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

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  “May I tell Mama?” she asked softly, and he replied, “Of course, but I think we should wait until I ask your papa’s permission. I shall ask Marguerite to help me write a letter to him tonight.”

  “May I tell Lizzie then, please?” she pleaded. “I cannot hold it all inside; I must tell someone, else I shall explode with happiness.”

  He laughed then and said, “We cannot have that, my darling! Of course you want to tell your sister; will she approve, do you think?”

  Laura Ann eyes suddenly filled with tears, as she declared, “I know she will, and I know she wants me to be as happy as she is.”

  At this he looked quite serious and said softly, “And I promise you will.”

  As he kissed her again, she closed her eyes and thought, “It is just as Lizzie said, I know it’s right, and Lizzie will be pleased when I tell her there were heaps of fluffy white clouds floating like birds overhead.”

  * * *

  Meanwhile, Caroline had risen and prepared to leave; her vehicle waited at the entrance and Cassy accompanied her to the door.

  It was one of those still, late Autumn evenings when it seems a hush has fallen upon the earth as though it is waiting for something special to happen. The sun had slipped below the mountains, leaving a deep rose-gold glow in the sky, making a spectacular backdrop for the park and woods of this beautiful estate.

  “Of all this, Cassy is mistress,” thought Caroline, “yet her heart must surely be riven with sorrow for her child.” The irony was excruciatingly painful, especially for one who knew both Cassy and Richard intimately, as she did.

  They stood together awhile, and Caroline was about to step out into the porch when two persons appeared at the far end of the avenue, walking arm in arm. Laura Ann and Tom O’Connor walked slowly towards them through the grounds of Camden Park, talking together, oblivious of anyone else. They stopped in the shadow of one of the great old oaks that graced the park and kissed, first fleetingly, tenderly, like butterflies on the wing, then more ardently, reluctant to break apart.

  Caroline and Cassy looked at one another and stepped back indoors, unwilling to spy, however unwittingly, on their love, and though neither spoke, there were tears in their eyes.

  Presently, the pair emerged from the trees and returned to the gravel walk. As they neared the house, Tom caught sight of the vehicle and drew Laura Ann’s attention to it. Recognising Caroline’s carriage, Laura ran the rest of the way, the ribbons of her hat flying, her face alight with pleasure. As she reached the steps, her mother and Caroline came out and heard her calling out to them breathlessly, “Mama, Aunt Caroline, have you heard? Mr Barwick is not going to build any more Roman villas anywhere in the district. The council will not permit it, and the land he has already purchased is to be resold. Tom says all the news will be in the Review tomorrow—he wrote it himself!” Caroline did not have the heart to tell her that she did know already; Cassy and she both pretended they had heard it for the first time and expressed immense satisfaction at the news.

  By the time Tom O’Connor had reached the steps, Laura was excitedly telling her mother and Caroline the story as it would be reported in the Review. “Mr Tate asked Tom to write the story—is it not wonderful? And it’s mainly down to your clever scheme to outwit Mr Barwick! Aunt Caroline, thank you,” she said and impulsively embraced her as they stood there on the steps of Camden House.

  Turning to her mother, she added, “When Papa returns from London, we must tell him all about it; he will be pleased that Mr Tate has said that Tom is to write a regular column for the Review every week and he will be paid extra for the work. Isn’t that wonderful, Mama?”

  There was no mistaking either the sheer exhilaration and delight reflected in her face or the warmth of the affection with which Tom O’Connor regarded her, quite unable to conceal his feelings. Cassandra congratulated him and invited him in to take tea with them as Caroline embraced her young niece and bade them all goodbye.

  As she drove away, she turned and saw the three figures pass through the entrance and into the house together, and despite the sadness of what Cassy had revealed, she resisted the temptation to be melancholy.

  Caroline, who was no stranger to the heights of happiness as well as the abyss of misery, felt deeply for her brother’s family. Yet, her heart was filled with a deep sense of joy at seeing the love that clearly absorbed both Laura Ann and Tom. The future, she thought, was not in their hands, but of Laura Ann’s present happiness she had no doubt at all.

