As they made their way upstairs, Rachel asked in a whisper, “What has happened, Mama? Why is Mrs Grantley here?”
Caroline answered quickly, “Nothing has happened. Georgiana wished to see Virginia, surely that is not so surprising, considering she did not attend the cricket at Camden Park on Sunday.”
At that, Rachel exclaimed, “Speaking of cricket, Mama, can you guess who else was at the bookshop in Matlock?”
“I cannot. Who was it?” asked Caroline.
Rachel smiled an arch sort of smile and said, “Anna Bingley and her brother, Mr Daniel Faulkner!”
Caroline looked a little surprised, as Rachel chattered on, “I think Mrs Bingley was choosing books for Nicholas; she asked me if I had read Great Expectations, but, Mama, you will never guess which book Mr Faulkner was buying!”
Caroline looked puzzled, and Rachel laughed and said, “It was the Book of Common Prayer! Now what do you say to that?”
Her mother shook her head in exasperation; she’d had quite enough of curious surprises for one day. She could not make it out at all.
By the time Caroline and Rachel came downstairs, Virginia, having partaken of an ample afternoon tea, had fallen fast sleep in the armchair beside the fire and Georgiana was preparing to leave. As she kissed Caroline goodbye, Georgiana whispered in her ear, “Thank you for being so patient and listening to me. I value your advice very much indeed,” and then, as she entered the carriage that stood waiting, she said, “And please, not a word to Virginia or Rachel.”
“Absolutely not, I promise,” said Caroline, and she saw Georgiana smile with relief.
* * *
Later, having retired to her room, Caroline confided in her diary:
It is beyond belief that Georgiana intends to prod her daughter into a marriage with a gentleman some fifteen years her senior, of whom she knows very little save that he is Anna Bingley’s brother and is said to be wealthy.
That he has lived in the antipodean colonies for some twenty years and may well wish to return there appears not to concern her at all. Nor does she seem to want to discover how he made his money. It is well known that some people who went to the more distant colonies became rich as a consequence of their involvement in some questionable activities. I do not believe this of Mr Faulkner, but I should have thought that Georgiana, if she wishes to consider him as a suitor for her daughter, would be concerned about such matters, especially if she is to accompany him to the other side of the world. If it were my Rachel, I would not be at all sanguine about it. But then, it could never be Rachel, for she will not marry anyone unless she is in love with him, nor would I wish her to do so.
I am troubled too that Georgiana has not consulted either Lizzie or Mr Darcy on this subject. It shows a desire to conceal her intentions from them, which is quite unlike her usual behaviour. Poor Georgiana, poor Virginia, I would not exchange places with them for all the tea in China!
She drew a line under her entry and almost put her diary away, then opening it up again, added a postscript at the bottom of the page:
Poor Daniel Faulkner, I cannot help wondering what he might think, or indeed his sister Anna Bingley, if they knew Georgiana’s plans for him. He certainly did not appear to me to be a docile or compliant sort of man; rather he seemed to be the type of person who would very much wish to make up his own mind on such matters, much like my Fitzy was at that age.
* * *
That evening, bored and alone because Virginia, claiming to be exhausted and sore, had retired to bed and Rachel was ensconced in a chair by the fire, deep in the latest novel, Caroline set off to walk along the Matlock road with only the late colonel’s dog Dasher for company.
It was a pretty, early Autumn evening, with a cool breeze blowing and a red sky presaging, at least for shepherds, a delightful day to follow.
There being still plenty of light in the sky, Caroline decided to walk as far as the crossroads, at which point she would turn around and return home. It had been a regular walk of the colonel’s; he would take both dogs, or sometimes just one of his dogs and one of the children with him, when they were young enough to be persuaded.
Sometimes, when Caroline could go with him, they would walk as far as the turn-off to the peaks, from where they could see the towering head of High Tor, against the ever-changing vista of moorland and clouds. It had been their favourite walk, and they had never tired of it.
