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

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  By the time she went back to her bedroom, Mr Darcy had concluded that Virginia must have accepted Caroline’s invitation, which was why Lizzie was taking so long with Georgiana. They were probably making plans, he thought, and when he saw her smiling face, he knew he was right.

  At first, she was bewildered and demanded to be told how he knew, but she soon abandoned that question in favour of telling him all the good news.

  “You will let her have the small carriage for the journey, will you not, my dear?” she asked, and he laughed.

  “Lizzie my love, she can have two carriages if you wish it: one for herself, to ride in state, and one to transport her maid and luggage. If Georgiana and you can assure me that Virginia is going to stay at Matlock and not return within twenty-four hours, I may send a couple of grooms on horseback to escort her on the journey! How do you think she will like that, Lizzie?”

  Elizabeth laughed; he was teasing her, and she knew it, but it was such a welcome change from the grave, almost dour mood into which Mr Darcy had fallen since Georgiana and her ill-tempered daughter had arrived at Pemberley, that she was delighted.

  At least, she thought, she would have her husband and family to herself in an atmosphere of pleasant and convivial hospitality for which Pemberley, certainly since her marriage to Mr Darcy, was renowned.

  Elizabeth was delighted with the achievements of the day and gave thanks for the generosity of Caroline and Rachel.

  * * *

  At Matlock, arrangements were afoot to accommodate Miss Grantley. What had been undertaken as a duty, a mission to rescue poor Amy and Frank, was taking on the proportions and gravity of a military operation.

  Caroline and Rachel had commandeered all the servants except the cook, who was under strict orders to provide the best possible dinner, to clean, air, and make up not one but two bedrooms for Virginia’s use. The finest linen, the softest pillows, and the warmest eiderdown were all pressed into service to induce Virginia Grantley to enjoy her stay.

  When, on the day following, she arrived, complete with her maid and a manservant from Pemberley to carry her many trunks and boxes up to her rooms, Caroline and Rachel greeted her warmly.

  They hoped she was going to enjoy her time with them, Caroline said, to which Virginia replied she was quite sure she would, because Mama had said they didn’t have all those insufferable house rules like Mr and Mrs Darcy imposed upon their visitors at Pemberley.

  Caroline raised her eyebrows, but Rachel intervened very quickly, before her mother could say a single word.

  “We do have one rule, but it’s really for the sake of the farm animals. No one is allowed to go through the gate, down to the lower meadow, because the sheep can get quite angry and it would not be safe for any of us to be in there among an irate mob of sheep,” she explained reasonably, and Virginia replied that she had no desire whatsoever to go in among some silly sheep, angry or not, so that particular rule would not bother her at all.

  Entering the house and proceeding upstairs to the rooms that had been prepared for her, it was clear that Virginia was somewhat bemused. Unaccustomed to being treated with gentle courtesy, mainly on account of her own unfriendly disposition, a fact that she did not care to admit, Virginia was finding it difficult to comprehend her new situation, but on seeing her tastefully appointed rooms, she turned to Rachel, who had accompanied her, and said a remarkably gracious thank you.

  Going to the window, she looked out across to the foothills of the peaks and said, “This is so pretty, I know I am going to enjoy my stay here.”

  Rachel, leaving Virginia and her maid to unpack, flew downstairs to report to her mother that they had passed the first test. The accommodation and the view were acceptable!

  Later, having taken tea in her room and rested for a couple of hours, Virginia came downstairs suitably attired for the evening, and Caroline was very glad that cook had produced a delicious meal.

  Perhaps it was the fact that neither she nor Caroline had any intimate knowledge of one another, which made it simpler to be pleasant, or it might have been the softness of Rachel’s nature that smoothed the rough patches and sharp edges of each situation. Whatever it was, the day passed without any unpleasantness and much hope that their carefully laid plans had worked. It did seem that Miss Virginia Grantley would stay.

  Caroline had been determined that she would do everything possible to ensure that Virginia would feel welcome, and she had succeeded.