  End of Part Three

  An Epilogue…

  As the year drew to a close, those members of the Pemberley families who remained in Derbyshire were acutely aware that this Christmas would be like no other. Mr and Mrs Darcy were not in residence at Pemberley; together with the Bingleys, they were wintering in the south of Italy, a journey undertaken chiefly on account of the indisposition of Mr Bingley and in the hope that both Mr and Mrs Darcy might benefit from the opportunity it afforded for rest and relaxation.

  Letters received through the Autumn had assured their families that it had been a prudent decision. Mr Bingley’s health had improved; he was looking and feeling very much better, and so, it seemed, was Mr Darcy. Rest and recreation in the salubrious climate of southern Europe had certainly brought their reward. Consequently, both Jane and Elizabeth claimed they were happier and more content as well. But they missed their families and friends, and begged them to write with all the news, to help allay their longing for home.

  In the weeks and months that followed, the Darcys and Bingleys, enjoying the warm hospitality and mild Winter that their villa on the Mediterranean offered, received in response many letters, of which a few should suffice to draw together the threads of this narrative. Cassandra, Darcy, and Caroline were their chief correspondents, but letters had arrived from many other members of the family, too.

  Two letters, one from Jessica and the other from Kate, arrived one sunny morning, bringing both good and bad news, which Elizabeth read out to the others around the breakfast table.

  Jessica, having first given a description of her little daughter Marianne’s progress for the benefit of her doting grandparents, proceeded to write:

  I know you will be happy to hear that we have had some success with regard to the Irish children from the village who are, at long last, to be permitted to attend school. You will recall that my brother Jude has spent many months trying to persuade the parish priest at Matlock to let them in, but because they are of the Roman Catholic faith and also because they were unable to pay anything towards their education, he would not.

  Now Jude and Julian have spoken with Frank Grantley, and, I must add, with the very persuasive efforts of dear Amy, it has been agreed that the Irish children will be permitted to attend the Kympton parish school from next Spring. Julian has offered to assist with any additional expense that the school may incur. I need not tell you how happy Jude is; he feels it is his duty to carry on the work of our dear mother and father, helping these unfortunate people, who, having fled the famine in their own land, have found so little comfort in England.

  Julian and I have given Jude our word that we will support his efforts, for he does not have much money to spare, to ensure that the children, at least, will be given some chance of a better life.

  I know Mama will have approved, and I hope you and Mr Darcy will also be pleased.

  As Elizabeth read, Mr Darcy had listened keenly. When she concluded that part of the letter, he said, “That is excellent news, Lizzie; I am glad that Frank has been persuaded to take the children in at Kympton. I suppose I could have asked him to, but it was much better that he came to the right decision himself. There is nothing worse than allowing a group of children, already damaged by gross poverty, to grow up without any learning or hope of improving their lot. Such exclusion from the community sows the seeds of dissension and conflict, and I am sure both Jude and Julian have understood that well. I confess I am quite proud of them,” he said, and Elizabeth,
noting the look of satisfaction on his face, smiled and agreed, “Indeed, so am I.”

  Turning over the page, she said, “Oh look, here’s a postscript,” and she read:

  I cannot close without adding this happy news, which we have just received.

  I am sure you will be delighted to know that my dear brother and his wife, Teresa, are expecting a child and look forward to a birth next Summer, by which time we all hope you will be back at Pemberley.

  Needless to say both Jane and Lizzie responded with expressions of delight that made both their husbands smile. However, Mr Bingley did warn that he would not be persuaded to rush back to England on account of a new baby unless the weather improved, and Mr Darcy remarked that he was quite sure young Jude Courtney and his wife would manage very well with the help of all their aunts and uncles, provoking an argument with their wives, which delayed the reading of Elizabeth’s next piece of correspondence, which came from Kate Gardiner.

  When she did get it open and ran her eye over the pages, Lizzie began first to smile, then to chuckle, and finally to laugh out loud as she put the letter down on the breakfast table and proceeded to take off her glasses.