Today, Caroline was not sure she wanted to go that far; her mood was not sufficiently resilient, and she did not feel confident enough to go alone. She was but halfway to the crossroads when she saw in the distance a tall man approaching, walking briskly on the other side of the road. He carried a short stick, which he swung casually as he walked. The colonel used to carry a short stick, a practice persisting from his days in the army. Suddenly, her memories were too painful, and feeling she could walk no farther, Caroline decided to return home.
But Dasher was clearly not of the same mind. The dog that had trotted along beside her appeared to sniff something interesting in the grass, and in a trice he was away after it. Caroline called out his name, urging him to come back, but the determined hound had raced after its quarry, leaving her standing alone by the side of the road.
She tried in vain to whistle, as the colonel used to do to get the dogs to follow him, but she knew she could not. He had always teased her about it, she remembered, and tears filled her eyes as she stood on the edge of a steep bank, down which she dared not venture. At the bottom was Dasher, standing defiantly, tail in the air, nose to the ground.
Caroline was frantic. “Oh Dasher, you wretched dog… come back here at once!” she called to him, but Dasher appeared not to pay any attention to her at all.
By this time the man Caroline had seen walking towards her had in fact reached her, although she, being so fixed upon the antics of the dog, had not as yet noticed him. He had crossed the road and stood almost at her side. When he spoke, addressing her, she jumped and he apologised at once.
It was Daniel Faulkner.
“I am sorry I startled you, Mrs Fitzwilliam. I saw you and noticed you were in some distress. I was afraid that someone had fallen down the bank. I did not realise it was a dog down there; have no fear, he is quite safe, and they are very surefooted and will not go too far.”
“He chased something down, it might have been a rabbit… My husband would whistle to them, and they’d return to him at once… I am afraid I cannot whistle, and he will not come when I call,” she said forlornly.
He smiled and said, “Do not distress yourself; I can whistle, and I am sure when he can no longer follow the scent of his quarry, he will come back quite meekly.”
Going to the edge of the bank, he whistled and called to the dog, who by now had reached a dead end in a thicket of hawthorn, its Autumn foliage glowing red in the evening light. The rabbit or hare had long gone, and having given up the chase, Dasher sat meekly down and let Daniel Faulkner approach, pick him up, and carry him to where his mistress waited.
“There you are; he’s none the worse for his little escapade. They are best kept on a lead, unless you are able to chase them,” he advised, and she thanked him from the bottom of her heart.
“I know that now. Thank you very much, Mr Faulkner. I really do not know how I should have persuaded him to return. Rachel would never have forgiven me if I had lost him.”
He reassured her that the dog would have come home on its own after tiring of the chase, but admitted that he understood her anxiety and was glad he could be of assistance.
“You appear to know a good deal about dogs,” she said. “Do you have many on your property back in Victoria?”
Daniel Faulkner shook his head and laughed. “No, I don’t, but I know several sheep farmers who do. But they are mostly working dogs, specially bred and trained to help with the sheep.”
This statement led to a conversation about sheep farming and dogs, and life in Victoria, and was followed by an invitation from Caroline.
“I am sorry; Dasher and I have probably delayed your journey and upset your plans, but if you can spare the time, I should be very happy if you would take tea with us,” she said and was surprised when he smiled and said, “Dasher and you have not upset my plans at all, just delayed them a little perhaps, because I have to confess, I was coming to visit you.”
Caroline was delighted. “You were?”
“Yes, you see I was in a bookshop this morning and found this excellent book on the game of cricket, which I thought Miss Rachel might enjoy.”
This time, Caroline interrupted to say, “Rachel did say that she had seen you and your sister Mrs Bingley at the bookshop this morning.”
“Yes indeed, she was at the counter beside me, but when I turned around, she had already left the shop. I did look for her outside, but she was gone, which is why I thought I would call this evening with the book.”
He produced a small package wrapped in brown paper, and Caroline had to say that she thought Rachel would appreciate it very much. She hoped with all her heart that it was not one which was already in the overflowing shelves of her husband’s book room. If it was, she prayed that her daughter would be sufficiently tactful and not let Daniel know.