  It was with immense relief that she retired to her room that night, the room she had shared with the husband whom she had loved as a girl, even before she knew what it was to be in love. Only in the privacy of her room would she give in to the feelings of utter loneliness that assailed her.

  Rachel heard her mother sobbing in the night.

  Surrendering her own bedroom to their visitor, she had moved into the small dressing room next to Caroline’s room, and as soon as she heard the sounds of her grief, she leapt out of bed and came quickly to her mother’s bedside.

  It was not the first time and it would not be the last that she would come to her and they would weep together and comfort each other. Only Rachel, of all Caroline’s family, knew how deeply she suffered the loss of her husband.

  * * *

  On the morrow, Virginia slept late and took her breakfast in her room, but when she was ready to come downstairs, she found Rachel waiting for her.

  “What would you like to do today?” she asked brightly, and Virginia, surprised again, responded that she would like to look around the farm.

  “I promise not to invade the lower meadow and upset the sheep,” she said, and Rachel could have sworn there was a hint of humour in her voice.

  “In which case, you will need to borrow a pair of my boots; those pretty shoes will soon be ruined if you were to walk around the farm in them,” she warned, and having provided Virginia with the requisite footwear, she pulled on her own well-worn boots and they set off along the path leading to the river, which formed the boundary of the property.

  Seeing them go, Caroline smiled and wished she had the skill to sketch the two contrasting figures walking briskly down the path.

  Although both young women were almost the same age, Virginia, being taller and more amply endowed, appeared the older of the two. Rachel, smaller and more delicately built, was in her mother’s biased eyes the prettier. As to their dispositions, well, there was no comparison; yet they seemed to get on well enough, for by the time they returned from their tour of the property, clearly tired and hungry, they were talking like old acquaintances.

  Caroline would have liked to visit Elizabeth and tell her everything, but unwilling to leave Rachel to look after their guest alone, she had to be content with writing a letter, which was carried by a servant to Pemberley later that week.

  Dearest Lizzie,

  It is now three whole days since Virginia Grantley came to stay with us, and I am writing to tell you of the extraordinary circumstances in which we find ourselves.

  First, let me say that to our considerable relief, Miss Grantley was delighted with the accommodation prepared for her. She has both Isabella’s room and the one adjoining, which my dear Rachel gave up heroically so that Virginia and her maid may be comfortably accommodated.

  The two of them have struck up what I am not yet willing to call a friendship, but it has all the signs of becoming a connection that may well benefit Virginia, who appears to me to be a singularly friendless young woman.

  It is not immediately apparent if there is a genuine change in Virginia or if she is playacting to suit her present circumstances. Whichever it is, though she continues to be demanding, she is never rude, and whilst she speaks her mind very decidedly, I have noticed that she also listens whenever Rachel answers one of her innumerable questions. Contrary to my first impression, she is not lazy, and while she undertakes no real work, she seems quite ready to join Rachel in many of her activities. This afternoon, they are off to sketch the strange rocks on the far
side of High Tor.

  Dear Lizzie, whether this is the result of our simple hospitality or my daughter’s disarming openness, I cannot tell, and indeed, I believe it would not matter, because at least it has given both Amy and Georgiana some respite from the strains they suffered before. More importantly, it has allowed Virginia to be something other than the hurtful, obnoxious creature she had become with her own family.

  Elizabeth lost no time at all in finding her husband and showing him Caroline’s letter, and his astonishment was no less than hers had been.

  He read the note through twice and sat down before saying with a sigh, “So it seems I was wrong, Lizzie. There was no need for Caroline to set her down. Virginia has been able to recognise Caroline’s generosity and Rachel’s genuine goodness and has decided quite deliberately that she has nothing to gain and everything to lose by disrupting this idyllic situation.

  “No doubt she is enjoying the attention and their hospitality; it is still possible that boredom could set in and she may not be as amenable or as easy to please, but at least for now, Caroline’s plan has been a complete triumph!”

