of the exceedingly valuable work you have done to further this great cause over several years.

  Darcy, though pleased to be so highly commended, was not entirely mollified and did not send an immediate response, wishing to consult his wife before doing so. He could not help a feeling of resentment, not against Colin Elliott, whom he generally held in high esteem, but at the cavalier fashion in which the government of Mr Gladstone had reneged on one of its most significant promises. Darcy Gardiner, who had grown up under the tutelage of his distinguished grandfather, Fitzwilliam Darcy, had been taught to value integrity and the worth of a gentleman’s word. He found it difficult to accept that politicians, who aspired to the highest public office in the land, could so easily slide out of promises given to the people.

  Consequently, he did not wish to attend the Parliament, but neither did he want to offend Mr Elliott and Anne-Marie by turning down the invitation. His father, Doctor Richard Gardiner, had instilled in him the importance of not causing offence to men of influence.

  “They often control the purse strings of government and business organisations that we may need to use in order to help the poor. If you offend them, they are more likely to remember you, and when you seek their help for some worthwhile project, they will turn you down. There is no sense in it, is there?” he had said, and Darcy understood exactly what he meant. Doctor Gardiner had had many unhappy encounters with local councillors himself.

  When Kate returned from the shops, Darcy showed her Colin Elliott’s note, and her response, becau
se it solved all his problems, absolutely delighted him. Handing back the note, she said, “Oh dear, how very unfortunate; it is the very same day on which Becky and Mr Contini are going down to Richmond, and we have been invited to join them. We are all asked to dine with Signor and Signora Contini at their villa above the river. The Continis, Becky informs me, have long been patrons of the arts, and can you guess who is to be the chief guest on the evening?”

  Darcy could not think who it could be, he said. Kate’s eyes danced as she prolonged the moment and then said, “It’s the distinguished conductor William Courtney, who is just finishing a series of concerts in London and leaves for Vienna at the end of the month. Now, what do you say to that?”

  Darcy was amazed. It was such a happy coincidence. “And have you accepted for both of us?” he asked eagerly.

  “Indeed I have. I knew we had no other engagements on that day, and I was sure you would not wish to miss the opportunity.”

  Darcy put his arms around his wife. “My dearest Kate, you have saved me from a most uncomfortable situation,” he said and explained his own reluctance to attend the Parliament on the day.

  “I should hate to have to refuse Mr Elliott’s invitation for fear of offending him, but this way, if we have a prior engagement…”

  “And such an engagement as this?” she added.

  “Indeed, there can surely be no offence taken?”

  “None at all, I can guarantee it,” she concluded, and they embraced with relief.

  Darcy then proceeded to give her his good news concerning the tickets for Saturday’s concert, which only increased her pleasure.

  “I can hardly wait to write to my mother,” said Darcy. “William has been persona non grata for years; most members of the family have scarcely seen him except at the occasional wedding or funeral, and here we are, meeting him, attending his concert after which he has invited us to call on him in his dressing room. Then, a few days later, we shall be dining with him at the Continis’. I cannot believe it is happening, and, Kate, this morning, I was afraid he might be annoyed at my calling so early, but he was utterly amiable and welcoming. I believe if I had stayed any longer, he would have insisted that I had breakfast with him!”