As they walked, he sensed she was tiring and gave her his arm, while at his firm command, Dasher trotted obediently along at their side.
They reached the house while it was still light, and Rachel, who had noticed her mother’s absence and had been watching out for her, came rushing out to them. Seeing her mother leaning on Mr Faulkner’s arm, she asked anxiously, “Mama, what happened? Are you all right? Mr Faulkner, where did you find Mama?’
He reassured her immediately. “Your mama is quite well, Miss Rachel, just a little tired, I think. She had a little adventure with Dasher. I happened to come along and was happy to help.”
Having asked for tea to be served in the parlour, Caroline excused herself and went upstairs to change out of her walking clothes and shoes. When she came downstairs, Rachel and Mr Faulkner were sitting in the parlour before a lively fire, and the tea tray with cake and muffins had been placed upon the low table in front of them. Mr Faulkner was clearly enjoying one while Rachel was turning over the pages of the book.
Caroline, afraid Rachel might say something unfortunate, remarked quickly that it was very kind of Mr Faulkner to have thought of her when he saw the book on cricket, hoping very hard that Rachel would take the hint. Which, thankfully, she did, speaking enthusiastically of having to read it before the next season and learn all those excellent facts, which she was sure she should know, but didn’t.
“Good girl,” thought Caroline and smiled as she poured out tea for them.
“Where’s Virginia?” she asked, not having seen her upstairs.
Rachel looked contrite. “Oh Mama, I’m sorry, I forgot; while you were out with Dasher, a carriage from Pemberley arrived with a message for her from Mrs Grantley, and Virginia insisted on going. She was rather upset, but said she would definitely be back tomorrow.”
“Did her maid go too?” asked Caroline.
“Oh yes,” said Rachel, “Virginia says she would be lost without her.”
“Do the young ladies in Victoria have maids, Mr Faulkner?” Caroline asked casually, but in reality being quite keen to know.
Daniel Faulkner laughed. “Some do, those who are able to afford to bring them out from England and others who may be fortunate enough to find a young person who can be trained to do the work,” he explained, adding that there were not many places where you could find a well-trained parlour maid or a lady’s maid in the colonies.
Caroline wondered what Georgiana would say to that. Perhaps she hoped that Virginia, if she married Mr Faulkner, would take an entire household staff with her to Victoria.
Looking across at Daniel Faulkner and noting his handsome if rather weathered features and hearing the pleasing tones of his voice, she thought how well Colonel Fitzwilliam would have liked him, and again she had to fight the tears that threatened to fill her eyes.
Seeing that it was almost dark, Mr Faulkner rose to leave, but not before he had been invited back to dine with them later in the week, when it had already been arranged that his sister Anna and her husband, Jonathan Bingley, would be joining them too. Mr Faulkner accepted with alacrity and, not long afterwards, bade them good night.
Caroline noticed that Rachel was smiling and said, “He is indeed a most pleasing gentleman, is he not?”
“Indeed he is,” Rachel replied, “which is why I had not the heart to tell him that Papa had a first edition of this book, which I have read several times over. It’s a very famous book on the game.”
“Oh dear,” said Caroline, “poor Mr Faulkner, he was so proud of having found it and he walked all this way with it, too. I am glad that you said nothing about Papa’s copy. He would have been very disappointed.”
“Yes, and then we should not have had such a good conversation about cricket either. He knows a great deal about the game and has played quite a lot of cricket in Victoria,” said Rachel cheerfully.
“Did he say when he was returning to Victoria?” asked her mother.
“No, he did not, but he is going to London next week to meet a friend who has recently arrived from New South Wales. Mr Faulkner says he is what they call a grazier—a sort of big sheep farmer. His name is Mr Adam Fraser, and he has been invited by Richard and Cassy to spend a week at Camden Park.”