  Elizabeth agreed and expressed her sadness that she could not show the letter to Georgiana; she feared her sister-in-law may be offended by Caroline’s frankness.

  However, when they met later that evening before dinner, Georgiana revealed that she had received a note from Virginia, which she was happy to pass around for her brother and sister-in-law to read.

  While it had none of the interesting detail that Caroline’s had contained, the fact that Virginia had put pen to paper to tell her mother that she was enjoying her stay at Matlock was remarkable in itself. She wrote:

  Mrs Fitzwilliam is most hospitable, and Rachel is the most artless person I have ever met. She lacks any pretence and speaks only the truth, which makes her a very easy person to get on with.

  We have talked of books and music (Mrs Fitzwilliam has a wonderful old piano with the sweetest tone), sheep, geese, and rabbits and have spent two afternoons sketching the peaks, which may be viewed quite easily from here.

  If the weather is suitable, we may attempt to go farther afield to a place called Dovedale, which I am assured is not to be missed, but we may only go if Mrs Fitzwilliam is free to accompany us, for she will not permit two young women to travel there unaccompanied.

  Mama, I think I should like to continue here for a further week at least, if Mrs Fitzwilliam has no objection…

  Both Mr Darcy and Elizabeth expressed their delight at the tone and content of the letter, and Georgiana could not hide her relief.

  Afterwards, when they had finished dinner and withdrawn to the drawing room, she moved, without any prompting, to the grand piano and began to play. It was the first time she had done so willingly since Dr Grantley had been taken ill several months ago.

  Chapter Five

  The arrival of Mr Daniel Faulkner in Derbyshire was announced in a letter containing an invitation to a dinner party and ball at Ashford Park.

  Daniel, the son of Dr Faulkner and Maria Lucas and brother of Jonathan Bingley’s wife, Anna, had returned to England after almost twenty years in the distant antipodean colonies of New South Wales and Victoria. It was an appropriate occasion for one of Mr and Mrs Bingley’s social assemblies, for which Ashford Park was quite well known.

  Daniel’s family, and in particular his mother, had almost given up hope of ever seeing him again, believing that Daniel had set his roots so deeply in the alien soil of the Great South Land that he would have no desire to live in England again. When a letter had arrived disclosing his intention to visit his family and spend some months in England, they had all been quite incredulous.

  Mrs Faulkner had sent a servant with a note summoning her daughter Anna to Haye Park, so she might see her brother’s letter to his parents. Her mother’s excitement was so great that Anna had had to beg her not to become too agitated, lest she should suffer palpitations and fall ill. But Maria Faulkner, by now in tears from having read her son’s letter out loud for about the fifth time, was not capable of moderate emotion on this day. After some twenty years, her only son was returning home, and no one could reasonably expect her to be restrained in her joy.

  “Just think, my dear child, your brother left these shores when he was not yet twenty-five, and now he is returning twenty years later. He will be almost forty-five years old. Can you believe it?”

  Anna could and did believe it; it was a simple calculation which she had already made on reading his letter. Her mother expressed amazement that Daniel, who had sailed for New South Wales as a very young man with no prospects and hardly any money, was returning to England by all reports a mature and wealthy gentleman.

  “But I do wonder at his not being married again; perhaps he is coming to England to find himself another wife,” she said hopefully, and once again, Anna had to persuade her not to become too enthusiastic about the prospect.

  “We cannot know that, Mama; perhaps he is engaged already or maybe he has decided against marrying again. Life out there in the distant colonies can be very difficult, especially for a young woman,” she argued.

  They knew very little of Daniel Faulkner’s life in the antipodes, except by hearsay. While his own infrequent letters had been modest about his achievements, they had heard from others who had returned to England reports of his success; it was said he had made a fortune first in the gold rush and later by investing his money successfully in the wool trade.

  There was also the sad circumstance of his wife’s untimely death.