  Jane, eager to know what it was that had so diverted her sister, picked up the letter and began to read.

  After the first two lines of familial greetings, Kate launched into a vivid description of the discomfiture of the family of Robert and Rose Gardiner.

  The tale concerned their daughter Miranda, who had but recently married a certain Mr Croker. Kate wrote:

  It would seem that Miranda and Mr Croker, having spent their honeymoon in London and Paris, seem too enamoured of the high life in these cities to want to return to Derbyshire. They have taken an expensive apartment in a fashionable part of London and are enjoying themselves, largely at the expense of Mr and Mrs Robert Gardiner, to whom Miranda has already applied for an increase in her allowance and for assistance with paying her bills.

  Miranda also receives, we understand, a regular income from the estate of her late grandfather, which must greatly annoy her brothers, who have not been so lucky. It would seem her mama is very distressed at not having her favourite child close at hand and together with Lady Fitzwilliam complains bitterly of their misfortune to anyone who visits and cares to listen.

  Darcy met one of the brothers at his club in Derby and was informed that everyone in the family, except his mother and grandmother, was heartily sick of Miranda and her Mr Croker.

  At this point, Jane stopped reading and said in a voice that clearly reflected her feelings, “Oh dear, is that not a great shame, Lizzie? Robert and Rose must be dreadfully disappointed.”

  Elizabeth, who had by now recovered her composure sufficiently to take up the letter again, responded, “My dear Jane, it can only be disappointing to one who had high expectations of this marriage. None of us did; it was quite clearly an ill-considered and unwise match, and for my part, it has completely fulfilled my expectations.”

  Jane refused to be cynical. “Oh Lizzie, that is not true, surely?”

  “It certainly is, and unless I am very much mistaken, I believe Robert could not have expected much better himself. Croker was clearly a fortune hunter, who saw an opportunity to do well for himself by marrying Miranda and getting his hands on some of her grandparents’ money,” said Elizabeth.

  “Well, if that was his intention, he is bound to be disappointed himself,” said Mr Darcy quietly as he peeled an orange and proceeded to take its segments apart. The others looked at him, curious to discover what he meant. Miranda’s grandfather James Fitzwilliam was Darcy’s cousin. “Miranda’s grandfather may have left her a generous allowance, but I am aware that he has ensured that the estate is very well protected from the kind of stupidity that may afflict his sons or anyone else who may think to raid the coffers. James did not trust either his sons or Rose to administer the estate; he has put in place a trust arrangement that compels them to live within their means or go out and earn more money. So I doubt that Mr and Mrs Croker will be able to finance their extravagant lifestyle by applying to the family for very much longer.”

  Elizabeth could not help laughing, but she also turned accusingly to her husband and said, “Why did you not tell us of this before?”

  Mr Darcy smiled, making it plain that he was enjoying this. “It did not seem to matter until now. After all, we have only just heard of the Crokers’ demands upon Robert and Rose. Besides, James swore me to secrecy; he knew if either his wife or his daughter discovered the truth, they would have pestered him to change his will.”

  “Oh dear, poor Miranda and Mr Croker; how very dismayed they are going to be,” said Lizzie, not bothering to hide her glee.

  “They will certainly be both dismayed and poor, if they continue as they have done,” said her husband, still smiling, “and I cannot say that I will be at all surprised at the consequences.”

  * * *

  Some days later, returning from their morning walk, Jane and Lizzie found more letters awaiting them. Jane’s were from her daughter Emma and her son Jonathan, and she retired to read them in the privacy of her room.

  Emma’s was full of family news and, apart from conveying their general well-being and happiness, contained nothing that was of significance to anyone other than her parents.

  When she opened Jonathan’s, however, Jane was surprised to read that he had met with Robert Gardiner, while on a visit to London. He wrote:

  Coming away from Whitehall, where I had met with Colin Elliott, I was walking across the park when I happened to bump into Robert Gardiner, and I must confess, Mama, if he had not stopped and greeted me, I should not have known him, he was so changed from when we last met.