Chapter Seven
An invitation to a dinner party took Virginia and Rachel to Camden Park. Caroline had asked to be excused, recalling that the last time they had dined with Richard and Cassy, Colonel Fitzwilliam had been at her side, and pleading that she wanted a little more time to grow accustomed to the fact that henceforth, on such occasions, she would be alone.
Cassandra, sensitive and wholly sympathetic to her sister-in-law’s grief, offered to send a carriage to convey the young ladies to Camden Park and suggested that they stay overnight, to avoid returning home at a late hour.
“I promise they will be quite safe with me,” she said, causing Caroline to protest that she had had no doubts at all on that score.
“Besides,” added Cassy, “my aunt Georgiana will be joining us, so you need have no concerns for Virginia; she will be doubly secure. Sadly, Mama has not been feeling well, so she and Papa will not be there, but I am hopeful that Julian and Jessica will. I shall miss you, Caroline; Daniel Faulkner will be back from London with his friend Adam Fraser, and I desperately need a few people who can converse intelligently with two gentlemen from Australia. I know so little about the place, I shall feel very inadequate, and you know how Richard and Julian talk shop all the time.”
Caroline smiled. Cassy was always the anxious hostess, yet her dinner parties were invariably successful.
“You need have no concerns about Mr Faulkner, surely; he is a very amiable sort of person and is easily entertained; perhaps his friend will turn out to be of a similar disposition, in which case you will have nothing to worry about,” she said, and Cassy looked askance.
“What on earth does a rich sheep farmer talk about, other than sheep and money? And who shall I seat next to him at dinner?” she asked in a plaintive voice.
“Try Virginia,” Caroline suggested. “She professes an interest in exotic places. I am sure Australia, with its strange animals and beautiful birds, will divert her sufficiently to sustain a conversation through the meal.”
Cassy looked pleased with this intelligence. “Thank you, I shall. That may solve one of my problems. As for Daniel, I suppose…”
“Oh, Rachel will talk cricket with him all night, if you let her,” said Caroline, and Cassy looked delighted.
“Will she? Oh well, that is a pleasant surprise. Thank you, Caroline, I am so very glad I came over today, and while I am sorry you will not join us, I do understand,” she said as she rose to leave.
They embraced, and Cassy, seeing the tears in Caroline’s eyes, put her arms around her, and the t
wo women clung together for a while, for comfort.
Cassandra knew how deeply Caroline was grieving for the husband she had loved so well and recently lost.
* * *
It was not from Rachel or Virginia that Caroline learned about Cassandra’s successful dinner party, but from her niece Jessica, whom she met in church on Sunday.
The young ladies were still at Camden Park, sleeping off the effects of what Jessica described as “a really marvellous party, like I have rarely attended before. Everyone seemed to have such fun,” when Caroline, eyebrows raised, asked, “How good was this party, Jessica, and what made it such fun?”
“I would have to say that it was primarily the presence of the two gentlemen from Australia, Daniel Faulkner and his friend Mr Fraser,” Jessica replied and continued to explain, “They brought so much freshness and energy to the evening; there was a lot of interesting talk around the dinner table about fascinating things happening on the other side of the world, not just dreary business and local politics. Julian and Richard had no opportunity to talk about work or the hospital, and afterwards, they devised all manner of amusing word games, and everyone had to take part; no one was allowed to sink into the sofa and sulk or fall asleep, not even Virginia!”
Caroline was more than surprised; she was astounded. “Jessica, you are not going to tell me that Miss Grantley was persuaded to take part in some trivial after-dinner entertainment?” she asked.
“She certainly was and did so with gusto. Even her mother was astonished by her enthusiasm. I have to say that much of the credit must go to Mr Fraser, who, though he was meeting most of the guests for the very first time, was quite undaunted and insisted on getting everybody to participate. It was a most creditable performance.”
“And what sort of person is this Mr Adam Fraser?” asked Caroline, genuinely curious.
Legacy of Pemberley (The Pemberley Chronicles; Pride and Prejudice Sequel Series) Page 20