  He had married a young woman, of whom he had written that she was the “loveliest looking girl in the colony of Victoria,” but then, a few years later, she had died in childbirth, and their child, a boy, was being cared for and educated by his late wife’s parents in a place called Ballarat, of which the Faulkners knew nothing at all, except it was on the other side of the globe and gold had been found there!

  “He says nothing of the boy; do you suppose he will be with him?” Mrs Faulkner asked.

  Anna tried once more to calm her mother’s expectations.

  “That is very unlikely, Mama; the boy must be at school, surely, and his grandparents will not take kindly to the idea of him being dragged away on a long and hazardous voyage to England.”

  After much discussion, a conclusion was reached that Jonathan Bingley would send a carriage to meet Daniel Faulkner and convey him to Netherfield Park. It had been Jonathan’s idea for Daniel to arrive first at Netherfield and proceed to visit his parents at Haye Park, outside Meryton, on the following morning. Dr Faulkner had been recently unwell, and Jonathan, knowing how excited Mrs Faulkner could become, feared it would be too much of a strain for her husband. Anna, knowing her mother’s state of mind, had agreed and was glad to have the time to get acquainted with Daniel before they went on to Haye Park.

  She was especially eager to meet her brother, of whom she remembered little and had heard even less. When finally he arrived at Netherfield in the late afternoon, after a seemingly interminable voyage and half a day’s journey by road, Anna could not bring herself to go out to greet him. She watched from a window as he alighted from the carriage and Jonathan went to welcome him. She caught her breath as she saw a tall, slim, distinguished-looking man come swiftly up the steps to shake her husband’s hand; then when she ran downstairs to meet him, there was no need for introductions, and he enfolded her in his arms as she wept.

  Later, he was grudgingly allowed an hour or so to bathe, rest, and change before he was in their midst again, meeting Jonathan and Anna’s children and enjoying a meal of fresh food and garden produce for the first time in many months. Everyone was eager to ply him with food and wine and ask him questions about his journey, especially his two lively young nephews Nicholas and Simon, who, though young, were very curious about their new uncle of whom they had heard so much in the last few weeks; and though he was clearly tired, he was not averse to satisfying their curiosity.

  The follow
ing afternoon, to the absolute delight of his parents, Daniel drove over to Haye Park alone for a private reunion, giving them time to indulge in every emotion and satisfy most of their curiosity about their son, before the rest of the family joined them for dinner.

  Daniel Faulkner, if he was, as rumour had it, a wealthy man, did not seem to fit the role at all. He was too open and unwary, too happy to answer questions about himself and the life he had led in Australia, not sufficiently suave or vain. He had been handsome in his youth, and his features remained strikingly good, although the harsh Australian climate had taken its toll upon his skin, which was tanned and lined, and while his fingernails were clean and trimmed, his hands were hard and rough. One could travel far in England to find a businessman bearing such clear physical evidence of hard work.

  His manner, too, lacked pretentiousness and self-importance, which characterised most of the newly rich captains of industry. He spoke softly and, whenever he was asked a question, which was often, answered it with a degree of frankness and clarity that surprised them all.

  Most remarkable, for Anna, was his willingness to spend time with their aging parents. He would talk for hours with Dr Faulkner, who, though he was a great reader of books, had never travelled outside of Europe and so had a myriad of questions for his son about the strange places and people he had seen. When he had satisfied his father’s curiosity, he would seek out his mother or his sister and yield without complaint to their desire to lavish upon him the affection and care they had not been able to provide for twenty years, never complaining of his mother’s fussing or his sister’s interest in his well-being.

  “He is so patient and kind with both Mama and my father, I am amazed,” Anna said to her husband when they were back at Netherfield one night. “He is uncomplaining and gentle with the children, like a man who has had a large family, yet he has had but one son. Oh Jonathan, I am so very glad he is my brother and has come back so my dear parents and you and I and the children can know him as he is, rather than hear of some person of whom we know nothing, but that he is successful and wealthy.”