  But he was clearly keen to continue the conversation, and not wishing to stand out in the cold, I invited him to lunch with me at my club. There, I was even more astonished to discover that Mr Gardiner was seriously depressed.

  Unsolicited and without any prompting from me, he poured out a tale that left me quite miserable having heard it. It would seem his daughter Miranda, whose elopement and marriage to a certain Mr Croker caused something of a stir, is determined to live in London, with occasional forays to Paris. Not only is her husband unwilling to support this lavish lifestyle, Robert Gardiner claims he is incapable of doing so, since his pretence of affluence has proved to be just that, a sham. Sadly, Mr Gardiner, who clearly misses his daughter terribly, travelled to London to see her, only to find himself embroiled in a contretemps between Miranda and her husband on the question of their finances.

  While there was little I could do for him, he clearly needed to unburden himself, and it seemed to alleviate his gloomy mood somewhat.

  I have not spoken of this to anyone but my wife, but, recalling some previous history involving the Gardiners, I did think you and Aunt Lizzie would appreciate the information.

  Jane, having read the letter through, took it immediately to her sister, who was enjoying hers from Cassy, with news of young Lizzie Carr’s expectation of another child and their planned visit to the United States.

  I know I ought be pleased for her because Lizzie has always wanted to travel overseas, but, Mama, I shall miss her and the babies so much; it is selfish of me, I am sure, but I cannot help it, wrote Cassy, and Elizabeth knew exactly how she must feel. Mother and daughter were especially close, and Lizzie resolved to write very soon to offer some comfort.

  When Jane entered her room, Jonathan’s letter in hand, the sisters exchanged letters, and as Lizzie read Jonathan’s account, she almost found it in her heart to feel some sympathy for their cousin Robert Gardiner, but aware of his past callous conduct towards Emily and Jude, Lizzie hardened her heart and said, “Well, Jane, I think it must be quite clear, at least to Robert, that inordinate pride almost always precedes desolation. It is a hard lesson, but one both he and Rose needed to learn.”

  Jane, tenderhearted and forgiving, was less censorious.

  “But, Lizzie,” she said, “do you not sup
pose that Robert will find some way to help Miranda? It does appear that she is in dire distress, and I am sure he loves her dearly and would wish to help her.”

  “I do not doubt it, Jane,” her sister replied, “nor do I doubt her capacity to wheedle some funds out of her father or her grandmother. No, I cannot feel sorry for either of them. Robert is selfish and weak, and Miranda is thoroughly spoilt, as was her mother. They will use each other and Robert or anyone else who will believe them, without any compunction at all.”

  Jane sighed and continued reading Cassandra’s letter to her mother. “Well, at least Cassy sends us good news,” she said as they went downstairs together, and Lizzie agreed, recalling even as she did that there were matters even Jane did not know, which Cassy and Richard had bravely endured.

  * * *

  They had been several months in Italy, and it was almost Spring by the Mediterranean, when Mr Darcy received a letter from his sister.

  Lizzie had been to the shops with Jane and arrived in time to find her husband preparing to drive out to the post office in the town. In his hand he held a letter addressed to Georgiana, who had been spending Christmas with her elder daughter in Hampshire.

  Mr Darcy seemed anxious, and Elizabeth was concerned, but he reassured her. “I have had a letter from Georgiana, which required an immediate response; I am taking it to the post office myself to ensure that it gets away in time for the boat to England. You may read her letter if you wish, Lizzie; it is in the top drawer of my bureau,” he said as he entered the carriage and was driven away.

  Lizzie was puzzled; it seemed odd that Mr Darcy would need to send an urgent response to a letter from his sister. As Mr Bingley was dozing by the fire in the sitting room, Jane and Lizzie went directly upstairs and found Georgiana’s letter. It had been hastily written in a troubled hand, quite unlike Georgiana’s usual neat copperplate, and it was filled with her anxiety and concern about her daughter Virginia. Appealing to her brother, to whom she had always turned for advice, Georgiana wrote: